#full of people before I do the walk of shame back to my house

[chaseprice]

A student who earlier in the day was being so disrespectful that I just had to stop the lesson and sigh loudly saw me crying in the hallway hours later and checked in on me and gave me a hug

[foldingfittedsheets]

Since I already have established myself as a little pickle freak with no shame I have another extremely embarrassing story that will probably make you laugh.

When I started dating Brendan he was still living at home, but after we'd been dating a while he and his best friend Charlie decided to move in together. Another friend of theirs was looking for roommates and they decided to go for it. It was the lower level of a house.

Here's where I need to set the stage a little. Looking back on the time I spent in that space, I don't actually even know if it could have been nice under other circumstances. I feel almost pity for that house, full of young disgusting boys. Bare and wretched, it had minimal threadbare furniture, no decorations, and the guy who lived there already was hands down the most disgusting person I've ever met.

Not his character, but his habits. This boy's name was Josh. I genuinely don't know if their moving in with Josh was a handshake deal or if they saw the place beforehand. No sane person would ever have chosen to live there otherwise, I feel certain.

There was a kitchen. Sorta. But like. Was there a kitchen? Every counter, the whole sink, everything was just covered in dirty dishes. Brendan and Charlie said, "Josh, you need to do the dishes, we can't even wash anything cause it's so full of dirty dishes."

Josh's response to being asked to clean was to load all the dirty dishes onto a blanket. And then he dragged that blanket down the hall into the laundry room.

Crusted on residue, molding slimes, and horrible odors arose as he moved the blanket. After two months they said, "Josh, you can't just leave your dirty dishes on a blanket in the laundry room."

Josh's response was to drag the blanket of misery and miasmas into his room instead.

Josh didn't shower very much and he was a big guy. At one point I walked past his door when it opened. His girlfriend was crossing to the bathroom and I almost dry heaved directly in front of her. The smell of rotting foot, dried on sweat, and sex musk swirled together into the most eye watering assault my nose had ever faced.

So that's where our story takes place. A home of no hand towels, no soap by the bathroom sink, a blanket covered in months of early-twenties depression dishes.

I was meeting some of these people for the first time on the night of our story. Josh had a crew of two others guys who just hung around constantly. So it's me and five dudes hanging out, chatting, ignoring the various smell scapes to live in the moment. Josh left briefly to go pee.

Then I felt a stabbing in my guts. I shot a panicked look to Brendan and casually said I had to pee too. At that time in my life I was experiencing some of the most god awful IBS I've ever experienced. I knew I was going to make a crime scene in there. To my dismay there was no fan to turn on. But Brendan, like the champion partner he was, started telling a story at extremely high volume to cover the sound of my anus exploding under the force of my anxiety poops.

When I flushed and turned to the sink, I was dismayed. There was no soap. I looked around the bare bathroom and didn't see anything useful. No one had ever wanted to wash their hands here before. I then looked over the tub and spotted a tiny window that I wasn't tall enough to open. I wanted to let out the truly rank and terrible smell I had filled the bathroom with, but I had to give that up as impossible.

I slipped out and quietly said, "Hey, is there dish soap or something to wash my hands?"

"Oh," said one of Josh's friends, "There's a bar of soap by the window, let me grab it for you." This was not unreasonable, because again, I couldn't reach the window but I was doused in fear at the ridicule I was about to face.

He went to the door of the bathroom and literally staggered back from the unholy smell I'd left there. He had his arms up as if to protect his face from the malevolent beast my bowels had left behind. When he turned to us there was tears standing in his eyes.

In this house of awful smells and terrible hygiene, I was the stinkiest monster of all, bringing this boy to tears. I broke out in a sweat, ready to cry myself at the shame that was about to be cast upon me.

But instead. He said, "JOSH!"

"I can't believe you dude! Oh my god! That is the nastiest shit I've ever smelled!!" He waved the door frantically to dilute the awful power of my shit and then plowed through to open the window and air out the bathroom, passing me the soap. "I can't BELIEVE you had to go in there after him, oh my god, use the kitchen sink to wash your hands! It's gnarly!"

Everyone turned to rag on Josh for the newest addition to the gallery of smells in the house and he didn't look at me once. He laughed and pulled my shame onto his shoulders with grace, taking the bullet for me like a true hero. Only Brendan and I knew I was the stinky villain.

Josh never brought it up after, but I remain grateful to this day.

[mrs-bucky-barnes106]

bucky x reader

the one where you get locked out and go a-knocking on your sworn enemy's door in the middle of the night

౨ৎ

"Fuck!" You yelled, for what seemed like the millionth time that night. You should've listened to Wanda and stayed home instead of going to that stupid bar with that guy. Now, you were locked out of your house because you brilliantly left your keys in his car, and he left you when he said he was going to the bathroom.

You'd been out here for a half hour now doing everything you could to get in your house. You tried to pick the lock, break open a window with a rock, everything. You even walked around back and found a half-open window. You had never been more grateful for your forgetfulness. The only problem was that the window was on the second floor, a full twenty feet above where you stood.

It seemed your only option was to ask for help. All you needed was a ladder to climb up to that window, and everything would be just dandy. Sighing you tried to remember who in your neighborhood was actually home, and who'd let you in at- what time was it anyway?

10:45 P.M. Not bad. Nat and Steve were on vacation. Wanda wasn't here. Sam was away on work.

Shit.

The harsh realization struck you square in the chest. Bucky. The man next door. He was your only option in this dire situation. You hated to think of it, but he was your only acquaintance on this street, if you could even call him that.

You stomped over to his house, your very uncomfortably high heels getting sucked into the mud in his garden.

You made it to his door, steeling yourself to knock.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your knuckles rapped heavily on the door.

You stood there a minute, and when he didn't appear, you turned around, ready to walk away. He was probably sleeping, there was no use knocking anyway. Maybe you could just camp outside on your porch and wait for Wanda to get back.

Before you got very far, his deep rasp stopped you in your tracks. "Doll? What the hell are you doing here?" Bucky stood at the door, in all his bleary-eyed glory.

You considered bolting to save yourself the embarrassment.

No, you scolded yourself. You had already disturbed him, so the very least you could do was not stand there like a fool and instead, tell him about your troubles. It couldn't make him hate you any more than he already did.

"Doll?"

You turned around and gave him a small wave.

"Jesus-the hell happened to you? You look awful." You missed the concern in his eyes, only seeing the way they flicked down your body. You were suddenly embarrassed of the sequined dress you had chosen for the night. Not exactly something you wanted your most-hated coworker to see you in.

"Well, thanks," you rolled your eyes. "I- you know if you're just gonna stand there and tell me how bad I look, then forget it." You started to walk away.

"I wasn't- doll, wait. Why'd ya come?" He sounded earnest, almost concerned as he reached out for your wrist and gently grabbed hold of it.

"I- I need your help with something."

"With what?"

"I need help getting inside my house," you whispered, eyes cast downward from the shame that now consumed you.

God, how pathetic was this? Not only did you do the most idiotic thing you possibly could have in your entire adult life, but you went to Bucky of all people for help.

"With what? I can't hear you, c'mon speak up," his tone was commanding, and he sounded slightly irritated. His forehead crinkled, eyebrows scrunching down till his eyes were two thin slits, the blue orbs almost completely disappearing. Great, he was making you say it again.

You lifted your head up, staring into his eyes. The worst of it was over, you had come to Barnes. You spoke clearly, trying not to cringe at how stupid your situation sounded, "I need help getting into my house. Do you have a ladder or something?"

"The hell happened to your keys?"

"D-does it matter?!" You cried, exasperated.

"I- no, no, just come in, it's freezing out here and you look half-dead. And half-naked. Jesus, doll, do you not own anything warm?" Again with the insults. If you weren't desperate you would've showed him what half-dead really looked like.

You walked in after him, and were immediately struck with the realization that you had never been inside his house. And well, it looked...nice. Nicer than you expected for an old grouch like him. Huge murals filled two of the foyer walls, and everything was in pleasant, muted autumnal colors that somehow made him seem almost human.

"So where's the ladd...," you trailed off, realizing he was no longer in sight. Just great, he had left you by yourself immediately after inviting you in.

By this point, you were freezing in your mini dress, and all you really wanted was to just wipe off all your makeup and curl up into a ball of oblivion. Unsure if you were welcome to take a seat while you waited, you stood awkwardly in his foyer, shivering slightly because, of course, he had the thermostat turned all the way down.

"Here," Bucky reappeared suddenly, handing you a soft blanket and pillow.

"W-wait I don't need a place to sleep just the-"

"Look, doll, it's now 11:00 and it's freezing out. Quite frankly, you're insane if you think I'm gonna let you go out there with a ladder to climb into your side window. So, just please shut up, go to the bathroom do whatever you need to do, put on the change of clothes I left you and just go. to. sleep."

Wait change of clothes? Wouldn't they be...his clothes? Why was he being so nice to you, and more concerningly, why did that make you feel warm inside??

"I- okay, thank you," you didn't know what else to say.

Why was he being so nice to you? Where was the Barnes that was condescending? The one that was annoyed by every little thing you did and hated your entire existence?

He led you upstairs to his bathroom where you wiped off your makeup and splashed some water on your face.

Walking out to his bedroom, you found the clothes he laid out for you. An oversized T-shirt you guessed was too small for him and gray sweatpants. They were huge, but oh so soft. They also smelled like him, woodsy with a hint of...was that sandalwood?

You put on his clothes, instantly engulfed in the fabric. You walked downstairs with the blanket and pillow in hand, finding the couch easily enough.

"What're you doing?" Bucky asked, walking into the living room with a mug.

"Going to sleep?" You frowned up at him as you started to position the pillow to your liking.

"I- Jesus, doll, there's an entire bed up there. The hell do you mean you're sleepin' on the couch?"

"It's your house, I'm not taking your bed away too!"

"You're not taking the bed away, just go lie down."

"No, I'll sleep on the couch, it's fine."

"Why are you being stubborn? I'm offering you the bed."

"And I'm declining." You crossed your arms without realizing that you were mirroring the pose he held.

He sighed heavily before asking, "Why don't we both take the bed then, will that make ya feel better?" He sounded as exasperated as you felt and before you knew it, he was ushering you upstairs, grabbing the pillow and blanket he provided you with earlier.

You entered his room and laid down on opposite sides of the bed, which was warm, and so soft. Of course, it smelled like him too. You made a mental note to ask him about his mattress later to get yourself the same one.

"So, uh, how'd you get locked out?" Bucky asked awkwardly, cringing at his attempt to break the silence.

"I left my keys in this guy's car."

"So you didn't ask him for them back?" You felt him turn his head to face you, but you remained staring at the ceiling.

"He drove away before I realized, so yeah."

"Oh, what an ass," he growled.

"Got that right," you chuckled. Then, you stopped yourself. Why did he genuinely sound upset? Was he being protective? No, that was silly. He could care less about you.

You swallowed, turning to face him, welcomed by the sight of his pretty blue eyes and the smirk that would forever adorn his lips.

"Why'd you let me stay?" You finally asked, voicing the question that lingered in your mind.

"Because you'd freeze if you slept out there," he stated plainly.

"Thought you'd enjoy it if that happened," you chortled.

"Eh well- I wouldn't be happy about it. Besides I didn't need that weighing on my conscious all night."

"Mhm," you smiled at him.

"So, what if I told you that I make great pancakes," he scooted closer.

"I would say I'd love some," you said, scooting a bit closer as well. "On one condition."

"What?" You felt his hand rest on your arm, and you let it stay there.

Before you knew it, you were blurting, "Stay here and hold me?"

"Course doll, c'mere."

You snuggled your way up to his chest and felt loving hands run up and down your arms, which then snaked their way down to your waist. He buried his head in your neck, inviting you to rest yours on his chest.

"G'night Bucky."

"G'night doll, sleep well."

You felt a feather-light kiss being pressed to your temple, not quite sure if you had dreamed it all up. In the morning, however, you were greeted with a stack of pancakes in bed...

[risuola]

ENTRY #6 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I open my eyes, of you I'm aware, I lower my guards, strip myself bare.

contents: arranged marriage!au — wc. 1028

series masterlist

There were many molds Satoru had to morph himself to somehow fit into and more often than not, he was squeezing in just barely — just enough to get people off his back. He had to work with people he didn’t like, negotiate with clans he couldn’t stand and face higher-ups that he felt nothing but hate towards. Gojo was no stranger to taking orders he didn’t agree with — back in time when he wasn’t exactly who he is right now. A stubborn man, above most jurisdiction. A man of independence, someone who won’t bend and break to fulfill instructions that do not fit into his beliefs.

Maybe he was too old now or maybe he defamiliarized himself with the art of adjustment to someone else’s decision, but few months had passed and he still couldn’t get used to you.

Whenever Satoru looked at you, he felt as if he was looking at the sun — despite wearing a blindfold or dark glasses. There was a brightness in your aura, a warmth and yet you were so distant and far from him. You were a puzzle he struggled to solve and he blamed it on himself because not once in his life he had to accustom himself to be a husband.

You’ve got him doubting himself.

You’ve got him scared.

You’ve got his heart beat in ways he never experienced before.

You’ve got him longing.

It was terrifying, as he thought of it, whenever he was watching you from afar, and you were just there. In the same house as him, sleeping just few meters away, allowing yourself to lower your guards and Satoru felt dread filling his veins when he realized he was expected to lower his own too. To strip himself from the protective barrier he put so much effort and time to build. To just be there with you, not just somewhere in the same space.

But he was getting there.

It began with him offering you help — little house chores he took upon himself to make your life easier and at first he made it look as if it annoyed him. Maybe it did annoy him. Snarky comments and lowercase insults dressed in overly sweetened words, pet-names spoken in tone full of venom — all that made the daily routine with you and those verbal tug-of-wars taught him respect towards you. You were strong enough and brave enough to engage in the word-fights with him and in retrospect, those were what helped both you and him adapt to the new reality of being married.

“Can you help me with those bags, Satoru?”

“You’ve got legs, sweetheart, you can do this yourself.”

“Move from the damn couch, Gojo, and make yourself useful.”

“Last name, huh? You spoke it with so much venom, I’d figure you hate it if you it wasn’t yours as well.”

“Come here, darling, and help me with those bags.”

And then, Satoru learned what you wanted his help with. He observed what things you didn’t like doing and began doing them himself. It felt natural. A place he was obliged to move into slowly became a house he was walking towards every day with a strange feeling of warmth in his chest, because it was where he will be able to rest, to decompress. It was a place where he will eat or sleep. It was a place where he’ll see you.

Next thing Gojo worked on was infinity. Or rather, turning it off and he had to actively think of it whenever he was home. Few times you tried to touch him and couldn’t made him feel the sort of shame he never felt before. He was so used to always being protected that when he had to face you, he didn’t realize that he doesn’t need to protect himself from you. So he took it off, baring himself before you and allowing himself to get familiar with the soft, cold pads of your fingers. With the way your breath feels on his skin — hot and intimate — and the way your lips feel on his own.

Then it became unconscious for him to turn off his technique the moment he steps into the house.

Then he was catching himself staring. His eyes lingered on you a little too long, a little too intense and whenever you noticed, he found himself flustered. Hmpf-ing and turning his head away, ignoring the muffled chuckles you always tried to suppress and then, he was smiling too.

Then, he was missing the soft, sweet and floral scent of your perfume whenever he was away for work.

Then, he was replaying the gentle tone of your voice in his mind, finding solace in the memory.

 And then—

“Satoru, come to bed.”

—he was caught off guard yet again.

But he moved. A subconscious sequence of muscle contractions and releases, some taken steps and climbed up stairs — all of which led him to a place he had been avoiding for all of the weeks, months, that passed since he vowed himself to you.

“It’s big enough, just–“ your voice was gentle, so very gentle, when you got under the covers first. In the make-shift pajama he recognized as one of his own t-shirts — way too expensive to be a sleeping attire, yet he couldn’t care less. “Just sleep here. You don’t have to sleep on the couch, uncomfortable every night.”

And so he did. Half-bare, as he was used to sleep, he allowed himself to rest next to you. His weight sunk into the soft mattress, his bones straightened up deliciously in the heavenly cocoon of cotton sheets, all scented just slightly with the washing detergents and your perfume. A sigh escaped his mouth, he melted into the luxury of the bed and nuzzled his cheek into one of the pillows.

“Good?”

“Very good,” he admitted, his eyes following the up of your hip and down of your waist, then again up along the curve of your shoulder until he finally looked at your face. Your eyes were already closed, your eyelids covering the beautiful color underneath them and it was a shame he couldn’t see it before he lowered his own. “Goodnight.”

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[ginevrapng]

"did sirius black just wink at you?"

no. you're trying to pretend he didn't at least, this is the second time so far this term sirius has winked at you and he smirks at you whenever you accidentally makes eye contact.

sirius black cannot like you, he just can't. he likes loud, confident, thin, conventionally attractive girls, he does not go for girls like you. black dates 'hot' girls like marlene mckinnon, not you.

not a girl like you, soft, cute, round.

black cannot like you, he likes someone who's like him, a gryffindor, popular, likeable, approachable, someone with the same friends. someone who he can walk next to in the corridor as he can sling his arm around their shoulder with zero shame.

that's why sirius black cannot like you. you're not his type and at this point you're getting annoyed with his constant fucking around with you.

you pretend you've never shown much interest in him before. you don't talk to him in class and don't talk to him in general, you pretend to think his jokes are immature and his hair is ridiculous and everyone believes you, apart from the man himself. you scoff and roll your eyes at the snarky remarks made in class towards the teachers although you hide your mouth behind your hand and slightly smile, you bite your lip trying to stop giggling, you pretend you want to support your house and watch all the quidditch matches but the only reason you attend every single game is to watch sirius play.

sirius black is smarter than people believe him to be, he knows that it's all an act that you put up. and he loves it.

he loves the way you turn your head away from the door every time he walks into class late. he loves to hear you stifle your giggling as you see the latest prank he's pulled like snape walking around with bright green hair. he loves the big jumpers you wear when you always pull your sleeves down so they cover your hands. he loves the way your chubby cheeks become more prominent on your face as you're talking carefree to your friends.

"black did not wink at me, he probably doesn't even know my name. i'm not his type."

you're sitting in the courtyard and you're pretending you haven't noticed the marauders. you want to read to get some work done but the library is too cold and your common room is too crowded. you try and focus on your essay but not only are the marauders near you, a couple of your friends are distracting you too.

one of your friends is bending down to your eye level, blocking out the sun while complaining that you're wasting the day, your other friend being just as melodramatic waving their hands about complaining about something you're paying zero attention to.

in the corner of your eye you see james potter laying on the ground fiddling with a golden snitch, which you think is strange because though you go to the gryffindor games to watch sirius you do know that james is a chaser. remus lupin's reading a muggle book and is somehow being able to ignore his mates chattering. peter pettigrew has his hand stuck in a can of something that he's trying to shake out off while sirius is snickering at him.

thinking you've looked at him long enough for it to start becoming suspicious you turn your full attention back to your essay.

"oi, black's looking at you again." your friend shouted to you in a whisper.

"no he's not," you hiss back not looking up.

"yes he is!" came from both of your friends.

"i'm not his type guys," you reply getting exasperated, feeling like you've had this exact conversation so many times by now.

"who says?"

you freeze, knowing that voice, having dreams about that voice. finally you look up from your essay to see sirius smirking from behind you having heard your conversation. your two friends have the biggest grins on their face, i told you so grins.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve looks around his living room filled with all the people he loves dearly and can’t help but think that they not only fill his empty house but also the empty hole in his heart.

Yet, something is slightly missing.

He shrugs off the thought and walks to the kitchen raising his voice to ask, “Does anyone want anything to drink?”

A few kids ask for Cokes, but Steve makes sure to grab more than they ask for, sure that someone will complain about not hearing him ask.

He balances the cans in his arms and makes his way back to the living room.

He freezes as he rounds the corner and takes in the image of Eddie and Jonathan huddled together on the couch. He gets the strange sensation of deja vu, recalling the night he saw Jonathan in Nancy’s room, comforting her while she and Steve were still together.

He lets the familiar shame wash over him as he recalls what he did after he saw them, lashing out in jealousy and anger with a can of red spray paint.

He shakes his head and tries to focus on the present. Once again, he takes in the sight of Eddie and Jonathan together and thinks, I won’t let Jonathan take him too.

The thought has his stumbling back a bit which catches Eddie’s eye as he looks up at Steve. A look of concern crosses over his face before he says something to Jonathan and gets up quickly, making his way to Steve.

“You okay?” Eddie asks, taking half the cans out of Steve’s arms.

Steve looks at him hopelessly lost in the way his heart is beating faster, his eyes seem to be glued to Eddie’s lips, and he wants more than anything to kiss him.

“Steve.”

Steve glances up to Eddie’s eyes. “Hmm?”

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks again, eyebrows raising in concern.

Steve’s eyes flick down to Eddie’s lips again. “I think I…” he hesitates then says, “I need Robin.” He walks away quickly, scattering the cans on his coffee table before walking to where Robin sits with Nancy and yanks her by the hand.

“Hey- Steve?” Robin asks as Steve drags her to the hall bathroom. “What are you-”

Steve closes the bathroom door behind them and sits on the ground, back pressed against the door. Robin slowly sits in front of him with her legs crossed.

“I like Eddie,” Steve blurts out.

Robin shifts. “Yeah, you’ve made it pretty clear that you two are friends.”

Steve runs a hand over his face and sighs. “No, I mean that I like Eddie.”

Robin stares at him for a few moments before gasping, “Oh. Holy shit!”

“Yeah, holy shit,” Steve echoes. It’s a day full of deja vu.

“Is it my turn to make fun of your taste in men?”

Steve laughs, feeling tears start to flood his eyes in relief, fear, confusion, acceptance, and so many other emotions he can’t begin to describe. Robin laughs with him, scooting until she sits next to him, leaning against the door. Steve rests his head on her shoulder.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Steve groans and buried his face in her neck. “Hope that the ground opens up and the Upside Down takes me back.”

Robin scoffs. “You’re not allowed to joke about that.”

“And you are?”

“That’s different.”

Steve shoves her shoulder. “You say that joke almost every day.”

“And that’s why you’re not allowed to joke about it. You’re stealing my jokes.”

“You steal mine,” Steve groans.

Robin laughs. “Okay, maybe I do, but I think we have more important things to talk about.”

Steve leans his head back against the door. “Yeah, we do,” he agrees.

They sit in silence for a few moments, unsure of where to go from there.

There’s a soft knock on the door.

“You two okay in there?” Eddie gently asks on the other side of the door.

Steve puts his head in his hands. He doesn't know what to do.

"We're alright! Just give us a few minutes," Robin yells in response.

As the sound of footsteps retreating slowly fades, Steve breathes out, "Thanks."

Robin nods and stands up, offering her hands out to Steve. "Up."

Steve huffs but takes her hands, letting her pull him to his feet. She turns him to the mirror and Steve takes in his appearance. He looks the same as before but somehow feels entirely different.

"Now, give yourself a pep talk the same way you made me when I realized I had feelings for Nancy."

"Robin-"

"Do it."

Steve sighs and looks at himself. "You're cool. You're funny. You're hot. And you will not freak out or panic the next time you see your crush."

He glances at Robin who stares at him while trying not to laugh. Steve sighs, "You're right. It really is a dumb pep talk."

"Thank you for finally admitting it, but do you feel better?"

"A bit," Steve says. Maybe he can handle being in the same room as Eddie.

"Ready to step back into the world?"

"Not at all," Steve says, swinging the door open.

Robin pats him on the back as she leaves the bathroom. "Good luck," she whispers as she walks back to Nancy.

Steve takes a deep breath and is thankful to find that no one is staring at him too much as he makes his way back into the living room. But then he sees Eddie laughing loudly at something Jonathan says, and he absolutely disregards the pep talk.

He is absolutely, one hundred percent, panicking and freaking out.

“Eddie!” Steve says louder than intended, causing the whole room to go silent and everyone to turn and stare at him. Steve apologetically nods at everyone and puts his hands on his hips. He looks at Eddie and asks, “Can I talk to you?”

Eddie slowly nods and gets up to follow him. Everyone watches, but Steve carefully avoids Robin’s look, knowing she’s either entirely horrified in disbelief or being way over-supportive.

As he makes his way back to the same bathroom, he hears everyone begin to talk again which fills him with relief.

Eddie follows him into the bathroom and puts his hands in his pockets, looking entirely uncertain and guilty. “What did I do?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all really. I’m just…” he trails off and stares at him. Okay, maybe trapping Eddie in a small bathroom with him wasn’t his great idea. Half of him feels bad for making Eddie probably feel trapped, and the other half is chanting kiss him, kiss him, kiss him…

“Steve.”

Steve breaks out of his thoughts quickly and blurts out, “Do you like Jonathan?”

Eddie’s jaw drops, and Steve slaps a hand over his mouth before slowly dropping it to his hip and raising his eyebrows. He’s not backing down from this.

“No,” Eddie answers. He crosses his arms. “Would it be a problem if I did?”

“Yes,” Steve says without thinking. But when Eddie’s eyes widen in fear, he’s quick to say, “No! No! It wouldn’t be a problem if you liked men. It would be a problem if you liked Jonathan.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair and lets out a deep breath. “Okay, that also came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is… you should like me- no. Actually. You shouldn’t be forced to like me or be told to-”

“Steve.”

Steve nods again. He needs to get back on track. "I like you." Shit, maybe that's a little too much on track, but there's no taking it back now.

Eddie stares at him in disbelief.

"Romantically," Steve clarifies.

Eddie turns to sit on the toilet lid while he stares up at Steve. He takes a deep breath and asks, "Do you know why I've been huddled with Jonathan today?"

Steve shakes his head. Please, don't let this be another rejection.

"Because Will noticed the way I look at you. He told me his brother has always been supportive, so if I ever needed someone to talk to about my crush, I could go to him."

Steve runs a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Eddie stands up and steps forward. "I've been complaining to Jonathan all day about my damn crush on you because I never thought you would like me back."

"Oh," Steve replies, unsure of what else to say.

"Yeah, oh," Eddie says and narrows his eyes. "Shit, are you messing with me?"

"No!" Steve says quickly, "No, I just really want to kiss you."

Eddie nods and bounces a bit on his feet. "Okay."

"Okay?" Steve asks, taking a step closer.

"Okay," Eddie says, moving forward quickly to gently kiss him.

"Finally!" a voice shouts on the other side of the door, causing Steve and Eddie to jump back.

Steve pinches his nose before storming to the door where he can hear several people on the other side shushing someone who is most likely Dustin. He yanks it open and finds everyone standing on the other side, guiltily looking at him.

"Don't give us that look, we've been waiting for you to realize for weeks!" Dustin yells.

Steve crosses his arms. "What do you mean 'weeks'? I literally found out today."

"It's been kind of obvious," Max says with a shrug.

Steve's jaw drops.

"I have to agree," Nancy chimes in. Which is totally uncool of her.

"Wait, you've all known for weeks, but I, Steve's best friend, had no clue along with him?"

Nancy looks at Robin. "Says the one who had no clue that I liked you after I dropped hints for days. You're terrible at reading when people have crushes, sweetheart."

Robin flushes red and groans.

Eddie steps up behind Steve and wraps an arm around his waist. "And when did you guys figure out my crush on Steve?"

"When you first met honestly, you're not subtle," Max says. Everyone chimes in to agree.

"And you were going to fill in neither of us?" Steve asks.

"You would've both denied it, plus it was more fun this way," Dustin replies. Steve gives him a look, and he holds up his hands. "Sorry."

Steve turns to Eddie. "Who should we fight first?"

"Dustin," Eddie states, voicing Steve's exact thoughts.

"Agreed," Steve says before taking off after Dustin.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Dustin yells as he sprints down the hall and out the front door.

It only takes a few seconds before Steve and Eddie are able to corner Dustin each of them pulling the terrified kid into a quick hug.

"Are you two going to be insufferable from now on?" Dustin asks, clearly annoyed.

"Absolutely," Steve and Eddie both say.

And Steve intends to fulfill that promise forever.

[dearsnow]

Thinking about neighbor & childhood friend Bob :)

Bobby, who plays pretend with you whenever you want— who likes to imagine himself as a pilot in a really fast jet, and you as his air traffic controller. Who always lets you take the lead until you want him to, who laughs and giggles when you play with his glasses. Whose mom makes you lunch, and invites you in with open arms because she knows how much her son adores you. Bobby, who broke his foot tripping on a river stone, who you comfort when he realizes he can’t get his cast wet. Who blows on dandelions and wishes that you’ll be around forever. Who is loyal and steadfast and trustworthy, who you whisper all your secrets to with the assurance that he will never tell. Bobby, who even though he doesn’t know what it is, loves you like his heart loves beating.

Robert, who hates it when anyone but you calls him “Bobby”. Who listens to rock and combs his hair back and pretends to roll his eyes when his mom coos over how cute the two of you are. Who still looks out for you, protecting you. Who secretly reads comics under his sheets late at night, when everyone else is asleep. Who still does well in school, and cares about the people around him, and is kind, despite everyone around him growing into unruly teens. Robert, who started wearing contacts. Who you go to the mall with, and who buys the things you say you like without you knowing. He’ll gift them to you later, whenever an event calls for it. Who eats like a man starved, especially if it’s a new recipe you tried out. Who stands up for you when you’re teased or picked on and helps his mom with chores without being asked. Who lets you play with his fingers and mess up his hair. Robert, who blushes when you’re near, and who is starting to realize that he’s never felt that way about anyone else before.

Rob, who is more grown up now. Who has straightened out his life and has a clear vision for the future. Who never left behind his love for animals and comics and flying. Who takes you out to eat with money from his new job. Who kisses his mom goodbye without a hint of his former semi-shame. Who doesn’t mind when people call him “Bobby”, because they always have and probably always will. Who comes to terms with his emotions and finally settles every grudge he held. Rob, who treats everyone with a patient sort of care and never gets into spats. Who appreciates everything anyone has ever done for him. Who signs up for the Naval Academy and works hard to get into shape. Who knows he’ll have a lot of teary goodbyes, yet knows that it’s something he has to do. Rob, who asks you out formally and finally puts to action every single loving thought he’s ever had about you.

And, finally, the Bob that people know and love. Who didn’t quite meet the vision requirements to be a pilot, but accepted the next best thing with grace. Who sends you letters periodically, packed full of everything he ever thought while he was away. Who lays in bed and dreams of coming home to you. Who treats everyone with respect and keeps a careful eye on those less experienced than him. Who is goofy and nerdy but self-assured enough to know that himself is all he could ever hope to be. Who makes friends, despite his quiet, observant nature, and keeps them close to his heart. Bob, who never forgets the people back in the place he grew up. Who loves openly and unashamedly. Who gets scared, sometimes, that he won’t ever be able to go home. Who puts aside those thoughts because he is needed in the air and on ground, and he cannot let them cloud his judgment. Who finally comes home and hugs his parents, laughing with his siblings. Who walks up to your house and kisses you with a passion. Bob, who gets down on one knee and promises to you that as long as you wear his ring on your finger, you will never have to wait to feel his love.

(This is brainstorming and vibes for my upcoming Bob fic, “A Waiting Game” <3 I hope I get around to finishing it, as I’m 3k words in and still dealing with little Bobby lol)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 18

part 1 | part 17 | ao3

“I’m sorry I’m sorry don’t hate me I’m sorry, did it work? Don’t hate me. Did it work?”

“Dustin,” Steve barks. Dustin looks up, eyes bright; he's hugging Steve so hard it’s like he’s trying to fuse his face to Steve’s rib cage through his shirt. Steve scruffs him on the top of the head, rubbing his knuckles over his dumb baseball cap in a way he hopes is reassuring, and wheezes, “Can’t breathe, bud.” 

