#he /cannot/ stand the thought of watching another person go from loving to hating him

[sluttysnowangel666]

The Wolf & The Wildling

Part 2 to The Woman Beyond the Wall, last part.

masterlist

Summary: One year after Cregan’s near death experience with the wildling woman he met, he returns beyond the wall to find and recruit her in hopes of fighting alongside him for Rhaenyra Targaryen at the start of the Dance of Dragons.

cw; smut af come on you know me, really rough cregan, overstimulation, bit of angst but a happy ending :3, talks of SA, childbirth, no use of Y/N but an x reader,

stop not me getting emotional at my own story bc i imagined the end of scott street by PB playing at the ending😭am i a cornball?? anyways, thank you to the anons in my asks for the inspo, i wasn’t even really sure how to continue this story, although i knew i wanted more for cregan and his wildling, you guys gave me the inspiration i needed to give them their ending! tag list: @rebeccawinters

Every day Cregan hadn’t gone back out there felt like another day wasted.

He struggled to do his duties, struggled to sleep, fight, listen, do anything that required attention from him.

And yet despite their rather harsh separation, Cregan still thought of her with every free moment he had. It didn’t help many lords were also insisting the Warden of the North marry a noble daughter. He knew he had to do his duty, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.

It had been so long since he’d seen her that he’d begun to forget his favorite parts about her. It felt as if her strange laugh no longer echoed in his mind, as if he could no longer envision her scarred yet still smoothed skin.

He had the dagger with him always. It was like keeping a piece of her with him. He remembered the pain so vividly, could still feel the throb in his shoulder if he thought about it too hard.

Yet, the ache was nothing compared to the painful thought that always seemed to stay in his mind.

Would he ever see her again?

He couldn’t help but wonder if the Gods had greater plans for them. He prayed that they did.

“My Lord.” A voice interrupted Cregan from his thoughts. He stood, turning to face the person. “A raven has arrived from Dragonstone.”

Cregan took the scroll from the maester, quickly opening it to reveal its contents. It was a letter from Rhaenyra Targaryen. She was sending her son in hopes of gaining the support of the North, and requested Cregan have an audience with her heir, Jacaerys.

He would have to return to the Wall.

He hadn’t returned, much to the dismay of the Nights Watch, since he had nearly died from his wildling’s arrows. Even the thought of going near the Wall made his heart skip a beat. She would be so close, yet so far. He knew he could no longer avoid the wall. His duty to the men there was dire, and he had let his own fears get in the way of that.

As for his lover, he wasn’t even sure she still wanted him. As far as he knew, she hated him; she wanted to put an arrow through his eye, his dagger through his chest. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to see her again. No lady had ever compared to her. He had found his other half, and now felt empty without her.

If he did find her, what would he even do? They were bonded by love, yet separated by more than a Wall.

The separation would soon not matter anymore.

Winter is coming.

———

A fortnight later

Castle Black

Cregan had welcomed the prince to Winterfell, then accompanied him to the Wall.

The young men walked, discussing terms of Cregan’s service.

“In winter, my duty to the Wall is even more dire than the one I owe to King’s Landing. I need my men here.” Cregan says to his prince.

“Whilst your men guard against wildlings and weather,” Cregan twitched at the word wildling. “the Hightowers plan to usurp the throne. If my mother is to defend her claim to hold the realm united, she needs an army. War is coming, to the whole of the realm my lord. We cannot wage it without the support of the North.”

Jacaerys trails off, standing against the guard that overlooked the entire outside of the Wall.

“My father brought King Jahaerys and Queen Alyssane to see the wall. His Grace stood at this very outlook and watched as their dragons, the greatest power in the world, refused to cross… Do you think my ancestors built a 700 foot wall of ice to keep out snow and savages?”

“What does it keep out?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan finally looks beyond the Wall for the first time in a year, his mind thinking of her for a brief moment, and then the darkness that lies beyond it. “Death.”

“I have thousands of graybeards who have already seen too many winters. They are… wellhoned. I can ready them to march at once.”

“If your graybeards can fight, the queen will have them.”

“They’ll fight hard.” Cregan says, his mind once again thinking of his love as he says his next words. “Like Northerners.”

Jacaerys senses something; more words that the Warden of the North wished to speak.

“Is there something else you can offer us, My Lord?” Jacaerys asks.

Cregan hesitates. “There is a woman…” He looks. beyond the wall again. “She is fierce, deadly with a bow. If I can find her… I can ask her to lead the graybeards into war.”

“Should she accept, my mother will be more than pleased to have her.” Jacaerys asks.

“My Lord!” Cregan turns, “A raven has arrived… Urgent news from Dragstone.”

Cregan looks at the man holding the scroll, who holds a sight of worry on his face. Cregan quickly opens the scroll, reading its contents.

Cregan looks at the prince, and Jacaerys tries reading the man’s stoic features.

All Cregan can do is hand Jacaerys the scroll, and let him read for himself.

———

Another fortnight passed following the news of the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Jacaerys had left the Wall at once to return to Dragonstone, whilst Cregan began to prepare his graybeards to march.

“My Lord, why must you go back beyond the Wall? The graybeards do not need a leader. I do not think it wise to let them be lead by a woman beyond the Wall, let alone the one who killed the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.” His maester tells him, worried of how the people of Winterfell and the men on the Wall will react.

“They will not know she’s a wildling. Tis’ not important information. All they need to know is she will lead them well into battle. I trust you’ll keep this information I’ve shared with you private, Maester Windell.”

“Of course, My Lord. You can count on my discretion, always, but I fear wonder if this journey is for more than a leader.”

Cregan stops his packing, not wanting to share more information than he already has with his maester. “No, maester. I only am going to help the Queen. I will be back shortly, with or without the wildling. Winter is coming, and I will not get lost beyond the Wall.”

The maester didn’t argue, so Cregan made his fortnight journey back to the Wall, and then beyond it.

He felt fear when his horse took its first steps onto the icy tundra outside the Wall’s gate. He feared he would not find her, feared she may have died, feared she would kill him before he got to kiss her one last time.

