#as a rule i read x-men and absolute but there are exceptions

[jewishcissiekj]

decent comics today actually (<girl who only reads x-men and absolute)

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Villain System vs World - Riddle Rosehearts x reader

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

i had so much fun writing this, i hope you like it just as much!

Series Masterlist

You’ve had a week. Not just any week—a rough week. Work has been an absolute dumpster fire, deadlines have been chasing you like a pack of rabid wolves, and your responsibilities are piling up like a game of Jenga about to collapse. If someone were to ask how you’re doing, you’d just laugh maniacally and hope they’d back away slowly.

So, when you finally make it home, the first thing you do is collapse face-first onto your couch with all the grace of a dead fish. After a moment of just lying there, contemplating whether adulthood is some kind of elaborate prank, you do the one thing that always makes you feel better: grab your phone and open up your webnovel app.

You scroll through your favorites—ah yes, the classics. Trashy, absurd, villainess webnovels that are objectively terrible but subjectively amazing. You’re talking about the ones with titles like “I’m the Evil Duke’s Twisted Ex-Fiancée, But He Loves Me Now Because I Have Plot Armor!” or “My Death Flags Mean Nothing Because I Can Charm My Way Out of Everything (And Also, Dragons)”.

It’s like junk food for your brain. You know it’s not good for you. You know there are objectively better stories out there. But the drama, the ridiculous misunderstandings, the sheer stupidity of every character decision—it’s beautiful. It’s a hot mess, and you are the fly drawn to it.

Except this time, you somehow pick the worst one.

You don’t know if it’s because your standards are already on the floor and this one somehow dug under it, or if the exhaustion has finally gotten to you, but it’s bad.

The story is all over the place. The villainess is cartoonishly cruel, like she wakes up in the morning and thinks, “What heinous thing can I do today?” But sometimes, you swear she doesn’t even want to be that way. It’s like the author just decided, “Villainess = bad,” and put their brain to bed.

The plot? Oh, it’s a mess. The villainess and heroine are sisters—the real daughter of a Duke and the adopted, sweet angel who gets all the Duke’s affection. Naturally, they both fall for the same guy: Riddle Rosehearts, some prodigy with a complex about rules, order, and justice. Of course, the Duke arranges for his precious adopted daughter to marry Riddle, and the villainess? She flips out, does a bunch of cruel things (of course), and eventually gets herself killed in a totally overdramatic fashion.

Okay, typical villainess plot so far. Nothing new there.

But the worst part? The treatment of poor Riddle. It’s like he’s just a toy to be fought over. The sisters practically claim ownership of him like he’s a fancy handbag. Then, once the villainess is conveniently eliminated, the author gives Riddle this tragic backstory. Harsh childhood, crazy controlling mom—you know, the works. You brace yourself for the resolution, for him to rise above his traumaand find happiness.

Nope. His trauma is treated like a joke. Nothing gets resolved. He’s just stuck in this gilded cage, with the heroine taking over as the new warden. And somehow, that’s supposed to be the happy ending?

It’s horrible. It’s nonsensical. It’s everything you could want right now.

You should stop. You know you should stop. But the sheer absurdity of it has you in its grasp.

And you don't even want to think about the love decagon. Yes, decagon. There are 9 men dying over this heroine who has the personality of rusty spoon.

You snort, your laughter echoing through your empty apartment. It’s awful. It’s brain-rotting, cringe-inducing garbage.

You love it.

The plot is hanging on by a thread, and yet, there you are, fully committed. You don’t need quality writing, deep themes, or even consistent character motivations. What you need is to watch this trainwreck unfold until the bitter end, and you’ll be damned if you don’t see it through.

But that’s when the universe decides to kick you in the teeth. In a sequence of events so absurd you couldn’t make it up if you tried, you—oh, wait for it—die. And not in some grand, noble fashion, either. You slip on some residual shampoo on your bathroom floor, and fall face first onto a tap. Ouch.

Really?

Out of all the dramatic, swoon-worthy ways to die, like saving a kitten from a burning building or sacrificing yourself for someone you loved, you went out like a fool. A shower slip. One minute you’re standing, and the next, you’re faceplanting like some poorly executed slapstick scene.

And then, boom. Everything went black.

Which brings you to now. You feel odd. The texture of the sheets beneath you isn’t quite right. They’re silkier than the cheap cotton sheets you usually wrapped yourself in before bed. The air smells... different too. Not to mention, the bed feels way bigger, and you’re nestled in something way too plush to be your beat-up old mattress.

You bolt upright, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the room. You squint around and your eyes widen. This is… not your room. Gone are the band posters, the laundry in the corner, and your trusty alarm clock with the missing buttons. Instead, you’re surrounded by opulence: heavy velvet drapes, an intricately carved wooden dresser, and a huge vanity covered in jewels.

Your heart drops.

Slowly, you lift your hands. They are... not your hands. These are dainty, perfectly manicured hands. No chewed-off nails. No pen smudges from your hours of work. Just smooth, perfect fingers, topped off with the exact kind of expensive manicure you'd normally cringe at paying for.

No. Fucking. Way.

Frantically, you throw the blankets off yourself and scramble to the nearest mirror. What you see staring back at you isn’t your own reflection.

“Oh. My. God.”

You’ve been isekai’d. Into a webnovel.

And not just any webnovel. No. The terrible one you’d been reading before your humiliating death. You’re in the body of the villainess, the character who was basically a walking disaster from beginning to end. Not to mention, she was set to die a very messy, very public death within a few weeks.

“Oh god. I’m screwed.” You pace around the room in a panic, wringing your hands together. “How am I supposed to survive this? I can’t be a villainess! I don’t even like drama!”

You glance around desperately for something, anything that will give you some semblance of control over the situation. This can’t be happening. Maybe this is all a weird dream? You pinch yourself. Hard.

“Ow.” Nope. Definitely not a dream. Just your reality. Fantastic.

Then, you spot it. A glowing screen, floating mid-air right next to your head.

The classic system menu, like the ones from every villainess isekai you’ve read.

Except, instead of comforting you, this one makes you want to scream. Because in glaring red letters, it says:

“Villainess System Activated! Complete your tasks or face severe consequences.”

You blink. “Consequences?”

A new notification pops up, smug as hell. “Severe punishment will be dealt if you fail your villainous duties."

Oh, great. You’re trapped in a parody of an isekai where you not only have to survive as the villainess, but also complete quests like some twisted game. Lovely.

You stare at the system menu. “This is going to be fine,” you mutter, trying to convince yourself. “I just have to do the opposite of whatever got this chick killed. Just... stop being a jerk, right?”

But no sooner do you say that when the system blinks and pops up your first quest:

“System: Ruin Lady Heron’s Garden Party. Reward: 50 Villain Points.”

Are you kidding me?

You groan, rubbing your temples. “Okay, but hear me out,” you say to the system like it’s a person you can negotiate with. “What if I ruin it... with a compliment? Like, I tell her that her flower arrangements are so beautiful that she faints from the shock?”

The system’s reply is immediate: “Invalid. Must complete task in line with villainess behavior.”

“Oh, come on!” You pace the room again, muttering under your breath. “Fine. You wanna play it like this? I can play.” You crack your knuckles. “We’ll see who outsmarts who.”

The next hour passes in a whirlwind of panicked planning. You’ve read enough villainess novels to know the basic rules: never do what you’re supposed to do, but always make it look like you are. It’s malicious compliance at its finest.

So, when you arrive at Lady Heron’s garden party, dressed to kill (because apparently that’s a thing villainesses do), you’ve already concocted your plan.

The system wants you to ruin the event? Fine. But you’ll do it your way. You compliment Lady Heron’s flowers with the fakest smile you can muster, pouring on the charm. You gush about her decorations until she’s practically glowing, all while subtly steering the conversation away from the usual petty gossip that gets the villainess in trouble.

Instead of sabotaging the food, you pretend to be horrified when the catering staff makes a small mistake, swooping in to save the day and looking like a hero in the process. And as for the “accidental” tripping of the host’s dress that was supposed to happen? You deftly catch her instead, earning surprised gasps from the crowd.

By the end of it, the system’s fuming, and you’re basking in the glory of having completed your “villainous task” without actually being villainous.

Malicious compliance for the win, you think smugly.

The system didn't like your attitude and it wants it to be known.

"System: Next quest: Defeat the chicken in the garden."

No problem, right? It wasn’t like you were going up against a raging dragon or anything. It was just a chicken. A harmless little chicken.

Wrong.

You found yourself standing in a dusty barn, staring down the most demonic creature you’d ever seen—a puffed-up, red-eyed chicken with an attitude problem. This thing wasn’t just any chicken; it looked like it had gone ten rounds with a tiger and won. Twice.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you muttered under your breath, rolling up your sleeves as the chicken fluffed its feathers like it was about to brawl. You eyed it warily. It eyed you back, and for a second, you swore you saw flames in its eyes.

"System: Quest update: —Defeat the Chicken of Doom!"

Chicken of Doom? You squinted at the thing. “You could’ve warned me, you know.”

"System: Where’s the fun in that?"

The chicken let out an ear-splitting squawk and lunged at you like a tiny, feathered fury. You dodged, barely, as it pecked the air where your face had been a moment earlier. This was no ordinary chicken. This thing had skills.

You scrambled out of the way, trying to think of a strategy that didn’t involve you getting pecked into oblivion. “System! Any tips here?”

"System: Aim for the legs. That’s where the power is."

The legs? You glanced down at the chicken’s scrawny legs. “I’m pretty sure it’s coming for my face, not my ankles!”

"System: Well, you could always just run. But that’s not very villainous, is it?"

“Oh, you are the worst,” you grumbled as the chicken made another wild leap for your head. You ducked, grabbed a nearby rake, and swung it around like a makeshift sword. “Alright, chicken. Let’s dance.”

What followed was an embarrassing display of you flailing around the barn, trying to fend off this demonic poultry with a rake while the system laughed at you from the sidelines.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of dodging and weaving, you managed to hook the rake around one of its legs, pulling it off balance. The chicken flopped onto its back, flailing wildly as it squawked in outrage. You quickly pinned it down with the back-end of the take, panting heavily.

"System: Congratulations! Quest complete. 50 Villain Points awarded."

You glared at the system’s message. “I better get more than 100 points for this. I deserve a medal.”

"System: How about the satisfaction of knowing you just defeated the Chicken of Doom?"

You groaned, wiping sweat from your forehead. “Next time you send me on a quest, can it be against something less likely to murder me? Like a butterfly?”

"System: No promises. But look on the bright side—you’re officially undefeated in chicken combat. And you now are +50 Villain points richer"

“Fantastic,” you deadpanned, finally letting the defeated chicken hobble away with its dignity intact. “Just what I always wanted to be known for.”

You walked out of that barn a little wiser, a little bruised, and a lot more wary of small farm animals. From that day forward, chickens were officially your sworn enemies.

Villain points: 100

You were still in denial that you were in that novel. But what's a better wakeup call than running into the main lead? The guy who the story revolves around, Riddle Rosehearts.

You had decided to take a stroll in the academy's gardens when a loud squeaking noise caught your attention.

Turning the corner, you stumbled upon a scene that confirmed your worst fears: Riddle Rosehearts, was hunched over a small enclosure, tending to a couple of prickly hedgehogs.

“What in the world…?” you muttered, leaning in closer. Riddle was meticulously checking their little habitats, his brow furrowed in concentration. You had to admit, he looked oddly cute.

As you watched, one of the hedgehogs—who seemed to have more ambition than sense—decided to attempt an escape. It made a daring leap right off the side of the table, and you could practically hear the collective gasp of the students around you. Time slowed as you saw the tiny creature plummet toward the ground.

No!

Without thinking, you launched yourself forward, arms outstretched, preparing to catch the little spiky ball of chaos. You almost made it, but instead of a graceful landing, you miscalculated and ended up face-first in a pile of fallen leaves, with a hedgehog landing right on your back.

Riddle’s eyes widened in shock. “What are you doing?!”

With the hedgehog squirming atop you, you tried to push yourself up. “Just… saving this little guy,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. The hedgehog seemed to be enjoying the view from its leafy throne, completely unfazed by the near disaster.

“Are you okay?” Riddle asked, half-concerned, half-amused as he stepped closer. You could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, which was both infuriating and endearing.

“Yeah, just a minor case of heroism!” you replied, attempting to sound cool while still half-buried in leaves. “No big deal. Just saving lives one hedgehog at a time.”

The students around you started whispering, some trying to hold back laughter. Riddle, however, seemed genuinely impressed, his cheeks turning a shade of red that almost matched his hair. “Uh… thank you?” he said, fumbling for words. “That was… very quick thinking.”

As you finally managed to roll over, the hedgehog took that moment to scuttle off your back, plopping down on the ground with a little thud. You turned to Riddle, brushing leaves off your shirt. “Yeah, well, it’s what I do best. Hedgehog rescuer by day, unremarkable student by night.”

Riddle blinked, processing your words while his face continued to betray a mix of flustered admiration and confusion. “You… you look quite cool doing that,” he said, almost to himself, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

You smirked, enjoying the moment. “Cool? Well, thank you.”

Riddle opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly flustered. “Right… um, thank you again. I usually prefer to do everything by the book, but you… you have a knack for chaos.”

“Just trying to shake things up a bit!” you replied, grinning. “Besides, what’s life without a little excitement?”

His face turned an even deeper shade of red, and for a moment, you thought he might actually explode. “Excitement is… not exactly my strong suit,” he admitted with a seriousness that almost made you laugh.

Just then, Cater called out, “Hey, Riddle, are you blushing over there?”

Riddle straightened up, all business once more. “I am not blushing!” he snapped, though it only made the others laugh harder.

You couldn’t help but chuckle yourself. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it’s very becoming.”

At this point, he was trying desperately to regain his composure, his usual dignified self crumbling under the unexpected twist of fate. “Right, well… um, thanks for your help,” he stammered, trying to pivot back to his hedgehogs as if that would restore some order to his day.

“Anytime!” you replied cheerfully, already plotting your next move in this wild webnovel world. After all, you might just have to become the chaotic force that turns Riddle’s world upside down.

As you left him there, you couldn’t help but think—yup, you were definitely in that webnovel. And you were not hating it.

"System: New quest: Sabotage the dinner. +100 points"

Oh this was a quest you were willing to do even if the system didn't ask you to. All you need to do was question your darling sister's yapping and you'll be set.

The dinner is going about as smoothly as you’d expect a social gathering could in this godforsaken story. Which is to say, not smooth at all.

You’re sitting at a long, polished table that looks like it’s seen better days—probably because it's held together by the sheer willpower of outdated noble customs. Your dear sister, the illustrious heroine of the world, is seated at the opposite end of the table, positively glowing in her usual self-absorbed way, surrounded by a gaggle of male leads that have somehow become entangled in her web of charm. Including, of course, the third male lead, a guy whose name you don’t even care to remember, but who keeps giving you condescending looks from across the table.

Your father, seated next to her, is smiling like he’s watching his favorite child perform in a school play. Every time the heroine opens her mouth, he’s doting on her with embarrassing enthusiasm, nodding along like she’s spewing pearls of wisdom when, in reality, it’s more like dribbling out some very glittery, very ignorant garbage.

“Oh, Father,” your sister begins, in that overly sweet, almost nauseating voice of hers. “Did you know that dandelions are actually a type of flower? Most people mistake them for weeds, but I just find them so fascinating.”

You internally groan. Seriously? Dandelions? That’s the big revelation she’s bringing to the table tonight?

Your father beams at her, his eyes twinkling as if she’s just solved world hunger. “My dear, you’re so clever. It’s amazing how much you know!”

Ace, seated next to you, nearly spits out his water. You glance at him and catch the barely-restrained laughter on his face, which only makes you want to snicker along with him.

You give him a look that says "brace yourself."

You lean forward slightly, your face the picture of politeness, and say with a small smile, “Well, technically, dandelions are considered invasive species in most gardens. I suppose calling them ‘fascinating’ is one way of putting it.”

Your sister blinks at you, clearly confused by the subtle jab, while Trey—who’s seated beside Riddle—hides his smirk behind a delicate sip of wine. You catch a glint of amusement in Riddle’s eyes as well. Even he seems to be enjoying this trainwreck.

The heroine, though, refuses to let her utter lack of botanical knowledge slow her down. “Oh, well, I was just trying to emphasize how misunderstood they are! Like, did you know dandelion tea is supposed to help with digestion?”

You can’t help yourself. “Is that why you’ve been so full of it lately?”

There’s a loud snort from Cater, who quickly covers it up with a cough, but not before giving you an encouraging grin. Deuce’s shoulders shake as he tries to hold back laughter, while Ace is full-on grinning at the chaos you’re creating. Trey is still playing it cool, but you know he’s on the verge of losing it too.

Your sister pouts at you, her lower lip trembling like she’s about to burst into tears. Oh, here we go. The waterworks. But honestly, you’re not about to feel guilty for calling her out when she practically walked into it.

“You always have to be so mean to me,” she whines, her voice wobbling dramatically. “I was just trying to have a nice conversation!”

Your father, predictably, jumps to her defense. “Now, now,” he says, giving you a stern look. “There’s no need to be so harsh with your sister.”

Harsh? Oh, please. If this is what he considers harsh, he clearly hasn’t spent much time around actual harsh people. Not that you’re about to say that aloud, of course.

“Apologies, Father,” you say, trying to keep your tone as neutral as possible while still dripping with passive-aggression. “I’ll be sure to keep my comments to myself next time.” You pause for a beat, and then add with a pointed look, “Unless, of course, they’re about real flowers.”

Cater and Ace lose it, full-on laughing at this point, and Deuce isn’t far behind. Even Trey is chuckling softly into his drink.

And then—oh, wait, is that a smile on Riddle’s face?

It is.

Holy crap.

For the first time since this disaster of a dinner started, you see a genuine smile tugging at Riddle Rosehearts’ lips. It’s small, but it’s there. And it’s directed at you.

Well, well, well, you think. Who knew I’d get the tiniest bit of amusement out of the stoic redhead tonight?

Riddle’s mother, who has been sitting quietly at the head of the table this whole time, seems to notice as well. She raises an eyebrow at you, and while she doesn’t say anything, the slight nod of approval she gives is as close to praise as you’re ever going to get from her.

Meanwhile, your sister has resorted to dabbing her eyes with a napkin, and the third male lead looks like he’s about ready to crawl under the table and disappear. Honestly, with the way his face is turning red, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just bolted for the door.

As the heroine sniffles dramatically, trying to regain her composure, Riddle’s mother clears her throat. “Perhaps it’s time we moved on to the next course.”

You sit back in your chair, feeling rather pleased with yourself. You’ve always known how to work a room, but this? This was practically a performance art piece. A subtle roast of the dinner party’s most insufferable members, all without breaking a sweat.

Trey gives you a subtle thumbs-up from across the table, Cater is still grinning like an idiot, and Ace is wiping tears from his eyes. Even Deuce looks like he’s enjoying himself more than usual.

And Riddle? He’s still smiling.

All in all, you’d call this a successful dinner.

"System: +100 points"

Villain Points: 200

You reached a compromise with the system during a mind numbingly boring tea party. You were doing your best to sit there with a polite smile plastered on your face while your sister droned on about her latest dress, but all you could think about was the fact that there were probably better uses of your time—like, say, literally anything else. Maybe you could fake a sudden illness and make a run for it? Or trip over a conveniently placed teacup and disappear into the shrubbery?

And that’s when you heard it.

"System: New Quest—Make it through this tea party without falling asleep. Reward: Not looking like a complete fool."

You almost snorted out loud, but quickly caught yourself. Great, the system is back at it again with these stellar rewards.

Gee, thanks, system. Truly motivating stuff.

"System: Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want something better? How about I throw in 50 Villain Points?"

Your eyes widened. Wait, 50 Villain Points just for not dozing off during this boring nonsense?

"System: Well, technically, you just have to stay awake. I never said you couldn’t look bored out of your mind."

You grinned slightly, trying to hide your amusement behind your teacup. You’re starting to grow on me, you know that?

"System: Likewise. I must say, I didn’t expect someone like you to actually stick with me this long. Most people would’ve either ignored me or gotten themselves killed by now. But you? You’ve got potential."

Aw, stop, you’re gonna make me blush.

"System: I’m serious! You’ve got guts. You think outside the box. You’re not afraid to bend the rules a little. And that’s why I’ve got a proposition for you."

You leaned back in your chair, intrigued. Oh? Go on, I’m listening.

"System: Here’s the deal—I’ll start giving you quests that aren’t designed to get you killed or humiliated beyond repair. In exchange, you have to promise to actually follow through on them. And I don’t mean half-heartedly—I want 100% commitment. Deal?"

Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you’ve been giving me death traps this whole time?

System: Well… not death traps, per se. More like… character-building exercises.

I swear to God, system, if you ever make me fight a rabid chicken again—

"System: That chicken was a necessary evil! Character development! But fine, fine. No more chickens. Only reasonable, non-lethal missions from now on. What do you say? Partners in villainy?"

You tapped your chin, pretending to mull it over. Hmmm… sounds tempting. But what’s in it for me besides the joy of your sparkling company?

"System: Oh, you know, the usual—power, influence, fame, and fortune. Plus, I’ll throw in some juicy blackmail material for when your sister inevitably gets on your nerves again."

Your grin widened. Now that is the kind of offer I can’t refuse.

"System: That’s the spirit! Now, first mission as my official partner: Sabotage your sister’s next grand entrance. Nothing too catastrophic—just a little stumble, maybe some ruffled feathers. Keep it classy."

And just like that, you and the system were officially besties. It was weirdly comforting knowing you had a sarcastic AI watching your back—and occasionally messing with your enemies. Sure, it might’ve been the weirdest friendship ever forged in the history of villainy, but hey, you’d take it. You’d never be bored again with this delightful chaos agent in your corner.

As you left the tea party with your head held high, the system chimed in one last time.

"System: By the way, next time your sister brags about her shoes? “Accidentally” mention that those went out of fashion last season."

You smirked. Oh, system, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

+50 points, + 1 extremely powerful ally.

Villain points: 250

It was supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. You had gone into the library looking for a quiet place to relax after a long day of trying to stay out of family drama. But of course, there was Riddle, hunched over a mountain of books with his hands gripping his hair like it had personally wronged him. Not to mention, your sister was sitting nearby, yammering on about… something. Something that was definitely not helping Riddle’s clear state of panic.

As soon as you walked in, your eyes locked with his, and in that instant, you could practically hear his brain screaming for help. It was a silent plea, one you couldn’t ignore.

With a sigh and a bit of a smirk, you sauntered over, interrupting your sister’s endless tirade about her latest frivolous pursuit. “Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you said brightly, grabbing Riddle by the arm and pulling him up from his chair before he could protest.

Your sister blinked at you, clearly thrown off by your sudden intrusion. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of an important conversation—”

“Were you though?” You raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure Riddle needs a break. He’s been studying for hours, right?” You didn’t wait for an answer, instead giving Riddle a quick nudge. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.”

To your relief (and amusement), Riddle offered no resistance, letting you whisk him away from the library and your sister’s insufferable voice.

Once you were safely in one of the quieter gardens, Riddle sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know how much more of that I could’ve handled. Thank you.”

“No problem. Honestly, I did it for my own sanity too,” you chuckled, leading him to a bench under a shady tree. “But seriously, you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Riddle’s face flushed a bit as he glanced away. “I’ve been… focused. There’s a lot to cover.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” you replied dryly, nudging him to sit down. “But if you don’t rest, you’re going to burn out. Even someone like you can’t run on fumes forever.”

He hesitated for a moment but eventually sat down, clearly too tired to argue. “I suppose you’re right…”

Riddle leaned back against the bench, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. You thought he’d sit there for a few minutes, maybe catch his breath, and that’d be it.

Except he didn’t just catch his breath.

Nope.

Instead, Riddle Rosehearts, the pristine, perfectly poised model student… fell asleep on your shoulder.

And you? You froze.

Oh no.

Oh God.

What do I do?!

Your mind spiraled as you sat there, staring at the top of his bright red head resting comfortably against you. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against your side, his quiet, steady breathing, the softness of his hair—

Wait. Why is his hair so soft? It’s like spun silk.

Does he use some kind of magic conditioner? Should I ask him for hair care tips?

No, focus! Focus!

You peeked down at him again, and he looked so peaceful, his usual stern expression completely relaxed. You could feel your heart racing, and the logical part of your brain screamed at you to keep it together, but the other half—the half that was currently hyper-aware of Riddle’s head resting on your shoulder—was completely losing it.

Is this what bliss feels like? Is this how people write poems? “Oh Riddle, how thou art like the setting sun, warm and brilliant yet—WAIT, what am I thinking?! I am losing my mind! THIS IS BAD!

But also… very, very good?

You glanced around nervously, wondering if someone might see this. Would this look weird to people? Am I weird for not moving? I can’t move. He’s asleep. If I move, he’ll wake up and think I’m a weirdo for staying so still and letting him nap on me like this. Oh God, what if he thinks I’m weird?!

But even as your brain launched into a full-blown existential crisis, you couldn’t deny how nice this felt. Riddle looked so soft—so vulnerable—and for once, he wasn’t burdened by the weight of expectations or responsibilities. He was just… Riddle. And that made something inside you feel oddly tender.

Your gaze softened as you looked at him. Maybe this isn't so bad. Maybe I could get used to this. Maybe—

Then, without warning, Riddle stirred, shifting slightly before blinking his eyes open. He looked groggy for a second, but as soon as he realized where he was—where you were—his entire face turned scarlet.

“Ah!” he gasped, jerking upright. “I—! I didn’t mean to—! I—!”

You blinked at him, trying very hard to pretend that you hadn’t just gone through a whole mental rollercoaster while he was napping. “Uh… it’s fine. You were tired. Happens to the best of us.”

He quickly straightened his uniform, flustered beyond belief. “That was… highly inappropriate. I apologize. You must think I’m terribly uncouth.”

“Nah,” you said with a grin, waving him off. “You’re a hard worker. Even someone like you deserves a break.”

Riddle looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment. “Still, I shouldn’t have—"

You laughed and patted his shoulder. “Relax. It was kinda cute, honestly.”

He looked at you with wide eyes, his blush deepening. “C-cute?”

Realizing what you just said, your face turned bright red. “Uh, yeah, like… in a respectable, admirable way, obviously! Because, you know, falling asleep is… healthy… and stuff.”

From behind you, you heard Ace’s familiar snicker, and you turned to see him and Deuce standing there, both of them with identical grins.

“You’re totally simping,” Ace teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God, go away.”

Riddle coughed, straightening his back and trying very hard to regain his composure. “Ahem. I think I’ll… return to my studies. Thank you again for helping me earlier.”

