#and that you're using the name of his character

[karmacharmeleon18]

"Neil and Katelyn are going to be best friends!!" Neil couldn't care less for her and Katelyn would go run and hide behind Andrew if she was ever face to face with the real Neil 😭

I know it's mean but this is honestly why I almost never read Aftg or Andreil fanfictions anymore: people water down the characters so much I'm basically reading about their OCs

You're not writing about Neil and Andrew, you're writing about two characters you made up and just named Neil and Andrew 😭

And they're definitely pushing it with the Foxes too, portraying them as BestFriendsForever!! when in canon they can barely stand each other

They are devoted, loyal to each other, but do they like each other? Nope. One day, maybe.

(there was a time when half the fandom was convinced that Andreil and the Foxes would be best friends with the characters from the Raven Cycle???? The out-of-touch, privileged rich boys and the misogynistic pick me girl that sluthames her own cousin 24/7? Who would absolutely recoil in horror at anything that makes the Foxes Foxes?? Dan was a stripper. Aaron and Matt were drug addicts. The Foxes would be the irredeemable villains in the Raven Cycle. Best case scenario the Foxes would completely ignore this bunch of privileged kids. Worst case scenario, they would not make it out of Fox Tower alive. And the Foxes wouldn't care. Hell, not even Jeremy would become friends with them. Just because some characters are queer doesn't mean they will get along and be bffs. Queer people aren't a monolith, you can't stuff us all into the same rainbow colored box and call it a day)

I don't understand how they like Aftg so much when they clearly don't like the characters as they are??? 😭

I've always thought that between the two, Andrew is the more "normal" one

Andrew is aware of societal expectations and conventions, of normal boundaries between people. When he crosses them, it's on purpose, to set his own and protect himself

Neil crosses them because he doesn't even realize they exist

Their relationship works so well because Andrew is very good at making his own boundaries clear, and at helping Neil set up clear boundaries for himself - "I won't let you let me be" -, and Neil cares about him enough to notice and make an effort to always respect them

They are not a conventional couple. Because they are not conventional people.

For years people kept asking Nora: "when do they get married?", "when do they say I love You?", "how often do they hug? I bet Neil is so touch starved 🥺"

And Nora was always like "... they don't? They do none of that?? They don't care about a piece of paper, or words that none of them has ever formed an emotional connection to. Their I love Yous is in their actions, their commitment, the fact that they choose each other every day etc. etc. They're not the types to hug, and Neil is not touch starved??"

And the fandom was OUTRAGED

I'm pretty sure half of it claimed ownership of Andreil to "save them from Nora"

Because their own, watered down, sanitized version of Andreil did not coincide with the literal author's

(and it's the same problem with Kevin)

"Neil is not the sassy twink boyfriend of a monster" 🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾 LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK

I remember when Nora said that if the Moriyamas killed Neil, Andrew would spiral into utter depression and just live half a life, waiting for the day he dies

But if the Moriyamas killed Andrew? Neil would cut bridges with all the Foxes and make it his sole life purpose to seek revenge, he'd kill all the Moriyamas one by one, in the US and Japan

Neil is more of a monster than the so-called Monsters could ever be

So here's the thing. Neil? Does not like Katelyn. Actually, that's not even it. Neil does not, at all, care enough to even have an opinion about Katelyn. Swear to GOD Andrew could have straight up murdered Katelyn in front of Neil, and Neil would've been like "This is typical Andrew behavior. It really sucks for Katelyn that she pushed him to this point." Like?? The boy doesn't care. He cares about his foxes, he cares about his coach, he cares about his nurse, and he cares about his cats. He does not care about the vixens. He does not care about anyone else. He has been trained not to. Even the FOXES are on rocky ground. Aaron? Genuinely pushing it. If he didn't look exactly like Andrew, I'm sure Neil would push him off a cliff with his own bare hands. Neil is not the sassy twink boyfriend of a monster. Okay? Neil IS a monster. And it's a little weird that the entire fandom just up and forgets that sometimes. Neil and Andrew work so well together because they are both heartless bitches who found each other in a time of crisis and latched on to each other like stupid emotional leeches. I love these characters as much as anyone else, but they are ASSHOLES. And they have no fucking clue how to act in a normal ass society, and I think we should all stop pretending like they do.

[3smos]

warning: drabble. dom reader. sub character. gender neutral. slight pet play.

Yoo Joonghyuk is a dog. A feral one. He holds his own leash and his collar holds no name. He's a stray who tells himself he won't come back, only to return with his tail between his legs.

"Why're you back?" He glares at you, weakly, but he tries his best.

"Say it." You spat out, slapping his cock lightly. He jerks violently, yet his back arches into you, clinging onto you.

Aw. He likes you.

"Y-you're the only one who can make me...-" Joonhyuk sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he eyes roll into the back of his head, pleasure overwhelming his every sense. You yank at the roots of his hair, forcing his head back. "Hahhh- c-cum."

"I never let you finish, pup." You chide. There's no use in coming back if that's the case, which it is. Joonghyuk braces him when your slick covered hand pinches the tip.

He sucks in a sharp breath, his hands shooting out to grip onto your shoulders as his knees dig deeper into the mattress. "Fuck... mhhn- I always do, at the end of the day."

...

AHH IVE GOTTEN RUSTY!!

[cod-bin]

don’t tempt me.

fuckboy!simon x nerdy!reader

cw: mentions of sex, no actual smut, angst, fever, mean girls, lowkey mean!simon at the beginning, swearing, roommate!simon

wc: 1.6k

The walls were too thin.

That was the first thing you learned about living with Simon Riley. That, and the fact that he was the human equivalent of a red flag dipped in cologne and ego. A nightmare wrapped in gray sweatpants and a jawline you could bleed on.

And somehow, impossibly, you ended up sharing rent with him. College rent to be exact.

Simon was loud, smug, and gorgeous in the kind of way that didn’t feel fair. You hated how casually he carried himself, how the air shifted when he walked into a room — like gravity bent a little in his favor. You hated the girls he brought home even more.

You never learned their names. Just the sound of their heels on hardwood, their laughter that never reached their eyes, and the wet, rhythmic thud of headboard against drywall that made you curl tighter under your blanket and wish you could disappear.

Tonight was no different.

Except you were sick.

Bone-deep, fever-slick, throat-on-fire sick.

You’d spent the last two days buried in blankets, lungs rattling with every breath, body aching like you’d been hit by a car and then set on fire for good measure. Your room, small and dim and yours, had become a cocoon of cough drops, half-empty mugs of tea, and tissues stuffed in your hoodie sleeves like some pathetic cartoon character.

You hadn’t spoken to Simon in days. Not that you ever really spoke to him. Not like he wanted to talk to you.

Ever.

He was all sideways glances and muttered “move”s in the kitchen, barely civil even on his best days. You were background noise in his life — the nerdy roommate with oversized glasses and earbuds always in, like maybe music or audiobooks could shield you from being seen.

They didn’t.

Simon saw you.

He just didn’t look at you. Not like a person. Not like someone who mattered.

You were halfway through a coughing fit when you heard it — the familiar pattern of footsteps, giggling, and the telltale creak of the front door closing behind them.

Tonight’s girl had a sharp voice. Sharp everything, really.

The sex was loud.

You pressed your fist to your mouth and coughed harder, trying to keep it down, swallowing tears because your whole body was sore and tired and you just wanted quiet. Just a little peace.

And then—

Your door opened.

Just like that. No knock. No warning.

The girl stood in your doorway like she owned the place, one manicured hand on the frame, nose wrinkled in disgust. Her hair was perfect, curled into glossy waves, and her bra strap was still slipping off her shoulder.

You tried to sit up straighter, panic thudding under your skin.

“Are you kidding me?” she snapped, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been hacking like a dying dog for the past twenty minutes.”

Your mouth opened, but your voice didn’t come. Just a small, broken cough.

“Some of us are trying to have a good time,” she went on, stepping fully into your room like it wasn’t yours. “Like, is it really that hard to shut up for one night? Jesus.”

“I— I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, save it,” she rolled her eyes. “God, I’d kill myself if I had to live like this. What even is this? Your room smells like cough syrup and sadness.”

You flinched, eyes stinging. Your face burned, and not just from the fever.

And she wasn’t done.

“Does Simon seriously let you live here like this? What are you even— his weird little cousin or something? Gross.”

Him letting you live here, you thought. He hadn’t paid his share of rent in months. You’d be skipping meals so you didn’t have to go face-to-face with him and discuss the fact you're drowning.

You couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Not with the tightness in your chest, or the way her words kept cutting through your skin like glass.

And then—

“The fuck are you doing?”

Simon’s voice.

Low. Cold.

She turned, startled. “Babe—”

He didn’t look at her.

He was staring at you.

You, small and sick and folded into yourself in the corner of your bed.

Tears in your eyes. Mucus drying on your lip. A blanket wrapped around your shoulders like armor made of cotton and shame.

Simon blinked once. Twice. His face didn’t change, but something in the room shifted.

“You yelling at her?” he asked, voice too calm.

“She was coughing,” the girl whined. “It’s disgusting. I can’t even concentrate—”

“Out.”

She laughed. Thought he was joking.

He wasn’t.

“I said get the fuck out.”

“But—”

Simon looked at her then. Really looked. And whatever he let her see in his eyes — it worked.

She huffed, stormed out with a muttered, “You’ve got issues,” and slammed the door behind her.

Silence.

Then Simon stepped inside your room and shut your door, gently this time.

You couldn’t look at him.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, even though you weren’t.

You didn’t want his pity.

“Didn’t ask,” he said. But his voice was quieter now.

You tried to get up, suddenly desperate to be anywhere else. “I’ll just— I’ll clean the couch or something, I know I sound disgusting, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Sit down.”

You did. Too dizzy not to.

He crossed the room, grabbed the mug from your nightstand, and disappeared. The silence was off-putting. You blinked at the space he’d been standing in like you’d hallucinated him.

Then he came back. Refilled it. Sat on the edge of your bed.

Offered it to you without looking directly at you.

You stared at the steam curling from the mug. Then at his hand.

“…Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stayed there, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it had answers.

“Why did you kick her out?” you asked finally, voice small.

He shrugged. “Didn’t like the way she spoke to you.”

You stared. “You don’t even like me.”

Simon snorted. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let someone treat you like shit.”

You laughed, a bitter, rasping sound. “You treat me like shit.”

His jaw flexed. “I know.”

Silence again.

You sniffled. Tried to wipe your nose discreetly. Simon sighed, pulled the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand, and gently nudged your chin up. Wiped your nose for you without a word.

You wanted to die. You wanted to cry. You wanted him to do it again.

“Why are you being nice now?”

He sat back, rubbing a hand down his face. “Because you look like you’re about to pass out. And I’m not a complete dick.”

You blinked slowly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

That made him grin. A real one.

“Alright, nerd.”

You smiled. Tired. Sore. But it was real, too.

Simon leaned back against your headboard like he’d been invited, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You hungry?” he asked after a minute.

“No.”

“You should eat.”

“You cook?”

“No.” He smirked. “But I order like a fuckin’ pro.”

You laughed. Coughed. Groaned.

He looked at you. A little too long. A little too close.

“You shouldn’t be alone like this,” he said, almost to himself.

“You gonna nurse me back to health?” you teased.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. Then back to your eyes.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You flushed, looking away.

For the first time, you realized just how quiet the apartment was without his usual noise — without a girl’s laugh echoing off the walls, or music pounding through the floor.

It was just you.

And him.

And this strange, heavy calm that settled between you like something that didn’t want to leave.

You didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe too loud.

You were afraid it might break.

☆

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[misskingshit]

Lucky girl

summary: You got to kiss Sebastian Stan (on his bald era omg), damn, aren’t u a lucky one? xoxo

The red carpet at the premiere of The Thunderbolts is a literal sea of flashing lights, microphones, celebrities, and stunning gowns glittering under the evening sky. Your heels click softly against the rug as you step out of the black SUV, instantly greeted by the familiar screeches of your name and hundreds of shutter sounds echoing like applause.

You’re glowing—draped in deep emerald green satin that hugs your body perfectly, subtle sparkle dusting your shoulders. The press has already gone feral online since the trailer dropped, and now? Now they’re calling you “the lucky girl who gets to kiss Sebastian Stan in 4K.”

And they’re not wrong.

Because your character—Sage, the all-powerful, enchanting witch—is entangled in a slow-burning, electrically charged situationship with none other than Bucky Barnes. And yes, the chemistry? Absolutely criminal. But behind every smoldering stare and whispered line, behind every intense scene with trembling hands and close-up kisses... is Sebastian. Your best friend.

Your very hot, very flirty, very not-dating best friend.

You walk the carpet alone for now, Sebastian arriving separately as part of Marvel’s staggered PR plan. Still, his absence doesn’t stop the questions.

"Y/N! Over here! One quick question!" a blonde interviewer calls out. She’s holding a sleek mic with Entertainment Weekly branded on it. You pause, flashing your signature red carpet smile.

“Of course! Hi,” you chirp.

She smiles wide. “Okay, first off, you look like actual royalty tonight.”

You giggle. “Thank you! Sage would definitely approve.”

“Speaking of Sage,” the interviewer leans in slightly, her voice teasing, “how did it feel filming such... intimate scenes with Sebastian Stan? I mean, come on—you two were giving serious heat. And he's kind of the hottest man alive right now, no pressure.”

You blink. “Honestly, I thought the wigs would distract everyone.”

“They did not.”

You fake pout. “Shame. We had such nice wigs, plus Seb's bald now so...”

“Okay but for real,” she leans in conspiratorially, “what was your real reaction when you found out you had to do all those intense, steamy scenes with Sebastian Stan? Be honest.”

You raise a brow. “They gave me a heads-up, and I was like, ‘Okay, yeah. Acting. Professional. No big deal.’ And then I saw it was Sebastian... and I texted him immediately like, ‘Guess we’re gonna be making out a lot." you smiled .

She laughs. “And what did he say?”

You do your best impression of him, low and casual: “‘Can’t wait. Bring breath mints.’”

You're both laughing when Lewis Pullman appears at your side, handsome in his deep navy tux, his presence warm and familiar. You grin.

“Lewis!”

He swoops in like a rom-com lead, pressing a kiss to your cheek and slipping an arm around your waist. “You’re stealing the show, Y/N,” he says with a mock sigh, “and making the rest of us look like amateurs.”

The interviewer perks up. “Bob and Sage had some pretty intense scenes too! How was it working together?”

You and Lewis exchange a glance and burst into laughter.

“She slapped me five times,” he deadpans.

You gasp. “You deserved it! Bob kept betraying her! Also I was method acting,” you defend yourself.

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” he looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

You’re both laughing again, leaning into each other like two chaos twins. Lewis has always been easy to be around. A good friend. A great scene partner.

Then—

“Take your hands off my girl,” a familiar voice cuts through the noise behind you, playful but with a razor-edge undertone. I

You glance to your other side and there he is.

Sebastian Stan.

Sharp jaw, no hair, tailored black suit that fits like sin. He’s smirking, but there’s an unmistakable gleam in his blue eyes as he reaches down and gently pries Lewis’s hand from your waist.

Lewis lets out a dramatic gasp. “Oh no. I’ve crossed a line.”

Sebastian steps between you with exaggerated slowness, wrapping his arms around you from behind like he’s claiming you in front of every lens. You laugh as his chin finds its way to your shoulder.

Lewis lifts both hands. “I surrender to the Winter Soldier,” he jokes, retreating backward. “No hard feelings.”

“Love you, Lew!” you call after him, blowing a kiss.

Just as your fingers flick out toward the air, Sebastian catches your wrist mid-motion, tugging it down. “Hell no!” he yells, holding you tighter. “I’m still recovering from the forest kiss scene between you two. Let me have this.”

The interviewer, now fully invested in this dramatic live soap opera, raises an eyebrow. “So… you don’t like sharing, Sebastian?”

He frowns. “I’m an only child. Sharing was never my thing.” He press his lips together and raised a shoulder.

You elbow him gently. “You shared your cereal with me on set.”

“Yeah,” he says, dead serious, “because you were hangry and I feared for my life.”

You lean into him, giggling. Before your heart can fully explode, the interviewer recovers, eyes wide with delight.

“Okay, I have to ask: How did you two manage to have that much chemistry in such emotionally complicated scenes? Like—what was the secret? Because it felt real.”

You and Sebastian exchange a look, and for a moment, everything around you falls away—the cameras, the crowd, the lights. It’s just you and him. Your teasing fades, and something warmer, softer settles between you.

“We trust each other,” you say quietly.

Sebastian nods. “Yeah. We’ve been close for a long time, and we’re super comfortable together. That makes all the difference when you’re filming scenes that intense.”

You glance up at him, and he smiles like he means something more than what he's saying. Like maybe he’s not just talking about acting.

The interviewer grins. “Well, you’re a lucky girl. Not only did you get to kiss Sebastian Stan, but also Lewis Pullman!”

Sebastian's smile drops into a playful scowl. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbles, throwing his head back, still holding you close, “I’m gonna kill him.”

You snort with laughter, your head falling back against his shoulder. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Am I? Or am I just passionate about my craft?” he teases, arms tightening around you.

“Your craft?”

“Making sure no one else kisses you.”

You pretend to gasp. “But what about acting?”

“Oh, I’m method now too,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours. “And in my method, Sage ends up with Bucky. No question.”

You flash a mischievous smile. “You know this is being livestreamed, right?”

“Good,” Sebastian says, pulling you close again. “Let the world know: Bucky Barnes doesn’t share. And I don’t either.” his face turns serious to the camera.

The cameras are still clicking. The interviewer is still grinning. But it’s clear—you and Sebastian have created a moment. One that’s blurring the line between script and reality more and more every day.

And maybe, just maybe, the red carpet isn’t the only thing heating up tonight.

---

The afterparty is chaos.

The rooftop is packed with celebrities doing that very specific rich-and-unbothered laugh, cameras flashing under violet lights, drinks in every hand. Someone from Euphoria is dancing on a table. There are seven different conversations happening around you, but all you can focus on is the man at your side: Lewis.

You're tucked into a dimly lit corner lounge, both perched too close on a velvet couch. Your heels are long gone, drink half gone, and Lewis is leaning in just a little too much—like he’s daring you to do something about it.

You laugh at something he says—loud, exaggerated—and lay a hand on his thigh, partly for balance, partly because you know who’s watching from across the room.

Sebastian Stan.

He’s standing near the bar, nursing a whiskey and glaring over the rim of his glass like a man plotting a murder.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Lewis whispers, grinning like the devil.

You blink innocently. “Why? What’d you do?”

He glances at Sebastian and whispers, “That man’s been trying to set me on fire with his eyes for fifteen minutes.”

You snort, then lean into Lewis’s side. “Maybe he’s just mad you made me moan in that cabin scene.”

“Oh, you made the noise,” Lewis says, raising an eyebrow. “I just held your hips and prayed.”