The kid takes a hesitant step back, fists still balled in the fabric of Steve’s shirt like he might run away. Mike’s cowering behind him, hunched in on himself and nervously eyeing up the nail bat.

“So you’re... not mad?” Dustin asks.

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” Steve smiles sarcastically. “Hope you used that Butterscotch wisely, dude, because it’s the only one you’re getting for the rest of the year. Also, you can kiss your full candy bar trick-or-treating plans goodbye.”

“What? No!” Mike starts to whine, but immediately shuts his mouth when Steve glares at him. Then Eddie swoops in behind them, clapping a hand on both kids’ shoulders and nearly startling Mike out of his skin.

“And, uh, for obvious reasons,” he says in an acidic sing-song, “you’re both banned from Hellfire for the next month.”

“WHAT?” 

Oh, this guy’s good.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” Mike pleads. “We’re just about to get to the manor’s secret passage!” 

“Yes, and what a shame that your paladin triggered a hidden trap and got stuck in a faulty portal for the next four sessions.” 

“Oh, my god! This is— this is—!” 

“Payback?” Eddie sneers.

Dustin’s eyes are darting rapid fire between the two of them, and he elbows Mike in the ribs and hisses, “Dude, shut up before he kills us both for good!” 

“Oh, my god,” Mike says again, face twisting through all five stages of grief. 

“Oh, also,” Steve adds for his own amusement as he heads toward the stairs, “you two can clean all this camping shit up.” 

—

“You play a good game of Punish the Pipsqueaks,” Steve grins, walking side by side with Eddie. "That D&D ban? Ouch. Keep that up and the moms will start recruiting you for babysitting duty."

“Oh, boy!” Eddie smirks. “My dream finally realized.”

They get back to their cars, and Steve shivers a little, the cold finally getting to him now that he doesn’t have the fight or flight to keep him warm. He unlocks the bimmer and slides into the front seat; cranks up the heat, his hands impatiently hovering in front of the vents. 

Eddie catches the car door. “You’re really not going to punish them more?" he asks, leaning in, head cocked to the side. "I mean, no trick-or-treating sucks and all, but. Seems a little lenient, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it does,” Steve agrees with a short laugh, “but see, the thing is, those two dumbasses are assuming that revenge is a dish best served cold, when actually?" He points at the house. "It’s a dish best served by Claudia Henderson.”

Eddie’s brows lift in question.

“I’m gonna call her tomorrow morning and say I caught them smoking at the bus stop.” 

“Jesus!" Eddie laughs. "That’s diabolical.” 

“And then I’m gonna suggest they do community service at the retirement home on Halloween instead of trick-or-treating, because Dustin’s weirdly afraid of old people.” 

Eddie's laugh turns to a cackle, all his teeth on display, and the car bounces on its wheels as he leans his weight against the door. “Oh, man," he exhales, wiping the corners of his eyes. "Remind me not to get on your bad side.” 

“Pretty sure we’ve only ever been on each other’s bad sides.” Steve’s joking, but Eddie’s smile slips a little, and Steve wants to take it back. Pluck the words from the fog of chilled breath hanging between them; tell him that they're not anymore, that they don't have to be again.

But then Eddie catches the bass line coming from Steve’s speakers and the grin comes back full force. 

“Hold the fuck on," he beams, nodding his head to the beat and hum-mumbling the melody as the words come back to him.

Following the footsteps of a red dawn dance, we are entranced. 

“Spellbound,” he sings, shaking his head in delighted disbelief. “I’m sorry, does Steve Harrington have a Siouxsie tape in his car?”

Steve’s face goes red. Fucking Robin. “If you’re about to talk shit about the music, I— I mean, I’m just the chauffeur, man, I don’t—”

“Relax. It’s not that, I just…” He raps his knuckles against the roof. Gives Steve a once over; smiles softly at whatever he sees.

“What?” Steve asks. Kinda likes how he has to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Nothing," Eddie murmurs, low and deep. "You’re just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Steve shivers again.

It seems to snap Eddie out of... whatever that was. “My bad, man,” he says, his voice back to normal volume. He apologizes for letting in the cold air and slips Steve’s jacket off, handing it back to him and shutting the door with a soft click, then he throws out a parting salute and skips off to his van.

Steve just sits there for a moment, feeling syrupy and dumb. Like there's whiskey in his chest, a full flask of it sloshing around behind his ribs.

His jacket smells like Eddie. Siouxsie croons in his good ear.

Spellbound, spellbound, oh-oh-oh.  

"Jesus Christ," he mutters as he cuts the music off. He drives home in silence, the song still ringing in his ears.

—

part 19

first half of tag list below the cut comment if you want me to add you to the next one

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[yourlocaljonghoe]

Your Gentle Hands (Please Don't Ever Let Go Of Me Again). || Kim Hongjoong. [ Part 2 ]

Part 1 here.

Summary: meeting the local outcast shouldn't have ended with you slowly falling for him. yet you did, all while knowing you could never have this man, because you were already someones else's wife. two lovers, a dress shop, and a violent man between it all. we all know how this ends, right? ... right?

Pairing: dressmaker!kim hongjoong x fem. reader

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

Wordcount: 22.7k

Warnings: misogyny, mentions of (domestic) violence, injuries, wounds, scars, lots of tears and trauma, allusions to sex but cuts right before the actual act

A/N: all i have to say is... thank fucking god i finally finished it. i struggled so much, and though i still love it im also so sick of this fic haha. there are so many people i want to thank for listening to my rambling, brainstorming and constantly reassuring me: @ghstzzn, @skteezcursed, @xomakara and also to @pali-writes-atiny-bit who beta read the whole thing <33 please don't forget to reblog and like! divider credits as always to @firefly-graphics!

Available here on AO3.

“When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No … don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it? But it is!”

Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières

The room around you was quiet, save for the distant ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. As a child, you'd hated this clock. Now, as an adult, you despised it.

Your hands rested in your lap, the delicate lace of the dress you loved so much pooling around you like the last remnants of a life that, albeit short, once felt full of promises. The world outside was moving on, the townsfolk bustling about with their daily tasks, their lives seemingly untouched by the darkness that has taken hold of your heart.

It was funny, hilarious even.

Because despite pretending not to, they all knew, bowed their heads in shame whenever you walked by.

Yet not a single soul had ever cared.

Not until a man was dead, and another one was jailed for his murder.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching as the winter sun set over the distant hills, casting a golden glow on the town below. The streets were full of people rushing to finish their errands before nightfall, their faces etched with concern and urgency. None of them spared a glance in the direction of your family's old house, none of them knew the depth of your despair.

Or maybe they did. Maybe they just didn't care. 

It wouldn't be the first time.

The sound of the door creaking open drew your attention, but you didn't turn to look. You knew who it was. Your mother had a way of entering a room that felt like an invasion, like an unwelcome breeze slipping through a crack in the window.

“You’re still wearing that costume,” she said, voice low and disapproving. “That man. Hongjoong. You shouldn't-”

“Shouldn't what, Mother? Mourn the only person who ever truly cared for me?”

You kept your forehead pressed against the glass, your breath fogging up a small circle. The lace of your dress felt heavy now, like a shroud. Once, you had worn it with pride. It had been a gift from Hongjoong, back when his friendship, care and love felt like a lifeline. Back when you were still able to see him, touch him, kiss him-

“Why do you still have it on?” she continued, stepping further into the room. Her footsteps were slow, deliberate. “It's time to let go of the past.”

You finally turned to face her, your eyes cold. The sight of her stirred a boiling rage within you, a fury that had been simmering for too long. She looked at you with the same passive face she always had, the face of a woman who turned away from the truths she didn't want to see.

“You let him do this to me,” you said, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “You saw the bruises. You heard the screams. And you did nothing.”

She flinched, just slightly, but quickly regained her composure, fidgeting with her hands. You two had that habit in common. “I did what I thought was best. It was a different time-”

“Different time?” you interrupted, standing up. The lace dress flowed around you, the wind making it flare up. “You watched your daughter suffer, and you did nothing. That's not the past. That's just who you are.”

Your mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but you felt no pity for her. Not anymore. The betrayal was too deep, the wounds too fresh.

“E-everything's changed now,” she said softly. “He's gone. You’re free.”

“Free?!” you echoed, laughing bitterly. “Free to live in this prison of horrible memories? Free to be haunted by the faces of all the people who turned away? Free to watch the man I love be behind bars for a crime I committed?”

Silence fell between you, heavy and oppressive. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed so, so much louder now.

“You need to let go,” she whispered, a plea hidden in her tone.

“And you need to face what you did,” you replied, your voice cold and unwavering. “Or, well, didn't do.”

With that, you turned back to the window, shutting her out once more. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the hills, casting long shadows across the town. 

You wouldn't stay here much longer. You had a plan, and soon, it would be time to carry it out.

But before that, you had to see your entire family again. And tonight, while celebrating another successful harvest season was the perfect opportunity. Even though the bond you once shared was inevitably broken, they were your family, your people, whom you once loved and shared many memories with.

One last time, you wanted to look them right in the eye.

Because afterwards, you vowed to never speak to them again.

“Miyeon isn't coming today?” you asked as you and your eldest sister set the table. Unfortunately for you, you had to take off Hongjoong’s dress for real this time. To keep the peace, your mother insisted.

“She's with child, Y/N. She can't travel that far. Unlike some of us, she actually fulfills her wifely duties”, she remarked snarky, her voice cold and arrogant. 

You didn't take her usual bait. “What a shame. May she and her unborn be healthy,” you whispered. You were being honest; you truly wanted that. Your middle sister was a good human, and you knew if she and her husband Gikwang wouldn't be away so much traveling the world, she would probably be the only family member you could truly lean on.

Unlike Jisoo, the eldest of you. Your relationship had always been strained, even as children. While you and Miyeon were close, Jisoo had always thought of herself as the best of the best, thus never bothering to actually spend time with you.

And when she married her wealthy husband, Juwon, her arrogance reached a whole new level. When your family's fortune went downhill and you had to marry below your status, her evil, cruel nature fully revealed itself to you. 

While she was always cordial with your parents and sister, in private, you were her personal punching bag.

Your sister's voice snapped you back to the present. “Father's been asking about you,” Jisoo said, arranging the cutlery with a meticulousness that bordered on obsessiveness. “He's worried.”

“Worried?” you echoed, suppressing a bitter laugh. “Funny, he didn't seem worried at all when he handed me over to a monster.”

Jisoo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He did what he thought was best for the family. You were meant to secure our future.”

“And look how well that turned out,” you said, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “One dead, another imprisoned, and me... here, all alone.”

For a brief moment, you could swear your sister's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something almost like sympathy crossing her features. “Y/N...”

But you weren’t in the mood for her half-hearted attempts at empathy. “Save it, Jisoo. You’ve made your feelings clear enough over the years.”

Silence fell over the room as the two of you continued to set the table. God, in moments like these, you really needed Miyeon. Or ‘Always the peacemaker Miyeon’, as you called her. Because now, this large dining room, once a place full of warmth and laughter, felt like a mausoleum, merely filled with the ghosts and memories of happier, easier times. The ornate chandelier above - one of the rare expensive items your family kept after your father lost his job and status -, the polished wooden floors, the family portraits lining the walls - they all seemed to mock the illusion of a perfect family that had long since shattered.

The room fell into an uneasy silence afterwards. Jisoo's meticulously manicured fingers continued moving with precision, setting each fork and knife in its place, perfectly in order.

“Y/N,” Jisoo began again, her voice softer this time. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But we’re still family. We have to… find a way to move forward.”

You looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years. Behind the cold exterior, you saw traces of the sister you once played with in the gardens, the sister that, despite never being interested in the same things as Miyeon and you, tried her best to somewhat bond with you, all for the sake of the family. Before life had driven a wedge between you. Now, all those memories felt like they belonged to another lifetime, a dream you could barely recall.

“Moving forward,” you repeated, almost to yourself. “It sounds so simple when you say it.”

“It’s not simple,” Jisoo admitted, setting down the last knife and turning to face you fully. “But it’s necessary.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway made you pause. Your father entered the room, his once robust frame now slightly stooped with age and worry. His eyes, once so full of authority, now seemed to carry the weight of too many regrets.

He looked as miserable as you felt. 

“Y/N,” he said, “It’s good to see you. You've been hiding in your room every time I come back from the fields, I thought… I thought you were ignoring me.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak because yes, you totally were ignoring him. Your relationship with your father had always been complicated, and recent events had only made it worse.. He had been the one to arrange your marriage, to send you into the hands of the man who had caused you so much pain. Forgiveness was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not yet.

Not ever, maybe.

“Father,” you finally managed, your voice tight. “Jisoo and I were just finishing setting the table.”

He glanced at the table, then back at you, his eyes searching your face for something, anything - understanding, perhaps, or absolution. “Thank you, both of you. It means a lot to have the family together again, minus your lovely sister of course.”

Jisoo moved to stand beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Are you worried? She's in good health, father, the delivery will surely go well.”

You tried so hard not to get upset at the scene unfolding in front of you. Seeing him so worried about Miyeon stung, because when has he ever shown you this kind of emotion?

He nodded, but his expression remained troubled. “Where’s your mother?”

“In the sitting room,” you replied. “She’s... resting.”

The truth was, you had left her standing in the middle of that room after yet another argument, lost in her own guilt and sorrow. But you didn’t have the energy to explain that to your father. 

“I’ll go get her,” he said, turning to leave. “Dinner will be ready soon. Jisoo, get your sons from the garden.”

As he walked away, you felt a pang of something close to pity. For all his faults, your father was still trying to hold the family together, still clinging to the hope that things could return to some semblance of normalcy. But you knew better.

Jisoo’s voice pulled you back to the present. “We should finish up. Mother won’t be happy if everything isn’t perfect.”

You nodded, moving mechanically as you placed the last of the plates on the table. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the tension in the air. This dinner, this facade of normalcy, felt like a cruel joke. But for now, you played along, if only to keep the peace a little while longer.

Dinner was… a strained affair, to say the least. Your family gathered around the table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on faces that had grown distant and unfamiliar. Your mother, seated at the head, looked as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will. Beside her, your father’s attempts at small talk fell flat, met with monosyllabic responses and uncomfortable silences.

Jisoo, always the dutiful daughter, tried to keep the conversation going. “Father, have you heard from the merchants about the new trade routes? I read that they’re opening up opportunities in the south. It could be good for the farm, we could get more profit and such.”

Your father nodded, seizing on the topic like a lifeline. “Yes, I’ve been in contact with a few of them. They say the prospects are promising. It could be a chance to recover some of what we’ve lost.”

You listened with half an ear, your thoughts all over the place.

You wondered what Hongjoong was doing at this very moment. Was he getting enough food? Was the little prison cell cold? Was he… Was he thinking about you, just like you were thinking about him? All you could think about was the memory of his touch, his voice, once your only source of comfort, now a constant torment. He was the only person who had ever truly understood you, and now he was paying the price for your actions.

“Y/N?” your mother’s voice brought you right back to reality, “Did you hear me?”

You blinked, realizing she had been speaking to you. “I’m sorry, Mother. What did you say?”

She sighed, a sound full of frustration and sadness. “I asked if you had any plans now that... now that things have changed.”

You knew what she meant. Now that your husband was dead, now that the scandal had rocked your family to its core. “I haven’t decided yet,” you said carefully. “There’s a lot to think about.”

Your mother nodded, her eyes flickering to your father, then back to you. “Just remember, we’re here for you. No matter what.”

You wanted to believe her, but the years of neglect and indifference had built walls that were impossible to tear down. “Thank you,” you said, though the words felt hollow.

As the meal wore on, the conversation thankfully turned to more mundane matters - Jisoo’s children, Miyeon’s pregnancy, the upcoming harvest celebration in town. It was as if everyone was trying to pretend that nothing had changed, that you were still a family bound by more than just blood and obligation.

But you knew better. And as you looked around the table at the faces of your family, you couldn’t help but wonder if they felt that, slowly but surely, you were no longer a part of them.

Later on, as everyone else was lingering in the living room already, you turned around to your mother, now all alone with you in the kitchen. “Mother?” you asked.

“What is it?”

“The bread you made… can I have some more of it? It was… very good.”

For a split second, she looked you right in the eye. 

“...Sure, my daughter.”

She knew something was up.

But maybe, maybe, not intervening with your plans was her way of finally apologizing to you.

The small police station was cold and dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. As you stepped inside, Officer Kim, one of only four officers in your town, looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity as he spotted you.

“Mrs. Y/N,” he greeted, standing up. “What brings you here at this hour?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I need to see him,” you said, your voice cold and determined. “I need to face the man who killed my husband before he is executed.”

Officer Kim’s eyes widened slightly, but after composing himself, he nodded. “Of course. Just... be careful. He’s not in the best of moods.”

You forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Officer Kim. I brought this as a token of my appreciation.” You handed him the neatly wrapped loaf of bread. “It’s from my mother. She insisted.”

He accepted the gift with a nod. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.”

As he led you down the short hallway to the cells, your heart pounded in your chest. The air grew colder the more you entered the building. At one point, it was so cold you felt multiple shivers run down your spine. God, Hongjoong must have frozen to death here. 

You shook your head, taking another deep breath. You had to act, and act well, for your plan to work.

“There he is,” Officer Kim said, nodding toward the second cell. Hongjoong sat on the narrow cot, his head bowed, his hands clasped together. At the sound of your approach, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours instantly.

You saw the turmoil of emotions behind his eyes. Guilt, sorrow, and so much relief to finally see you again.

“Y/N,” he began, but you cut him off with a glare.

“Don’t you dare say my name,” you hissed, stepping closer to the bars. “You have no right to speak to me.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, but he quickly masked his emotions. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

“I needed to see you,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom. “I needed to look into the eyes of the man who murdered my husband.”

Officer Kim shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly uneasy with the tension. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said, retreating back to his desk. “But don’t take too long.”

You waited until his footsteps faded before turning back to Hongjoong, your expression softening. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I had to make it convincing.”

Hongjoong reached through the bars, his fingers brushing against yours. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, his voice trembling. He looked unwell; skinnier than ever before, his eyes sunken in and some torn, old clothes on his shivering frame.

“I have a plan to get you out,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Officer Kim wasn’t coming back just yet. “The bread I gave him... it’s poisoned. Not enough to kill, just enough to make him sick. When he’s down, I’ll get the keys and we’ll leave. Together.”

Hongjoong’s eyes filled with a mix of admiration and worry. “You’re risking everything for me.”

“I’d risk anything for you,” you confirmed, your voice breaking. “You’re the only person who’s ever truly cared for me. I can’t lose you.”

Before he could respond, you heard a muffled groan from the direction of the desk. It seemed as if officer Kim was already feeling the effects of the poison, his footsteps stumbling as he tried to return.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. “We have to go now.”

You hurried back to the entrance of the cells, finding Officer Kim slumped over his desk, groaning in pain. He looked up at you, confusion and betrayal clearly visible in his eyes.

“Mrs. Y/N... what...”

“I’m so, so sorry,” you said softly, reaching for the keys on his belt. “I had to.”

You returned to Hongjoong’s cell, unlocking the door with trembling hands. The door swung open with a creak, and he stepped out, his hand immediately finding yours.

“Let’s go,” you said, pulling him toward the back exit. “We don’t have much time.”

“Wait,” he said, and halted his steps. Before you could fully turn around and ask what's wrong, he was all over you. 

His arms wrapped around you in a fierce embrace, pulling you close as if he were afraid you might disappear. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and erratic, echoing your own.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

You held onto him just as tightly, savoring the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “We don’t have much time,” you whispered, even though you wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever. “We have to go.”

Hongjoong nodded, pulling back slightly but keeping a firm grip on your hand. Together, you made your way out, your hearts pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The night was cold and still, the moon casting a pale light over the deserted streets..

“We’ll head to the forest,” you said, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. “I hid a few resources for us by the tree where we first met. Along with… along with some evidence. Against my former husband.”

“You want… you want to prove my innocence?”

You looked at him, and nodded. “You are innocent after all. And… and I am too.”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on your hand as the two of you made your way through the dark, narrow streets. “I have someone who can help us,” he whispered urgently. “Someone… powerful.”

You glanced at him. “Who?”

“I can't tell you yet. But trust me, she can definitely help us.”

She?

You nodded, but your mind raced. “...Alright, let’s get to the tree first. We need those resources.”

The two of you moved down the all too familiar path. The town was quiet, the only sound the occasional bark of a distant dog or the rustle of leaves in the wind. Beside you, Hongjoong wasn't as quick as he'd usually be; the weeks of solitary confinement, barely enough food and cold temperatures were clearly evident, yet he did not once fall behind. You reached the tree where you and Hongjoong had first met, a towering oak tree.

The place where it all started.

“There,” you whispered, pointing to a hollow at the base of the tree. Hongjoong knelt down, reaching into the hollow and pulling out a small bag. He opened it, revealing the few precious items you had hidden: food, water, a change of clothes, and most importantly, the evidence that could clear Hongjoong’s name.

“These letters,” you said, pulling out a bundle of crumpled papers. “They’re from my husband. Threatening me, detailing his abuse and plans to ruin our family if I didn’t comply. They’ll prove what kind of man he really was.”

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes hardening. “We’ll make sure everyone knows the truth. But first, we need to get out of here.”

“Don't you want to rest?” you asked, clearly worried about his current state.

He just took your hand and placed a chaste kiss on it. “Later. I have to make sure you're safe first.”

“And you, too,” you added.

“And me too,” he repeated.

So, the two of you set off again, moving through the shadows, your hearts pounding in unison. As you reached the main street, you were determined to make it as far as possible, as quickly as possible. But as you rounded a corner, you came to a sudden halt.

A carriage awaited you, its dark silhouette looming in the moonlight. And standing beside it, his expression grim, was your father.

“Father,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped forward, his eyes locked on yours. “I… had a feeling you’d try to run,” he said quietly. “And I couldn’t let you do it alone.”

You stared at him, confusion swirling in your mind. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve made many mistakes, Y/N. So, so many mistakes. But letting you suffer in silence was the worst of all. I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to help you. Even if it means I'll never see you again.”

Hongjoong stepped protectively in front of you, his eyes narrowed. “Why should we trust you? You never protected her before, why now?”

Your father met his gaze steadily. “Because I love my daughter.”

“You're a liar,” you whispered, hot, angry tears threatening to escape your eyes.

He fiercely shook his head. “I'm a bad person, Y/N. I do not want to earn my forgiveness with this. But I'm not a liar. Never that. Take this carriage and go, wherever you two want to.”

You looked at Hongjoong, then back at your father. “And what about you?”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay behind and livel with the consequences. It’s the least I can do.”

Tears filled your eyes as you stepped forward, embracing your father tightly. It was the first hug you shared in a long, long time, and also the last one. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He held you close for a moment, then gently pushed you toward the carriage. “Go. Be safe. And don’t look back.”

You and Hongjoong climbed into the carriage, the soft leather seats a stark contrast to the cold, hard ground you had just left. As the carriage began to move, you looked out the window, watching your father’s figure grow smaller and smaller until it fully disappeared into the night.

The carriage rattled along the narrow, winding road, the wheels clattering over the uneven stones. The night was cold, the air crisp with the promise of frost. You wrapped a blanket around yourself and Hongjoong, sharing the warmth as best you could. The lantern hanging from the carriage’s front swayed with each bump, casting erratic shadows that danced across the landscape.

The path ahead was long and treacherous, leading through dense forests and over rocky hills. Every so often, the carriage would hit a particularly deep rut, jolting you both almost freaking the horse out numerous times.

Luckily for you, Hongjoong was some kind of animal whisperer and managed to calm the horse pretty quickly each time.

As the hours passed, the moon climbed higher in the sky, its pale light filtering through the bare branches of the trees. The forest around you was alive with nocturnal sounds - the hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a fox. You kept a wary eye on the shadows, aware that danger could lurk in the darkness.

Dawn was beginning to break when the carriage crested a hill, revealing a panoramic view of the valley below. The first light of day painted the landscape in soft hues of pink and gold, the rolling hills stretching out like a patchwork quilt. It was a moment of fleeting beauty, a reminder of the world beyond your troubles.

“It's so pretty here,” you whispered. Hongjoong hummed in return, his gaze slowly becoming more and more unfocused.

He was tired, and in desperate need for some rest.

“Let me drive for a while,” you said softly, touching Hongjoong's arm. “You need to rest.”

Hongjoong shook his head, though his exhaustion was evident. “I’ll rest later. We need to put as much distance between us and the town as possible.”

“Please,” you insisted, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re no good to me if you collapse from exhaustion. Let me take over until we find an inn.”

He hesitated, then finally nodded, knowing you were right. The carriage came to a halt, and you swapped places. As you took the reins, Hongjoong settled into the seat, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. His eyes closed almost immediately, the tension in his body easing as he finally allowed himself to rest a little.

You guided the carriage along the winding road, the rhythm of the horse’s hooves a steady, comforting beat. The landscape around you began to change as the sun climbed higher, the dense forest giving way to open fields and distant mountains. 

Hours passed, and you kept a vigilant eye on the road ahead. Occasionally, you would glance back at Hongjoong, who slept fitfully, his brow furrowed even in rest. The evidence you had gathered against your husband lay safely tucked away, a lifeline that could clear Hongjoong’s name and secure your future together.

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the fields, you spotted a small village nestled at the base of the mountains. It was far enough from your town that you felt safe enough to stop for a while. The village appeared peaceful and quiet, only a few people out on the street at this hour.

You gently shook Hongjoong awake as the carriage rolled to a stop at the edge of the village. He stirred, blinking groggily. “Where are we?”

“A village,” you replied, helping him down from the carriage. “We can rest here for the night.”

He nodded, too tired to argue. The two of you made your way to the inn, a modest building with a welcoming glow emanating from its windows. 

The inn's common room was a bustling hub of activity, filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of mugs. The innkeeper, a plump woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, greeted you as you approached the counter.

“Good evening, dear,” she said, her voice soft and welcoming. “What can I do for you?”

“We need a room for the night,” you replied, glancing back at Hongjoong, who was leaning heavily against the wall, fighting to stay awake.

The older woman nodded, her eyes flickering to Hongjoong before returning to you. "Of course, dear. We have one room available, but it only has one bed. I hope… that’s alright?”

Her eyes flickered towards your hand. There was no ring on it and so, if you took that single bed room, it would be quiet… frivolous.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. You yearned to be close to him, to feel his warmth and comfort, but after everything that happened, the thoughts of sleeping close to someone terrified you. And, most important in this current situation; you weren’t married yet. 

Hongjoong, sensing your hesitation, stepped forward. “That will be fine,” he said softly, tired eyes settling upon your figure. “Thank you.”

It seemed you were the only one caring about appearances.

The innkeeper's smile widened, and she quickly handed you a key. “Room 3, just up the stairs. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.”

You nodded, taking the key with trembling hands. “Thank you,” you managed.

You carefully led Hongjoong up the narrow staircase. The wooden steps creaked under your weight, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. It seemed that with your arrival, the sound of previous laughter had fully died down. Or maybe the ringing in your ears was too loud for you to notice any other noises. When you reached the door to your room, you hesitated for a moment before unlocking it and pushing it open.

The room was small but cozy, with a single bed pushed against one wall and a small window that offered a view of the village below. The bed was covered with a thick, quilted blanket, and a simple wooden chair sat in the corner.

Hongjoong sank onto the bed with a sigh, his eyes already half-closed. You stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice gentle. “You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “No, you need to rest properly. We'll share the bed. It’s... it’s fine.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and gratitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “Yes. We'll manage. I trust you.”

And you did. What you did not trust though were your inner demons.

Hongjoong fully collapsed onto the bed, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. You sat beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Rest now,” you whispered. “We’ll figure out the rest in the morning. I'll go ahead and fetch us something to eat, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes already closing. You stayed by his side for a few minutes, then quietly left the room to look for food you both desperately needed.

After finding some bread, cheese, and a couple of apples in the inn's small kitchen, you returned to the room. The scent of the simple meal filled the space, mingling with the comforting warmth of the inn. Hongjoong stirred as you entered, his eyes slowly opening.

“Food,” you announced with a soft smile, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing him a piece of bread. “It's not much, but it's something.”

He took the bread with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a bite. “This is perfect.”

You both ate in silence for a while. Despite the simplicity of the meal, it felt like a feast after eating little to nothing the past few days. Hongjoong's presence, his gentle smile, and the way he looked at you with such trust and affection made the food taste even better.

As you carefully cut and shared the apples with him, your fingers occasionally brushed against his, each touch sending a small shiver down your spine. The tension of the past days seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and connection. You found yourself laughing softly at the way Hongjoong tried to juggle the uncut apples, almost dropping them.

“You're hopeless,” you teased, giggling as he finally managed to catch them.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I'm just a man hopelessly in love,” he corrected, his tone playful yet sincere.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, carefree sound that you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time. It felt good to laugh, to share this moment of lightness with him.

As the meal came to an end, you both settled back on the bed, the small space forcing you to be close. Hongjoong's warmth radiated against your side, his arm brushing against yours. Despite the comfort of his presence, your body immediately tensed.

The last time a man laid next to you, he'd done unspeakable things to you. 

But this… this was Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong.

You trusted him.

Yet at the same time, you were still terrified.

You tried to focus on his steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, but your heart raced, and your skin prickled with unease. You felt a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach, your muscles tightening involuntarily.

You couldn't breathe.

Hongjoong sensed your discomfort, his hand gently covering yours. “It's okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I'm here.”

You nodded, but his reassurance did little to calm the storm inside you. Your mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts and emotions. The warmth of his body was both a comfort and a reminder of all you had endured. You wanted to relax, to let go and feel safe, but your body wouldn't allow it.

Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, each beat drowning out every other sound. Your hands trembled, and you clutched the blanket tightly, trying to ground yourself.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice soft and steady. “Just breathe with me.”

“I can't,” you sobbed.

“Shhh. Just close your eyes.”

You did as he said, focusing on his voice, his warmth. Slowly, you matched your breathing to his. The tension in your muscles began to ease, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind.

Hongjoong's hand never left yours, his thumb tracing soothing patterns on your skin. “You're safe,” he whispered, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, finding strength in his presence. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You felt the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest grounding you. “We'll get through this,” he murmured. “Together.”

“You know,” you slowly began, carefully turning around. Now, face to face with him, you carefully lifted your fingers and started tracing husband features; his acquainted eyebrows, over husband prominent cheekbones to his soft, plush lips, where you remained a little longer.

“I don't think I'd be alive without you, Kim Hongjoong. For that… for you, coming into my life and selflessly saving me, I am beyond thankful. But at the same time… at the same time, I can't help but think that if you'd never met me… you could still live your normal life. Sometimes… it gets all too much.”

You held his gaze, your fingers repeating your previous actions of lightly tracing the curve of his lips. “You’ve given me so much, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “More than I ever thought I deserved.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “You deserve everything, Y/N. More than I could ever give.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache. “I don't know what I'd do without you,” you said, your voice breaking. “You've been my rock, my savior. I... I don't know if I can ever repay you.”

Hongjoong's hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers gently kneading the tension there. “You don't need to repay me. Just being with you is enough. Seeing you smile, hearing your laughter... that's all I need for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of his touch. His fingers were warm and strong, yet so gentle. It was a stark contrast to the harshness you had known before. 

“You shine so bright, Joongie. Like the sun. My sun.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “And you will shine like that too again. Soon,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your skin. The intimacy of the moment made your heart race, but it wasn't fear this time. It was something else, something deeper.

Something only Kim Hongjoong could make you feel.