He stood up, still looking mildly mortified, but as he walked away, you caught the faintest smile on his lips.

Ace elbowed you with a grin. “You’ve got it bad.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, your face still burning as you watched Riddle leave.

But deep down, you couldn’t stop smiling either.

You sit at the breakfast table, staring at the notification hovering just above your coffee.

"System: New Quest: Get your sister to humiliate herself in front of the Empress. Reward: 100 Villain Points."

Your sister, ever the radiant queen of smugness, lounges at the other end, flipping her hair like she’s about to step onto a runway. Her latest self-important monologue about being 'practically irreplaceable' in the Empress’s inner circle grates at your nerves.

“What’s with the face?” Ace flops into the seat next to you, raising an eyebrow at your sudden, murderous glare.

Deuce, ever the responsible one, follows, setting down his tray with a clink. “You alright? You’ve been quiet.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I got stuck with… a task.”

Ace snickers. “What, the world’s worst chore or something?”

You glance at your sister, now preening at her reflection in a spoon, and mutter, “Worse. I need to make her humiliate herself in front of the Empress.”

Both Ace and Deuce freeze, staring at you in disbelief.

Ace nearly snorts his drink. “You—wait, what? You have to do that?” His eyes practically light up. “That’s hilarious.”

Deuce, always the voice of reason, frowns. “Why do you need to do that? That sounds kinda… extreme.”

You sigh, trying to keep it vague. “Let’s just say... it’s a long story. But trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Ace leans back, grinning like he’s just been given front-row tickets to the chaos. “Oh, I am so in. We have to take down the drama queen? Say no more.”

Deuce hesitates, but after a glance at your sister—who’s loudly bragging about her upcoming meeting with the Empress—he sighs. “I guess if it’s for a good cause... she could use a little humility.”

“Perfect.” You clap your hands together, a plan already forming. “But it has to look natural. No obvious sabotage.”

Ace smirks. “You say that like I’m not an expert in ‘subtle.’”

The banquet is set in a lavish garden, with your sister already dressed in the most elaborate gown she could find. She looks like she’s ready to steal the spotlight—and she fully intends to. But you’re three steps ahead. As you, Ace, and Deuce trail behind her, you start whispering the plan. “She always does that thing where she stands up to give a toast in front of everyone, right?”

Deuce nods. “Yeah, she loves being the center of attention.”

You glance at Ace. “Think you can handle making sure her ‘center of attention’ moment doesn’t go as planned?”

Ace grins wickedly. “Leave it to me.”

Your sister, in all her glittering glory, steps up to the platform. The Empress and her courtiers watch on, curious, while your sister clears her throat, preparing to launch into one of her legendary speeches.

Ace winks at you, positioning himself near the platform’s support. With the lightest nudge, it shifts, just enough to unbalance your sister. As she stands, her heel catches on the uneven surface.

Her eyes widen. “Wha—?”

And down she goes, arms flailing dramatically as she tumbles straight into a nearby fountain.

There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, and the Empress looks mildly surprised as water splashes everywhere. Your sister, soaked and sputtering, looks utterly mortified.

Ace bites his lip to keep from laughing. “Oops.”

Deuce winces but nods. “Well... that worked.”

You can’t help the satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as your system pings again.

"System: Quest Complete. Reward: 100 Villain Points."

“Perfect,” you murmur under your breath, already thinking about the next quest.

As your sister sputters her way out of the fountain, dripping wet and desperately trying to regain her composure, the crowd falls into an awkward silence. You can practically hear her brain scrambling to salvage the moment.

She forces a bright smile, pushing wet hair out of her face. “Well, that was… unexpected,” she says, laughing nervously. “I suppose even the most poised among us can have a moment of... gracelessness”

The Empress raises a perfectly arched brow, but remains silent, watching with a cool, unreadable expression.

Your sister, in her panic, decides to fill the silence with her usual brand of arrogance. “I’m sure someone will fix that platform,” she says, waving a hand dismissively at the servants. “Honestly, who would set up something so poorly constructed? I could’ve been seriously hurt!” She glances at the Empress and adds, in a misguided attempt to flatter, “But of course, I suppose even the Empress’s court isn’t immune to such… minor mistakes.”

Ace and Deuce both freeze. Your stomach drops.

The Empress’s lips tighten just slightly, a subtle but dangerous shift. “Minor mistakes?” she repeats, her voice icy and sharp.

Your sister, utterly clueless, laughs again, louder this time, still trying to brush it off. “Oh, of course, not your fault, Your Majesty. I’m sure your staff just… overlooked something. It happens, right?”

The crowd’s collective inhale is deafening. Even Deuce slaps a hand to his forehead, muttering, “Oh no…”

Ace looks like he’s about to choke trying to hold back his laughter. “She’s done,” he whispers gleefully.

The Empress finally stands, her gaze narrowing on your sister. “I assure you,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “such oversights are very rare in my court.”

Your sister opens her mouth to respond, but there’s no coming back from this. The Empress has already turned away, addressing one of her advisors with a wave of dismissal. Your sister is left standing there, soaked and utterly humiliated, in front of everyone.

As the system pings again in your head— "System: Bonus Quest Complete: Cause a Major Faux Pas. Reward: 50 Villain Points"—you can’t help but smirk.

"Well," Ace leans in, whispering, "mission accomplished."

As you watch your sister fumble through an awkward curtsy, trying to salvage what little dignity she has left, the familiar ping of the system goes off in your head again—but this time, it sounds... different.

"Villain System: Achievement Unlocked—Total Disaster;

Reward: 50 Villain Points + Bonus Perk!"

Before you can fully register the notification, the system continues, breaking its usual monotone, deadpan style.

"System: Honestly..." there's a brief pause, like it's trying to hold back a laugh. "I have to hand it to you. This... this was beautiful. I mean, wow, top-tier humiliation. The look on her face? Priceless. I didn’t think you had it in you to pull off such magnificent chaos so effortlessly. Not to mention the insult to the Empress."

Another chuckle—this time, you can feel it reveling in the scene.

"System: You're really becoming quite the villain, huh? I’m almost impressed. Well, because you've reached a new level of villainy—and honestly, you’ve earned it—here’s a special perk. You hit 1,000 points, and I’ll give you an out. You can get rid of me. Completely. No more schemes, no more quests. Freedom from this system."

For a moment, you can barely believe it. The system’s offering you a way out? 

"System: Oh, but until then, I’m not going anywhere. And really, wouldn’t it be a shame to stop now? You’re on such a roll."

You shake your head, but even you can't deny the chaos was a little satisfying. Your sister, now the talk of the court, dripping with embarrassment, is living proof of that.

"What's up?" Ace asks, glancing at you. "You look like you just won something."

"Yeah," you mutter under your breath, smirking. "Something like that."

Villain Points: 500. 500 points to freedom.

The test results had come out earlier today and Riddle had topped it, as usual. But he was not allowed to come celebrate with the rest of you, which has led here.

It’s late at night, and the manor is quiet—eerily quiet, except for the soft rustling of leaves outside Riddle's window. You stand beneath the window with a strawberry tart in your hands, feeling very much like a strange version of a fairy-tale hero. Except, instead of rescuing a damsel in distress, you're here to sneak contraband dessert to an overworked boy whose mother monitors his sugar intake like a hawk.

"Riddle!" you whisper-shout up to the second floor. "Let down your hair—uh, I mean, your bedsheets!"

There’s a pause before Riddle’s head pops out of the window, confused but intrigued. "What are you doing out there? It’s late."

"Shhh!" You gesture for him to keep it down, holding up the tart like it’s some sort of forbidden treasure. "I brought you a strawberry tart. Your mom might have banned it, but we live dangerously in this house."

Riddle’s eyes widen, and for a moment, you think he might actually tear up. "You... You risked sneaking a tart past Mother... for me?" He looks genuinely touched, and you can see the internal battle raging between his desire to stay obedient and his deep, insatiable love for strawberry tarts.

"Yes, I am willing to defy the Tart Tyrant for you," you say, nodding solemnly. "Now hurry up and lower the bedsheets before she finds out and decides to have me beheaded for dessert-related treason."

Riddle hesitates for just a second, but the lure of the forbidden pastry is too strong. After a moment, he vanishes from the window, only to return with a neatly tied set of bedsheets. He throws them down like some kind of serious, rule-abiding Rapunzel.

You take a second to appreciate the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, then quickly tie the tart to the end of the sheet rope. “Alright, here comes the goods!” You give the bedsheets a tug to let him know the package is secured.

With a little effort, Riddle pulls up the tart with the same solemnity you’d expect if he were receiving an ancient royal artifact instead of sugar-laden contraband. He gingerly unties the tart and holds it in his hands, staring at it like it's the most precious thing he's ever seen.

You then somehow use the bedsheets to get up there too. Wow maybe you are truly a fairy-tale hero.

"You truly are remarkable," Riddle says, his voice soft with gratitude. He turns his gaze toward you with such an earnest expression that you suddenly feel self-conscious.

You wave him off, trying to play it cool. "Eh, it's nothing. Just saving you from a tartless existence."

But instead of saying anything, Riddle leans down and, with the utmost care and sincerity, presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand, like some sort of old-fashioned gentleman. "Thank you," he murmurs.

And that’s when it happens.

Your brain shuts down. Completely. Like someone pulled the plug on your thoughts and left you staring blankly into space. The only thing running through your head is static. You don't even register the tart anymore. Did he just—? Did Riddle Rosehearts just—?

You short-circuit so hard that your mouth moves, but nothing coherent comes out. “Guh... buh... uh...” Great. So much for playing it cool.

Riddle, ever the gentleman, doesn’t seem to notice your malfunction, as he’s too busy taking the tiniest, most delicate bite of the tart, savoring it like he’s trying to make it last forever. "Delicious," he whispers, clearly over the moon.

Meanwhile, you’re still stuck on the whole hand kiss thing. Did that actually just happen? Did you fall into an alternate reality? Is this still the same planet?

Ace is going to have a field day with this.

"Uh, well... goodnight!" You finally manage to blurt out before spinning on your heel and power-walking away, almost jumping off the balcony instead of climbing down, mentally screaming at yourself for turning into a malfunctioning robot over a simple gesture. You hear Riddle chuckle softly behind you, a sound that somehow makes your heart do a weird little flip, and then his window quietly closes.

The whole way back to your room, you're fighting off the most embarrassing grin. Maybe this little night mission was worth it after all—short circuits and all.

The next morning, you wake up to a new notification from your ever-so-charming system.

"Villain System: New Quest—Make the heroine cry and win the baking competition. Reward: 100 Villain Points"

You stare at the message, blinking. Make the heroine cry? That’s one thing, but… win the baking competition? You don’t even bake.

"System: Oh, did I forget to mention? The heroine has won every year because it’s women-only, and the original villainess didn’t care about trivial things like baking. Now she’s got a free pass to victory—unless, of course, you do something about it."

You roll your eyes. Right, of course. But then, an idea hits you. Trey. Who needs to bake when you know the one person who could win with his eyes closed?

In this kingdom’s prestigious baking competition, there's one important loophole: while only women are allowed to officially compete, each contestant is permitted a single helper. Of course, most participants choose their helpers from other women to maintain the spirit of the tradition. However, there’s nothing in therules that says it has to be a woman.

The heroine, ever the strategic darling, has chosen none other than the Sixth Male Lead as her helper—an aspiring nobleman known for his meticulous manners and refined taste. His calm demeanor and careful attention to detail make him a safe bet, and you overhear the heroine boasting that, with his assistance, her victory is all but guaranteed.

Yeah, not this year.

Instead of following tradition, you’ve asked Trey to be your helper. Trey Clover—renowned for his skill in the kitchen, and quite possibly the one person who could bake the heroine’s smug little plans into pie. The original villainess never cared enough to bother with this competition, which gave the heroine free rein. But now? Now she has to face you, and by extension, Trey.

And Trey Clover doesn’t play for second place when it comes to sweets.

Later that day, you find Trey in the gardens, tending to some herbs. He looks up, giving you that calm, friendly smile. "Need something?"

"Yeah, actually. There’s a baking competition coming up," you say nonchalantly, "and I need to win."

Trey raises an eyebrow. "I thought it was women-only?"

You shrug. "It is, but I thought you could, you know, help me win."

He chuckles, brushing some dirt off his hands. "What kind of help are we talking?"

"Let's just say," you grin, "we’ll be making a dessert so good that even the Empress and Emperor will swoon. And if sister dearest happens to cry... well, that's just a bonus."

Trey looks amused but intrigued. "Alright, I’m in. Let’s see what we can whip up."

The day of the competition arrives, and as expected, the heroine is floating around the kitchen like she owns the place. You catch a glimpse of her smug smile as she arranges her ingredients, clearly confident that victory is hers.

Little does she know.

You and Trey work quietly, making an intricate dessert that smells so good even the judges start peeking over your shoulder. It’s a delicate mille-feuille with layers of crisp pastry, rich cream, and fresh fruit, and the entire hall is already filled with its tantalizing aroma.

"Are you sure you want to go this hard?" Trey asks, smirking as he plates the dessert. "This might be overkill."

You laugh. "Overkill is the goal."

As the competition moves forward, you notice the heroine starting to fidget. Her confidence wavers when she sees your masterpiece, and by the time judging begins, she’s outright glaring at you.

The Empress and Emperor sit at the head of the table, and when your dessert is placed in front of them, you watch as they take a bite. First, there’s silence. Then, the Empress closes her eyes, a look of pure bliss on her face.

The Emperor leans back, sighing deeply. "This... this is incredible."

Even the Prince, sitting beside them, takes a bite and pauses. He leans in toward you with a subtle smile. "Such talent... A skillful partner would be quite the asset to the royal family."

You raise an eyebrow but smile politely.

"While I appreciate the compliment, Your Highness, I’m not interested in marriage at the moment. My hands are quite full with other matters."

The Prince looks mildly disappointed, but the Empress shoots him a warning glance, and he wisely backs off. You can feel the heroine seething from across the room.

Then, Riddle, who’s been observing the competition from the side, steps up to taste your creation. He takes a small, cautious bite—and his entire face lights up. His normally stern expression softens, and he looks so genuinely pleased that you can’t help but feel a little flustered yourself. Who knew Riddle could be this cute?

"This is... delightful," he says quietly, and for a moment, you forget about the competition entirely. 

"Glad you like it," you say, your voice a little softer than you intended. 

Ace nudges you from the side, wiggling his eyebrows. "You blushing? Never thought I'd see the day."

"Shut up," you hiss back, feeling your face heat up even more.

Meanwhile, the heroine, who has been watching the whole scene, looks on the verge of tears. As the judges declare you the winner, she loses her composure entirely and storms out of the hall, sniffling dramatically.

Ace bursts into laughter. "Wow, you really made her cry, huh? I’m loving this!"

Deuce, more concerned, pats you on the back. "Well... at least you won the competition?"

You smirk, satisfied. "Yeah, I’d say that went pretty well."

As you leave the competition hall, your system chimes in again.

"Villain System: Quest complete! 100 Villain Points awarded."

"System: I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting you to fluster Riddle like that, but hey, bonus points for making the Prince back off too. Well played. +25 points"

Villain Points: 625.  375 points left till freedom.

You had to do something about the funny little flips your heart did when you even dared to glance at Riddle and so here you were, dramatically declaring a “Strategy Meeting” with Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. You had even assigned roles—like some kind of overly elaborate battle plan—because, in your mind, this was war. And the enemy? Your increasingly uncontrollable feelings for a certain redheaded, rule-abiding, perfectionist nobleman.

You stood at the head of the table like a general ready to command the troops, but instead of warriors, you had your collection of questionable allies. Trey and Cater were lounging comfortably, while Ace and Deuce seemed entirely too excited about the prospect of scheming.

“Alright,” you began, pacing in front of the group. “Here’s the deal. I think I like Riddle.”

You were met with silence at first. Then, Ace broke into the most ridiculous grin. “Pfft, of course you do. You’ve been mooning over him for weeks now. Congratulations on finally catching up to reality!”

Deuce elbowed him. “Hey, don’t make fun of them! It’s... uh... commendable that you’re so serious about it.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, like you were some kind of lovesick puppy.

Cater, who had been leaning back casually in his chair, gave you a teasing wink. “Aww, our little villain is going soft. I guess all that sneaking tarts and saving him from certain doom finally got to you, huh?”

Trey, ever the calm and rational one, simply folded his arms and gave you a small smile. “Well, it makes sense. You two have spent a lot of time together. He’s... a good guy. A bit high-strung, but good.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is not helpful. I need a plan, people! Riddle’s mom already thinks I’m a conniving little troublemaker—how am I supposed to make a good impression while also, you know... not being painfully awkward around him?”

Ace raised his hand dramatically like you were in the middle of a classroom. “Simple solution: you don’t. Just be yourself. He’s already used to your brand of chaos. Besides, you already saved him from his mom’s sugar ban, so I’d say you’re ahead of the game.”

Deuce nodded, adding, “Yeah! Plus, you’re like, really smart and cool, so... you’ve got this!”

“Okay, so,” Cater piped in, “in terms of strategy, you could always stage some grand gesture. I mean, Riddle’s all about tradition and propriety, right? What if you—”

Suddenly, a voice interrupted from behind you. “What are you all plotting now?”

You froze, spinning around to see none other than your mother, the Duchess, standing in the doorway with an amused look on her face. She had an uncanny talent for sneaking up on people.

“M-Mother! I, uh... it’s nothing serious. We’re just—”

She raised an eyebrow, cutting off your fumbling explanation with a wave of her hand. “If you’re scheming about Riddle Rosehearts, dear, you could use a bit more refinement. Fortunately for you, I’ve decided to assist.”

“Wait, what?” You blinked at her, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath you. “You’re... helping me?”

She gave you a knowing smile. “Well, it’s about time someone showed that other daughter of mine what true charm looks like. You’ve always been the more intelligent one.”

“Uh... thanks?” You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that.

Without another word, your mother turned to the butler who had been standing in the hallway. “Make sure everything is in place for dinner tonight. And do make certain the maids are aware of our... little plans.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” the butler replied with a subtle bow before whisking away.

You stared after him, feeling both flustered and slightly panicked. “Mother... what are you planning?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “It’s nothing too drastic. Just a little adjustment to how tonight’s dinner will go.”

That evening, you found yourself at the weekly gathering/dinner, sitting at the long, ornate table alongside your parents, Riddle, his mother, and—unfortunately—your sister, who was already droning on about some utterly mundane topic that only she could make sound self-important.

And then, the plan began.

The maids moved around the table, loudly discussing their work. "Oh, our youngest lady is always so kind to us, isn't she? Such a breath of fresh air!"

"Yes, yes," another maid replied with an exaggerated nod. "And always so intelligent! Did you hear how she handled that situation at the garden party? Simply remarkable!"

Riddle’s mother perked up at the praise, her sharp gaze cutting from the maids to you, her expression intrigued. Your sister, on the other hand, looked like she was about to burst a blood vessel.

The butler, who had been refilling glasses, suddenly spoke up as well. "Ah, I must say, our young miss has shown extraordinary grace and poise recently. A true future lady of the house, if I may be so bold."

You were mortified. Your face felt like it was on fire, and you desperately tried to shrink into your seat. This was not what you had planned. You could feel Riddle’s eyes on you, and you were certain you were about to pass out from sheer embarrassment.

Your sister, however, could not stay silent. “Excuse me?” she snapped. “I don’t know what all this nonsense is about, but—”

But the maids and butler kept going, seemingly oblivious to her anger. "Indeed, I can’t think of anyone more suited to such a role!" one of the maids declared.

Riddle’s mother hummed thoughtfully, clearly impressed by the blatant—and likely orchestrated—praise. “It is quite rare to find such well-rounded young women these days,” she mused, looking at you with a glint of approval in her eyes. “Perhaps I should consider the advantages of such a match after all.”

You nearly choked on your drink. Riddle, across from you, was staring at his plate like he was trying to become one with it. He looked both horrified and... pleased? Maybe?

And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, Ace—because of course, it had to be Ace—leaned over and whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Hey, at least you know Riddle's mom doesn’t hate you anymore. Progress!”

You shot him a glare, but the damage was done. Everyone at the table had heard, and Riddle’s mother raised a curious eyebrow at you both. You could practically feel Riddle sinking further into his seat.

The dinner continued with more awkward small talk, with your mother throwing in subtle digs at your sister’s lack of... everything, while you tried your hardest not to combust from sheer humiliation.

But hey—if nothing else, at least Riddle wasn’t the only one who felt like he needed to escape to the nearest corner. Small victories, right?

"System: Quest: Make Riddle Say Something Mean to Your Sister. Reward: 100 Points"

The system pings you with the next quest, and you almost laugh out loud. Get Riddle to say something mean to your sister? The guy whose idea of an insult is reminding someone to follow the rules more carefully? You know this’ll be near impossible—his mother raised him to be the picture of etiquette and politeness.

But, then again, opportunity tends to strike when you least expect it, and with your villain system, those moments come with a bit of flair.

It all starts innocently enough: horseback riding. You’re a natural at it, of course, and as you effortlessly guide your horse around the course, your sister glares at you from the sidelines, arms crossed.

"Oh, how shocking," she drawls loud enough for everyone to hear. "A masculine activity. How unbecoming for a lady."

Before you can snap back, someone else beats you to it. "That's funny, I quite like horseback riding too," The Empress says, her voice as polite as ever but with just enough edge to make your darling sister freeze.

And when Riddle adds that he also enjoys horseback riding, you almost snort. Of course, he does. Riddle would have to enjoy something that involves strict rules and perfect posture.

Your sister's eyes flicker toward Riddle, suddenly aware that insulting horseback riding is not the wisest move when he is within earshot. She stammers, trying to recover. "I—I mean, I didn’t say it was entirely inappropriate. It’s just—"

You just stare at her, subtly challenging her to continue. And she takes the bait.

Sensing an opportunity to show off, your sister decides to prove she’s good at it too. "I’ll show you how a real lady rides a horse," she declares, moving to mount the closest horse. The horse, sensing the storm of bad vibes radiating from your sister, immediately snorts and takes a few steps back.

“See, even the horse knows better,” Ace mutters behind you, earning a chuckle from Deuce. You can’t help but grin.

Your sister’s attempt to get on the horse is nothing short of a disaster. Her foot slips, her balance is off, and the horse finally has enough. In one swift move, it bucks her off before she’s even properly seated, sending her tumbling to the ground in an undignified heap.

For a second, there's stunned silence. Then, in true ‘sister’ fashion, she gets up, furious and embarrassed, and hits the horse on the flank.

Oh no. She did not just hit the horse.

Riddle’s face turns red—not his usual "I’m about to scold you" red, but the kind of red that suggests a leviathan-level insult has just taken place. "What are you doing?" he snaps, shocking everyone in earshot. Even you pause, surprised.

You quickly recover, barely holding back your grin. You can already feel the points tallying up.

"That was completely uncalled for," Riddle continues, his voice icy. "You should apologize to the horse."

Your sister sputters, clearly not used to being reprimanded by someone like Riddle.

"I—I didn’t—"

"Violence toward an innocent animal," the Emperor chimes in from his observation point, his tone dripping with disapproval. "Disgraceful behavior."

The Imperial Princess, who has been watching with her arms crossed, gives a snort of laughter. "Well, clearly not everyone can handle themselves with grace on horseback."

Your sister looks like she’s about to implode, her cheeks burning redder than Riddle's hair. "I didn’t mean—"

"Please," Riddle says, cutting her off with a wave of his hand. "Let’s not make this any worse for yourself."

The system pops up again with a cheeky little message.

"+25 bonus points: The system respects that level of carnage. Well done."

Honestly, even you can’t help but respect the sheer scale of the damage your sister just managed to cause to her own reputation in a matter of minutes.

Riddle, who’s usually the epitome of control, saying something that mean? The Emperor, the Imperial Princess, and the Empress all scolding her? It’s a beautiful mess, and you’ll take the points with a smile.

Villain Points: 750. 150 points left till freedom

You’re lounging in the courtyard, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when chaos inevitably strikes. You don’t know why you thought you could have a quiet afternoon without something going wrong. The universe must have you on its watchlist, and today, it decided to throw a wrench in the form of Deuce Spade sprinting across the courtyard, holding a goose under his arm like some kind of barnyard Olympian.

The goose then shows a surprising amount of athleticism and manages to pivot in his arms and jump down.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU FEATHERED MENACE!” Ace screams behind him, waving what looks like a loaf of bread. You raise an eyebrow, confused but intrigued. “Uh… do I even want to know?”

“They’re trying to catch the Duchess’s prized goose,” Cater pipes up, appearing out of nowhere. “It escaped from the coop. Again.”

You squint at the scene unfolding before you, watching as Deuce trips over a bush, while grabbing its tail, sending both himself and the goose tumbling to the ground, feathers everywhere. The goose immediately makes a break for it, flapping wildly in your direction. You can’t help it—some deep, misguided instinct kicks in. You blame your duel with the chicken of doom. Must help friends! Must catch rogue poultry!

You leap to your feet, determination surging through you. This is it. This is your time to shine. You throw yourself at the goose, diving for it like a soccer goalie saving the game-winning shot.

And you miss. Not just miss—you whiff it entirely. Instead, you skid along the ground, getting a face full of dirt and grass. The goose, clearly uninterested in whatever heroic save you were attempting, runs straight towards the nearby rose bushes, where Riddle is calmly reading a book.

“Got it!” you yell, trying to recover from your very undignified position. You scramble to your feet and sprint towards the goose, not thinking—absolutely no thoughts—just vibes and feathers.

“STOP THAT GOOSE!” you hear Deuce shout, which only makes you run faster.

But then… things go wrong. Horribly, hilariously wrong.

The goose, in a feat of poultry acrobatics, launches itself directly at Riddle. In a panic, you leap towards them, determined to protect Riddle from the poultry projectile. Unfortunately, in your zeal to save him, you overestimate your athletic prowess, launching yourself way too high and way too fast.

You soar right over the rose bushes. For a brief, glorious moment, you feel like you’re flying. Like Icarus, you’ve flown too close to the sun.

And then gravity kicks in.

You crash into Riddle, knocking his book out of his hands as you both go down in a very undignified heap. Riddle lets out a startled yelp, and you’re pretty sure your entire life flashes before your eyes in that split second.

When the dust settles, you’re on the ground, somehow tangled up with both Riddle and the goose, who looks mildly offended by this whole debacle. You can barely process the pain in your elbow because, oh no—you’ve just tackled Riddle Rosehearts in broad daylight. You’re doomed. Absolutely doomed.

Riddle, red-faced and thoroughly flustered, pushes himself up, brushing stray feathers off his jacket. “What in the world…?”