You both laugh, and Lewis tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s soft. Gentle. A move straight out of the rom-com handbook.

You pretend not to notice that Sebastian is now walking directly toward you, murder in his eyes and jaw clenched so hard you swear his molars are screaming for help.

Lewis notices. “He’s coming,” he says under his breath.

You grin and throw your arm around Lewis’s shoulders.

“Y/N,” Sebastian says coolly as he arrives, eyes flicking to Lewis’s hand on your bare thigh. “Having fun?”

“Oh, loads,” you purr. “Lewis was just reminding me of that day we filmed in the lake, remember? When I had to sit in his lap soaked to the bone while he whispered in my ear?”

Sebastian’s eyes narrow. “Oh, I remember.”

Lewis smirks, wiggling his brows. “She kept slipping. Real slippery witch, this one.”

You let out a scandalized laugh and lightly slap his chest. “Don’t call me that.” Sebastian cuts in, reaching down and physically removing Lewis’s hand from your thigh.

“Okay,” he says with a tight smile. “Time for someone to go get another drink.”

Lewis raises both hands. “Hey, man, we’re just talking.” He stands, hands raised in surrender. “I’ll leave you two to your... unresolved tension, again.”

You dissolve into giggles, letting your arms loop around his neck. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re evil,” he growls. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Me?” you say, mock-offended. “I was just talking. Being friendly. Laughing.”

He leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You touched his thigh.”

You grin. “And?”

“I know that look on your face,” he mutters. “You were trying to kill me.”

You tilt your head. “Did it work?”

He groans under his breath. “You’re insane.”

“You’re possessive.”

“You love it.”

You hum. “Maybe I do.”

This was incredibly incredible. You two had never been so obvious about your flirting and your desire for each other. I mean, everyone could tell, but you were feigning insanity. The extra drinks really gave you the courage you both lacked to be able to confront each other about what you both wanted.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. His hands are still around your waist, but his grip tightens just slightly. His eyes drop to your mouth, then rise again.

“Say it,” he whispers.

You blink. “Say what?”

“That you wanted me jealous.”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

“That you like when I get territorial.”

“Maybe.”

“That you think about kissing me every time we film a scene and I touch your neck.”

Your breath catches. You’re definitely not grinning now. That hit somewhere deep.

“I—” you start.

But then, once again, the universe decides you don’t get to finish that sentence. A reporter—cheerful, bubbly, and so unaware of what she’s interrupting—appears next to you both.

“Hi! So sorry, can I grab you two for a few quick questions?”

Sebastian lets out a sigh that sounds suspiciously like a growl.

You nod sweetly. “Of course!”

The interviewer smiles, clearly giddy to have both of you in frame.

“So,” she begins. “You and Sebastian have some of the most talked-about chemistry in Marvel history. Like, it’s wild. How did you build that kind of… connection?”

Here we go again. Damn.

You blink slowly, trying not to laugh. Sebastian’s hand is still on your hip, fingers curled with purpose.

You clear your throat. “Well, you know… we’re just really close. Like, disgustingly close. We’ve known each other for years.”

The interviewer beams. “Right! Friends-to-lovers energy.”

Sebastian smirks. “More like friends with tension.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “Or friends who pretend not to want to climb each other like trees.”

The reporter gasps, delighted. “So how do you keep it professional."

You and Sebastian both start to talk at the same time. Then pause. Then laugh. You answer first. “Lots of deep breathing. And threatening to punch him if he looked at my boobs again.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Okay, first of all, your boobs were out. Second, the director told me to look.”

You turn back to the camera. “Anyway, it’s been a dream filming with these guys. Real gentlemen. So cuties and very talented lips.” you joked.

The reporter finally thanks them and leaves. Surprisingly for you, Sebastian also leaves. You understood perfectly well that he didn't like you mentioning...well...Bob, again.

You lower your voice. “I wasn’t really flirting with Lewis. You know that, right?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes flicker over your face, searching.

“I just…” you continue, quietly. “I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know where the line is anymore.”

He steps closer. “Then let’s cross it.”

Your heart stops.

He leans in again—close enough that his breath hits your cheek. “Let’s cross it and burn it down behind us.”

You can’t breathe. You can’t think.

“Sebastian…”

He dips lower. His mouth brushes your jaw.

“You want filthy?” he whispers. “You have no idea how filthy I could be if I didn’t have to pretend this was a game.”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s talk about that".

"Yeah, we’re going to talk about this, at my place...right now" He grins. Sharp. Dangerous.

“Lead the way.” you whispered.

---

The second the door to Sebastian’s apartment clicks shut behind you, the silence is almost deafening. No more cameras. No more lights. Just the low hum of the city beyond the windows and the sound of your heels clicking softly against his hardwood floor as you walk in ahead of him.

You hear the door lock. Then—

“You’re insane,” Sebastian says from behind you, voice low and still laced with the bite of jealousy that’s been simmering since the afterparty.

You turn slowly, one brow raised. “Why?"

He looks at you feral "that mini-dress, fuckying killing me"

“You’re the one who watched all night and didn’t do a thing about it,” you tease, legs crossing, your dress riding just a little higher. “I figured maybe you liked it.”

“Oh, I did.” He stops right in front of you. “Liked it so much I nearly walked across that party and threw you over my shoulder when he touched your thigh.”

You smile slowly. “You should’ve.”

There’s a beat of charged silence. Then he steps between your knees, crowding your space, his fingers trailing up your exposed thigh like he’s daring himself.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs, voice thick with want, “how close you were to starting something we wouldn’t be able to finish.”

Your breath catches as he leans in, his mouth barely brushing yours.

“You really think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me every time we had to film a kiss?” he continues. “Or how you made that noise in the lake scene—the one that wasn’t in the script?”

You tilt your head, your voice breathy but teasing. “We were acting.”

His mouth brushes your jaw, then your ear. “You weren’t acting. Neither was I.”

And that’s it. The thread snaps.

You pull him into a kiss—fast, hungry, weeks of tension exploding all at once. He groans into your mouth, one arm winding around your waist, the other gripping your thigh like he’s never letting go. You don’t know who’s guiding who anymore, but suddenly you’re flat on the couch and he’s over you, lips trailing down your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone in a way that makes you gasp.

“You’re evil,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the corner of your jaw. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” you manage between kisses. “And what am I doing now?”

“Trying to ruin me.” He sits back just enough to strip off his shirt, watching your eyes trail over his chest like you’re starving. “And it’s working.”

You laugh breathlessly, tugging your dress over your head and tossing it somewhere—anywhere. “You’re not exactly resisting.”

He looks down at you—half-naked, flushed, waiting—and groans, dragging a hand through his hair like he’s trying to keep it together.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

You pull him back down by his belt loops. “Then stop wasting time.”

He kisses you again, deeper now, rougher, and you swear the air between you crackles. His hands are everywhere—your waist, your ribs, cupping your jaw as he breathes you in like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

“You were killing me with Lewis,” he says hoarsely, pressing hot kisses down your neck. “Touching him, laughing like that, letting him call you ‘slippery.’”

You gasp a laugh. “Jealous?”

“More like homicidal.”

You hum. “Well, you’ve got me now. Do something about it.”

He growls, actually growls, and the next thing you know, your panties are gone, his pants are gone, and the only thing between you is one last shred of self-control—which neither of you has any interest in keeping.

“Tell me you want this,” he says suddenly, voice quiet but intense.

You stare up at him, legs wrapped around his hips, heart racing. “I’ve always wanted this.”

That’s all it takes.

When he finally sinks into you, you both go quiet—like the air’s been punched out of your lungs. His forehead drops to yours, his eyes locked on yours as he begins to move, slow and deep, like he’s trying to memorize every sound you make.

You lose track of time—of how many times he makes you shake, makes you beg, makes you laugh between moans when he says things like “You gonna flirt with Lewis now, sweetheart? Or should I remind you who made you scream tonight?”

And God, the way he holds your face when you come undone is almost worse than everything else. Because it’s soft. Real. Worshipful.

“You’re mine,” he whispers at the end, breath ragged. “You don’t get to do that shit with anyone else anymore.”

You’re too dazed to be smug. But you still whisper, “Possessive much?”

He kisses your temple. “You love it.”

You smile into his skin. “Maybe I do.”

He grins against your cheek, still wrapped around you, and murmurs, “I hope Lewis hears you screaming next time.”

You laugh. “You hope?”

He shrugs. “I might leave the window open.”

---

You wake up tangled in a mess of white sheets and warm skin, the sun sneaking through half-closed blinds. There’s a weight draped across your waist—an arm, heavy and possessive even in sleep—and the unmistakable press of a broad, bare chest at your back.

You try to move.

The arm tightens.

“No,” Sebastian grumbles into your hair, voice raspy and wrecked. “Mine.”

You snort softly, blinking at the sunlight. “You say that like you didn’t absolutely destroy me last night.”

“You’re still breathing. Barely.” He noses your neck lazily, then mutters, “Need to try harder next time.”

You hum, stretching a little under the sheets. “There’s going to be a next time?”

His head lifts just slightly, enough for you to feel the smirk against your skin. “Sweetheart, after what you did to me on that couch, you’re never getting rid of me.”

You laugh, turning to face him. His hair’s a mess, his stubble is rough, and he looks unfairly good for someone who kept you up half the night saying things you’re absolutely never repeating in public.

The phone on the nightstand buzzes. Once. Twice. Then three rapid pings in a row.

Sebastian groans again. “Don’t. Let it die. Don’t ruin this moment.”

You glance over, squinting at the screen. “It’s Lewis.”

Sebastian makes a strangled noise. “Block him.”

You grin. “He sent a selfie. He’s outside. With coffee.”

Sebastian shoots upright like he’s been electrocuted. “WHAT.”

You’re giggling now, absolutely no shame. “He says—and I quote—‘I heard the window sex. I brought peace offerings and noise-canceling earbuds.’”

Sebastian drops back onto the bed with a groan of despair. “I hate him. He’s banned. He’s not allowed near you. Or this apartment. Or air.”

You’re laughing too hard to respond at first. “You did say you hoped he heard.”

“I meant metaphorically! Not literally!”

Another ping. You look again.

“Okay, now he’s saying, ‘You’re welcome, Stan. My flirting finally got your dumbasses to bone. Took you long enough.’”

Sebastian sits up, grabs your phone, and types something furiously. Then pauses. Looks at you.

“Can I send him a picture of the hickeys?”

You grin. “Only if I can be in it.”

He turns to you, eyes flickering with that same heat from last night. “Say that again and we’re not making it to coffee.”

Your hands slide up his chest. “Not a problem. I like my breakfast hot and mouthy.”

His grin is filthy. “That so?”

Before you can answer, he’s kissing you again, dragging you back down into the pillows like he didn’t already spend all night wrecking you, like he’s still starving. You melt into it—laughing against his lips, loving how smug and possessive and still somehow your ridiculous best friend he is.

You break the kiss long enough to whisper, “So… this a thing now?”

He tilts his head, brushes his thumb along your jaw. “Was a thing the second you made that lake scene way too real.”

You smile. “And the possessive streak?”

He kisses your neck. “Only when Lewis is breathing near you.”

You smirk. “Guess we’ll have to invite him over more often.”

Sebastian pulls back, scandalized. “Woman.”

You laugh so hard you almost fall off the bed.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Undefeated Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359):

Please. I beg of you. Read all the propaganda I wrote, and then vote Minkowski. If you're still not convinced:

She's a first-generation Polish immigrant, and a huge part of her arc is about feeling like she had to hide her identity and prove herself to make it in the US. When she lets her accent slip out in episode 52, it's the sexiest thing to ever happen.

She has the entire rule book for her space mission memorized so she can better take care of her ship.

She talks to ghosts on multiple occasions.

She has a gay little dynamic with the 2024 sexiest podcast character, Isabel Lovelace.

She expertly navigates multiple hostage situations.

Along with musicals, she's ALSO really into Sylvia Plath.

She lives under a rock and does not know anything about pop culture, which is adorable.

She writes show tunes!

vote for the commander you fools, vote like the wind!!!!!!!!!

John Doe (Malevolent):

VOTE JOHN DOE EVERYONE!!!! LOOK AT HIM!!!!! MY BELOVED YELLOW GLOWING EYE CREATURE!!! HE CERTAINLY DESERVES YOUR VOTE !

PLEASEEEE VOTE FOR JOHN😭😭😭 he’s so GODDDD HES AN ELDRITCH GOD THAT JUST WANTS LOVE😭😭 (if you know me PLEASE VOTE FOR JOHN I KNOW YOU DONT KNOW HIM BUT PLEASEEEE HES PERFECTTTT!!! And also listen to Malevolent 🤩)

(vote John tho, he's such a baby, you wouldn't hurt a baby!)

i wasnt gonna say anything and just see how it turns out but PLEASEEEE VOTE FOR JOHN PLEASE MY POOKIE💔💔💔💔💔FAVOURITEST GUY EVER HIS VOICE IS SO NICE PLEASE PLEASE💔💔

Let’s not let this trans icon down guys. He didn’t fight to be who he decides for nothing. And that is the sexiest thing imaginable.

John was absolutely an eldritch nightmare BUT is literally getting better and learning empathy and consent which is very sexy

Hello my friends and random people in my phone. Please consider voting John Doe for Sexiest Podcast Character. He is barely beating Helen Distortion and eyes are so much cooler than spirals. John deserves one (1) nice thing and if that nice thing is being voted the Sexiest Podcast Character of 2024, who am I to deny that to him? Who are we to deny that to him? Use your voice, tumblr. Vote for John.

The one who’s changing and growing, powerful and terrifying but can be tender and good, capable of mind-fuckery but instead trying to be a better being and make up for thousands of years of terrible choices

John's entire identity is about defying the rules you were forced into at birth, and deciding you can be whoever you decide. And nothing is sexier than that.

Hello, we the good people at John's campaign headquarters, come to you with a very special message about our candidate and why he deserves your vote with a compilation of his best hits.

A vote for John is a vote for justice. And being your true self. And choosing your own name. And being really really cool.

John Propaganda video by @lunaescribe and @rotflea.

JOHNDOE2025 video by @curbledmiilk.

John Doe Acceptance speech by @malevolentcast.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Renée Minkowski (Wolf 359):

the most badass commander there is. she spent a week hunting a plant monster living on the air ducts of her station with a goddamn harpoon. she managed to keep her people alive and get them home. she managed to keep Eiffel alive for like five years and for that alone she deserves a fucking medal

She did not just spend one week hunting the plant monster, she spent TWO WEEKS hunting the plant monster. Later on, she used the very same harpoon to murder an evil capitalist WHILE SHE HAD A BULLET IN HER CHEST.

She's haunted by the memory of the first time she took a life, and what's sexier than a character with regrets?

She works out. Muscle women. Enough said.

She's devoted to protecting her crew above all else, and despite her self-doubt, she's REALLY damn good at it.

She's a theater kid! She loves musicals! She writes showtunes! Sondheim is her favorite composer!

She Russian-Roulettes a guy into not blowing up her ship, and does such a good job of it that he never even realizes there aren't any bullets in her gun.

She's been trapped in a time loop, possibly multiple times.

She's the best character in all of audio drama, I love her, she's beautiful, she's sexy, and she deserves every vote.

#minkowski my beloved. love of my life. other half of my heart. sexiest woman in podcast ever. i love her

#MINKOWSKI!!!!!! #i love her sooo much fun fact

#my girl! my favorite girl! she won! #let's keep this energy going everyone!

I don't really remember anything about Wolf 359 since I only listened to a few episodes so I'm throwing my lot in with whoever has the most compelling/funniest propaganda. I think this would be funny and I commit to nothing if not the bit

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

But. MINKOWSKI. Please read all that Minkowski propaganda I wrote and then consider voting for her. She's the love of my life and THE sexiest podcast woman, bar none.

MINKOWSKI

John Doe (Malevolent):

A fragment of the Eldritch Deity that has gained independence, attached to possibly the world's most pathetic man. Also have you heard his voice

JOHNNN, JOHN I BELIEVE IN YOU

Gonna need everyone to vote for John plz

Don't let John down, he needs a win, he's had a miserable time lately : (

his voice is jsut. really good

sorry but queer rumbling voice John Doe is too powerful to not vote for here. Also no one in canon will tell him this and he deserves to know.

ok but the way John Doe said labrynthine

If John wins I'll write him kissing Noel

Trans Icon

LISTEN TO HIS VOICE

Threatens to disembowl anyone who hurts the person he loves

Once tried to kill a priest for making goo goo eyes at his man

Was an evil warlord turned soft poetry lover

Can still throw hands when needed

Clever as fuck

Wants to see a movie SO BAD

Memorizes poems just for his wet cat -V protective of his wet cat partner

VOTE JOHN

Crew we can't let trans icon movie lover, most jealous husband in the universe John Doe lose...

If John wins I'll cosplay him again

Vote John!! he's everything. eldritch god, in a codependent relationship with a feral cat of a man, nice voice, he even likes poetry

I've actually nutted to John's voice before. /hj

like this isn't even his full power s2 voice but mannnnn he sounds so hungry and feral for Arthur all the time...

ASSEMBLING THE MALEVOLENT CROWD. POOKIES FOLLOW YOUR DUTY AND HELP THIS MISERABLE MAN OUT!!!!

do NOT let my glorious goat LOSE!!!!

JOHN JOHN JOHN JOHN JOHN J

Vote John Doe!!!

MOOTS PLEASE VOTE JOHN 💔💔💔💔

VITE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN

LETS GO JOHN DOE

malevolent fans RISE

JOHN LETS GOOOOOOOO

hey all my mutuals, do some work for your favorite yellow boy

Vote for John!! Joohn!!!!

IM SORRY BUT PLEASE VOTE JOHN HES AWESOME I PROMISE

VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN VOTE JOHN COME ON GUYS

Guys vote John Doe as sexiest podcast character please he deserves this ���

CMON FOLKS, JOHN DOE JOHN DOE JOHN DOE

JOHN SWEEP!

IM SORRY JOHN!!!! (I’m really not)

VOTE FOR JOHN!!!

PLEASE VOTE JOHN PLEASE

[heartthrobxhook]

"We never got to introductions, pretty hat man." Killian said with a grin and shrugged. "Names are just words and just because you know someone's name doesn't mean you know them. Its from their actions you learn a person's character." The pirate explained and reached into his jacket to grab a handkerchief to attempt to wipe off some of the blood from his face. Best to try and look half descent, he was sure a diner would turn them away if they looked like they would stir up trouble.

He looked back over at the other and took him in, ocean blue eyes narrowing at the challenge. "Take your actions right now. Wanting to help me get sobered up when you could've easily turned and left me alone. You're a survivor, not just for your self but to those who matter to you. You wear a smile on your face but your eyes are filled with such sadness. Loss maybe? Used and thrown aside? I can tell you've been through the trenches of depression with waves of sorrow beating you down. Instead of a good shag you crave to have someone to hold, to whisper that they love you and that everything will be alright." The pirate said with a smug grin, maybe he wasn't as drunk as he seemed.