The late summer snow was not too harsh yet, but Cregan knew he did not have long to find her before Winter came.

He searched for days for her.

He returned to the spot where he first set up camp, finding the bark where he had carved a dire wolf had been completely torn and shredded by a knife.

When he returned to the cave it was dark, and no trace of her had been left behind. It made it feel like the moments they shared in there never happened.

He felt lost. He set up his camp in the cave, but she had not snuck to it during the night like last time. If she had, she truly left no trace. But, he knew he hadn’t felt her yet. She wasn’t there.

2 weeks into the journey, he had dreamt of her.

He dreamt he was a wolf, hunting, when he finally saw her.

She was sleeping, ever so soundly, beneath a bright red weirwood. He growled at her, and she awoke quickly, immediately grabbing and aiming her bow at him.

She gasped quickly, catching her breath as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

She released the arrow into his eye, and he awoke.

He was sweating despite the cold, and the burning feeling in his eye was lingering.

He rubbed it softly, but then directed his attention back to her in the dream. It was really her. She looked different. She looked stronger somehow, and her hair had grown greatly. She had it in a long, thick braid. There were bags under her eyes, like she had been exhausted from something.

He stood and exited the cave. The sun was slowly rising, but there was a blue hue that made the snow on the ground glisten. He closed his eyes, stretched, and yawned when he heard a sound.

It was a familiar sound… the sound of a bow string being pulled tightly.

He lowered his arms from his stretch, and opened his eyes.

There she was.

There she was.

She knelt on one knee, aiming her arrow at his eye. Her eyes burnt with a fire that he’d never seen, her breathing was quick and angry, her lips turned in a sad scowl, she was fueled with adrenaline.

He smiled, laughing softly. He couldn’t believe she was here. She pulled the string tighter at his sweet smile, her heart breaking at seeing him truly here.

He took a hesitant step towards her, but stopped.

A soft whining sound came from her back.

His smile faded.

She lowered her bow slowly, eventually dropping it completely. She had a fabric diagonal across her body. She moved it underneath her arm, and then twisted it around her body.

Her hands gently found and cradled the babe.

Cregan gasped. He couldn’t believe it.

She softly hushed the babe, tracing her fingers over its face. She whispered soft, comforting words to it. The babe made gentle little noises.

“Is that…” His voice was barely above a whisper. She looked at him solemnly. His hand covered his mouth.

“This is your son, Cregan.” She finally spoke. Her voice was smooth and melodic, different from how he heard her last time. He stepped towards her, falling to his knees. His whole body was shaking, and not from the cold.

“Does he have a name?” He asks, holding his arms out, hoping she’d trust him enough to hold his son.

She nervously hands him his child, fearful he might take her little babe, her only piece of Cregan, and never return again.

“No.” She says. “I only birthed him a moon ago.”

Cregan can’t hold it in anymore, and begins sobbing. All of his emotions pent up from the last year pour out. He holds the babe close to his chest, sobbing relentlessly.

He’d missed her so greatly this past year and now seeing her here, alone with this little babe, he’d realized how badly he erred. He wasn’t there to comfort her, hold her, help her. She had suffered it all alone.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

She stares at him, her face unwavering. She was so angry. She wanted to kill him so bad, to take back her babe and cut his throat.

But, she couldn’t.

He’d broken her heart in such an unimaginable way. She’d cried over him for weeks, and when her blood hadn’t came she knew the worst had happened. But now he was here, holding their babe and sobbing like a child. She didn’t even know Cregan was capable of such emotions. She didn’t truly know him, and he didn’t truly know her.

Her hand found its way to his broad shoulder to try to comfort him. Her other hand moved to cradle his cheek. He rested his face into her hand, spilling wet tears on her.

“Oh, Cregan.” She whispered, wiping the never ending tears from his cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his, hushing him like she did their babe. She wrapped her other arm around him, bringing her warm body against his while still being careful of their infant.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I should not have left you. I should have killed those men and brought you home-“

“Sh, sh, Cregan.” She whispers again. “I’m yours, as you are mine.”

Her words send him back into tears. She presses soft kisses to the tears on his cheek, weaving her fingers in his curls that she desperately missed.

“Where have you been?” He asks, minutes after calming down. “I’ve searched these whole damn woods for you.”

She smiles softly, “You think I don’t know that?” He smiles. “Why did you come back here, Cregan?”

He looks down at their sleeping babe, then back at her. “I’ve wanted to come back every day since I have been apart from you… But, I couldn’t find the strength. I regret it more than anything. I regret leaving you, I regret not coming sooner, I-“

She cuts him off, placing her warm lips onto his. Not breaking the kiss, her hands take the babe from him, setting him aside next to them.

“What are you-“

She slaps him across the face, with such a strong hand that he can’t help but stop and look back at her in total shock. She pulls his lips back into her, confusing him with her back and forth attitude. “If you ever leave me again, I really will put an arrow through your eye.”

He smirks, pulling her back into him with his strength. “Now we’re even.” She whispers.

“We were even when you nearly killed me last year.” He says, she growls at him, but they continue kissing. “I wear these scars with honor.”

She tears into his soft clothes, “Take him inside, and then come back out here and make me yours again.”

He pulls away with haste, grabbing his babe gently and walking back into the cave. She follows, right on his heels. He finds a safe spot for their babe, setting the sleeping child down.

He turns, grabbing her by the neck and kissing her, pushing her backwards out to the cold.

“Be gentle with me.” She whispers into his lips.

“No.” Cregan says, ripping off her furs and throwing them on the ground. She smirks, not wanting him to anyway.

He grabs her by her hair and she shrieks. He pushes her down to her knees, and she sits in the cold snow once again. He unlaces his breeches, and she quickly tugs them down with his soft clothes.

She presses her cold fingers onto his pelvis, and she places gentle kisses along his length. She looks up at him with her big, doe eyes. He pulls her head back by her hair again and she gasps. He pushes himself into her mouth, immediately groaning at her warm tongue. She moans around him, placing her hand at what she can’t fit in her mouth. He grabs both sides of her face, thrusting his hips into her mouth, not realizing his roughness. He had missed her so much, and he was so lost in the pleasure of her mouth.