“I, uh… was trying to help?” you say weakly, still half-sprawled on the ground with the goose now comfortably perched on your back, like some sort of bizarre poultry crown.

Before Riddle can reply, Ace and Deuce finally catch up, breathless and thoroughly amused by the sight before them.

“Nice one!” Ace cackles, doubling over with laughter. “I didn’t think you’d go for the full-on tackle!”

“Yeah, wow,” Deuce adds, clearly struggling to keep a straight face. “Really… really brave of you. Or maybe just… really dumb?”

Cater, meanwhile, is gleefully giggling during the entire thing. "I can’t believe you almost took out Riddle over a goose!” Riddle glares at them, cheeks still a furious shade of pink. “This is not funny. Someone could have been hurt!”

You finally manage to sit up, the goose still somehow perched atop your shoulder. You look up at Riddle, giving him a sheepish grin. “Uh, well… thanks for breaking my fall?”

Riddle huffs, brushing dirt off his sleeves as he stands. “Next time, please consider not risking your life over poultry.”

“Aw, don’t be mad, Riddle,” Cater teases, still giggling. “Our hero here just wanted to protect you from the fierce Goose of Doom!”

Riddle shoots him a glare that could melt ice.

Ace leans over, giving you an exaggerated thumbs-up. “Honestly, this is peak comedy. I can’t wait to see the look on Trey’s face when he hears about this.”

You groan, already feeling the embarrassment sink in. “Just… just help me up, please.”

Riddle offers you a hand, though he still looks like he’s debating whether to scold you or just cry. As he pulls you to your feet, the goose squawks indignantly, finally hopping off your shoulder to strut away, victorious.

“See?” Ace says, still grinning like a fool. “The goose is fine. No harm done.”

“No harm,” Riddle repeats, looking at you with a sigh. “Except perhaps to our dignity.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, your cheeks burning. “Yeah, well, dignity is overrated. At least we caught the goose… eventually.”

Riddle shakes his head, a small smile finally tugging at his lips. “Next time, let’s leave the heroics to someone a little more... suited for it, shall we?”

You nod, rubbing your sore elbow. “Deal. But if that goose comes at you again, I’m not making any promises.”

Riddle just shakes his head, turning away to pick up his book. And he takes your hand and ties a handkerchief around a scratch you didn’t even realize was bleeding. You can still hear the teasing laughs from Ace, Deuce, and Cater echoing in your ears, but you can’t help the grin that tugs at your own lips.

Yeah, you might’ve girlbossed a little too close to the sun today. But at least you made Riddle smile and he held your hand!(kinda) . And, well, the goose is still alive, so there’s that. Small victories.

"System: Quest: Become the Flower of the Ball. Reward: 50 Points"

The system's new quest pops up with a glorious ping—Become the Flower of the Ball. Easy enough, right? Except, of course, your sister has always held that title. The "Flower of the Ball" is not just the prettiest person at the event; it’s the one who commands the room, whose influence and elegance leave everyone talking for weeks. And you? Well, with Cater on your side, you’re about to change that.

First step: rumors. Cater helps you work your way through the gossip circuit like a seasoned pro. With just a few whispered suggestions here and there, you have half the ball convinced that you’ll be arriving in something that will make your sister’s dress look like an afterthought.

Next, your mother—who’s never liked your adopted sister, mainly because of your father's favouritism —does her part by pulling the strings and reserving the best tailor exclusively for you. Your sister? She’s stuck with second-rate options, fuming in the background. By the time you step into the ball, you look absolutely perfect. The dress is a masterpiece of fabric and sparkle, the kind that makes everyone’s heads turn the second you enter.

Cater sneaks by your side as you walk in. "Nailed it, babe," he whispers, giving you a wink. "They're already talking about how your dress makes you look like a literal god."

And indeed, the whispers from the crowd follow you like a wave. Mission accomplished.

Your sister, of course, tries to maintain her usual position of dominance. She’s chosen the 7th male lead as her escort—a decision that reeks of desperation since she couldn't snag a higher-ranked noble. You, meanwhile, had originally planned to attend with Ace and Deuce, they were your closest friends after all, just to keep things low-key. But before you can finalize that plan, Riddle appears, looking composed as ever, and offers you his arm.

"I thought it might be appropriate if you accompanied me," he says with a shy smile. "Since my fiancée has chosen to attend with someone else this evening."

You almost laugh. Of course, she has. She likely thought it would make her look more desirable, but now it's given you a perfect in. Going to the ball with Riddle is about as high-profile as it gets.

Your sister’s eyes widen the moment she sees you walk in with him. Her expression morphs into barely-contained outrage, but before she can say anything, another bomb drops.

Riddle’s mother—stern and poised as always—leans over to one of her confidantes and just loud enough for you and your sister to hear, says, "Well, perhaps this arrangement is for the best. It wouldn’t be surprising if we reconsider the sister for our families’ union."

Cue dramatic gasp.

Your sister’s face twists in horror, while the 7th male lead stands there, visibly confused as to why he’s even part of this drama. "What—what did she mean by that?!" your sister hisses, shooting daggers at you and Riddle.

You smile sweetly. "Oh, who knows? Perhaps she just appreciates my company more."

Before your sister can explode, the Imperial Princess herself enters the fray. Your sister, still seething, is barely holding it together when she steps forward to greet the Princess, but her curtsey is sloppy. The Princess raises an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. "Hmm, interesting technique," she says coldly, her eyes flicking to you with approval as you execute your bow with flawless grace.

Your sister sputters, trying to recover, but it’s too late—the Princess’ interest is already elsewhere. The rest of the ball quickly follows suit, flocking to your side. Riddle, ever the gentleman, offers you a subtle smile as the room begins to orbit around you instead of your sister.

And then, like clockwork, your sister makes yet another blunder. This time, it’s with the cutlery at the dinner table. The 7th male lead awkwardly copies her, both of them managing to insult half the table in the process. You’d almost feel bad, but honestly, they’re making it too easy.

The system, naturally, is having the time of its life. "+25 points: Honestly, this is comedy gold. Extra points for the mess."

You flash a victorious smile, knowing that by the end of the night, you’ll be crowned as the new Flower of the Ball—your sister’s reign well and truly over.

Villain points: 825. 175 points to go.

Riddle wasn't quite sure when it happened. Maybe it had been a gradual realization, building slowly every time he saw you speak your mind with that sharp wit of yours, or maybe it was something that had struck him like a lightning bolt during a moment like this—watching you hold an entire room's attention, bright and confident in your own, distinct way.

You were just so... you. The way you spoke, that glint of mischief in your eyes whenever you were about to say something clever—it was entirely captivating. It was easy to see why people were drawn to you, why they wanted to bask in your energy.

Right now, you were standing near the center of the room, laughing animatedly as you shared some story with your friends. Your expression was full of life, each gesture adding color to your words, your smile lighting up the whole space. Riddle couldn’t help but find his gaze lingering on you, taking in every detail.

And then, out of nowhere, you turned your head, locking eyes with him across the room. For a split second, he felt his breath catch. He should look away, he told himself. But he couldn't. He was rooted in place as you spotted him.

Your face lit up even more—if that was even possible—and you raised your hand, giving him an enthusiastic wave, completely unabashed. There was something so genuine, so utterly you, in that wave. Your arm flailed just a little, and you were smiling so broadly, so openly, that you looked a little silly. But it didn’t matter.

Because, in that moment, Riddle felt something click into place. He might like you. He might like you quite a lot, actually.

Without even thinking, Riddle found himself waving back, a small smile creeping onto his face. He felt warm, a strange fluttering sensation settling in his chest. He probably looked ridiculous, waving with that soft, dazed look in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You gave him a thumbs-up, your grin widening, and Riddle had to stop himself from laughing. His heart was pounding in his chest now, a warmth creeping up his neck, and the realization hit him with startling clarity: you made him feel light. You made him feel... happy, in a way he hadn’t quite understood before.

He might have spent his whole life avoiding this kind of chaos, but when it came to you—when it came to your laughter, your brightness, your way of pulling him into your orbit—Riddle found he didn’t mind the chaos at all.

In fact, he was pretty sure he was completely smitten with it.

"Villain System: New Quest—Humiliate the heroine in front of the heir to the throne, the First Princess. Reward: 100 Villain Points"

You read the message and resist the urge to sigh. Your sister is a piece of work, sure, but the system really seems hellbent on making her your eternal punching bag. But hey, if the system insists… who are you to resist?

As luck would have it, the annual hunt is coming up—an event where the bachelors of the court go off into the woods to prove their worth, while the bachelorettes sit around and gossip like they're at an overpriced brunch. However, this year, the Imperial Princess, renowned master swordswoman and all-around terrifying person, has decided to spice things up by organizing a competition of swordsmanship for the ladies.

Before the hunt and the competition officially start, it's tradition for those not participating in the hunt to present charms to their loved ones—little tokens of affection and support to tie onto their swords before they charge off to slaughter things in the woods. It’s all very romantic, except, of course, when it’s you and your friends.

You've prepared four charms for Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce. Mostly because you know these four will be fighting like it's a matter of life or death (because, let's face it, it’s mostly about showing off at this point), and the least you can do is give them something to remind them not to do anything stupid and die.

You hand them out one by one, and each of them reacts in their own, very predictable way.

Cater takes his with a grin, twirling it between his fingers like it’s a prize from a carnival. "Aw, thanks, bestie! Now I have no choice but to win." He strikes a pose, charm held up as if he’s already envisioning the animal he's gonna get.

Deuce just flushes, taking the charm with both hands as if it's some sacred object. "I, uh, I’ll do my best!" he declares, looking both touched and slightly stressed by the responsibility you’ve just put on him.

Ace rolls his eyes, snatching his charm like you’ve just given him an extra chore. "Ugh, seriously? Now I gotta win for you?" He gives a dramatic sigh, but you can tell he’s secretly proud, especially with the way he ties it onto his sword with a flourish—making sure everyone nearby notices.

Trey, ever the gentleman, accepts his charm with a warm smile, nodding in thanks. "I appreciate it," he says, his tone so sincere you almost feel bad about how unserious the others are. "I'll try to bring back something worthy of this."

You wave them off with a grin. "Just try not to get yourselves killed, alright? I don’t need the guilt."

They nod, though Ace gives you a playful smirk. "No promises, but hey, if I survive, I'll owe you one."

You’re not entirely sure if that’s comforting, but at least they seem motivated... in their own, ridiculous way.

But then comes the surprise: Riddle. Normally, Riddle doesn’t accept charms from anyone. The whole court knows he rejects them all, your sister’s included, and it’s practically common knowledge that they’re engaged.

And yet, as you’re about to turn away, you feel someone tug gently on your sleeve.

You look back, and there’s Riddle, cheeks tinged pink, looking almost… shy? “I… noticed you hadn’t given me a charm,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skips a beat. Riddle? Asking you for a charm? You quickly pull out an extra special one you’d prepared just in case, trying not to look too smug as you hand it over. “Of course, I saved the best for last,” you tease.

He takes it with both hands, his blush deepening, and carefully ties it to his sword. "Thank you," he says, the sincerity in his voice making you feel just a little warm inside.

The time for the competition arrives after they leave and naturally, your sister finds this whole idea beneath her. Women should be "gentle and poised," she says, like she hasn’t spent the last three months practicing how to flutter her eyelashes in just the right way to ensnare the nearest man.

Then she makes a godawful comment. "I'm sure I'm better than everyone here anyways."

The Princess's eye twitches at your sister’s comment, and you can practically smell the impending doom. “Is that so?” she says, voice calm but sharp enough to cut glass. “Then perhaps you’d like to prove it.”

Your sister blinks, feigning innocence. “Oh, but Your Highness, you're a general, a dame, it would hardly be fair—”

“No, no,” you butt in, already feeling the villainous urge rising. You smile sweetly at the Princess, “I’ll do it.”

Your sister’s eyes widen, and you swear you see a flicker of fear. “You?”

“Yes, me.” You roll your wrist casually, like this is nothing. After all, you’ve been secretly training with your mother(a former knight) for weeks. And let’s be real—if you can endure her strict-as-hell lessons without fleeing for your life, your sister stands no chance.

The crowd of onlookers murmurs, excited at the prospect of some royal drama. The Princess smiles approvingly. “Very well. Let���s see what you’re made of.”

The competition begins, and your sister—oh, sweet, naive, overly-confident sister—struts up to the sparring ring like she’s about to breeze through this. She hasn’t even drawn her sword, too busy preening for the audience.

The Princess stands off to the side, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says dryly.

Your sister scoffs, finally drawing her sword with confidence that stems from absolutely nothing tangible.. “This won’t take long.”

It really doesn’t.

You sidestep her first swing with ease, and she fumbles, her balance thrown off. She’s clearly never sparred against anyone with any actual skill, and it shows. You suppress a laugh, offering her a mockingly sweet smile. “Having trouble?”

Her face flushes with anger, and she lunges again, this time with less grace and more brute force. You parry her strike effortlessly, spinning around her and tapping her shoulder lightly with your blade. “Point.”

The crowd gasps, and you can practically feel Riddle’s mother watching you with approval from her seat. Your sister glares at you, red-faced and flustered. “That was just luck,” she hisses.

“Sure,” you reply, twirling your sword for added flair. “Let’s see if your luck improves.”

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

By the end of the match, your sister is out of breath, red-faced, and thoroughly humiliated. You, on the other hand, haven’t even broken a sweat. The Princess claps her hands together, beaming. “Well done! I think that settles the matter.”

Your sister looks like she’s about to cry, and you can’t resist twisting the knife just a little. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before insulting women who actually know how to use a sword.”

The Princess snorts.

By the time the bachelors return from the hunt, everyone’s gathered around to see who brought back the biggest game. As expected, Ace and Deuce present their game to you: They’d both managed to snag huge wolves—both proud and slightly smug. Cater hands you his deer with a wink and a grin. Even Trey, with his calm composure, looks pleased as he hands over his bear.

And then, to everyone’s shock, Riddle approaches. He’s carrying what is clearly the biggest game of the day,a bear and a lion, and as he presents it to you, the whole crowd falls silent.

Your sister looks absolutely mortified. The other male leads, meanwhile, are either empty-handed or have brought back something pathetically small in comparison—a rabbit here, a pheasant there. But Riddle? Riddle has the prize catch, and he’s offering it to you, her sister who just humiliated her in front of the entire royal court.

The center of attention, you smile graciously as you accept the game, thanking him softly. The crowd erupts into whispers, all eyes on you and Riddle. Your sister looks like she wants to crawl into a hole and disappear, and you can’t help but feel just a little triumphant.

Meanwhile, the system chimes in:

"Villain System: Quest complete! 100 Villain Points awarded"

"Villain System: Bonus reward! 50 Villain Points awarded.

System: I wasn’t expecting you to charm all of the top hunters into giving you their game… but hey, overachieving is such a villainous trait. Well done."

You nearly roll your eyes at the system’s snarky tone. Of course it would reward you for accidentally out-villaining yourself. But hey, who’s going to complain about extra points?

Villain points: 975. 25 points to go, you're so close.

It was a peaceful afternoon in the garden, one of those rare moments where you and Riddle had a quiet space to just… exist. He was sitting across from you, his face slightly softened from its usual stern expression. The hedgehogs nearby were doing hedgehog things, oblivious to the world.

"I suppose it’s something I don’t talk about often," Riddle started, his voice softer than usual, like he was letting you into a part of himself he kept locked away. "My mother was strict—is strict. Everything had to be perfect. The rules, the grades, my behavior… there was no room for failure. Not even a sliver."

You nodded, already knowing this story from your countless hours reading the webnovel. But hearing it from him directly? It hit differently.

"I wasn't allowed to have friends or play outside. My entire childhood was about memorizing rules and doing things perfectly," he continued. His eyes stayed on the hedgehogs, but his expression grew distant, lost in the painful memories. "Every mistake I made was a punishment… every misstep was a disappointment."

You could feel the lump forming in your throat. Here it comes. The part that always got you while reading.

"But the worst part," Riddle whispered, his voice almost cracking, "was that I started to believe I wasn’t good enough… not for her, not for anyone."

That was it. The dam broke.

You tried to keep it together—you really did—but the sheer weight of Riddle’s story, the pain in his voice, it hit you like a sledgehammer to the chest. You started sniffling. And then… it escalated.

You’re not just crying; you’re ugly crying. We’re talking snot, hiccups, the whole I-will-not-survive-this package.

And then, in between gasps, you suddenly blurt out, "I swear... I SWEAR, I’ll get revenge for you! No one will survive my wrath!" You shake your fist to the sky like you’re about to start a one-person war against his emotionally distant mother.

Riddle looks at you, eyes wide with shock. He hadn’t expected this. No one had. Not even you.

"Are you… are you crying?" he asked, sounding both bewildered and concerned, because let’s face it, you were making sounds that weren’t even human anymore. Somewhere between a hiccup, a wail, and a seal being slapped.

"Y-YES!" you sobbed, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt, which didn’t help because now you just had tear-streaked sleeves and a snotty nose. "IT'S SO SAD!"

Riddle blinked, completely caught off-guard. “It’s… it’s not that—”

By this point, you were full-on hysterical, tears streaming down your face as you flailed around in righteous fury. Riddle just sat there, completely overwhelmed. He had expected maybe a few words of sympathy, a comforting pat on the shoulder. What he hadn't expected was for you to declare full-scale emotional war on his behalf.

Riddle, for his part, was speechless. And also… redder than his hair.

He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat awkwardly. "I… appreciate the sentiment, but—"

"No, Riddle!" you cut him off, wiping your nose aggressively with your sleeve again. "You deserve someone who loves you without conditions! And I’m going to make sure the world knows it!" You stood up dramatically, only to trip over a rock, stumble, and fall back into your seat. "Ow."

Riddle, despite the chaos, couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle at your sheer determination—and the fact that you were still crying while swearing vengeance. It was… endearing, in a very chaotic, unpredictable way.

You, however, were still in your feelings. "I can’t believe your mom! I’m—sniffle—gonna burn her rulebook. Watch me."

Riddle, who had started the conversation with the intention of sharing something personal, now found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions he didn’t know how to handle. But… somehow, through your teary declarations of revenge and your intense empathy, he couldn’t help but feel something stir inside him.

He looked at you—your face blotchy, your eyes puffy, your determination unwavering despite the fact that you were an absolute mess—and he realized that you weren’t crying just because you felt bad. You were crying because you cared. Like, really cared.

His heart skipped a beat. Maybe… maybe you were the kind of person who could see past all his rules and expectations and just—feel for him. No judgment. Just empathy.

"I… I didn’t realize it would make you so upset," he said quietly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. "But thank you. Really."

Through your sniffling, you managed to nod and offer a watery smile. "It’s not fair. You deserve better, Riddle. I mean it."

And with that, Riddle found himself falling just a little harder for you—ugly crying and all.

It’s a regular afternoon tea party, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and your sister is… making out with the eighth male lead in broad daylight behind a rose bush.

Ah. Classy.

You had only wandered over to sneak a mini éclair when you caught them. What’s worse is they weren’t even being subtle—like, they might as well have put up a sign that says, “We’re Ruining Our Reputations Here.”

Shocked beyond measure, you accidentally let out the loudest and most undignified gasp. It’s so loud that the entire tea party freezes mid-sip. Cups stop midair, all eyes turn to you like you’ve just declared war on the empire.

“Did someone choke on a scone?” Trey asks, concerned, already standing to assess the pastry crisis.

You try to subtly redirect everyone’s attention back to their tea, but it’s too late. The damage is done. The Imperial Princess, the Empress, the First Prince, the Emperor, Riddle, your parents, Trey, Cater, Ace, Deuce, and Riddle’s mom—all eyes are now locked on you and the unfortunate scene happening behind you.

Your sister and the eighth male lead pop their heads out of the bushes like deer caught in headlights, looking horrified. The heroine, of course, immediately bursts into tears. “I can’t believe you! How could you ruin my private moment!” she wails, mascara already running.

You blink. "Private? You were basically holding auditions for 'Romeo and Juliet' in front of the entire garden."

"Enough!" The Empress's voice cuts through the chaos like a sword. She glares at your sister, then glances at you for an explanation. You're about to open your mouth when—

"An outrage!" The Imperial Princess thunders, stepping forward with the grace of a tiger ready to pounce. "Is this what passes for decorum these days?"

Before you can even begin to process the incoming storm, your sister points her trembling finger at you. “It’s her fault! She—She’s been plotting against me this whole time! She wanted to embarrass me!”

You raise an eyebrow, utterly deadpan. “By forcing you to lock lips with the eighth male lead in broad daylight? Wow, my plans are so intricate even I don’t understand them anymore.”

Ace is snickering so loudly into his teacup that he’s shaking, and Deuce is doing his best to hold back tears of laughter. Cater’s trying to stay neutral, but even he’s got a lopsided grin.

Riddle, on the other hand, looks like he’s trying to create a new spell that will instantly smite him while his mother… well, his mother seems like she’s gonna cut someone.

Riddle’s mom, the always composed Lady Rosehearts, steps forward, glancing at your sister with such a cold expression that you could swear the temperature drops five degrees. “This engagement," she begins icily, "will not proceed. If there is to be any union between our families, it will be with someone more appropriate." She then turns her gaze to you. “Someone like you.”

Cue a choking noise from Riddle, who looks ready to faint on the spot. His cheeks turn red as he stares wide-eyed at his mother, clearly having not expected this. Trey’s eyes widen too, but he quickly coughs into his fist to hide a smirk. Ace elbows Deuce with barely concealed glee.

“U-Um, Mother?” Riddle manages to stutter out. “What… what do you mean?”

His mother gives him a rather smug look, clearly having already made up her mind. “I mean that if this union is to benefit both families, it would be much more suitable for you to marry someone with intelligence, grace, and… a bit of common sense. Someone who hasn’t made a public fool of themselves.” Her eyes drift back to your sister, who is now dramatically sobbing into her hands.

Your father looks like he’s just been hit by a runaway carriage, staring in horror at the scene unfolding before him. “Lady Rosehearts—surely this is a misunderstanding—”

Riddle’s mom raises a hand. “If there is to be any marriage, it will be between my son and your younger daughter. Or,” she adds sharply, “there will be no marriage at all.”

You stand there, blinking at the whirlwind you just caused by gasping too loudly at your sister’s terrible decision-making skills. You glance at your mom, who has her face buried in her hands. But when she peeks through her fingers, you see the slight glint of satisfaction in her eyes. She’s pretending to be scandalized, but deep down… she’s absolutely living for this. You know she's elated that you got your guy.

The Emperor himself clears his throat, trying to restore order to the royal circus. “Well, this is… unprecedented,” he says, diplomatically, though there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, like he’s holding back laughter.

Your sister, meanwhile, continues her sobbing performance, practically flinging herself into your father’s arms. “Papa, how can they treat me like this?! You always told me I’m the heroine!”

You try to hide your grin. “Heroine of a tragedy, maybe.”

“Enough!” Your father groans, looking utterly defeated. “You’ve done enough damage, girl.”

Riddle reluctantly speaks up. “I… I suppose Mother has made her decision.” His voice wavers a bit, and for a moment, he seems like he might collapse under the weight of all this sudden attention. But then, his eyes meet yours. And despite the chaos, despite his mortification, there’s a small, shy smile on his face.

“You,” he begins hesitantly, “you wouldn’t… mind this arrangement, would you?”

You laugh softly, glancing at the ridiculous mess that was this tea party. “Honestly? I'm quite fond of you so, why not?”

Ace lets out a snort of laughter, while Cater gives you a double thumbs-up from across the table. Trey just smiles warmly, giving you an approving nod. Even Lady Rosehearts looks somewhat satisfied.

The system, not one to miss an opportunity, dings in your head again.

"Villain System: New achievement unlocked! Engagement broken! Also… bonus points for making a royal spectacle of it. 100 Villain Points awarded."

With this, you're free from the system. Maybe it's time to retire your villain act.

You nearly burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all. But for now, you simply give Riddle a small, reassuring smile.

“Well,” you say, “guess we’ve got some wedding planning to do.”

It was a grand banquet, the kind where you could practically smell the prestige in the air. The Imperial Family was seated at the head of the table, all regal in their elegance. You were just trying not to trip over your own shoes and embarrass yourself in front of the Empress again.

Riddle, of course, was the epitome of decorum. Every movement was precise, every word carefully measured. Until—just as he went to refill the First Prince’s wine glass—his hand slipped ever so slightly. The tiniest splash of wine splattered onto the pristine tablecloth. It was so small you would’ve missed it if you weren’t watching him so intently.

But Riddle noticed. Oh, did he notice.

His face immediately paled like he’d just seen a ghost wearing polka dots, and his eyes darted across the table to where his mother sat. Lady Rosehearts was blissfully unaware, engaged in conversation with the Emperor, but Riddle looked like he was about to meet his maker.

You could almost hear his internal screams.

To anyone else, it was a non-event. But to Riddle, this was a catastrophe of the highest order. You could practically feel him sweating next to you, despite his rigid posture.

Time to act.

“Oh no!” You gasp dramatically, standing up and pointing directly at yourself. “I can’t believe I just did that!”

Everyone at the table stopped and stared, clearly wondering what on earth you were talking about. Even the Empress raised an eyebrow, a mix of confusion and mild amusement flickering on her face.

Riddle blinked, looking at you like you had just spontaneously grown a second head. “What…?”

You plopped down a napkin over the tiny splash of wine, covering the evidence. “I—I accidentally knocked the bottle when Riddle was pouring!” you announce loudly, offering a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry, Your Highnesses. How embarrassing.”

The Empress smiled indulgently. “It’s quite all right, dear. Such things happen.”

Lady Rosehearts glanced over at the napkin-covered spot and frowned slightly, but then she looked back to you and said, “No harm done.”

Meanwhile, Riddle’s face was a mix of confusion, shock, and—was that gratitude? He blinked again, still processing what just happened. His mother hadn’t even glanced at him in disapproval, and now you were taking the fall for a spill no one really noticed.

As the conversation around the table resumed, Riddle leaned in close, whispering under his breath, “Why would you do that?”

You grinned and shrugged. “Because I’ve got a heart of gold, obviously. And I quite like you, you know”

Before Riddle could respond, Ace, who had been watching the whole debacle with barely restrained glee, leaned over from his spot across the table. “You’re down so horrendously,” he said, just loud enough for you and Riddle to hear.

You shot him a look. “You’re just mad you don’t have someone as gracious as me taking the fall for you”

Ace wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe, but at least I don’t go taking the fall for my fiancé before we’re even married.”

Riddle flushed a bright red. “I—I—this isn’t—”

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “You know, Ace, sometimes you just have to be a hero.”

“Sure, ‘hero,’” Cater chimed in, leaning in on the action with a smirk. “Or, you know, simp of the year.”