"I think if I am so pretty on the eyes that you are captured, you will make a second time happen, Pirate," he admitted looking at him with a look of knowing. "If you are so sharp on wits, and you think you not impaired by the drink, tell me, do you even know my name?" He questioned, looking to him with a smirk. "You hit on men without even knowing who they are? Is that something you do sober too?"

"We will be in the sheets when you can tell me who I am...and what you might even know about me."

[innorality]

heeyy ehehehe idk if I've seen you write for OP in a bit BUUUT Can I see more Luffy or other characters misusing Conquerors Haki during sex 🥺

It lives in my mind rent free 🙏

cw // lots of dumbification, creaming and implied squirting

omg right now all I can think of is luffy and shanks using conquerors haki during sex and im drooolinnggg because these two are menaces when it comes to fucking you dumb :p

on one hand, there's luffy, the most experimental man you can ever meet. he's pounding deep into you, fucking you into the mattress and you're almost foaming at the mouth, eyes rolled back as you can feel his size changing from time to time (he cant help but use his df) and then suddenly, you feel it.

it's unusual, unnatural. you feel flickers of it at first, and with half the mind you have left, you think it's maybe the first sparks of your orgasm. but then, it washes over you.

not your orgasm—no, not at all.

it's the feeling of your will being overpowered by luffy's. his will to fuck you stupid. his will to make you scream his name and cream all over his stretching cock.

it's too much, way too much—you try to breath, to ground yourself, but every movement feels like a chore and every breath you take is simply laborious. you want to succumb—and you do—but you don't have to want it, you need to. because if you don't, you think your mind would actually break with the way luffy was intensifying the pressure with each passing second.

when it's over, you don't even realize you're cumming because every other sensation is mushed together into one, big puddle of pleasure that you happily bask into.

on the other hand, you have shanks, the asshole who'd do anything to fuck the brat out of you.

they were simple jokes, nothing to be taken seriously. but when you started making explicit jokes with his crew members, he knew he had to knock some sense into you one way or another.

so naturally, you ended up riding his dick while tears of pleasure glossed your eyes, but you still refused to give in to his punishment. you did not want to say sorry, you did not want to admit that it was a shitty thing to do in front of him.

"you really wanna be a brat, right now?" "w-when am I not, shanks?- shit..."

yeah, bad idea.

because it's without any warning that he forces you into submission with his will, his haki almost twisting you physically the way it's twisting your mind, wringing out every single ounce of rational thought from your brain. he used just enough to make sure all that was left of you was a cute little mush of obedience that would be good for him.

your senses twisted, eyes rolling back, ears ringing and nose filling with the scent of his sweat. "you wanna be good for me, now?" you hadn't even heard what he said but you instinctively screamed "y-yes! yes! yesyesyes- fuck, yes!". your train of thought had derailed from focusing on making things hard for him and being a good fucking girl for shanks.

your orgasm washed over you as soon as the pressure of the haki lifted, your mind finally getting a vision of clarity as it executed the first thing that came to it—to cum.

so you gushed down on him, collapsing on his chest while riding (barely) out your high. you were boneless and brainless... but hey, atleast you got a good fuck out of this mess, right?

[szariahwroteit]

Girls Need Love: A Kylian Mbappè x Original Character Erotic Series.

18+ Minors DNI

Chapter 26

“You’re heading back to Madrid tomorrow,” Giselle pouted, her hands slipping around Kylian’s waist as she gazed into his eyes, already anticipating his absence.

“Come with me,” Kylian smirked, his hands playfully squishing them and puckering her glossy lips.

“I have a shoot for Elle coming up, I’d love to but I can't, baby.”

Kylian's expression softened, the playful smirk fading into something more serious as he brushed a strand of hair behind Giselle's ear. “I understand, but I wish you could be there with me.”

Giselle's heart melted at his sincerity. “It’s just for a little while. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she said, her eyes hopeful as she leaned closer. “I promise I'll be back in Madrid with you soon.”

“Before the final match of my season?” Kylian inquired.

“Yes,” Giselle smiled softly, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. Her body melted against his as she felt his hands slip to her waist, holding her body against his.

Kylian's heart swelled with affection as Giselle's lips met his, the softness of her kiss igniting a fire within him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as his hands roamed her curves possessively. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice low and husky.

"Promise me, Giselle. Promise me you'll be there for the final match. I want you in the stands, cheering me on."

Giselle's eyes sparkled with excitement and love as she nodded, her hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck. "I promise, Kylian. I wouldn't miss it for the world. You know how much I love watching you play, how proud I am of you."

Kylian's hands slid down to cup her ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he pulled her flush against him. "And after the match, I want to celebrate with you. Alone. Just the two of us," he growled, his lips trailing hot kisses along her jaw and neck.

“Tell me what you're going to do to me,” Giselle smirked.

Kylian's hands gripped Giselle's hips firmly as he ground his already hardening length against her. "I'm going to worship every inch of your body," he growled, his voice low and thick with desire. "I'm going to take my time exploring every curve, every secret spot that makes you moan."

His hands slid under her shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her back before dipping lower to unclasp her bra with expert fingers. "I want to feel your naked body against mine, to taste every part of you until you're trembling with need."

Kylian's lips found the sensitive spot on her neck, sucking and nipping at the delicate skin as his hands cupped her breasts, kneading the soft flesh. "I'm going to tease you until you're begging for my cock, until you're so wet and ready for me that you can't think of anything else."

He pulled back to look into her eyes, his dark with lust. "And then, when you're desperate for me, I'm going to fuck you so hard and deep, filling you up until you're screaming my name.”

“I thought you preferred it when I call you, Daddy?” Giselle smirked.

“Behave, I have a meeting to attend,” Kylian warned, despite his words his hands continued to grip and explore her.

“You started it,” Giselle shot back playfully, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You can't just drop all that on me and expect me to behave.”

Kylian chuckled, the heat of desire still lingering between them as he tried to regain his composure. “I know, but if you keep this up, I might end up losing out on a few million,” he admitted, his voice low and sultry.

“Aren't I worth it?” Giselle asked, gazing up at him through her lashes.

“That is exactly why I need you to stop,” he said, chuckling softly, though his words lacked any real conviction. Kylian couldn't help but feel intoxicated by her presence, the way she effortlessly drew out his desires and pushed boundaries.

“Go and spend time with your sisters, after the meeting I will meet you guys at the arena for the Knicks game, and then I am taking you all to dinner.” Kylian continued.

“Or we could just stay hidden away in our suite?” Giselle asked, playfully wiggling her eyebrows at him.

Kylian let out a deep laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "As tempting as that sounds, I can't let you abandon your sisters."

Giselle pouted slightly, knowing full well the allure of their private time together. "But just think about how much fun we could have... all alone. No distractions, just us."

His expression softened again, wrestling with the delightful temptation she presented. "You're making it harder for me, you know that? I have to keep my priorities straight."

"But, I want to make you hard," she countered, stepping closer, brushing her body against his as she cupped his length through his jeans in her dainty hand.

Kylian's resolve wavered as he looked down into her captivating eyes. "Giselle, please,” he all but begged.

“Fine,” she huffed, her plump lips curling into a pout that made Kylian’s stomach flip.

“Come here,” he murmured, taking hold of her hand so he could pull her closer once more. His eyes darkened with desire as he bent his head to capture her lips in another searing kiss, their bodies melding together again.

Giselle melted against him, feeling the heat radiate from his body as his hands moved down her sides, igniting every nerve ending. Kylian’s lips moved skillfully against hers, teasing and exploring, igniting a fire deep within her.

The kiss deepened, Kylian's hands gripping her hips as he pressed her against the wall, a growl escaping his lips as he felt the soft curves of her body beneath his touch.

“I can’t help but want you,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and heavy.

“I’m falling in love with you,” Giselle whispered back, her body stiffening as she realized what she'd allowed to let slip from her mouth.

Kylian pulled back slightly, his eyes widening at her confession. In that brief moment, time seemed to stand still as they searched each other's gaze, the air thick with unspoken emotions.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice low, tinged with both surprise and something immensely deeper.

Giselle felt her heart race, a mixture of vulnerability and exhilaration coursing through her. “I am,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don't mean to spring this on, nor do I want you to feel obligated in any way, but it’s the truth. You’ve become so important to me.”

Kylian's expression softened, his surprise giving way to something warmer. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he said, his voice sincere.

Giselle felt a rush of relief wash over her, her heart fluttering at his words. “Really? You mean it?”

“We’ve had something special from the beginning, haven’t we?” Kylian said, his fingers lightly tracing the contours of her jawline. “Every moment together just confirms it for me."

Kylian's heart swelled with emotion as Giselle's confession hung in the air between them. He gazed into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity that lay within their depths. At that moment, he knew that his feelings for her were just as strong, if not stronger.

"I mean it, Giselle," he said softly, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek. "I've fallen for you too. You've captured my heart in a way I never thought possible."

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes, savoring the closeness and intimacy of the moment. "I want to be with you, to build together. You make me happier than I've ever been."

Giselle's heart raced at his words, tears of joy pricking at the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as if afraid he might disappear. "I want that too," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I want to be yours, completely."

“You already are,” Kylian murmured, his voice filled with warmth and affection. He pulled her even closer, wrapping his arms securely around her.

Giselle felt a sense of safety in his embrace, a feeling she had longed for. It was as though all the chaos of the world faded away, leaving just the two of them suspended in this beautiful moment.

“I don’t want to rush anything, but I want you to know that I’m committed to this,” he spoke softly. “What we have is real, and I want to explore it fully.”

Giselle nodded, her heart filled with hope. “I couldn’t agree more. I’m ready to see where this takes us.”

Kylian smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with genuine happiness. “Then let’s make a promise to be open and honest with each other, to share our thoughts and feelings as we navigate this together.”

“Deal,” she replied, her heart swelling at the thought of their journey ahead.

Without thinking, Kylian cupped her face in his hands, leaning down to kiss her again. The kiss was soft, filled with all the emotions they had just shared—love, excitement, and the promise of what was to come.

As their lips moved together, Giselle couldn’t help but wish for the time to speed up so they could be together again after Kylian’s meeting.

Being made to wait to be with the only person she wanted to share herself with felt like torture, and being made to shop with her older sisters felt more like a childlike punishment than a means of passing time as they proved and teased her in only the way older siblings could.

Their banter came from a place of love and familiarity, a place of genuine support and unwavering curiosity.

“Honestly, I imagined Kylian being a one-night stand when we met,” Giselle revealed to her sisters as she stood on a small podium in the center of the Manhattan boutique they shopped in as she inspected the outfit she was trying on.

“What changed? I mean, it's clear as day you guys are infatuated with one another.” Ayesha questioned, of her sisters she was the eldest and most reserved.

“Are we going to skip over the fact that Gi is out here having one-night stands?!” Tabitha asked in amusement, her eyes flicking back and forth between her sisters as they prepared to leave their hotel.

Giselle chuckled, adjusting her top with a playful smirk. “I didn’t plan for it to happen. He was just supposed to be a fun distraction at a time I was feeling low.”

“But you guys are practically glued at the hip now,” Ayesha pointed out, a knowing smile creeping onto her face.

“It’s so much more than just physical. There’s this connection, this chemistry that I can’t ignore. I told him I’m falling in love with him,” Giselle admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly at the confession.

“I fucking knew it!” Tabitha gasped excitedly. “We had this conversation at your event.”

“You did,” Giselle blushed. “I didn't plan on saying it to him, but I did and the moment felt right.”

“It happened today?” Ayesha asked curiously.

“Yes, he was leaving for a meeting and it kinda just slipped out,” Giselle replied, her heart racing at the memory. "I was so caught up in the moment, you know? The way he looked at me, the way he made me feel—it just came tumbling out."

Ayesha, the eldest, tilted her head, her expression intrigued. “But how do you feel about it? Falling in love can be a big step, especially after you thought it was just going to be a fling.”

Giselle took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "I know it sounds scary, but it feels right. I've never had someone understand me the way Kylian does. He's not just a distraction; he’s a significant part of my life."

The shopping trip continued with the women going from store to store collecting items and memories as they went.

By the time they were done, they barely had time to head to the hotel and drop off their bags before making their way over to Madison Square Garden in time for tip-off.

Making his way up to the private suite he'd rented for the evening as it reached halftime between the Knicks and Celtics, Kylian couldn't help himself as he took Giselle's hand, leading her to the back of the room for a little alone time.

“Kiss me,” he smirked, hooking a finger under Giselle’s chin as he eyed her plump lips.

Giselle's heart raced as Kylian's finger hooked under her chin, tilting her head to meet his intense gaze. She could feel the heat radiating off his athletic body, the scent of his cologne filling her senses. Without hesitation, she leaned in, pressing her soft lips against his in a passionate kiss. Her hands slid up his muscular chest, feeling the firmness beneath his top.

As they kissed, Giselle parted her lips, inviting Kylian's tongue to dance with hers. She moaned softly into his mouth, her body pressing closer to his. When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed with desire. "Mmm, you taste good," she purred, her eyes filled with lust.

“Behave, your sisters are here,” Kylian warned as he feverishly nipped at her bottom lip.

Giselle let out a playful giggle, her heart fluttering with excitement. "What if I don't want to behave?" she teased, her gaze locking onto his with a mix of mischief and longing. The thrill of sneaking away from the crowd only heightened the electric tension between them.

Kylian's smirk widened as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Then you will be dealt with accordingly when we're alone.”

Giselle's breath hitched at Kylian's whispered promise, her body trembling with anticipation. She knew exactly what he meant by "dealt with," and the thought sent a rush of heat between her legs. She bit her lip, trying to regain some composure, but it was useless. Kylian had her completely under his spell.

"Mmm, I can't wait," she breathed, her voice low and husky. She glanced over at her sisters, who were engrossed in the game, before turning back to Kylian with a wicked grin. "But for now, let's enjoy the moment."

Kylian nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he led her back to their seats. He draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. Giselle leaned into him, savoring the feeling of his strong arm wrapped around her.

The closeness of Giselle and Kylian’s bodies captured the attention of her older sisters, in the same way they had at her magazine event.

Although neither woman spoke their thoughts, they were both of a similar nature. They had both witnessed their sister in previous relationships, they'd voiced their opinions, given advice, and dried her tears, but there was something about Kylian that set off a different kind of alarm.

They were two people so obviously in love with one another, their chemistry palpable, and raw.

Despite the playful low murmurs chorused with giggles that came from them, there was a seriousness to their connection, an unwavering understanding between the two.

“You know, I assumed her absence was because she's seeing someone new, but I didn't think it was this deep,” Tabitha revealed, her voice low as she leaned into her sister.

“Do you think this is the one?” Ayesha whispered back with widened eyes and a smirk tugging on the corners of her lips.

Tabitha raised her eyebrow, glancing at Giselle and Kylian, who were now engaged in a private conversation, their heads leaned in close together. “This isn’t like her,” she said, tilting her head. “Giselle typically plays it safe, or at least she was after Jalen. It’s like she’s a different person with him.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Tabitha suggested a hint of skepticism in her tone. “But also, doesn’t it worry you? We’ve seen her fall hard before.”

“I know,” Ayesha sighed, her gaze softening as she studied her sister's blissful expression. “But look at her. She’s glowing. Kylian seems different. It's like he sees her, you know? Like he respects her.”

“I see it, but I can't help but keep my guard up,” Tabitha replied, crossing her arms with a mix of protectiveness and admiration. “She deserves to be treated right.”

Just then, Giselle and Kylian shared another secret smile that lit up their faces, and both sisters couldn't help but feel the connection between them intensify the atmosphere in the room. It was more than just attraction—it was like a magnetic pull that drew them closer together.

“Okay,” Ayesha relented, biting her lip as she watched. “I’ll give him this chance. But I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Same here,” Tabitha nodded, her protective instincts kicking in. “We should look out for her, but something tells me she's safe with him.”

As the halftime show came to an end and the game resumed, Kylian remained in the private box with Giselle and her sisters.

The game was intense between the Celtics and The Knick, and in the third quarter, Celtic's frontman Jayson Tatum went down with an injury that saw him carried off the court.

As an athlete, Kylian empathized deeply and by the end of the game both New York walked away with the win, bettering their chances of advancing in the Eastern Conference.

When the game was over, the Knicks in high spirits invited Kylian onto the court which naturally attracted the attention of media outlets that lingered courtside.

Giselle waited courtside with her sisters, the actress and model attracting her attention as she engaged in a conversation with a few journalists who were eager to capture the moment. Cameras flashed as they snapped photos, and Giselle couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions.

Aside from the people closest to them, the world was none the wiser to Giselle’s relationship with one of modern football's brightest stars.

It wasn't a secret nor were they hiding one another, but they were both aware of just how messy things could get as two people who lived their lives in the public eye, albeit Kylian's level of celebrity far outweighed Giselle’s.

Giselle stood at the edge of the court, her heart racing as she caught glimpses of Kylian surrounded by journalists as if he were part of The Knicks’ roster. The atmosphere was electric, filled with excitement and the vibration of cheering fans as she waited with her sisters.

“For such a humble guy, he is a big deal,” Tabitha commented, a hint of awe in her voice as she watched Kylian engage effortlessly with reporters, his charisma shining through.

Ayesha smirked, “He’s stealing the spotlight.” She nudged Giselle playfully.

“He is,” she agreed as they slowly began to make their way out of the arena, heading towards the parking garage so they could be driven over to their next destination.

The Italian restaurant that Kylian had rented out for the remainder of the evening was one that Giselle had expressed to him once in a random conversation and was one of her favorites in the world.

A fact that she couldn't help but notice upon him telling her their plans for the evening.

As they walked through the parking garage, Giselle couldn't contain the smile on her face. She loved the excitement and buzz that filled the air after a thrilling game, but even more, she adored the thoughtfulness Kylian had shown in planning the evening.

“Kylian went all out, didn’t he?” she mused aloud, glancing at her sisters who walked beside her. “I can’t believe he rented out a whole restaurant just for us.”

Tabitha grinned, “Well, he seems to like you. I mean, come on.”

Giselle smiled, a warmth flooding her chest. “He’s different, and I appreciate how much he cares.”

As they reached the car, another sleek black SUV pulled up, and Kylian stepped out, his figure leaving a striking silhouette against the backdrop of the parking garage. He looked effortlessly handsome, dressed casually in jeans, a T-shirt, and a jacket that accentuated his physique and gave him an air of sophistication.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his eyes lighting up when he spotted Giselle. He approached her, his expression softening as he leaned down to steal a quick kiss, planting butterflies in her stomach.

Giselle felt her heart flutter as Kylian's lips met hers, the brief kiss sending a jolt of electricity through her body. She could get used to this, to being greeted by him like this every time they met. As they pulled apart, she couldn't help but smile, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"You’re doing amazing tonight," she said, referencing the effort he’d put into the evening. "My sisters are impressed."