You opened your eyes, finding his face so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I'm scared. Not of you, but of losing you. Of the future. Of what might happen if they find us.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. “We won't let that happen. We're stronger together. They won't find us. Once we're in the capital, I’ll handle everything, okay?”

His words gave you strength, and you found yourself leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in a tender, lingering kiss. It was slow and gentle, a silent promise of your love and devotion towards each other. His hand slipped into your hair, holding you close as your lips moved together, exploring and savoring each other.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads still touching. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with pure, raw emotion.

Hongjoong's eyes softened, his thumb tracing your jawline. “And I love you,” he replied, his voice just as tender. “More than words can say.”

You stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. In his embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved. The fear and anxiety that had plagued you began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Let’s rest now,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll face it together.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Together,” you echoed, your voice steady.

He gently guided you down onto the bed, pulling the blanket over both of you. His arms remained around you, holding you close as you settled into the warmth of his embrace. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt his lips press a gentle kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Goodnight, my love,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, your heart full. 

That night, you finally had a good, peaceful sleep.

“How long until we arrive at the capital?”

Hongjoong was leaning against the carriage window, his eyes scanning the horizon. A storm would be coming soon, he said.

“Two more days, if we keep this pace,” he replied, turning to face you. “The storm may slow us down a bit.”

You nodded. The journey had been long and exhausting, the constant tension of being on the run making you an anxious mess. But with Hongjoong by your side, you felt a strength you had never known before.

The carriage jostled along the uneven road, the sounds of the wheels clattering against the stones a constant reminder of the distance still left to travel. You glanced at Hongjoong, his face etched with determination despite the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes.

“We’ll make it,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. “We have to.”

He reached out, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We will,” he affirmed, his voice steady. “And once we’re there, we’ll find a way to solve all this mess. To start over.”

You leaned against him, drawing comfort from his presence. 

You traveled through several more small villages, their inhabitants just beginning to stir. Farmers led their livestock out to pasture, and shopkeepers opened their doors, the smell of fresh bread and morning fires wafting through the air. The sight of these simple, everyday routines filled you with a strange sense of peace, a reminder that life went on, and that, maybe in the future, your life may look like this too.

Simple yet happy and fulfilling.

And then, you arrived. 

You gasped as the large gates of the city appeared in front of you.

The capital was a sprawling maze of streets and alleys, bustling with activity. Everything here was just so much larger, louder and generally more impressive, a stark contrast to the quiet, simpler life you had known. The noise and commotion seemed to close in around you, but Hongjoong’s steady presence kept you grounded.

“It's a lot to take in, right?” he asked.

You nodded, mouth opened in awe as you took in your surroundings. “It's huge. I can't stop looking everywhere!”

He laughed, gently squeezing your hand. “We'll have plenty of time to explore everything once we've settled in properly. I'll show you all my favorite places, okay?”

You smiled at him. A gentle, real smile. “Okay!”

Hongjoong looked around, his eyes bright with excitement despite the exhaustion. “Luckily for us, two of my closest friends live here. They’re good people, and I’m sure they’ll offer us a place to stay.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “That would be wonderful. I can’t wait to meet them. You haven't told me much about your past, so I’m really excited, Joongie.”

“In the future, I'll tell you everything you want to know. My past, present and future are yours, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered, and a deep blush coated your face. A sheepish smile stole its way onto your lips.

Hongjoong led you through the bustling streets, expertly navigating the maze of alleys and markets. After a few twists and turns, you arrived at a modest but welcoming home. 

He hastily jumped up the carriage and then held his hand out for you to take it. You smiled at him. Your lover was a true gentleman, and it made you feel all giddy inside, even at such a small gesture.

Hongjoong knocked on the door, and moments later, it swung open to reveal a tall, athletic man with sharp features and an inquisitive look.

“Hongjoong?” the man said in surprise, his eyes widening. The first thing you noticed was his clothes. They looked… expensive. And yet, he lived in such a small home.

You wondered what his story was.

“What are you doing here?”

“San, it’s a long story,” Hongjoong replied, pulling San into a hug. “We need a place to stay. Is Wooyoung home?”

San nodded, stepping aside to let you both in. “He’s in the kitchen. Come in.”

As you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by the comforting smell of home-cooked food. A few moments later, another man appeared, carrying a tray of freshly baked bread. He had a playful sparkle in his eyes and a welcoming smile on his face.

“Who do we have here?” Wooyoung asked, setting the tray down and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Wooyoung, this is my friend,” Hongjoong introduced you. “She's been traveling with me.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise and then softened. “Well, any friend of Hongjoong’s is welcome here. Please, make yourself at home.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at their genuine hospitality. San and Wooyoung led you to a cozy living room where a fire crackled in the hearth. You sank into a comfortable chair, letting out a sigh as your aching muscles relaxed.

“Sorry for the sudden arrival,” Hongjoong said, his tone sincere. “We didn’t have time to send word ahead.”

San waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re safe. What’s going on?”

Hongjoong looked at you first, before briefly explaining: “It's too long of a story to share in detail. But, we had to flee from where we came from and are now on a mission to… clear up some misunderstandings. I can promise you two that you'll be kept out of any trouble. I just… need a safe place, especially to keep my woman safe.”

San nodded, curiously glancing towards you as the words ‘my woman’ left Hongjoong’s mouth. You smiled awkwardly at the man. “We have a spare room you can use, Hongjoong.”

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes. It wasn't much, but just having a place to stay, surrounded by people you knew Hongjoong trusted, was enough to make you feel all sorts of emotions. 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Hongjoong squeezed your hand again, his own eyes full of gratitude. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered softly. “Wooyoung and San are good, nice people. How about you just relax and befriend them while I'll do the work, hm?”

“I couldn't possibly-”

“Oh, but you can”, he interrupted you, playfully playing with your hair. “My Y/N should never worry her pretty head about anything again now that she's with me.”

You giggled sheepishly. “Oh Joongie, you're such a flirt!”

“Ahem.” A voice interrupted you and suddenly, the bubble around the two of you burst and you were reminded that you were not alone but, in fact, in the house of two men who were now very openly staring at you.

One who was cackling behind his hand like a menace - Wooyoung - and the other one who did not know where he should look. You, or the very interesting ceiling?

“So, ‘my woman', huh?” Wooyoung teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since when did you become such a romantic, Hongjoong? And most importantly: where’s our invitation to the wedding?”

Hongjoong’s ears turned a deep shade of red, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wooyoung, now’s not the time…”

“Oh, but it’s always the time for love, Joongie!” Wooyoung replied with a dramatic flourish. “Here we were, thinking you were just wandering around from city to city and selling your dresses, but no, you were secretly out there sweeping a lovely lady off her feet!”

San tried to interject, a desperate attempt to hold the man beside him back. “Wooyoung, maybe we should-”

“San, don’t be a killjoy,” Wooyoung interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “This is the most excitement we’ve had in weeks! Besides, our Hongjoong, who couldn't even look a woman into the eye the last time we saw him, has finally grown up. We must celebrate!”

“I'm older than both of you, Wooyoung!”

Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed. You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation, feeling a bit more at ease in the presence of the two strangers now.

“Y/N, you should know,” Wooyoung continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “Hongjoong here is quite the catch. He’s a gentleman, a true and talented dressmaker, and apparently, a poet. ‘My woman’, indeed.”

San finally managed to find his voice. “Alright, Wooyoung, give them a break. They’ve had a long journey, and they need rest, not your joking.”

Wooyoung pouted dramatically. “Fine, fine. But don’t think this conversation is over, Hongjoong. We need all the juicy details later.”

Hongjoong groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “You never change, do you, Wooyoung?”

“Never,” Wooyoung replied proudly. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

San shook his head, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get you both settled in. You can rest, and we’ll talk more later. Until then Wooyoung, behave yourself.”

Wooyoung saluted playfully. “Aye, aye, captain!”

Later that evening, after a hearty meal and much laughter with Wooyoung and San, you were led into a small, cozy room. The modest bed in the corner looked incredibly inviting after the long journey. You quickly freshened up, San kindly lending you some spare clothing for the night, before returning back to the room. Hongjoong was already there, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling lost in thought. You quietly slipped in beside him, the bed creaking softly under your weight.

He turned to you, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

“Tired,” you admitted, snuggling closer to him. 

Only then did you realize that, despite sharing the bed with him multiple times now, this was the first time both of you wore proper sleeping clothing. Therefore, both of you were a bit… more exposed than usual.

Suddenly, you were very, very aware of the naked skin his hand was occasionally touching.

And your heart skipped a beat. This time, not of the usual warmth Hongjoong ignited within you all the time.

No, this time, there was also a hint of fear rushing through your veins.

You closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the softness of his touch, yet the past clung to you like a shroud, and you felt a flicker of hesitation within you.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and soothing, “you can trust me.” There was an earnestness in his tone, a promise that echoed in the silence of the room. He shifted closer, his body radiating heat and a sense of safety that beckoned you to let go of your fears and open your eyes to meet him.

Nothing but sincerity and love greeted you in his gaze.

As his hand traced a gentle path along your arm, you shivered at the sensation. It was a touch that was so different from what you had known, devoid of the harshness that had once marred your skin and spirit. His fingers danced lightly over your wrist, and you felt a rush of warmth that sent a thrill through your heart, igniting a yearning you had thought was lost forever.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded carefully. It was a struggle to separate the innocence of his affection from the painful memories that tainted your every being. You could feel your breath quicken as he leaned closer, the scent of him - fresh and comforting - surrounding you like a soft embrace.

Hongjoong’s fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face towards his. The way he looked at you, with such reverence and care, made your heart ache. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, and it felt like a balm to your soul. You had craved this kind of tenderness, and even though the man in front of you was willing to give it to you, to give you his all, a remaining feeling of panic remained deep inside of you.

“I'm sorry you have to deal with this again. One may think that after we slept side by side so many times already I would get used to it. I don't know why I'm so pathe-”

“Princess, don't you dare finish this sentence. You're incredible and don't have to apologize for a single thing.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. It was a kiss that said so, so much, a kiss that was patient and completely unhurried. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you like a protective cocoon.

You did your best to believe in his words.

That night, nothing more happened. 

Hongjoong knew that it would take you a long while to truly let go of your fears.

And, while tracing more gentle kisses along your skin, all he said was: “I don't need you to give me your body to know that you are already mine and I am yours.”

The next day, as you slowly woke up and blinked the tears away, you noticed two things immediately: winter was coming, and the temperatures were dropping quickly and, most importantly; Hongjoong's side of the bed was empty.

There was no logical explanation for the panic that immediately set in, yet you felt your chest tightening and your heart pounding quickly. You rushed out of bed, almost stumbling over your own feet as you slipped into the soft pantoffels San provided you with, and sprinted down the stairs. 

“Woah, what's the rush-”

“Wooyoung”, you interrupted the man with sleepy, still half-closed eyes, “Where's Hongjoong?”

He scratched the back of his hand. “He left when you fell asleep last night. All he said was that he had some matters to take care of and would be back early in the morning. He… isn't back yet?”

The weight of Wooyoung's words hit you like a train. If Hongjoong had promised to be back by morning, then where was he? The sun was already peeking through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, and there was still no sign of him. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to make sense of the situation.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the panic threatened to overwhelm you. “No… he isn't back yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt foreign on your tongue. 

Wooyoung's expression shifted from confusion to concern. “Maybe he got held up somewhere? You know how he is… always taking on more than he should.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that as the answer. “He wouldn't just leave without telling me. Not like this.” 

But what if he would? 

The unease in your chest grew stronger, the fear tightening its grip around your heart.

Wooyoung reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe he's on his way back right now.”

But you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the doubt he was trying so hard to hide. The pit in your stomach deepened, and you knew you couldn't just sit around waiting, hoping that everything would be okay. 

“I need to find him,” you said, determination lacing your voice. You quickly turned on your heel, heading for the door without another word.

"Wait!" Wooyoung called after you, but you were already halfway out the door, your mind set on one thing: finding Hongjoong.

And then you pumped head first into San.

“Careful, little one. What's the-”

“Have you seen Hongjoong?” you blurted out, your voice trembling as you nearly collided with San.

San’s usually warm expression was replaced with a frown. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on? Why are you in such a rush?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Should you tell them? Would they even understand? Hongjoong hasn't told them anything concrete about your situation as of now, and you weren't sure if you should tell them without him present.

“He’s… He’s not back yet. Wooyoung said he left last night, but he should’ve been back by now.”

San’s eyes widened. “And he hasn't said where he's going?”

You shook your head, fighting to keep your voice steady. “No. But I... I can’t just sit around and wait. I need to find him.”

San looked conflicted, glancing over at Wooyoung, who had followed you outside. “But you don’t know your way around the capital. You could get lost or… worse.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but San gently placed a hand on your arm, stopping you. “I get that you’re worried, but let’s wait a bit longer, okay? He wouldn’t want you getting into trouble trying to find him.”

The thought of sitting around doing nothing while Hongjoong was out there - somewhere - felt unbearable. He was shouldering all your problems alone, and it made you both guilty and mad that he didn't even tell you a single thing. 

Reluctantly, you nodded, and San led you back inside the house. The atmosphere was heavy as the three of you settled into the living room, the clock on the wall ticking away the minutes in agonizing slowness.

“So… uh…”

Awkward silence set in, both men looking at each other concerned. Wooyoung, trying to lighten the mood, leaned back on the couch and stretched.

“Uh.. Did you know that San literally can't sleep without hugging something? And with something, I mean me - like, this man doesn't know how strong he is and literally suffocates me every night!”, he laughs.

You glanced at San, who looked somewhat mortified, a blush creeping up his neck. “Wooyoung…” he muttered, giving him a half-hearted glare. Unfortunately, his joke did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only made the awkwardness more palpable. “Uh, that's… interesting,” you mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. You liked them both, but conversations with them always felt like you were navigating a minefield, unsure of where to step. 

Especially now that Hongjoong wasn't here with you.

San rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “It's not like that, really. It's just… a comfort thing, I guess.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, stealing glances at Wooyoung and San, who were both trying, in their own ways, to lighten the atmosphere. They were being so kind, so patient, but it only made you feel worse. You weren’t used to this. It was foreign, almost suffocating, in a way you couldn't quite understand. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, breaking the silence, seemingly ignoring that you still haven't said anything to his joking attempt to lighten the mood. “So, uh, have you had breakfast yet? I can make something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head, though the thought of eating made your stomach twist in a knot. “No, I’m… I’m not really hungry.” 

“Coffee, then?” San offered, trying to keep the conversation going. “Or tea? I think there’s still some left in the kitchen.” 

You hesitated, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Maybe… tea?” It felt like the right thing to say, even if you weren’t sure you could stomach anything right now. 

San nodded, giving you a small, encouraging smile. “Tea it is. I’ll be right back.” He got up, his footsteps almost too loud in the quiet room, leaving you alone with Wooyoung. The silence between you and the other man was thick, both of you unsure of what to say. You could feel his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, afraid that if you looked up, he’d see just how out of sorts you really were.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, clearly trying to come up with something to break the tension. “You know, I don’t think we’ve really had the chance to talk much… Just us,” he said.

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up. You wanted to be able to talk to him, to say something normal, but the words just wouldn’t come. It was frustrating - feeling like you were locked inside your own head, even when you desperately wanted to reach out. He leaned back, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I get it, though. Meeting new people can be… overwhelming.”

You looked up at him. “It’s just… I’m not really used to this. To any of this,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Wooyoung nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I figured. But hey, no pressure. We’re just… trying to make you feel welcome, you know? You're Hongjoong's girl, after all.”

“I know,” you replied quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I really appreciate it. I do. It’s just… hard, sometimes.”

He didn’t press you, just nodded again, his eyes soft. “It’s okay. We’re not in any rush. We’ve all got our own issues, you know?”

Before you could respond, San returned, holding a steaming mug of tea. He handed it to you with a small, reassuring smile. “Here you go. It’s chamomile - good for relaxing.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered, wrapping your hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into your skin. 

San settled back into his seat, the three of you once again falling into a somewhat awkward silence. You sipped your tea, the warmth soothing your throat, but it did little to calm the turmoil inside you. They were trying so hard, and that only made it worse. You could see the effort in every glance, every word. They didn’t know your past, your struggles, and you didn’t know how to tell them - didn’t even know if you should. And so you stayed quiet, trapped in your own thoughts, feeling like an outsider despite their best efforts.

“I guess… I’m just not good at this,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“At what?” San asked gently, leaning forward slightly.

“Talking. Being around people. Making… friends I don’t know how to…” You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, not in a mocking way, but as if he understood more than you realized. “You’re doing just fine. We’re not exactly pros at this either, you know. Most of the time, we’re just winging it.”

San nodded in agreement. “He’s right. It’s okay to not know what to say. We’re just… glad you’re here.”

Their words made something inside you ache. You still weren’t used to kindness without strings attached, to people caring just because. It felt undeserved, even after Hongjoong showed you that you did in fact deserve it, and that made you even more unsure of how to act. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You wanted to be better at this, for them, for Hongjoong, but you didn’t know how.

Wooyoung grinned, nudging your shoulder lightly. “No need to thank us. We’re all in this together, right?”

You nodded, managing a small smile in return. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And that was enough for now.

If someone would've told you that you'd ever be genuinely mad at Kim Hongjoong, you definitely would've laughed right in their face. Because Hongjoong was the kindest, sweetest man you'd ever known, so what would ever make you angry at him?

“Ah, look who's back,” was all you said as you heard the door close behind you.

You had never imagined feeling this way toward Hongjoong, the man who you grew to love so much. But now, as you stood in your shared living room, hearing the door close behind you, that anger burned hotter, fueled by the fear and helplessness that had consumed you all morning.

You didn't turn around to face him immediately, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one only making the knot in your chest tighter. 

The sound of his footsteps approaching filled the room, and you could feel his presence behind you, close enough to touch. For a moment, you considered letting it go, just brushing it all under the rug like you’d done with so many things before. But this was different. This problem wasn't just his alone; this was your life too, your problems, your fears, and he had just walked away, leaving you in the dark.

Hongjoong hesitated. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” he began, but that was all it took to make you whirl around, your emotions spilling over.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” The words came out harsher than you intended, but you couldn’t stop them. “You left without saying a word, Hongjoong. I don't even know where you went! You promised you’d be back by morning, and then you just… didn’t come back. It's almost midnight now! Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His eyes widened, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said, his voice softening, but you could see the guilt in his eyes. “I just had to take care of some things-”

“But why alone?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do you always do this? You think you have to handle everything by yourself, like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be protected. But this is my problem too, Joong! I have a right to know, to help, to be there with you! Because…” your voice broke, and you looked at the floor as you wiped a tear away, “because the guilt is eating me alive, Joong. Without me… without me, none of this would have ever happened. It all began with me, so I should… I should take responsibility too.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “Hey, hey, no,” he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out to cup your face, but you took a step back and shook your head silently.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like this is just something we can brush aside, like it’s no big deal. You think you’re protecting me by keeping things from me, but you’re not. You’re only making it worse. I can’t keep doing this, Joong. I can’t keep pretending that it’s okay for you to shut me out. For you to shoulder everything alone.”

Hongjoong’s hand dropped to his side, his face crumbling with regret. “I never wanted to shut you out. I just… I didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to feel like you had to carry this burden. You're still so… hurt. I thought I was doing the right thing by handling it on my own.”

“But it’s not just your burden to carry!” you cried, your voice breaking. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Joong. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle. You don’t get to just leave me in the dark, wondering if you’re okay, wondering if you’ll even come back. I was worried sick the whole day!”

His eyes were filled with a pain that mirrored your own, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say, like he didn’t know how to make this right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over your cheeks as you looked at him, at the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who had somehow become a stranger to you in this moment. 

“I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight,” you mumbled. “You may talk to me again when you're finally ready to include me in your plans. Until then… good night, Joong.”

“Y/N, wait-”

But the door shut close behind you before he could finish his sentence.

“H‐hey, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to eavesdrop, but I heard you two arguing...” San’s voice trailed off, his gaze meeting yours. The moment your tear-filled eyes locked with his, the emotions you’d been trying so hard to keep in check threatened to overflow.

For a second, you hesitated. You weren’t close to San - not really. He was still more of a stranger than a friend, someone who was kind and caring but still somewhat distant. But right now, you felt like you were drowning, and he was the only solid thing within your reach.

Without thinking, you moved towards him. As soon as you reached him, you hesitated again, but before you could pull back, San’s arms wrapped around you in a warm, protective embrace. You buried your face in his chest, and the dam inside you finally broke.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you cried against him, the sobs you’d been holding back all day finally breaking free. San stiffened for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but he quickly relaxed, his hold tightening slightly as he let you cry it out.

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear - it was the first comfort you’d felt all day. But even as he stood there comforting you, you still felt torn. The only person you'd ever fully confined in was Hongjoong. This was new territory for you, and it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

San didn’t say anything, just stood there quietly, holding you as you trembled in his arms. His hand moved slowly to your back, rubbing gentle circles as he tried to soothe you. His touch was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing.

As your sobs subsided, leaving you with shaky breaths and red, tear-streaked cheeks, you slowly pulled back, wiping your eyes. You were still in his arms, but you felt the awkwardness creeping back in, and your gaze wandered again, not knowing where to look.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “I didn’t mean to…”

San shook his head, his gaze softening. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to break down sometimes.”

You managed a small, shaky smile, but the uncertainty was still there, lingering between you. “I just… I don’t know what to do, San. I feel so lost. Hongjoong… he means everything to me, but he’s shutting me out. I know he has only my best interest at heart, but… This is my story, too. And I don’t know how to handle that.”

San hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly what you’re going through,” he began, “but I do know that Hongjoong cares about you - more than you probably realize. He’s just… used to handling things on his own. ”

You nodded.

“You’re… you’re really kind, San,” you murmured, your voice still trembling. “But we barely know each other. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

San’s expression softened even more, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not a burden. We all have our struggles, and sometimes it helps to have someone to lean on, even if it’s someone you’re not that close to… yet.” He added that last word with a gentle emphasis, as if offering a bridge to something more.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a small crack in the walls you've built around yourself. 

And so, in the heat of the moment, you told him everything. San brought you to the living room, where he carefully sat you down and wrapped you in a blanket, and as Wooyoung joined you two, you told them everything.

About your marriage, your family, your town - and about the man who took it upon himself to save you from this cruel fate.

The tension between you and Hongjoong had been unbearable for days. Ever since that night, neither of you had spoken more than a few words to each other. 

You had thrown yourself into anything that could keep your mind busy - cleaning, reading, anything to avoid thinking about the rift that had formed between you and the man you loved. 

Then, one evening, as you sat alone in the living room, lost in thought, you heard the front door creak open. Hongjoong stepped in, his presence immediately filling the room with the weight of everything left unsaid. Your heart clenched at the sight of him - he looked exhausted, worn down by the stress of the past few days.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you, as if trying to gauge your mood, before finally breaking the silence. “We need to talk.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, but you nodded, too tired to resist any longer. “Okay,” you said quietly, standing up from the couch and facing him.

Hongjoong swallowed, his throat bobbing as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you’re still angry at me,” he began, his voice low and strained. “And I understand why. I learned my lesson, Y/N. But now… now I wanna include you. If you… if you want that.”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him, your heart beating faster as he continued.

“There’s someone we need to see,” he said after a pause, his eyes searching for yours. “Someone who can help us, who can clear my name and… maybe, just maybe, give us a chance at a life without all this running and hiding.”

You blinked, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. “Who… who are you talking about?”

Hongjoong took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “The Queen,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the only one powerful enough to undo this mess. I’ve been trying to arrange a meeting with her for days, but she’s… she’s not easy to reach. But now… now we can finally meet her.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “The Queen? As in… the Queen?” 

The Queen was a figure of almost mythical power, someone so far removed from your world that the idea of asking for her help seemed as impossible as wishing on a star.

But Hongjoong’s expression was deadly serious, and you could see the determination burning in his eyes. He wasn’t just grasping at straws - he truly believed this was your last chance, your only hope to end the nightmare that had taken over your lives.

“The Queen,” he confirmed, his voice steady, though his hands were shaking slightly as he reached out to you. 

“You know… I… I’ve worked for her for years, Y/N. I made her gowns, her dresses, the wedding dress she wore when she married the King… that was mine. She told me once, when I presented it to her, that if I ever needed anything, anything at all, she would do her best to help me. And I never thought I’d have to take her up on that offer, but now… I have no other choice.”

“The Queen… oh my God,” you whispered. “This is… insane.”

The reality of what Hongjoong was saying began to sink in, and your mind spun with the implications. The Queen, the most powerful woman in the kingdom, someone who could alter the course of your lives with just a single word… It was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d grown up hearing stories about her, tales of her beauty, wisdom, and strength. But those were just stories. The idea of meeting her, let alone asking for her help, seemed impossible. Yet here Hongjoong was, standing in front of you, serious and resolute.

“I know it sounds insane,” Hongjoong said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “But this is our best chance, Y/N. Maybe our only chance. And we have evidence. The letters, remember?

“-And the scars on my body,” you whispered. 

Hongjoong bawled his hands, his jaw clenching immediately. “You never… told me you had remaining scars.”

You nodded. “Ignoring them is easier. I try to… forget them entirely when I can.”

Without a word, he moved closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a silent gesture of comfort. You leaned into him, the warmth of his body making you relax immediately.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, shifting the focus back to the task at hand. “We need to get ready,” he said, his voice steady. “If we’re going to meet the Queen, we can’t go in looking like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no time to waste. I have to make something for us,” he said, determination flashing in his eyes. “We need to look elegant. I might not have my supplies here, but I can work with what we have.”

Your heart raced at the thought of him making outfits from scratch. “Are you sure you can do that?”

He nodded firmly, already moving toward the small room where you were temporarily staying in Wooyoung and San's house. “I’ll figure it out. Just give me a minute to gather some things.”

You watched as he began searching through the limited fabric and materials you had, his hands working swiftly. He rummaged through the closet, pulling out old sheets and any leftover clothing you had brought along. You felt a mixture of admiration and anxiety as you realized the weight of what he was attempting to do.

“What do you need me to do?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“There's a shop nearby that sells fabrics,” he said, already rummaging through his pockets for money, “I need you to buy me some. Can you do that?”

Your heart raced at the urgency in his voice, but a wave of uncertainty washed over you. “Uh, sure, but... I’m not sure where it is,” you admitted, glancing out the window. The sun was starting to set, and you were acutely aware of the time slipping away.

“I’ll draw you a quick map,” he said, moving quickly to grab a scrap of paper and a pen. He sketched a simple layout, marking the route to the shop with clear, careful lines. “You can do this, Y/N. Just follow the map, and don’t let anyone see you.”

You nodded. “What do you need me to get?” 

“Just some quality fabric, something that looks nice but isn’t too extravagant. Maybe something dark for me, something light and flowing for you,” he instructed, glancing up at you. “Can you remember that?”

You took a deep breath, nodding again. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Great,” he said, folding the paper and handing it to you. “I’ll need you back as soon as possible. We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll be quick,” you promised. As you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of him, already immersed in his work, the fabric and thread strewn across the table like a chaotic canvas. 

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air hit your face. You followed the map he had drawn. The shop wasn’t far, and soon you found yourself standing in front of a small fabric store, the sign creaking softly in the breeze.

Once inside, the overwhelming scent of textiles filled your senses. Bolts of fabric in every color and texture lined the walls, and the shopkeeper gave you a curious look as you stepped in. Remembering Hongjoong’s instructions, you immediately focused on finding something that fit his descriptions. 

After scanning the shelves, you spotted a soft, flowing fabric in a light cream color that seemed perfect. You could almost picture how beautiful it would look on you. With that in mind, you also searched for a darker fabric for Hongjoong. You settled on a deep navy blue, rich yet understated, that would complement the cream tone perfectly.

With your choices made, you approached the counter, your heart pounding as you handed over the money Hongjoong had given you. The shopkeeper smiled and carefully wrapped the fabric. 

“Thank you,” you said, clutching the bundle tightly as you headed back outside. 

As you stepped through the door of Wooyoung and San's house, you saw Hongjoong still working diligently. He looked up, his eyes lighting up as he saw the fabric in your arms. “You did it!” he exclaimed, taking the fabric from you. “This is perfect!”

You smiled, relieved to see his excitement. “I hope it’s what you wanted. I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s exactly what I needed,” he said, moving quickly to lay the fabric out on the table. “Now, we can start putting everything together.”

Hongjoong spread the fabrics across the table, eyes gleaming with purpose. “This is going to be incredible,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. You watched him with admiration as he quickly sketched designs in his notebook, his mind racing with ideas.

The first night stretched on, the room dimly lit by a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. You could hear the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine as Hongjoong lost himself in the work. 

Time blurred as the night turned into dawn, and you found yourself falling in and out of sleep. The only sounds were the soft whir of the machine and the occasional rustle of fabric. You’d occasionally catch Hongjoong stealing glances at you, and though he was clearly exhausted, there was a fire in his eyes that wouldn't die down.

By morning, the first pieces of your outfits began to take shape. “Look at this,” Hongjoong said, holding up the bodice of your gown. His excitement was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile. “It’s coming together beautifully, don’t you think?”

“It’s stunning, Hongjoong,” you replied, your heart swelling with admiration. “I can't wait to see the final piece.”

As he set it down and returned to his work, you noticed how hard he had to concentrate just to keep his eyes open. He was clearly pushing himself to the limit. You wanted to urge him to take a break, to rest for a moment, but you hesitated.

Hongjoong moved with practiced precision, cutting and sewing and cutting and sewing; repeating the same routine over and over again.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, his pace slowed down more and more.

“Hongjoong,” you finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at this for so long.”

He paused, looking at you with those tired yet determined eyes. “I can’t stop now. We’re so close. I just need to finish your gown, and then I’ll rest, I promise.”

You sighed. “Okay, but promise me you’ll take care of yourself too. I don’t want you collapsing from exhaustion when we meet the Queen.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, but the laughter quickly faded as he nodded. “I promise, Y/N. Just a bit longer.”

A bit longer turned out to be one more day full of work.

On the evening of the second day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hongjoong finally stepped back, surveying the gown he had made for you. The fabric flowed beautifully, a soft cream color with delicate embroidery that accentuates your figure. It was breathtaking.

“Look,” he said, gesturing to the dress. “It’s finished.”

“It doesn't matter how many dresses of yours I'll see, I'll always be amazed… you're so talented, Joongie,” you said, slowly stepping between his legs and carefully combing through his hair.

Hongjoong slung his arms around your waist and laid his head on your stomach, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his reassurance settle within you. “So, how exactly will we get to the palace?” you asked, trying to shift the focus from your worries to practical matters.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes brightening as he began to explain. “The Queen’s servants are discreet and efficient. After I sent word to her, she agreed to send a carriage for us. It should arrive tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” The reality sent your heart racing again. “Do we have everything ready? What if something goes wrong?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry. Everything is in place. The only thing we need to do is stay calm.”

The following morning arrived way too fast. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and a warm breeze entering your room through the window.

Hongjoong was already up, carefully folding the outfits he had poured his heart into over the past two days. You stood up and approached him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Are you ready for this?” you asked softly.

He nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, offering you a small smile. 

You gave him a reassuring nod yourself, though your own nerves were starting to fray. The idea of meeting the Queen, of putting your fate in her hands, felt surreal. But there was no turning back now. You quickly changed into the gown Hongjoong had created for you, the fabric cool against your skin, yet surprisingly comforting. It fit you perfectly, accentuating your form in all the right ways, the soft cream color making you feel both elegant and ethereal.

Though the dress Hongjoong created back in your hometown, the one so blue it reminded you if the sea itself, would always be your favorite, this one was nonetheless nothing but breathtaking. 