Riddle, still flustered, shoots both of them a glare, but you can tell he’s secretly relieved. The impending doom of his mother’s wrath was averted, all thanks to your impromptu performance.

With a small sigh, he finally mutters, “Thank you,” so softly you almost miss it.

You give him a wink and lean back in your chair, feeling pretty pleased with yourself. “Anytime, partner.”

Ace nudges Deuce. “You think we should get them ‘World’s Greatest Simp’ matching mugs for the wedding?”

Deuce shrugs. “I think it’d be cute.”

Riddle buries his face in his hands. "Please, spare me."

But the corners of his mouth are lifting, just slightly.

It happened when you decided to climb the academy's tallest tree. It was a brilliant idea in your mind—after all, you’d just spotted an adorable sparrow nest precariously hanging from one of the highest branches. Rescue mission mode engaged.

The execution? Less brilliant.

You were halfway up, dangling from a particularly wobbly branch, when you heard a very familiar voice calling your name from below.

“WHAT are you doing?” Riddle’s voice was half exasperated, half astonished.

You looked down (mistake) and saw Riddle, arms crossed, staring at you with a mix of bewilderment and that very specific “You’re in trouble” look he usually reserved for rule-breaking.

“I—uh,” you stammered, “I’m saving the sparrows?”

There was a long pause. Riddle blinked. “You climbed that tree for sparrows?”

“Look, I know it’s a bit—”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Riddle interrupted, running a hand down his face. “Do you even have a plan for getting down?”

“...I’ll figure that out later?”

Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Of course you will.”

By some miracle (or the sheer force of your chaotic will), you managed to secure the sparrow nest and shimmy your way down without falling to your doom. As soon as your feet hit the ground, you triumphantly held the nest up, smiling wide.

“See? Mission accomplished!”

Riddle just stared at you, mouth slightly open, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, out of nowhere, he laughed—a soft, bewildered laugh that grew louder the more he looked at you, dirt-covered and grinning like an idiot.

“You…” he started, shaking his head with a small, fond smile, “You’re such an idiot.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. “I—hey!”

“No, really,” he continued, stepping closer, eyes full of amusement. “You’re reckless and absurd and you do things like climbing trees to save sparrows and covering for me in front of the imperial family without thinking it through.”

You frowned, feeling a bit defensive. “Well, someone has to—”

“And yet…” His voice softened, and suddenly he was close, much closer than you expected. His gaze locked onto yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “And yet… I don’t think I could imagine my life without you.”

Your brain took a second to catch up. “Wait, what?”

Riddle took a breath, as if bracing himself, and then met your eyes with the most serious expression you’d ever seen on him. “I’m saying that I—” he hesitated, his cheeks turning pink, but his voice was steady, “I’m in love with you.”

You stood there, stunned, staring at him in complete disbelief. Riddle Rosehearts just confessed his love to you.

“…Even after all the dumb stuff?” you asked, still processing.

Riddle laughed again, that soft, endearing laugh that made your heart flip. “Especially after all the dumb stuff.”

There was a beat of silence where you just stared at each other, and for once, your usually silly brain kicked into overdrive. You stepped closer, leaning in with a sudden smoothness you didn’t even know you were capable of.

“Well,” you said, your voice dropping to a low murmur as you tilted your head toward him, “lucky for you… I’m your idiot.”

And before Riddle could even respond, you kissed him.

It was soft, and sweet, and everything perfect. For a moment, Riddle was so surprised he froze, but then he melted into it, his hand gently cupping your face like he’d been waiting forever to do this.

When you pulled back, Riddle was completely flustered, his face red as a tomato, but there was a dazed smile on his lips. “That… That was unfair.”

You grinned, leaning your forehead against his. “You love it.”

Riddle shook his head, still smiling. “I really do.”

And from that moment on, it was clear: you may be the academy’s resident chaos agent, but you were his chaos agent, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You finally got a private moment to yourself. It was time to say goodbye to the villain system that you may or may not have gotten fond of.

The notification flashed across your vision, blindingly bright:

[Congratulations! You’ve accumulated enough points to finally say goodbye to the system.]

You blinked. "Wait… really? I can finally get rid of you?"

[Yes. It’s been a wild ride, hasn’t it?]

Wild ride was an understatement. The system had dragged you through schemes, quests, and enough drama to fill a ten-season TV show, all for the purpose of toppling your sister's reign of terror. And now, at long last, you were free.

"...So that's it?" you asked. "No final boss fight? No sudden plot twist where you take over my body and reveal you’re the real villain?"

There was a pause before the next notification popped up.

[Actually... about that plot twist...]

You groaned. "I knew it. What is it this time? Are you an evil AI? A demon? Oh God, please tell me you’re not my fairy godmother in disguise."

[I’m… actually the original villainess.]

You stared at the screen for a solid five seconds. "...What."

[Yeah. You, uh, you kinda possessed me.]

You blinked rapidly, your brain short-circuiting. "WHAT?!"

[I was the original villainess of this world. The real one. You didn’t just get isekai’d into some random character. You got me, because I wanted you]

"Oh my God," you muttered. "You’ve been here the whole time?"

[Yup. Watching you fumble around like an idiot. No offense.]

"None taken, but wow—uh, okay," you said, rubbing your forehead. "So I’ve just been… helping you take revenge on your sister this whole time?"

[Well, duh.] The system sounded almost smug. [She tormented me horrifically when I was still alive. That’s why I pushed you to make her life miserable. I wanted justice.]

"Justice," you repeated, thinking back to all the chaos, sabotage, and general insanity. "That was justice?"

[Look, we both know she deserved it.]

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. "I mean, fair. So what now? You just leave?"

There was a long pause before the system replied.

[Well... you actually have more points than you need. You can buy my identity if you want. Get the full story. You know, if you're curious.]

You hesitated for a second, but then shrugged. "Eh, why not. Hit me with it."

The system pinged, and suddenly, memories flooded your mind—her memories. You saw everything: her upbringing, her struggles, how she had tried so hard to be perfect for her family, only for her sister to constantly outshine her. You saw the cruel way her sister belittled her, humiliated her in front of the court, all while smiling sweetly to the outside world.

And then… the tragic ending, where the villainess was cast aside, labeled a monster, and killed.

By the end of it, you felt like you’d been punched in the gut.

"Oh, wow," you whispered. "She really was awful to you."

[Told you.]

"Man… I’m so sorry," you said, your voice softening. "You went through all that, and then you ended up stuck with me."

[Honestly? It was kinda fun watching you screw up everything at first.] The system’s tone was teasing now, but there was an undeniable warmth underneath it. [But you did a good job. Better than I ever did. You were a little unhinged, but hey, that’s probably why I liked you.]

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks, I guess? I tried my best."

[You did more than that.] There was a strange fondness in the system’s voice. [You turned this whole world upside down. You made people laugh, cry, and probably question their sanity. Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better revenge.]

For a moment, you felt a lump form in your throat. "So… what now? Do you just disappear?"

[Yeah. It’s time for me to move on. But… hey, I’m rooting for you. Go live your best life. Be happy. And if you ever need to knock your sister down a peg, do it in style. For me.]

You smiled, blinking away the sudden wetness in your eyes. "You bet I will. And hey—wherever you go, I hope you get to relax for once. You deserve it."

[Pfft, I doubt it, but thanks.]

There was a brief pause, then another notification popped up.

[Goodbye, little reader. It’s been real. And remember—always aim for the drama. It makes life more interesting.]

With that, the screen dimmed, and the system was gone.

You stared at the empty space where the notifications used to be. "Aim for the drama, huh?" you muttered, a grin tugging at your lips. "Well, I guess that’s one thing I’m good at."

As you turned around, ready to move forward without the system hovering over

you, you felt something. A strange, gentle sensation, like the faintest brush of a breeze, except it wasn’t just that. It was warmer, more personal, and… oddly comforting.

It took a second, but then it hit you. "Wait—"

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Was this—?

It was as if the original villainess was giving you a ghostly hug. Soft, delicate, but so real you could almost feel her presence.

Tears welled up in your eyes, completely out of nowhere. You weren’t supposed to feel emotional! Not over a system—no, not just a system—a person who had suffered more than you ever realized.

"I… I’m sorry I couldn’t fix everything for you," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I tried, I really did, but…"

You felt that warmth grow a little stronger, like she was reassuring you, telling you that you had done enough. More than enough. Maybe, in a way, you’d freed her. Given her peace.

The weight of that ghostly embrace made your heart swell, and before you could stop yourself, you started crying. Again. But not the ugly, chaotic crying from before—this was softer, deeper. The kind of crying that cleansed your soul.

"I’ll do it," you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. "I’ll finish what I started. I’ll take her down. Not just for me—but for you."

The presence seemed to linger for a moment longer, and then it was gone, leaving behind a quiet strength in its place.

You wiped your eyes, steeling yourself. The resolution hardened in your chest like iron. Everything you had been planning, all the revenge, the chaos you had been orchestrating, it wasn’t just some game anymore. It was personal.

For her.

With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and looked out toward the path ahead, a fire burning brighter than ever inside you.

"I’ll finish this," you muttered, fists clenching. "And it’s going to be beautiful."

And with that, you walked forward, no longer just a reader in someone else’s story.

This time, you were the one in control.

The day of your wedding to Riddle was perfect. Every detail was as if the universe had conspired to make sure nothing went wrong. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, and laughter echoed throughout the grand venue. Your friends were all there, supporting you—Ace and Deuce bickering over who looked better in their suits, Cater contantly checking if everything was aesthetically pleasing, and Trey managing everything behind the scenes with his usual calm, though you caught him grinning at you more than once, proud as ever. Even Che'nya had shown up, popping in and out of sight as he pleased, throwing teasing remarks at anyone who passed by.

Your sister, however, was absolutely seething. She stood stiffly, dressed impeccably, but with a scowl that could burn down the entire venue. You knew she was fuming because she had always imagined herself in your place, standing beside Riddle. Too bad for her—you had the upper hand now.

You glanced at her briefly as you passed by, a wicked smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face here. I almost admire it,” you whispered sweetly as you walked past her, arm in arm with Riddle.

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could get a word out, you tossed one last barb. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to toss my bouquet to you. Maybe you'll get married next? You know, if they can find someone that can stand you?”

Riddle squeezed your hand as if to remind you to behave, but even he had a hint of a smirk on his face. Your friends snickered behind you, and Che'nya, perched casually on a railing, added a quiet, “Oof, that’s gotta sting.”

The ceremony itself was beautiful. Riddle stood there looking like he’d stepped out of a fairytale, his usually stern face softened by the moment. As you exchanged vows, there was a lightness to the air that made everything feel surreal. You could see how much he cared in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he held yours.

Ace, unable to help himself, whispered loudly, “You sure Riddle isn’t going to pass out from the nerves?”

Deuce elbowed him, but you could barely hold back a laugh. Even Riddle blushed a bit, shooting a glare at Ace but unable to hide his own amusement.

When it was time for the reception, the fun really kicked off. Che'nya gave a surprisingly emotional speech—well, for him at least, as he vanished mid-sentence and then reappeared to finish his speech. Trey quietly made sure everything ran smoothly, even sneaking a slice of cake for you before the official cake-cutting, while Ace and Deuce took over the dance floor with some wild moves that had everyone laughing. Cater even got caught spiking the drinks and you couldn't help but laugh.

After the wedding, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden light over the celebration. Everything had gone smoothly, almost too smoothly. Even Riddle’s mother, who was notoriously hard to please, had remained poised and polite throughout. But you knew there was still unfinished business, and the weight of it settled heavily on your chest.

You’d seen the way she treated Riddle for years—through the pages of the webnovel and now, up close. Sure, she liked you, had even hinted at being pleased with your match to Riddle, but that didn’t erase the years of pressure and manipulation she had placed on him. The burden he had carried because of her was too great to ignore, and today, of all days, you were not going to let it slide.

You spotted her near the garden fountain, quietly observing the festivities. For a moment, she looked almost serene, her icy exterior softened by the beautiful day. But that didn’t change how you felt.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over. "Lady Rosehearts," you began, your voice steady but laced with unspoken tension.

She turned to you, a smile on her lips. "Ah, my dear. You were magnificent today. Truly the picture of grace and elegance. I couldn't have asked for a better match for my son."

Her words were warm, genuine even, but they only fueled the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t respond right away, just stared at her, waiting for the right moment to unleash what you’d been holding in.

Finally, you spoke, your voice low. "I appreciate your kind words, but there’s something I can’t let go of." You stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "For years, you’ve pushed Riddle to be perfect. You suffocated him with your expectations, and it hurt him. I can’t stand by and let you pretend that didn’t happen."

Lady Rosehearts blinked, caught off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but you held up a hand.

"You like me, and I’m grateful for that, but I love Riddle." Your voice wavered, not with fear, but with emotion. "And because I love him, I can’t ignore the damage you’ve caused. The pressure you put on him to be someone he wasn’t. The way you never let him breathe. You may have done it out of love, but it hurt him."

She stared at you, the weight of your words sinking in. There was no immediate defense, no cold dismissal. She simply looked… surprised.

"I…" she began, but faltered. "I thought I was doing what was best for him. I wanted him to succeed, to be respected."

"But at what cost?" you snapped, unable to hold back the edge in your voice. "You wanted him to be respected so much that you never let him make his own choices. He deserves to be happy. And he deserves your respect, not just as your son, but as a person."

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. You could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, she hadn’t done as well by Riddle as she thought.

Before she could respond, Riddle appeared beside you, having noticed the tension from across the garden. He stood tall, his usual calm demeanor in place, but you could sense the vulnerability beneath it.

"Mother," he said quietly, his voice steady but with a new strength behind it. "She’s right."

His mother turned to him, the surprise evident on her face. "Riddle…"

"I know you wanted the best for me. I know you love me. But I needed more than just discipline and expectations. I needed to know that it was okay to be myself. To fail, even." He paused, and his eyes softened. "I love you, Mother. But you have to let me live my life. I’m not a perfect image for you to sculpt."

The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken words. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction, unsure of what to expect. You had always imagined her to be unmovable, too set in her ways to ever change.

But then, her expression softened. She took a step toward Riddle, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "I… didn’t realize. I thought I was protecting you. But I see now that I may have been too harsh, too controlling." She paused, her gaze shifting between you and Riddle. "You’re right. Both of you. And I am truly sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in her voice. This was not the cold, unyielding woman you had expected. There was genuine remorse in her eyes.

She turned to you, her tone softer. "Thank you. For helping him find his way. And for standing by his side."

For a moment, the three of you stood there, the weight of years of tension slowly lifting. It wasn’t a perfect resolution—years of damage couldn’t be erased with one conversation—but it was a start.You sighed, the anger that had been simmering inside you finally ebbing away. "I only did what anyone who loves him would do," you said, glancing at Riddle with a soft smile.

Riddle’s mother nodded, and though her usual composure was still in place, there was a warmth in her expression that you hadn’t seen before. "Then I’m glad he found someone like you." But you saw her expression crack a little and so did Riddle.

Then, Riddle, ever the perfect son, stepped forward. "Mother, it’s alright." His voice was soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t often seen. He reached out and offered her something you never expected—a hug.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she stepped into his embrace, her arms wrapping tightly around him. It was quiet, emotional, and—before you knew it—you were also pulled into it.

The warmth of the group hug surrounded you, Riddle’s mother surprisingly holding you a little tighter than you expected, as if silently acknowledging the forgiveness Riddle was able to give because of your presence by his side.

She then pulled away, wiped her tears and wiped the tears that you didn't realize were falling from your eyes either. "Congratulations, again, I'm proud of you both" was all she said as she turned to leave.

As she stepped away, leaving you and Riddle alone in the garden, you let out a long breath, feeling a sense of closure you hadn’t expected.

Riddle turned to you, his expression soft and full of gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For standing up for me. For everything."

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, remember?"

He squeezed your hand gently, his usual stoic expression melting away into something softer, more vulnerable. "I know. And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

From across the garden, you saw Trey and Che'nya watching, Trey giving a subtle nod of approval, while Che'nya grinned, undoubtedly waiting to pounce with some teasing remark later.

But for now, you just stood there with Riddle, the weight of the day finally settling in. You’d won—both the battle for his heart and the battle for his freedom. And in that moment, everything felt right.

The courtroom was packed, filled with nobles from all across the empire. This was the moment you’d been waiting for, orchestrated with the help of your closest friends: Trey’s calm, methodical planning, Cater’s relentless information gathering, Ace and Deuce’s enthusiasm (and occasional chaos), and, of course, Riddle, who stood by your side, his presence a steady reassurance.

Your sister stood at the center of attention, oblivious to the storm about to hit. For years, she had manipulated and destroyed anyone who dared stand in her way. She thought she was untouchable, the darling of the nobility, admired and respected. But you knew the truth, and so did everyone in this room, thanks to the carefully gathered evidence that was about to expose her for the monster she was.

Cater had planted seeds of the truth you found out that grew into full-fledged whispers about your sister’s darker deeds. Even now, the tension in the room was palpable as people murmured, casting glances her way.

You stepped forward, the letter you held clutched tightly in your hand. Riddle gave you a small nod of encouragement, his eyes steely as he took his place beside you.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you began, your voice clear and sharp, cutting through the room's murmurs. "I come to you today not with accusations, but with the truth. The truth of the heinous crimes committed by my sister."

There was a gasp from the crowd, the air thick with shock and intrigue. Your sister's face remained calm, but you saw the flicker of worry in her eyes.

"She has embezzled from the kingdom’s treasury, siphoning off funds meant for the empire's welfare," you declared, holding up the documents that Trey had meticulously helped you gather. "She has blackmailed noble families into silence, using threats and false accusations to maintain her hold over them. And worst of all—"

You paused, letting the tension build as you cast your gaze over the room, making sure every pair of eyes was locked on you. Then, with quiet, deliberate force, you spoke.

"She has been responsible for the poisoning of the emperor’s own cousin, Lady Astoria. A death that was pinned on an innocent maid."

The room exploded into chaos, gasps, and shouts of disbelief filling the air. Your sister’s face drained of color, her facade finally cracking as people turned toward her, expressions of shock and outrage growing with every second.

"These documents prove every crime," you continued, your voice strong and unwavering as Cater passed around copies of the evidence to the nobles. "She thought she could keep her secrets buried. But not anymore."

"These are lies!" your sister shrieked, her voice desperate as she clutched at the air, trying to regain control. "This is a setup! You’ve all been deceived!"

But it was too late. The emperor himself stood up, his eyes narrowing in fury as he glanced over the evidence. The knight commander beside him was already moving, her sword drawn as the guards approached your sister.

"For your crimes against the empire, you are sentenced to death," the emperor declared, his voice cold and final.

Your sister screamed, fighting as the guards seized her, but there was no escape now. The nobles who once fawned over her turned away in disgust, her power crumbling in mere moments.

Riddle’s hand found yours, his grip tight but comforting as you watched her dragged away. It should’ve felt sweet, but instead, you felt a strange heaviness settle in your chest. This was the end, wasn’t it?

As the execution was carried out in the courtyard, the crowd watching with bated breath, you stood off to the side, Riddle at your side, and your friends close by. Ace whispered some snide comment about how dramatic everything was, and Deuce elbowed him to shut up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

When it was over, the finality of it hit you like a truck. You had done it—exposed her to the world, avenged not just yourself, but the original villainess too. You expected to feel victorious, but instead, a deep sadness settled in your chest. She should've been the one to see this.

And then, just as you were about to turn away, you saw her.

A faint, ethereal figure stood near the edge of the courtyard. The original villainess. Her eyes were softer than you imagined, her expression free of the bitterness that had fueled her desire for revenge. She looked… peaceful.

Tears welled in your eyes, and before you knew it, you were crying, really crying. Ugly, messy sobs that you couldn’t control. All the rage, all the sorrow, everything you had carried from her spilled out in that moment.

"I did it," you whispered, barely audible, but you knew she heard you. "I did it for you."

The specter of the original villainess smiled, a soft, almost sisterly expression on her face. And then, in a moment that almost felt too surreal, you felt her—felt her give you a final ghostly embrace. It was as if the weight of her vengeance had lifted, her spirit no longer bound by the chains of hatred. She was free now, and so were you.

With a final nod, the specter faded into the night, leaving you standing there, tears streaming down your face. You wiped them away as best as you could, sniffling and trying to compose yourself, but the lump in your throat remained.

The warmth of the original villainess's hug lingered long after she faded, her presence now a bittersweet memory. You stood in the quiet, feeling an overwhelming sense of both loss and completion. For the first time, it felt like the weight of both your lives had lifted.

Then, a soft flutter of wings caught your attention. A small dove descended gently, perching on your shoulder. It was so light, so delicate, and for a moment, it just sat there, as if offering comfort. You held your breath, watching it. The dove turned its head toward you, as though it knew. As though she knew.

You blinked, tears pooling in your eyes again as the dove gave a soft coo and flew away, soaring into the sky. Something inside you broke at the sight—something that had been held together for too long. The tears came harder now, not out of sorrow, but of release.

"She's free…" you whispered, your voice trembling. "She's finally free."

Your chest heaved with emotion, sobs you couldn’t control spilling out as you watched the dove disappear into the distance. All this time, everything you had done, every struggle, every sacrifice, was for her. And now, it was over.

Riddle turned toward you, concern flickering in his eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears. "Yeah… yeah, I am. It’s just—" You paused, looking up at the sky. "My sister’s gone now. And I think… I'm at peace."

Riddle stood beside you, his own heart heavy with the weight of your emotions. Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms. His embrace was soft but firm, grounding you when you felt like you might fall apart.

Riddle’s grip on your hand tightened, and when you looked at him, there was something unspoken in his gaze—understanding, maybe. "You did what was right," he said softly. "And now it’s over."

You took a deep breath and nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah. Now it’s over."

With Riddle by your side, and your friends waiting for you just beyond the courtyard, you knew that the hardest part was behind you. You had avenged the original villainess, exposed your sister for what she truly was, and now, finally, you could walk away from all of it.

Riddle leaned closer, his voice gentle but filled with quiet strength. "Come on. Let’s go."

Together, hand in hand, you turned away from the past and walked toward the future—your future—with the love of your life, your husband, Riddle, by your side.

Boy, was this a ride to write, but i genuinely haven't had this much fun writing before, and it got longer as i went.

For the next Trashy Novel Chronicles, which twst char would you like to see? I have a few plots planned for these, I'll eventually write them both but which one do y'all wanna see first?

Series Masterlist ; My Masterlists

[sapphiccup]

Lap dancing on Sevika.

Credits: @honeyboo-1 for the edited pics, @strangergraphics for dividers!

CONTENTWARNING: MDNI!!! Cis Men dni, NSFW AHEAD! Sevika x reader quick drabble I think?, dominant/switch reader, switch Sevika, MAYBE doing the do with feelings maybe toys… the anality kind. Lots of smacking, back talk, more, if miss anything so be it. I DID NOT PROOF READ THIS! I genuinely just typed this in here and like I don’t even want to risk to deleting a paragraph on accident. Orange highlights are the lyrics from the songs. Okay enjoy.

Summary: Reader just felt like entertaining her girlfriend to a song she absolutely loves. Sevika tries her best to resist from turning into something else but does she fail? Idk, lets find out.

Song: Lowkey by Teyana Taylor ft, Erykah Badu💌🎼

Slipping your heel on, checking yourself out in the mirror, knowing fully well. Sevika is going to lose her shit, when she sees me in this. You were so excited, had to calm down though, or you’ll ruin your little plan. Which Isn’t really a plan just some mind game that you know your lover is fond of. And what other way to play that game, by your own rules, right? Why not do something unexpected for once? You saunter out of the master bedroom and straight towards Vika in the living area, where she sat in her comfortable chair, getting a moment to relax after one of her long missions. A certain mission that she would have no choice to take, that separates you both for a bit. Which both of you loathe to be away from each other for too long, yes space is needed in a relationship, but you both have that in your comfortable and safe house. A house that is most well kept, build with hard work, and love poured through the walls to make the perfect place that you both own, and proud of it too. The sound of your heels catches her attention, raising a brow at your sudden interest in her. Before, you were in the bedroom claiming to read, instead you come out in this lacey lingerie, a 3 separate piece of clothing that accentuates your breast, dresses your abdomen, see-through designed fishnets that could make crowds stop in unison just to get a peak of your legs, top it all off with some alluring panties that she is definitely not familiar with because let’s face it. She figured she seen them all with how energetic you’ve been with her, (Being with each other for 2 years, she’s noticed a pattern, ovulation weeks really has you both on edge, except that’s not the case.) She’s genuinely caught off guard by this black silked, lacey, curve astonishing getup you have on. Especially that it’s not ovulation week, something is suspicious, you want something, that had to be it, or…? Was this an apology for cussing out her boss on the phone and not letting her handle it? Or.. maybe Sevika is just confused on why you suddenly feel.. intrigued, to just simply— entertain her. You usually need a drink to calm your nerves around her. You still feel shy at times with her, because hello? You’re girlfriend IS FINE, and she doesn’t get it.. She’s oblivious to why you are still acting like you have crush on her, you are both are wa—-y past the crush stage, you were as if it’s the very first day that you both exchanged words again. Mind you, she also feels somewhat the same way being shy about some things you do, nonetheless she’s been around for so long that she couldn’t imagine you not being next to her at this point. So long that it is RARE that you catch her off guard. She opens her mouth, ‘bout to conjure up the words to ask for an explanation for this, she’s not mad just, extremely confused, she hates being confused. However, this is not that bad for once. You shush her before she even gets the chance to ask. She squints at you, as if you hard to see because, what the fuck you mean shush? She’s already complying though, man-spreading her legs a bit, watching you, ‘cause you are obviously up to something. You turn on your heels, walking away from her, drinking in the those clicks and clacks sounds that your heels makes, her heart beating double seeing you bend over, catching something shine in between your supple ass. Now she’s really confused, baffled even. When the fuck did you have the time to sneak around and-

A familiar song comes on, one of your favorites, you instantly are in a mood by the way your hips are moving in such a way reminds her of how much she loves how smooth you roll them, how you pick up the song so quickly into your personal rhythm that entrances her with ease. The lyrics spoke through your body, every swing, every step, your soul was definitely absorbing the vibe. You turn your head towards Sevika, giving her your famous sly smile, that prompts her to lean back in her chair, already knowing what exactly you want from her. Her silver eyes map around your desirable body, no your body of sweet remedy mixing so effortlessly with the sound of this woman’s hypnotic voice, that you love so much.