Kylian grinned, his ego slightly inflated by her praise. "Just doing my job," he replied with a wink, before looking past her to where her sisters stood. "But enough about me. Are you ladies ready for dinner?"

Tabitha and Ayesha nodded enthusiastically, both already won over by their sister's boyfriend who had gone above and beyond to accommodate them.

Kylian led the group to the waiting SUV, holding the door open for Giselle and her sisters to climb in before sliding in beside Giselle. As the vehicle pulled away from the curb, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close.

"So, what did you think of the game?" he asked, his gaze flicking between Giselle and the passing cityscape outside the window.

"It was intense," Giselle replied, leaning into his touch. "I'm glad the Knicks pulled off the win."

"Me too," Kylian agreed, his thumb absently tracing circles on her shoulder. "Tatum's injury was a shame, though. He's a great player."

Giselle nodded, "It was, but at least he'll recover and be back stronger."

As they continued their conversations, the SUV arrived at the restaurant, a charming Italian establishment tucked away in a quiet side street. The driver opened the door, and Kylian stepped out, offering his hand to Giselle to help her down.

"After you, ladies," he said, gesturing for Tabitha and Ayesha to exit as well.

The restaurant's owner greeted them warmly at the entrance, leading them inside to a beautifully decorated private dining room. The table was set with elegant china, sparkling crystal glasses, and flickering candles, casting a warm glow over the space.

"Wow, Kylian," Giselle breathed, taking in the romantic atmosphere. "This is amazing."

Kylian smiled, pleased with her reaction. "Only the best for you and your family," he said, pulling out a chair for her.

As Giselle sat down, Kylian took his place beside her, his hand finding hers beneath the table. The soft touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she glanced at him with a smile. The intimate gesture wasn't lost on Tabitha and Ayesha, who exchanged knowing looks across the table.

"So, Kylian," Tabitha began, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Giselle's told us a bit about your football career, but we'd love to hear more. What's it like being one of the world's top players?"

Kylian chuckled, squeezing Giselle's hand gently. "It's a lot of hard work, but also incredibly rewarding.”

Kylian leaned back in his chair, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "Hard work, indeed. The hours are long, and the pressure is always there, but I love every minute of it. There's nothing quite like the feeling of scoring a goal, knowing that you've just brought joy to fans."

He paused, taking a sip of his water before continuing. "And the camaraderie with my teammates is unbeatable. We're like a family, on and off the field."

Ayesha nodded, impressed with the man say before her. "That's amazing. And Giselle, you must be so proud of him," she said, turning to her sister with a grin.

Giselle beamed, her eyes shining with admiration. "I am," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. "He's not only an incredible athlete, but an amazing man too."

As the conversations flowed, the waiter arrived to take their orders. Kylian ordered a bottle of fine wine to share among the group, his hand never leaving Giselle's beneath the table.

Dinner came and went in a blur of laughter, delicious food, and shared stories. They indulged in plates of rich pasta, fresh salads, and authentic Italian dishes, each bite bringing Giselle closer to feeling at home in Kylian's world. The ease with which they conversed made her heart swell with happiness.

After the main course, Kylian raised his glass to propose a toast. “To new beginnings,” he said, his gaze settling on Giselle, who blushed under his intense stare. “And to the incredible people who make life worth celebrating.”

Giselle felt her chest tighten with emotion, her heart swelling with warmth as they all clinked glasses. “To new beginnings,” she echoed, feeling a sense of belonging wash over her.

As dessert was served—a decadent tiramisu that melted in her mouth—Giselle took the opportunity to glance up at Kylian. He watched her with an expression that was a mix of admiration and affection, and she felt butterflies dance in her stomach.

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?” Kylian said softly, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

Giselle looked down at her plate, a shy smile spreading across her face. “You might have mentioned it once or twice,” she teased, meeting his gaze.

“I mean it,” he insisted, leaning closer. “I’m grateful to be spending this evening with you.”

Just then, Tabitha and Ayesha exchanged glances, raising their eyebrows at their exchange. “Okay, we can see the lovebirds are in their own world,” Tabitha teased, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Kylian chuckled, and Giselle's laughter joined his, the playful banter making the moment even more enjoyable.

As the night wore on, the atmosphere grew more relaxed, and the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from dreams and aspirations to silly childhood memories. Giselle's sisters shared their own embarrassing stories, creating a comfortable and warm ambiance where laughter echoed throughout the restaurant.

When dessert was finished, Kylian signaled for the check and turned to Giselle. “I’ve really enjoyed tonight,” he said, his expression sincere. “It’s been nice having your sisters around. They’re wonderful.”

Giselle nodded, her heart full. “They are. I’m glad you got to meet them. I think they like you,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I hope so. It means a lot to me,” Kylian replied as they stood to leave. He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the exit.

Outside, the Manhattan night enveloped them in a cool embrace, but the warmth between them ignited once more. Kylian opened the car door for Giselle before slipping in beside her. As the driver began to pull away, Giselle thought about how perfect the evening had turned out to be.

“Thank you for everything tonight. You really know how to make a girl feel special,” she said, turning to Kylian, her eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the streetlights.

“It’s my pleasure,” Kylian replied, his voice low and earnest. “I want to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

As they drove through the bustling streets of New York City, Giselle leaned her head against Kylian’s shoulder, feeling a sense of peace envelop her. The warmth of their connection wrapped around her like a comforting blanket.

When they finally arrived back at the hotel, Kylian turned to Giselle, his expression serious yet tender. “I'm going to accompany your sisters to their rooms and meet you back in ours,” he explained, his eyes filled with lust and desire as they traced over her.

The day had been long and Kylian had spent most of it fantasizing about finally getting his hands on her.

Giselle felt her heart race at the thought of being alone with him again, her body tingling with anticipation. “Okay,” she replied, biting her lip as she stepped out of the car. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Kylian smiled, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned in closer. “Just a few minutes, and I promise I’m all yours,” he whispered, brushing his lips softly against her ear before pulling away.

As he walked away to join her sisters, Giselle took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She felt exhilarated, knowing that their connection had deepened throughout the evening. The way Kylian looked at her, the little moments they shared, made her heart swell with affection.

Giselle made her way to their hotel suite, her mind racing with thoughts of what was to come. She felt a mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in her stomach. She wanted to savor every moment with Kylian, to explore the depths of their feelings together.

Once inside the suite, she took a moment to freshen up, glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed from the evening, her hair slightly tousled, and she couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Kylian’s adoring gaze.

After a quick touch-up, she slipped into a comfortable yet alluring outfit—a silk robe that accentuated her curves and covered her make body beneath. It felt luxurious against her skin, and she could only hope Kylian would appreciate it as much as she did.

The minutes felt like hours as she waited for him to return, her heart racing with anticipation. Finally, she heard the soft knock at the door, and her breath hitched in her throat.

“Come in,” she called.

The door swung open, and Kylian stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto Giselle. The moment he laid eyes on her, his breath hitched in his throat. The sight of her in that silk robe, her hair cascading over her shoulders, took his breath away.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with desire. “You look stunning.”

Giselle felt her cheeks flush at his words, a warm rush of confidence washing over her. “Thank you,” she replied shyly, biting her lip as she took a small step closer to him untying the rope of her robe as Kylian's eyes widened as he registered the movement, his heart racing as he absorbed the sight of her beneath the fabric. The way she looked at him, the confidence radiating from her, was intoxicating.

"I want to make love to you," he declared, his voice thick with desire as he stepped closer, closing the distance between them.

“I want that too,” Giselle whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she stepped closer to him, the space between them charged with palpable tension. She could see the desire flickering in his eyes, and it set her heart racing even faster.

Kylian reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of longing and need, a promise of what was to come. Giselle melted into him, her body responding instinctively as she opened up to him, deepening the kiss.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as if he were afraid she might slip away. Every kiss ignited a fire within her, every touch made her ache for him more. She could feel the warmth radiating off his body, the strength of him enveloping her entirely.

As they kissed, Kylian's hands roamed over her back, pulling her even closer, and she could feel the heat building between them. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmured against her lips, his breath warm and inviting.

Giselle's heart raced at his words, the intensity of his gaze igniting a thrill within her. "Show me.”

Kylian's eyes darkened with desire at her words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "With pleasure," he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip her hips firmly.

He walked her backwards until her legs hit the edge of the bed, then gently pushed her down onto the plush mattress. Giselle's heart pounded as she watched him, her breath coming in short gasps. Kylian stood over her, his gaze roaming over her body hungrily.

Slowly, deliberately, he slipped off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest inch by inch. Giselle's mouth went dry at the sight, her eyes widening as she took in the definition of his abs, the tautness of his pecs. He shrugged off the shirt completely, letting it fall to the floor.

Kneeling on the bed, he crawled over her, his hands trailing up her legs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her silk robe, slowly pulling it open to expose her bare skin beneath. Kylian's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her, his eyes darkening with lust. "I love this perfect little body," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone, then another to the valley between her breasts. Giselle arched into his touch, her fingers threading through his hair as he explored her body with his lips and tongue.

Kylian's hand slid up her thigh, his touch featherlight as he teased her inner leg. Giselle's breath hitched, her hips lifting off the bed instinctively. He smiled against her skin, knowing he was driving her wild with anticipation.

His fingers found her center, and he groaned at the warmth and wetness he encountered. "You're always so ready for me," he murmured, circling her clit with his thumb as he slipped a finger inside her.

Giselle gasped at the sudden intrusion, her inner walls clamping down around his finger. Kylian's eyes flashed with satisfaction as he began to move, pumping his finger in and out of her slow and steady. His thumb continued to work her clit, the dual stimulation driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"Kylian," she panted, her hips bucking against his hand. "I need more. Please."

He growled low in his throat, adding a second finger and curling them inside her. The sensation was incredible, and Giselle felt herself spiraling towards release. Just as she was about to crest the peak, Kylian pulled his hand away, leaving her bereft and aching.

"No baby," she cried, her eyes flying open to meet his gaze. "Please don't stop."

"I'm going to be inside you when you come," he explained, his voice strained with his own need.

He quickly shed the rest of his clothes, revealing his impressive erection. Giselle's eyes widened at the sight, a mix of anticipation and slight apprehension fluttering in her stomach. Kylian noticed her gaze and smiled reassuringly.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, positioning himself between her thighs.

He leaned down to kiss her deeply as he guided himself to her entrance. Giselle wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting her hips to welcome him in. With a slow, steady push, Kylian entered her, groaning at the incredible feeling of her tight heat enveloping him.

They both stilled for a moment, adjusting to the sensation. Giselle's nails dug into his back as she reveled in the feeling of fullness. Kylian kissed her softly, giving her time to acclimate before he began to move.

He started with slow, deliberate thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in to the hilt, a soft squelch present with each flex of his hips.

“Baby,” Giselle gasped. “You feel so good,” the roll of her hips matching the snap of his.

Kylian's pace quickened, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by their ragged breaths and soft moans.

"Fuck, Giselle," he grunted, his face buried in the crook of her neck. "You're so tight. So fucking perfect."

His words sent shivers down her spine, fueling the fire building low in her belly. Giselle's legs tightened around his waist, urging him deeper, harder. Kylian obliged, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding.

The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall with each forceful drive of his hips. Giselle's fingers raked down his back, leaving red welts in their wake.

Giselle's cries grew louder, more desperate, as Kylian's pace became relentless. The pleasure was overwhelming, consuming her entire being. She could feel her climax building, the coil in her belly tightening with each thrust.

"Yes, Kylian! Just like that," she screamed, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm gonna come!"

At her words, Kylian redoubled his efforts, his hips pistoning wildly. He could feel her inner muscles fluttering around his shaft, signaling her impending release.

“Tell me you love me, Giselle,” he growled. “Tell me you love me the way I love you.”

Giselle's eyes flew open, locking onto Kylian's intense gaze. His words hung in the air between them, a desperate plea and a demand all in one. She could feel her orgasm crashing over her, her body convulsing with the force of it.

"I love you!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from the intensity of her release. "I love you so fucking much!"

Kylian's own climax hit him like a freight train at her confession. He threw his head back, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as he spilled himself deep inside her. His hips jerked erratically, prolonging both their pleasure.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweatsoaked skin. Kylian rolled to the side, pulling Giselle with him so she was draped across his chest. They lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

“I love you,” he murmured as his lips found hers, his body melting on top of Giselle as he lost himself in her, yet again.

Giselle's heart swelled at his words, her cheeks flushing with warmth as she nestled closer against him. "I love you too, Kylian," she whispered, feeling the weight of their shared confession settle comfortably between them. It was a moment she had dreamed of, and now that it was real, it felt surreal.

Kylian smiled, a look of pure contentment on his face as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from her forehead. "I want to be there for you, in every way," he said softly. "You have no idea how much you mean to me."

Giselle's heart raced at the sincerity in his voice. "You mean everything to me too," she replied, her fingers tracing patterns over his chest. "I never expected to feel this way, but you make it so easy."

Kylian chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I guess we were both caught off guard that night in Paris, huh?"

"Definitely," Giselle agreed, biting her lip as she gazed up at him. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

[walkingstackofbooks]

Thinking about the fact that Julian lived for seventeen years without telling anyone about his biggest secret and worse fear.

I don't think I've ever stopped to really consider what that must have felt like. Every single time he had a bad day because of it, every single time he got fucked up thinking too hard about it, he had to handle completely alone. For 17 years. More than half his life.

Gah, my words are insufficient. It's not like I've never thought about his secret haunting his life before - I've written a small amount and read an abundance on the theme - but the idea has just hit me different and I don't know how to explain it. Maybe it's less about how he feels, and more about the fact that he can't tell anyone how he's feeling, why he's feeling? The mundanity of every day having a secret burning a hole in the back of your head and itching for the relief of someone knowing and knowing you have to avoid scratching it if you don't want to ruin your life and this being ordinary.

Idk. The big things that I've kept secret at times in my life - crushes on girls, my asexuality, losing my faith, to name a few... God, I can't imagine having kept them completely quiet for the whole of my life until now, and that would 'only' have been 13, 10, 6 years. And when they were secret, I remeber how they used to eat away at me, how I could barely even have a conversation at times without thinking about it and about telling someone every few minutes. Every few seconds, even.

I just... I dunno. I guess it feels like it's a fact that's so easy to gloss over - or not quite 'gloss over', I guess, because it is mentioned. But more, like, it's a fact that's normalised, perhaps? Of course Julian's kept this secret since he was fifteen, of course that fucked him up, that's an essential part of his character that we all love exploring, you know?

But seventeen fucking years without being able to access any sort of community, without being able to ever put your feelings into words (apart from shouting at your parents, perhaps, which is a whole 'nother world of feelings), without even being able to send an anonymous question into some stranger's inbox in the hopes that in a couple of days you'll see their reply and know you're not completely alone. We know he kept at least one version of a diary that was so clean of his secrets that he had no qualms about asking Jadzia to read them pre-reveal. Did he keep another, more discardable diary to write down any enhancement-based feelings? Or did he just completely censor himself, even in private? My money would be on the latter.

Secrets are fucking painful things, and in my experience at least, only get more painful over time. Seventeen years, and not a single hug, a single comforting word. Seventeen years of supression and repression and redirection of your own thoughts and not even being able to dream of telling anyone how much you hurt because you're far too aware that your world would crumble around you if that eevr happened.

God. It's so much, and I can't imagine how he did it. Seventeen years! Seventeen!

[slight-gaming-addict]

little things

masterlist | send in a request | ko-fi

their love languages

characters: leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto

𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒂 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒓

Quality time

he'll act like he hates it, but secretly loves when you're with him

even when both of you are in the same room but neither of you are talking

he always finds an excuse to keep you in the room with him whenever you go to leave

he's not completely subtle about it and you know what he's trying to do by the second time he's stopped you from leaving the room

he'll make ruggie bring you guys food so you don't have to leave

he doesn't talk much, but will listen to any stories you have

he'll always agree to go out with you whether it be shopping or just going out for a walk, even if he'll grumble about it

if you're out alone, you'll always end up bumping into him

you know it's not an accident because he's never out that much

but you don't mention it because you know he'll just deny it

even if it's blatantly obvious what he's doing

Physical touch

he usually doesn't like people touching him

but with you it's different

he'll grumble about it, but he secretly loves whenever you hug or grab his hand

if you confront him about it, he'll deny it

you go to bed with your head on his chest and you'll wake up in the morning with him curled up next to you practically clinging to you

there are times where he'll fall asleep with his head in your lap

literally purrs if you run your fingers through his hair

he's not as expressive while in public, but will lazily drape his arm around your shoulders nonchalantly

will rub up on you to get your attention

you'll find his tail wrapped around your wrist or leg at times unintentionally

forget trying to get up from his embrace in the middle of the night to get a glass of water

he has you practically glued down until morning

𝑨𝒛𝒖𝒍 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐

Acts of service/Gift giving

this man will spoil you rotten

if he knows you're stopping by the Monstro Lounge, he will make sure to have your favorite food and drink ready for as soon as you enter

if you stop by unannounced, he makes sure to put a special order in for you, and have it done under five minutes

stressed about a due date for an assignment? no worries it's now due a week later

he doesn't want you lifting a finger to do something while with him

if you happen to forget eating, you'll find meals left for you three times a day

there's always a handwritten note with each meal making you wonder how he has time for this while also running a business

you always have the sneaking suspicion that he's also the one cooking all the meals

these things could be easily shifted into gift giving by the amount of things this man is willing to buy for you

you don't even have to ask and the thing you looked at through the store window just for a split second is in your hands

if you ever try to decline one of his presents, he'll practically force it into your hands claiming he only wants to see you happy

Words of affirmation

someone praise this man.

no seriously one hint of any kind of praise or loving words of any kind he'll become a blushing and blubbering fool

especially when it's from someone he cares about

the first time you say 'i love you' he almost faints

pet names make him practically physically melt

he's not used to getting them, so the first time you use one for him he doesn't know what to do

you don't see him for the rest of the day leaving you wonder if you did something wrong

once you see him again he has to assure you that it's not your fault, he just needed to recover

he never gets used to them, they still make him as flustered as they did when he first heard them

you've come to love the way he responds to them

"can you hand me a pen, love?" his cheeks darken significantly and he passes you the pen without saying a word

buy me a coffee ♡

[lostwrlds]

MARRY ME BY THE KITCHEN SINK ── ISAGI .ᐟ

( 📡 ) summary; in the quaint heart of his childhood home and on his parents' wedding anniversary, yoichi isagi realises he'd like to spend the rest of his life with you, build a home with you, have everything with you - leading to a very impromptu proposal amidst domestic clinks and clatters of freshly washed dishes. 4K

✩ lost notes ! hello hello everyone !! it's my birthday woohoo !! as an excuse to post writing here is a small little gift to you as thanks for joining me on this blog ! thank u for supporting if ur reading this, please look forward more soon !! sorry 4 any typos mwah !!⋆˙⟡♡

✩ warnings ! minors, blank & ageless accounts do not interact. fluff & domestic bliss, female reader, pro player isagi, characters are adults. proposals, talks of marriage, brief mentions of children, minor injuries as reader cuts herself on glass, probably inaccurate use of honorifics.