She gagged repeatedly, her eyes flowing with tears. Her free hand rested on his toned stomach for balance, and she scratched her nails into him from time to time.

He pulled her head back with a pop of her lips, and looked down at the little mess before him. Her cheeks were stained with tears, drool spilling from her lips, her thighs rubbing together to relieve the tension between her legs.

He pushed her back into the snow and got on his knees, placing himself between her legs. He wrapped his hand around her throat again, rubbing his fingers at the wetness between her legs.

“You’ve missed me?” He asks.

“I’ve missed that cock.” She teases.

“Don’t worry. There won’t be much to miss soon.” He presses a harsh kiss to her lips, sliding himself into her. She gasps into his lips, trying to pull away to cry out, but he refuses to let her go. He pulls one of her legs to his chest to give him a deeper angle and she whines into his lips. He starts thrusting, fast and harsh, into her healing cunt. His hand moves from her throat to her breast, now round and large with milk than the last time he’d had her.

“Cregan!” She cries out loudly, finally breaking free from his lips. She throws her head back into ecstasy, her hair becoming wet from the snow. Cregan moans loudly, his thrusts sloppy and quick.

“I’m putting another babe in you.” He moans, forgetting why he was there to retrieve her in the first place.

“I’ll fucking kill you.” She says, slapping him across the face. He looks at her angrily, a wolf awakening inside him. He grabs her face, his fingers digging into her cheeks as he fucks her harshly and angrily.

“I’m gonna cum.” She whines, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Don’t.” He says. She gasps, begging and pleading for her release. He slows his thrust, leaving her in agony. She bucks her hips towards him, but he pushes them down, locking her in place with his strong arm.

“I fucking hate you.” She moans.

“Cum for me then, and we can see if that is how you feel for me after.” His thrusts go back to their fast, sloppy pace, and she moans. Her hands grab his wrist, clawing her nails into his forearm.

She hits her peak and moans his name repeatedly. Her fingers dig into the snow again, the other hand digging into his arm. He growls, not stopping and continuing to thrust.

“Stop it.” She whispers, her body shaking at the sensitivity. Cregan doesn’t listen, only maintaining his harsh pace. He lifts both of her legs to his chest, his length touching her womb. “Please, Cregan, fuck!” She whines, tears spilling from her eyes at the overstimulation.

Her fists hit his chest, and yet he continues. She slaps him across the face, over and over again, and he still continues, his face stoic, desperate for nothing more than to see her writhing beneath him.

She sobs as she cums on him again, slapping and hitting him harshly. Her body is a trembling mess, peaking with pleasure and pain. Finally satisfied, he lets his own peak wash over him, filling her to the brim with his seed again, right against her womb. He rests over her, moaning and biting her neck, despite her nails scratching and drawing blood against his neck.

“Cunt.” She moans into his shoulder, holding him tightly against her shaking body. He pulls out, gently, allowing her to rest before he carries her back into the cave, stepping into the hot spring with her in his arms.

She rests against him, and it’s as if they had never been apart. He looks over at their sleeping babe on the ground, smiling gently. He looks back down at his love, his smile fading.

“There is a war brewing in Westeros.” He finally tells her.

“What for this time?” She asks, drawing little shapes on his chest, not seeming to really care about his answer.

He decides to wait to tell her, instead wanting to enjoy the moment with her.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you… before I left.” He says. She sighs.

“Cregan… Do you wish to know why I killed the Lord Commander?”

He looks down at her, confused. He assumed her only reason was she hated crows. She looks up at him.

“Why?” He asks.

She waits before explaining. “He’d come out there before with some of his men. They often hunted wildlings for fun. They’d tell the men back at the wall it was for a hunting exhibition, but really… They were tired of the women from some place called Mole’s Town.”

Cregan was still confused.

“That was years ago, when I was in a tribe… But, the crows just kept coming back… And our tribe refused to leave, because our ancestors had settled there hundreds of years before.” She pauses, “The Lord Commander always said I was his favorite… I left eventually. Turns out I’m safer alone. That’s when I started killing crows.”

Cregan realized he was gripping her arm too tightly, and loosened his hold. What she said changed everything. Men were coming beyond the Wall to force themselves on wildling women. He wanted to be sick. Cregan’s last words to her before he left… that he would kill her for what she did.

Anger ignited inside him, but there was nothing he could do. The Lord Commander was dead, she got her revenge. But, the thought of that happening to her, the words he spoke before he left her alone. It was too much.

She noticed his tension, and placed her hand on his cheek. “My wolf.” She whispered. He closed his eyes and turned away from her touch.

“I’ve failed you… Again, and again, and again.” He says, tears spilling from his eyes.

She straddles him, forcing him to look at her. “Aye. You have.” He looks at her, not expecting brr bluntness. She wipes his tears. “But you’re still mine, Cregan Stark… and I’m not perfect either.”

He presses a soft kiss to her lips, wrapping his arms around her.

“So, what were you saying about the war?” She asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

“There is a war forming between the dragons. It is growing more and more dire.”

“Dragons?” She asked. “Like in the stories?”

“Aye, my lady. Except these are no stories. The dragons are dancing, and the North must stand ready to fight with the true Queen.”

“Queen?” She asks. “Aren’t you King in the North?”

“No, my love. Starks bent the knee over a century ago.”

She leans back to look at him. “Bend the knee to me.”

“I do every time I stick my cock in you.” She laughs, a sweet and gentle laugh, no longer the chaotic one she used to do.

“You’re different.” He says, a smile on his face.

“I am a mother now. My child has softened my witch heart.” She jests.

Mother. The mother to his child, specifically. He couldn’t ask her to lead the gray beards no longer. She needed to return to Winterfell with him to raise their son. His smile fades and she notices.

“You’re different.” She repeats his words. “Why did you come? Truly?”