When you finally emerged, Hongjoong’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at you for a long moment, a proud smile stealing its way on his lips. “You look… beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like I imagined.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “You look amazing, too.”

Hongjoong's gaze softened as you stepped closer. All that mattered was him, standing before you, his eyes tracing every curve and line of your face.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. His breath hitched at the simple touch, and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, the love, the desire, and the lingering regret of the days you'd spent apart. 

His hands found your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. The heat of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest, 

Hongjoong’s eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission, for reassurance. You didn’t need to say a word - your eyes told him everything he needed to know. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

When his lips finally met yours, the world around you seemed to disappear. The kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring every second. His lips were soft, warm, and as they moved against yours, you felt a deep, aching need stirring within you, a need that had been building for days, weeks, months.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Hongjoong responded in kind, his grip on your waist tightening as his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to gain better access. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as if all the emotions you'd both been holding back were pouring out in this one, desperate act.

You could taste the urgency on his lips, feel the way his heart was racing just as fast as yours. His tongue brushed against yours, sending a wave of heat through your body that made you feel like you were melting into him. The kiss was everything - sweet and tender, yet fierce and consuming.

Hongjoong’s hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. You could feel the strength in his arms, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, and it only made you want him more. 

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Hongjoong’s eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss. He looked at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and desire, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real, that this very moment here was real.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs gently across his cheeks. “I love you too, Hongjoong. I always have. I always will.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, as if he had all the time in the world to show you just how much he loved you, how much you meant to him.

“You ready?” he asked as he took a step back. You instantly missed his lips on yours, but you nodded nonetheless. 

He offered you his hand, and you took it without hesitation.  

As you stepped aside, clearly overdressed in this rural neighborhood, the carriage was already waiting, a sleek, black vehicle with the Queen’s crest emblazoned on the side. The horses were well-groomed, their coats gleaming in the sunlight. A stern-looking driver stood by, his expression unreadable as he held the door open for you. With one last deep breath, you and Hongjoong climbed inside, settling onto the plush seats.

The carriage began to move slowly, the sound of the wheels clattering against the cobblestones filled the silence. You glanced at Hongjoong, who was staring out the window, his jaw clenched. 

For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply watched the world pass by outside. 

Finally, Hongjoong broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

The question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden change in topic. But as you met his gaze, you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in days.

The sudden shift in conversation caught you off guard, but a small smile crept onto your face as the memory came flooding back. “Of course, I remember,” you replied, chuckling softly. “How could I forget that? Ah, Django… I miss him… And Benji… oh God, my little Benji… I hope they're all well.”

“They are, my love. I'm sure they are.”

And then, as the carriage rounded a final bend, the palace finally came into view. It was a magnificent structure, with its white marble walls glowing in the fading light. The Queen’s residence was every bit as awe-inspiring as the stories had said, its towering spires reaching towards the heavens.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight, and you felt Hongjoong’s grip on your hand tighten.

As the carriage drew closer, you could see a group of palace guards standing right outside the gates, their armor gleaming under the soft glow of the lanterns that lined the pathway to the grand entrance. The carriage came to a smooth stop, and the driver emerged, opening the door for you and Hongjoong.

You took a deep breath. Hongjoong stepped out first, offering his hand to help you down. As your feet touched the ground, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

The grand doors of the palace opened with a slow, deliberate creak, revealing a tall, elegant woman dressed in a deep burgundy gown. Her presence was commanding, yet her expression was kind as she approached.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice smooth and authoritative. “The Queen has been expecting you.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hongjoong, who gave you a small nod, before you both followed the woman inside. The interior of the palace was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with high ceilings adorned with various paintings and chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds. The floor beneath your feet was made of polished marble, and the soft click of your shoes were echoing through the halls.

As you walked deeper into the palace, the grandeur only increased. Walls were lined with portraits of past kings and queens, their eyes seeming to follow you as you passed. 

Finally, you were led to a pair of ornately carved doors, which the woman pushed open with ease. Beyond them was a grand chamber, bathed in the warm light of a thousand candles. At the far end of the room, seated on a throne that seemed to be carved out of pure gold, was the Queen herself.

She was as regal as you had imagined, with an aura of quiet power that made the room feel smaller, the air more charged. Her hair was a rich, dark color, intricately braided and adorned with jewels that sparkled with every movement. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, fixed on you and Hongjoong as you entered the room.

“Your Majesty,” Hongjoong said, bowing deeply before you had a chance to follow his lead.

The Queen’s gaze softened as she looked at Hongjoong, a small smile playing on her lips. “Rise, Hongjoong,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “It has been a long time.”

Hongjoong straightened up, but his grip on your hand tightened. You could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain his composure. The Queen’s eyes flicked to you, her expression unreadable. “I see you have brought someone with you, Hongjoong. Please, both of you, come closer.”

You nodded, bowing deeply in respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety that almost made you fall ill.

The Queen studied you for a moment before her gaze returned to Hongjoong. “I understand you’ve come to ask for my help?” she said, her voice carrying the weight of authority.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hongjoong replied. “We’ve found ourselves in desperate need of your help. I’ve brought evidence to prove our case, but… there is also something that only Y/N can show you.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what is this evidence?”

Hongjoong hesitated, glancing at you before speaking. “Your Majesty, before I ask Y/N to show you the evidence, I feel it’s important for you to understand her story - our story - in its entirety.”

The Queen nodded, her expression growing more serious as she settled back into her seat, indicating for him to continue.

Hongjoong took a long, deep breath. “Y/N came from a decent, middle-class family. They lived comfortably - not wealthy, but certainly not poor. Her future should have been secure, perhaps with a marriage that would maintain or even improve her standing in society. But things took a dark turn.”

He paused, glancing at you as if seeking your permission to continue. You gave him a small nod, and he went on, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Her father… he made a decision that changed everything. He married her off to a man well below her status - a drunkard, a violent brute. This man - he was no husband. He was a monster. He raped and beat her almost every day, treating her worse than a common servant. She was trapped in a nightmare, until she… until she had to kill him in self defense to save the both of us.”

“And to protect me,” you chimed in, your desperate gaze finding the woman before you before you continued: “J-joong- I mean, Hongjoong took the blame upon himself. He… he was about to be beheaded for a crime he didn't commit, so I… I took it upon myself to release him and flee with him.”

“We are here to plead our innocence, and to ask for a royal pardon of you, your Majesty,” Hongjoong spoke, standing proud and tall beside you, like the safe haven he always was for you.

“A royal pardon, you say?” she asked.

“Yes. Since no one in our town bothered to even investigate, we ask for you to review all evidence and overturn the decision.”

The Queen’s expression remained inscrutable, giving away nothing of her thoughts. Silence stretched in the grand chamber, broken only by the faint crackling of the candles and the distant echo of footsteps in the vast corridors beyond.

At last, the Queen rose from her throne, the jewels in her hair catching the light as she moved. She descended the steps from the throne with grace 

“I can see the truth in your eyes, but understand this - granting a royal pardon is not a decision I take lightly. There must be undeniable proof,” she said.

She turned to you, her sharp gaze assessing. “Y/N, I need you to show me the evidence Hongjoong mentioned. Whatever it is, it must be enough to convince me beyond doubt.”

You reached into your cloak, pulling out a stack of worn, yellowed letters tied together with a frayed ribbon. Your hands shook as you untied them, revealing the harsh, almost frenzied handwriting of your late husband. You could feel the Queen’s eyes on you, her gaze intense, as you stepped forward and placed the letters in her outstretched hand.

“These letters,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “are from my deceased husband. In them, he admits to everything - his abuse, his threats, and… even his intent to kill me one day. They are his own words, Your Majesty. Written in moments of drunken rage, or cruel clarity. He was proud of what he did, and he never hid that from anyone. But he was also reckless, and he left these behind, never thinking they might be used against him.”

The Queen’s expression remained unreadable once again as she began to read the letters. The room was silent save for the sound of rustling paper. With each page she turned, you felt your heart pound louder, your hands clasping Hongjoong’s tighter.

After what felt like an eternity, the Queen looked up from the letters. Her gaze was more somber now, tinged with something that might have been pity, or perhaps understanding.

“These letters are indeed compelling,” she said slowly, “but it alone is not enough. The word of a dead man, though through his own admission, cannot fully clear your names. I need more.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Your Majesty,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “the whole town knew what was happening. They turned a blind eye, because… because they didn’t want to get involved. I don’t know if I can rely on their testimony. But… my parents, though they looked away for so long, showed great remorse before I fled. They knew what was happening, and they did nothing to stop it. I… though I can never reconcile with them, I have no choice but to trust them this one last time.”

The Queen’s gaze softened slightly as she regarded you. “And you believe they will speak the truth, even now?”

You nodded, though you felt a knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “Yes, Your Majesty. They have to.”

The Queen considered this for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Very well. I will send for your parents and have them brought here to testify. But… there's another thing you want to show me, right?”

You swallowed hard. The letters had made an impact, but the Queen needed more, something undeniable. Your heart raced as you prepared to reveal the evidence that you had hidden for so long, even from yourself.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you replied, your voice trembling. “There is… one more thing I can show you.”

The Queen's eyes narrowed slightly. You hesitated, glancing at Hongjoong, who was watching you, his eyes telling more than words ever could. His presence gave you the strength to go on.

“My body bears the scars of my husband's cruelty,” you said quietly, “Scars that… tell the story of what he did to me.”

For a small second, something in her eyes flickered - perhaps sympathy, perhaps disgust at the thought of such brutality. But it disappeared as fast as it appeared, and she composed herself quickly. “Very well,” she said, her voice low and measured. “Show me.”

But before you could move, the Queen raised a hand to stop you. “Hongjoong,” she addressed him firmly, “you must wait outside. As you are not married, it would be inappropriate for you to remain here.”

Hongjoong looked like he wanted to protest, but he caught himself, understanding his words would make no impact. He nodded and gave you a reassuring look. “I’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “You’re not alone.”

You nodded, trying to offer him a smile. “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

As he was escorted out of the room, the Queen waited until the door closed before turning back to you. The room felt emptier without Hongjoong by your side, but you tried to stay calm nonetheless. 

As he left the room, the Queen gestured to a few of her attendants, and a group of maids quickly approached. Your dress was elegant, more elaborate than you were used to, and you realized you would need help to reveal the scars that were hidden beneath its layers.

The maids moved with practiced efficiency, unfastening the intricate clasps and loosening the delicate fabric of your gown. You felt a wave of vulnerability wash over you as they carefully peeled back the layers, revealing the faint, jagged lines etched into your skin. 

The Queen stepped closer, her gaze intense as she examined the marks. She didn’t speak, but her silence was heavy.

After a long moment, she stepped back, her eyes closing for a moment. “These scars… they cannot be ignored.” She turned to one of her attendants, a stern-looking guard who had been standing by the door. “Send for a scrivener,” she commanded. “These letters and the scars on her body must be documented.”

The man bowed and hurried out of the chamber, leaving you alone with the Queen and the maids, who carefully refastened your dress. The Queen’s eyes softened slightly as she looked at you. “Hongjoong has been a long confidante of mine, so naturally, he has my trust” she said, “But there is still a process that must be followed. The evidence will be recorded, and your parents and anyone else willing to testify will be brought before me. Until then, I must uphold the law.”

Once the scrivener arrived and began documenting the evidence, the Queen addressed you again. “You will be given quarters where you can rest,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “And I will ensure that you have everything you need until the trial begins. Be strong, Y/N. The truth will come to light.”

You bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

And with that, the Queen turned and left the chamber, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Now all you could do was wait.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong's voice reached you the moment you stepped into the tower room. But before you could even respond, you found yourself distracted by your surroundings. For a place meant to imprison you, the room was unexpectedly luxurious - far more so than anything you'd ever experienced. The walls were draped with rich tapestries and the bed was covered in soft linens. A large, plush rug covered the stone floor, and the air smelled faintly of lavender.

You paused, blinking in surprise at the sight. This was supposed to be your prison? It surely made you feel out of place, like it belonged to a royal guest chamber rather than a cell.

"Are you alright?" Hongjoong’s voice broke through your thoughts, concern etched in his features as he took a step closer to you. But before you could answer, the door behind you creaked open again, and a small group of maids entered.

“Your bath is ready, my lady,” one of them said with a polite bow, her voice soft yet firm. “Please, come with us.”

My lady?

You looked at Hongjoong, startled and confused. He gave you an encouraging nod, though he looked just as confused as you.

“Go on,” he said gently. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Reluctantly, you allowed the maids to lead you away, down a small corridor that connected to an adjoining room. The room was even more elaborate, with a large copper tub set in the center, already filled with steaming water that scented the air with rose petals and herbs. Thick, fluffy towels were neatly stacked nearby, and a selection of fine soaps and oils were arranged on a small table besides.

They helped you quickly undress and step into the bath. The warm water immediately melted away the tension from your muscles. As they poured fragrant oils into the water, your eyes closed and you sank deeper into the water. The maids worked in silence, their hands gentle as they washed your hair and scrubbed your skin with fine soaps. Eventually, the bath was over, and you were lifted from the water, wrapped in a thick, warm towel. The maids dried you off and led you to a big mirror where they brushed your hair and dressed you in a white nightgown that felt impossibly soft against your skin.

Once they were done, they stepped back, quietly observing you. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself. The nightgown was simple yet elegant, the white fabric almost transparent against your skin. It flowed down to your ankles, delicate lace trimming the neckline and sleeves. It made you look delicate and almost… sensual. 

Still deep in thought, you were guided back to the main room where Hongjoong was waiting. As you stepped into the room, you saw him pacing near the window, lost in thought. The moment he heard your footsteps, he turned around, and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw you.

For a long, long moment, he simply stared at you, his eyes wide as they traveled over your figure. His usual calm and collected demeanor seemed to crumble as a faint blush colored his cheeks. He quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“You-” Hongjoong began, his voice strained as he took a step closer, his gaze flicking back to you before quickly averting again. “You look… beautiful.” His words were quiet, and you could see the internal battle playing out within him as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

You could see the way his eyes darkened whenever he sneaked a glance at you, something that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but was holding himself back. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but the way he avoided your gaze told you that he was struggling. “I… I didn't mean to stare,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual. "I just… You-”

You took a step closer. Hongjoong's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something raw and intoxicating in his expression - something that sent a shiver down your spine, something that made your mouth dry and your heart beat faster.

“Hongjoong,” you said softly, the sound of his name breaking the silence that had settled between you. “I'm fine. You can-”

“Sir, your bath is prepared as well,” one of the maids said with a polite bow. “Please allow us to assist you.”

Hongjoong stiffened slightly at the offer, clearly taken aback. “Uh, that's not necessary,” he stammered, his usual confidence faltering as a blush crept up his neck. “I can manage on my own.”

The maid, seemingly unfazed, simply nodded. “Of course, sir. But if you require anything, we will be right outside.” With that, she and the others gracefully exited the room, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Hongjoong let out a quiet sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back at you. “Well, I suppose I should... take that bath now,” he said.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I'll wait here,” you said softly, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He stood there for another moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he simply gave you a nod before retreating into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Desperately, you tried to distract yourself from the fact that the man of your dreams was completely bare just a few feet away. But just after a few minutes, you had to admit that it was pointless, and so, your feet took you to the bathroom once again.

You hesitated outside the door, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew this was a bad idea, that you were crossing a line, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Hongjoong was sitting in the tub, his back to the door, the water lapping gently around his figure. Steam filled the room, the scent of the same herbs and soaps you previously used in the air. His head was slightly bowed, his eyes closed, and he seemed lost in thought, completely unaware of your presence.

For a moment, you just stood there, silently watching him. His usually sharp features were entirely relaxed, his shoulders sacked as he soaked in the water. You couldn’t help but admire the way the droplets clung to his skin, the way the muscles in his back moved with each breath he took.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you silently crossed the room. The soft pads of your feet made no noise on the stone floor as you approached the tub. Without thinking, you reached for a cloth that was hanging nearby, dipping it into the warm water.

He still hadn’t noticed you as you knelt beside the tub. Your hand hovered for a moment before you gathered the courage to press the cloth gently against his back.

Hongjoong stiffened immediately, his eyes snapping open as he realized someone was there. He turned his head sharply, his eyes wide as he met your gaze.

“Y/N?” His voice was breathless, and he immediately tried to shield his naked body from you. “What are you doing?”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the blush that was creeping up your cheeks. “I thought… I thought I’d help you relax,” you said softly, your voice trembling with nerves.

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked down to the cloth in your hand and then back to your face. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the way his breathing had quickened, the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“Y/N… you don’t have to…” He trailed off, his voice faltering as you began to gently scrub his back, your movements slow and careful. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away under your touch.

He let out a shaky breath, his head dropping forward again as he allowed himself to relax. “You don't have to do this,” he murmured, though he didn't sound entirely convinced either.

You smiled a little, continuing your work, the cloth gliding over his skin in soothing circles. “Maybe not,” you whispered, “but I wanted to.”

Hongjoong’s breathing was uneven, each exhale shaky as you worked your way across his shoulders, the cloth tracing the lines of his muscles. You could see the way his body tensed, his fists clenching against the edge of the tub as if he was trying to control himself. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. “W-we should really stop… I-”

You gently pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him almost instantly. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, “I want to… I’m ready.”

His eyes found yours, wide with surprise and something else - something deeper. His gaze searched yours, as if he was trying to find any hint of uncertainty, any reason to stop this before it went too far.

But you didn’t waver. You had been through so much, had faced so many demons from your past, and now, standing here with him, you felt a sense of clarity you hadn’t in a long time. You wanted this, wanted him - wanted to break down the walls you had built so carefully around your heart.

Slowly, you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a shiver running through his body. You could feel his resistance, the way he fought to hold himself back, but there was also something in the way he leaned into your touch, a silent plea for more.

Your lips traveled from his temple to his ear, brushing against the sensitive skin as you whispered, “I know you try to hold yourself back for my sake. But I’m not scared, Joongie. Not anymore.”

Hongjoong’s eyes were locked on yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. Without breaking eye contact, he stood, water cascading off his naked, sculpted body, droplets glistening on his skin in the soft, dim light of the room. 

Before you could say anything, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly from where you stood. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you close, his wet skin soaking through your clothes as he carried you out the room. 

He reached the bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin. You looked up at him, your heart racing as he knelt beside you, droplets of water still clinging to his skin, his hair damp and falling into his eyes. He was completely bare, his body on full display, and yet his focus was entirely on you.

Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, passionate kiss. His hand slid up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours, fighting your own in a battle of dominance you quickly lost.

Hongjoong’s hand moved under your gown, and with a gentle tug, he began to lift it, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he pulled it over your head. The cool air hit your newly exposed skin, making you shiver, but the heat of his gaze warmed you instantly. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his eyes so full of love and lust it made you ache.

“You’re so, so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. He leaned in again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving soft, lingering kisses as he made his way to your collarbone. Each kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt him explore your body with his lips, his hands, his entire being.

He moved lower, his hands sliding over your skin, slowly. You shivered under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

His hands moved delicately, tracing the lines of your body, exploring every curve, every dip, every inch of your skin. He was in no rush, savoring it all; every moment, every touch, every breath you took. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, it was as if he was worshiping you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, his voice shaky, filled with emotion. “I want this to be perfect for you… for us.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes meeting his with a soft, reassuring smile. “It already is,” you murmured, your voice filled with the same emotion you saw reflected in his eyes. “You make everything perfect for me, Joongie.”

He smiled, a tender, almost shy smile that made your heart flutter. “I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I know,” you whispered back, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “I’ve wanted this too… I’ve wanted you.”

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more intense. “I’m scared… of hurting you,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “Of moving too fast.”

You shook your head gently, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You could never hurt me,” you assured him softly. “I trust you, Hongjoong. I’m ready… because I know these hands of yours could never hurt me like he did.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. When he opened them again, they were filled with an intensity that took your breath away. “I want to love you… properly, Y/N.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and adoration for the man above you. “Then love me, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Love me the way you’ve always wanted to. Make me yours.”

He chuckled, before slowly lowering himself into you. “Silly woman. You've been mine the moment I met you.”

If anyone would've told you you'd ever see your parents on their knees, begging for mercy in front of you, you would've laughed right in their face.

But here you were. Witnessing it at this very moment.

Well, technically it wasn't in front of you - but the Queen, who was looking at them with intense, cold eyes.

You stood to the side, Hongjoong right beside you, close enough to witness every detail, yet far enough to keep the emotional distance you needed to not break down in tears.

The Queen's voice cut through the silence. “You have been called before the court to deliver your testimony. If you lie, it will have severe consequences,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We have gathered here today because a man was killed. Without any evidence or witness testimony, it was decided that Kim Hongjoong was the one responsible and would be hanged for it. Now, after careful investigation, I and everyone else here is fairly confident that this is not what happened. The man who died abused his wife L/N Y/N for close to a decade. And everyone supposedly knew. On the night of the alleged crime, it is to be assumed he came home to beat her once again. Kim Hongjoong was just there at the wrong time. Y/N had to kill her husband in self defense to protect the both of them,” the Queen continued. 

The whole room was deadly silent. Only the occasional sobs of your mother could be heard.

“Now I ask of you to truthfully answer my questions”, she said, looking at your parents directly, “is it true that you knew your daughter was getting abused?”

The silence that followed the Queen's question was suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Your father kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands trembling slightly as he knelt beside your mother. 

You remembered the last time you saw him. The moment where he apologized, where you saw the pain in his eyes. But would he also admit to his faults in public?

The Queen's eyes bore into them. She was not just asking for a simple answer; she was demanding the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And there was no escaping it.

Your father was the first to speak, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and strained. “We… we knew,” he confessed, the words stumbling out of him like a boulder finally giving way to gravity. “We knew what was happening, Your Majesty.”

A collective gasp rippled through the courtroom, but you remained still, your heart pounding in your chest as the truth you had been denied for so long was finally laid bare. Your mother’s sobs grew louder, her hands covering her face as if to shield herself from the reality of what was happening.

The Queen’s gaze did not waver. “And yet, you did nothing to help her?” she pressed, her tone hardening. “You allowed your daughter to suffer for years, without lifting a finger to protect her? Knowing that one day she could possibly be killed?”

Your mother finally lifted her head, her face streaked with tears. “We… we were afraid,” she stammered, her voice shaking with emotion. “We didn’t know what to do… We thought… we thought it would be worse if we intervened.”

A bitter taste filled your mouth as you listened to their excuses. They had left you to fend for yourself in a nightmare, and had turned their backs on you when you needed them the most. 

Even after you tried for months, years to come to terms with their betrayal, it still hurt deeply.

The Queen narrowed her eyes, but her expression gave nothing away. “You thought it would be worse?” she repeated, “Worse than watching your daughter endure unimaginable suffering? Worse than allowing her to be beaten, night after night, while you did nothing?”

Your mother’s tears flowed uncontrollably now, her sobs wracking her body as she nodded, unable to form any coherent response. Your father remained silent, his head hanging low, as if the weight of his guilt was too much to bear.

The Queen’s gaze flicked to you for a moment, her expression softening just slightly as she took in the sight of you standing there, silent and strong beside Hongjoong. 

This wasn't the first time you saw that expression on her face, and for a second you were left wondering if, maybe, she understood your pain. Really understood.

From woman to woman, from victim to victim.

“Your Majesty,” your father spoke again, his voice hoarse with emotion. “We… we failed her. We know that now. We were wrong, and we are deeply sorry.”

For a second, his eyes found yours. And though you knew you could never forgive them, you saw nothing but love and guilt in your father's eyes.

Maybe in another life, where you as a woman would have more rights, you all could have been a happy, normal family.

Maybe.

“But… There is one last thing I want to do for my daughter,” he whispered. “Your Majesty, if I may…?”

Her gaze flicked towards you. You clutched Hongjoong’s hands tighter, before giving her a final nod.

“Go on,” she said.

Your father hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before speaking again. “I brought them here, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “The rest of the people who stayed quiet. I brought all of them here today.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between your father and you. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her decision. Your eyes widened and you immediately felt a lump form in your throat. 

Finally, the Queen nodded, “Bring them in.”

She turned towards the grand double doors at the back of the room, and with a slight motion of her hand, the guards opened them. One by one, a dozen people began to file in, their faces pale and solemn. You recognized each one of them - neighbors, former friends, even the local shopkeepers who had all turned a blind eye to your bruises and hushed cries for help. They looked as though they were walking to their own execution, eyes downcast, hands desperately clutching their clothes.

As they entered, they arranged themselves in a line before you, and then, as if guided by an unspoken command, they all began to bow. The sight of it - the people who had once ignored your pain now bowing before you, in front of the Queen herself - struck you like a blow to the heart.

You tightened your grip on Hongjoong’s hand, your breath hitching as the overwhelming weight of the moment began to settle over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and no matter how much you tried to hold them back, they eventually began to spill over, silently tracing lines down your cheeks. Hongjoong’s hand remained warm and steady in yours, his presence grounding you as you struggled to process the scene before you.

Slowly, an elderly woman who had been your neighbor for years, stepped forward. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N… we have no excuse for what we did, or rather, what we didn’t do. We failed you, just as your parents did. We saw the signs, but we chose to look away, to pretend it wasn’t our business. And for that… we are truly sorry.”

As everyone in line took their turn to speak, offering their apologies, their regrets, and their shame, the emotions you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. You wept openly now, the sound of your sobs filling the otherwise silent courtroom. These were the apologies you had never expected to hear, the recognition of your suffering that had been denied to you for so many years.

Hongjoong wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, and you leaned into him, burying your face in his neck. The tears kept coming, and you let them. 

After each person spoke to you, they all remained bowed, waiting for your response. The Queen, too, seemed to be waiting, her gaze fixed on you.

You took a shaky breath, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you tried to find the right words. But there were no words that could truly capture the enormity of what you were feeling. So instead, you simply nodded, acknowledging their apologies once and for all.

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper, your voice raw and hoarse. “Thank you for saying what I needed to hear… even if it’s too late.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd, but the weight of the moment still pressed down heavily on you. The Queen stepped forward, her presence immediately commanding everyone's attention. “You have all acknowledged your failings here today,” she said, “A man has died, and even if Y/N pulled the trigger, everyone here knows that at the end of the day, she remains an innocent woman. A woman who had to save herself because no one else did.”

As her final words settled over the courtroom, you felt a deep, heavy relief wash over you. The people who had failed you had spoken their apologies, and though it could never erase the pain you endured, the recognition of your suffering soothed your wounded soul.

Hongjoong kept a protective arm around you as you walked outside. The air outside the courtroom was crisp, the world feeling both too small and too vast after what had just happened. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, when you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned just in time to see your sister Miyeon rushing towards you, tears already streaming down her face. Her belly was still slightly rounded from her recent pregnancy, and in her arms, she cradled her newborn, your tiny niece or nephew, who was bundled up warmly against her chest.

Miyeon threw her arms around you, careful not to hurt her child, pulling you into a tight embrace as she sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs, her voice filled with guilt and anguish. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know everything that was happening. If I had known, I would have been there for you. I should have been there for you!”

You held her tightly, your own tears spilling over once more as you buried your face in her shoulder. “Miyeon, it’s okay,” you whispered, even as your voice trembled. “I know you would’ve helped me if you could. You were far away, and you had no idea. You were also preparing to be a mother… I never wanted to burden you with my pain.”

“But you’re my sister,” she cried, pulling back to look at you with red, puffy eyes. “I should have been here. I should have done something, anything, to protect you. How could I have let this happen to you?”

You shook your head. “You couldn’t have known, Miyeon. None of this was your fault. I don’t blame you, not even for a second.”

Before you could respond, her husband, Gikwang, who had been standing a few steps behind her, joined the two of you. His expression was filled with compassion and guilt as he handed you a small, trembling bundle. “We… we brought something for you,” he said gently. “One of Hongjoong’s neighbors found him in his house and thought you’d want him back.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he placed the tiny, trembling creature in your arms.

“Benji!” you cried out.

The moment he was in your arms, the dam you had been holding back broke entirely. You clutched him to you, your sobs echoing through the quiet corridor as you cried even harder than you just moments before.

Hongjoong stood beside you, his hand on your back, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he watched you cradle Benji. Miyeon wrapped her arms around both you and Benji, and for a long, long while, you simply stood there, the three of you wrapped in a comforting embrace. As you finally pulled back, wiping your tears away, you looked at Miyeon and Hongjoong, then down at Benji, who was now purring softly in your arms, and also at Gikwang and their newborn child.

With a trembling but genuine smile, you whispered, "Thank you, Miyeon. Thank you for being here. And thank you for bringing him back to me."

Miyeon nodded, her own smile breaking through her tears. "I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what. You and I will keep in contact, right? You'll come visit me and I'll visit you, right? And… and you and Hongjoong will be happy together, right?”

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you gave Miyeon a firm nod. “Yes,” you replied, your voice steady for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “We will keep in contact. I’ll visit you, and you can come visit us. And yes… Hongjoong and I will be happy together. We’ll find a way to move forward.”

Miyeon smiled through her tears, her grip on her newborn tightening slightly as she nodded back. “Good,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “That’s all I want for you, Y/N. To be happy. You deserve that more than anything.”

Gikwang placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. “You’re strong, Y/N,” he said softly. “And even if your parents and Jisoo aren't included, you have us that care about you, no matter how far apart we may be.”

You took a long, deep breath before looking down at Benji, who was still purring contentedly in your arms, then up at Hongjoong, who met your gaze with a look of unwavering support and love.

“Let’s go,” Hongjoong murmured, his hand gently squeezing yours. “It’s time to head home.”

You nodded. Turning back to your sister, you reached out and gave her one last, lingering hug. “I’ll see you soon,” you promised, “until then, take care. And also of your bab-”

“Jihoon. His name is Jihoon,” she whispered, carefully cradling the baby in her arms.

You smiled warmly at her and her child. “Take care of Jihoon too, okay?”

With that, you and Hongjoong turned and began to walk away, Benji still cradled safely in your arms. 

“Hey, Joongie?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you think Django is doing well?

He laughed. “Oh, I know he is. That damn goat is probably terrorizing the whole town by now.”

My Dearest Husband,

I hope this letter finds you well and you are not too weary from your travels. Though I'm proud the Queen has once again asked for one of your dresses, the house feels a little quieter without you here, though Miyeon, Gikwang, and little Jihoon are doing their best to fill the void. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s grown since you last saw him – he’s already running around like he owns the place. God, I’ve had to take more breaks than usual chasing after him. I’m sure you can guess why.

Miyeon has been a great help, though, and Gikwang even managed to fix the squeaky gate that’s been bothering you for months. We spent yesterday walking along the shore, Jihoon squealing with delight every time the waves came in. It made me think of how much you would’ve enjoyed the sight with him together. The sea is as beautiful as ever, though not nearly as beautiful as it is when I get to share it with you.

Oh, our little shop is thriving more than I could’ve imagined. Your teachings on sewing have paid off wonderfully, and the people can’t seem to get enough of the dresses I make. I'm so honored, though I still try and convince them yours are so much better. They keep saying how elegant the stitching is and how there’s something special about each piece. I always smile and tell them it’s because they were made with love – a love you taught me with every thread and needle. Though I do admit, I’ve had to slow down a bit these days. The shop misses you, too, but it’s running smoothly, and I can’t wait for you to see how well it's been going. 

I know you were worried about leaving me alone, but honestly, my love, you overthink too much. I think you forget sometimes just how capable I am. I may be waddling more than walking at this point, but I can still manage just fine, especially with Miyeon here to keep an eye on me. But I can’t help but smile when I think about how you’re already fretting over our little one, even before she’s born. You and your little princess – I can just see it now, the way you’ll spoil her rotten with all those tiny dresses you’ve been making. If she’s anything like her father, she’ll be quite the charmer, and I can’t wait to see you two together, hand in hand, as you show her the world.