── © LOSTWRLDS ╱ 2025.

isagi proposes to you while you wash dishes together in his childhood home.

he had been abroad for a few away games, making a name for himself in countries you can only dream of visiting and was planning to fly home the day of his parents' wedding anniversary. he refused to miss it, he owed it to be there for his mother and father who had raised him so well and so right — especially now that he had means to spoil them the way they did him.

as soon as isagi touches base in japan, he has his driver take him straight to his childhood home with a suitcase full of bounty, ready to shower the people who raised him in plentiful gifts. souvenirs from every place he’s been to. his dad likes fridge magnets so there's one from each country he’s played in whilst his mom is a fan of those fancy ornamental plates that you never use but put on display. he'd told you he would swing by to see you afterwards, no matter how late it was. because as much as isagi’s missed his parents — he’s missed touching you, feeling you and the scent of your airy perfume whenever you brushed by him too. you would be next on his list.

but as he kicked off his beat up converse by the door, switched into some house-slippers before stepping onto the tatami floor — he hadn’t expected to be greeted by the sight of you in his mother’s arms, being fawned over by the older woman for bringing a basket of fresh fruits over from the market after work. the sound of your laughter coasting along the walls of his childhood home has to be sweeter than the peaches and pears you’ve gifted his parents. a silent thank you for raising the yoichi you’ve come to know and love. 

“happy anniversary,” you’d bleated softly, cheeks beginning to sting from just how wide you're smiling. he'd noted, just from staring a little while in the entryway, how there are crows feet at the corners of your dazzling eyes. little wrinkles of time that tell tales and count the numerous occasions in which you’ve smiled in your life. yoichi couldn’t help but wonder how many of them he had been behind, how many more smiles he’d get to earn from you in your lifetime. “thank you for everything that you do.”

a lifetime with you. a lifetime with you like this, in his home or maybe the one you’ll build together in the future. maybe you’ll fill it with enough memories to last; trophies from isagi’s many championing wins, your many arts and crafts half abandoned from where you pick up new hobbies and maybe even… children. little ones with his big eyes in your colour, the curl pattern of your hair and the slope of his nose. a world between four walls with the people he loved to call his own — with a partner to make a home.

those little thoughts, hopes and dreams for the future, they cling to the crevices of the soccer star’s mind — replay like an old movie. the type recorded onto a thick vhs tape that clatters when you push it into the slot at the bottom of an old TV. nostalgic but like a welcome home hug. they ring like silver speckles of static in his ear, guiding isagi through the evening —  the cuddles you share on the couch and while his mother flips through her frayed-edged photo album from the day she married his father. you’re warm, tucked into his side whilst the pad of your finger traces cursive dates underneath Polaroid’s from the late nineties. he feels the same static crackle under his skin during the dinner you’d so thoughtfully prepared for his parents too. 

with deep ocean eyes he’d watched you flit in and out of the kitchen for an entire evening — frazzled but beaming, sauced smeared across your cheeks and flour dusted on your hands and your soul so vibrantly alive. you had looked a mess, but, a beautiful one at that and his mind gets away from him once more, picturing you late nights and hand pulled noodles for dinner as a couple that lives together. 

he can’t help but wonder if this would be the two of you in a few decades time. like his mother and father, married for what feels like a joyful eternity, with a child and their partner celebrating your anniversary too. 

they’re his shining example, his mother and father. whilst they’ve had their ups and downs, they still manage to raise a boy worthy enough of your love.. he wants this for the two of you.

such visions and dreams, the depths of isagi’s vivid imagination distract him until you’re standing side by side in his tiny childhood kitchen. you’re washing dishes and he’s drying, the tea towel in his hand rough from use over the years as he dabs away suds and droplets of warm water. it’s quiet, peaceful between the two of you. never uncomfortable. he can tell that you’re pleased with the success of your treat for his parents and even happier to have been relegated to kitchen duty with his help — grateful to spend some time together wrapped in semi-domestic bliss. 

“thank you for today,” yoichi rasps as he sets a drinking glass on the drainage board and you make a move to unplug the sink — watching used dish water swirl down the drain before you fill it up again. “my parents, they really love having you around when i’m gone…” pursing his lips, the soccer star eyes your side profile and the subtle smile that tugs at the corner of your lush lips, causing them to quirk upwards. “okaasan likes having a daughter.” 

a quiet hint. subdued thoughts.

turning, you grasp the washing up liquid from the countertop and watch it bubble up on the clear, hypnotic surface of the hot water trickling into the basin. “yeah?” you stack the dishes within the soapy abyss, rinsing off muck from meals and scratch away curry stains from cream porcelain. “i like being around them too… they’re good fun. your mom reminds me of you all too much, she let me bother her and kept me company while you were away.”

you have more to say, but your boyfriend doesn’t press. he knows it’s hard when he’s abroad and the only times the two of you get to talk are when your timezones somehow magically align. yoichi wishes he could bring you wherever he goes and he knows in a heartbeat you’d drop everything that you could to be with him… but he couldn’t allow that. not with your blossoming career. at least not yet. he would wait to take care of you, like a good man would when he’s got plans to make their love everlasting. 

in quiet synchronicity, the two of you return to your household chore —  the only sounds filling the room being the cutlery clinking against tableware as it's  drowned in the sublime scent of fresh lemon. such a smell  makes the air feel cleaner, fresh, keeping isagi in the present moment and away from future plans that curl around his heart like a distractingly annoying weed. 

“yoichi,” comes your fond whisper, his name and its syllables like a promise of love on your tongue. your fingers brush as you pass him a freshly washed plate to dry and he feels the most alive he’s ever been. yoichi isagi, japan’s beloved striker and diamond in the rough, feels more adrenaline being tucked into your side doing dishes than he does racing down a pitch to score a goal. “yoichi, i’ve missed you, i prefer it when you’re home…”

your admission makes his heart melt and stop all the same. it’s sweet, you need him because when isagi’s away it feels like a piece of the puzzle is incomplete. he likes that, that you need him just as much as he needs you. without realising, the soccer player’s body gravitates towards you and you towards his, wet fingers slipping into the smart little dress shirt and sweater mix he wears. his own hands snake possessively around your waist, pinning you against the cabinet whilst he swoops the distance down to your height — debating between kissing you to devour you whole and keeping things PG in his mother’s kitchen. 

warmth from the pads of your fingers sink through his clothes, damp, but not unwelcome and his precious blue eyes threaten to flutter shut at the sweet sound of your surprised gasp and the way your shaky breath ghosts over his lips — a breath’s width away from his own. “i always miss you more,” isagi finally allows himself to say, clinging onto threads of restraint because he really can’t afford to have his parents catching him tripping over you like a teenager in their home. there’ll be moments like this, in the future he envisions, where you’ll hide such affections from your kids when they’re old enough to have it ‘gross’ them out. until then, you two the kids in the situation — trying not to get caught. “i much prefer this, seeing you in my home. s’cute.” 

you really are trying to behave, especially when your future in-laws are right outside, and isagi knows that. he can tell from the tiny, nearly-missable way you bite down on your bottom lip and shy away from the kisses he’s about to plant on you. it’s obvious in the way that your gaze flickers just past his shoulders and back onto the contours of his handsome face — you feel it too, the giddiness of love that only he can elicit in you.

but then you surprise the striker, standing on your tippy toes to snatch a chaste kiss from his lips like a thief in the night whilst your sudsy hands make a mess of his dark tinted hair. “it’s cute watching me make dinner and do dishes?” you taunt him, a playful glint dancing around in your pretty eyes. “are you trying to tell me you’re into that whole ‘soccer wife’ thing, yoichi?”

parts of it, yes. he’d never ask you to give up your job but coming home to you like this is what appeals to him most. he’d cook dinner with you, do dishes with you, chores on a sunny sunday with you. anything with you. yoichi just wants his rock on your finger to seal the deal. he wants married life with you. 

so he rolls his eyes instead, arm slipping to the curve in your spine as he nearly bends you over the kitchen sink, the water still running and sloshing about the place. melodious laughter fills the waist space and he smothers your face in affectionately placed smooches because he just can’t help the way love takes over him. isagi loves you so much he feels like needs to be a part of you, never leave you, make you his forever because he wants to be yours for an eternity. 

lips just graze over one another and you try not to teeter on the edge of something that could become very inappropriate very quickly — the two of you can’t be trusted when you’re alone together like this. you smile with your teeth between lazily, giggly snogs. you fit against isagi like a glove and he loves that and sees it in his future oh so brightly. 

the two of you are severely distracted, barely noticing mama isagi passing by with a knowing grin — coughing not so subtly as she watches her son fall so deeply in love. “yoichi isagi, i hope you're washing dishes and not letting your girlfriend pick up your slack." she comments slyly and the two of you jump apart like you’ve been zapped with electricity, eyes wide and lips just one or two kisses away from being swollen. 

"n-no, sorry!" you squeak before your boyfriend can, gently pushing him off and whipping around to shove your shaky hands in the sink. “dishes are being done! y-yoichi is a great help!” 

you’re so shy it kills him, makes his tummy twist, he wants you so bad and to keep you all to himself. would you say yes? would you marry him if he asked? he hangs his head, mulling it over and letting his embarrassment simmer into something else — determination. 

his mum laughs and you’re both straight as rods — heat bubbling under your skin, which makes isagi flush. you’ve been caught and you share a cheeky sneaky glance, trying not to laugh. “ma, some privacy please!” yoichi huffs, trying to save face and calm your nerves… because even after all this time, with his parents adoring you to the ends of the earth, you still feel bashful about being too clingy and sickly sweet with isagi in front of the older isagis. will that change when or if you’re married? 

he hopes not. he likes you like this and the way you hide your face in his shoulder the second his mother is gone.

“god,” you whisper and squirm in place, digits dancing around in lukewarm water to finish washing up. “you have to stop doing that, getting caught by your parents is still so embarrassing.” you’re warning him, though your words carry no weight or anger. everything is playful, pure. something that yoichi wants to last beyond his years. 

he’s always gotten what he’s wanted. isagi wants what he wants and gets what he gets. he didn’t become japan’s diamond striker without drive and determination — and right now he’s determined to have you by his side for all of forever.

by his side bumping hips while doing dishes.

so isagi moves without thinking, speaks without preparing and two important words wafts from between his lips before he can stop them.

"marry me."

the drinking glass you had been gently scrubbing suddenly slips from your nimble fingers in a manner that expresses your surprise. its shards splinter across your hands as it drips, just barely nicking you. moving quickly, you pull the plug and empty the sink again — making sure that neither you or isagi are cut any further by straggling fragments of glass. crimson seeps into the soapy water while you rinse your wounds under an ice cold tap, your boyfriend ashamedly tossing out the broken cup whilst his words hang in the citrusy air.

“w-what?” you manage after a few beats of silence, blood rushing through your ears and heart rate so high you’re worried the quick-witted striker might pick up on it. 

shit.

it’s too late for the striker to back peddle, not when you’re staring up at him with those beautifully wide eyes like you’re a deer that’s been caught in headlights. he stammers and stumbles, trying to wrack his brain for some kind of logical explanation… but is there any ever logic behind loving another person as much as he does? “i um… i asked if you would marry me?” isagi blurts, cheeks blaring a bright red whilst his endearingly blue eyes dart everywhere but you. "i-i mean, i don't have a ring. i can get you one, if that’s something that you want. i mean, of course, it’s something you want… who doesn’t want that…” panic starts to settle in and play with his pulse, his beating heart working overtime to push adrenaline through his system, probably accompanied by a dash of cortisol in the bloodstream too. 

because he has no idea what he was thinking, asking for your hand in marriage without all or the typical jumps and hoops he would have to get through. “and ah, fuck! i have a few more away games until the end of the season, some in the summer too… so we might not be able to plan a wedding properly until christmas. and i have no idea what my contract for next year will look like but—” more so to calm himself than you, yoichi dips his hands into the water to free your own from the sink with the utmost care and precision, making sure that your little cuts from the fragile shattered glass don't get any worse. absentmindedly but albeit a bit frazzled — he works quickly to wrap a tea towel around them, intent on stopping the bleeding. "i want to. be with you. forever, i mean. so, will you? marry me?"

it's at that moment that mama isagi decides she needs to supervise her son again and steps back into the kitchen, her jaw damn near dropping to the floor at the scene unfolding before her. her brown eyes widen comically,  in a way that reminds you entirely too much of your sweet boyfriend. if you weren’t so shell shocked, you would have cooed and commented on the resemblance. "yoichi isagi! you — you cannot just propose without a ring in my tattered old kitchen!" his mother squeals, voice high pitched and flailing. you both flinch, her disappointment ringing in your ears. "didn't i raise you better?"

"o-okaasan!" yoichi retorts, nearly whining like a petulant child because this really wasn’t supposed to get out of hand.

he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed about this, doesn’t want to regret his own actions either. he just wants to marry you.

"just you wait until your father hears about this — honey!" the elder isagi summons her husband, only flustering her son more. "come and tell yoichi that he can't just propose out of the blue!"

"you need a ring, son!" papa isagi yells back from his place on the couch. he’d turned on the TV to accompany him during his recovery from your thoughtful and filling dinner.

"see!"

in response to it all, you find yourself tucking your face into your shoulder sheepishly — like you’re attempting to retreat into a shell. truth be told, marriage and one to isagi was something you’d only ever dreamed about, unsure if it would fit into his puzzling lifestyle as a soccer player. the mere fact that he’d asked whether he meant to or not, however, warms you down to the deepest parts of your soul. "okaasan, it really is alright..." you mumble timidly, trying not to wince at the pain in your hands while you do your best to reassure the isagis before you.

your boyfriend or… fiancé (?), instead, regains control of the situation after briefly floundering alongside his mother. he takes a step forward while his hands still cover yours and lets a firmness fill his next words. " i did think about this!" yoichi says, syllables rushed but voice enthusiastic. "i think about everything! you guys know that… from my plays on the pitch, to how i can get stronger and what i should eat to become a better player..." the star striker turns to you next, his cobalt eyes calm like the ocean waves on a sunny day-practically glimmering with how much adoration he has for you. "and this, it was a no brainer. when i'm with her, all my choices feel right. easy. i'm the best i'll ever be by her side. so asking her to marry me isn't just some fluke."

isagi tilts his head to the side, watching your face soften — brows creased at the centre of your forehead and bottom lip ever so wobbly. even when overcome with emotion, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world to him. 

"i mean it."

by the time he finishes, both of your hands are beginning to itch from the drying suds on your skin but you don't dare let go of yoichi. all you need is a minute, a second to process the magnitude of what he’s asking you — trepidation fills the air where you leave silence, attempting to find your words and convey that what you are feeling is not hesitation but instead gratitude. you’re grateful for whatever you must have done in your past life to deserve a man like this. sensitive, kind and incredibly down bad. a man who loves you with every fibre of his being, who feels safe enough with you that he would propose in his childhood home.

before anyone can say anything more, your head is already subtly jerking up and down — a preemptive ‘yes’ whilst both you and mama isagi watch your boyfriend sink down on one knee whilst the rough pad of his thumb brushes over your ring finger nervously. his adam’s apple bobs gently and during the time between him licking his lips and speaking — his father has appeared beside his mother in the doorway of the kitchen.  

“so, i’ll ask again. without a ring or all of the grandeur but as a man on his knees looking to make a promise to the girl he loves…” yoichi exhales as if to push out his nerves, his golden skin paling ever so slightly despite the rose flush to his cheeks. if you weren’t so overcome with emotion, you might have laughed at him and kissed his pretty face — since he looks so adorably frightened down there on one knee, the tile on the kitchen floor surely causing an indent in his skin. his voice wobbles as he says your name, lips parting to form the question. “will you marry me?”

now you’re nodding so hard the isagis are worried your head might drop off — someone in the room is blubbering but you’re not sure if it’s mum or dad or yourself, you’re only able to tell when you make a pathetic attempt at finding the will to speak and lift a hand to cover your mouth. your cheeks are hot to the touch upon making contact with your hands, unmistakably wet too. only then do you realise that you’re sniffling in the middle of the kitchen, covered over a half-washed set of pots and pans and plates  while you do your best not to ugly sob. 

“yes, oh my gosh, yes!” you chirp wetly. “of course i’ll marry you, yoichi!” 

that’s all the confirmation yoichi needs before he’s darting to his feet, not being able to take not having you in his arms for much longer, and sets his hands on your hips — picking you up and twirling you as best as he can in the tiny little space. light hearted and happy cheers echo into the night because now there’s even more reason to celebrate. now that yoichi isagi is engaged to the love of his life, on his parents’ anniversary no less. 

it all feels right. feels special. 

“i love you,” he mumbles as your palms come to rest on his sturdy shoulders again, legs wrapped around his waist for support. “love you so much.” 

you grin, albeit a little wet and messy, nuzzling your nose against isagi’s. “love you, always and forever more.”

warmth buzzes through you as the two of you stay wrapped up in one another — though it’s not long before mama isagi is lightly scolding her son, affection laced within her tone. “alright, yoichi, why don’t you finish these dishes while i get her patched up! i-i thought i told you not to slack,” she says shakily but you know she’s oh so proud of and happy for her son — pinching his cheeks like he’s a little boy again. amidst the chaos, papa isagi grabs a bottle of his favourite sake to celebrate some more and your boyfriend— fiancé is put on dish duty once more.

before you part and after he’s carefully set you back on your feet, yoichi presses a pillow soft kiss to the backs of your fingers, mindful of the little cuts from the glass earlier, where your engagement ring will go — bright blue eyes sparkling with a promise. 

he’ll take care of you, from now on, for the rest of your lives.

it’s one such promise that you accept for a third time that night and get giddy over with his mother later as she disinfects and bandages up your surface wounds — talks of wedding venues and dresses and meals already flitting between the two of you.

and so, isagi proposes to you while you wash dishes together in his childhood home. you say yes, with his parents as witness to the first steps of your eternal commitment to one another.

the following week, he takes a trip to paris to play a friendly game and brings you along for a miniature vacation so that you can pick out an engagement ring at a private showing in a fancy cartier store. in the end, you both decide on something custom, because according to yoichi nothing they have is good enough for you. he wants you to have something entirely unique to you, that no one else has because no one else in the world will have you all to themselves like he has.

unfortunately, the a paparazzi manage to snag a photograph of your whopping, heavy ring while you shop and haggle for fridge magnets and decorative plates along street markets, of course for your soon-to-be in-laws back in japan. and although you’d wished you could keep the adorable tale of your proposal to yourselves as a memory confined to yoichi’s childhood home and kitchen… for just a little longer — you’re more than happy for the world to know he’s about to be yours for all of time.

since the two of you are entirely too excited to spend the rest of your lives by one another’s side.