“You are a warrior… and the North must stand ready.” He looks at her, his eyes worried.

“You… You want me to fight?” She asks, stepping off him and standing. The water stops at her hips, and he tries hard to keep his attention focused on her face. “Just a moon after I nearly died pushing out your fat little babe?”

“No, no, my lady. I do not want you fighting no longer.” He looks at her, taking her hands in his. “I want you to come home… with me. To Winterfell.”

“My home is the North.” She says, taking her hand away.

“No, no.” He stands, resting his hands on her arms. He looks over at their sleeping son. “He changes everything.”

His son would be considered a bastard, by all traits, but he was his son nonetheless. He would raise him as a Stark… as his heir to Winterfell.

“Home is not a place.” Cregan says. “A home is what you make it… My place may be in Winterfell, but it is not my home if you and my son are not with me.”

She sighs. “I’m no lady, Cregan.”

“I know… and I don’t care.”

“I will not watch you marry a noble while I am your whore that you force to work in your castle and fuck at night.”

“I would never ask that of you.” Cregan says, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. “Starks are honorable men. You will be my wife, and my son will be my heir. I will kill any man who ever dares harm you again.”

She stares at him as he continues. “I needed an excuse to come back out here… If I told them I came out here to get you to lead the Northern army, then it raised less suspicion. But, I care no longer. I only care about you.”

“What if I say no? That I won’t join you?” She asks.

“Then I would accept.” He looks at his son. “All I ask is you let me bring him.”

She looks at their son. Cregan continues. “He will never know a cold night, he will learn to fight among men, he’ll have a full belly every time he goes to sleep, he’ll be respected by all those around him… and if you came, so would you.”

She looks back at Cregan. “He will join you.”

Cregan closes his eyes, her hand resting against his cheeks.

“As will I.” He opens them to look at her again.

“Truly?” She nods. He laughs, breathlessly, pulling her in for a deep hug. His fingers weave into her hair, holding her tightly against his chest.

“I will fight for you as well.” He pulled away to look at her.

“No.” He says. “No, I need you with me at Winterfell.”

“Cregan… A queen! You honor me, choosing me to lead your Northern army.”

“I don’t want you to.” He says. “What of our son? You could be gone for years… You could not return.”

She laughs, “My Lord Stark… You’d be a bloody fool to think any man could kill me.”

“This is hardly a war between men, my girl. This is a war between dragons, and none will ever be so bloody.”

“Cregan… I am of the free folk, which means I will always be free. Being free means I have the choice to fight for you… and for a Queen.”

———

Cregan returned to Winterfell a week later, carrying his babe in his arms on his horse, with a wilding woman behind him.

His maester was bewildered at the sight before him. “My Lord… Who is this babe you carry?”

“Maester, this is my son and this woman here is his mother… and my betrothed. She will be leading the graybeards in the war. Call upon wet nurses and maids to help foster our son while she is gone.”

“A-At once, My Lord.” The maester stumbled over his words, giving the wildling one last look before going to do his task.

Later that night, her and Cregan sat in his chambers. His lover couldn’t help but explore and ask questions about everything in the castle.

“What is this?”

“A pen and paper.”

“What does it do?”

“Well, you tell the maester a message and then he writes it down and gives it to a raven to send off.”

“And this?”

“A tub.”

“What does it do?”

“Bathes you.” It went on like this for hours, but he didn’t care. He was glad to share with her his way of life. Her naiveness at noble life was sweet.

When they cuddled up in his furs in their now shared bed, she laughed with giddiness. “Ask them to bring more.”

“My love, you’re under four bear pelts and the hearth is at full flame, you’re going to get hot.”

“Hot?”

“Warm, my girl. Too warm.”

“I don’t care. This is all so exquisite. You should’ve brought me here much sooner, you know.”

Cregan simply smiled, looking down at their son in his arms. “Did you have any names in mind for him?”

She hums, resting on her elbow to face them. “Cregan is quite a handsome name.”

“We can name give him a Stark name if you like mine.”

“Like what?”

“How about… Benjen Stark.”

“Benjen.” She whispered, sitting up and touching her son’s dark locks. “I love it.”

Her and Cregan locked eyes, staring at each other in silence. “You don’t have to go, my love.”

“I do.” She says, cradling Cregan’s cheek.

“I wish to marry you, make you Lady Stark of Winterfell.”

“I will be your… Lady… when I return.” She says, unsure of the proper term to use.

He laughs, “Wife. You will be my wife. I can have the maester teach you to read and write upon your return.”

“Truly?” She asks. “Like stories?”

“Stories, history, anything my betrothed wishes to read she can.”

“Betrothed?”

“It means we’re to be wed, at some point.”

She presses her forehead to Cregan’s. “I can’t believe I am here.”

“Neither can I, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to her lips, and they fell asleep like that, Benjen full and warm in his father’s arms.

Cregan and his love were only able to share a few nights together before it was time for her to march with the graybeards.

“You are strong, my lady. Command these men like you did me, and they’ll follow you anywhere.”

Cregan lifted her onto her horse, and she nervously settled into the saddle. He stepped onto his own, Benjen tightly secured to his chest as the babe was to his mother when Cregan stumbled back upon them.

She took her hand in his, and he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Come back safe to me, my girl.”

She smirked, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to kill some Southerners.”

“Goodbye, my sweet boy.” She says, touching Benjen’s hair one last time.

“Take care of our son, Cregan.” He nodded, tears welling in his eyes.

“I have a gift for you before you go.”

His master at arms came to him, handing him the freshly made dire wolf crest. He pinned it on her chest, and she looked down, tracing her fingers over the craftsman ship.

“You are a Stark… from this day, until your last day.” He said. She looked at Cregan, pride in her face.

“I’ll make you proud, my Lord Stark.”

He handed her the dagger, the very thing that brought them together. “I know you will.”

With that, she turned and slowly began to leave with her horse.

She turned to look back at them. “By the way, I killed your horse last year.”

Cregan’s smile faded, but then she laughed, and he couldn’t help but laugh too. She turned back around, and he looked down at his son, his beautiful little pup. The babe’s big gray eyes staring back at the ones he inherited from his father.