She’s been kicking more these past few days, and it hurts like crazy. I can't wait to finally meet her. I’m already dreaming of the day when we’ll finally get to meet her. I know you’re just as eager as I am – I can see it in the way you smile whenever you talk about her. Our little princess. I think she knows, too, because she always seems to calm down when I think about you.

So, my love, don’t worry too much about us. We’re safe, happy, and counting down the days until you’re back home. The sea is waiting, the shop is thriving, and most importantly, your little family is here, eagerly anticipating your return. I’ll keep everything running smoothly until you’re back – though I must admit, I’m looking forward to resting when our little one decides it’s time to make her grand entrance.

Take care of yourself, and don’t let business keep you away for too long. We miss you dearly.

With all my love,

Your Wife

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Consequences

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 15.1k

Summary: Wanda is excited to get to meet your parents for the first time and she wants to make the best impression, but you won’t make it easy for her, teasing her the entire time and she finds the perfect way to punish you. 

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, oral, oral to a strap, spanking, fingering, magic use, magical restraints, finger sucking, strap on sex, enchanted strap, use of butt plug, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader OMG, I’m so excited about this fic! Masterlist with all my works.          Part 2: Face the consequences

Late on a Friday night, you watched your girlfriend pace around your shared bedroom. This was the third time she was going over the list she had made, reading out loud each item and checking if everything was packed and ready for your trip. You both knew it was, but Wanda wanted to make sure. She was nervous about meeting your parents and she was compensating in any way she could. You had told your parents about Wanda fairly soon into your relationship. You came out to them after college and even though they had different expectations back then, they were supportive. Sensitive of their feelings, you were reluctant to talk about your partners, but when you met Wanda, you couldn’t stop talking about her. Which is why 6 months into the relationship, they insisted they meet her. She was happy, of course, to know that you felt so strongly about her, that you were proud to be her girlfriend, that you showed her off to your friends as much as she did with you. It was new to her. It was usually her, who would show off her girl any chance she got, her who would tell people over and over how great they were. But you had done the same from the very beginning and it made her love you even more. Now, when she was about to meet your parents soon, she wanted to live up to the high standard you had set with the amazing things you said about her and you couldn’t watch her torture herself anymore. You walked over to her, wrapping your arms around her softly in an attempt to calm her nerves. “We have everything, Wanda, you know we do.” You said softly, watching her turn around in your hands, so she could face you. “Just come to bed?” You offered, taking her hand in hers and tugging on it gently. Wanda managed a genuine smile, making you hopeful and you sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her between your open thighs. “Wouldn’t you prefer to play with me instead?” You teased, hoping to entice her. “Oh, my poor girl.” She cooed, smoothing your hair gently. “I haven’t touched you all day and you’re feeling all needy, aren’t you?” She smirked, leaning down to kiss you softly. “Does your pretty pussy need Mommy?” She asks, voice sweet and full of promises. “Yes, Mommy, I need you.” You breathe out, your eyes closing on their own just at the thought of being touched, of getting to let go and relax. “My sweet girl.” She smiled, holding your chin up with her fingers and leaning down to kiss you. You almost held your breath, waiting for the moment her lips would touch yours, but that moment never came. Instead, you heard her exclaim “Pyjamas!”, pulling away from you before you could even protest and she started to look through the closet. You could only groan, frustration evident on your face as you watched her. You knew that when she got like this, there was nothing that would truly distract her, which was a shame, because you genuinely hoped that she would join you in bed and touch you, the way you’d been dreaming of all day. “Get into bed, honey.” She said, pausing to look over at you with affection. “I’ll join you soon.” She promised, before she resumed her previous actions. “Promise?” “Yes, dear, I promise.” She sighed, coming over to kiss you briefly, tucking you in and smiling as you closed your eyes. You followed her movements throughout the house for a few minutes, your ears attuned to her and her habits, feeling sleepy and tired, until eventually you drifted off. You felt her settle into bed next to you at some point, turning over so you could cuddle her, her head pressing to your chest, so she could let the steady rhythm of your heartbeat calm her and you wrapped your arms around her securely, kissing her forehead affectionately, but you were too tired and sleepy to ask what time it was. You were afraid that she had spent too much time worrying, but she was with you now and that’s all you wanted. You knew why she was concerned. You talked about it in length, when your parents first invited the two of you. You knew this was the first time she was ever meeting one of her partners’ parents, that she was scared that if they dislike her, it would change your relationship, that they would think she’s not good enough for you. And you knew they were all valid things to be worried about, normal, mundane things… Things that would pale to the reaction your parents would have if they ever found out that your girlfriend is a witch… And you tried your best to reassure her, to support her and answer all her questions about your family, in hopes to help her feel more at ease. You also knew that when she got like this, she didn’t sleep much. That she’ll wake up way too early and worry herself into a frenzy, waking you up and rushing you through the door, so you could get there as quickly as possible, because God forbid that your parents think that you might sleep in a little on a Saturday. Just as you had predicted, when the alarm on your nightstand got off, Wanda was already up, two cups of steaming coffee were waiting for you and she was looking at the traffic reports and different routes she could take on her phone. She was buzzing with excitement, you could see it and you didn’t want to add to her frustration, so despite the early hour and the voice inside your head that told you that you wanted to cuddle her and drink your coffee in bed, you got up and got ready in record time, all the while trying to calm her nerves. “Are you sure this outfit is ok? I don’t want to come off as flashy.” She asked, playing with her rings. “It’s perfect, Wanda. And so are you.” You assured her, kissing her cheek gently. “You could benefit from a longer skirt.” She muttered, eyeing your choice. She loved you in this and had seen you in it before, but it was for a date. She thought that for your parents, perhaps something less revealing would be a better choice. “My parents don’t care about that, Wands. It’s ok.” You smiled, pulling her into a hug. “Please don’t let this get to you. You have faced so many things, you’re so strong, baby… You’re the Scarlet Witch! You’re an Avenger! Meeting my parents should be a piece of cake.” “Except I can’t fight your parents, if things don’t go well.” She frowned, taking a deep breath to steady herself and you couldn’t help but chuckle a little at her statement. “If all else fails, try that.” You joked. “Just know that my mom looks fragile, but she’s freakishly strong and she fights dirty.” And you smiled, when you saw Wanda chuckle a little at your statement. “I’ll keep it in mind.” She muttered, leaning down to kiss you. “I just hope we haven’t missed anything.” She commented. “I’m sure that if we did, you can just magic it for us.” You insisted, holding on to her. “You have a solution for everything, don’t you.” She teased, her eyes drifting to your lips. “Yup. I’m a problem-solver.” You teased her back, leaning in a little, daring her to kiss you. “And the solution is always you. You make everything better.” You added, the words true and soft. At that, she couldn’t help but kiss you, her palms cradling your face affectionately as she kissed you gently, but fully, claiming your mouth and causing a surge of excitement to pass through your body. She didn’t miss the way you shuddered against her needily, she knew you were feeling that way since last night and she smirked, making a mental note to take care of that as soon as the two of you got back. Not that she didn’t want to ravish you right this second, but you didn’t have time and she was not going to risk your parents’ good favour by fucking you senseless and making you scream right under their roof. “We should get going, sweetheart.” She whispered, when the two of you parted and her resolve almost broke when she heard you mewl for her. “I promise to take such good care of you as soon as we get back, baby girl. I’ll give you everything you want, kitten, no holding back. You just have to be a little more patient.” “When we get back?” You reflected, thinking of all the time you’ll have to spend without her touch. “No, no, no, please Wands, that’s too long! Please don’t make me wait that long.” “It’s just a couple of nights, honey. We can make it.” She insisted. She didn’t want to be deprived of your touch either, but she wasn’t going to let her desire for you ruin her chance to win your parents, so she strengthened her resolve. She knew she would need a lot of it, since she hadn’t needed to hold back since before your first night together. After that amazing time, when she finally made you her own, your relationship developed quickly and she took advantage of every opportunity to ravage you, making this stay with your parents the longest dry spell the two of you have had to face. With a deep sigh you let her pull away from you and she smiled a little at the dramatic way you were taking it all. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad. But she pushed the thought from her mind, taking most of your bags, allowing you to carry just some small, light things to the car and she loaded it all in. On the road she let you play whatever music you wanted, but the two of you mostly talked, the time passing quickly. Whenever she didn’t keep you occupied, she would see your eyes wander at the scenery around you and she would have thought you looked serene if it wasn’t for the subtle, but unmistakable way you would squeeze your legs together and she was tempted to see what you were thinking of, but since she was driving, she didn’t want to accidentally crash her car, due to the images she might find, settling for occupying your time and mind instead. When you arrived, car parked in your parents’ driveway, Wanda started to fidget. She turned to you, her green eyes full of worry and you took her hand in yours. You were going to start reassuring her, wanting to help her feel more at ease, but as soon as your mouth opened, so did your house’ front door and your parents stepped outside, smiling faces taking you both in. “I love you, Wanda.” You squeezed her hand in yours, as it was the best you could do in the short time you had, seeing your mom and dad starting to walk towards you. “It’s going to be ok.” You promised and she nodded, steeling her nerves and gathering all her composure, so she would look friendly and kind. The moment you stepped out of the car, meeting your parents in the middle of the driveway, they started to hug you, your mom reaching you first and hugging you warmly. Your dad, more reserved as he was, stayed at your mother’s side, smiling and following Wanda’s movements as she stepped closer to the 3 of you. You hugged him next, his arms wrapping around you entirely and pulling you close. Unlike your mom, he said nothing, as sharing his feelings wasn’t his way, but you knew it warmed his heart to have you back. “Mom, dad, I would like you both to meet my girlfriend Wanda.” You announced when she was finally next to you and you watched them greet each other, watching the interaction closely. Both your parents offered their hands to her, introducing themselves with a smile and they barely waited for the pleasantries to be over, before they beckoned you inside. You watched your dad help Wanda with the luggage, as neither one would allow you to help, and you saw the subtle smile on his face grow, liking her already. And it wasn’t because Wanda carried your bags. He knew you were a capable girl and that you didn’t need someone to do it for you. He just liked that Wanda was the type of woman who gave you a glance and said “We’ve got it” and you listened without protest. Something he'd never seen you do in your life.   By the time the two of you settled it was already lunch and the two of you joined your parents around the neatly set table. Your mother had asked you in advance about what Wanda liked and if she was allergic to anything, preparing different menus for the days you’d spend together and she proudly started to bring out food from the kitchen, refusing any offers of help from you or Wanda. During the meal your parents got to know Wanda a little better, the conversation flowing smoothly and as her curiosity piqued, she started listening in on their thoughts. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help it. She was scared that they’ll hate her. But as much as it shocked her, they didn’t. In fact they loved her. She spoke equally well with both of them. She spoke about cooking, fashion and art with your mom and politics, house maintenance, travel and gardening with your dad. Because truly, your parents’ beautiful garden was all his doing. Something Wanda was well aware of, of course. And the more she won them over, the more she enjoyed being here with them. Your mother saw the vulnerability in her, saw how gentle and caring she was towards you, saw the affection and adoration in her eyes every time she looked at you. Your mother could tell Wanda was good for you. You seemed happy, radiant even. She saw the pride in your eyes when you looked at your girlfriend, saw the love, saw your newfound spark for life there and she was overjoyed. She saw the way Wanda encouraged your interests and hobbies and she was glad that you had found someone like her as a partner. Your father liked Wanda too. He, the way men do, noticed the strength in her, saw the way she walked confidently, with her shoulders squared and her head high, saw she was considerate of you, protective of you, the way he had once hoped a man would. Knowing you loved women, he was accepting, and of all the women, he was happy that you had picked Wanda Maximoff. More than that, he could tell you respected her. The way you hadn’t showed respect towards any other partner you’ve had and, in his eyes, if Wanda was worthy of your respect, then she certainly was the right kind of woman for you. “They love you.” You told her, when you got a moment alone with her. “I swear they love you more than they love me.” “You know that’s not true, baby.” Wanda smiled, stroking your hair. “They just like me for you.” “Oh, I’m not saying that as a bad thing.” You laughed. “It’s good that they love you.’’ You said, leaning in to kiss her gently, but getting immediately pushed away, when Wanda heard your parents walking back in. Wanda was a modern, progressive woman by all accounts, she knew about all the new trends and she could blend in anywhere and talk freely with anyone, she rarely cared about what others might think of her and she was never ashamed to show the world you were hers. She kissed you passionately when she wanted to, held your hand in public proudly, kept you close, but when it came to this, she was old-fashioned to the core. She wasn’t going to kiss you in front of your mom and dad, she was not going to have sex with you in their house and she was not going to let you try to tempt her. Seeing the disappointment in your eyes, she squeezed your hand in a silent apology, hating that she had to pull away from your lips. Despite what you might have thought, she already missed your lips and couldn’t wait to claim them all over again. “Girls.” Your mom spoke with a cheerful tone. “We’ll have to leave you two for a bit. We have some errands to run, but we’ll be back before dinner.” She explained and you inwardly cheered at the prospect of being left alone with Wanda. “If you want, the two of you can go out.” She suggested, turning to Wanda. “It’s so nice outside right now and Y/N can show you the town.” She offered. “Oh, that would be lovely.” Wanda agreed, before you had a chance to utter a word. You were actually seconds away from saying you’d rest instead, but her eagerness was so charming that you couldn’t resist. “We should.” Wanda turned to you too. “I want to know where you grew up.” “That’s so wonderful.” Your mom exclaimed. “Wanda, dear, after dinner I’ll show you all my albums with pictures of Y/N, too.” She promised and you had to hold in your groan. “You don’t need to do that, mom.” You tried to protest. “Yeah, I’m sure she doesn’t want to see all that.” Your dad chimed in, coming to your rescue. “I would love to see them.” Wanda spoke, her voice soft and sweet. She wasn’t going to let you deprive her of this, no matter how embarrassed you were. “It’s settled then.” Your mom agreed, looping her hand through your father’s arm and pulling him out of the room. “Have fun, girls!” She spoke over her shoulder and you could practically hear the smile she was wearing. “Don’t give me that look, detka.” Wanda smiled mischievously. “You can’t tell me you didn’t expect that.” “Expected it? Yes. But I still hoped to avoid it.” You muttered. “No way, dear. That would be too good to miss.” “I can’t believe you’d do that to me.” You protested again, but you were already smiling. You couldn’t deny Wanda anything. In the background you could hear your parents closing their front door, leaving you alone and an idea sparkled in your head. “I know… The torture!” She smiled, fake pity lacing in her voice. “Yeah… But you can make it up to me.” You offered, your voice dropping. You stood up from your chair and straddled her, your arms circling her neck, while you allowed your skirt to ride up your thighs, so Wanda could see the pair of pretty pink panties you had on. “And how would I do that?” She asked, lust slowly taking over her brain and you knew you almost had her. You leaned in to kiss her, eyes fluttering shut as your hips instinctively dragged themselves over her lap, searching for friction against your needy pussy, when suddenly you stiffened, startled by the sound of the front door flinging open again and your mother’s distant voice explaining to your dad that she’ll just grab whatever it is she forgot and they’ll be on their way and his grumbling response, before they left again. The two of you laughed, as if you were teenagers, seconds away from being caught doing something forbidden and with reluctance, you got yourself up, the moment ruined. “I’m sorry, darling.” Wanda soothed, helping you get off her lap and the two of you headed to the door. Wanda had a love for small towns that you couldn’t quite understand, but you showed her the place where you used to play as a kid, your old school, the café you loved going to with your friends and she listened to you with so much genuine interest as you told her about your memories that you felt blessed to have her as your partner. She insisted to see where you had your first kiss and the spot you liked for picnics, immersing herself in your life. You knew her life was much different than yours, that she never had those things, that she had faced a hard life and at first you were reluctant you talk about your experiences, about what you knew to be privilege, but she soon assured you that it didn’t hurt her to hear those things. She wanted to know everything about you. She wasn’t resentful that you had an easier life, she was happy that she was building a normal, good one alongside you. The two of you ended up on a bench in the park, talking about what you wanted in life, what your hopes and dreams for the future looked like and you both felt a sense of belonging with the other. You had talked about these things before, of course, shared ideas and aspirations, but now it felt more intimate and the two of you relaxed against each other, only leaving when it started to get dark. When you walked back into your parents’ house, they were already talking animatedly in the living room, greeting you both with wide smiles. “Did you have a nice walk?” Your mother asked, seating you on the couch. “What do you think of our little town Wanda?” “It’s lovely.” Your girlfriend smiled, taking her seat. You sat next to her, her hand on your thigh, smiling as the conversation around you started to flow effortlessly. Your parents directed most of the conversation on Wanda, naturally curious about her and somehow your thoughts managed to drift away on their own, until your name being called snapped you to attention. “What?” You blinked away your thoughts, focusing on your mother’s expecting gaze. “Sorry, I got distracted for a moment.” And distracted you were. She had put her hand on your thigh mindlessly, not really meaning anything more than that, but it had awoken something inside you. You remembered all the other times Wanda would touch you this way. On car rides and movie nights, in the dark movie theatre… All the times she teased you this way, made you needy, made you desperate for her touch. And desperate you were. You were going a little crazy at how badly you needed her and you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together as you tried to shake away the thought. “That’s all right, dear.” Your mother laughed. “I just asked if you could help me in the kitchen.” “Yes.” You managed a smile, getting up from your spot, feeling wetness smear across your underwear. This couldn’t do. You needed some sort of relief, or you were going to explode. “Would you excuse me for just a moment and I’ll join you in the kitchen?” You asked discretely. “Of course.” Your mom smiled, heading towards the kitchen, while you went upstairs and locked yourself in the bathroom. You leaned against the door, sighing, your mind split between wanting relief and thinking that you shouldn’t be doing this right now. Just a little patience. That’s what Wanda had said when you left your house this morning. But your body said something different. Just the thought of being kissed by her, of being touched and fucked by her was making your pussy throb and protest against the emptiness you felt. You needed to cum or you were going to go crazy. Your mind settling on a decision, you let your hand sneak under your skirt and inside your underwear, finding copious amounts of wetness there. Not really having much time to tease yourself, you used one hand to circle your clit, while the fingers of the other found your entrance and you pushed inside, pulling a deep sigh from you. It didn’t feel as good as Wanda’s touch, it didn’t even come close, but then again nothing felt as good as her anymore, but it was something and you started to work yourself up. Your mind filled with images of Wanda, of what she’ll do to you, of the little fantasies you’ve had with her that you felt too shy to share, loosing yourself in the moment entirely, until a knock on the door startled you back into reality. “Y/N, honey, are you all right?” Your mother’s voice called out and your heartbeat quickened. “Yeah, I’m ok. I’ll be right out.” You responded, your voice less stable than you hoped. “Ok, dear, I’ll be in the kitchen.” She explained and you heard her footsteps as she descended the stairs again. As soon as she left, you let out a shaky breath, feeling even more wound up. You were close. You needed a couple more minutes and you were going to cum and the thought of that frustrated you more. You needed this and you were so close, so with a shaky hand, you reached beneath your skirt once more, determined to get this done as quickly as possible. You got close, your breathing ragged as you tried to keep yourself as quiet as possible. The edge came next, not as good as you hoped for, but something and you needed a few more seconds to finally come, when another knock on the door startled you. This time you were listening closely, yet you heard no sound and that brought an icy feeling in your veins that the only person who could sneak this well is Wanda. “Darling, can you open the door for me?” She asked calmly, but you could hear the edge in her voice. “I’m just washing my hands and coming out, Wands.” You called out, wanting to buy yourself some time to calm down. Your answer however did not seem to satisfy her and you heard the click of the lock, no doubt using her magic and the door opened slowly, your girlfriend walking in. You had made yourself presentable as much as you could, but you knew she could read you like a book, no doubt guessing what you were doing. And it wasn’t hard. Your hands shook, the look in your eyes one of guilt and desperation. “Honey, what were you doing?” She asked softly, stalking towards you like a predator. “Nothing, I just needed a moment.” You tried to say, but had no real excuse. “Don’t lie to me.” Wanda captured you in her arms, pulling you close to her. Her voice was like a growl, her eyes stormy as she stared at you. “You have such loud thoughts, little kitten.” She said, the danger in her voice unmistakable. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” “No, I…” You tried to say, not really sure where this sentence was going to go anyway. “I could hear you all the way downstairs, baby. You have such pretty thoughts in your head when you think of me. So naughty.” She cut you off, trapping you between her body and the cold tiles. Wanda took your hands in hers gently, lovingly, pulling them up and bringing her face close to your fingers. “I can smell your sweet pussy on your fingers.” She said darkly. “Are you going to deny that as well?” “Wanda, I was just…” You tried to explain, knowing there was nothing you could say. “Don’t you dare…” She growled in your face, coming even closer, if that was even possible, every inch of your body pressed against hers. “Mommy will punish you for that when we get home.” She said through her teeth. “I hope that edge was worth it.” With those words she let you go, walking away from you before you could protest. “Don’t take too long.” She called out over her shoulder, before she left you alone in the bathroom. You sighed, feeling more worked up than before, knowing she won’t let you finish, now that she’d caught you and already making your mom wait in the kitchen. Truly, this was a disaster, but you pulled yourself together. You took off your ruined panties, knowing they would be more uncomfortable and you put them in the basket with the rest of the dirty laundry. You tried to dry off as much as you could, then washed your hands and walked downstairs. Helping your mother in the kitchen was a good distraction, keeping you busy and your mind away from inappropriate thoughts of Wanda. It mostly worked, or at least you didn’t feel that terrible need between your legs every second while you loaded the dishwasher, or set the table. It was working until Wanda walked in, wanting to ask if the two of you needed any help. Her presence instantly brought to mind the earlier events and with them, the terrible need between your legs, making you squeeze them together in desperation. Truly, it wasn’t fair that she could turn you into a mess with nothing but her presence, but knowing there was nothing you could do about it currently, you tried your best to ignore it, hoping the woman would leave. Unfortunately, your mother left first, leaving you alone with Wanda and an idea instantly popped into your head. You knew you shouldn’t do it. You knew that an angry Wanda was a force to be reconned with and you were already on thin ice with her from earlier, but you couldn’t help yourself. You wanted her so badly. You needed her. And if she was going to make you wait, then you were going to make it hard for her too. If she was going to punish you, and she was, there was no doubt in your mind about that, then you would enjoy earning it.   “What can I do?” She asked, stepping closer. “Oh, no, I’m almost done.” You said with a smile. “I just need to grab something.” You explained, leaning over the counter. Your movements were exaggerated, you knew that. You were practically bent over the counter, allowing your skirt to ride up your thighs and move even higher, revealing you wore nothing underneath. You didn’t dare look back at Wanda, but you could feel her eyes on you, drinking you in and you loved it. You knew she absolutely adored having you this way, recalling countless times she’s bent you over, so she could fill you up with her cock. Whenever you had your ass in the air, she would go a little feral, she’d fuck you a little harder and God, did you need that kind of treatment right now. When Wanda saw you, her hands balled into fists and despite her enviable self-control, she started to walk towards you. Knowing that you don’t have the time you needed for the game you started, you straightened just in time to hear your mom walking in as well. Both women stared at you, your mom with her unsuspecting kindness coming to help and your girlfriend, with her jaw clenched at your little display and you gave them a smile as you headed to the dining room, Wanda close behind you and burning holes through your clothes. To her credit, your girlfriend managed to look calm and composed and she plastered a kind smile on her face and she sat down next to you on one side of the table with your parents on the other. You engaged in a conversation quickly, your transgression seemingly forgiven by Wanda, and perhaps you should have left it that way, knowing that the woman had very little tolerance for bratty behaviour, but there was a twisted part of you that loved pulling that out of her. You loved riling her up, not caring for the punishment you’ll receive. And you knew you’ll get exactly what you deserve. But that excited you too.  You loved that Wanda could be so tender, so caring, so sweet, that she would make love to you as if you’re made of glass and pamper you like a princess and you loved when she got rough too, when she held you down and left marks and fucked you senseless, overstimulating you and using you to get off, leaving you a total mess, just so she would take care of you after, even softer and more loving than before. Both equally tempting in your mind. With these thoughts still lingering, you sneaked one of your hands under the table and straight on Wanda’s thigh, your face betraying nothing of what you were doing. You felt her stiffen under you, but to her credit, she remained calm and composed and you took that as a challenge, your fingers drawing circles, until she tried to jerk her leg away from you. Wanda tried to give you a warning glare, her actions subtle, but you ignored her. You were having way more fun than you expected, so your hand soon found her leg again, this time sliding further up, until she was forced to squeeze her legs together, so she could prevent you from cupping her pussy, as you seemingly intended. “Trying to get yourself in more trouble, huh?” You heard Wanda’s voice in your head. She sounded on edge, clearly affected, if she resorted to using her telepathic abilities and you only allowed yourself to smile mildly, while you pretended to listen to your parents. Ignoring her warning you kept going, your hand gliding down the length of her legs, before moving back up, fingers dancing on the insides of her thighs. You getting to rile Wanda up for a change was even more fun than you thought it would be and you mentally committed to the action, even if you knew she’ll make you regret it soon enough. “This is your last warning, baby girl.” You heard her voice in your head again. This time lower, laced with a dangerous note of excitement at the prospect of getting to put you back in your place. “If you stop right now, I’ll even consider being lenient with you.” She promised, although you both knew it was unlikely. For a few moments you considered, but really, it was your father’s voice, pulling you from your thoughts, that made you take your hand and place it back on the table. “What do you say we watch a movie after dinner? I hear Wanda enjoys movies and there’s this new comedy that your mother and I have been meaning to watch.’’ He suggested, looking at the both of you. “That sounds great, dad.” You said with a smile. “It would be lovely.” Wanda agreed and she placed a hand on top of yours, lacing your fingers together as a silent thank you, her features softening. When the meal was finished you helped your mother clear the table and clean up in the kitchen, while your dad insisted Wanda help him set up the movie. You heard him offer her a glass of whiskey as he poured himself one and you couldn’t help but smile at how naturally he seemed to accept her and welcome her. It was his way with you and your friends ever since you were old enough to drink. He never discriminated and actually taught you to drink without grimacing, enjoying to share an occasional glass with you whenever you were home, knowing that you only drank with him. You knew however that Wanda would refuse and he accepted it with a nod of his head as she sat in the big arm chair that he referred to as “his chair” ever since your family owned it, placing his glass on the small table next to it and engaging Wanda in a light conversation as they waited for you and your mom to join them. He had intended to give the woman a speech, tell her that you were one of the most important people in his life and that he does not wish to see you hurt, but he seemed to refrain from it and curiously, Wanda tried to find in his thoughts why, only to understand that it was solely because he seemed to see how much she cared about you too. A bond they shared wordlessly, while they waited. Once all four of you settled, your mom taking a seat next to your dad on another chair, so they can free up the couch for the two of you, you started the movie. It was a light comedy that had all of you laughing and commenting on the foolish actions of the characters. At some point Wanda pulled the small blanket that was placed on the couch and covered you both, allowing you to snuggle closer into her, the way you both loved and feeling the gesture your mom made to your dad, both of them sharing a smile, without saying a thing. The moment seemed peaceful, until Wanda’s hand rested against your thigh, while her eyes remained trained on the TV. She didn’t seem to mean anything by it, but it was enough to spark arousal inside you and you tried to shift uncomfortably, which only brought her hand even closer to where you needed her most, her fingertips resting against bare, smooth flesh. Thoughtlessly, recklessly, you decided to do the same, your hand finding her thigh and starting mindless circles against it, earning you a stern look of disapproval. You gave her a pointed look at her own hand, feeling your pussy twitch involuntarily and she seemed to understand, pulling her hand away to appease you, but the game was already on. The movie was entirely forgotten and you had a single thing in mind. Sex.   By the end of the movie, Wanda didn’t even need to read your thoughts to know what you were thinking of. She could hear those loud thoughts even without her magic. You were driving yourself crazy just thinking of her and you were making it impossible for her to concentrate on anything else as well. With a hard glare and her patience entirely gone, Wanda decided that she would not let you continue to behave like a brat the entire weekend and she quickly formed a plan on how to handle the situation. When the finishing credits rolled your parents excused themselves, bidding you goodnight and she knew she wouldn’t have to wait much longer. “You girls can stay and watch something else if you like.” Your mom offered. “But you know how we are, dear, we like to go to bed at a reasonable hour.” “We’ll probably go up soon, too, mom.” You smiled. “Well, goodnight then girls.” Your dad said with a tired smile, getting up from his chair and coming over to kiss the top of your head, before they both retired to their room. “What do you say Wands, wanna go to bed, or stay and watch another movie?” You asked suggestively, leaning in to kiss her cheek, but being stopped by Wanda’s firm hand on your throat. “Oh, we’re going upstairs.” She practically hissed, her eyes glowing red as they finally met yours. You tried to swallow, a task that proved difficult with a hand wrapped around your neck. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She asked, tilting her head to the side as she took you in. “Yes.” You nodded hopefully. You were practically melting just from this, eyes full of lust and arousal, mind and body surrendering entirely just from the small touch she offered, just from the prospect of being touched and although Wanda wanted to be mad at you for pulling all these stunts, she couldn’t help but feel a sort of warmth inside her, because she knew it was done, so you would get her attention, so you would get to feel her the way you did now. Because you wanted her. And she knew she shouldn’t reward such behaviour, that she should punish you. And letting you stew in your neediness would be a great way of doing that, but she couldn’t ignore that she herself felt so much desire for you. You had awakened a sleeping beast inside her and she wanted nothing more than to devour you whole and she knew the perfect way to do both. “And you think you can always get what you want from me?” She asked, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “You think that teasing me and acting up will get you what you want?” “No, I…” You try to speak, but you’re quickly cut off. “I don’t want to hear excuses from you.” She whispered dangerously. “Upstairs, now!” She practically ordered and you scurried to obey her. You walked to your room in silence, not wanting to alert your parents and Wanda walked behind you. You could feel her hard eyes on you with every step you took and you practically held your breath until you walked into your room, turning on the lights and hearing her close the door gently. You turned to face her, expecting to be met with more of her harsh words, but you saw only magic instead. She had her arms outstretched and the room glowed with her scarlet magic as it spread to every corner. When she was done, she stalked towards you, capturing you quickly and spinning your body, walking you backwords until your back hit the same door you just came in from. It gave a loud thud and you looked around, scared that the sound could probably be heard throughout the house. “Oh, don’t worry.” Wanda smiled almost cruelly. “I soundproofed this room. No one can hear what happens here.” Her grin widened as she raked her eyes over your body. “I can make you scream all night long and no one will know.” Before you could even respond, Wanda crashed her lips to yours, claiming you in a fiery kiss. When you could finally catch up, you kissed her back, arousal replacing any caution that you might have had. You felt her sure hands run a path down your shoulders, her palms smoothly passing over your chest and massaging your breasts roughly, pulling a strangled moan from your lips that she easily swallowed. She kissed you this way for a long moment, enjoying the way you squirmed, the way you gasped in utter surrender, until it wasn’t enough anymore. In a swift motion, she grabbed both ends of your shirt and pulled roughly, her strong hands tearing the buttons and sending them flying across the room. “I told you not to wear this today.” She reminded as she pulled your ruined shirt open to take a look at your breasts in their pretty pink bra. She held them in her hands, mouth watering at the thought of sucking on your nipples and making you moan, until she remembered that she was meant to be punishing you right now. With a smile she pulled your bra down, the cups folding under your breasts and leaving them exposed in an obscene way. “Get on your knees.” Wanda demanded, her hands pushing against your shoulders, until you obeyed, sinking down to your knees and looking up at her. She unbuttoned her pants with pointed slowness as she looked down to meet your eyes. “You couldn’t help yourself could you?” She asked as she undid the zipper next. “Your pussy is such a needy little thing that it couldn’t stay empty even for a night, right? It was so needy that you couldn’t listen to Mommy even for a day.” She accused, pulling her pants down her legs, exposing her underwear and the wet patch on it. She took them off too, bringing them to your eyes as her wetness glistened under the light. “And you just had to tease me, didn’t you?” She asked as she threw the ruined panties somewhere on the floor. Unsure what to say, or perhaps because some part of you knew it was better if you said nothing at all, you stayed silent for a few seconds as she stared you down and when she didn’t receive a response, magic erupted from her fingers, red tendrils curling around her and starting to take shape that you soon recognized was one of the straps the two of you owned. Magic swirled around it a bit longer and when it disappeared, Wanda watched you gulp as you took the toy in. It was in no way your biggest one, but it was sizable enough and a voice in your head told you where it was going even before Wanda spoke. “You’ve been such a cock-hungry little slut today.’’ She mused as she ran her thumb over your lips, before she pushed it in your mouth, smiling when you took it in eagerly and started to suck, your eyes closing as you savoured the moment. “Begging for it every chance you got. Well, here it is, baby.’’ She growled, taking her cock and guiding it closer to your face with a smirk. “And you better take it all down your throat, or I leave you like this!” She threatened, pulling her thumb out of your mouth and quickly replacing it with the toy. The moment her cockhead entered your mouth you both sighed. Just this caused more wetness to pool between your legs and with no barrier it started to smear across your thighs as you tried to work more of her into your mouth, until she hit the back of your throat. A small, involuntary gag, caused Wanda to moan once more and you wondered if she could feel your mouth around her, she certainly had the power to make it happen if she wanted to. So you decided to test your theory. You pulled off of her cock, until only her tip was inside and you swirled your tongue over it, before taking her back in as deep as you could. Her reaction was instantaneous, a loud moan gracing your ears, followed by one of her hands taking a few strands of your hair to steady you against her. She could definitely feel you. And you wondered if she could have always done that and why she chose to do it now for the first time. “Clever girl.” Wanda praised, realizing that you had discovered what she used her magic for and she started to move with you, building a rhythm that had her throwing her head back. “Let’s see if Mommy’s cock can erase all these thoughts from your head.” She rasped, taking hold of you with her other hand as well and driving her hips forward, until her cock hit the back of your throat again. You tried to keep your mouth open, stifling a small gag and forcing yourself to take her in a little bit deeper. The thought of being left untouched was motivation enough, but the knowledge that she could feel you, that you can please her, make her feel good, make her cum, had you desperate to take her all the way in. Wanda sensed your vigour, felt your excitement and she knew the source of it. She wasn’t even sure which one of you wanted it more at this point, her body shuddering under the immense pleasure of this new feeling she was experiencing. The feeling of your tongue gliding on the underside of her shaft and swirling over her head, your lips tightly wrapped around her as most of her shaft was encased in your wet, warm mouth was unlike any other and she had to hold back from bucking her hips and gagging you even more. And God, she was tempted. “Take a deep breath for me.” Wanda instructed, pulling back to give you a second to comprehend her words and do as you’re told. You tried to nod as much as you could, your chest heaving and your eyes watery as they looked up at Wanda. “God, you look so pretty like this, with your beautiful eyes looking up at me like that.” She admired you openly, her voice growing hoarse as everything inside her screamed to ruin you. She drove her hips forward, her movements deliberately slow and gentle and you knew a deep thrust was coming, so you did your best to keep your mouth open as you felt her drive her cock into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you want to gag, a reflex you tried to hold back as she pushed deeper, stopping an inch from the base of her strap. “Breathe, baby.” She soothed, as she repeated the action a few more times, allowing you to get used to her and the new feeling. “Keep your pretty eyes on me.” She demanded, a hand cupping your cheek. “I want you to look at me.” When Wanda knew you were ready, she pulled back a little, allowing you another deep breath, before she thrust back in, this time not stopping until she felt you take her all the way and she let a deep moan at the feeling of it. “There we go. Who knew you’re such a good little cock-sucker?” She moaned once more, holding you against her, her eyes closing in pure bliss. She could feel your throat constricting in a stifled gag, squeezing her cock deliciously and making her gasp with delight, your struggle only adding to her excitement. Cautiously, she pulled back, allowing you to breathe, taking the toy, which she progressively started to think of as her cock, out of your mouth for a moment as she looked at you, lips swollen and eyes watery, chest heaving as you admired her as much as she did you. “More, please.” You rasped, repositioning yourself, the hardwood floor unforgiving on your knees, but you didn’t care. “You want more, baby girl?” She asked as she stroked your cheek affectionately. “You want Mommy to cum down your throat?” “Yes, please!” You licked your lips subconsciously, mouth watering at the thought that she could do that. That you would taste her. “Good girl.” She praised, taking hold of her cock and guiding it back to your parted lips. “But baby?” She paused making sure she had your full attention. “If you can’t take it all the way down, Mommy will cum on your pretty tits instead and she won’t let you taste even a drop! Understood?” The threat in her voice was clear and you couldn’t believe how much your body responded, hating the prospect of wasting even a drop. You tried to nod, but you knew it wouldn’t be enough for her and you weren’t surprised when she pulled back, so she’d allow you to speak. “Yes, Mommy.” You said with a smile, lips parting as you waited for her to put her cock back in your mouth. She started to move slowly, allowing you to adjust once more as she got closer and closer. She could feel her orgasm building, impossible to ignore as you sucked her eagerly, letting her guide you the way she wanted. Each time her cock sinking deeper, until she could feel you take all of her once more. And as soon as you did, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. She pulled away, allowing you to breathe for a second. “Show me how much you want my cum.” She rasped, thrusting forward and feeling her cock twitch as she started to come. You braced yourself for it, eagerly sucking her as she stilled, not wanting to waste a single drop of her delicious cum, by letting it spill and you watched her throw her head back as her orgasm washed over her, feeling her legs shake under your palms and you reached behind her to support her better. You felt each spurt of white as she moaned in pleasure and you helped her ride it out as best you could, fighting your body as it screamed for air, screamed for you to pull away, but you refused. Not before she was done. Her pleasure was intoxicating, making your own pussy twitch with need and even more wetness to leak out and smear over your entrance and thighs. For a moment there, while Wanda came into your mouth and stood still against you, it seemed that she had calmed. That your earlier transgressions had been forgiven. Her face was serene and relaxed, while she tried to take steady breaths, but as soon as she pulled out and looked down at you, teary eyes trained on her while you tried to let your throat relax and breathe, her rage returned. She picked you up from the floor with a gentle hand, steadying you on your wobbly legs and using her magic to strip you entirely, guiding you to the bed, so she can practically throw you on it. “Get on your hands and knees.” She demands, swiftly following after you and positioning herself behind you. Before you could react, before you had a chance to even comprehend her instructions, she was pulling you up and propping you in the position she required, her impatience obvious. Her hungry eyes zeroed in on the way your back arched, on your ass, that you kept up in the air for her, on your wet pussy and the glistening evidence of your arousal and she had to smirk. You were so ripe for the taking. “Look at that…” She mused, her hands taking hold of you once more, her palms kneading your ass. “You’re all wet.” She said smugly. “Did sucking my cock get you this wet?” She asked as she spread your cheeks to take a better look at you. With your face flushed and your mind starting to melt from the prospect of being fucked, you could hardly say anything. Wanda’s filthy words making their way to your ears and making you blush even more, there was no way you could respond. Unfortunately for you, your silence only infuriated Wanda more and her hands retracted, only for her to land a harsh slap on your ass, pulling a surprised gasp from you. “I asked you a question baby girl.” She said with a stern tone, another slap landing on your other cheek. “If I have to repeat myself, I’ll have to assume that you don’t want to get fucked. Is that the case, honey?” She asked with mocking softness in her tone. “I want to get fucked, please!” You managed to say as you whined a little into the mattress. “I bet you do…” She mused as she ran a finger through your wetness, just to tease you. “You’re so wet. I’ve never seen you this wet before. Is that all from sucking my cock?” She asked once more, retracting her finger and licking it clean. “Yes, Mommy.” You responded softly, your cheeks heating up just from the thought. “Well, if you weren’t such a bad girl today, perhaps you would have gotten what you wanted right now…” She said sternly. “But you just couldn’t wait, could you?” She accused, landing another slap on your ass, watching it turn faint pink. “You had to go and touch yourself!” She growled, each hit growing harder. The skin on her palm stung from spanking you, but she ignored it, letting out her anger as she continued to list your transgressions. “Did you think that I wouldn’t find out? Or did you forget that only I’m allowed to touch that greedy little pussy?” She asked, each sentence a new slap that had you moaning into the mattress. It was the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. “Or maybe you did it to get my attention…” She mused, pausing for a second and using her fingers to tease your entrance again, gliding along your slit and touching your clit briefly, but retracting, before you had a chance to really enjoy the pleasure of it. “What will your family think, I wonder?’’ She asked, resuming her spanking. “What would they say if they saw you today? If they knew you were trying to touch me under the blanket, with them right next to us!’’ She hissed at the memory. “If they saw you wore no panties to their dinner table! That you were showing off your pussy and ass, like a common whore, when they could have walked in at any second!’’ Just the thought had her head spinning. The sound of each slap and each one of your corresponding moans spurring her on more.  “What would they say if they knew you were so hungry for my cock you couldn’t wait till we’re alone?! That you swallowed all my cum and still wanted more. That I’m spanking your ass to punish you, yet your pussy fucking leaks.’’ She continued, pointedly running her fingers through your wetness, circling your clit just to pull away again. “I bet it wants my cock so much. I left you needy this morning, huh? You had to have it that badly.” She growled, your ass turning red by the end of it. “Yes, please!” You finally responded, almost screaming, your hips trying to push into her and get some of the friction you needed. “Mommy, please!” You begged, hoping to soften her. “Next time you want my cock that badly, ask nicely!” “But I did!” You try to protest. You knew that your impatience and neediness had gotten you here, that you had earned your punishment, but you couldn’t help the way your pussy pulsed and twitched with need for her. “Don’t you dare talk back at me after all the stunts you pulled.” Wanda growls, a loud smack reaching your ears before you even felt it. It was the hardest so far and yet, so delicious you moaned. Wanda paused to admire her work, your face flushed, your pussy somehow wetter than before and your ass the perfect shade of red. If she could, she’d take a picture of you right now, so she could remember this moment forever. Satisfied, she teased your pussy once more, a single finger running through your wetness, sometimes stopping at your entrance, as if she would give you what you want and sink inside, only to pull away again. “I shouldn’t even be indulging you right now.” She told you sternly. “I should leave you like this. Teach you a lesson about patience. But if I do, you’ll just spend the night trying to touch yourself.” She said accusingly, the tip of her finger dipping in, before she pulled out again. “And we can’t have that, can we?”   “Please!” You whimpered, your voice a little broken as Wanda continued to tease you. “You’re so pretty when you beg.” Wanda complimented, allowing her finger to dip inside you again, before she retracted it. “Please, Mommy!” You squirmed, your whole body on fire. “Please, what? What should I do, when you’ve been such a bad girl, huh?” She asked as she leaned in closer, her body pressing into you, her cock grazing your thigh and her hands running over your back. “Please, fuck me!” You begged openly, whining when she pulled away from you again. There was a moment of silence between you, a moment when you could almost hear the gears in her head turning, while she was deciding if she was going to give in, or punish you further and you waited with bated breath as she took her time. Eventually her fingers returned, soft and gentle as she explored you and you audibly sighed in relief as she found your clit and circled it slowly. She took her time to do it in a way that left you breathless and desperate for more. When your moans turned to whines of frustration, she retracted shortly, watching fear rise within you at the prospect of being left like this, before she dipped a finger in your entrance. She let it sink in entirely this time, meeting no resistance as you welcomed her. She moved in and out of you with slow precision, dragging out your pleasure even from this, only adding a second finger, when she was satisfied with your desperate state. The delicious stretch that her fingers provided had you moaning, your walls squeezing her in, refusing to let her go even for a second. Had it not been for the soundproof spell she had put on your room, the whole house would have heard you and you were grateful for this small mercy as she quickened her pace, starting to build you up. “My little brat!” She admired you, fingers pumping in even harder. “Has Mommy been soft on you all this time? Perhaps I let you get your way too much.” She added, watching you struggle to speak, struggle to think of something to say. “Or maybe you wanted to be punished. Is that it, little brat?” “No! No, Mommy.” You manage to say through broken moans as she hits an especially sensitive spot inside you. “Is this a good spot, baby?” She asks, hitting it again and watching you almost melt into the mattress. “Are you going to cum all over my fingers?” “Yes, Mommy, please!” You whimper as you get so close, your orgasm about to hit you. To your dismay, she pulls away, leaving you empty and smiling viciously when you whine in frustration. “You don’t deserve it.” She says coldly, flipping you over, so you can face her. She crawls over you like a predator, her eyes fiery and full of emotion. “Luckily for you, I’m in a generous mood.” She adds in a low growl, shifting her weight, so she could prop herself on one arm, the other returning back to your entrance and pushing slowly inside. She angled them as before, hitting that glorious spot within you every time, watching your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. Despite still being angry with you, she couldn’t help but feel a sort of reverence towards you, a sort of internal pull, something deep inside her loving to see your pleasured expression, loving to be the cause of it. And a primal urge to do it over and over again. When you got close again your arms wrapped around her, holding on to her in a way that she adored. You were so precious when you searched for her, arms tightening as if she’d disappear, nails digging into her skin, needing her close. The gesture never failed to warm her heart. “Go on, baby, cum for me, I’ve got you.” She whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck softly and feeling your face nestle against her as you held her even tighter, allowing yourself to finally cum. When your orgasm hit, you practically screamed, body shaking and spasming in pleasure, as powerful waves of it washed over your body. The intensity grew exponentially, surprising even you and you were glad that you had Wanda to hold on to, feeling as if you’d get lost in it without her. She helped you ride it out, whispering soft praises as she moved inside you, revelling in the feeling of your walls pulsing around her fingers and only pulling out when she knew you grew sensitive to her touch. She brought her fingers up, inspecting them with a satisfied grin, before she pried your lips open and pushed her fingers in your mouth, making you clean them off with your tongue, watching your blissed out face. When you let them go with a pop, recovering somewhat, Wanda kissed you deeply, exploring your mouth and getting a taste of you that only fuelled her desire.   “You taste so good, baby girl.” She smiled down at you, mischief in her eyes and she started to descend your body. “So delicious. I just have to try for myself.” She decides, settling between your spread legs and diving straight in. Her tongue swirled over your clit delicately, feeling it twitch under her. She had left it neglected until now and she loved the way you arched your back just from the smallest stimulation on it. She repeated the action slowly, licking a line straight from your opening up to your clit and your long sigh of pleasure was like music to her ears. Loving to tease you, she let her tongue push against your entrance a few times, keeping your legs open with her strong arms and feeling you trying to open them even further. “My greedy little brat.” She spoke roughly, one of her hands slapping your thigh, before she took it away. Her fingers found their way back inside you before you even had a chance to respond and she focused her efforts back on your clit, the intensity of it taking your breath away. Your back arched as you silently took everything she was giving you, feeling overwhelmed in the best possible way. “Mommy!” You moaned when her fingers curled inside you, building your next orgasm quickly. She wasted no time in swirling her tongue over your clit in delicious circles, knowing how much you loved the feeling. As the pleasure grew more intense, you couldn’t help but wish that you could stay in this moment, but your body didn’t listen, climbing higher and getting closer to the edge and Wanda was delighted. She kept hitting that same spot determined to have you cry out for her again and from the looks of it, it wouldn’t take long. “Mommy, I’m so close!” You squirmed, almost pulling away from her, but she wouldn’t let you. Your fingers laced in her hair almost instinctively, needing to touch her, to feel close to her, the muscles in your body tightening as you reached the edge. The feeling of it wasn’t sudden, you knew it was coming, yet you weren’t prepared for how intense it would be, or how powerfully the orgasm that followed would affect you. It started at the pit of your stomach, spreading over your entire body like a tidal wave, quickly taking over all your senses, until all you could feel was pleasure. Wanda’s tongue felt like it was brushing against all the best spots at once, and her fingers moved deep inside you, making your legs tremble, helping you ride it all out. The feeling of it was so deeply satisfying, that you didn’t want it to ever end. When it did, you practically melted, your chest heaving as you tried to breathe through your high, feeling Wanda crawl over you with a grin on her face. “That was amazing.” You said, your eyes closed and clearly thinking she was done with you. “Good.” She practically purred, leaning down to kiss you, her tongue easily invading your mouth and letting you taste yourself once more. She hovered above you for a few seconds, admiring the calm content on your face, your attention so focused on her eyes that you didn’t even notice when one of her hands sneaked between your bodies, taking hold of her cock, until she was lining it up with your entrance. “Oh my God!” You took a deep breath, waiting for the moment she would fill you, your words morphing into gasps as she stretched you, bottoming out in one smooth motion. “Did you think we’re done, little brat?” She asked as she lets you adjust to her. Every part of her screamed at the urge to just fuck you, overwhelmed by the indescribable feeling of being inside you. “After what you did today, I’m not stopping, until you’re so fucked out, you can’t even scream anymore.” She practically growled, pulling out half-way, so she could thrust inside you again. She couldn’t help herself. This truly was unlike anything she’d ever felt and she wondered why it took her so long to try. Getting to fuck your mouth and cum down your throat was spectacular, yes, but being inside you was heavenly. Your walls were hugging her tightly, squeezing and pulsing around her, your wet pussy welcoming her. This is where she belonged, where she wanted to stay, snugly nestled deep inside you and feeling every shudder, every tremble and twitch as she fucked you, getting to swallow all your moans as she kissed you deeply. “Fuck! You feel so good.” She grunted, thrusting even harder, her pace gradually building, causing surges of pleasure every time she bottomed out. “Such a tight little pussy.” She murmured to herself, thinking she might not last with the way you felt. You tried to meet her thrusts, your body caught between wanting to cum and already feeling overwhelmed, but she wouldn’t let you. Her strong arms held you down, forcing you to spread your legs even more, so she could hit an even deeper spot inside you. She took both your wrists, pinning them above your head and staring you down, as if daring you to defy her. She was nowhere near done with you and she wasn’t going to let you think that she had so easily forgiven you. After all, she still needed to teach you a lesson. “Mommy.” You whine, your pretty eyes looking up at her and pleading for something you couldn’t voice. “Does it feel good, sweetheart?” She asks, watching you arch your back and snapping her hips, pulling a gasp from you. “Feels so good, yes!” You manage between small moans. “Show me.” She demands, rolling on her side and taking you with her, until suddenly you were on top and she was smirking at you. “Ride that cock.” She instructed smugly, her hands starting to guide your hips. You tried to take it slow, but Wanda wouldn’t let you, pushing you to match the rhythm she had previously set, watching your breasts bounce above her. She was so deep inside you at this angle, her eyes devouring the way you moved. In the heat of the moment you reached down to play with your nipples, forgetting yourself, until she pushed them away harshly. “Put your hands behind your back.” She instructed, catching the momentary hesitation in your eyes. “Don’t make me do it for you.” She warned and you did as you’re told, intertwining your fingers behind you and feeling her magic envelop them in invisible ropes. “These are mine to play with, remember?” She smirked, reaching up to roll your nipples between her fingers, pulling even more moans from you as your hips stuttered for a moment. Wanda made you ride her like this, enjoying the way you teased yourself, your pace too slow to take you over the edge. Your little frustrated moans and whimpers only made it sweeter. She could admire you like this for hours, if it wasn’t for her own orgasm that kept building and growing, until she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it back for much longer. That’s when her hands gripped your hips, guiding you to move faster, her own hips joining your efforts and meeting you half way, driving her cock deeper than she’s ever been, pulling a series of loud moans from you, your head thrown back. “How does that cock feel, baby girl?” She panted. “So good!” You whined, breathless. “I’m so full.” “Oh, you have no idea, honey.” Wanda smirked, feeling you squeezing her cock. “Wait till Mommy pumps you full of her cum. Then you’ll be really full.” She promised in a growl, her hips picking up their speed. “Oh my God, please!” You rasped, your walls twitching with anticipation. “Yeah? You want it? Are you going to keep it inside, baby? Mommy will be very disappointed if you waste it.” “I’ll keep it.” You promised in a daze, knowing you were on the edge and seconds away from falling off it. “Please, just let me cum, please.” You begged, feeling that tightening that signalled your orgasm. “You wanna cum all over Mommy’s cock, honey?” She teased, knowing you’re so close and feeling herself ready to explode. “Please, please, please!” You whined, about to do it, regardless if she allowed it or not and bracing yourself. “You can cum. Go on, cum with me.” She encouraged, delivering one final thrust and burying herself as deep inside you as he could. The orgasm that washed over her body was unlike anything she’d ever felt. Wave after wave in rapid succession, each one more satisfying than the last. Your pussy was squeezing her tightly through it, pulsing and milking her cock, hungry for every drop of her cum. Enveloped in you, she felt bliss and she wanted to prolong it as much as possible, thrusting inside you in irregular motions, until she was spent. Above her, you were lost in your own little world of pleasure, head thrown back, with your hair falling behind you in waves as you came. You could feel the ropes of cum as she filled you up, felt the way your pussy spasmed as you came, each twitch a new surge of orgasmic bliss as you fell apart. Distantly, you could hear Wanda moan below you, felt her fingers digging into your flesh as she held on to you and it only made it better, her thrusts only stopping when you both couldn’t take anymore. “Fuck!” She cursed, helping you to get off of her and laying you on the bed. You felt her get up and had you been more coherent, you might have questioned why she didn’t release your arms, still tied behind your back, but as it was, you could hardly even think. Wanda got off the bed in a slow, lazy motion, admiring your spent body and the way you panted. In your helpless state and with her cum leaking out of your pussy, you looked even more fuckable and a sense of primal desire took over her. She took hold of your ankles and pulled you down, towards the edge of the bed, until your feet touched the floor and you were left bent over the bed. In a swift motion, you felt Wanda spread your legs more, opening you up to her, so she could have a better look at you. Another drop of her cum leaked out of you, pulled down by gravity, until Wanda stopped it with a finger and pushed it back in, pulling a surprised gasp from your throat. She watched the way her finger disappeared inside you and you moaned in frustration, feeling overstimulated and needy at the same time. “Didn’t I tell you to keep my cum inside?” She questioned from above you, her eyes turning dark again. A fact that would have brought more alertness to you if you had seen it. “Such a bad girl. Defying Mommy all day…” “Mommy…” You moaned, not really sure what to say. “That’s ok, sweetheart. Mommy will just have to fill you up again.” She explained in a low, soothing tone, lining up her cock with your entrance once more. “Mommy, I’m so sensitive.” You tried to protest, feeling her tip gathering your wetness and the stray drops of her cum, involuntarily pulling away from the contact as it brought another jolt of overstimulation. “Oh no, don’t you try to squirm away from me.” She hissed, taking hold of you, firm and unwavering. “You’ve been begging me to fuck you all day. Parading yourself for me, teasing me, so I would drag you back here.” She said through her teeth. “You asked for this, now you’re going to take it. Isn’t that right?” She asked, her hand landing harshly on your ass and reminding you of the earlier spanking you had received. “Yes, Mommy.” You nod eagerly, feeling excited, despite how overworked your body felt. You loved it when she got like this. When she left behind her inhibitions and took what she wanted. “Go on, beg me to fuck you.” Wanda commanded, pushing the tip of her cock inside you and watching you gasp just from this. “Please, Mommy, fuck me.” You begged, anticipation building inside you and culminating in a deep thrust that buried her entire strap inside you. You moaned together, Wanda feeling a little overstimulated herself, but ignoring it, focusing entirely on the way your fists clenched at the feeling of her bottoming out. There really was nothing quite like it and she revelled in it. She remained pressed up against you, letting you feel the entirety of her length, while she ran her hands over your back and shoulders soothingly, bringing a sense of calmness and comfort. The sensation of her being still inside you was oddly arousing, a kind of teasing you hadn’t experienced before and you made an effort to move in your limited range of motion, only for her to snap her hips forward and pin you in place. “Oh my God!” You groaned. “Impatient, aren’t you, little kitten?” She smirked, pulling back and burying her entire length in you again. “Mommy, please!” You whined, incapable of escaping from her merciless, deep thrusts. “Oh, what’s the matter, baby? You were begging for my cock, now it’s too much for you, huh?” Before you can answer, another thrust came, making any words die in your throat, replaced by moans and whimpers. Her movement was calculated, using slow, deep thrusts that forced you to feel the entirety of her. Somehow her cock seemed bigger to you now, filling you to the brim and pushing out all thoughts, all feelings that weren’t her. Gradually, she started moving faster, building a rhythm, her hands on your hips, holding on to you tightly. Your mouth had fallen open at this point, small pants and whimpers leaving you as you tried to take everything she was giving you. It was both too much and not enough, leaving you trapped between a haze of lust and overstimulation. Watching you like this, Wanda couldn’t help herself. She reached a hand, taking a fistful of your hair and guiding you up, her other hand wrapping around you to support you. She nuzzled her face in your shoulder, leaving kisses and bites there while she fucked you. “Fuck, Mommy!” You moaned, calling out to her. “Hush, little kitten.” She silenced you quickly, the hand she had around you reaching up, two of her fingers finding their way into your mouth. “There you go. Suck on Mommy’s fingers.” She soothed, her hips picking up their speed. The dirtiness of it all did not escape you, yet you couldn’t help but open your mouth more, accepting her fingers to the knuckles, your tongue lapping at them, mirroring the way you had sucked her cock earlier. “That’s right. My dirty little girl.” She praised with a smile. When they were nice and wet, she pulled them out, smirking at the needy whines of protest you let out. “What’s the matter, honey? You miss having Mommy down your throat?” She almost mocked, her wet fingers tweaking your nipples, before trailing down and settling between your legs. “Maybe when I’m done fucking your sweet little pussy, I’ll put you back on your knees.” She suggested, parting your folds and settling her fingers on your clit, rubbing it in small circles.   The filthy insinuation of her words only heightened the feeling of pleasure inside you, your orgasm building. Her thrusts were relentless, now almost rough and demanding. She could feel you respond to her dirty talk, your walls clenching around her at the thought of being used more. Wanda could tell you were close, the knowledge spurring her on. She wanted to watch you fall apart. She added a little pressure to the way she rubbed your clit, her hips slapping against your every time she slammed her strap inside you, her other hand leaving your hair and settling across your chest, palming one of your breasts. She pinched the nipple, rolling it and she pulled you as close to her as she could, so she could leave sloppy kisses across your neck. “Mommy I’m so close!” You almost screamed, feeling her everywhere, practically surrounded by Wanda. “I know, baby…” She moaned against you. “You can cum.” She whispered. Her fingers tightened around your breast, bracing herself for the moment you’ll let go, her senses attuned to every small sign. She felt it as it started, your body stiffening, even your moans dying down as you reached the edge, but Wanda fucked you right through it, right up until the moment you moaned out her name and started to fall apart. Your pussy gripped her cock, pulsing around her, coaxing her to come with you. The feeling of your pleasure was so sweet and enticing, your pleading soft, whimpers an invitation she couldn’t resist, so she obliged your body’s demand, drawing out your pleasure with stuttering thrusts. Her fingers continued to circle your clit steadily, heightening every small wave of orgasmic bliss, enjoying the way each twitch of your pussy would add to her own pleasure, until you finally came down from your high and she held your shaking body against her, enjoying the aftershocks that surged through both of you, placing small kisses on your neck and shoulders. When you had calmed, she released your hands, helping you climb into bed, before using her magic to take off the harness and the attached dildo and settling next to you into bed. “Learned your lesson, baby?” She asked teasingly, pulling you against her, letting you settle on her chest and wrapping her arms around you. “I don’t know… I enjoyed that quite a lot.” You teased her back, a smile plastered on your face. Tired and knowing you probably couldn’t take anymore, Wanda let it slide, letting you fall asleep, her own breaths evening out as she thought of everything that happened.                                                                                          *             *             * The next morning came sooner than you hoped for, feeling tired and wishing you could sleep in, but you knew you shouldn’t. You turned to stop your alarm, but hit the snooze instead, huffing in disapproval and lying back down. Wanda usually woke up before you, she certainly never missed an alarm, so when you didn’t feel her stir, you settled, grateful to have a few more minutes, pressing your back to her front and feeling her arms pulling you towards her until there was no space between you. “Good morning, my love.” She whispered in your ear. “Good morning, love.” You whispered back, feeling her hand run down your arm and continuing its path across your sides and down your legs. Involuntarily, you closed your eyes, your backside pressing into her at the intimate, gentle feeling. “Look at you…” Wanda gasped, her voice filled with awe and admiration. “So beautiful.” She whispered against your ear, her voice still rough from sleep, sending a shiver down your spine. “So soft.” She muttered, her tongue tracing your lobe. “So sweet and tender.” She murmured, entranced by the feeling of having you in her arms. Wanda could stay here for an eternity and never get tired of it. You were everything she needed or wanted. Unfortunately, your alarm went off again and you huffed, hating to pull away to stop it. “We’ll have to get up.” She reminded, propping herself up on one elbow and watching you pout at her. “Can’t we stay in and cuddle a little?” You asked, pulling her arm towards you. “Just a few minutes.” You pleaded, but Wanda could see that spark in your eyes. She knew that glint of mischief, that smile, which meant that you wanted so much more than just cuddles. “We should go downstairs for breakfast.” She tried to remind you, but you weren’t listening. You nestled yourself against her, pushing up your butt into her front like an offering, guiding her arm around you and pulling it up to your face, your lips wrapping around her middle finger before she could stop you, pulling a surprised moan from her throat.   “I prefer having you in my mouth.” You stated, pulling her finger out of your mouth just long enough to say it and putting it back, sucking it in deeper. “Careful, dear.” She warned, despite entertaining you and moving her finger in and out of your mouth suggestively. “Don’t you remember what happens to naughty little girls?” “I enjoyed that.” You managed to say, before taking her wrist and guiding her hand, so you could take her finger up to the knuckle. The challenge in your voice did not escape Wanda and she raised an eyebrow at you, watching the side of your face, but you seemed unbothered, sucking onto her finger happily. “I should think of a better punishment then?” She suggested, pulling out her finger and offering you two, which you happily took, whining a little around them and pressing up your butt into her. Wanda indulged you for a few moments longer, letting you get her fingers nice and wet, before she took them away, immediately reaching between your legs and tracing your entrance, to find it wetter than her fingers. “Why punish me, Mommy? We had so much fun…” You tried to argue and while you were too busy trying to grind on the fingers she offered, you missed the swirling red magic that sparked from them. “Because you didn’t learn you lesson.” Wanda’s voice hardened and before you could question it, you felt the tip of her strap pressing into you. She rubbed it against you, getting it wet with your juices while you let out a deeply satisfied sigh at the feeling, happily expecting the moment she’ll enter you and you didn’t have to wait long. In a smooth motion, she buried herself inside you, quickly reminded of how good it felt. The angle was a little awkward at first, but she quickly adjusted, driving her cock in and out of you slowly, allowing herself the moment of enjoyment. She played with your clit right from the start, wanting to get you there quickly, whispering in your ear the entire time.