RIGHTS RESERVED © LOSTWRLDS 2025. the content seen here belongs to me. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai, or recommend elsewhere.

[hey-itsdollie]

I have a request that I think would be funny (so it would be crack)

Reader X the BLLK boys who gets silly when overtired. Like they just start shit-posting on their story, giggling randomly, laughing over the most ridiculous shit, and they barley even remember it when they wake up

Any characters are fine but maybe w/ Raichi, Gagamaru, Zantetsu and Bachira? Other characters being in there is fine too!!

(Feel free to delete this is u don’t wanna do it)

Go To Bed...

This is going to be so silly omg

‧₊˚ ┊ In which your exhausted boyfriend is going nuts!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » raichi. gagamaru. zantetsu. bachira.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ crack/fluff, female reader, pet names (honey, sweetie, birdie)

── .✦ Jingo Raichi

You were sitting at your desk, taking a break from studying when your phone suddenly went off with notification after notification.

Curiosity getting the best of you, your hand reached for the device. Your eyes looked at your lockscreen, all the notifications coming from your boyfriend. Which was more shocking than anything.

"What the- he doesn't post normally?"

Instantly you went onto Instagram and checked his story. Your eyes widening at the sight of over thirty posts lined up for you to watch. "The hell is he doing?"

It was well over past 1am as you watched through the many videos your boyfriend posted to his story. Each video getting weirder as you clicked. One video was just a compilation of funny cat videos another being some heavily edited video of some kid falling with different sound effects.

Some really did make you laugh or snort at the sight. But you were more concerned that your boyfriend, Raichi. The man who couldn't stand a lot of people and a lot of things was posting this nonsense.

You went to message him through the app but noticed he hadn't posted anything in the past ten minutes and seemed to be offline.

Turning the device off with a simple shrug, you decided to go to bed for the night and just ask him about it the next day. Who knows perhaps one of his friends took his phone?

The next day whilst making breakfast you received a call from your one and only boyfriend. You gazed at the contact before answering, quickly placing the call on speaker as you needed to flip the pancakes.

"Hey honey" You greet softly waiting for his normal grumbled response. Your mind went back to last night as you thought of his random posts.

"Mornin'" he greeted after a few seconds, his voice deep and scratchy. You raised your eyebrow, "Have you been straining your voice?" Your question was met with silence before a loud yell.

"WHO THE FUCK POSTED THIS SHIT?!?!"

"Uhm if you're talking about on insta, then it would've been you?" You noted hearing a loud "huh" come from the other end. "I did not!" Raichi scoffed loudly, the phone crackling slightly.

In contrast to what Raichi might think, he did in fact post on his story the night before. He sat in his bed laughing his ass off whilst clicking post on anything and everything.

His roommates looking at his bunk in fear not used to hearing such crazy joy coming from the blonde.

── .✦ Gin Gagamaru

You and your boyfriend sat around the campfire, enjoying the cool night air of the mountains. In the trees surrounding the campsite you could see fireflies flying about.

You smiled roasting a marsh mellow seemingly in a peaceful state.

Gagamaru on the other hand... not so much. His cheeks were puffed out after he shoved a three marsh mellows into his mouth all at once. Of course you tried to advise him to not do that. But it's Gagamaru, you're still trying to get him to eat with utensils.

You slowly turned to your boyfriend as he started to laugh while chewing. With raised eyebrows you watched your boyfriend struggle to swallow his treat without choking.

"Gin?"

Gagamaru swallowed the food with a cough not taking a chance to stop laughing. He held his stomach as he bellowed with laughter, you were sure the woodland creatures would wake up due to him.

To say his actions didn't freak you out would be a lie. His eyes were wide open, his body leaning back on the log they sat on as he laughed harder than you have ever heard him laugh before.

"Uh Gin? What's so funny?" You asked laughing slightly as well, his laughter seemingly contagious.

After about ten more minutes of nonstop laughter the male got up and went into the tent, going to sleep in no time. You froze realizing he went to bed like it was nothing.

"Did he just leave me out here alone?!" You whisper yelled in shock.

As the sun began to peak in between the mountain scape, your eyes fluttered open. You rolled over slightly, expecting to meet the sleeping face of your two-tone haired boyfriend. But you were met with an empty sleeping bag.

Getting up you left the tent looking around for your missing man. "Gin?" you called looking around only to hear a huff to your right. Turning you saw a shirtless Gagamaru working out.

"Huh are you not sore from last night?" you questioned, thinking his body would hurt from how much he was laughing the night before.

"Did we do something last night?" Gagamaru looked up at you with clueless big eyes.

With a flustered look you turned away, "No! Nothing like that Gin!"

"Hm... well, no I'm not sore."

── .✦ Zantetsu Tsurugi

Zantetsu laid next to you in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you were scrolling through your phone.

His eyes darted around his mind thinking back to random memories and thoughts. You jumped suddenly as the male started laughing hysterically. You sat up turning to him as he laid on his back, glasses in one hand as the other was covering half his face, laughing uncontrollably.

"Zantetsu?" You questioned confused on what had him laughing so hard. Not even replying he continued to laugh, beginning to roll around slightly making you grin at the sight.

"What is making you laugh so hard?" You asked laughing softly at the sight of your boyfriend rolling around like a baby.

You knew Zantetsu wasn't the brightest light bulb in the box but you truly had no idea what was making him laugh so hard. "I- it.... HAHAHA"

You covered your mouth preventing yourself from laughing as he couldn't even get a single word out without laughing.

Zantetsu rolled over facing you wheezing. "Ah it hurts!" He laughed out moving into the fetus position making you feel bad. "Then stop laughing..." You scoffed chuckling.

The brunette got quiet for a second before erupting into laughter again making you sigh in return. It was going to be a long night.

As morning came you sat up with a groan, your head aching from last night. Turning you glared at your boyfriend, who in contrast to you was sleeping like a baby.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

By the time Zantetsu got up, a pillow was thrown at him. "What hey! What did I do?" he questioned holding the pillow you had just thrown.

"That was for keeping me up due to your endless laughing!"

The male just stared at you like you were crazy, confusion written all over his face.

"Laughing? What laughing?"

You stared at him blankly; there was no way he didn't remember last night. Hell, he was crying due to how much he was laughing!

"Nevermind..."

── .✦ Meguru Bachira

Bachira and you were laying on his bed, backs against the wall as you two went through snapchat filters.

After one too many big eyed filters the brunette had lost it.

His eyes were closed, tears dropping from his eyes as he laughed his ass off. You laughed as well, hunched over as Bachira would show you a new crazy photo of himself.

"Oh my god Birdie, look at this one!" He coughed out shakily showing you, his phone. The picture was blurry and you could barely see what was going on besides the shrek filter. "What the fuck Megs?" You laughed holding your stomach.

The male grinned failing to hold in his cackles as he went back to going through the filters. One picture he took made him officially lose it as he dropped his phone and rolled off the back sobbing and laughing.

He was practically screaming as he held his stomach and rolled around.

His scene was making you laugh harder as you watched him go crazy. "Oh my god, Meguru are you okay?" You giggle after seeing him roll off the bed.

Bachira held up a thumbs-up his arm shaking as he burst into another fit of laughter. You were shocked his mother didn't come into the room due to the literal screaming her son was doing at midnight.

The laughing fit got so bad to the point the two of you just ended up passing out. Bachira was sprawled out on the floor, his body twitching every few seconds as you were asleep on his bed, your breathing deep.

You woke up before Bachira, confused on what time it was. "When did we go to bed?" You muttered looking around rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

You heard a moan of pain and turned confusion written on your face as you crawled to the side of the bed. Looking down your eyes met pained ones, Bachira holding his head as he barely moved his body.

"How did I end up on the floor? Owie everything hurts..."

This was so cute to make... took some personal inspo for bachira's part from something that happened to me and my friend lmao

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[jkwrites-m]

Another Time (8)

Pairing: Jungkook x female reader

Genre: soulmates, past life, thriller, smut, fluff, angst

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: When Y/N and Jungkook begin sharing vivid dreams of each other, their connection feels too real to ignore. When tragedy from a past life begins bleeding into the present, they’re forced to unravel the mystery of love, betrayal, and fate.

Warnings: MDNI, Explicit, 18+ angst, cursing, name-calling, fighting, physical harm, verbal assault, physical assault, attempted sexual assault, main character death, murder, lying, gore, blood, knives, emotions 💔

A/N: it’s THE flashback so please read with caution guys⚠️. This is a heavy chapter so please pay attention to the warnings 🫶 -m

MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

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“Y/N?” His voice cracked like dry glass.

Her sobbing paused, not because she’d calmed, but because she’d heard him. Slowly, she pulled away from Jimin and turned her face toward Jungkook.

Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, but it wasn’t the crying that knocked the breath from Jungkook’s lungs. It was her eyes. The look in them.

Hatred.

It was sharp. Foreign. The kind of look you never forget, because it splits your soul in half.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping forward, reaching slightly. “Baby, what-”

“Don’t,” she snapped, her voice low and venom-laced. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Y/N... What’s going on?”

Her lips trembled, then curled with disgust. “You’re really gonna stand there and pretend like you don’t know?” Her voice raised sharply. “Do you think I’m that fucking stupid, Jungkook?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused, hurt flooding his voice. “I- I just got here- ”

“The coke,” she screamed, her voice raw. “The fucking cheating. The lies. All of it. I know everything now.”

Jungkook's heart slammed against his ribs. “What- what do you mean everything?”

She stepped toward him, each step like a storm surge building. “I saw the pictures. Jimin told me everything. You weren’t careful. You didn’t even try to hide it. All that time I spent trusting you… loving you since we were kids and this is what you do?”

Jungkook was already shaking his head. “No. No, no, no. That’s not true. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t- Y/N, I swear to God, I didn’t touch anyone.”

“Liar!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “You’re a fucking liar, Jungkook!”

He flinched, physically stepping back as if the words struck him.

Jimin stood now, positioning himself slightly between them. “You don’t deserve to stand here and act confused,” he spat. “You don’t deserve her.”

“You think I’m going to take this from you?” Jungkook barked back. “You’ve been jealous of us for years. This is what you’ve always fucking wanted!”

“I’m not the one who did lines in a hotel room with two half-naked girls while my fiancée was waiting at home!” Jimin snapped.

“That didn’t happen!” Jungkook shouted. “You're making this shit up! And you know it!”

“Enough!” Y/N screamed, hands over her ears like their voices were knives. “Just shut up! Both of you!”

The room fell into silence except for her sobs. Jungkook took a tentative step forward.

“Y/N,” he said, voice shaking. “You’ve known me since we were kids. You know I wouldn’t do this to you.”

“I don’t know who you are anymore,” she whispered, tears pooling again. “You’re not him. You’re not the boy I grew up with. You’re not the man I thought I’d marry.”

He fell to his knees.

It wasn’t performative- it was real, painful, raw. Jungkook’s hands reached toward her, palms up, begging. “Please. Please don’t believe him. You’re all I have. I love you.”

She shook her head violently, backing away from his hands like they were fire. “You threw that love away.”

“No- please,” he whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’m not that person. I swear. He twisted something, he- he framed me, Y/N. You have to believe me!”

“I don’t have to believe anything,” she snarled.

“I’ll go to rehab. I’ll cut everyone off. I’ll do anything, just- just don’t walk away from us.”

She stared at him in silence for several seconds. Then, without blinking:

“Get out.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. “Y/N...”

“I said get the fuck out!” she screamed.

He remained kneeling. “Please... just talk to me…”

“I hate you!” she roared. “I hate you for what you did to me!”

The words were a blade, and Jungkook felt every inch of it. He stayed frozen, his soul bleeding out in silence as Jimin stepped closer to her side.

“Don’t make me say it again,” she hissed.

Slowly, Jungkook stood. His knees popped under the strain of standing with a shattered heart. His shoulders slouched forward like the weight of two decades had just landed on his back. He looked at her one last time, hoping, praying, silently begging for a flicker of mercy.

None came.

He turned, and each step toward the door felt heavier than the last. The silence was deafening, and when the door clicked closed behind him, it sounded like a tomb sealing.

Outside, it had started to rain.

Jungkook stepped into it without hesitation, letting the cold drops mix with the salt of his tears. For the first time in years, the dreams that had always comforted him... were nowhere to be found.

═══════

Jungkook barely made it to the end of the driveway.

Rain soaked him instantly, slicking his hair to his forehead, his shirt clinging to his chest like a second skin. But none of it registered. He stood there, unmoving, staring at the gravel like it held the answers he didn’t have. His chest heaved, his heart crushed under the weight of her words.

I hate you.

They echoed like gunshots in his head.

But no matter how much it hurt, something deeper gnawed at his insides. A voice, quiet at first, then screaming. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

Y/N’s voice in his memory hadn’t just been angry. It had been afraid. Shaken.

And Jimin… the smugness in his face. The way he held her. The timing of it all.

No.

Jungkook turned on his heel.

He didn’t walk back. He ran.

His wet shoes slapped against the porch as he bolted through the door he hadn’t even bothered to lock behind him. Rainwater dripped down his face, fogging his vision, but the moment he stepped back into the house, all sound sharpened like glass breaking.

Yelling.

Not just raised voices. 

screaming.

His blood froze.

“Y/N?” he called, already sprinting toward the back of the house.

The bedroom door was half-shut, light flickering inside. The noises were clearer now, her voice high-pitched, panicked, desperate.

“Jungkook! Help! Please! Stop! Get off me!”

And then he heard her scream.

He didn’t hesitate.

He slammed through the door with his shoulder, the door banging against the wall so hard the handle embedded into the drywall. What he saw made his soul explode in rage.

Jimin was on top of her, pinning her wrists down with one hand, his other tugging at the hem of her shirt. Her legs kicked violently beneath him, her voice hoarse from screaming.

“GET OFF HER!” Jungkook roared.

Jimin barely had time to turn before Jungkook tackled him, launching himself like a missile. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Y/N scrambled back against the bedpost, chest heaving, face pale.

Jimin recovered fast. With a guttural snarl, he reared back and smashed his fist into Jungkook’s face.

Crack.

Jungkook's head whipped to the side. His lip split open.

Jimin didn’t stop- he punched again, and again, fists fueled by something darker than jealousy.

“You ruined everything!” Jimin screamed, spit flying.

Jungkook's body reeled with each blow, stars dancing in his vision.

Y/N screamed again, this time for him. “Stop! STOP!”

Her hand closed around the lamp on the nightstand, the heavy ceramic one Jungkook’s mother had given them. Without thinking, she swung.

CRACK.

The lamp exploded against Jimin’s skull, shards flying as he stumbled forward with a grunt, hands flying to the back of his head.

“You bitch- !” he hissed, staggering.

He turned, wild-eyed, and slammed his fist into Y/N’s cheek before she could move.

She hit the wall hard and dropped to the floor, her hand clutching her face.

“Y/N!” Jungkook tried to move, but his limbs were slow. Dizzy. The world tilted around him, blood dripping from his nose. His head throbbed where Jimin had hit him, the edges of his vision blurring.

Jimin moved to Y/N again, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her backward with a violent pull.

“No!” Jungkook surged up with what strength he had left, pulled back, and let his fist fly.

The punch connected hard, right into Jimin’s nose. The crunch was immediate.

Jimin howled in pain and reeled backward, hands flying to his face. Blood poured between his fingers.

“You piece of- ” he lunged, slamming into Jungkook and sending both of them crashing into the dresser. Jungkook’s back hit the corner hard, but worse, his head struck the mirror behind them with a sickening thud.

His knees buckled.

Everything spun.

Jungkook dropped to the floor, dazed and blinking through what felt like fog. He barely registered Jimin turning back to Y/N.

“No- no-” he slurred, trying to push himself up.

Y/N tried to crawl away, sobbing now, her cheek already swelling, blood staining her lip.

Jimin stood over her, nose crooked and eyes full of madness.

“You should’ve picked me,” he spat.

And then he punched her again.

This time, she went limp.

Jungkook’s vision tunneled in on her body, crumpled, unmoving.

“No...” he whispered, voice broken. “Y/N...”

The darkness crept closer.

═══════

The dim, flickering light from a lone bulb cast long, jagged shadows across the living room walls. The silence was thick, pierced only by the sound of slow, calculated footsteps and the rustle of rope.

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered.

Her head throbbed, her jaw ached, and something was digging into her wrists. She tried to move, but her body didn’t respond the way it should. Her legs were numb, her arms stiff. She blinked hard, tears spilling without permission as awareness crept back in like smoke.

She was tied.

Her arms were bound behind the back of a dining room chair, ropes cinched tight around her wrists and ankles. A strip of cloth gagged her mouth, cutting into the corners of her lips. Her breathing quickened into a muffled panic.

Across from her, Jungkook stirred.

He, too, was tied, his chair placed deliberately to face hers- their eyes met instantly. His lower lip was swollen, blood dried at the corner of his mouth. His left eye was beginning to purple. But what gutted her most was the way he looked at her: with helplessness, horror, and raw apology.

She sobbed behind her gag. He let out a low, strangled sound behind his.

Then a voice emerged from behind them, casual, almost annoyed.

“Oh, come on,” Jimin said, stepping into view between them, the kitchen light throwing his shadow across the room. “You two crying like that... it’s not going to help anything.”

His tone was light, matter-of-fact, like he was explaining weather conditions instead of orchestrating a kidnapping.

Jungkook growled low behind the cloth gag. Y/N flinched, her breathing jagged, head twitching in search of an escape that didn’t exist.

“I really didn’t want it to come to this,” Jimin said with a sigh, dragging a chair into the center of the room and spinning it around so he could sit on it backward, his arms resting on the backrest. “But people don’t listen, do they? Especially when they’re stubborn and selfish.”

He glanced at Y/N, his eyes softening in a sickening way. “I was hoping you’d come easily. After everything I showed you… after what you saw him do... I thought you’d run. I thought you’d come find me.”

She let out a muffled cry, shaking her head wildly.

“You were supposed to,” he whispered, almost hurt. “You were supposed to know. We’re the ones who are meant to be.”

He turned toward Jungkook, who was already straining at the ropes, muscles flexing with futile fury.

“You weren’t even supposed to be a problem,” Jimin said coldly. “Honestly, I thought it’d be easy. Jennie was all in. I didn’t even have to push her that hard. She thought you were hot and rich and probably bored. I told her you liked her, that you were only with Y/N out of pity. She believed it.” He laughed once. “People believe what they want to believe, huh?”

Jungkook's whole body shook from the effort to scream through the gag. His eyes burned with hatred.

Jimin ignored it.

“I thought Jennie would seduce you. I didn’t think you’d actually push her off. I underestimated you there. Maybe you’re not as much of a piece of shit as I thought.” His face twitched, then turned bitter. “Still a piece of shit, though.”

He stood and began pacing.