Cregan rode the opposite direction from her. He turned again to look at her one last time, and she turned to look at him too.

He smiled at her, letting the tears fall. She smiled back. He watched her ride the opposite way, and she watched him as he rode back to Winterfell until they could no longer see each other.

He would miss her greatly, but he knew she would return. This parting would not be forever, for they knew that they were bonded by love, seperated by only distance this time. No wall, no duty, no pain would ever come between them again.

He couldn’t wait for her to get back to them so they could start their life together.

Forever.

[angelstate]

“Unprioritized Love”

Husband!Price x Wife!Reader

Price is a loyal person, he thinks about everyone else before himself and doesn’t hesitate to do something he normally would be against if it means saving the people he cares for, it truly is a blessing at times, the way his priorities don’t falter…until they do.

because he is a loyal person but does not know or pretends not to know in which situations he should stand by one person instead of the other, it’s conflicting for him to choose someone when another person is also expecting his support.

it hurts a lot when you’re caught in that sort of situation with him, you’re his lover, his companion in life, and the person he returns home to, but you’re also the person he leaves behind for his team, you’re the one who waits around for him while the team gets him almost all the time.

and you know jealousy isn’t healthy, that you shouldn’t resent anyone because it's his job, he has to leave to provide for you, you cannot bite the hand that feeds you, it would be wrong, it wouldn’t be pretty, it wouldn’t be fair for him.

so you bite your tongue and nod like a child when he tells you about his job, about him going away once more, for longer this time. and the tears in your eyes are hard to be held back, because God, it hurts a lot to be left behind, all by yourself. away from your family and your lover, only an empty home to satisfy your basic needs.

He doesn’t mean to be an absent presence, the lack of a lover in your life. He truly doesn’t mean to give so little to you, to not hold you every night. but between his job and you…he knows which one he isn’t choosing even if he doesn’t say it out loud. 

“I'll be back when I can, alright?” he speaks, voice gruff as he looks around the room, his hands on his hips, you stay seated on the couch, knees close to your chest and your eyes glued to the TV for a distraction, is better to pretend you don’t care than to show him how much you are beginning to hate the dynamic he created in your life.

“mhm” you hum in agreement, taking a big breath and holding it in before exhaling through your nose, not trusting that if you open your mouth, a sob wouldn’t escape, Price notices the lack of words from your part, you always have something to say, a small joke to make about him better bringing you a souvenir or something from his “trip” but when this time you don’t speak or even dare to look at him makes him anxious.

“Want me to bring you something?” he asks, taking a few steps towards you, looking towards the TV, a baking program playing, and your focus on the show makes him raise an eyebrow, you aren’t one to enjoy cooking so he doesn't understand why you’re watching it. 

“no thanks” you respond, and the answer makes him feel like he’s done something wrong that made you upset, the last 4 days he’s been home replaying in his mind, trying to remember what could’ve made you get angry with him, nothing comes to mind sadly, and he feels clueless about everything surrounding you. 

“I thought you don’t like cooking” He decides to comment, shifting the conversation to something more banal and easy to speak about. “I started baking almost 8 months ago” you answer him back, voice flat and your eyes strained on the TV, the recipe to make pavlova having your main focus, it makes Price frustrated, how you won’t look at him, won’t give him the time of day when he’s leaving tomorrow.

you don’t expect him to know how your life develops and the things that change when he's away most of the time, it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to pay you attention when he already has a tough and complicated job to do, his salary pays for the kitchen supplies and food after all. it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to know you... god, how stupid is that?

“You didn’t tell me” Price states, his voice carrying a heaviness that reveals he is irritated about not being told something he should’ve known if he paid attention to the new things in the kitchen like the stand mixer next to the electric oven. 

“I thought I mentioned it when I gave you to try the brownies I made yesterday” you retort, your eyes landing on him for a second before returning to the TV, your gaze isn’t welcoming or warm and it creates a pit on his stomach to see you so detached and unresponsive to something he knew should make you upset.

It brings a sort of heaviness to his chest as he notices he doesn’t have the right to feel offended about not being told something when you should be upset about him not noticing in the first place something that occurred in his own home. It is hypocritical and he knows it.

Price stays silent for a long time, the sound of the TV filling in the silence that was created between the two of you, he feels out of place, not knowing how to answer you, what to do, what is the problem he feels he should be fixing right now.

“you should start packing” you comment after almost five minutes, and that phrase is said with a monotone tone, not one of sadness or a little bit of frustration that he’s leaving again, it's a tone that just states the obvious, you declare that he should pack his bag once more because otherwise he would leave with nothing for his mission and that wouldn’t be optimal.

“Can you help me pack?” He asks for a favor you often offer without him mentioning wanting your help. tonight you don’t offer assistance, almost like you aren’t faced by his departure, used to his absence, used to his side of the bed being empty.

“I’m watching TV” you speak and his heart breaks a little bit, you don’t sound apologetic as you often do when you’re not able to help him, and he’s leaving but he feels you left instead, that the girl he married is no longer in the house even though he has you in front of him, too focused on looking at the tv to help him.

he nods at your answer and doesn’t try to persuade you into doing something you don’t want to, it wouldn’t be fair to force you to help him just because he wants you to, it isn’t fair for you to give a hand and for him to take your arm. Loving someone isn’t really fair.

Only when he leaves the living room to go pack do your tears make their way out of your eyes, running down your cheeks as you cry silently, vision too blurry to even distinguish the images on the TV, it feels almost pathetic to be crying alone, your lover packing to leave and not be able to bring yourself to help him abandon you once again.

If you were his pet it would be abuse for him to just leave, but you're a woman and therefore being alone and left behind isn’t unexpected, being the one to stay home is almost an obligation when your lover leaves to provide for you even if you wish they stayed.

you’re not sure how it begins to be fair to be put in this situation, when the missions of 4 weeks turned into 4 months. When knowing everything about each other turned into barely remembering anniversaries and birthdays.