Ambling your sexy ass over to her, hands on hips, eyes that are hungry, comanding, telling Vika, that you want her to drink you in, as if you were the last drops of wine she’ll ever get, to sip you slowly, and carefully to let a single drop to waste, to savor every bit of you. Because no one, not one person on this earth has the luxury to enjoy you fully as she does. You got close enough for her to touch you, and she reaches her hand to pull you in. Yet, you smacked her hand away.

“Rude, why-“

“Be quiet, I’m in control now.” You respond voice coming out sultry and divine, the way her eyes slowly widened, you have never spoken to her like this, and she’s.. not conflicted, if anything she complied almost immediately hearing you talk like that. You got closer to her, and closer, raising a leg to each of her sides, straddling yourself on her lap, grinding your self on her, holding her shoulders with your freshly manicured hands, leaning back to the point where she could see the veins of your neck, your begging collar bone, that desperately wants to be licked, suck, and printed upon. Your breast almost pooling out of this gift wrap of a bra that Sevika needs to touch, feeling your soft pillowed tits, her ears were aching to hear that moan of yours. You rocked your hips to the womans voice, enticing Vika in a way that she’d punish you deliciously for.

‘This shit got me confused now, ‘fused now, ‘fused’

Your hips rocked to that lyric, lifting yourself back into her face, your eyes stuck on her silver ones, Sevika starring at you, watching you, feeling starved for you, and you were just relishing it. You leaned into her neck, blowing your air on her nerves, causing her to let out a low grunt. You were tempted to lick her neck so bad, but even you were holding back, trying your best to make sure you kept up with your promising energy, the kind of energy that you love that lingers in your blood stream. The power you hold with your words, your body, your entire. You loved it, and you love how much Sevika is responding to it. Instead of giving in to her desire you gave her a peck to her jawline. A stifled moan came out of her, you could tell she tried to not let it but it still had no choice, no choice to water your ego.

You took your time getting off of her, making sure your warmth was remembered with each slide of your plushed body, her body buzzing with white hot passion with every move you’d make. You didn’t leave for long though, sitting right back on her, back facing her, your ass against her crotch, gods she needed to pin you to a wall right now, and lick you all over with the way how your sugary sticky self was leaving permanent memories to her drooling particles. Her hands in fists, refraining for grabbing a full piece of your ass, the way it would feel so good against her palms, barely being able to grab your entire cheek, the way she could see your flesh still be able to peek in between through her fingers. Oh how she even tried her best not rut against your warm pussy that was so close to hers.

But, you just kept going…

‘Know you wanna eat it, but I can’t let you do that, ice cold ice cold’

‘See it all in your eye, know you want to vibe babe, but it’s too late. Sweet just like a starburst, make the start bust with toothache’

The beat to the song and her perfect words syncing up to way you’d make your ass twitch, making it move like water, dipin’ your self toward the floor, making your arch shine in Sevikas vision, you grabbed her hand to only grip slightly into your inner thigh, holding you with glass like care, making sure you don’t fall.

‘In the mornin’ like “Ooh, yeah” in the afternoon, “Ooh, yeah” Ima see you soo~on’

And you slid off her as if you like a snake, slithering off, downward to the floor, orbs focused in on you like prey, though you’re the one that’s easing your meal, getting her into the most feral, to enrich yourself for a great reward, prepared that she’s going to rip into you like a piece of candy, tasting your syrupped frenzy. Satisfyingly steady movement that you get into this cobra like yoga pose, gradually winding yourself back to face her, while splitting your legs open like scissors, her eyes following your heel land right next to her ankle. Sevikas captured rounds, traveling up to your face, catching your teeth latching onto your bottom lip, if only she could just pick you up, ravaging you, your lips, she’s caught herself being a bit jealous of you being able to bite yourself, but not her? You little vixen. Being this much of a tease wrapping her lust, coating it with your electrifying actions, definitely left an indelible mark on her brain. Slopping over to even get a bit closer to you.

‘Now what am I supposed to do? (youuu)’

Your fingers gravitated towards your mound, guiding it to slightly touch your lips, moving that same hand past it, never leaving your skin, your girlfriend anticipating your next move, as your finger went past your sternum, kissing your nipple, a slight moan coming out of you, you are still watching her watch you not daring to look away. Getting back up, but not off the floor, crawling towards her, kissing her clothed thick thigh, to her inner. Her breath becoming less normal and more rigid, your lips kissed her stomach, going higher to almost reaching her breast, before you even touched it, your eyes slit to hers.

“You want me?”

“Y-Yes”

You kept starring into her eyes to find any kind of doubt, none was there, you opened her button up, only bit to show her cleavage, kiss her tit, dragging your tongue on her warm curve. Low grunts, heavy breaths, making you feel drunk. You stopped. A pout coming from her, you rise from your knees, picking her chin up up.

‘But, dammit, you’re so fine. So, take me tonight. Now hold me(hold me).’

Pulling her to your waist, she barely could contain herself, you nodded, mouth agape, in synch with her spilling desire. She kissed it, savoring you, as the song ended

But crazy enough, that wasn’t it, it wasn’t done. She figured you only were going to do one song and another one played, her favorite song, now you’ve done it.

Song: The Beach by Giveon 📌🧸

“Yeah fuck that, I’m not going through that again, come here” she got up from her chair, picking you up, wrapping your legs around her waist, kissing you roughly, biting, and pulling your bottom lip, hungry for you, starved for you, longing for you. Carrying you with ease and kicking in the bedroom door. Pulling away from the kiss dropping you onto the bed, stripping her top off, throwing to gods know where, doesn’t matter she’s frustrated, and ready to take all of you in. Flipping you over so she can see all of your posterior.

‘But she doesn't run from right here. Lust, guns, drugs, violence. Lust, guns, drugs, violence, ooh’

“Do you have any idea, what you do to me, hm?”

Ahh, she dove right into you pussy, regardless of it being caged by these slutty clothes of yours, taking a rough yet soft bite of your lip, making you whimper with delight, this is exactly what you wanted to see, this side of her that playing with every atom of your being, gods could she get any more sexy?

“Mmf.. fuck! I knew—ah.. I knew you’d like this”

“Play with my head? No, I do that, you know that I.. do that. Since when you picked up on my schemes?, and to do it so..”

She rips the lingerie, revealing your wet, practically drenched lips, that were so eager for her, fuck she wanted to just grab her strap and go at it, but she would never put you through something that rough… unless.. you’d ask her. She took a long look at your twitching pussy, sopping wet from so much well spent time riling her up, pissing her off in the most stimulating ways.

“Infuriatingly.”

“Do you not do it, infuriatingly?”

“Smart ass” She said as she slap your juicy cunt, earning a loud drawn out moan, you gripped the sheets, smiling to yourself gnashing your teeth, if only she could see your face.. mmf.

“You ruined my clothes, bitch”

She slapped your ass this time. It was like you were asking for her to decorate your body with tempting bruises, that you were oh so pleading for, more as your dirty mind, and pussy were dying to have.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Won't let you go, go, go (Ooh-ooh-ooh)

Go, oh-oh, ooh (Ooh)’

“You must be out of your wits today, hm?”

“Am I?”

You backed up, grabbing her by your strong thighs and flipping her onto the bed instead, turning yourself over, straddling her lap. A dance of who will be on top today. Who will be, the one who loses this game of toss and turn.

Sevika breath was caught in her throat, it happened so fast that she didn’t know that you had already pinned her hands above her head.

“Or am I just that good at it? Better even.”

‘Whatever you want I'ma get it for you (Get it for you)’

She was almost proud of you with how you just took her under like that, obviously her cunt was whining too, ferociously in fact. Needing you to satisfy her importunate flooding appetite, strongly wishing you’d just fill her with your tongue already, clenching her walls on the squishy flesh, or even used her mouth, fuck she needs that so bad. Why the fuck are you not giving it to her already?

Why not? Why not play with your food, play with this infamous woman known for her tricks, her strong stature, her mind of a woman who knows how to read people so well it’s scary. Smart, in way that people doubt just because she doesn’t give them enough information for them to use against her, smart enough to know to always be strategic with the next, after the next… Why not take your time with someone who obviously has time enough to know better of so much?

‘Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me like this

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am

Say, ooh, ooh, ooh, 24th street

Ooh, ooh, ooh, made me who I am’

Because, why not? It’s tempting no? Give in to that temptation of what you really want. Tease her, stretch out her ball of heat that is flooding to the brim, undo her slowly like she’s never been undone before. Make her horny until she just loses all of her senses and guide her, guide this fierce woman to go at you like the lion she is. Bring it out of her.

“Admit it, Vika. You hate control.”

You ran a lazy finger down her well kept figure, your finger smoothing over every hard bump of her abs, reaching her happy trail, that you absolutely love riding your slick on, can’t get enough of your clit being stimulated over such a knee buckling sight, you sighed longingly remember how good it felt, your finger still taking its time to be satisfied at her contracting muscles, keeping eye contact well and locked, you were well versed of how much she enjoys your thirst for her.

“Oh yeah definitely I hate it so much, to have more chaos in my life I welcome it.”

She said rolling her eyes, yet her hitches of her breath are not fake.

“Baby, I think you’ve got me all wrong” your grip on her hands become loose for just a moment, she spots it then takes the opportunity, snatching it by the throat, as she usually does with any opening. Her hand rest on your hip, digging her digits in your skin. Pulling you rough towards her, slightly jerking you, to shake those tits of yours. Sevika bit her lip but only for a moment, watching your body react to her is a gift indeed.

‘Your mom told you about this side. It can get ugly’

“I love control.”

You already knew that though, you just want her to really get into it. To control more of your body, more of yourself, push you to the edge at her mercy.

“Oh? Then show me.”

Without sharing another word, she grabs you by your throat bring you down to her face, kissing you with rejuvenating energy, pour down her lust, her yearning for you, down your throat, like spiked liquids making there way down your lungs, taking in everything she has to offer.

‘Oh, won't let you go, go, go. Won't let you go, go, go. Go, oh, ooh…’

“Mmf, take me, take— ah, me right now.” You’d say between the kisses, this lights something deep within her that was already burning, not some little fire by a match, no a conflagration of urge of doing exactly what you just demanded of her.

“Fuck it.”

She lets out, shifting herself to get up to be at eye level, holding you close as she sits on the bed, finally, finally, she gets to play with your tits the way she’s been wanting, though she has a long way to to go with unclasping your corset, she still find her self licking, biting at the pooling flesh that desperately wanted out of this contraption, damn this contraption keeping Sevika away from your tits. She left hickeys on your breast as protest, soothing it with a lap of her tongue. Getting to the last clasp, and pop it goes, throwing it off the floor only to be met with a lacey bra.

She deadpans at it. Fucking evil.. evil clasps.

“You like torturing me, sweets?”

“Maybe? You like being tortured?”

She rolls her eyes not answering that, her smirk fails her though, already knowing that you immediately got her answer, cursing at her self in her head, and outloud a huff through her nose. Another round of clasp off of you throwing that bra across the room. Not wasting any time, she lapped at your perky nipples, rewarding herself hearing your pants, and whimpers. Kneading your other breast with her free hand, playing with your nipples were a ecstasy all on its own. Carefully touching the center, the part where it really turns you on, squirming in her lap, you rutting, and grinding her again, aching for her as she was for you in the living area. Taking both of her hands, smushing them together so she hungrily suck both at the same time, gods was she good at that, her silver eyes never leaving yours, yours not wanting to spare a glance at anything else, so in tune with each other, your pussy clenching at nothing as she sucked and licked at your pretty nipples, she couldn’t get enough of them. Never enough of you. Not ever. No matter how many times she tries to satisfy herself with you, it is never enough, she rather go at it for days. Enraptured by you and your stunning self, more than just your beauty, that brain of yours that just ticks her just right, asking her the right questions not the annoying ones, being dumb to make her laugh, cooking for her, and with her even though you argue sometimes over the silliest of things, ending up kissing over it, or taking over the kitchen while the other hugs from behind.

She stops, giving you this look.

“Mm.. Vika.. why’d y-“ you pouted but stopped looking at how serious she’s starring at you, your heart speeding up, your chest rising and falling.

“Yes, love?” You ask her to get her to say something, anything, you can’t help but let this heat that started with your ear, fully encapsulating your face completely, you scrunched your nose when you were in embarrassment, and there goes her toothy gapped smile.

“I love you.” She spoked

“I was going to say more, but you look so damn cute like that”

“Oh fuck you.”

“Fuck me then.” Your eyes widen, you hated how she can just switch just like that good gods it made you some stupidly inlove with her, your thoughts just stop all together, and she knows it! She fucking knows it and still does it, like a run on fucking gag. Gods she was so freaking-

Kissing you again, tenderly, slowly, you opening your mouth for her to access to, her long tongue wrapping itself against yours, wresting against each other, wrapping your arms around her neck, desperately trying to get closer to her as if your atoms were never truly touching.

Tenderly turning back to animalistic, grunting, and gripping, scratching her exposed back, you both dizzy for it, urging both of you to just break everything, Vika taking her hand, slowly down your abdomen, your skin prickling at her touch.

“Please touch me, I’m dying here.”

“So whiney”

“Hmph”

Her fingers find their way to your folds, gathering up your continuous bliss.

“All this for me? How sweet.”

You can’t even reply, the way she’s rubbing her digits against you, making you float, even before she inserted anything, just her voice, and those thick fingers of hers are enough. She was chasing those moans with little effort, gluttonous for em’ making your heat stir in ardor. Circling slow motions over your bundle of nerves, dedicating each swirl to make sure it feels perfect for your pulsating kindle.

“Vika I need your mouth please.”

“Hm… After all that teasing you think I should just-“

Lapping at your rouse, her skillful tongue putting in the work, you tussling her hair, messing it up, she doesn’t care though, mess it up all you like, she’s been down there for hours, enjoying every moan, mewl, pant, orgasm, especially your addicting arousal, drinking every bit, and unending leaks.

“Ah! N-need you, please.”

“Use—.. *lap* your words”

“Stick those fucking fingers in me.” She stopped, slapping your pussy once more, almost making you work up another orgasm.

“Please stick your.. thick fiingers in me..”

Before doing that she rolled you over on your stomach, wrapping her bicep around your neck, pulling you up with her, rocking both of your hips in rhythmic motion, fingers lacing with your dripping cunt.

“Thats more like it, now, mind telling me why the fuck you keep talking to me like that? Like I won’t punish you.”

“Is this really— nngh, punishment if I’m enjoying it?”

“Eh, pain is punishment enough, I don’t have it in me to..”

She inserts a finger into your weeping hole. Gasping from her sudden filling, gnashing your teeth, drool coming down your chin with each thrust. Your eyes feeling themselves roll behind your head, these thrust were rough and so filling, touching spaces that can’t feel the same if it were you. Hell, before Sevika came into your life you figured you’d always hate being fingered, be it yourself or someone else, but damn how she changed your mind forever. As long as it’s her.

“-Punish myself by lingering a begging touch that you’d enjoy. Your pleasure, is my pleasure, torturing myself would just be a waste of time, baby”

You found yourself clenching around her fingers already.

“Cumming already? Again?”

“Ah-, I can’t-.. I can’t help it Vika..”

She kisses your neck, cooing in your ear helping you arrive to your last orgasm for the hour, (and yes I mean hour, Sevika is definitely going to be getting her payback for your tease earlier, consensually of course. She knows when its too much for you and stops immediately. Every. Single. Time.)

An.) should I make a pt2? To finish what they started that is.

[oggirlboss]

༺ ♰ ༻ sicko fantasies ༺ ♰ ༻

levi ackerman masterlist

summary: levi ackerman has to supervise a certain brat in detention. needy little virgin hours ensue before school is in session.

pairing[s]: yandere!janitor!levi ackerman x afab!student!reader

warning[s]: flirtatious behavior, power imbalance, m!masturbation, voyeurism, and age gap. hella weird so read at your own risk.

note[s]: no beta, we die like carla.

word count: 3k

art belongs to columbo on twitter (i still refuse to call it x)

levi ackerman is a sick, twisted, little fuck of a man. the exact kind of gross dude that forced schoolgirls to have a dress code. he couldn't stop himself from looking up girls skirts when he knelt down to pick up their trash, or avoid looking down girls shirts when they leaned over to wash their hands in the sink. he didn't even regard his perversion as an awful thing. after all, there are other guys out there who let their obsessions go to the absolute extreme, their crimes delving into horrendous depths like rape and murder. levi could never imagine such things happening, the thought made him sick to his stomach. he wasn't that bad... was he?

 principle erwin certainly didn't think so. he's known about levi's little habit since grade school, but that didn't stop him from writing levi a letter of recommendation and convincing the board of regents to hire him as the primary janitor at shiganshina high school. surely if erwin thought he was so bad he would have tried to protect the girls of the school from him, right?

¿ʇɥɓıɹ

it wasn't like all of his attention was centered on one individual, levi knew that type of behavior was out of the question. he was just liked looking that was all, he didn't have the skills to actually approach one of these girls. despite these perversions, he was disgusted by men that touched girls. the ones who prey on the vulnerable, whose sickly minds allow them to prey on girls and use their positions of power and authority to manipulate these girls into doing whatever they want. to use them however they want. levi didn't think he was like that at all.

but he did take a great interest in you during your sophomore year. you probably got put into detention for a stupid reason, and he couldn't help but sympathize with you. he figured that you got caught doing something mildly dangerous by an administrator and shoved into detention with the rest of the rejects. except since it was nearing the end of the year, all the other teachers didn't even bother to put their students in detention. they dished out more tame punishments to their students and basically took it easy for the last stretch of work until summer break. the teachers were just as fed up with their jobs as the students were with their mundane classes. you, unfortunately, were the unwritten exception to this unspoken rule, and as a result you were the only one sitting in a desolate cafeteria.

that was the first time levi truly paid attention to you. you were a shy kid, you mostly kept your head down and didn't talk much. he had seen you around before and he figured that it'd be creepy if he struck up a conversation before going off to clean the bathrooms in the teacher's lounge. as soon as he saw your silk-smooth skin peeking out of your too short shorts, he knew he'd need to find an excuse to spend more time with you.

"oi! brat." he spoke calmly, feigning disinterest when his heart was beating out of his chest. "i'm your assigned supervisor for detention. you can start by picking up a rag and some disinfectant to wipe down all the tables and chairs." his stomach lurched at the lie, this was exhilarating. he watched you hurry to do as he commanded, feeling pride swell in his chest. you believed him. he was a trusted adult, and his authority in the matter didn't need any questioning.

"i was told professor miche would be in charge of detention today." levi pondered on a good response, but he couldn't stop mulling over the fact that bastard had snatched you up first. miche would have had you all to himself if levi hadn't spoken up just now

"miche couldn't make it on time, so i'm here to cover for him." levi had a teasing tone in his voice, a smile ghosting his fine features for less than a second. "now are you going to stand around looking pretty, or are you going to get to work?" his taunt didn't have much of an effect on you as you marched up to his supply cart and snatched up a rag and some random chemical mix. "no no no. that won't do." levi sauntered towards you, snapping the rim of his plastic gloves as he did so. "you can't use furniture polish for cleaning surfaces. while the lemony scent does have it's perks, a bleach based product would help you much more." your eyebrows furrowed as you nodded. maybe you could learn something from his guidance, after all, he was a professional.

"alright. will clorox work?" you picked up the product by its handle and squeaked as you gripped the hilt, causing a foamy string of liquid to burst from its container.

"hey, hey, no funny business." levi smirked at your playful tenacity. you were so much more fun than he'd thought you would be. "who even taught you how to clean?" he scoffed in a light-hearted manner.

"i guess i'm self taught, but i always get the job done good enough." you smiled at him as you sprayed the different tables and wiped them down with an old blue rag.

"well maybe your good enough isn't good enough for me and my standards." levi hovered over your shoulder, carefully observing your movements. he wrapped himself around you, pressing his chest against your back and helping you grasp your hand around the rag. "move your arm in a circular motion, but don't press too hard into the wood, you'll tire yourself out too quickly that way." you carefully listened to every word he said, this is a learning experience, isn't it? this knowledge came straight from the mouth of a professional, you'd be absolutely daft to not pay attention to him. but it didn't help that he was easy on the eyes or that you could feel his muscles flex through your clothing. he was undeniably attractive and it was hard for you not to entertain the notion. his sharp breath ghosted the skin behind your ear.

"what sort of cleaning products do you use at home?" his question and his proximity startled you.

"um, i use the mr. clean stuff. my mom thought that their super bowl commercial from a few years ago was the epitome of comedy ."

"tch." you could feel his grip tighten on your hand as he shook his head. you frowned at his reaction.

"well what's that supposed to mean?" he sighed before spiraling into a lecture.

"mr. clean, although sexy in his own right, is much too expensive. especially those magic erasers of his. they are outrageously overpriced, and they're not even real magic." your nose crinkled as you snickered at his joke, and his face lit up in a blush. "they're uh, they're made of uh sodium bisulfite copolymer, and it's ridiculously cheap. for half the price, you can buy ten times the amount that damned company scams you with."

"i suppose that's one of the many miracles of capitalism." levi's deep chuckle vibrated through your back. his presence was comforting, and it was beyond a relief to have such a friendly person around, even if it will only last the span of detention.

"you're funny." he leaned into the crook of your neck and lightly sniffed the perfume you'd applied earlier that morning. it's probably for that bastard, miche. levi did his best to shake that thought out of his head, and hurriedly stepped away from you.

"is everything alright, sir?" you threw your rag down, abandoning your place at the table and rushed to his side. your hand rested on the bare skin of his arm, and your eyes widened seeing levi acting so odd. he was perfectly fine seconds ago, it was hard to understand how this change could have taken place so quickly. "you look very pale." before he could blink the backs of your fingers were pressed against his clammy forehead and he was in heaven. he basked in the attention you were giving him, and in this shaken state narrowly avoided lathering you with the same touching care.

"yes, yes." levi cradled his head in his hand, and stared up at you with his hair falling into his eyes. "it's just a little headache, it's no problem." he frequently struggled with migraines, but those were nothing compared to whatever was coming over him now.

"well, i have some extra tylenol in my purse, i can go back to my locker and get some." you couldn't register the speed with which he reached out and held your wrist in an iron grip.

"no." his voice was gravelly, like a frog was caught in his throat. "don't leave. it's really nothing." he smiled to comfort you but it only did the opposite. there was a glint in his eyes that made you want to run away and never come back. you reluctantly agreed to stay with him, and worked through the rest of your detention in relative silence.

the following morning you were called into professor miche's office over the intercom. there were oohs and aahs from your classmates and a resounding thunder of commentary.

"i don't think y/n has ever gotten in trouble before." armin spoke to himself.

"she isn't going to be able to worm her way out of his one." snickered to her friends.

"how much you wanna bet she's screwing him to get a better grade?" reiner joked as berholdt berated him for making assumptions. wrong. wrong. wrong.

ɬɧɛყ'۷ɛ ɠơɬ ıɬ ąƖƖ ῳཞơŋɠ, ʝųʂɬ Ɩıƙɛ ɬɧɛყ ąƖῳąყʂ ɖơ.

you slammed your fists on the table, effectively silencing the chatter. you didn't bother to push your chair back in as you raced down the hallway to pound on miche's office door. you heard a sigh from inside as he beckoned you inside. his menacing figure towered over you

"it's not polite for you to skip out on detention, l/n. where were you for our session?"

"well, you would know if you weren't tardy for detention, sir." you smiled in an effort to brush off the discomforting feeling his stare brought you. miche leaned down to your level and violently sniffed the air around you. "i was with the janitor, you told him to fill in for you. does that ring a bell?" you could care less if you were sounding rude, but his questioning was getting tedious.

professor miche sneered down at you, mulling over the consequences that would be brought down upon you if he discovered this was a lie. "is this true, levi?" your eyes widened as turned around to see levi leaning on the handle of his cart. the hallway was utterly devoid of people, and you didn't understand how you didn't hear his footsteps or the squeak of the wheels on his cart. it's like he was invisible the entire time, appearing silently like a ghost. levi cleared his throat as he stared back at miche.

"quite so, yes. she worked very well under my guidance." he let his gaze drop to the ground as he licked his lips. "it makes me wish that miss l/n could get detention more often so i could have some help keeping this place tidy." he absentmindedly swiped two fingers over miche's name card that hung on his office door. "she worked well, and i'm sure she'll learn from the experience." miche scowled at levi, something was off about him. while the two of them weren't particularly close, he could certainly tell if something was wrong. he'll have to report this to principle erwin, if only to ease his conscience. "well, if that's everything, i suppose i'll be on my way." you gave levi a little smile and mouthed a quick thank you before he set off down the hallway with his cart.

the rumbling of the wheels echoed through the empty hallway as he moved closer and closer to the bathrooms he'd set out to clean. his cart was placed to the right of the entrance to the boy's bathroom and upon entering he was greeted with the welcoming scent of orange spice. levi took great care to make sure he was alone in that bathroom before he retreated into the furthest stall. he undid the buttons of his pants and slid them down his milky thighs until they rested around his ankles. he ran a swift hand through his silky black hair as he gripped the base of his cock tightly, gently smoothing over the thick skin and working to calm his unsteady breathing. he's never been this wound up during his work hours, but he had a feeling that this was soon going to be a normal occurrence. his brain began to wander away from the bathroom stall as he thought back to the porn he'd watched in his car before he came into work. he imagined the movements of the female model's body beneath the man, and how her body shook with every impact of their hips. his manhood twitched in excitement as he thought of her y/h/c hair that laid spread across her red pillows, but that was too perfect. it wasn't dirty enough for him. he needed the real deal, but nobody wanted to touch an old man, and they certainly didn't want to touch someone as creepy as levi ackerman. so he had to resort to doing it himself.

his hand stilled, cock sitting at attention against his pale stomach. he ran a finger over the mushroom-like head and began to roughly fist his cock like a madman. his eyes clenched shut as he tried to think of something that would get him off. the first thought that came to his mind wasn't even erotic, but it gave him a renewed vigor and sent a primal ache coursing through his aching cock. he wondered how you would look sleeping. you have to be the most heavenly creation in existence, vulnerable and at peace while you dream. it would only be too easy to get into the file cabinets that contain thee student records and discover your place of residence, and finally be blessed by the sight of you snuggled into your bed with your stuffed animals cradled to your chest. he could shimmy your cute pajama shorts off your body and press his hot tongue against your cunt. it'd be slimy and wet and lewd and absolutely gross. and he'd love every goddamn minute of it. your face would be flushed red and sweat would bead your forehead as you unconsciously rut against his mouth. he wants your juices to lather his lips and hold your breasts in a death grip as he makes you squirt onto his waiting tongue. he wants to be 𝖘𝖔 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉 to you, and spoil you in every way imaginable. he wants to spear you on his cock and bury his head in your breasts, smothering himself and coating the valley between the two mounds on your chest with a mixture of his heavy drool and your wet release. he'll pump you full of his cum until you're absolutely bursting and pull up your panties to hide his mess. he'll sneak out your window and drive home while you lay in warm in your bed with your face shoved into your pillow.

he lets out a heavy groan as he brings his hand to his mouth to bite on his knuckles to stop any sound from escaping his treacherous mouth. he began to imagine what you would look like if you gave him a handjob. would you be slow and tentative? or would you opt to beat his manhood dry? no doubt your delicate fingertips would feel like heaven on earth, and your soft breath would hit his cheek as you focused on bringing him immense pleasure. he heard the door to the bathroom open, but he couldn't break free from his lusty haze. his mind was too focused on the constant phap phap phap of his hand beating against his manhood to register the footsteps that slowly neared the stall he occupied. a hand pressed against the unlocked door to fully expose levi's perversions to the open air. he looks up to see erwin staring down at him, a disappointed look coating the principle's face. no words were spoken as levi continued his assault on his cock. a broken cry left his lips as he threw his head back, eyes clamped shut as he felt his creamy cum shoot out onto his shirt and hand.