“I started small, you know? Just casual. Friendly. The guy at work who makes jokes. The one who laughs at your dumb stories. The one who buys the drinks and listens. All while keeping her safe.” He pointed at Y/N again. “Always keeping her safe.”

Y/N was sobbing now, trying to shake her head, trying to scream at him through the gag. He didn’t hear it or didn’t care.

“I brought coke to the bar once. Just a little. I knew you wouldn’t say no if you were drunk enough. And you didn’t. You tried it.” Jimin’s smile curled into something cruel. “That’s all I needed. Just one mistake. All I needed was one picture. Just in case I needed to show her what kind of man you are.”

Jungkook thrashed against the ropes, veins bulging in his neck.

“I built the whole thing,” Jimin continued, breathless now, lost in the fever of his own confession. “Every story. Every picture. Every whisper. Jennie was convinced you loved her. That you hated Y/N. That you were only waiting for the right moment. And when that didn’t work... I made it seem like Jennie was the one stalking you.”

He looked at Y/N again, tilting his head. “Remember the flowers on your porch? The notes? The phone calls? The car that got keyed outside the grocery store? “Mine” in the mirror? You thought it was her, didn’t you?”

She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“I did all of that,” he whispered. “Me. I watched you. I followed you home more nights than you’ll ever know. You always looked over your shoulder, but never far enough.”

Y/N shook with silent terror, fresh tears pouring.

“I wanted you scared. I wanted you to doubt him. And when you did... when you finally screamed at him and made him leave... I thought finally. I thought you’d see that I was always there.”

He knelt beside her chair now, his face inches from hers, the smile gone. What was left was hunger.

“I’ve loved you since the moment you smiled at me in sophomore year. You don’t remember it. But I do.”

Her whole body recoiled.

“I’ve waited. Years. I’ve been patient. But you never saw me. It was always him.” His voice was now trembling, with frustration or rage or both. “And I’m done waiting.”

Jungkook’s chair tipped from how hard he lunged forward, his muffled scream furious. But the ropes were tight, expertly knotted.

Jimin stood again, his expression composed now, almost serene. “This didn’t have to be violent. I wanted you to choose me. But you’re not thinking straight right now.” He gestured between them. “That’s okay. We’ll just take some time. Together. And once it’s just us, and he’s gone, you’ll see.”

Y/N let out a moan of pure despair, her body wracking with sobs.

Jimin’s smile twitched.

“I’m going to make us tea. When I come back, we’re going to talk. All three of us. Properly.”

And with that, he turned and walked back toward the kitchen, humming to himself, the sound of a kettle being filled breaking the silence.

Jungkook and Y/N were alone again, chairs facing each other, eyes locked. Both gagged. Both bound. But something electric passed between them.

Desperation.

Love.

Survival.

And rage.

═══════

Jimin returned from the kitchen with no tea in hand. Only a hunting knife.

The blade gleamed under the low living room light, clean, curved, clinical, as if it didn’t belong in the hands of someone who once called himself a friend. But now, nothing felt unfamiliar. Not the madness in his eyes. Not the way he walked with purpose. Not the silence stretching between each step.

He crouched beside Y/N first.

She flinched when his fingers touched her gag.

“Shh,” he cooed. “I want to hear your voice. Don’t scream. It ruins the moment.”

With agonizing slowness, he untied the cloth from behind her head and pulled it free. Her jaw quivered, her lips trembling from the dried blood that had crusted at the corner.

“P-Please…” she rasped.

Jimin’s eyes glinted as if her fear was music. Then he turned to Jungkook, his movements sharper, colder. He yanked the gag from Jungkook’s mouth like tearing tape from skin.

Jungkook immediately spat blood toward his shoes.

“You piece of shit,” he growled, voice hoarse, throat raw. “Let her go. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Jimin laughed.

Loudly.

It echoed through the room like something unhinged. He backed away, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Oh no. Jungkookie’s mad,” he taunted, tilting his head. “You’re gonna kill me? While tied to a chair?”

Jungkook lunged forward, straining against the ropes. They didn’t budge.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” Jimin sneered. “Cry again? Beg some more? Punch me with your words?”

Y/N’s voice cut through the madness- trembling, quiet. “Please… Jimin. You don’t have to do this. We won’t tell anyone. Just let us go. Please.”

Her eyes shimmered, brimming with both terror and humanity.

But Jimin’s gaze didn’t soften. “It’s too late for that.”

Jungkook turned to her, eyes locking with hers in the dim light.

And suddenly, the rage fell away.

What was left was love.

Unbreakable. Radiant. Honest.

His breathing slowed. His voice lowered.

“Y/N…” he whispered.

She turned to him instantly, her eyes wide, drowning in sorrow.

“I don’t know if we’re going to get out of this,” he said. “But I can’t let you go without saying everything.”

Jimin rolled his eyes and muttered, “Oh great, here comes the Romeo monologue.”

Jungkook didn’t stop.

“You shaped who I am,” Jungkook said. “From the moment I met you, I became someone. You are my air. My purpose. Every breath I’ve ever taken that mattered, it was because of you.”

Y/N sobbed, the sound nearly silent.

“I was an idiot,” Jungkook continued, voice unraveling. “I lied about things I thought didn’t matter. I was stupid. I should’ve told you everything, every mistake, every scar. But what I never did- what I never could do- is cheat on you. I would never disrespect you. Never hurt you. You’re my best friend. My everything.”

Jimin began to pace, his smirk faltering.

“You’re my best friend, Y/N. My soul. My constant. I’d burn the world to the ground before I ever hurt you. And I’m so sorry for ever making you doubt it.”

He started crying — real tears, hot and raw, dripping from his bruised face.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you so much it scares me. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want a life with you.”

“I love you too,” Y/N whispered through her sobs. “You’re my whole world, Jungkook. I believe you. I forgive you. I choose you.”

They looked at each other like the world had narrowed to just them- the ropes, the fear, the madness- all falling away.

Jimin stood still, silent, something unreadable in his eyes.

And then, his expression shattered.

“You’re better than him,” he barked at Y/N. “You know you are. Look at you. Look at what he’s done! And you're still- still choosing him?”

Y/N nodded, slowly, eyes fierce despite the tears.

“Yeah,” she said. “I choose him.”

“Me or him?” Jimin screamed, his voice shaking the walls.

“Jungkook.” She didn’t blink.

Jimin’s hand lashed out.

The slap landed so hard Y/N’s face jerked sideways and her lip split. Jungkook roared from his chair, thrashing until it tipped sideways and he crashed to the floor.

“You dumb cunt,” Jimin snarled, inches from her face now. “You don’t know what you had in front of you. You’re a tease. A bitch. You’ve always been one.”

Y/N whimpered, turning her face away, but he followed.

“He drags you down. He makes you less. And you’re too stupid to see it.”

“Go to hell,” she hissed.

“You ruined your life,” Jimin spat. “And it’s your fault. You could’ve had something better. You could’ve had me.”

Y/N turned her face back to him. Not with fear, but with rage.

“Fuck you,” she said. “I will only ever love Jungkook.”

And that was the end.

Jimin stepped back.

Something inside him broke.

His eyes emptied out.

“Well then,” he said softly, “if I can’t have you��”

He raised the knife.

“…then no one can.”

“No!” Jungkook screamed from the floor, but it was too late.

Jimin lunged forward and plunged the blade into Y/N’s abdomen.

She screamed, a gut-wrenching, primal scream that filled the room and shattered the air.

Blood soaked her shirt immediately.

“No- NO!” Jungkook was screaming, crying, voice tearing from his throat.

Y/N gasped, her body trembling violently.

Jimin pulled the knife out and stabbed again.

Then again.

Three times.

She slumped forward, her breath catching in shallow, broken sobs.

Jimin stepped back, panting, covered in her blood, eyes wild with something feral and irreversible.

Jungkook was screaming incoherently now, trying to push himself upright, his arms and legs still bound, his voice a mix of horror and helplessness.

Y/N whimpered.

Then lifted her head, barely.

Her eyes found him.

And she smiled.

Even as the blood ran from her lips.

“Jungkook…” she whispered, the words a wisp of breath, “My favorite person…”

He stopped struggling just to hear her.

Her voice was shaking, thin, but laced with love.

“We’ve been glued together since we were kids… swapping secrets, racing through the neighborhood, falling in love under those big oak trees…”

Tears streamed down Jungkook’s cheeks, his face twisted in agony.

“You’ve been my best friend… my partner in every silly adventure… my everything…”

“Y/N, please…” he sobbed. “Hold on. Please, just hold on…”

“I want you to know…” she gasped, blood dribbling from her lips, “my heart’s still beating just for you… wild and full…”

She smiled, barely.

“I promise to love you with every bit of me… forever…”

“Don’t go,” Jungkook whispered, his voice crumbling. “Don’t leave me. I need you…”

“We won’t get our big wedding day…” she said slowly, “but we’ve already built a life full of love… and that’s what matters…”

Her head was beginning to slump.

Jimin stood off to the side, motionless.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered, but she forced them open.

“We’ll find each other again,” she whispered. “I know it…”

Jungkook was sobbing now, tied down, destroyed.

“Look at me…” she said, barely audible.

Her breath hitched one last time.

“I’m yours… always…”

She closed her eyes.

“…and I can’t wait to see you again… just past the horizon.”

Silence.

Her body went still.

And Y/N-  Y/N was gone.

═══════

Jungkook’s scream cracked the ceiling.

It wasn’t a sound of rage or defiance, it was the sound of something breaking. A soul splintering. A life unraveling. He shook against his restraints, blood and tears running together as he stared at the woman across from him- the woman who had been everything.

The woman who was now gone.

Y/N’s body slumped motionless in the chair, blood spreading in a slow, blooming pool beneath her. Her eyes were closed, lips parted as if still caught mid-whisper. That last promise, those final words — they echoed through his mind on loop.

“I’m yours… always…”

“NO!” he roared, his voice hoarse, tearing from his throat until it was raw. “NO, PLEASE!”

His chest rose and fell violently. He was gasping, coughing, sobbing all at once. Snot and blood dripped from his mouth. He didn’t care.

“She’s dead…” he whispered. “Oh my God. She’s dead…”

He dropped his head forward, forehead pressing into the rope that bound him. He wanted to be anywhere but here. He wanted to claw his way into the floor and disappear forever.

Behind him, Jimin stood frozen.

Knife still in hand. Blood spattered across his shirt and neck. His breath came in quick, shallow bursts. Something inside him flickered. Not triumph. Not relief. Just… silence.

“I…” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean…”

His gaze flicked to Y/N’s lifeless body. The knife clattered to the floor with a metallic clink as his hands trembled.

“I loved her,” he whispered.

But there was no answer. No one to comfort him. No delusion left to protect his mind from what he’d done.

He lunged forward again, not toward Y/N this time, but toward Jungkook.

Jungkook barely moved.

He didn’t fight. Didn’t flinch.

Jimin’s fist crashed into his jaw. Then again. And again.

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Jimin bellowed. “She was mine! YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!”

Jungkook’s head whipped to the side with each punch. Blood painted his lips anew. His chair wobbled from the force but didn’t fall.

Still, he didn’t react. He just stared at her.

Jimin let out a roar of frustration, his fists falling limp at his sides. “Say something!” he screamed.

But Jungkook had nothing left for him.

Only her.

“My beautiful Y/N…” he whispered through swollen lips.

His voice was hollow, but full of love. Of memory. Of pain.

“We were just kids when we fell in love, racing through the backyard, whispering dreams under the stars…”

Tears slid down his cheeks like rivers carved through stone.

“…stealing kisses that felt like forever.”

Jimin stood still now, frozen by the sheer weight of Jungkook’s grief.

“You were my best friend, my partner in every wild moment… my whole world.”

Jungkook’s body trembled, wracked with sobs, but his voice stayed soft.

“You slipped away before I could say these vows… and now, with my own time running short… I’m holding you close in my heart… speaking the words I wish I’d said…”

The room fell quiet. Jimin’s breathing had slowed.

Jungkook continued, every word cracking him open wider.

“I promise to love you with every breath I have left. We didn’t get our wedding, but every giggle, every glance, every quiet second we shared was our promise. Our always.”

His gaze never left her.

“I carry you in the breeze… in our favorite songs… in the way the sunlight feels like your smile.”

His lips trembled, blood running over the edges.

“I’m not scared… because I know I’ll see you soon.”

A weak smile crossed his face, more painful than peaceful.

“I can almost hear you laughing, waiting for me… just beyond the stars.”

He inhaled deeply, raggedly.

“Save me a spot, my love…”

His eyes fluttered halfway shut as his head bowed.

“I’m coming to you, ready to hold you again.”

Jimin stood like a ghost in the room.

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t speak again.

He walked out.

Just walked out.

Leaving Jungkook bound, broken, but not beaten because even in grief, even in death, love had spoken louder than madness.

═══════

The silence in the room was thick and suffocating.

Jungkook sat motionless in the chair for hours, his wrists raw from struggling, his face caked in dried blood and tears. His eyes had not left Y/N’s body. Not once. He had barely blinked. Her form remained bathed in dim, amber light- her hair matted with blood, her shirt soaked with it. But still, to Jungkook, she looked like the girl who used to draw stars in the dirt with him under their childhood oak trees. The girl who hummed when she braided her hair. The girl who kissed him like he held the universe in his mouth.

The door creaked.

Then-

Clap.Clap.Clap.

Jimin strolled back in slowly, a slow sarcastic applause echoing across the hardwood floor.

“Well…” he said, dragging out the word like a theater critic. “What a performance. That little monologue?” He chuckled. “You almost had me crying.”

Jungkook didn’t move.

Jimin walked a slow circle around the room, then stopped beside Jungkook and crouched down.

“But you know what the problem is?” he said, tapping the side of his head. “I see through you. Always have. You’re not some tragic lover. You’re not this noble, broken hero. You’re a fucking narcissist.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away from Y/N.

“You think you loved her?” Jimin spat. “You couldn’t even respect her enough to be honest. You let Jennie throw herself at you  and you didn’t stop it. You let her touch you. She told me everything.”

Jungkook closed his eyes briefly, the memory stabbing at him like broken glass.

“I didn’t…” he muttered. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t have to!” Jimin shouted, rising to his feet. “You liked it. You liked the attention. The flirting. The ego trip. You wanted to keep both of them orbiting around you like some fucked-up little sun.”

Still, Jungkook didn’t bite.

He only whispered again, lips barely moving:

“I love her.”

Jimin’s face twisted. “You don’t know what love is.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally lifted- slowly, painfully- and fixed on Jimin with a hollow kind of defiance.

“I do,” he said, blood running from the corner of his mouth. “It’s her. It’s always been her.”

Jimin snarled, spinning on his heel and pacing.

“Then why’d you cave so easily, huh?” he said. “One drink, and boom- coke up your nose. Y/N asked you to distance yourself from Jennie, and you didn’t even try.”

Jungkook said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Because Jimin wasn’t done.

“You were supposed to be her protector. Her home. And instead you fed your own ego every damn time. You let her wonder. Let her ache. And the moment things got complicated, what did you do?” Jimin gestured wildly. “You buried the truth.”

“She still loved me,” Jungkook whispered.

“She shouldn’t have!” Jimin roared.

Silence again. Heavy. Grating.

Jungkook’s head sagged forward, his voice almost inaudible:

“I love her.”

“You’re a liar,” Jimin spat. “You’re just afraid to be alone. You loved how she loved you. That’s all it was.”

“I love her,” Jungkook repeated.

Jimin kicked the side of his chair hard enough to rattle Jungkook’s whole body. He didn’t flinch.

“You didn’t deserve her!” Jimin screamed, his voice cracking. “She was mine. She just didn’t know it yet. I could’ve given her a life without pain. Without you.”

Jungkook slowly lifted his gaze again, his face battered, his eyes bloodshot and met Jimin’s stare.

“You never knew her,” he said, voice shaking. “She would’ve never loved you.”

Jimin looked stunned for a second, and behind that, something unhinged simmered. He turned and faced Y/N’s body, silent now.

“I knew her better than you ever did,” he muttered. “She just never gave me the chance.”

Jungkook shook his head weakly.

“She gave her heart. To me. You can kill us both. But that truth doesn’t change.”

Jimin stood still.

He didn’t scream again. He didn’t speak.

He just stared into the silence, drowning in it, as the man he hated whispered love like a prayer to the girl he couldn’t have.

═══════

Jimin was silent.

Too silent.

He stared at Y/N’s lifeless body, her blood staining the wooden floor like spilled ink. His hands trembled. His jaw clenched. His eyes shimmered with something broken and wild, not sadness anymore, but fury boiling under the weight of guilt.

Without warning, he turned and punched Jungkook hard in the face.

Jungkook’s head snapped back, pain exploding in his cheekbone. The chair creaked beneath him, groaning under the force. Blood splattered from his lip.

“You smug bastard,” Jimin snarled. “Sitting there… whispering love like it means something now.”

He stormed toward the knife, still glinting under the faint overhead light, resting in the pool of Y/N’s blood.

He picked it up.

It was still wet.

The red clung to the blade like it belonged there.

Jimin stared at it for a moment, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. His breath came in ragged pulls. The moment froze, the grief trying to claw its way through his fury.

And then he snapped.

He turned back to Jungkook with the blade trembling in his grip, raised it and slashed.

The tip of the knife cut a jagged line across Jungkook’s cheek.

“AH- !” Jungkook screamed through clenched teeth, blood instantly blooming from the wound.

Jimin’s face twisted. “You feel that? That’s what it’s like to be alive. Something you clearly forgot.”

Jungkook gasped, his chest rising and falling, the cut burning like fire, blood dripping down his neck. He didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. He just stared back, defiant and delirious, whispering:

“I love her.”

Jimin growled, enraged.

He plunged the knife down again- not into his chest, not anywhere fatal but deep into Jungkook’s thigh.

Jungkook screamed.

His entire body seized, the pain blooming like a lightning strike. Blood gushed from the stab, soaking his jeans instantly.

“Let’s see how much love you have left,” Jimin hissed.

He stabbed him again in the other thigh.

Then his side, narrowly avoiding any organs but ensuring agony.

Jungkook screamed again, the rope tearing into his wrists as he jerked violently.

Jimin stepped back, chest heaving.

Jungkook sagged in the chair, his head lolling forward, blood dripping from every angle now. His skin was pale. His shirt was soaked.

But his lips still moved.

“Y/N…”

Jimin lost it.

He kicked Jungkook’s chair.

Once.

Twice.

Then again- until the chair tipped, slamming sideways onto the floor with a loud crack. Jungkook’s head hit the ground hard, a gasp of pain escaping him.

“You think you're a fucking hero?!” Jimin shouted, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “You think you’re the victim?”

He dragged Jungkook by the ropes, yanking the chair backward like dead weight.

Jungkook groaned in pain, his body a storm of fire and bruises.

Jimin pulled him into the kitchen, his boots slipping on the blood trailing behind.

The kitchen was colder. Sterile. The tile unforgiving beneath the chair’s legs.