You don’t want to say the relationship fell apart because you doubt there’s anything at all to be destroyed anymore, you love him though, the pain in your chest and the tears falling from your eyes are proof of that, but you are not sure John loves you.

It’s uncertain how he views you after not spending time together for almost two years, you doubt there is nothing more than just an acknowledgment of your existence in his life, a statement that he knows you're his partner but not enough love to call you his lover.

“Why are you crying darling?” the sudden voice of Price pulls you out of your thoughts, the place next to you on the couch sinking as he takes a sit beside you, resting his elbows on his knees while his eyes examine your expression, you look utterly distraught about something, your breathing uneven and shaky as you begin to sob loudly, unable to talk as all your emotions came crashing down.

and the sight of you crying, digging your nails into your thighs, and being desperate for a peace that will not come, makes a heavy feeling of guilt and worry sit on his shoulders, wrapping an arm around your waist and another under your knees, bringing you into his lap and putting your face on the crook of his neck while you cried, sobs muffled against his skin, your tears wetting his shirt.

“take a deep breath love” Price says in your ear, your breathing so erratic that it makes him worried you will suffocate at some point because of the lack of oxygen in your body, he feels your chest against him as you do as he told you, taking deep breaths the best you can, trying to calm down for your and his sake.

you’ve never been one to cry with so much despair, to need his comfort in times of need because you managed well on your own, he was never around to solve your sorrow either so why bother? But today, he is the reason you're crying and it seems fair that he is the one to comfort you, that your only chore is to cry and keep your breathing somewhat stable while he does everything else to fix what he broke.

He doesn't know where to begin though, unaware of where he stands or what he should do to bring peace into your mind, what words will fix his mistake, and what words will tear you apart even more, he doesn’t want to cause you harm, not consciously, not right now. it wouldn’t be fair to you, it wouldn’t be fair to your heart, it would be cruel. and he doesn’t want to be cruel to you, not anymore.

“I’m sorry love…I should’ve been good to you” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, rocking you back and forth on his lap, soothing you like he would to a child, his voice low and soft, his hand caressing your thighs in a comforting manner. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t notice that you started baking, it was wrong, I didn’t notice you when I should’ve noticed every change you’ve had over the last two years” he continuous, speaking out the guilt he carried in his chest the moment he saw you and heard you break down into tears, your sobs engraved in his mind.

“I’m really sorry for missing out on all of this when I was gone, I shouldn’t have been such a bad husband, you don’t deserve that” he sighs, his eyes stinting a little bit from the tears beginning to form, and your calmer now, sniffling and whimpering, the tears slowly stopping, but it seems that your distraught was transferred to him because he doesn’t feel at ease, he feels the guilt eat him alive while he soothes you.

“I don't want you to leave…” you mumble, adjusting on his lap, your head resting against his chest, you have never wanted him to leave home, to go on missions for months on end with little to no contact with your lover, it feels like you're mourning him every time he goes away and doesn’t give you a small message to let you know he wasn’t killed.

“I know sweet girl” he replies, he doesn’t want to leave either, he never wants to, even though he continues to do so. It's a complicated situation, one he doesn’t dare to think about too much because he’ll end up ripping his heart out, his loyalty not being able to distribute equally for you and his team, always the latter winning even if he doesn’t dare to admit it.

he wants to promise you he’ll return quickly this time and will take a leave just to spend time with you, to dedicate more time to what's left of your relationship, he doesn’t want your marriage to fail, you’re the only woman he wants, the only one he had ever seen himself grow old together, he doesn’t want to let that go because of his own stupid and selfish mistakes.

He has to leave tomorrow, but when he’s back he’ll fix everything.

“I'll be back soon” he mumbles against your hair, face buried in it as breathes in your smell, trying to engrave it in his mind, to not forget this time details about you he has always loved. 

Thankfully, his promise becomes reality, and after two weeks of loneliness that have never felt heavier on your chest, he returns, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile on his lips, happy to see you, to see the warmth and loving gaze you always give him back in your eyes after all this time.

He steps through the door, your face pressed against his chest, refusing to let go of him, fearing he would leave even if it wasn’t unreasonable, he had returned early for you, he had seen his mistakes and was fixing what never should’ve been broken

Peace is restored in your home, love is flourishing once again in your marriage, and whatever plans you had made to start over get discarded, you’re already having a fresh start, one that doesn’t involve leaving your lover. this time is a start with a more conscious man who is ready to do everything right by you, to never let his job affect the way he loves you. He's learning that his wife comes first, that his life outside of the military also has the same and more importance than his job.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you want me to write something specific xx)

[haechansdoll]

my little doll - ml x reader

Pairing : Boxer!Lee Mark x f!Reader

Description : Humans have hormones, you understand that much. But does that explain why you can't stop the filthy daydreams that fill your head whenever you see a specific redhead? Does it excuse you for getting turned on by him simply breathing in your direction? And to make matters worse, he is off-limits, if your father found out you were messing with his prized boxer? You would be chained to a tower and your red-haired crush would be used as mincemeat.

Warnings : Bloody Nose, Perversion, Dom/Sub, Power Play, Panties, Caught Having Sex, Overstimulation

Wordcount : 20k

Hormones.

You dearly hate them, you hate how your chest does somersaults at the mere sight of him, or the fact you have to cross your legs when his voice tickles your ear, let alone the mocking sensation of arousal that forever plagues your core at the sweet little pet names he sure loves giving you. From the crimson red hair that falls over his shoulders, typically pulled back with a loose-fitting clip, a matching pair of eyes that have this undeniable sultry and charming glint to them, or the scars from broken bones or other mishaps he has yet to give you a story about that stick to his powerful arms and mesmerizing torso.

If anyone were to find out about the things that run through your head, the lewd imagery, the erotic scenarios... you would never be able to show your face again. It's normal to have less-than-pure thoughts, right? You're no less human than the next person, everyone has desires and fantasies!