“Fuck, you feel so good. So tight around me.” She praised, kissing your shoulder, making love to you slowly. She could feel you grinding against her, wanting her to move faster, fuck you harder, but she was determined to keep her movements slow and teasing. Every time you’d try to push yourself against her, she’d stop, burying herself fully inside you and feeling your insides twitch with need and anticipation, squeezing around her cock in a silent plea for more. There was something spectacular about getting to tease you this way, something that brought her a deep sense of fulfilment that went beyond pleasure, or sex. The knowledge that you were hers to play with, hers to tease and fuck, hers to do with as she wished. Her precious little brat. “Mommy, please, don’t tease me.” You begged and to your surprise Wanda obliged you, her hips moving faster against you, her fingers adding more pressure to the way they circled your clit, giving you exactly what you wanted. “Like that, honey? That’s what my pretty girl needs?” She asked softly, kissing and biting your shoulder some more. “Just like that. I’m getting so close.” You practically whined, melting into her hands. “I know, baby. Mommy is close too. She’s about to fill you up with so much cum.” She promised sweetly, her face buried in your neck. “You want that, don’t you, baby?” “Yes, Mommy, I want that so much.” You mewled, getting even closer, feeling that edge approaching and leaving you full of giddy anticipation. “I want to cum with you.” Wanda only hummed, her thrusts getting sloppy and desperate as she felt herself on the edge. She could feel you were close too, almost there. You needed a few seconds longer, but she wasn’t about to give them to you. In a swift motion, her hand moved away from your clit, capturing your arm as a precaution, before allowing herself to let go, her orgasm taking over as she herd you whine at the realization that she wasn’t going to let you cum, but use you for her own pleasure instead. You felt the spurts of cum as she came deep inside you, your pussy reaching the edge, but needing a little more to fall over it. She had timed it perfectly, taking her hand away at the best moment, to make sure that her stuttering thrusts wouldn’t be enough for you. In fact, they only teased you more. Your whines and mewls of protest fell on deaf ears as she rode out the waves of pleasure surging through her body. When she was done, sighing against you with satisfaction, she pulled out, turning you over, so you could lie on your back and using her magic to pin your wrists above your head. With a flick of her wrist, the strap on disappeared and she looked down at you with a devious smirk on her face. You wanted to protest, you wanted to beg actually, plead with her to let you cum, but you knew she wouldn’t, so you kept your mouth shut, struggling against her bonds in a futile attempt to get away from them as she watched you in your frustration. She extended her arm, making sure you could see it well, before magic erupted from her fingers, swirling around them and concentrating above her palm, the thick ropes of red hiding the object she was conjuring until it was ready and it fell on her open palm for you to see. “You know where this is going, don’t you?” She asked with a smirk, letting you examine the small jewelled butt plug she held, the deep red colour of the gem matching her scarlet magic. “Words, darling. I need you to speak to me right now.” She coaxed in a gentle, soothing tone. You knew you could refuse, knew that Wanda was giving you this time to do it if you wanted to and for a moment you struggled to decide. The problem was, your body had decided for you. A fresh wave of arousal had washed over you at the sight of it, your pussy twitching with anticipation, even though you knew this will tease you more than help the need burning inside you. “Yes, Mommy.” You managed to say, meeting her eyes. “I hope that spending the morning with your ass plugged will help you remember to behave yourself.” She smiled, the toy still held up to your eyes. As you watched her, anticipation coursing through both of you, her lesson finally sunk in. You’d think twice, before challenging her or acting up next time. _______________________________________________________ I'm so excited about this fic and I can't wait to hear what you guys think! Disclaimer: The gif is not mine, I will happily give credit if i knew who made it.  If you liked this story and you want more, this fic now has a part 2: Face the consequences

[endereies]

Addicted 2 U - Chris Sturniolo

Contains: Sub!Chris (kinda), Drug-usage (be smart people), Blowjob, Hair pulling, don't like - don't read. Let me know if i missed anything<3

Author's notes: This is my first time writing smut so I hope it's good loll

word count: 2975

I had been to many parties in my life, fuck, I hosted half of them. But I never did anything crazy. I only provided, sometimes that drove me crazy. People around me were constantly inhaling smoke and I could only sit back and watch as the small embers burn and lit up in the cherry, making their faces glow against the night.

I had never had the urge to smoke and watching everyone get high was always an experience, typically leading to me taking care of everyone and making sure no one ever went overboard.

I was stressed.

-

I had been forced by some random kids at my college to host another party, only as a gateway to sell drugs to other students who shared the same cravings. It was a constant I was forced to adapt to, whether I liked it or not.

I had the same few people come up to me and most of the time the conversations reached around the same bends.

Most.

Chris has always managed to drag me in to some sort of long conversation, it made me feel like I wasn’t just used as a gateway to safely get high. Even if he had tried to convince me one or twice…

-

“Cmon y/n, you have never even wondered what it is like?” I had tried to walk to my lessons a long time ago but Chris had caged me in his presence enough that I had given up ten minutes ago.

“Of course I have wondered, but I don’t care enough to go along with anything.” I roll my eyes at him and try to turn away but he grabs my wrists and twists my body back towards him again.

“We both know that isn’t true” I provide him with a lack of a response and I raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve seen you at those parties, your eyes trace the blunts every single time. It’s the one thing you pay attention to other than those people who beg for ‘secret spots’ in your house.

“The fuck do you know, you are always out your mind whenever I see you. Nate had to drag you out last time.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping he will try and drop the subject soon.

“I had a new kind, ma. That ain’t fair…” He feigns a pout, not holding it for long without any giggles.

“Whatever, look. Just be at my place at seven. I’m hosting.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He leaves with that same stupid grin on his face.

-

The party had started an hour ago and I had landed myself in the gardens outside faster than I would’ve liked. My tie hung loosely around my neck and the top button of my shirt was undone. Already, someone had thrown up in front of me. Definitely the effects of previous substances but it was enough to dampen my mood and force me for some fresh air.

“Hey ma, nice outfit. Shame you chose outside as your runway.” I hear Chris’s voice from in front of me but I don’t bother enough to respond in the same manner as him.

“What.”

“You alright y/n?” He kneels down, his knees meeting to damp grass just so that he can see my face, full of mixed emotions.

“Some bitch nearly threw up on me, thankfully she didn’t but I can’t say the same to the houseplants.” I sigh and look away from him.

“Already?” My head nods in response.

“Well…Why are you out here then?” His voice seems gentler and calmer, noticing his normal attitude won’t get him anywhere.

“The smell was strong; the people are pissing me off and I have a headache from the shit music they are playing on repeat. But that’s nothing new…”

“Mind if I smoke?” He practically ignores the last sentences I give him and pulls out a poorly wrapped blunt that seems like it’s been stuffed into his pocket for a little bit too long.

“Whatever.”

He takes one of the garden chairs and drags it over the grass to sit close to me. As close as the seats would allow before the metal legs scrapped each other.

A small spark emits from an old red lighter before it glows with an orange flame. The light breeze shakes it and weakens the strength, making it have to stay alight longer before it managed to light the blunt. Chris holds the blunt between his lips, holding it there while putting the lighter in his pocket, inhaling weakly. It takes a few seconds before a cloud of smoke exits between Chris’s lips.

I didn’t mean to stare but the way the fire lights up his face in the dark was somewhat mesmerising. I could just be the awful night I was having but everything just seemed so much more appealing.

I suddenly grab the blunt from Chris’s hand and place it in between my own fingers and bring it to my lips and breath in. Big mistake.

I don’t even get a change to hold in the smoke before it exits my lungs harshly, scrapping my throat as it arises.

“Woah woah, y/n. Jesus are you okay?” His touch immediately burns into my back as he soothes it with his palm. “Take it easy…”

I can’t respond to him without producing weak coughs.

“If you really want to do it, I can show you?”

I’ve definitely had a shit day if I am really debating getting high. I don’t want to openly admit it so I nod my head slowly.

“Okay…I’ll show you how first, yeah?” I study his motions as he hollows out his cheeks slightly and allows more space to inhale, the ember’s light glows a little brighter when he breathes in. The blunt rests between his index and middle fingers and he draws it away from his mouth. Chris tilted his head away from mine and blows out the smoke into the cold air and I watch as it slowly disappears.

“Here.” His hand moves next to mine and I shakily grab the blunt.

Was I really doing this?

I bring it to my lips and exhale softly before placing it into my mouth.

“Try and relax and rest it just between your lips…” His voice trails off, putting his focus into adjusting my grip on the blunt.

“Like this?” My voice is meek as I try not to blow out the blunt.

“Better, ma. Now, inhale it slowly, once you feel a sting I want you to stop and hold it in.”

I try and take a long and deep breathe but the stinging comes sooner than later. I manage to hold it in my lungs for a few seconds before I’m forced to exhale quickly out of my nose with a slight cough. I shut my eyes as they start to water. Chris immediately takes the blunt from my fingers and I cough a little harsher now.

“There you go, not bad for your first time.” He smiles at me, taking the blunt between his own lips again while he waits for me to calm myself.

“That wasn’t as bad as the first time.” I shake my head as I cough one last time.

“This is a stronger one y/n, I’d rather you not take any huge amount of this, alright?” His tone isn’t as gentle and when he faces me his expression isn’t anything but serious.

“Yeah...sure.”

-

Chris and I had swapped between this blunt a few times and it had really started to hit me now, everything was dream-like. My vision lacked behind my brain and caused me to feel dizzy when I laughed too much or moved my head a little quickly. We kept on giggling to ourselves and playfully making jokes to one another.

“Fuck, I think I am feeling this now.” I smile pathetically at him, no longer being able to fully control my expressions.

“Yeah? Good. That’s when the good shit starts to happen, ma.” His eyes linger on mine as I take the blunt between my lips and take a deep inhale of the smoke. I watch his gaze fall to my lips even after the blunt is back in his hand again. When he looks back up a smirk is plastered on his face and I immediately try to compose myself.

Chris takes one final puff of smoke and put out the blunt, smashing it between the grass and the sole of his shoe. He looks over to me but I’m already staring at him.

“Everything okay?”

“You’re pretty.”

I don’t even think about the words I’m saying anymore to him, I’m too gone to care.

“Is that so?” He smiles sheepishly at my, gazing back down to my lips.

“Very much so. I’ve always noticed that.” A silence falls between us as we edge close to each other, his face only being a few inches away from mine.

I let out a shaky breath once I finally acknowledge the distance shortening between us.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

The warmth of our breath mingled between us before our lips finally meet each other’s.

The gentle pressure was enough to make me lose my mind and send a shiver down my spine. Chris’s fingers wrapped around the edge of my jaw, pulling me slightly closer to him. His teeth graze my lower lips slightly and I open my mouth for him to gain better access. I feel him smile against me and the way his hand traced my arm had me intoxicated.

I slowly pull away from him, wanting to catch my breath and his gaze remains locked on my lips, slightly coated in his saliva. The fixation makes me instantly clench my thighs tightly together.

His palm rolls off my arm and places itself on to my hip, using his thumb to press small circles into my skin. He remains looking at me softly before placing his lips on mine again. I accept his touch almost instantly and I feel his hand that was on jaw snake around to the back of my neck, wanting to pull me closer.

He relaxed his body with the aid of the weed and sighed into the kiss. I laid my hands on to his thighs and slowly dragged them upwards. A deep sigh emits from him as my hands etch closer. He breaks the kiss and looks down to my palm, watching it with a dazed expression.

“Is this okay…?” I look down in the same direction as him and inch my hand so that I stop just below his dick.

He hums in response and nods his head eagerly, a tent clearly forming under his jeans.

Before I move my palm, he pulls my head towards me with his hand still on my neck and kisses me softly again. I use this to my advantage and I shift my hand so that I’m gently palming Chris through his clothing, but I don’t apply enough pressure for any major satisfaction. Even so, I earn a light whimper from Chris and it becomes harder to resist to apply more force.

“Please...don’t be a tease, ma.” His voice is gentle against my lips and I feel his warm breath on my skin, making me smile in to the kiss.

I was definitely being hit harshly with the effects of the weed, while I appreciated Chris’s appearance, I would never openly admit that. Let alone palm his dick, just after we kiss for the first time. I had always known that he was an attractive person and I often caught myself staring. And I bet he knew that too since he often caught me in a daydream while sheepishly smiling at him.

I find myself following his words and I break away from the kiss so that I can move from the chair to the wet grass beneath me.

His eyes look in to mine, practically begging me to touch him.

I keep my eyes on him while I brush my hands over his jeans and up towards his belt, slowly undoing it. I pull his jeans down past his waist and to his thighs.

I palm him again slowly and I see his head tilt backwards, making sure that I apply more pressure this time. I play with the waistband of his boxers and slowly pull them down to meet his jeans.

I stare at his dick and reality set in for a moment. Being high was mixing with my brain but at this point I was too far gone to care about that. It was something I would leave for future me to figure out.

I wasn’t going to overthink this and I just leant forward to kiss the tip of Chris’s dick and softly lick over it.

“Fuck…” His words fall softly from his lips in a whisper.

I continue to softly kiss the tip before licking a stripe down from his base to his tip and taking him in my mouth. A faint groan emits from Chris and his back arches slightly from the stimulation. He let his legs fall more to the sides which allowed me to etch closer. My mouth withdrawals from his cock and I smile at the hitched breath he takes from the loss of contact.

I swirl my tongue around my mouth whilst I gather saliva which drips off my tongue and falls on to the tip of his dick. It slowly flows down the side and I push the remaining amount down with my palm. My eyes fixate on Chris’s face and I drag my hand up and down his dick, torturingly slow. Looking back down towards me, Chris moans softly at the sound of my saliva over his skin, the weed making this experience more heightened for the both of us.

“Does this feel good Chris?” I mumble quietly against the skin of his thigh that I nip and kiss at.

“Fuck yeah, don’t stop…” He moans through his words breathlessly, the tone of my voice making his hips jerk into my palms.

I look back down to his dick and lean in so that my face is directly in front of his dick, making sure he keeps his eyes on me like a dog playing fetch. Groans echo through my ears once I take him in my mouth, letting my tongue glide across his skin. I take a few inches into my mouth and slowly bob my head up and down, making sure that I work with the rest in my hand.

One of his hands grips on to the sides of the chair, his knuckles turning white as he tries to remain still while the other hand finds its way to the back of my head. His fingers brush over my hair, almost reassuring me before he grabs a fistful into a make-shift ponytail.

After working around his tip for a few moments, something in me snaps and I deepthroat him, catching us both off guard. His hips rut towards my mouth as his dick hits the back of my throat and I gag slightly at the sensation.

A whine leaves Chris’s throat when I remove my mouth from him.

“You okay baby?” The name falls so casually from his lips and it grabs my attention quickly. “You don’t have t- fuck”

I draw out a long moan as I take his deep into my throat once again, getting past the constant need to gag. When I do gag, I try and not pull off completely and work around the tip again.

Chris decides that isn’t enough and uses the strands of hair he gathered to push my head back down onto his cock. Saliva drips from the corners of my mouth and I collect in my palm repeatedly, spreading it to the places my mouth can’t reach.

My eyes look back up to him, his face twisted in pleasure.

“If you keep looking at me l-like that I’m gonna c-cum, ma.” I hum in approval, sending vibrations down his dick. His grip on my hair tightens and pulls slightly whenever his hips jerk upwards.

I feel his dick twitch slightly in my mouth, signalling that he was close, so I slow down to tease him a little while longer.

“y/n…I’m close.” He moans breathlessly and pants through his words.

When he says this, I take him deep in my mouth, doing my best to supress my gags. He twitches again and his hips jerk up to hit the back of my throat. His grip on my hair tightens and he holds me in place.

“fuck..” He groans as he cums down my throat. I ignore the tears that prick at my eyes and swallow it all. My mouth leaves his dick but my hand remains pumping it to ride out his high. Small whimpers leave his lips once it starts to become too much and I look up at him, his face slightly fucked out.

“Was that okay?” I murmur quietly trying to break the silence.

“Ma, that was perfect, you looked so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” His words land heavily through his breaths but I smile up at him as he adjusts himself.

Chris is a little uneasy on his feet once his orgasm diminishes, the effects of weed only slightly weaker now. He pulls his boxers and jeans back up and looks me in the eyes as I follow suit and stand next to him. Fingers wrap around under my chin and pull me towards Chris for another kiss, allowing him to taste himself.

“I should get high with you more often, Chris” I speak against his lips making him pull back.

“Yeah? You’d be a fool to think this wasn’t happening again.”

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @sturniolosmind @worldlxvlys @patscorner @breeloveschris @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @mayhem-72 @luverboychris

[thisismeracing]

Charlieverse | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader ― Word count: 2.1k ― Warnings: mentions of alcohol and Halloween costumes (clowns, werewolves, and others).  ― Summary: When Yn decided to go to a Halloween party with her best friend, Charles Leclerc, she did not consider that some of the fantasies would be so close to reality that they would terrify her. But one thing Yn had no idea about too, was Charles’ feelings for her. All Hallow’s Eve is not the most romantic scenario to confess your feelings, but it might be just the perfect one for them.

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There are many sayings about how sharing is caring, and how life feels bigger and better when you do so.

Charles knew this all too well.

He was used to sharing everything with you since he was a kid.

It all started after you forgot your snack at home. He was only five years old then, but he had two brothers so he knew exactly what to do. Little Charles offered to share his bag of colored goldfish and grapes with you. The next day you shared your coloring pencils with him. It started with simple things, and it grew as you both grew older. All through the school years, Charles and you were inseparable, even with his crazy racing schedule. You would take notes for him, he would bring you stories, and you would study together until late hours. You shared your fears, deepest feelings, and even the shame of being underdressed when invited to a party such as now.

“I had no idea people would go this hard,” you state, watching as the Taxi driver came to a halt in front of the big doors. Gathered in front of the mansion were people dressed as all kinds of gore Halloween beings, some of the makeup seeming too real to your liking.

“We can go back home and change if you want,” there’s Charles' tranquil voice. He is always the one to keep his patience even if the world is ending, and you love that about him.

You shake your head, “We would never find something else in time, plus, we’re together, so… here’s to another good story,” you point to your matching costumes, and Charles smiles.

You’re both wearing Spiderman costumes. Though it felt like the best choice, the easiest one, you should have guessed it was too easy and, therefore, not ideal.

Charles gives you one last wink before putting on his mask. You do the same just as he opens the door for you, and hand in hand you walk through the crowd into the house. You cling to your best friend’s arm trying to stay as far away as possible from some of the costumes.

“You sure you’re ok over there?” Charles asks when you’re halfway to the kitchen, and you tighten your grip on his hand.

You nod, “Yeah, just.. That werewolf costume seems too realistic.” And there’s no need for you to explain to him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand, his favorite track, his most played song. Charles knows that someone planted a seed of fear about some creatures when you were little, and some of the stories have stayed with you even after you grew. It is a bit curious how despite your fears, you still love Halloween, at least the kind of parties you go to where people will dress in a way that clearly shows that they are human beings and meant no harm.

Were you supposed to guess that a certain crazy clown costume was a mere costume after seeing people being killed by those?

You wouldn’t stay to answer that question.

When you finally reach the kitchen, both of you take off the mask to your friends, hugging and making your rounds. Charles grabs you two a drink and you choose to stay there instead of mingling and risking bumping into scary figures.

“Can you get me another of these?” You mouth to Charles pointing at your empty cup. From across the kitchen, he nods, and a few seconds later he’s in front of you with a full cup.

“They were out of ice, is it ok if we share this one?” he asks over the music and you nod. You’re sitting on the counter, and when Charles turns to your friends he stands right between your legs. One of your hands goes to his shoulders, and you keep talking about your costume as if your heart weren’t hammering inside your ribcage, almost coming out from your throat the second his hand finds your knee, holding it so your anxious bounce can cease.

You gulp trying to keep your attention on whatever your friend is talking about because all your mind can focus on is your best friend’s hand on you, his body radiating warmth into yours. And not that it is unusual for Charles to touch it, quite the opposite, he loves to hug and kiss those he cares about, but it’s just lately your heart seemed to wish for a different kind of sharing.

It wants to share the secret touches. It wants to claim hungry kisses, tears of happiness, loud silences, and whispered mysteries. It is as if your heart created a reality where you had all of this with Charles.

Your own Charlie-verse.

The party keeps going in full swing, and Charles never leaves your side for over thirty minutes. He comes and goes always checking if you’re ok and if you want to go with him, but you choose the safety of the counter and your crowd of friends. The conversation is good, and so is the booze, from the kitchen you can see a bit of the living room and the pool area through the glass doors.

And it’s only when part of the girls decide to go dancing that you hop off the counter, and grab Charles’ hands following him in the direction of another crowd of friends. You’re tipsy enough to lace your fingers with his and to tighten your grip when you pass people dressed as clowns, werewolves, and with fake open wounds.

You end up in the pool area in front of Charles, he holds your body protectively against his, while his other hand has a cup you’re still sharing. The conversation is between the group, but every once in a while something will catch his attention and he’ll whisper about it in your ear, to which you’ll slightly turn your head, chuckle, and then answer him.

Though you felt a bit out of place at first with how everyone’s costumes seemed so extra compared to yours, you and Charles have had a lot of fun. So much so that you have given up going back home and decided to share a cab to his apartment.

Half of the ride a tipsy Charles is lecturing you with his “I told you so” about how he suggested you slept at his place and you denied it before the party. You just rest your head on his shoulder and pretend you are listening to his non-stop rant.

As it happens, the driver seems a bit uninterested in Charles’ rant because he turns the music on, and the last song that starts playing when he makes the curve into Charles’ street is Michael Jackson. You shriek and start jumping on the car seat.

“Chérie, it’s late,” your best friend tries to reason, but you just giggle.

“You have soundproof walls.”

“But not windows,” he tries again, and you playfully roll your eyes before getting out of the car wishing the driver a good night.

“Annie, are you okay?” you start to sing as you reach the elevators, and Charles just fakes a sigh, holding you close by the waist.

“So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?” you sing loudly until you reach the penthouse.

“Love, that’s not Smooth Criminal’s dance, that’s Thriller…” Charles holds back his laughter when you start a made-up choreography in his living room. “Oh mon dieu, you’re so precious.”

You giggle, smacking a loud kiss on his warm cheeks. While you make your track to the bathroom Charles goes to the kitchen.

“I’m using the guest bathroom! Go shower on the main one, you stinky!” you scream from the corridors and you hear his scoff, almost able to picture his eye roll.

You go through your shower on autopilot, brushing your teeth, and reaching for one of Charles’ shirts that are on the guest bedroom bed. Your visits have been so frequent you have everything you need there, but tonight you didn’t want one of your pajamas, you want to indulge in the daydream that your mind is harnessing.

When you reach your favorite Monegasque bedroom you can hear the shower still running, so you settle in the middle of his bed, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere in your head, there’s still music playing and your body seems to have kept a bit of the buzzing from the party. The distant noises coming from the open windows, along with the wind hitting the curtains lull you into a soft slumber, that only goes away when a door closes, you guess it's his closet, you smell his body wash and shampoo before he steps close to you.

There’s too much happening inside your head, so you choose to stay in silence while your best friend watches you attentively, eyes finding yours in a beat.

Charles, on the other hand, doesn’t have much in his head. He only has you. Your smell, your laugh, your voice, your body on his bed wearing his shirt.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” his mouth works faster than his brain does, and just like that you’re staring at him in confusion.

It’s like his brain is shortcircuited.

Charles gets up from the bed.

He walks to the door, then turns around and comes back to your side. There’s a crease between his brows and you have known him long enough to identify it as worry.

“Sharls, what’s going on?”

“I’m not drunk ok? Before you say anything, I’m not drunk, I’m just tipsy like you,” he starts and you nod from your spot on the bed. “I am so sorry, but I have to tell you this, and I’ll completely understand if you don’t feel the same, but I have to take this out of my chest, Yn.”

Sensing how serious the situation is you sit up, legs crossed one over the other, hands tucked under them.

“I- uhm… See- It’s like this, I-”

“Charles,” you call.

“I’m in love with you,” he spills in a single sentence, but then he keeps going. “I love you so fucking much it’s starting to hurt the fact that I’ve been keeping it from you. And I don’t even know when it started, but I’m so used to sharing everything with you, I just.. I wanted us to share more. I wanted to share my bed with you, and my clothes, and-” he points with his fingers before you could say something, “And I know we already share those things, but I want to do it differently. I want to share romantically. I want to share my heart with you, Chérie, all of it. But I’ll understand if you’re confused or overwhelmed by my outburst, in fact… shit… I should have waited in case you wanted to go home right? Please, tell me that if you don’t feel the same you’ll at least get the farthest guest bedroom, I promise I won’t bother you, we’ll pretend it didn’t happen in the morning and I-”

“No,” you interrupt.

“Pardon?”

“I said no, I won’t sleep in the farthest guest bedroom.”

“Oh- then let me drive you, just…– fuck I can’t I drank… uhm I’ll–”

“No, Charles, stop,” you get on your knees on the mattress and reach for his arm, bringing his body close to yours.

“No, I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom because we’re sharing a bed tonight. No, I’m not mad about your admission, I’m sharing my heart with you too. Romantically,” you confess.

His shoulders drop in relief, and you giggle, threading your fingers on his soft strands. Charles mutters something you can’t understand because you’re too focused on how his face seems different from this angle, after all the confessed words. He’s still your Charles, but he’s also a new Charles, and this knowledge brings a new feeling to your heart and stomach.

When his lips find yours, soft and warm, a contrast with his cold hands on your jaw and waist, he presses your bodies closer and hums in pleasure. You smile, unable to contain your happiness. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, and when the air has made itself scarce, you part the kiss, foreheads still touching.

“So, Charlie, are you okay? Are you okay, Charlie?”

Charles throws his head back and laughs.

He knows how insufferable you could get once a song gets stuck in your head.

“I was struck down. You’re such a smooth criminal, Chérie. Stealing hearts around so easily.”

It is your turn to laugh.

“That was cheesy, but I loved it,” you mumble before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I love you.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked the piece, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia on Tumblr) for proof and beta-reading this <3.  Let me know your thoughts on this piece *mwah*.  

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[marlynnofmany]

Downhill Speed

You know what's a shame? Wasted potential.  Like this new place we were doing business, which was all swooping walkways and ramps — a spectacular opportunity for hoverboard fun, except for the fact that it would probably cause a massive diplomatic incident. The locals were an exceptionally stuffy and dignified species. I couldn't tell if they walked that slowly out of choice or necessity, though the planters full of edibles leaves every few yards felt like a clue. These guys were always chewing, as if they'd run out of the energy to move if they stopped.

I don't know. Maybe they were just like that for cultural reasons. But they kinda did look like koala-sloths in fancy robes. 

And as much as I wanted to find something with wheels or thrusters to ride whooping down the walkways, I didn't want to get our courier ship blacklisted from this sector of space. 

So I just waited patiently while Captain Sunlight worked out the details, and I helped Paint and Mur transfer the pile of small boxes from their hoversleds to ours. I didn't even comment on the inefficiency of all these small crates and multiple hoversleds when they could have had them strapped together in a pallet. Maybe the things came from multiple houses. Not my business. 

But then. One of the locals dropped a box.

It landed on a corner and cracked right open, to a chorus of horrified gasps, and its contents rolled out — a single glowy blue sphere, all sparkly and beautiful, the size of a bowling ball and just as fast. It gathered speed down the ramp while locals cried out helplessly. 

Well if that's not my cue, I don't know what is.

I jumped on a hoversled and flashed off after it, kicking madly to catch up. This was more awkward than I expected. I was out of practice — it had been a long time since I zipped between college classes on a proper board — and this was definitely not that. The little hoversled clearly wasn’t built for speed. It vibrated under me like it was panicking about the velocity we were going, and I couldn’t blame it.

This ramp was a pretty straight one so far, which was great, because I had no real way to steer. I’d kicked to a proper pace, and now I balanced with both feet planted and both arms out like an absolute amateur. But I didn’t want to tip over. I was closing in on the ball.

It made an ominous rumble along the floor.

It was just two yards away.

There was a corner coming up.

The ball was one yard away.

I crouched.

And I grabbed it, tucking it against my chest with one arm while I clutched the edge of the hoversled with the other, sitting down just before I slammed into the clear wall at the corner.

That was some painful skidding. I put my feet down to slow things further, which ended up spinning me around, dragging my feet behind me. But I didn’t drop the ball. And I probably didn’t get any friction burns through my sleeve, though I’d definitely have to check that later.

For now, I was busy sliding to a stop and taking a few deep breaths before standing up. As my blood stopped pounding in my ears quite so loudly, the realization trickled in that people were making a lot of noise around me.

Good noise? I think. Whew.

It took a second to be sure, but those were cheers of praise. Either this ball was an important holy item, or the stunt I’d pulled to catch it was just that impressive. Possibly both. I wouldn’t know until I got back up to the top, because there wasn’t anyone nearby to ask.

But they were hurrying down to meet me, as much as their species could be said to hurry. I found the height adjustment on the hoversled and raised it to where I could tow it without bending down, then started the long walk back up. I held the pretty blue sphere close.

When the koala-sloths met me in the middle, galloping with an undignified flapping of robes, they thanked me profusely for catching the high explosive before it leveled the place.

Multiple responses ran through my head.

I ended on “You might consider better packaging for it.”

They agreed, taking it from me (to my relief) and pulling the hoversled as well. By the time we reached the top, our entire crew was going to town with bubble wrap on the other boxes, and Captain Sunlight had arranged a significantly higher delivery fee.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[candycandy00]

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 3

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify! 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Bondage. Extremely rough/violent sex. Slapping. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

On the third week of your training, Sukuna invites you to join him in the dining hall for dinner. He’s never done this before, and you’ve never even been to the dining hall at meal times yet. 

As your emotions slowly return to you, you’re starting to understand why his previous dolls made the choice to have meals in his room. It’s not so easy to face a room full of people who have been listening to your cries of pain and pleasure. Two weeks ago, you had zero shame and didn’t care at all. Now, you feel your face heating up at the thought. 

“You don’t have to join me,” he tells you, his tattooed, muscular body draped across his bed while you stand at his dresser. “It’s your choice.”

“I will,” you say, deciding on the spot. You think you’d regret not going more than you would going. 

Sukuna smiles and sits up. “Good. Wear the dress I bought for you.”

You can’t contain a grimace. He wants you to wear that little thing? To the dining hall? But he’s never directly told you to do anything outside of the training sessions, so you hate to deny him now. 

After pulling it out of the closet, you try the dress on. Since it’s strapless, you have to remove your bra to wear it. Sukuna watches you tug and pull on the fabric, trying to get it situated on your body. You’ve never worn something like this before. He laughs before walking over to zip up the back for you, then he leads you over to a full length mirror in the corner and stands behind you as you look at your reflection. 

“It’s too short,” you say, noticing the split on the left side that reveals your scarred hip. The scars on your shoulder, arm, and neck are also prominently visible. “Everyone will stare at my scars. They’ll lose their appetites.”

Sukuna puts his hand on your left shoulder, right on the scars, and slowly rubs it down. You can still feel his touch, whether you’re in a training session or not. It still feels marvelous. 

“If anyone stares at you, it’s a compliment. It means you’ve captured their attention, that you’re interesting,” he tells you. “The most valuable trait a human can possess is being interesting.”

You lower your eyes, looking at your own feet in the mirror. They’re the only part of you that’s not scarred in some way. “You don’t think… they’re disgusting?” you ask, gesturing to the scars. 

His hand moves to your hip, sliding beneath the slit in your dress. “They’re beautiful,” he says, his mouth close to your ear, his eyes burning into yours in the reflection. He rubs over the scarred flesh, seeming to love the way it feels beneath his fingertips. 

Before things get too heated, the two of you finish getting ready and walk to the dining hall. It’s already full of people, some of them sitting at tables and some filling plates at the food table. You recognize the two men you spoke to in the kitchen, each with their own doll this time. You’re a bit shocked when you realize the doll sitting beside the long haired man is completely naked, at least as far down as you can see.  With your newly awakened emotions, you feel embarrassed just looking at her. 