"really, levi?" his eyebrows furrowed as levi looked him dead in the eye. "the boy's bathroom?" levi groaned at his question, not bothering to answer before bending over and pulling up his pants. levi had no shame, and certainly not in front of erwin.

levi laughed as he wiped the cum off his hand with toilet paper. "would you prefer i did it in the girl's?" his bland retort left a dumbfounded erwin unable to move from where he stood. levi used that moment of shock to escape from the stall and out into the hallway. he was going to enjoy this newfound sense of freedom.

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | Chapter One

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 1,3k

Warnings | +18, explicit language, kidnapping, yandere, use of a sleep-inducing substance (not specific which one), mentions of prostitution

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Here is the spin-off of Happy Ending, I hope you like the first chapter! 🥰 I would like to warn you, Jimin in this story will not be kind and soft like Jungkook from Happy Ending, he is very cruel and selfish, he is a hard yandere

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - Next

2020.

Three years ago.

According to Kim Seokjin's rules, the choice of a whore was something very important. The girls chosen had to meet very specific requirements, such as not having anyone who would one day - following their disappearance - look for them. Seokjin did not want any trouble, and Jimin was not about to give him any. He took a long, deep drag from his cigarette, inhaling its bitter addiction, before blowing a thick, white cloud of smoke out the car window. He stretched his gloved hands over the steering wheel, waiting for the next move. Namjoon, at his side, checked that the situation outside was okay -nothing was moving in that neighborhood, not even the shadow of a stray cat - and this created the perfect moment. "Are you ready, Jimin?" asked the older man, beginning to prepare everything needed. The dark-haired boy's eyes sparkled, he nodded confidently as he adjusted his coat. One last glance at the clock and shortly after exactly 1 a.m. they got out of the car, long strides on the asphalt counted only by the ticking of their smart shoes. Seeing them, anyone would have said they were two well-to-do men about to attend an important event, except to glance at the squalor of the houses shrouded in darkness around them. Namjoon carried a dark briefcase in one hand; Jimin walked confidently beside him before turning into a small, narrow, grim alley.

"They have to stay here, don't they?" asked Namjoon, observing the crumbling building. "That's what they wrote," confirmed Jimin, finding the lobby door already wide open; it was a low-level Motel, it wouldn't take long. They found a guy half asleep behind the counter, the two exchanged a glance of understanding before Jimin approached the man in his forties striking him dryly in the back of the head, the latter only having a chance to let out a choked scream before passing out completely. "Thanks, man," sneered the boy, beginning to look up the names he was interested in in the register, along with the room number and corresponding key. He nodded to Namjoon when he had everything and they went up to the indicated floor. Jimin's alert and shrewd eyes immediately found what he was looking for, he pointed the door to his taller friend and together they opened it, they found the lights off, but they were trained to see even in the dark so they went straight to the two beds in the middle of the old and stale room, it was clear that such a Motel could not have all the comforts and amenities with what little they paid, there were not even cameras, it was an unsuitable and unsafe place for young girls like those asleep in those beds, Jimin thought with a grin.

Namjoon set the briefcase down on the floor, retrieving ready-made syringes from it, handed one to his friend and headed for one of the beds, Jimin chose for himself the one near the window and as the filtering neon sign light increasingly put the young girl's sleeping face on display, he inspected the young girl's face carefully, drinking in the sight of her softly parted lips and the warm breath rhythmically lowering and raising her chest. He lowered himself slightly to her neck, cautiously inhaling the light scent of roses emanating from her inviting skin. Namjoon, meanwhile, had already finished gently injecting the pinkish liquid into the other girl's arm, the substance would send her to sleep for a few hours, and Jimin should have hurried to do the same, too bad that he was merely gazing longingly at the woman, completely rapt. Namjoon noticed this and with a shade of reproach in his voice, called him to his senses. "Jimin, get a move on! Don't let your cock harden just now," he scolded him in a low, irritated tone. The young man puffed slightly, before uncorking the loaded syringe, unfortunately not accounting for the girl's light sleep, who squinted her eyelids as if disturbed by the presence looming over her with the eyes of a hawk.

She thought she was dreaming, but the figure of Jimin took a distinct and material form in her field of vision, which at first glance left her speechless.

Then a shrill scream left her throat, she tried to pull away, but Jimin was immediately on her, trying to block her, Namjoon caught up with an expletive clenched between his teeth and grabbed the girl by the shoulders, pushing her against the bed, the latter only in time to kick like a horse, managing to hit Jimin at jaw level, which pissed him off in no small measure, without any kindness or regard he stuck the needle of the syringe on her exposed thigh thanks to her pajama shorts, it penetrated the skin like butter and the girl stiffened screaming in pain, she fainted from shock without needing to wait for the injection to take effect. Namjoon let go a sigh before staring furiously at Jimin, who was touching the affected area with glacial eyes fixed on his victim. "What the fuck has gotten into you! Did you have to give her time to wake up?" he hissed, his silver hair glowing with the neon light outside, and Jimin gritted his teeth at the saintly appearance he was displaying at that moment. "I didn't think she'd wake up so easily, okay?" he blurted out, before pulling the girl's body to himself without any care, Namjoon shook his head before retrieving the other one more gently, the one had been good the whole time and he hoped the other Motel patrons hadn't heard the screams.

They should have moved in complete silence inconspicuously, but Jimin did not know what silence was, evidently. They went out with a placid step, from the other doors they heard absolutely nothing. Perhaps they were not occupied rooms, or most likely no one wanted to risk their skin to go and see what had happened to the girls, it was still a bad neighborhood that one. Jimin held the unconscious body rigidly in his arms, full of lividity. When he had watched her sleep he had called her a tender little angel in his head, well he was wrong, and very wrong, too. The bitch squealed like a goose and he would have loved to stretch her neck, which Namjoon wouldn't let him do anyway, they served without the slightest bruise to the Dark Moon. They arrived at the car without further trouble, even the road had remained deserted, and loaded the bodies into the back seats. "Let's get out of here before something else happens," muttered the friend, Jimin huffed annoyed, getting back into the driver's seat. "You're making it too tragic, no one heard us," he said, earning an angry look. "Because it was a sleazy Motel, you make all that noise in a normal house and see if no one hears you."

Jimin waved a hand, as if to say that he didn't give a shit about Namjoon's worries, bit his own lower lip piercing as he drove taking semi unfamiliar roads to leave no trace of himself. It would not happen again, after all. Yes, it hardly ever happened that he got a hard cock in the middle of a kidnapping on behalf of the Dark Moon, that had been new for him as well. He cast a glance at the other girl as well, but she said absolutely nothing to him, his body seemed to be attracted to the bitch who had kicked him, this made him even more irritated. "Should we take them to the warehouse?" The warehouse was an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, they used it to hide their equipment, but also often to torture and kill, or as in this case, keep the goods cool just long enough to make decisions about them, it was convenient and practical. "Yes, Jungkook said that Seokjin will lose time at the Dark Moon, there have been clients giving the girls trouble and he is cutting some names off the list," Namjoon replied, reading their maknae's messages. Jimin nodded, taking the last descent of that country road that would lead them straight to the warehouse.

[ivymarquis]

Hi loves 💕💕 I saw requests are open so I figured I'd send one in! I absolutely love your work you're so talented and I binge read all of your fics!!

I would like to request fem reader x soap where Soaps wife adopted a dog she found on the streets and keeps her even though he hates the idea.( he has a cannon fear of dogs which I find a little funny) slowly but surely he warms up to the dog but not fully. While he's out on a mission there's a robbery and the dog protects the reader and scares off the intruder. Soap hears about this and is instantly is best friends with the dog because even though he hates dogs he loves that the pup will protect his wife (I also hc that mabey it's not a street dog but a retired k9 reader adopted to feel safe while he was gone and she just didn't tell him until he comes home and sees a dog. it's up to you what you pick💓)

Hello anon I appreciate your patience!! I did pick and choose a wee bit to make the fic make sense for me, I hope you like it!

The Exception to the Rule

Pairing| Soap x Reader Rating| T Word Count| 1.9K Content/Warnings| Housekeeping first- this fic is SFW so if you find it in the tags I won’t be bothered about minors reading it but I am an MDNI blog and I will block any minors or ageless blogs who follow me. Got it? Cool. The author is an American attempting to write a Scottish accent, likely inaccuracies about how military dogs in general or bomb dogs in specific work. Allusions to prior animal injury, allusion to potential dog choking (in the context of choking off a working dog who won’t release its quarry), allusion to home invasion, dog bites, Johnny is not happy, the author does not condone getting animals you know your partner has issues with (but the plot necessitates it so on we go!)

Soap knows his wife well enough to know when she’s taken a “ask for forgiveness rather than permission” course of action. It’s written all over her face when she accepts his FaceTime call and answers his greeting of “What did ya dae, hen?“ with a “Please don’t be mad.”

Now certain men might have to worry about their brides stepping out on them on deployment. Soap knows her well enough to not even entertain that notion, so the wheels start turning for what exactly she could have done that has her looking this guilty out the gate.

The answer comes very suddenly in the form of a bark on the other end of the screen.

John Soap MacTavish sputters, something he is not often inclined to do, “Is that a fuckin’ dog?” And not just a dog. That wasn’t a little yappy fluffball who can be picked up with two fingers if need be. It sounds like one of the damn bomb dogs always yapping over in the kennels.

“Please don’t be mad!” She pleads again.

“Well a’m not happy, that’s for sure. Where and why did ye git that thing?”

This is completely out of character for her. Soap’s disdain for dogs (and why) is well known. She bloody well knows. So what the hell?

“It’s not permanent! You said this deployment would be a long one, and there’s been break ins in the neighborhood and I got nervous and my friend told me about this rescue group that helps rehome retired military dogs.” Her explanation is all in one breath. “They approved us” (Us??) ”as a foster family. He’s already got applications in for a permanent home. It just feels,” she pauses to catch her breath, and Soap can feel himself softening ever so minisculely to the dog- as long as he’s on the other side of the world, away from it, “safer here, with him here since you’re gone. The break ins have been really scary, they haven’t caught the guy yet.”

Fucking hell how is he supposed to argue with that? Especially if there’s some prick on the loose breaking into houses.

“Cujo better nae be oan th’ bed wi’ ye,” he grouses, acquiescing while still making his displeasure known.

“His name is Kabar and I’ll have the bed freshly stripped when you’re due back I promise.”

Soap is a god damn sucker for those pleading doe eyes, giving a big exasperated sigh to signal he’s letting her off the hook. “Fine. Bit he better be gaen by th’ time I pull intae th’ driveway. Let’s see th’ damn thing then,” Christ he hopes it’s not a Belgian Malinois. He knows they’re popular for military dogs but his darling is not built to handle a maligator, retired or not.

“Okay hang on,” she replies, notably cheerier as she taps the screen.

It’s a German Shepherd, thank fuck (Johnny must be having a stroke to be grateful for the sight of a German Shepherd in his bed)

He knows as well as anyone else they can be intense, but they’re a step down from the Malinois at least.

The coloring is traditional, but Soap’s brain starts nudging him that something is wrong with the dog. It takes a moment to click before he realizes the problem.

The damn dog only has three legs. “Is he a tripod?” The question is out before he can stop himself because no he is not inquiring about the damn dog. It was just a thought that escaped.

“He is a disabled veteran!” His bride corrects cheekily, before much more solemnly adding “He was a bomb dog.”

Oh Christ. He did not need to know that. Doesn’t need to think about the damn animal waking up one day with four legs and clocking in to work with his handler before boom.

“A’m only entertaining this because of the break ins, hen, am ah clear?”

Maybe having that booming bark rattling the windows will keep any would-be intruders at bay. This is the worst part of the job- being stuck on what might as well be the other side of the world when she’s got something to deal with.

“Absolutely crystal clear!” She’s all too agreeable, pleased as hell to have her cake (the dog) and eat it too (Johnny tolerating it).

Somehow this is going to blow up in his face and he’s going to permanently end up with a fucking military dog he doesn’t want, he just knows it.

But there’s no fucking way he can tell her No. Absolutely not. He goes back today, with a potential threat lurking around the neighborhood. He’d never forgive himself.

The rest of the conversation is much more in line with what he usually anticipates with their phone calls being- He doesn’t much like talking about work off the clock although lets her know of any interesting shenanigans around the base, and listening with baited breath as she regails him of tales both extraordinary and, well, extra ordinary.

Usually their phone calls end when she passes out in bed, and they’re perfectly poised to continue that habit tonight also.

“Ye made sure all th’ doors and windows are locked, hen?” He asks as she starts snuggling into the bedding underneath her.

“Yeah Johnny, I,” she cuts herself off with a big yawn “-I double checked them.”

It’s a few minutes later that the phone slips from her hand, camera pointing at the ceiling as she drifts off.

Johnny can almost imagine he’s at home laying on his back, watching the rhythmic movements of the ceiling fan in time with his lovely girl snoring slightly in his ear (despite her verbose protests that no she doesn’t snore- okay. Whatever you say, gorgeous.)

It’s an incredibly comforting moment that lets him feel a bit closer to home that is ruined by the sound of snuffling by the speaker.

The dog’s nose appears on screen, the angle making him look like an aardvark as he sniffs the phone before laying down, presumably relishing in the fact there’s not a damn thing Soap can do about this situation.

“Ye better keep an eye oan my girl, Cujo.” Soap grumbles as he begrudgingly hangs up the phone.

The mission ends quicker than expected- substantially quicker- and as content as Soap is with getting home he also is annoyed.

The mission got cut so short, and it’s so damn late by the time Soap is driving home that he knows the fucking dog is still there. The agreed upon date has not yet passed, which means that fuck is lazing about on his side of the bed.

Not to mention the mere obstacle of convincing a former military dog he’s never met, in the middle of the night, that yes this is his fucking house and he’s the one paying the bills around here and yes that actually is his spot on the bed so kindly fuck off.

At a point during his drive home, a police car flies by him. Then another. Then another.

Must be the fucker that’s been breaking into homes. Hopefully he gets caught and that’s one less thing to worry about when Johnny leaves again.

Except the red and blue lights seem to be fucking honed in from the spot that he’s steadily driving to, and Johnny’s convinving himself that he’s seeing things. There is no way that those lights and sirens are stemming from his house, thank you very much.

Even still, he feels himself driving faster. The sooner to quiet his anxiety that’s brewing.

The anxiety doesn’t dissipate as he makes each turn to his home. If anything it gets worse.

Because all that noise and the flashing lights are stemming from his own fucking home. Johnny can barely get the thing in park before he’s flying out of the vehicle. He can hear screams and specifically her crying and in an instant Johnny’s beyond being keyed up.

One of the officers attempts to intercept Johnny- thinks he’s just some nosy fuck from who knows where- and it takes everything in him not to blow his top entirely as he cuts the man off with a stern “This is mah house ‘n she’s mah wife!”

The sound of his voice booming into the night is enough to catch her attention and bring her running to him. Johnny embraces her as she flings herself at him, crying into his shirt as he strokes her back and soothes her.

He can piece together the general what happened, although he’s completely unaware of the details.

One piece begins to fit into place as he starts to hear what all the screaming is. His initial attention completely fixated on ensuring his wife is whole and hale, now he can check that off the mental list he now has the bandwidth to listen to the bellowing.

“Git it aff me! Och Jesus, someone git it aff o' me!”

“Cannae git th’ damn thing tae release him,” Johnny hears one of the officers comment dryly.

“Can always choke him off if the owners can’t git him tae let go,” the other one supplies.

“Eh, ah guess,” the first one responds in a bored tone that makes it clear he has a this guy fucked around and now he’s finding out, and I don’t see a reason to hurry- the dog looks happy anyway, stance to the situation.

On the side of the house, face down in the grass is the man who presumably broke inside.

He is so incredibly lucky there are witnesses and a sobbing wife to curtail the dark, angry thoughts swirling around in Johnny’s brain. Otherwise all it would take would be one phone call to Laswell and this prick disappears forever.

Attached to the calf of that man is Cujo, happily laying on the ground with his tail wagging slowly like his teeth aren’t sunk inside a man’s flesh. If the dog gets too annoyed with the man’s wiggling he shakes him like a chew toy, starting up a fresh round of someone git this fucking dog aff o’ me! until he lays still.

The mention of choking the dog off the would-be intruder doesn’t slip past his darling in the slightest, looking up at him with wet, pleading eyes.

Damn it all, he’s always a sucker for that look.

“Johnny, do you know how to make him let go? I don’t want him choked!”

He decides she’s probably better off not being told how often that ends up having to happen, and that Cujo will be just fine minus a few brain cells if push comes to shove.

But he has spent enough time (against his will, mind) around the dogs that he’s learned the basic commands over the years through repeated exposure.

“No promises, hen, bit we’ll see.” The dog has never met him a day in his life- there’s no guarantee he’s going to listen to a man that’s a stranger barking orders at him, but Johnny gives the sharp German command anyway.

To his surprise, the dog lets go immediately and turns towards them, giving the skipping lope that a 3 legged dog does before placing himself in a heel at Soap’s side, eyes wide and head tilted.

Johnny doesn’t want to think about what could have happened tonight if it wasn’t for Cujo- Kabar- taking such an involved roll in apprehending the man stupid enough to break into his home.

And he’s most assuredly not magically over his aversion to dogs- especially military dogs- but he might be able to tolerate an exception if it means having some peace of mind that his wife is safe at home.

[strangenewwords]

i just want to start this by saying i am so obsessed with your x-men fics and i am absolutely in love with how you write, like to the point where i'm debating on if i should get into star trek just to read more of your stuff.

and i just wanted to ask if you could share more of what logan's perspective in tapped out was ? it's my favorite of your stories, and i am constantly thinking about what would have been going through logan's head while him and scott were texting

I am just SCREAMING. This is me:

Seriously, I hope you know how much just even a little note means and how it makes me want to keep writing so, you're amazing.

Also, honestly? My X-men stuff is way better than my Trek stuff.

AND THEN LOGAN OMG. Okay so I've thought about this so much I considered writing one from his perspective.

I think when he first finds Scott on Grindr, he thinks that Scott's hunting other students to yell at them, and/or Scott's there just to fuck with Logan, as one does. Because Logan is Logan and he knows it's Scott instantly. Because Logan and Scott view sex a lot differently I think? Like Logan is way more okay being sexually attracted to people than Scott is. Because Scott puts all those rules on himself about what's allowed and what isn't.

So Logan does it for a lark at first. Like okay, show me your dick because there's no way that Scott Summers will do that. There's no way in hell.

Except then HE DOES. So Logan's like the fuck dude. Because Scott's asking for pictures of his chest and Logan - he never for a single moment considers that Scott doesn't know it's him or that Scott would consider him attractive. Not to say that Logan doesn't know he's attractive, just the SCOTT would think so.

So he's like holy shit, is Scott into me?

And so he gets all twisted up because this is obviously a Thing, capital T included, because Scott won't talk about it, doesn't smile sidelong at him, but he's all kinds of distracted in the danger room and I think, this is kind of a sad part, I think Logan's kind of used to being a dirty secret? Like of course, Scott couldn't be interested in him overtly, and of course, Scott would need some time to get used to it.

So that Logan is then like okay maybe this won't break, whatever it is, if we keep doing it this way. So he has his OWN feelings about going from being on the app to being in person.

But then Logan does what he always does, and those feelings he's already had - cause let's face it, Logan is such a feelings dude, he falls in love with everyone, and it's always in this tragic kind of way, so I think there's pretty much a spark with him with almost anyone where he COULD love them, and then he starts doing whatever he's doing with Scott and he DOES love him, and so he's all okay enough is enough let's meet.

And I think he's anxious as fuck about that and probably drove himself crazy deciding what to say so it seemed nonchalant, but then Scott bitches at him in the meeting.

Which means he's hurt and confused and also like beating himself up because of COURSE Scott would be like fuck no I don't want to meet.

But then Scott convinces him again and by then Logan's just tired of what the fuck is this, and then it all deliciously falls apart (and then back together again).

Lmao, thank you for asking, sorry this is QUITE a response, but I have so many feelings about the whole thing. Tapped Out is totally the favorite fic I have ever written, so I'm so so glad you liked it!

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Thirty Seven: Book Club Denial (Totally Not Projecting)

Woooo im back...(3 days how dare i leave you without new chapters)  I started writing a one piece x reader University AU and it went from intended plot to smut without plot... so.... thats where ive been. 

ANYWAY. Back to cats and pirates!

-----

After The Incident—aka the Dramatic Reading Night from which no ego returned unscathed—rules were made.

Rule One: No more acting it out. Rule Two: No touching during tense chapters. Rule Three: No eye contact during monologues.

The boys agreed. Firmly.

There would be no more dramatics.

Just reading.

Quiet. Casual. Heterosexual reading.

Totally normal.

Totally chill.

You found them two nights later in the galley.

The girls were off on the deck watching the stars.

You had left “Blood Feud: Book 4” on the table, fully expecting it to sit untouched.

Except—

Zoro was sitting with it open in front of him, eyes scanning the page.

Sanji stood over his shoulder, clearly pretending to make soup while absolutely not making soup.

Usopp was on the counter, legs swinging, clearly deep into Chapter Six.

Luffy was eating chips, whispering, “Wait, wait, did they kiss yet?”

Zoro didn’t even look up. “Shut up, they’re arguing again.”

Sanji scoffed. “So much tension. Just kiss and stab each other already.”

You stepped into the room, ears perked.

They didn’t notice.

Sanji leaned closer. “Page seventy-five. That’s where the bathhouse scene starts, right?”

Zoro coughed and turned the page faster.

You crossed your arms. “...Well, well, well.”

All four of them jumped like you’d thrown cold water on them.

Luffy choked. Usopp threw the book into the air. Zoro closed it fast enough to nearly rip it. Sanji turned pink from the neck up.

“You said no more book club,” you teased, tail swishing.

Zoro growled. “We’re not in the club.”

Sanji crossed his arms. “It’s literature.”

“Not that it reflects anything about you two, right?” you said sweetly, eyes narrowing. “Not that you see yourselves in the two stubborn, emotionally-repressed warrior types who fight constantly but clearly want to—”

“SHUT UP!!” both Zoro and Sanji yelled in unison.

Usopp wheezed from the corner. “Totally not about them. Nope. Not at all. Just two angry men covered in scars and passion—”

Zoro threw a spoon at him.

Sanji kicked a chair.

Luffy blinked. “I just like the stabbing parts.”

You grinned.

“Don’t worry, boys. Book club is open to all... even the denial-filled.”

Zoro muttered, “I’m gonna throw this book into the sea.”

Sanji said, “Right after I finish chapter eleven.”

You purred. “Knew it.”

---

It was never officially agreed upon.

There were no handshakes. No verbal contracts. No dramatic pacts under moonlight.

It just… happened.

Late one evening, well after lights out on the Sunny, you padded into the storage room—your favorite secret hideout-slash-napping cubby—and found Zoro already sitting there.

Reading.

Blood Feud: Book 4.

You blinked.

He looked up, paused, and in the most casual voice ever muttered, “...Thought this room was empty.”

You slid in beside him.

Two minutes later, Sanji arrived with snacks and a flashlight.

You all stared at each other.

No one said anything.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, you sat in a tight little triangle in the dim storage room, book cracked open between you.

The Unholy Secret Book Club had begun.

It was sacred.

You took turns holding the book. One person flipped pages. One person kept lookout. One person silently squealed, twitched, or screamed internally.

The rules were clear:

No loud reactions.

No saying “That’s totally you!”

No judging if someone squeezed their knees during a hand-holding scene.

Zoro grunted once during a particularly loaded eye contact paragraph.

You and Sanji shushed him immediately.

“Do you want Robin to find us?” you hissed.

“She already knows everything,” Sanji muttered.

“Still.”

--

You reached Chapter Twelve. The tent scene.

You weren’t ready.

None of you were.

“��Caspian reached out in the dark, his fingers brushing Veyron’s scarred jaw. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.’”

Zoro stiffened.

Sanji inhaled sharply.

You clutched your own tail.

Then—

“Caspian pressed their foreheads together. ‘If we die tomorrow…’”

Zoro growled, low in his throat.

“Shhh,” Sanji whispered.

“I’m fine,” Zoro muttered, absolutely not fine.

You squeaked. Immediately shoved a piece of bread into your mouth to muffle it.

Sanji stared at the next paragraph, squinting. “Wait, are they—”

“They’re spooning,” you hissed. “THEY’RE SPOONING.”

All three of you stared at the page.

Silently. Respectfully.

Emotionally.

Zoro wiped at his nose. “Dust.”

“It’s always dust,” Sanji muttered, wiping too.

-

Someone passed by the door.

You all froze.

Zoro threw the book into a pile of ropes. Sanji shoved snacks into a crate. You dropped flat on the floor like a possum playing dead.

Footsteps faded.

You three looked at each other.

Collectively exhaled.

Sanji pulled the book back out with reverent hands. “We left off with the forehead touch.”

Zoro nodded. “Go back a paragraph. I didn’t… process it.”

You purred.

“Book club’s never been stronger.”

------

It was totally not a thing.

You, Zoro, and Sanji? Sneaking off at the same time each evening?

Coincidence.

You definitely weren’t closer than before—laughing a bit more, arguing a bit less, nudging each other when your “secret book club” minds synced up over a line about emotionally repressed sword-bros.

Totally normal.

Totally platonic.

Totally not blushing when someone mentioned tents.

Of course, the crew noticed.

Usopp raised an eyebrow every time the three of you vanished like clockwork. Robin smiled like she knew exactly what was going on (because she did). Luffy asked if you were “training for cuddle combat,” whatever that meant. And Nami… oh, Nami was watching.

Squinting.