But does that excuse the fact you've desperately been waiting for any chance you can get to go and relieve yourself? That the more you stare at him, the more you think about how good he may be in bed? His muscles flexing with each thrust, imagining the length and girth of his cock, would his voice be gruff or husky?

The recollection of your inner desires has you aching, it is humiliating, to say the least. Especially when the man who is the center of these very thoughts just so happens to be standing behind you, one hand on your shoulder, the other guiding your wrist. The close proximity has you feeling sick, between his voice right beside your ear and his hands on your arm.

To be honest, aren't you sick? Pretty sick in the head to be lewding Mark without his knowledge, what would he think of you if he were to learn of these sinful scenarios you let consume you? You simply cannot help it, any woman in your position would probably be the same, right? Thinking of all the things those hands can do, how his rough fingertips would feel between your legs, his tongue against your...

It isn't like anyone knows either, after all, it would spread like a wildfire if anyone were to find out about your less than an innocent crush. In your opinion, you do quite a good job at masking it, not too clingy to him but also not completely avoiding him. After all, he is your father's "student" if you could say that, often training under the watchful gaze of your dad.

Sometimes it still feels like just the other day when you two first interacted, him introducing himself, saying how he works under your dad. You heard of him from your father often boasting about this guy he is training. You figure it would be another older guy, rough around the edges, not good enough to be eye candy. You couldn't have been any more wrong, completely in shock to learn that this "guy" was not only a lot younger than you expected but looked like those Greek statues.

You can never quite focus when he speaks to you, eyes wandering ever so discreetly, ears deafening when you catch sight of a bead of sweat dripping down his neck, how the lump in his throat bobs while he talks or drinks water. 

Even now, as you throw another punch per his instruction, your focus is entirely elsewhere. Not on the way he tells you to twist your wrist when launching your fist from your body, but rather how good it feels when he speaks right next to your shoulder, each word making your eardrums vibrate. If only he knew that you weren't very focused on his self-defense lesson, but rather how good it would feel to have those big hands wrapped around your neck or your thigh... anywhere is fine by you.

Most nights you find yourself fantasizing about Mark…Mark, all the filthy scenarios possible flooding your already corrupted mind the whole time you feel yourself up. Gripping your sheets and pretending it's his hair, breathing into your pillow to try and mask the sounds of pleasure you just can't keep in. You feel awful every time you finish, though. Hastily fixing yourself and going to shower, hoping the water will wash away sin.

Alas, you know that any level you go to repent would never erase the tainted marks of lust from your body. You're trapped in this, like a stalkerish fan swooning over her celebrity crush. Again, thanking whomever it concerns that mind-reading is not a thing.

A hand comes down onto the top of your head, drawing you from your deeper workings, "That time was really good," Mark praised with a grin, fingers dripping from your skin, much to your dismay, "Try it again without me guiding you, put your all into it!" If you had any less self-control, a moan would have passed your lips from his perfect voice, each word rolling off his tongue like honey from a spoon. 

Times like now you wish you had a deeper relationship than what is now accessed, that way you could just grab at his arms and give him the prettiest bats of your lashes all for the sake of begging him to take you somewhere private. That's all you want right now, to feel his soft lips on yours, to taste his tongue that probably will feel minty from the gum he is currently chewing. The simple privilege of being able to kiss him would surely kill you.

You throw another punch and really start to feel that ache in your shoulder, but Mark calls it a "good burn", something you remember even your father saying back when you were little. Your eyes glance to the clock hung on the wall, usually, you are hoping time will fly by, but right now? You hope it goes painfully slow, who knows when the next time will be when you have him so close with his hands all over you.

"I think you've mastered how to punch someone, I'm a little scared by how quick you are..." The playfulness in his voice does more than make you smile, it also contributes to the arousal that continues to soak into your panties, which you can probably assume are ruined at this point, "Let's practice a kick for if you're being restrained by two people." 

The last thing you expect is to feel him come up from behind and wrap his arms around your torso, restraining your arms and keeping you firmly pressed to his solid front. You would have cum right there if it wasn't for how focused you were on the veins in his arms or his flushed knuckles, "So if someone comes from behind, they'll most likely grab you in a way to trap your arms." His voice vibrates in his chest, which in turn vibrates against your back. 

Mark gives you a bit of a squeeze, a soft gasp fluttering from your lips not because of the restriction on your lungs but rather how if you arch your back just enough... you would probably feel the one thing you daydream about. The one thing you imagine fucking you every night when you touched yourself. 

"It'll be hard to elbow them, and depending on how tall they are you may not be able to head-butt them... so you can take one of your legs and then jab your heel into the arch of their foot, the point is to fracture or break those bones because then it'll either make them immobile or they won't be able to run after you when you get away." You nod your head along to his words, "Or, some people say to put as much as you can to lean forward because attackers expect you to thrash in their arms or try to hit them."

Mark lightly nudges you as a means to lean forward, you almost think not to, afraid of the hormones that are already driving you up the wall. But you do it anyway, leaning forward, despite the fact he is pressed into every inch of your backside, "Take both of your hands and grab at one of my legs, whichever you think is easier, and then you're gonna pull as hard as you can to try and knock me off."

You almost feel bad, but you assume that since he is giving you this lesson, he expects to get roughed up a little. So despite your inner conflict not to, you lean forward as much as it takes to grab the leg closest to you, that being his right leg, and firmly gripping his calf and pulling his leg towards you. You're almost surprised by how easy it was, one second he is holding onto you, his breath wafting against the back of your neck, and now he is flat on his back.

"That caught me off guard," He says in disbelief, without your knowledge his crimson eyes watch how you slowly stand up straight after successfully breaking free of his grasp, "I shouldn't underestimate you considering how intense your father is with training." He notices your panties peeking through the fabric of your yoga leggings, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, and staring until the red fabric is no longer peaking through.

"When I was little he taught me some basic things," You turn around to offer him a hand, which he gratefully takes, "But I don't think the moves I learned when I was little will be much assistance now." You help him up with a smile, for a moment you forget the tension that had previously been eating you, "Thank you for helping me, you make it more fun than it should be."