Jimin let go of him and kicked him again, the blow landing in Jungkook’s ribs.

Jungkook coughed- a wet, rattling sound.

The knife was still in Jimin’s hand.

And now, the space between them had narrowed to a breath.

“After everything,” Jimin hissed, leaning down, his face inches from Jungkook’s bloodied one. “She still loved you.”

Jungkook’s eye, the one that wasn’t swollen shut, looked up at him.

And despite everything… he smiled.

“She’ll love me in the next life, too.”

Jimin screamed.

Jimin screamed- a sound of pure madness, not human anymore.

He hurled the knife across the room. It clattered against the wall and dropped into the sink with a metallic crash. His hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. For a moment, he stood there, panting, jaw clenched, eyes wild and twitching.

Jungkook lay on the kitchen floor, tied to the fallen chair, barely conscious. His legs were soaked in blood. His face was a mangled palette of bruises and cuts. But through the swelling, he still wore that look- that small, broken, bleeding smile. The kind that said: You failed.

And that broke Jimin further.

“You think that makes you better than me?” he seethed, stepping toward him again. “You think that little smirk makes you her knight in shining fucking armor?”

Jungkook groaned but didn’t respond.

“I was always there,” Jimin hissed, crouching low. “I saw her when you didn’t. I listened when you didn’t care. I watched her fall apart over you. Every tear, every moment you ignored her, dismissed her, made her question herself- I was there.”

He reached down and gripped Jungkook’s hair, yanking his head up so they were eye to eye.

“And she still chose you.”

He slammed Jungkook’s head against the tiled floor.

Jungkook let out a strangled gasp.

Again.

Another slam.

Blood smeared across the tile now, a glistening red halo spreading beneath him.

“Say something!” Jimin roared, shaking him.

Jungkook’s mouth opened, barely.

And then:

“I love her.”

The words were hoarse, cracked, nearly inaudible but they were real. Soft as a prayer. Stronger than the pain.

Jimin roared and stood up. He began pacing, hands clawing through his hair, breath wheezing.

“You think love means this?!” he screamed, spinning toward the body in the chair across the room- Y/N, lifeless and stained with the blood that had once tied the three of them together. “You call that love?”

Jungkook’s eye fluttered, his head rolling slightly as he tried to lift it, just to see her again.

Jimin saw it.

And he snapped again.

He kicked Jungkook’s ribs- hard.

Crack.

Jungkook screamed.

He couldn’t tell if it was pain or grief anymore.

Jimin dragged the chair fully upright and then, with brute force, threw it forward, sending Jungkook crashing against the side of the refrigerator. The metal dented. Jungkook crumpled to the ground again, chair legs splintering beneath the impact.

Blood pooled beneath him now.

But his lips were still moving.

“Y/N… I love you…”

“STOP SAYING THAT!” Jimin screamed.

He ran to the sink, pulled out the knife, and came back, standing over Jungkook, blade trembling in his grip.

“You don’t get to love her anymore,” he said, voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t get to say her name. Not after you wasted it.”

Jungkook coughed blood and barely looked up, but when he did, Jimin froze.

That look again.

That calm defiance.

That knowledge that even if Jimin killed him, he had lost the one thing he wanted most.

“She’s still mine,” Jungkook croaked.

Jimin dropped to his knees, raising the knife again with a wild, shaking hand.

And this time, there was no threat.

There was intent.

═══════

The kitchen lights flickered slightly overhead, casting harsh yellow tones on the glossy red smears staining the floor. Jungkook lay slumped against the refrigerator, his head lolling forward, blood dripping steadily from his mouth. The broken chair beneath him creaked with every twitch of his broken body. The knife had already kissed his skin too many times. His clothes clung to him like wet bandages, saturated with his own blood.

Jimin stood over him, panting, shirtless now. His face looked hest heaving, skin painted with Y/N’s and Jungkook’s blood. The knife trembled in his grip, the handle slippery with sweat.

“You’re pathetic,” Jimin said, pacing again. “Bleeding out for a girl who saw you as some fucking golden boy. You didn’t even deserve her.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. His lips trembled as they tried to form her name again.

“You really think you’re dying for love?” Jimin scoffed. “You’re dying because you were weak. You let yourself be seen as perfect and she believed you.”

Jungkook coughed again- a rattling, wet sound. Blood dribbled from his chin and painted the tile beneath him. He leaned against the fridge, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Then he turned his head,slowly, and caught sight of the wall clock.

1:15 AM.

It etched itself into his mind.

That time.

That moment.

The hour he realized the world had ended.

He closed his eyes.

“I don’t want to live without her,” he rasped.

Jimin paused.

Jungkook raised his head again, meeting his eyes- bloodied, exhausted, but clear.

“Just kill me,” he begged. “Please.”

Jimin stared at him.

There was silence for a beat, long and heavy. The weight of death hovered between them.

But Jimin didn’t lift the knife.

Instead, he grinned.

“Kill you?” he echoed. “No.”

Jungkook’s head dropped. His shoulders sagged, despair crashing over him like a wave.

“You don’t get to die next to her,” Jimin growled, stepping closer.

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly.

“You’re not even going to have the privilege,” Jimin hissed, “of dying in the same room as her.”

He leaned in close, mouth near Jungkook’s ear.

“She’s in there,” he whispered, “waiting for someone who deserved her. Not a junkie liar who couldn’t even tell her the truth.”

Jungkook’s whole body shook with pain and anguish, his tears hot as they ran down his bruised skin.

“I loved her,” he gasped. “I still do…”

Jimin straightened again, disgust warping his face.

“She died thinking you were garbage. And now, so will you.”

He grabbed the ropes still knotted around Jungkook’s torso, yanked hard, and began dragging him across the slick floor.

Jungkook groaned,  the wounds in his thighs tearing open again. His side screamed in agony. Blood streaked behind him like a trail of a dying animal.

Jimin dragged him through the hallway, past the living room, past the motionless silhouette of Y/N still strapped to her chair.

Jungkook didn’t even have the strength to reach for her.

He just whispered, as he passed:

“I’m sorry… I love you…”

Jimin pulled him into the guest room at the end of the hallway- cold, dark, impersonal. No trace of memory lived there. No laughter. No love.

Only silence.

Jimin let go of him with a grunt and stepped back. Jungkook collapsed in a tangled heap, head slamming against the floor with a dull thud.

“Die here,” Jimin muttered.

Jungkook rolled onto his back, groaning, blood soaking through every fiber of his clothes.

His eyes found the ceiling.

His lips moved again.

“Y/N… I’m sorry… wait for me…”

Jimin’s eyes twitched.

He raised the knife.

“Go to hell.”

And then he plunged the blade straight into Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook gasped, hard, as the steel pierced directly into his heart.

His entire body arched violently once then dropped flat.

His mouth opened.

And for a moment, no sound came out.

Then:

A whisper.

One final breath.

“I love you…”

The blood poured from his chest in waves now — hot and fast and final.

Jimin backed away, panting, watching the life drain from his body.

The color began to fade from Jungkook’s lips. His hand twitched, then went still.

His eyes blinked once… then stopped.

The clock in the hallway read:

1:27 AM.

Twelve minutes since he asked to die.

Twelve minutes since he last saw her.

Jungkook Jeon- the boy who once kissed Y/N under oak trees, who made her laugh, who whispered dreams into her skin- was gone.

And in the end, all that remained was silence.

═══════

Silence.

Stillness.

Then-

I gasped.

My eyes flew open and I sat up fast, lungs seizing like I’d just been pulled from the bottom of the ocean. My chest was heaving. My skin drenched. My heart was racing so violently it felt like it would break through my ribs.

I looked around, wild, confused.

Not a kitchen. Not blood-soaked tile. Not ropes cutting into my wrists or the taste of iron in my mouth.

My room.

Our room.

Moonlight washed across the walls. The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead. The air was cold but it wasn’t because I was dying.

I wasn’t dying.

The clock on the nightstand read 1:27 AM.

And then I felt it.

Warmth. Soft and close.

I turned my head.

She was there.

Y/N was sleeping right beside me,  tucked into the blankets, her face half-hidden in the pillow, lashes fanned across her cheeks. One hand rested near her mouth. She was breathing slow, steady.

Alive.

My entire body broke at once.

A sob clawed its way out of me before I could stop it. I buried my face in my hands, shaking, the tears falling fast and hot. My fingers dug into my scalp like I was trying to peel away the nightmare still clinging to me.

But this wasn’t a nightmare anymore.

This was real.

She was real.

I reached for her before I even realized I was moving. My hand slid across her waist gently, afraid to wake her but needing to feel her- needing to know. Her skin was warm. She shifted slightly under my touch, murmuring something soft in her sleep.

I let out a broken breath and kissed her forehead.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “God… I love you so much.”

She didn’t stir.

She didn’t need to.

She was here. And that was everything.

I lay back down beside her, my arm draped around her, holding her close. My heart was still a thunderstorm. Sleep was impossible now. Not after what I saw. What I felt.

It wasn’t just a dream.

I kept my eyes on her face, on her soft breathing, and whispered again, like a prayer:

“I’m yours. Always.”

═══════

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MASTERPOST ♡ MASTERLIST

♡ requests are welcome ♡

These characters are fictional and do not represent any real-life individuals. Their likeness is used solely for visual inspiration and does not reflect the actual person or their story.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I know I Promise I Will Come Back is going to get very little attention with all the big shows airing right now, but this is such a charming little show.

You get a 37-year-old actor playing the lead (though the character is younger).

TK is also the screenwriter/director (along with Shinedan, who plays a side character), and you can feel the love he's put into this project. He even named his character after himself.

You get the Hsia twins, for anyone who adored them in History: MODC like I did. So far we've just had Hsia En, but he's doing a fantastic job as Victor.

And TK clearly knows, if you get the Hsia twins, you're gonna show off the Hsia twins, as we get almost 2 full minutes of Victor showering in the latest episode. It was hilarious.

The conversations between them are both realistic and funny, as they navigate Victor's basic Thai, and their limited English.

The chemistry is solid. They have similar senses of humor off the bat, and you can really sense their growing feelings for each other as they spend time connecting and playing.

I think Victor might get the award for most injuries to your love interest in a 24-hour period? But his horror at doing so was perfectly captured.

And yes, there's clearly going to be angst later in this series, but there's so many more layers to it than that. It's genuinely funny, with lots of sweet little moments.

But the best part - TK's goal in making this is to promote tourism in his hometown province of Phrae, Thailand.

As someone who adores learning about history, culture, and travel, I really loved watching TK and Victor wandering around these historical and cultural sights. This was clearly made with intention and care.

I already know there will be posts popping up in the tags of the "this has no plot" variety, but as always - it does. It's just not in any rush, and has a lot to show us along the way.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Thought you might appreciate this thought:

Steven and f!reader: She is participating in the trend of wearing bows in her hair. She comes home from work and catches Steven getting off and he immediately blushes and stammers and freaks out when she catches him. But she thinks it’s hot and cute and she uses her bows to tie his wrists to the chair and ride him which completely fries his brain 🙂‍↕️🤭

Btw I love your writingggg especially when you write OI Characters as submissive pathetic meow meows

Heeheeheeheee! (Also thank you! You're too kind!)

Take My Sin

Steven Grant x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals • Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Summary: Steven gets tied up.

Warnings: Kissing, pet names, swearing, a bit of bondage, p in v sex, cream pie, not beta read, please let me know if I've missed a warning.

Word Count: 834

“Did you think you could get away with it?” You tease, unable to keep the grin out of your voice as you whisper in his ear. 

Steven groans, eyes closed. His eyebrows pinched together as you ride him, your thighs slamming into his again and again. He nods, swallowing and not completely trusting his own voice. “I… I did.” He shivers, his back arching off of his desk chair. 

His jeans and boxers are around his ankles, his short sleeved shirt on the floor and t-shirt pushed up to his neck. It only stays there from the pressure of your left forearm against his chest as you hold his jaw and his own arms.

His wrists are bound together in front of him, angled up so that they press against his shoulder. They are held together by one of the bows from your hair. You twisted the ribbon around him tightly, pinning him in place before you took hold of the material, wrapping it around your own fingers to stop it from loosening. 

He’d waited until he knew you were about to come home, teasing himself with the thrill of it before finally sitting at his desk and opening his laptop. 

Usually he just watched porn, if he was watching it alone, on his phone. A quick rush job to get off. But he took his time with this. Set up the screen so there was no way you couldn’t see it when you came through the door. Turned up the volume so there was absolutely nothing you could confuse it for. 

He then positioned a box of tissues on the desk, it was almost comedic how perfectly placed it was. Before he undid his jeans, pushed them and his boxers down his legs and got comfy on his chair. 

Steven had taken a while to peruse through a few videos, ending up going back to some well loved favourites before he even squirted a few globules of lube on his palm and took himself in his hand. 

He was slow with it. Taking his time, just riling himself up. Savouring the long, slow glide of his hand as he cock came to life. 

The sound of your keys in the door, however, made his dick jump fully to attention. He’d been looking forward to this all day. Practically shivering with anticipation. When you’d first told him about this little fantasy of yours, he’d become so excited that he’d fucked your brains out on the sofa. Now it was your turn to fuck his brains out. 

“So, so naughty Steven.” You purr as you fuck him harder, bouncing on his cock and grinding against the thick patch of curls between his legs so that it rubs deliciously against your clit. Sending sparks of pleasure along your skin. 

You’d stripped quickly when you’d come in, throwing your clothing to the floor and spinning his chair around. Taking a perverse joy in the pretend look of shock that bloomed across Steven’s face. 

“I, I, I am.” He groans, so sweetly. Breathing hard. “Just can’t help myself.” He blinks hard, his eyelids fluttering. 

“Couldn’t even wait until I got home.” You sink your teeth lightly into the lobe of his ear. His hips buck up instantly, jolting at the touch and moaning loudly. 

His fingers tense, the urge to wriggle free so he can hold you close building dizzyingly quickly. “I… couldn’t…” He pants. “You’re gonna have to keep me tied up all the time, always, because otherwise I’m gonna… keep… fuck!” His hips buck up rapidly, his muscles tensing. “Please love, please, need you to come, need to feel you squeeze me.” 

You bite your lip, pressing your forehead to his. “How badly?” Your voice comes out in a broken whine. You’re so close, just teetering on the edge of bliss. 

“So badly!” He kisses you roughly, all tongue and teeth as his thighs shake. “You’re gonna make me come!” 

You whimper, pressing as close to him as you can, needing to feel his body against yours. You let go of the ribbon so you can quickly move your hand down and rub your clit rapidly as you lick into his mouth. You barely circle it twice before your orgasm hits you. It’s hard and sharp, making your muscles squeeze and pulse as you ride wave after wave of pleasure.

Steven moans, swearing under his breath as your walls flutter over his cock, sucking him deeper and milking him for all his worth. 

Your release coats his skin, soaking him as he tenses. Stars explode behind his eyes as he comes, spurting inside with a long, drawn out whine. 

You shake against him, moving weakly as you breathe hard and recover. You smile, kissing his cheek slowly. He nuzzles back into your neck, shuddering softly. 

“Was that alright, love?” 

“So good.” You mutter, weak and dreamy. 

He smiles and then giggles as you lean back and litter his face with quick kisses before undoing his hands. 

Thank you for reading!

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If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Unscripted Undefeated Bracket — Round 5−1

Trish Una (Riley Hopkins and Their Amazing Friends: Interstitial Infinity):

vote for trish una, girl who went to another universe, found out she was fictional / a tertiary character at best in her own story, and decided the proper coping method was to punch a guy to shreds

vote for trish una, girl who looked at carrie from the movie carrie and said "i could fix her"

vote for trish una, girl who fought a bear and won

vote for trish una, girl who put a part of herself into a machine in an attempt to control it and inextricably(?) linked the machine to her soul

vote for trish una, girl who might be the devil

Mod Note: This is only the Trish Una from the podcast Riley Hopkins And Their Amazing Friends. Do not vote on the basis of any other Trish Una.

Spanks Sinatra (Tidal Wave Games Podcast: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY...)

He/him lesbian drag king Frank Sinatra impersonator

Vote for my sad messed up drag king

Spanks is a he/him lesbian. come on. look at him

Anyway if it's rope/cable play you're into, Spanks has a move for that

Art of Trish Una courtesy of @charaznablescanontoyota.

Art of Spanks Sinatra by @violetfoxsketches.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Trish Una (Riley Hopkins and Their Amazing Friends: Interstitial Infinity):

Trish Una, from the universe of Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, ensures that the hits start coming and they don't stop coming. Trush Ina, from JJBA, fights Rachel from Animorphs and wins. T. Una Sandwich, from Jimmy John's Brash Accumulation, is best friends with Shadow the Hedgehog and she's also my dad. T-Minus Uno, from Chipotle,

She is emotionally compromised and definitely not turning into her father

Trish "is it stands" Una is the type of motherfuckers you need to see to be believed. Trish & Carrie toxic Yuri. Trish the fucking Spirit of justice. Trish is the real one.

Please vote for my close friend Trish Una or else you leave without saying goodbye to her

TRISH "THE MONEY" UNA

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

#is that fucking shadow the hedgehog

yes! he's one of the main party members! listen to intersitital infinity on riley hopkins and their amazing friends!

Trish Una is a girl who is certain she knows what's going on. She shishkebobed Simon from Infinity Train. She is best friends with Shadow the Hedgehog, Mob from Mob Psycho, Alphonse Elric, and technically Shoka Sakurane.

Please vote for Trish she is so so sexy

Trish Una could take over a position of leadership in a preestablished location but could Virtue have a emotionally fraught conversation with carrie white?

Spanks Sinatra (Tidal Wave Games Podcast: SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY...)

Is too old for this shit (is 30)

When not performing, is drinking. When not drinking, is beating people up for money. When not beating people up for money, is performing. Life is purposefully structured to avoid encountering a thought for as long as possible

Loves to use his fists

Is so tired

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Don't forget that Spanks' name is Spanks Sinatra ok, this is very important. Appreciate my jokes.

Don't you want to reach over and give him a better reason to turn his brain off for a while?

Spanks self-describes as a "himbo", but he's really not; he's highly intelligent and analytical, with a lot of shit in his past, and at the time you meet him the most effective way he's found to keep his own brain from overwhelming him is by beating it into submission with a life of hard drinking and violence

Important note: Spanks is a woman, he just uses he/him pronouns for various reasons, most of which are that he's a butch drag king.

Also vote for him.

Vote for Spanks Sinatra!!!

Who are you going to vote for: the he/him lesbian who can bench press you, or the tangled bundle of Christmas lights in your attic?

Come ON, you're going to let the he/him lesbian drag king Frank Sinatra who is also a bounty hunter get beat by a pile of cold, unflavored spaghetti??? Seriously?

Audio propaganda with Sammy Sinclair.

Art propaganda of Spanks Sinatra being crushed by Husky, as mentioned in the above audio propaganda.