The doll with the white haired man might have it even worse. She’s on her knees on the floor beside his seat, a leash extending from her neck to his hand. She’s wearing a bizarre bikini type outfit and… is that a tail? 

Suddenly you don’t feel like you stand out so much. 

It’s a short-lived feeling. 

Once the other trainers and dolls begin noticing you, a hush falls over the room. Just like you predicted, everyone is staring at you. But no one looks disgusted. They only look surprised. 

“Have you ever brought a doll to the dining hall with you?” you ask Sukuna as the two of you make your way to the food table. 

“Never,” he says, flashing you a grin as he hands you a plate. 

You glance out over the sea of eyes on you. “So, they’re probably more surprised by me being here at all than by my scars.”

“I would assume so.”

You want to ask him why he brought you, and no other doll before you, but you don’t think it’s the right time or place for that question. So you move quietly down the table, filling your plate, and then sit down at a table with Sukuna. 

By this point, everyone else has returned their attention to their own meals, or their own dining companions. You notice a few glances being tossed your way, but it feels more like curiosity than gawking. One of the other dolls even smiles and waves at you. Not knowing what else to do, you awkwardly wave back. Are dolls allowed to interact with each other? It probably depends on their trainer. 

The food is the same as what you’ve been eating all along, but it somehow feels different here in the dining hall. It tastes better, seems a bit fancier. Even the strawberries you put on your plate for dessert taste luxurious. After you take a bite from one, Sukuna reaches over and takes it from your hand, then puts the rest of it in his mouth. 

At the next table over, the white haired man is watching with a look of shock. Sukuna grins at him, then leans over and kisses you. A few of the other trainers look stunned. Sukuna is clearly enjoying the reactions he’s getting, as he laughs and pulls you closer, feeding you another strawberry from your plate. 

You realize he’s being so affectionate because it disturbs the others, but you’re enjoying it all the same. You feel yourself becoming flushed and heated as his thumb presses a small strawberry into your mouth and then grazes over your lips. Suddenly you want him, more fiercely than you ever have before. You want his touch all over your body, you want him inside you. 

“C-can we go back to your room now?” you ask him, a tremor in your voice. 

He looks at you, at your face, and immediately understands. A smile spreads over his face, smug and self satisfied. Then he stands up and takes your hand, escorting you back to his room as if he were a gentleman. 

You barely get inside and shut the door before he’s on you. His hands are quickly pulling the top half of your dress down and hiking the bottom half up, so that it’s just a strip of wadded black fabric around your waist. Your panties are gone before you even realize it, and he’s got one hand between your thighs and the other groping your scarred breast while he kisses your neck from behind. 

It’s never been like this before. There’s usually so much prep involved, with harnesses or ropes or tools. But now, it’s like he can’t wait for all that. He has to have you now. There’s an animalistic quality to the way he’s manhandling you, not letting you forget that his specialty is pain. He’s rough with you, his hands bruising with their grip, his teeth biting into your shoulder. He throws you to the floor, temporarily knocking the wind out of you. He pulls off his shirt and opens his pants, then crawls on top of you. 

With one hand he pins your wrists above your head, using his knees to shove your legs apart. He looks you in the eyes, then smirks.  “Are you afraid of me?”

You don’t know why he’s asking that. What sort of expression are you wearing right now to give him that idea? “No,” you say. 

He leans down close and runs his tongue over the scarred side of your face, and that’s when you realize there are tears leaking out of your eyes. You don’t know why. 

“You should be,” he says in his smooth voice. “I want to devour you.”

He releases your wrists, but his hand moves to your throat instead, where it suddenly tightens. It hurts, and you can’t breathe. At the same moment, you feel his cock shove into you, hard and fast, all the way in. He holds your neck, choking you, until you feel like you might pass out. Your hands are free. You can use the safe gesture if you want, but you trust Sukuna. Before you lose consciousness, he releases you. Gasping and coughing, you look up at him with frantic eyes. 

Sukuna slaps you, his open palm  striking your face, leaving your unscarred cheek stinging. Then, while you’re still trying to catch your breath, he covers your mouth with his own, plunging his tongue into your mouth. His thrusts become slower, but deeper and harder, slamming into you with such force that it lifts your body from the floor. One of his hands is squeezing your breast so hard, you think he might crush it. 

You’ve never been fucked so violently before, but you’re on the edge of climaxing already. Everything hurts, you’re crying and shaking, but feeling Sukuna’s hunger for you is the most arousing thing in the world. He breaks the kiss, letting you sharply inhale deep breaths between hiccuping sobs, and quickly bites into your neck. You feel his teeth break the skin, feel his hand slide down between your bodies and harshly pinch your clit between his finger and thumb, and that’s your limit. 

The orgasm absolutely wracks your body, turning you into a weeping, quivering mess beneath him. He doesn’t stop ramming into you until he reaches his own limit. He pulls out suddenly and moves up, shooting his cum all over your crying face. The warm liquid drips over your eyes and lips. You open your mouth to let some of it slide inside. 

He grins down at you as he lightly strokes his cock, keeping it hard. Where does he get the stamina? “Don’t pass out yet,” he says. “We’re far from finished.”

You spend the rest of the evening being roughly fucked, your body tossed around and used for his pleasure. When it’s over, you’re covered in bruises and bloody bite marks, looking as if you were brutally assaulted. Your face is slightly swollen from being slapped, your pussy sore from his violent thrusts. He helped you bathe then carried you to bed, and now he’s laying beside you, his fingers gently stroking your arm. 

Looking at him now, you finally understand why you were crying earlier. It’s because you’re starting to have feelings for him that you know you can’t have. He’s your trainer, and beyond that, he’s not the kind of man who would ever return those feelings. You’re well aware of that. So it hurts, feeling this way. If you’d known you were going to fall for him, you would have preferred to just stay numb. 

But it’s too late now. 

“I’m going out tomorrow,” he says, pulling your body closer to his.

You nod, appreciating that he always tells you the night before, so you don’t wake up wondering where he is. You fall asleep in his arms, lulled by sound of his quiet breathing. 

When you wake up, Sukuna is walking through the door. The sound of it must have stirred you from sleep. He looks surprised to see you still in bed. 

“Sleeping in?” he asks, closing the door behind him. 

You pull back the covers and climb out of bed, stretching as you walk over to him. You wince and hiss as the soreness from yesterday’s activities attacks your body. Sukuna looks you up and down appreciatively, as if he enjoys the sight of all those bruises and marks.  

“I guess yesterday wore me out,” you say, then you quickly change the subject. “You weren’t gone long.”

“I had to go get something,” he says, a hint of a smile on his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He holds it out to you, and tears immediately fill your eyes. 

It’s your locket. The one your mother gave to you shortly before she died, the one your previous owner took from you. When you reach up to take it, you notice that Sukuna’s knuckles are bruised and bloody. 

“How?” you ask, cradling the necklace in your hands. 

Sukuna grins. “Oh he was happy to give it to me after I had a little chat with him.”

You can’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. You hand the necklace back to him and turn around. “Can you…?”

He steps closer and lowers the necklace over your head, around your neck, then clasps it at the back. His hands move to your shoulders and slide down your arms. You feel a shiver of pleasure at his touch. “Thank you,” you tell him, wiping your eyes. 

***********************

It’s a week later, the fourth week of training, when the owner calls Sukuna and his doll into her office. She seems to be in a good mood as the two of them sit down. 

“We have a potential buyer who wants to meet with you,” the owner says to the doll. “He’s got an impeccable record. An older gentleman in his late 40’s. He’s owned one doll before. We contacted her and she said he treated her well during her ten year stay with him. She had no complaints and even considers him a friend.”

Sukuna’s eyes shift to his doll, eager to see what she thinks of this news. Her face is almost completely blank, the sort of expression she wore when she first got here. 

“Will you meet with him?” the owner asks. 

His doll is silent for a moment, then she glances at Sukuna. Is she waiting for his opinion? After it becomes clear that he has nothing to say, his doll slowly nods her head. “I can meet him.”

“Fantastic. I’ll set things up,” the owner says, then dismisses them. 

In the hall, his doll is even more quiet than usual. She walks beside him, the silver locket around her neck occasionally catching the light as she moves. She stops suddenly when they’re close to his door. 

“Do you think I’m ready?”

He looks back at her. She’s staring at him with those big wet eyes. She obviously wants some specific answer from him. She wants to know how he feels about this. 

But… he feels nothing. She’s a doll he’s training. He enjoys them thoroughly for six weeks and then passes them along. At least she’s not crying and making a scene like some of his past dolls do. No, she’s too guarded for that. Even with her emotions back, she still keeps her feeling in check. He likes that about her. 

“Maybe not right now,” he tells her, “but before the six weeks are up, you will be. I’ll make certain of it.”

She lowers her eyes and says, “Thank you.” It’s a phrase she’s said to him numerous times before, and he’s always been struck by how sincere it seemed. This time it’s different. The words feel hollow, and that in itself makes Sukuna feel… annoyed? No, that’s not the right emotion. He’s not sure what it is, but it’s unpleasant. 

A few days later, the first meeting between his doll and the potential buyer occurs. The man is tall, well dressed, and (by Sukuna’s estimation) attractive for a man his age. He’s polite and soft spoken, having no reaction to the doll’s scars and acting as if he didn’t even notice them. In some ways, he reminds Sukuna of an older Nanami. 

The doll is polite in return, answering the man’s vague, noninvasive questions with a smile. 

But Sukuna enjoys stirring pots way too much to remain silent during the meeting, so he speaks up, addressing the buyer. 

“If you’re interested in a doll I’m training, you must be into some very specific things,” Sukuna says, a smile on his lips. “Are you more into torturing her, or just tying her up while you have your way with her?”

His doll looks shocked by the question, her face heating up in embarrassment. The buyer, however, looks calm and collected. “Oh, I dabble in things of that nature,” he says smoothly, “but only when it’s consensual and pleasing for both parties. I’m assuming a doll trained by you would be an enthusiastic enjoyer of such things.”

Sukuna’s smile fades. He doesn’t know why, but he finds this buyer irritating.

Once the meeting is over, he asks his doll what she thought of the man. 

“He seemed nice,” she says, though there is zero emotion in her voice as she says it. Her answer leaves Sukuna wondering what she really thinks, how she really feels. 

And that, in turn, leaves Sukuna wondering why he cares.

He decides to stop thinking about it. He has nearly two more weeks with her, and there’s so many fun and painful things he intends to do to her before she leaves. 

Tag List: 

@akaotv @khaleesihavilliard @issracollen @maflorex @dabislittlemouse @siriusdumblittlepuppy @collectionofdolls @butterskyy @missthatgirl

[heartfullofleeches]

A People Eater's Worse Nightmare

Yandere Parasite/Shapeshifter + G.N Reader blurb

Summary: They love you. What the fuck's wrong with them.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism

A nice big house. Large group of friends.

Yeah- this life was great.

Framed pictures of loved ones on the wall, freezer stocked full of meat. Beer cans on the coffee table and blood stains in the carpet. Such accomities made this place fitting to be their perfect home.

Shame they couldn't stick around.

[Hey, Dude! Last night was killer. You on for Sunday?]

The homeowner shoots a dismissive reply, sinking deeper into the revels of their catch present in the murky waters they reside. It was far too easy this time. A homebody with loose ties to numerous people turned the life of the party and friend group after a trip out of town. "Taking a new approach on life." And all that other horseshit that left people none the wiser to the horrors committed behind locked doors.

It was paradise, but too much of a good thing was bad for anyone's health. Getting to caught up in prey's daily life could make one sloppy. How people managed to miss those tiny spots of macroon in the rug or the smell that lingered was beyond them, but maybe that's just how primitive those claimed to be the top of the chain were. They needed to move ship, and fast.

A new message pops up on the screen, from a number simply marked with a heart.

[I had a really nice time with you last night. I hope we can meet up again soon.]

There it was. The other issue with being human. With how many lives they have under their belt, they've done this song and dance many times before. They've been married and divorced. Slept with numerous people in one night, and had committed friend with benefits deals. They could've made excuses for it all, but there was a side of them that longed for connect. An amalgamation of the feelings the one before them held and their own urges. There was many partners before this one and there would be plenty after.

So why can't they hit send?

[Hey, Y/n. Some stuff came up with my folks so I'll be out of town for a while. I'll hit you up when I get back.

A passage excuse. One that could potentially throw off their temporary mate if they were the type to overthink. For some reason, that got under their skin. Freaky. Maybe it's because they never managed to get them in the sack - or call them by their real name.

It's cool - By morning those feelings will be gone and they'll move onto the next. Just one more night and the homeowner would go back from social outcast turned devil worshipper - to a beast a little closer to home.

As their head sinks under the water, the homeowner just can't get that smile out of their head.

-

The parasite groans as it pull itself out of the bathtub. Hangovers were a bitch no matter what breed you were. It drags its heavy body off the floor and picks up the homeowner's phone. There's a missed message on screen. Their body suddenly feels lighter

[Hi. I saw you read my message, and I'm not trying to push things, but I wanted to invite you to breakfast if you were free.]

[Sure thing, Sweetheart. Just send me the locale]

The parasite hums to itself and it walks in front of the mirror, thinking about what to wear for its date with its partner. They open the cabinet to grab that perfume you said was nice on your second date-

What. What the fuck?

Ink slams the door shut; whiplash cracking the mirror. They stare at the exposed muscle structure of their skin, narrow eyes large as tennis balls. They - were themselves again, but they still as they did masquerading as that whiny little bitch. Their heart smiled in tune seeing that message, and their guts bubbled in anticipation for being beside the one to make them feel this way. They feel sick.

"What did you do to me. What did you do-"

Ink scrolls through the texts you've sent and photos you've taken together. You had to've done something. Poisoned them with some fucked up chemical. Snuck a part of yourself in their food to make them crave you so god damn bad.

Their search leaves them with nothing but a swollen heart and rage filled mind. They punch the mirror. Angry at the world, they still want nothing more than to see your disgustingly pretty face again.

"Fuck."

[piss-pumpkin]

💐Miscommunication and makeup

Older!dipper pines x reader (chapter 2)

~3.7k words

Prev master list

A/n: I tried hard to avoid gender coding in this chapter, feel free to give me notes idk how I did. Makeup is gender neutral I’ll die on that hill idc

When you woke, it was because of him. A gentle jostling beside you startling you awake. Your eyes were still practically sealed shut, a layer of crust keeping you from opening them. You furrowed your brow as you wiped it away, pressing your eyes tight together.

”Sorry, Y/n,” Dipper whispered. His voice was still hoarse. 

You could only groan in response, rubbing your eyes with such a force that you could see changing colours through the eyelids. As you lifted your head off his shoulder, you immediately felt a pain shoot through your neck.  Perhaps sleeping sitting up with a crooked head was not the most intelligent of ideas. “What time?” you asked groggily.

Dipper stumbled over you to get off the bed, nearly tripping over the edge in the process. Against the odds though, he found his phone. You watched as he tapped the screen, and recoiled slightly from the light.    “Eleven-ish.”

You nodded, and rolled your neck. Whenever it bent to the right you felt an intense cramp. Fun. Still sitting on the bed, head straightened against the headboard now, you looked up at him. “Are you getting up?” you sighed. You weren’t sure you wanted the answer. 

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “May as well.” 

Once again, you groaned. “Ugh, fine,” you said, squinting up at him in an almost sour expression. You rolled along out of bed, standing up with him, stretching. 

You started to walk to the door, and noticed Mabel was absent from her bed, and her sheets and blankets were in a pile at the foot. Messy, the same condition you’d left Dippers. He followed behind you, then branched off to stumble almost blindly into the bathroom while you went to find your toothbrush in your bag. Unfortunately, you’d left that bag in the living room, meaning you’d have to speak to people before you brushed your teeth, washed your face, or even truly woke up. 

There were jumbled voices from the kitchen. People were talking, yes, but it was too early to comprehend the words from another room. 

You followed the noise, and found… Pacifica. Her and Mabel were talking at the table.  

When they saw you, they had the same reaction. “Y/n!” They said, nearly in unison. They looked at each other after, mouths open, acknowledging the telepathy.

Pacifica pointed at you, “Y/n, I told you earlier so you better remember, my birthday party tomorrow.”

You thought a moment, then recalled. June twentieth was her birthday. The date had already past, you just missed it when you came here, but lucky for you the party wasn’t on the actual day. “Yes, of course, how could I forget,” you grumbled.

”Great, I’m reminding you that you’re all invited. And you better come early so I don’t have to talk to my parents friends all night.”

“Pacifica, who do you take us for, I personally would never let such a fate befall you.” It was mostly true. You knew how insufferable her family could be.

Dipper walked in behind you. “Oh, the party, right?” He was still groggy, his voice low from sleep, but he looked a lot more awake then he did moments earlier.

Pacifica laughed, “Yes, that.” She turned back to Mabel for a moment before addressing the room. “Just remember it’s a lot smaller then the big annual party you guys always go to, this one’s at my actual house.” She scoffed at herself, and folded her arms across her chest in something close to shame. “So temper your expectations.”

Of course. She lived in a McMansion rather then a full manor, which was incredibly embarrassing to rich people. So much so, that to hide the shame, her family rented out their old house from McGucket for their bigger parties. 

Dipper smiled, “All your family’s parties are huge, Pacifica.” You rolled you neck, again trying to shake the soreness as they spoke.

Pacifica snickered, “Any party worth going to would look huge to you people.”

Dipper shook his head, a smile on his face.

This was all well and good, but you were still sore and gross. “It’s true Dipper, you have no culture,” you said, walking out to go brush your teeth. You heard a faint agreement from Pacifica as you left.

                                              …

As you came back to the living room, you saw Dipper laying back in the chair. 

Dipper perked you as you entered the room. “Oh, hey, Y/n!” He approached you almost hesitantly, and rubbed the back of his neck, “I was meaning to ask you, uh, wanna go to Pacificas party with me, and like hangout and stuff?”

Your mouth fell slightly open in a smile. Was he serious? He was just going for it? Maybe asking you out? Perhaps? It seemed you were wrong in your assumption that he was a coward, maybe he had more balls then you. He was red in the face and fidgeting anxiously. You started to answer but-

“-A-as, uh, friends, of course”

Fuck. You waved your hand and tried to hide any trace of disappointment from your face. “Yeah, of course!” you smiled, “Who else would be my date, Mabel? You fucking know she’s gonna pick like, six hot guys to pine after… and Pacifica has to talk to all her parents friends for half the night, there’s no saving her from that.” 

Dipper laughed lightly, “hard not to feel bad for both of them.” He ran his fingers through his hair a moment, face still flushed. “A-anyway, I gotta go find Mabel,” he stuttered, “see if she’s… alive.”

You squinted, “alright then, go check that. I’m sure it’s… urgent.” 

Dipper nodded, “very.” With that, he left in a hurry, and started upstairs, nearly running.

                                            …

Mabel was leaving her room, having just finished looking through her bags for a party dress. Turns out she forgot to bring one, unfortunately for her. 

It was when she was at the top of the stairs that she saw her brother, red in the face and speed walking towards her, making vicious eye contact. “Ugh, Dip?” She started, but her Dippers glare silenced her. 

He grabbed her by the sleeve and whispered, “Mabel, I’m going to die.”

”Um,” Mabel said, unimpressed. “Okay.” She let him pull her away from the stairs, out of earshot. Mabel was having a time. She was being led by the sleeve by a quite sweaty Dipper into their room. He sat her down, and sighed. “Okay Mabel,” he started, “what I’m about to say can’t leave this room, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Right away, this was a tad suspicious. “Uh, that’s-“

”Listen man, you gotta,” Dipper said, starting to pace around the room. “You gotta swear not to tell- you know what?” He turned around and pointed at his sister, “swear on Waddles not to tell y/n, okay?”

Mabel’s eyes widened, and her brow lifted into a curious expression. “God damn dude, okay,” she said, holding out her pinkie for him to shake. He took it gladly, clearly satisfied with himself. “I’m intrigued now, what is it?” She tapped her feet on the ground with restless energy as she sat on her bed, and listened to Dipper.

”Mabel,” he rasped, sounding close to death. “I fucked up really bad, Mabel.” He was pacing around the room anxiously. He was walking in a circle at the centre of the room, and retraced the floor so many times Mabel wondered if his footprints would be embedded in it by the days end. “Mabel I think I’m going to die.”

Mabel couldn’t help smile, and laugh a small laugh. “Okay, my dear brother, do you want to elaborate? Take a deep breath or two and tell me why?” She clapped her hands together at her chin, and pointed at him with them. “Or are we just going to be doing this all day?”

Dipper sighed, and wiped his face. He dragged his hands down his cheeks, pulling and contorting his features as he did it. “I asked Y/n to the party thing,” he said, pupils shrunk and eyes wide. He pressed his hands back to his cheeks, and pushed firming inward, putting as much pressure on his face as possible.

Mabel, depose her brothers dread, gasped. “WHAT?” she yelled, kicking her feet faster, and punching the bed at her sides. “How is that a bad-“

”As a friend,” he said, cutting her off.

Mabels face fell, and she but he inside of her cheek. “Don’t get my hopes up like that again, Dip.”

Dipper shook his head, and waved his hands in front of him. “That’s not the worst of it, somehow,” he said, turning away and covering his face. “I was so awkward about it.”

Mabel looked quizzically at him, but stayed quiet to let him speak. 

“I started out trying to just ask them, not specific if as like, my date or not…” Dipper turned around, red in the face to look at Mabel. “And I did, I did do it. I walked up to them and asked them,” he said, shaking his head. 

Mabel still wasn’t sure how he could have fumbled it. She knew her brother wasn’t the most socially intelligent, but it seemed like he was doing well, according to his story. 

“But I backed out,” he said, hanging his head. “As soon as I said it, I got scared, and before they could even respond-“ Dipper took a deep breath, and threw his hands out in front of him, gesturing wildly to Mabel. “-I said just as friends though, and clammed up, and rushed away, embarrassing myself.”

Mabel winced. It appears her brother did fumble it. “Okay, that’s not great,” she started.

”No it is not.” Dipper paced faster, “And I didn’t even get a chance to see how they reacted, I was so in my head I got no data from this either.”

”Bro, don’t call it data,” Mabel sighed “that’s weird. But uh, yeah, that’s kinda cringe of you.” 

Dipper stopped in front of her, “Thanks Mabel, you’re helpful as always.”

Mabel laughed, and laid back in her bed. “Dude, what do I even say to that! I have nothing to contribute to this situation!”

Dipper sighed. “Yeah… neither would I. 

Mabel left that interaction with a smile. She felt the pity, the empathy, and the undeniable urge to make fun of him, which she decided to do at a later date. She still had to find or make a dress for the party, that came first. 

She was thinking about what to do. She did have money, she could buy a dress from the mall and have fun shopping… but at the same time making one could be fun. Or she could borrow one from Pacifica at a way higher quality… 

Mabel was too deep in the maze of these three conflicting thoughts which seemed to baffle her. So deep in thought that she did not notice you, zoning out in the living room. 

“Mabel!” You said, snapping your fingers to get her attention. “Mabel guess what interaction I just had, that I am mentally recovering from.”

Mabel perked right up, stopping in her tracks. She muttered just quiet enough for you to hear, but not understand, “I don’t think I have to guess.”

”What?” You said, leaning forward in the chair to better hear her. 

“What happened, I said,” Mabel lied, coming in closer. She sat down on the arm of the chair. 

“You know Pacificas party, yeah?” You looked up at her, with a tired and exasperated smile. She nodded down at you, wearing a smile of her own. A smirk though, a knowing one. “Well Dipper asked me to go with him, right?” 

You looked over at her, expecting a reaction. Mabel did her best to feign surprise, every bone in her body wanting to go back on her promise to Dipper. She resisted though, and let you tell the story.

”But before I can even say yes and be all smooth about it, he say just as friends. Ugh. Life,” you say, leaning your head back. “Just as friends, what to think of that.”

”Yikes,” Mabel said. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying more.

You took a deep breath, “I guess I should be flattered though, right? Cuz if he asked me as friends, then there’s nobody he wants to go with as more then friends, and I’m his first choice…” you looked over to Mabel, as if seeking confirmation in her big brown eyes. Much to your surprise, they have nothing away. 

Mabel could tell by a look that your mind was racing. 

“Oh god, or maybe he wants to go with me as friends cuz he’s to pussy to ask out somebody else he actually likes.” You whipped your head over to Mabel, your eyes wide with a thought you didn’t believe you were having for the first time. “Wait, do you think he could like Pacifica? Like I know she thinks he’s cute and has like, a thing for him, but… ugh he’d have a huge chance with her…”

Mabel bit her tongue. She did make a promise not to tell… but maybe she could suggest. “What if he likes you, but was too scared to ask you to be his date? Like that’s why he added the whole and friends thing after?”

You thought for a moment. “Hmm,” you thought aloud. “It’s a valid theory, but I’m not sure I like my odds.” 

Mabel sighed, “I think you’re odds are fine, honestly pretty good.”

”I see the possibility, I see the possibility,” you punched Mabel in the arm lightly. “Thanks, uh-“ you stuttered, not knowing if you had to say it. “A word of this to him and you’re dead.”

Mabel sighed, a small smile crossing her lips. “Yeah, I know the drill. Mabel was having a time, best friends with two of the largest idiots she knew.

                                            …

You were headed to Pacificas house, as she offered you free range of her family’s closet for the party. Mabel offered to make clothes with you, or go shopping, but this was easier. And Pacifica was a much busier person then Mabel, and you’d take most opportunities to hangout with her. 

The open road felt good, especially in gravity falls. In a small town like this, the roads were safe and easy, no highways and few mean drivers. Except you, on occasion.

Ford was in the passenger seat, nit picking. “Y/n, you forgot to shoulder check on that turn.”

”I really think that’s not true, actually, you just didn’t see.”

Ford laughed, “you tell the tester that when you go for your N and you’ll fail on the spot.”

You groaned, “Maybe the tester will see how well I shoulder check, and I won’t have to say that.” It was tough life only have a learners license. You were at the mercy of your driving teacher, who was unfortunately not Stan today. You got to break a lot more laws with Stan.

You pulled into Pacificas driveway, met by an impressive McMansion in front of you. It was nowhere near the size of the former Northwest manor, and Pacifica made sure you knew that, but it was still huge. Much larger then your home. Much larger then any home in your neighbourhood, or any other you’d been inside for that matter. 

You got out of the car, and Ford took the drivers seat. “I’d say your driving today was… adequate. It was fine, but you still need a lot of work.”

”I’ll take adequate, that’s still a win” you said, making a W with your hands as you walked backwards away.

”Well no, it’s a D+ grade,” Ford replied, “but I guess that’s a pass these days.” With that, he waved, and shut the door. With a wave back, you turned around to face the home.

The door had a fancy knocker, but you knew if Pacifica knew you thought that was cool, she’d say her old house had giant double doors. She was practically in love with one upping herself. You hit the knocker twice before trying the knob. It was of course, locked. Even though she was expecting you, she still had rich parents.

You heard a lock click, and then there she was. “Heyyy,” you said, stepping inside. You kicked off your shoes, and the floor was cold on your feet. 

“Heyyyy,” she said back. Her hair was pushed back in a thick and poofy hair band. “Come on, let’s have a fucking makeover montage,” she laughed, leading you to her room. Despite her claiming this was a poor person house, you had to ascend large and grand stairs in the foyer to get there.

As you got to Pacificas room, you went to flip down on her bed. Incredibly soft. “What do you mean makeover, I thought I was just getting clothes?”

Pacifica chuckled, and stared to open her walk-in closet, looking at shoes. “I thought that too, but then I had a second thought-“

”That’s impressive, for you,” you cut in.

”Ha, Ha,” she laughed sarcastically. “You say that like you’re any better.” She poked her head out of the closet to sneer at you, and you sneered back happily. “But I was thinking, why stop at clothes?” 

You sighed, and got up to follow her to the closet. “Well alright, what are you thinking then?” you asked, knowing whatever she had planned was inevitable. 

She beamed at you, “The full kit, colour matching, accessories, shoes, makeup, styling… if you want that is…” she trailed off at the end, but her eyes still held hope. As much as it seemed like a lot, why say no? What was the fun in that? 

“Alright, I’m game,” you nodded. As you did, Pacifica practically jumped. “I’m kinda indecisive though, so you lead?”

Pacifica nodded eagerly, “of course.” She bounded over to the clothing wracks and began to rifle through. “You have no idea how fun this will be for me, I love planning outfits for parties.”

”Consider this an extra birthday gift then, I guess. Go wild, I’ll wear whatever.” You followed her, and gazed at the array of fabrics.

She snickered, “in that case, I’ll even do a makeup look for you, all original…ish.” She was still staring at the clothes, looking up at them pondering. “For starters, are we thinking dress or suit, because I have both and both would look hot on you.”

That was a question you had to think very hard about.

As the night went on, she had you try shoes, jewels, and specifically colours to find the perfect combinations. And plus, it was incredibly nice to spend so much time with her, catching up and resuming your friendship after the school-year gap. She was still her. Still a little snobbish, but well meaning, and quite endearing. And for reasons unknown, Pacifica was good  like at this, and when she was done with the clothing and you looked in the mirror, you struggled to think of a time you looked better and it felt this natural. 

“Alright, now that that’s sorted,” Pacifica said, several hours after you started, “Makeup, if you’re still down.

You yawned, it was getting late. “Yeah, alright. Can I stay over?” 

Pacifica laughed, “need you ask? Of course!” 

“Alright, I’ll wash my face and text my aunt,” you said, going to her bathroom. She had some very high end looking facial cleansers. Your aunt Susan was very okay with it, the laid back woman she was. You made sure to thank her. You texted Dip too, letting him know you won’t be able to read with him… if he was even up. You didn’t linger on the phone long enough to see if he was.

Coming back, you were sat on her fancy couch, the kind with one armrest and wood carved legs. She sat at the vanity, looking through her makeup and hair products. “Alright… are you going to do the makeup now, and then again tomorrow for the party?”

”Yeah, I wouldn’t make you sleep in it.” She walked over with a handful of hair things and face things, too many for you to identify any individually. “Same with your hair. Think of today like the trial run, and tomorrow I’ll iron out any kinks… and probably get my makeup artist to do it for you.”

”You have a makeup artist?” you asked as she started to pick though what to do first.

”Yeah, I have to look professional, represent the family, you know.”

”The why get so good at doing it yourself?” She was already applying things to your face, and you didn’t question her methods.

”So I know what I want and what to ask for,” she said. “Like for you, I’ll take a picture of it and just show her, and she’ll do it better.”

You nodded instinctively.

”Hey, hold still!” Pacifica hissed. “I almost smudged shit.”

You hummed a quiet “Mmmhmm, sorry,” tiredly. The best part was when she did your eyeliner, because you got to close your eyes.

When she finished, you looked stunning. You couldn’t rub your eyes, but it was worth it. Pacifica made a few notes on what she did, and took a picture of your face. “Alright, we’re free. I’ll get you some makeup remover.”

”Mmm, thanks you.”

You laid your head back, and shook out the styling from your hair. It had some glitter in it, which fell on the sheets of Pacificas bed. You’d sweep that up later. 

Pacifica came back to find your head on one of her pillows. “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet, don’t get crusty.” 

“Fine,” you muttered. No crusty for you, and you had to be at the best for the party. You laughed to yourself. The best for a bunch of rich people, and your just as friends date. Tomorrow night was set to be interesting, at least. 

Next chapter

Hope I didn’t fem code the reader. Anyway. Pacifica is fun to write for me, I like to put her in whenever I can, even if as a character it’s likely she’d be pretty busy.