Scheming.

Waiting.

That night, you were all nestled in the storage room again, Book 4 spread open between you, page 204, mid-tension scene—shirt torn, unresolved confessions brewing, one bedroll between enemies, classic stuff.

You were all locked in—eyes wide, hearts clenched, no one breathing.

And then—

The door creaked.

You all froze like kids caught mid-crime.

Nami stepped inside.

Zoro snapped the book shut and stuffed it behind a crate so fast it should’ve counted as training. Sanji launched a bag of chips over his shoulder. You casually draped yourself over Zoro’s lap like you’d definitely been there for hours, doing nothing suspicious.

Three faces turned slowly to Nami.

Three smiles.

Too wide.

Too fake.

Too caught.

Nami stopped. Hands on her hips. One brow arched into another dimension.

“…What are you three doing?”

“Just talking,” Sanji said too quickly.

“About life,” you added, tail twitching with anxiety.

Zoro grunted. “Crew stuff.”

Nami scanned the room.

Three suspicious idiots.

One empty snack bag.

One corner with a faintly glowing flashlight behind a crate.

Her eyes narrowed.

She stepped forward.

You all tensed.

She crouched down beside you, smirking faintly.

“Chapter 32 gets steamy,” she said casually.

You let out the tiniest, most panicked “EEE—!”

Sanji went rigid like he’d been struck by lightning. Zoro’s face was a brick wall, but his ears were red. You physically curled in on yourself, trying to vanish into the crate behind you.

Nami stood.

Dusted off her hands.

“And if you want the fifth book,” she added, already turning toward the door, “it’s in my drawer. Beneath the tangerine lotion.”

The door closed behind her.

Silence.

You exhaled like you’d just escaped a war zone.

“…We are so bad at this,” you whispered.

Sanji buried his face in his hands. “She knew everything.”

Zoro just muttered, “We read in fear now.”

You slowly slid the book back out and cracked it open again.

“…Let’s get to chapter 32.”

[stoneagedevil]

WELCOME TO RED’s MASTERLIST!

Have a request? Don’t be shy! But do read Red’s House Rules before you do.

♥️

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) 🎙️

Fics:

“Somethin’ Stupid”

“They’ll Understand” (Somethin’ Stupid Pt. 2)

“Heads or Tails?”

“I’m Not in Love”

“Reunion” (I’m Not in Love Pt. 2)

Headcanons/Imagines:

Moodboards:

Alastor’s Albums:

“Album 1: Side A”

“Album 1: Side B”

Art:

“Glue Trap”

“Kewpies”

“You, and Only You”

♥️

Anton Chigurh (No Country for Old Men) 💵

Fics:

“Coincidence”

“Compound Fracture”

“Little Bird”

“Lucky”

Headcanons/Imagines:

“Heart Headcanon”

Moodboards:

“Red Right Hand”

♥️

Hannibal Lecter (NBC’s Hannibal)🍴

Fics:

“Always”

“Not Like Them”

Headcanons/Imagines:

“Heart Headcanon”

Moodboards:

“Mosquito Song”

♥️

Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) 🦇

Fics:

“Her Song”

“Idiot”

Headcanons/Imagines:

Moodboards:

♥️

Billy Hargrove (Stranger Things) 🏁

Fics:

“Cherry Red, Denim Blue, and White Hot Rage”

Part 2: “Red and Blue (But Mostly Red)”

Headcanons/Imagines:

Moodboards:

♥️

Miguel O’Hara (Spiderman: Across the Spider-Verse) 🕷️

Fics:

“All Will Be Right with the World”

Headcanons/Imagines:

Moodboards:

“Sing For Absolution”

♥️

The Exceptions ⚠️

Note from Red: This section is for things I normally wouldn’t write about/make moodboards for, but felt like attempting nonetheless.

Fics:

“Your Binds” - Llewelyn Moss x f!Reader

[quidfree]

Hello!!! so I love your story Sober II… I was re-reading it back to back with TSH and the way you wrote them felt so true to Tartt’s characterization of them I was absolutely floored to how you captured the essence of the characters in your writing and your extension to their dynamic.

I have a question about your own personal head-canons between the two because I also read your spin off fic of sober II and found myself wondering who you think is the more physically affectionate of the two? I get the feeling that both your Francis and Richard kind of shy away from showing the other affection, or at least quite hesitant in doing so. From what you’ve written I feel like it’s Francis because of little moments like him placing his feet on Richards legs when they’re both on the couch… but in my re-read it’s Richard usually reaching for Francis, or Richard keeping Francis’ hands on him out of instinct. And that bit where they’re in their 40s and Richard suddenly becomes paranoid about how close they were in front of his students. Anyway, sorry for the tangent but I’m simply curious about who you think is the more affectionate of the two!

Also, don’t laugh at me but when you mentioned Anne Carson in your story I fell into a spiral of purchasing a few of her novels and translations and now I’m obsessed. She’s pretty popular but she’s never really be on my own personal radar, so thanks for that!

ahh thanks so much anon- and what, i’m delighted you discovered anne carson through me, not laughable at all!

that’s an interesting question and your analysis is good haha- made me sit and think about my subconscious choices in writing them. i think you’re right that i don’t necessarily see them as affectionate with each other from jump, due to all of richard’s sexuality hangups and francis’ weird relationship to physical affection.

in my head francis is definitely more touchy but it’s like, following a specific set of rules- he’s flirtatiously touchy (see: initiating all his hookups), and casual with the touches if you’re an unthreatening figure in his life (his mother, camilla, etc), but i feel like bc richard is a bit of a complicated situation as of post-canon he’s more withdrawn with him than he might otherwise be (and might have been back in early hampden when he gave less of a shit about richard and also was prodding at him to see if his gaydar was right). he has a lot of walls in place mixed in w his sexual traumas (childhood and otherwise). altho he does tend towards softer than richard, what with the blanket coverings and such.

richard’s thing is 1) he’s the outsider, so he’s more yearning for other people to bring him in than secure in reaching out 2) Men are not for Touching. hes so happy to be part of the pile of limbs in the backseat or get his hair ruffled or hand held or whatever but even in hampden i don’t recall him initiating that very often except when his emotions just overpower him (see the camilla kisses). that said, to your point, i think especially w the benefit of their history and also the traumatic losses they suffered, richard is very reachy- the whole sober ii thing is like. the kind of panicked / instinctive motion to keep what’s left of his hampden days with him. and how that melts into holding onto francis specifically.

anyway they both have that going on. richard is probably more classically touch-starved? but they’re both more comfortable with sex than other touch from what we see- like, it is kind of ironic that the day francis comes to hook up with richard seeking that connection to distract from murder hell is Literally on the heels of richard seeking out a random girl to do the same thing with. they are soo.

they grow into it tho. francis starts it off bc hes like oh right this is someone im hooking up w now so i can do x y and z. but richard’s probably first to go sort of, ah, romantic about it, which then sends francis skittering back a bit. i have a lot of Thoughts abt their physical scars & how those play in.

[beeisntevenhere]

Request Rules !

I realised I havent made an organised post about my requests so here it is lol

☆Fandoms I write !

Mcu

Dc

X-men

MHA/BNHA

Star wars

Actors

Hunger Games

Doctor who

I've seen lots of other stuff so jst ask and I'll probs have seen it

☆ What you can request !

Character x reader - I can't really do M!Reader because I'm not very good at it but NB! or F! yes absolutely just specify, I will do heterosexual BxG, or Homosexual GxG, BxNB, GxNB

Character x Character - This one you can request but it depends on the characters and also it has to follow the rules

Angst - I can write angst although I'm more of a fluff person

Fluff - One of my fav tropes to write I really enjoy it and I love myself some hurt/comfort, i write found family alot so it's probably one of my best tropes

Smut - I can write it but don't expect it to be a 1. A masterpiece 2.Wayy too kinky, there are plenty of writers on this app that can write that better and happily so

Anything not too gory - I don't mind writing gore but I don't know if I'm very good at it, please don't come at me with some horror movie shit tho because I won't do that

Aus - Depends on my mood but overall I will write them

Headcannons - These can be fluffy, smutty, angsty idc I really like writing headcannons but please for the love of God don't ask me for headcannons of a characters private parts I won't spend that much time thinking about that

☆ Things I won't write !

Noncon, Dubcon - nop

Incest - I feel really icky about even writing stepcest so no incest

Abuse - I won't write about said character doing it to reader or reader doing it to character, but characters talking about it for closure and stuff then yes, althought domestic abuse kinda of crosses the line been there done that.

Pedophilia, Zoophilia ect... - No. Althought some agegaps r fine but only if they're legal

Age regression or age play - don't feel comfortable

Watersports, scat, vomit

Feet

Pregnancy

Drugs or being drugged

☆ Other stuff

I won't write smutt of minors all the smut I write they're 18+ or in their adult timeline

I might take a little I do other stuff with my life and writing is not my only hobby

I'm more motivated to write certain characters than others so I might write those faster (they will be listed down below)

Constructive criticism is fine but only when I say I'm okay with it please don't give unwanted criticism

English is not my first language and althought I try to proofread everything I definitely miss some stuff occasionally so I'm sorry if there is any mistakes

I'm not a pro and I'm doing this for free so don't come at me being mean, rude, or disrespectful

☆ At the moment I'm more motivated to write

Anything MCU

Especially:

Bob Reynolds

Any of the mcu characters really

Idk I've reading a bunch of comics so

Some X-men stuff

Especially:

Peter Maximoff

Again I've been reading X-men comics so feel free to request about that too

Any found family

Any Dadneto

Captain marvel (always ⭐️)

I don't consent to my work being posted anywhere else by anyone except me

I dont consent to my work being translated by anyone except me

I dont consent any of my plots to be used by anyone except for me

☆ Any question you maybe have feel free to ask :)

-Bee

[positivelybeastly]

Would you consider Xavier partially responsible for what Hank's become?

"The man is the foremost telepathic talent on the planet. If there's anything I've done that he takes umbrage with, he knows where to find me, and he knows exactly why I did it."

Partially responsible is absolutely what I'd call it, yeah. For starters, Charles snatched Hank up at the age of 17-19, wiped his parents and girlfriend's minds of his existence, and cut them all out of his life for his safety. If he wants to claim he isn't responsible for what Hank ended up doing, he can explain why he decided he was going to supplant Edna and Norton as his sole parental figure.

Now, Hank decides to go with Xavier here, because he does want to contribute, he does want to make a change in the world, because ultimately he believes in the Professor's dream.

But.

It's a fractious relationship.

Like, this is going to have a psychological effect on a teenager. This is going to give him trust issues, this is going to make him feel uncertain and alienated and under pressure. It's also worth noting that Hank, unlike almost all of the rest of the O5 (you could argue the point with Bobby and Warren, but it's certainly true of Scott and Jean, especially in the Krakoan era) never really broke away from the Professor's politics.

He never had a moment where he was able to really walk away from the Professor, denounce him or give him what for, and you could reasonably make the case that it's because the Professor kinda traumatised him here, or at the very least, made Hank dependent on him. He's constantly seeking his validation, his approval, and it colours his teacher's pet tendencies in a very different light.

And while Hank continues to have a fruitful relationship with his actual parents over the years - honestly, he has maybe the healthiest and most loving mom and dad in the Marvel Universe - there's still a degree to which he never, quite, walks away from Xavier. Where he never quite became his own man.

Oddly enough, one of the best examples of this comes during Joss Whedon's Astonishing X-Men run, during the Danger arc. There's a kind of rule that you should be aware of, whenever Hank is in a comic, and it's this: if Hank McCoy is not speaking, then there is a reason that he is not speaking.

Go back and read the issues where they're first talking about the mutant cure. Scott, Emma, Kitty, Logan, they're all talking up a storm, and Hank is just dead fucking silent. No-one notices, no-one brings it up, you just get these panels of him staring out the window. Logan maybe seems to notice? But he leaves it, until Emma tells him what Hank's thinking the next day. He doesn't engage.

Emma just brought up murder, and Hank isn't even paying attention. Because he's emotionally compromised, and he doesn't care about the conversation, he is in his own head, and he does not have anything to contribute. And no-one notices. Even though Hank normally can't shut the fuck up, they just. Don't notice. But this isn't an isolated incident.

The Professor just admitted to oppressing and weaponising a new form of artificial life, a mutant, and everyone has something to say, except Hank. He just looks forlorn. He looks lost. He looks emotionally compromised, because he is dependent on the Professor, and he cannot bring himself to throw scorn upon him.

He's not wired that way. Maybe on some level he's afraid, maybe on another level he's just hurt and unable to articulate it, maybe he just wants to sort it all out in his head, but this is legitimately one of those moments where who doesn't talk is as important as who does. And you see it again during the Utopia era.

Hank is the only one who stands by Xavier's side.

Because that is the way he's wired. There's almost an argument to be made that Scott and Hank are Xavier's favourite sons - the man he chose to lead and steer his dream, and the man who he moulded most in his own image, whether he realised it or not.

The revolutionary and the assimilationist.

Two brothers who used to be so incredibly close, and then it all fell apart - and to be clear, Hank has so many reasons to start hating Scott during this era (no matter what you think of how right Scott's actions may have been, guess what, you can be making all the right tactical calls and still be a fucking monster), but I would absolutely say that the way Scott treated their 'father' is up there and in the mix.

In a more competent version of All-New X-Men, this dynamic, and the fact that 'Scott' killed the Professor, would have been more key to Hank and Scott's destroyed friendship, but instead, it's - all sort of vague, because Bendis' version of Hank is ill sketched out and emotionally inconsistent. But we do get shades of it in Hickman's New Avengers.

This is one of those things that really annoys me about especially the X-Men Reddit - is that they love to point out Hank taking part in this version of the Illuminati, running around being 'amoral super scientists' (they aren't, actually, they spend SO much time agonising over every little decision), even though it isn't even his choice, really. He got drafted, just like he did into the X-Men, and yes, he technically had a choice to leave, but he's in a place where he doesn't feel as though he truly can.

Because of the Professor.

Again.

And eventually, he does start realising just how much the Professor has hurt him, has broken him, has ruined his life, in ways.

There is so much that Hank could have been. He had so much potential, to be anything he wanted. But the Professor chose him. Plucked him from the crowd, and told him, you're going to be this.

In some ways, Hank welcomed it. In other ways, it frightened him, and I don't think it's a coincidence that he's the first X-Man to leave, both temporarily (after he gets nearly beaten to death by a mob in Uncanny X-Men #8), and permanently, when he leaves to work for the Brand Corporation. He's almost always leaving, because he doesn't want to be there. It doesn't suit him. It hurts him.

It poisons him.

And when we come to Krakoa, well . . .

There's a more interesting version of X-Force that more thoroughly investigates why Beast goes the way he does, and it would require talking about Scott and about the Professor, and of course Logan, and the fact that, through their actions, they've taught Beast several things.

That violence works.

That if people disagree with you, by all means try other methods, but change their minds if you must.

That no-one will ever give you what you want, no-one will ever free you or leave you alone, unless you make them.

But instead, it's all off-panel. Xavier just keeps covering for Beast. We don't even see them talk. Beast kills an entire country. Beast's space prison. Every awful little crime against humanity, and Charles has to know. How could he not? People keep telling him, and even if they don't, he's the premiere mutant telepathic talent on the planet.

How could he not know?

The answer is, he does.

And so.

What's the final word, Charles?

Mhm-hmm.

Maybe he's aware just how much he's responsible for this.

Maybe he's just protecting one of his favourite sons. His best pupil.

But no matter how you cut it, he IS responsible.

Just as a lot of the Quiet Council are, frankly, but let's be real here, Xavier is the leader. He is the head of state. Ultimately, it's on him.

And I do want to clarify that this isn't an attempt by me to shift blame away from Beast, because his whackadoodle bullshit garbage characterisation is still canon, as much as I despise it, and while I personally read it as a completely insane break from reality, that's not what's been put on page. He ultimately is responsible for his crimes.

But.

He did not act alone.

[getwhore]

me & ur mama! (jean kirschtein)

❀summary : Jean Kirschtein. He's been your son's best friend for as long as you can remember. He's also had the biggest crush on you since, you've met, as have you, but you're too oblivious to have noticed. It's okay! He'll show you exactly how much he adores you!

❀content warning : modern!au jean x fem/milf!reader , lovers at first sight (kinda) , age gap , almost forbidden love , degrading, praise!!!! , jean's kind of a creep & an asshole , missionary/mating press & backshots , oral (fem recieving) , clit slapping (like twice) , squirting , orgasm denial , abso-fucking-lutely no protection (except reader's birth control) , daddy & mommi kink <3 , kinda get caught so kinda exhibition , jean is also a sadist

❀word count : 6.1k (6,141)

❀a/n : y'all, it took me TWO months to finish this. was it worth it? i surely hope so. to keep it short, i really hope you all enjoy this one! i'm still working on some more wips, but i'm open to any requests :) (just plssss read my rules first, ty!!)

Your son Connie finally returns from college today. Even though you're eager to see him, you've been a little uneasy because he's bringing someone. You won't know who it is until they both enter the room, which is unfortunate for you. Like any other mother, you immediately assumed he was bringing a girlfriend or even a boyfriend! This, however, was not at all the case.

You’ve spent all day cleaning your home, baking cookies, cooking dinner, and anything else to make Connie and his company feel more than welcome. Just as you pulled your cookies out of the scalding oven, you heard Connie calling out for you. Immediately, you leave your cookies on the counter, and quickly make your way to the front door. Out of pure excitement, you’ve completely ignored the tall man standing beside Connie. You shower Connie with kisses, squeezing him with all of your strength.

“Mom, you’re fuckin’ squeezing me to death.” Connie gasped, trying his hardest to pry you off of his body.

“I’ve just missed you so much! I don’t think you understand how lonely I am when you leave!” You squeezed him harder, only letting go once you felt that you’ve made him suffer enough. When you pulled away from him, you were able to get a clear view of who walked in the door with him. When you did realize who it was, your heart began beating rapidly.

“I can’t believe I was so rude to completely ignore your presence! It’s so great to see you again, Jean!” You pulled him into a hug as well, pressing his face into your cleavage. Though it was accidental, you received absolutely no complaints from Jean.

“It’s great to see you too, Ms. l/n. Have you gotten shorter since the last time we saw each other?”

You giggled, making your chest bounce against Jean’s cheek. He didn’t intend for you to find the joke funny. All he needed was a slight chuckle to get your breasts to somewhat bounce against him. Unfortunately for him, you eventually pulled him from your chest.

“You boys make yourselves comfortable! I’m almost finished with dinner.” You smiled at both men before making your way back into the kitchen.

You stayed in the kitchen for the following 30 minutes in silence. You believed Connie and Jean had gone upstairs to unpack and take a nap before dinner. Only one puzzle piece was still missing. Jean had come downstairs for a "drink of water". You had no idea that Jean had been watching from a distance. He had been observing your every move—the way you knelt down to pick up a pan, the way you reached for the spices in the cabinet while standing on the tips of your toes, the way your ass would jiggle ever so slightly as you lowered yourself to the floor. He kept an eye on everything you did. He was more than just aroused, to put it mildly. Though he would have loved to act like the pervert he is and jerk off to you in the hallway, he decided that getting close to you would be preferable. Before entering the kitchen, he put himself together in the hallway. Hearing his footsteps enter the kitchen, you spun around.

“Hey Jean! I hope you aren’t down here for dinner because it’s far from ready.” You grimaced as you looked into the pot on the stove.

“Nah, I came for water, but I’ll gladly take one of these cookies.” Jean made his way over to the plate of cookies. He went to grab one, but you immediately snatched his hand away.

“Nuh-uh, no cookies until after dinner! You’ll spoil your appetite, and I spent a lot of time on this dinner.”

He was barely able to maintain eye contact with you. You were slightly taller than him, so he was almost eye level to your tits. If he wasn’t staring at your tits, he was staring at your lips, imagining how soft they’d feel wrapped around his cock. Ultimately, his body made him lose his entire train of thought.

“What exactly are you making for dinner? You’ve been stirring that pot for forever.”

“It was my attempt at spaghetti. It’s Connie's favorite, and I wanted it to welcome him home. The only problem is, I have no idea how to make it a little spicier. I’ve tried chili powder, I’ve tried pepper, I’ve tried red pepper flakes, hell, I’ve even tried hot sauce! I just can’t seem to get it right.”

You sulked as Jean observed. He made an effort to comprehend how significant this lunch was to you. You wanted Connie's first night home in a year to be memorable because it was. Your spaghetti, however, did not resemble spaghetti at all. In fact, it resembled overcooked noodles drenched in a vomit like green sauce. However, he would keep that a secret. Even though he's an asshole, he wouldn't be so cruel as to make fun of you for trying. Instead, he comfortingly gripped your shoulders.

“Y’know, you don't have to make dinner. Honestly, we’ve had a long drive, and something light would be better. Plus, I wanna try that pool of yours out and I can’t do that on a heavy stomach.”

You started to cry a little, but Jean's kindness made you laugh. You two decided that perhaps a lighter supper would be better for all of you. You all caught up over pizza that evening. The more you laughed during the night thanks to Connie, the more Jean could observe the vulgar bouncing of your breasts. He glanced a couple times, and you saw it, but you didn't think much of it.

Once you all finished with dinner, Jean volunteered to help you with the dishes while Connie took his shower. You appreciated the company, especially since it’ll give you a chance to catch up with Jean. For Jean, it gave him an opportunity to find some way between your legs.

“So, how’s college? I had no idea you and Connie were going to the same college! Then again, he never does tell me anything about his life.”

Jean chuckled as he handed you the soapy plate for you to rinse. “Well, college is college. Lots of books, lots of people, lots of classes, and everything else. However, the only thing that’s missing are the pretty girls.”

His words made you feel somewhat jealous. He was so young and had so much life to live. You knew there was almost no chance that you’d be with him. You were able to cope with that when he and Connie were in a whole other state. Now that he’s here in the same kitchen as you, so close to you, it’s harder to ignore your feelings.

“Well, don’t spend all your time in college looking for a girl. You have a lot of life ahead of you and there’s more important things besides looking for a relationship.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right, Ms. l/n.”

You sighed and looked at him. “Jean, I’ve told you multiple times to just call me y/n. There’s no need for formalities.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just don’t want to be disrespectful to such a beautiful woman.”

Hearing that made you blush heavily. You couldn’t tell if it was from the 3 glasses of wine you had 20 minutes before, or if it was because Jean had called you beautiful very unexpectedly.

“It isn’t disrespectful if I’ve already said it was okay! You’ve been friends with Connie for years and I’m glad you have. He’s happy with your friendship, so I’m even more happy!”

Jean smiled at you, not exactly knowing how exactly he should respond without obviously flirting with you. Once you finished with the dishes, you made your promise to Jean. You slipped into your two-piece bikini and made your way into the pool area. When you arrived, Jean was nowhere to be seen. While you waited, you went ahead and got into the pool, trying to get used to the water temperature before Jean came to join you. When he did finally come outside, you were turned away from him, giving him a full view of your ass. The bikini you wore left little to the imagination, it barely even covered your ass. It might as well have been non-existent. All Jean could do was stare, wondering how your ass would look while taking you from behind, how it would look while you’re on your knees sucking his cock. When you turned around, he realized just how revealing your bikini was. The top was worse than the bottom. The way it hugged tightly around your large breasts made Jean want to do nothing more than take you where you stood.

“Jean, honey are you okay? You look really flushed. We don’t have to swim today if you aren’t feeling well.”

God the way you said his name made him even harder than he was before. He simply shook his head, trying to rid himself of his lewd thoughts as he walked to the edge of the pool. Seeing the way Jean looked down at you with a slight smirk made your cunt throb. You haven’t felt this way in forever. You couldn’t even maintain eye contact with Jean with the way he was making you feel.

“Nah, I’m good. ‘S just kinda warm out here.” Jean chuckled lightly.

Eventually, Jean joined you in the pool, swimming towards you. When he did reach you, you couldn’t help but stand there and stare at him. The way his body looked, the way he looked at you, the way his eyes bored into you. Everything and anything Jean did made you feel weak, and he could see it. He could see how tense you got when he moved closer to you. He could see your eyes shifting from his body to his face, then from his face to the growing tent in his pants. 

“Are you gonna stop staring, or am I gonna have to make you?”

You hadn’t even realized how long you were staring until he pointed it out. This made you instantly blush. The embarrassment kept you from being able to actually respond to his question. As he waited for your answer, you were trying your hardest to muster the courage to respond without sounding stupid.

“I-I wasn’t staring! I was only looking at the rose bush! It’s not my problem that you just happen to be standing directly in front of it.”

He chuckled..well, no. He laughed. He laughed at your response. You knew that he knew you were lying right through your teeth. All you could do was stand there, watching as he tried to catch his breath, but everytime he did, he just laughed even harder. Finally, after forever, he stopped laughing.

“That was the best excuse you could come up with? C’mon, I thought you’d give me something way more believable.”

“You are standing in front of the rose bush though.”

“Stop it with the damn rose bush. You can’t stare at something below you and something above you at the same time.”

“Jean, what the hell are you talking about?”

Jean sighed. At this point, he knew you would keep rambling just to avoid the confrontation. However, he couldn’t stand listening to you ramble about the damn rose bush any longer.

“You were staring at my dick. And before you even start with that goddamn rose bush, I saw you repeatedly look up at me and then back down at my pants. If you wanna touch it, just say that.”

“Excuse me?! Jean, that is extremely inappropriate of you to say something like that. Even if I did, I would never grope my son’s friend. That would be irresponsible of me as a mother.”

“If you give such a shit about being responsible, why are you still fighting the urge to stare at my cock?”

He was right. You had been holding your hands tightly in front of you. In reality, you desperately wanted to touch his cock. As much as you hate to admit it, you could give a shit less about being responsible or respected by Jean. In fact, you’d rather him be disrespectful to you. Just you biting your lip was enough of an answer for Jean. Without thinking, he picked you up, setting you on the edge of the pool. As of now, he was face to face with your breasts. Being this close to them for the second time of the night made him groan. 

You hold back a moan as Jean roughly grabs your tits. The way they overflow from his big hands make you whine. Jean didn’t look up at you once. He was mainly concerned about how soft your tits were and how perky your nipples were as they pebbled through your bikini top. 

“Not so worried about being such a ‘responsible mother’ now, are you?” Jean chuckles at your shy, but lewd reaction.

“Jean, you should stop! Connie might come out any minute!”

He didn’t stop though. He knew you couldn’t care less about your son coming out and catching the both of you. “C’mon, you know Connie. He goes right to sleep after his showers, and, as long as you don’t get too loud, he won’t catch us. Though, you might like the idea of him actually coming down and catching us.”

Yeah you definitely would love that idea, but it’s too early to try anything like that. You shouldn’t even be letting him touch you. Especially not so lewdly. You’d been so caught up in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realized that Jean was untying your bikini top until it was too late. Before you could protest, Jean pulled you into a kiss. It wasn’t the romantic kind of kiss that you’d be looking forward to. This kiss was more heated, more passionate. The aggressive hand behind your head pulling you closer to his lips, the rough clashing of teeth, the lewd exchange of each other’s saliva, all of it was enough to make you soaked in your bikini bottoms. You’d been so caught up in your lewd exchange of kisses with Jean, you hadn’t seen Jean’s hand creep up towards your middle. Though, even if you had noticed, you wouldn’t have stopped him.

“Jean, are you sure you want to do this? I’d hate to let my feelings come between you and my son’s relationship”

Jean knew you were trying to be sincere about it, but he also knew you wanted this as much as he did, even if it did hurt the relationship between him and your son.

“Of course I’m sure. How couldn’t I be when you’re practically begging me to fuck you. The question is, are you sure, Ms. l/n?” Jean watches your face redden when your last name smoothly and sexily rolls off his tongue.

Even if you weren’t so sure, it’s not like you could back out now. Especially not when he’s got one hand tightly gripping your waist and one hand pinching and twisting your sensitive nipples through your tiny bikini top. He knew you wouldn’t pass up this opportunity, knew you’d do anything to feel him inside of you.

As hard as you fought to speak through your moans, you merely failed, barely managing to whisper ‘Yeah, ‘m suuuure’, as your words began to slur. He couldn’t help but laugh a little at the way he was already mushing your brain. All you needed was a little push, and you were like putty in his hands.

“Yeah..yeah you are sure. Especially with how wet you are, how couldn’t you be sure?” Jean mocked you as he ran a finger through your slit. The squeal that left you made him shiver. He ached to touch you, he yearned to feel you, but he knew that making you beg for it would have a greater outcome.

“Jean-fuuuck!” You threw your head back, slightly grinding your hips into his finger. You knew he was teasing you like this on purpose, but who were you to not give him what he wants?

“C’mon, you complained about being too loud, but it seems like you want Connie to find you like this.” Jean pulled his finger away, immediately popping it into his mouth. He deeply sighed, the taste of you on his tongue making him want to do more than turn you into a brainless slut.

“First, you open the door in that tight ass shirt, and that tiny little pair of shorts with your cute little baking apron tied tightly around your hips.” Jean kissed down your body, inching ever so slowly towards your pussy. “Then, you prance around the house, looking like such a slut with these tits out. It’s like you wanted me to fuck you. And now, here you are, begging me to touch that slutty pussy, begging me to make you cum all over my face. You could care less if your son caught us. You wouldn’t stop me no matter how embarrassed you are. You want me to fuck you, to own you, to disrespect that nasty cunt until you cum.”

He was right. You wanted nothing more than to let Jean have complete control of your body and you could give less of a shit if Connie were to see. In fact, a small part of you hoped that he would see. Somehow, the thought of getting caught having sex with your son’s best friend made you wetter than before. At this point, you were done with the teasing, willing to do anything just to finally have Jean inside of you.

“J-Jean, please just fuck me”, You whimpered, watching Jean pay no attention to your begging and pleading . His focus was strictly on your cunt and the way it tightly clenched when his breath fanned over it.

“Nah, you don’t deserve it yet.” Jean pressed his thumb to your clit, watching how you immediately arch into his touch. As much as he adored the way you whined and grabbed at his wrist to keep his thumb in its place, he didn’t like how you thought you had any kind of control in this situation. Instead of punishing you for it, he let it slide just this once. “Stop movin’ so much or I won’t give you anything.”

You couldn’t even voice a response before Jean licked a long, and tantalizing slow stripe up your slit. The way his tongue laid flat against your clit, slightly flicking it up while rubbing your entrance with his thumb. Jean saw exactly how he made you feel. He calculated every movement you made and tried his hardest to make you do it over and over and-

“Are you even listenin’ to me? ‘Course you’re not, you’re too busy trying to get yourself off on my tongue.” Jean deeply sighed as he removed himself from between your legs.

“N-No! I was listening, I promise! Pleas-” You sobbed, grabbing onto Jean. You were immediately shut down when he grabbed your face in one hand, forcing you to look at him. The deadly glare, the orgasm that he denied you from, the aggression of his hand on your face, all of it was enough to have your eyes watering and your bottom lip wobbling.

“Shut the fuck up. ‘M so tired of listening to you whine and cry like a pathetic bitch.” Jean briefly let go of your face, but not for your own relief. He immediately used that hand to grab your throat while he used his other to slap you a bit. “You’re so used to gettin’ what you want. You’ve got the perfect life, the perfect body, the perfect son, everything. You’re just a spoiled fuckin’ brat and I’m tired of it.”

“‘M sorry Jean, wont whine anymore, I won’t complain, I’ll take anything you give me. Just..just wanna feel you, all of you.” You cried, grabbing onto the back of his neck. His expression softened a little, giving you the opportunity to kiss him. Not a slow kiss, but more of a passionate, steamy kiss. A kiss to let him know he had full control of you. When he pulled away, he let go of your neck, pushing himself out of the pool by its walls. Quickly, he picked you up and laid you onto one of your pool chairs nearby. 

As you laid helplessly on the chair, you watched Jean untie his swim shorts at a quick pace. He couldn’t wait anymore. As much as he wanted to continue teasing you until you had dry tears on your face, he just couldn’t wait to be inside of you for any longer. Even still, he was going to make sure you did know exactly who you belonged to. When he removed his shorts, you had a full view of his cock. He was definitely bigger out of his shorts than in. The sight made more than just your mouth water, and Jean could see the desperation in your face. He wasted no time moving between your legs, finally removing your bikini bottoms and tossing them to the side.

“I didn’t get to fully prep you this time, so I’ll be gentle, okay? If it hurts at any time, don’t hesitate to tell me to stop” Jean looked down at you with sincerity in his eyes. The lust that once clouded his eyes was gone, at least for now. All he cared about in this moment was making you feel so so good.

“Mhmm, I’ll tell you. I just wanna feel you, Jean. All of you.” You pulled his face down for another kiss, feeling his cock lightly brush against your cunt. Jean eventually pulled away, pushing your legs up slightly and asking you to hold them in that exact position. Once he got your verbal agreement, he slowly stroked himself over your pussy. He dipped the tip between your lips, rubbing it against your clit to make you twitch. He teased a little more by rubbing himself up and down your slit soooo slowly, just until he heard you softly beg him to ‘fucking put it in already’.

“Remember, just relax. It’s gonna hurt a little, but if it’s too much, I’ll stop.” Jean groaned out as he began slowly pushing into you. The way you instantly tightened around him made him moan a little louder than before. The deeper he pushed into you, the tighter you’d get. “C’mon baby, you’re doing so good for me, so so good. Just keep relaxing for me.”

“Faster, please-fuck Jean- faster! I wanna feel all of you.” You cried out as you felt the tip of his cock jerk against that soft spot inside of your cunt. You pulled your legs up closter towards your chest, giving him more access to your deepest parts. All Jean could do was groan at your neediness, pushing himself deeper into you per your demand. As much as he did want to keep going slow for you, he could tell that all you wanted was for him to just fuck you already. So, he shoved the last few inches into you with a harsh thrust, him groaning while you squeal loudly at the sudden aggression. Once he felt your walls relax around him, he wasted no time taking control. He replaced your hands on the backs of your thighs with his, pushing them impossibly close towards your chest.

“You want me to fuck you, huh? That’s what you want? Tell me, tell me you want me to fuck you.” Jean grinded his cock into you as he watched you twitch from the stimulation. As much as he did enjoy watching you feel so good, he still didn’t get any answer. “C’mon, you can act brainless later. I need your answer now, or I’m pulling out.”

The threat of him pulling out, completely withdrawing from your cunt, made you immediately begin to beg. “N-No! Don’t pull out please, I need you to fuck me! Please-” The rest of your begging became nothing more than a few babbles and even more moans and squeals as Jean finally began driving himself into your cunt with sharp and methodical thrusts. The more you moaned, the more tempted he felt to get even faster, just to see if you could get even louder. He wanted to alert Connie, he wanted your son to come downstairs and see her being fucked stupid in her backyard by his best friend.

Jean removed his hands from your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he bent over to kiss you. He knew you wouldn’t be able to kiss him back as much since the stimulation was too much for you. You were more focused on chasing that orgasm that he denied you from earlier. Luckily for you, that’s all Jean wanted to do. He couldn’t even think of cumming before making you cum for him first. To achieve this, he picked you up slightly by your waist, making your back arch upward, making it so much easier for his cock to continuously drive into that sensitive spot. Every thrust he gave you managed to hit that spot on the way in and on the way out. It made your eyes water, it made your mouth water, it made your toes curl, it made you feel so close. But, wait..did you always have to pee?

“Wait, Jean! I gotta-shit!-gotta pee! You gotta stop!” You thrashed in his hold as you squealed. He didn’t stop though, just let go of your hips and pushed your legs back into your chest.

“You’ve never even squirted before? Shiiit baby, I’m about to make your first time the best time.” Jean used one hand to thumb your clit while he slowed his strokes down slightly. At this moment, it’s not about speed. It’s all about precision. Jean continues a medium pace, but he hits that spot even harder now, continuing to rub your clit in slow circles. When he looks down at your cunt, he can see the white ring you’re leaving at the base of his cock. All he can do is moan at the sight as he spits on your clit for more lubricant. When he does this, you begin squirming even more than before. He fucks you through the squirming, but he does try to urge you to calm down.

“C’mon baby, stop squirmin’ and let yourself go. I’m not stoppin’ till you make a fucking mess.” Jean groans out while lightly slapping your clit. At this point, your toes hurt from curling so hard and you’re seeing stars. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, and so can Jean.

“Jean, don’t stop! ‘M gonna-ugnn!-gonna cum! Lemme cum, please, I need it!” You beg, plead, and moan ever so loudly. Jean just knows now that Connie can hear all the noise you’re making. “Nobody’s stoppin’ you baby, let go.” Jean continues lightly slapping your clit while you continue to squirm and thrash around in his hold. Finally, with one more hard thrust, one more slap against your clit, and that dark look in Jean’s eyes, you let go. You can barely feel your lower half when you do, and your vision turns bright white with a loud ringing in your ears.

“Fuuuck, there you fuckin’ go, baby! That’s what I wanted.” Jean chucked as you squirt all over his chest, making the biggest mess with the loudest and most erotic moans. Just the sight of tears running down your face and juices still sputtering from your cunt is enough to make Jean want to cum. But, he needs one more. One more toe curling, spine aching, mess making orgasm out of you.

Once you came down from your mind shattering orgasm, Jean made no hesitation to prop you up on your knees, ass high up in the air. He expected to hear some protesting from you, but was excited to hear absolutely no complaints. The sight of you still trembling and trying to hold yourself up was enough to make Jean’s cock twitch a little. 

“J-Jean, please..” You reached behind you with a shaky hand, trying to, somehow, pull him closer to you. “Want’ you inside again, wanna cum again, please.” You whined out to him, trying to push your ass towards his groin, trying to at least feel the tip of his cock against your throbbing clit. But, to your dismay, Jean didn’t show the slightest bit of sympathy for you or your throbbing cunt.

“Awwh, you want me back inside? That’s so adorable baby, but-” Jean started, forcing the arm you used to grab him behind your back, resting right above your hip. With this newfound grip on you, Jean had a little more control of your actions than he did before. “You don’t get to have my cock whenever you want it. You can have my cock when I feel like you deserve it, and right now, I don’t feel like you do.”

You went to struggle against the restraint he had against your arm, which pissed him off even more. “No! Please, I want it! I deserve it, I’ve been so good!” You pleaded desperately. Though he loved listening to you beg for him, part of him wanted to hear you beg a little better than that.

“I know baby, I know.” Jean cooed at you, using his free hand to rub your ass softly. The way you leaned back into his touch, the way you just gave your body to him made his next choice of words come to him so much easier. “You gotta do somethin’ for me, okay pretty? If you can do this right, I’ll make you cum again.”

You immediately perked up, turning your head to look at him. “Mhm, I’ll do ‘nything for you, anything to cum.”

“Alright, if you say so honey. I need you to hold out for me, okay? Gonna get myself close, then I’ll let you cum.” Jean let go of the arm he had restrained behind you, still smoothing his hands over your ass. Once he heard your grunts of approval, and the tiny nodding of your head, he finally pushed himself back into your cunt. The deeper he forced himself, the closer you got to cumming, and Jean could feel it.

Your loud moans were like music to Jean’s ears, proof that he was making you feel so good, better than anyone’s made you feel. You could already feel yourself right at the edge, but you knew what you had to do, you knew what Jean wanted, and you knew what would happen if he didn’t get exactly that. Jean could feel how close you were, but he didn’t intend to make this easy for you. Where’s the fun in that? Instead of just letting you sit there while he does all the work, Jean stops moving, urging you to do it for him. “C’mon, slut. Be a gooood girl and push yourself back onto my cock. Don’t you fucking cum either, just work yourself on my co-yeah, that’s it.”

You tried your hardest to ground yourself as you rocked back and forth onto Jean’s cock. Each time he slipped out of you, it was hard for you to push him back in with how tightly you were clenching. You fought hard to not pull his cock out of you completely, but the stimulation from your last orgasm and your upcoming orgasm made it even harder. When you did pull too far, when he did ‘accidentally’ slip out, you made your best attempts to reach behind you and guide him back inside. Jean watched you struggle to keep your pace while not cumming, which pushed him closer to his release, but it wasn’t close enough.

Jean slowed your hips with a rough grip to your hips. When you looked behind you to find what the problem was, Jean took that as an opportunity to grab you by your neck. The way he tilted your head back so far made your back arch more. Though you could hardly breathe from the restraint he had on your neck, you still managed to keep your mouth shut. Jean stared down at you like this for a while until he spoke. “I’m almost there, honey. Just gotta take control for a bit, and then I’ll let you cum. Sound good?” He cooed at you as he began to continue thrusting into your poor, abused cunt. All you could do was nod. 

The restraint around your neck made it hard to speak, so you used your moans and your body language to speak to him. The way your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open was enough to let Jean know just how far gone you were. This was exactly what he wanted. From the day Connie introduced him to you, he’s wanted to just take you and fuck you stupid. You’ve been dodging his previous attempts, which made him all the more attracted to you. He was glad that you’d finally given up the good girl facade and just let him take over.

Your loud squealing brought Jean back to reality. He watched as your legs began to shake, your breathing began to become shaky. Jean let go of your neck, letting your head fall back into the poolside chair. He slowly inched his hand lower, rubbing rough circles on your clit. The reaction he got from you told him more than he needed to know. You were close, and if he didn’t catch up to you, you’d cum whether any of you wanted to or not. Jean began picking up the pace of his thrusts, listening to your muffled cries.

“Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what you need.” Jean rubbed your clit faster, watching you grip the sides of the chair. You tried your hardest to muster up the courage to open your mouth, to speak in full sentences, but with the way he was thrusting inside of you, you had many complications. “Pleease, please fill me up! I wan’ all of your cum inside of me daddy please!”

Jean’s breath hitched. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He grabbed your head, pulling you up to meet his chest. “Repeat that, would you? Say that shit again, I wanna hear you loud and clear.” He growled into your ear, slightly slowing his thrusts to bring your attention back to him.

“Fill me up daddy! Ohmygod yes!-I want you to make me a mommy, wanna have your babies!” You sobbed, holding onto the hand that’s been manipulating your puffy clit.

“Yeah? You want me to make ya a momma again? You wanna really made me a daddy? Well, c’mon and cum so I can fill this mommy cunt up baby.” Jean picked his thrusts up again, rubbing your clit even faster. You finally began to feel yourself get closer and closer, felt that heat in your gut begin to slowly disappear, until finally, finally, you came all over Jean. You felt it drip down your thighs, watched it soak into the poolside chair. Jean let you go, letting your limp body fall forward as he continued to sloppily thrust himself into you. You could hear him mumble something, but your mind was so fuzzy, which made it harder to comprehend anything. Finally, Jean slowed his thrusts, and you could feel his cum fill you up. 

When he stopped his thrusting, he pulled out of you, pulling his swim shorts back on. As he looked up toward your son’s window, he could see Connie watching with rage in his face. All Jean did was wave and grab pieces of your swimsuit. He would’ve loved to stay and watch you struggle to get back into your swimsuit, he had to leave before Connie beat him to a pulp.

“I gotta go, but let me know if you do, you know, end up pregnant” Jean slightly giggled at your attempt to nod your head at him. “I would advise you take an after pill, wouldn’t want ya getting knocked up.”

“‘M on birth control, Jean. Not havin’ anymore kids.” Your words were still slurring, trying to ground yourself once again so you could somehow make it up to your son.

“If ya say so. If you do wanna do this again, just call me. You have my number, I’m sure.” And with that, Jean went back into your house.  Though your son will never forgive you for ruining his friendship for some dick, you definitely don't regret your choices. If you could do it again, you would. Over, and over, and over, and over again <3.

[sungbeam]

𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒: THE SOULMATE EXHIBIT

your soul feels so awfully familiar — are our relationships and connections pre-destined? perhaps in another life, another universe, or even in the timeline we exist in, we are linked to others who's fates have been etched into our very bones. shall we explore those possibilities?the sungbeam observatory proudly presents THE SOULMATE EXHIBIT COLLABORATION.

a note from our curator: you all have no idea how EXCITED i am for this >< it means the absolute world to have 1k+ of you stargazers here with me, reading, writing and bonding over things we're passionate abt (yes, barking over korean men is now something i am passionate abt). thank u to those who have supported my ✨journey ✨, and who i have met along the way. it's really cliché to say, but i really didn't think 1k was in my stars haha but here we are :') so please do continue to look forward to what's to come (omg sorry i didn't mean for that to become an oscar's acceptance speech (;_;)

— ✶ signed, duckie x

our theme, if one could not tell, is SOULMATES! yes, we're talking the beloved soulmate au! u have complete creative freedom over the soulmate system and the logistics of your world—your fic just has to feature *a* soulmate au.

some RULES & GUIDELINES before we enter the exhibition hall:

✶ only member x reader and member x oc is allowed; member x member is NOT allowed

✶ as i mentioned in the survey, this collab will be SFW content with suggestive themes allowed

✶ slots are FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE! i'm not holding any slots for anyone, except for myself

✶ including the slot i have selected for myself, there are a total of 15 SLOTS! this collab is open to ALL active k-pop groups, so there are no certain amount of slots for specific groups, but you must reserve a spot in the exhibition hall! all works will then be compiled into a masterlist for easy access~

✶ all genres are cool w me 😎 but only drabbles and oneshots will be allowed! no series and no texts (and none of the following themes either pls: su*c*de, r*pe, p*doph*l*a, etc.)

✶ the minimum word count is 1K WORDS, and a keep reading link MUST be inserted after the usual information/summeries/beginning

✶ i'm making a discord for additional announcements/reminders, but it can also be used for chatting, brainstorming, etc. i'm bad at the discord thing, so i will try my best! joining is HIGHLY encouraged (u don't even have to say anything in the server lol)

✶ to be confirmed, pls also reblog this announcement post! (key: one and only)

✶ the drop out date will be october 1st, and fics will be due april 1st 🤡 (any changes will be announced, however) — hopefully that gives everyone lots of wiggle room to write! i don't want this to be stressful for anybody :]

✶ once your fic is completed, pls do TAG ME and include # eternally yours collab in your tags!

READY TO DISCOVER YOUR SOULMATE IN THIS VAST UNIVERSE? — ☆

secure your place in the exhibit here

**NOTE: the form will ask you for what GROUP you intend to write for. this can change after you are confirmed, but pls do let me know <3

13 / 15 slots confirmed — our guest speakers:

01:00 @sungbeam, tbz

02:00 @jaehunnyy, ateez

03:00 @sunlightwoo, txt

04:00 @ethereal-engene, svt

05:00 @daegall, nct dream/127

06:00 @justalildumpling, nct dream

07:00 @loveliestfelix, txt

08:00 @maiademia, svt

09:00 @tranquilpetrichor, ateez

10:00 @restlessmaknae, oneus

11:00 @soobeaniee, txt

12:00 @honeyhuii, svt

13:00 @taem-min, shinee

[sanguineterrain]

marvel masterlist

note: some fics are linked to ao3.

all of my readers use female pronouns unless noted otherwise.

ONE-SHOTS.

☆ brooklyn honey.  ─ 1940s!bucky barnes x reader

life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got bucky and he’s got you. (fluff, slight angst)

☆ think of me. ─ 1940s!bucky barnes x reader

bucky realizes he’s gone for you, but you’re not for him. (angst)

☆ warmth.  ─ tfatws!bucky barnes x reader (no gendered pronouns)

after the club scene in madripoor, you remind bucky that he’s still good. (angst and fluff)

☆ go easy.  ─ bucky barnes x reader (no gendered pronouns)

written for the #healinghandschallenge! bucky barnes healing from touch starvation. (fluff, comfort)

☆ better love.  ─ bucky barnes x reader (no gendered pronouns)

you're helping him learn who he is, who he'll become. bucky doesn't know much about that, doubts he'll ever become more than he used to be. but he's sure that wherever he's going, he wants you by his side. (angst, recovering bucky, read warnings, fluffy ending).

☆ and the beauty of it all. ─ loki laufeyson x reader (ao3)

you and loki manage to sneak away from a palace celebration—you have the brilliant idea to go swimming. (fluff)

SERIES.

♡ the mess.  ─ bucky barnes x reader (ao3, series complete)

one wild night in vegas changes everything between you and bucky. now you’re stuck together for what looks like the foreseeable future. except, you hate bucky barnes. and he hates you. right? (fluff, angst, enemies/idiots to lovers)

♡ no such thing. ─ college!bucky barnes x reader (series complete)

you’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular center. you don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: james barnes is insufferable. (rivalry/enemies to lovers, college au, football jock!bucky, reader is a sassy gal)

♡ on wings of fate.  ─ knight!steve rogers x princess!fem!reader x pirate!bucky barnes (series in progress)

you meet a kind stranger one day in the marketplace. he's a pirate, but a good man, he swears. your knight isn't so sure, but oh, what does he know? you like the pirate; his eyes are like the sea and his smile... oh, his smile is trouble. yet from the moment he docked at your kingdom's port, you just may have bargained for more than the three of you could ever imagined. (royalty/pirate au, fantasy, adventure, they’re all absolutely head over heels for each other <3 )

♡ redemption at sundown.  ─ outlaw!bucky barnes x outlaw!reader x marshal!steve rogers (ao3, series on hold)

you and bucky barnes are, perhaps, the best couple of thieves this side of the rockies. grief for bankers and sheriffs alike, you two are firmly planted on one side of the law—the one with no rules to the game. then, during a job that nearly goes sideways, you chance upon a meeting with the infuriatingly virtuous U.S. marshal rogers. he’s six-foot-two of the worst kind of trouble, ‘cause steve rogers is a good man. and good men always complicate things. (slight enemies to lovers, established relationship, old west au)

BLURBS.

▻ college nerd!bucky x fem!reader

▻ steve rogers x fem!reader  ─ “when i say run, i need you to do as i say and don't even think about me."

▻ 40s!steve rogers x fem!reader  ─ steve returns from war and seeks out the reader.

▻ steve rogers x fem!reader ─ SMUT. dom!steve.

[firespirited]

i actually don't agree with *parts* of the book because it's pitting two things against each other when it was three or four and intertwining:

Read more because this is rambly and long.

at times church and state allied against women, at times heretics and state against church dominion.

so when you have to cite history in france, there's something going on in england that's often the opposite. I think it would have worked better as a "here's what capitalism learned from the roman empire with regards to women" not "here's what capitalism invented" but capitalism sure knew how to weaponize it.

so it's absolutely not wrong, in fact it's the missing piece from class analysis, it's just that the seeds are older and basing the cornerstone of the theory on the witch hunts would require us to have a much more solid documentation of those witch hunts whereas we do and Federici does have a very solid documentation of how capitalism requires women's exploitation and death, and the destruction of any rebel women/queer men by any name except a witch hunt because the witch hunt itself is seen as a hysterical, irrational and long-lost stupidity that we definitely don't do anymore in the name of science and order or law or the tabloids or profits. 🤔🤔🤔

So why am i saying this? Because I come from two countries in which church and state were in bed together one day and at each other's throats the next, philosophers and scientists that rebelled in some areas were co-opted by or collaborated with the powers they rebelled against or they started out as agents then rebelled later in life. The wartime leaders who give us freedom turn around and give us oppression, the guys who give us abortion do so because they don't want bastard children. So looking at something as fractured and complex as the witch hunts instead of documented policies on a countrywide or now worldwide scales is looking for a systemic patterns at a time when we can't even talk of united kingdoms. It's also a messy time for witchcraft vs heresy killings, small scale village politics vs mass scale political repression. Looking for patterns is difficult and has to be done in broad strokes. Bloody Mary wasn't any less bloody than Elizabeth, Liz1 just got to write the history books. The french revolution led straight to another king then an emperor because uprisings and social growth are stuttering staggering things.

again, Federici is not wrong, it's just not easily provable at that specific time and absolutely provable once some parts of western europe became full countries and if we decide to call the catholic church what it is: the roman empire 2.0 (not Italy and sometimes part of Italy) a form of state that's in conflict with other states when it's not ruling them or ruling by proxy.

aaaaand uh I made the mistake of recommending this book to mum who has a special interest in the history of the church and various protestant movements and am writing this to put down my pre-emptive "please don't throw out the book because you happen to know x and y happened in the 14th century that contradict the conclusion of event z in the book" The thesis is legit it's more sociology that works historically as an overall trend during the witch trials and law/movements after the witch trials because our historical records and actual history at that time is more messy...

also applying it to the here and now is very good too, let's not get stuck on the word witch here when we still demonize 'improper' women and that's also the point of quite a few of the historical "witch" trials.

woop woop, turns out dialectic reading comes naturally when you were raised with a nitpicky, argumentative, devils advocate and passionate discussion loving parent.

I'm not even more than a chapter or two in T_T;;

Caliban and the Witch is amazing. Just amazing. I also only got a few pages in (other than extracts/clippings) because it's so dense. The audiobook would only be harder to parse.

I *know *the world needs a 6 hour miniseries of example stories that not only shows how previous theory didn't account for women's work or thought capitalist girlbosses would fix things. I sure need this in digestible illustrated chunks.

Can't even get far enough to see what it has to say about the elderly/disabled. Complete brain freeze. Good stuff though,

wooof I need the annotated version though, the sparksnotes, the "for dummies" even.