The crimson-haired boxer offers you one of his signature smiles, flashing those pearly white teeth you always think of dragging your tongue over, "You're adorable," His fingers playfully give your cheeks a pinch just to see you pout, "Let's do one more move before you gotta close up, I think you have it in you to give it a try." Who are you to argue? After all, it means more time to ogle over him, to feel his hands, to dream up filthy scenarios that have your pussy throbbing.

What you don't expect is to feel one of his hands fall on the dip of your waist to stabilize you, the other coming down to hook under your knee and slowly lift your leg, "You're pretty flexible, I expected that... naturally everyone's legs are stronger than their arms. So sometimes if you see an opening, go for a nice high kick right into either their chin or nose." So that's why he is holding you like this.

His words, just for a moment, blur as you look at his hands on your body. The position is oddly provocative, it is easy to just picture you both nude, his cock driving in and out of you just like this. His hands holding your soft thighs wide open for him, one leg hooked over his arm as those very fingers tease your clit, his other hand snaking up your front to tweak your nipples and torturously squeeze your tits.

It's disgusting, filthy that all he is doing is holding you like this to guide you and you're imagining him fucking you just like this. It's horribly wrong, sickening - but oh, it would probably feel so good like this. His tip would rub against that sweet stop your fingers can barely reach, his breath against the very shoulder he would mark with hickeys...

"There we go," His voice sounds so close it nearly makes you flinch, "Okay, you want to aim with your heel and not the tip of your shoe because it can strain your ankle or even hurt the arch of your foot. So lock your leg as you swing it up and pretend like you're jabbing someone with your heel." You wish his cock was jabbing your insides, but nonetheless, you strike your heel into the air effortlessly.

Mark whistles at the power in your leg, what he would give to see you beat the shit out of someone. He is sure you could probably even take him out if you tried, which is another reason he hopes he never gets on your bad side. The first reason being that your dad would kill him.

"Maybe I should start practicing with you," He muses when you smoothly bring your leg back down, "I bet you'd be able to break me down, especially with a kick like that." What you would give to simply watch him train with your father, you've seen it a handful of times. How he drives his fists into the punching bag, or the muscles in his thighs stiffening when he tries to knock his sparring partner down. He always leaves you drooling, hoping to feel those very hands wrapped around your throat or to ride his thighs while he teases you for being such a slut. 

As much as you would love to spend the time with him, you know you wouldn't be able to handle all the touching, to see him sweating and his muscles showing through his less-than-covering tank top. Sometimes he even goes shirtless, which is ten times worse and even more hormone-inducing. If only there was a way to confidently tell him, "I've wanted to have sex with you since I first saw you, so please do whatever you want with me."

"I think you'd probably break me..." The words weren't meant to come out sounding so sexual, leaving a pinkish blush on his cheeks and at the tip of his ears, "But we can always practice like this whenever you want." You miss how he shuffles in place, trying to knock your first sentence from his head. Break you? He knows what you meant... but even he has some not-so-innocent thoughts.

With it being time to close, regulars gradually leave the gym, bidding you a farewell per usual, the machines slowly becoming empty. Though the only person who patiently remains, discreetly watching passing figures as they leave the building, is the redhead you have been eyeing all day. It is rather exciting, watching the final person pack up their things and leave, finally granting you the privacy you've desired all day.

You begin the process of locking up the gym, working the locks on the alternate entrance, as well as pulling the drop-down fence that cages the windows. You two often leave through the back door, so you always lock up the front earlier than you both intend to depart. Whenever he stays a little later than usual, he often waits for you to close and you will leave together. 

Being so focused on closing the main entrances and front of the gym, you don't notice the figure approaching you from behind, not until a shadow casts over you and you notice the lighting change. Not until a hand falls onto your shoulder, to which you peer behind you to see Markall packed up, "Did you bring a sweater? It's supposed to be cold out."

"I didn't, but it's fine because my car is right there." He knows it is, but he also knows that you tend to park quite a bit away from the apartment you share with your father because it didn't have a parking garage, "I'll be fine! Worst case scenario I catch a cold and can't come to work tomorrow." That's when you remember an important detail about tomorrow, one that you've been looking forward to all week.

"You have a match tomorrow, right?" Comes your voice amid his needless thinking, "Dad is making the plans, he's been running around all day... I think he may be more excited than you." You try to change the subject, knowing he will be persistent regarding you taking his sweater.

"Yeah, and that's another reason you should take my hoodie... that way you don't get sick and you can be there to cheer me on." His words make you feel so warm and fuzzy inside, is he really that worried? Does he really want you there to see him? It's too much, you may just pass out knowing he wants you to cheer for him in the crowd!

You heard rumors of professionals possibly attending, managers of some sort. It all sounds a little too good to be true, but knowing your father he is always pulling strings. To locals, it's considered a big deal because of the chance to gamble bets, entertainment... The matches are memorable. Mark likes the attention, to hear people chant his name and praise him, that adrenaline he gets when he is so close to winning. It is a drug, an addiction he just cannot shake. He needs support.

Finally, you take the hoodie from his hand, pulling the thick fabric over your head and covering yourself, "Thank you, Mark." He is so sweet, it makes you feel guilty for letting these thoughts ravage your brain. For allowing yourself to lewd him constantly, he has been nothing but respectful with you and all you can think about is how fucking good it would feel to sit on his face right now.

"Are you gonna be there to give me some good luck?" His words catch you off guard, give him some good luck? you never really see him before his matches, usually, only after will you congratulate him and offer to take him out for something to eat, per request from your father. It is a tradition to celebrate after a successful fight. Most of the night you will ogle over him, how good he looks with a slightly swollen lip, or how you would kill to lick the little bit of blood sticking to the fresh wound on his brow.

What could you possibly do to give him good luck? You will have to think of something, you can't disappoint him, "Since tomorrow is a big deal, I guess I have to make sure you have as much luck as possible, right?" Your words bring a grin to his face, you've always been so kind yet carefree. He likes that a lot about you, how you don't take everything so seriously, and never feels like he has to walk on eggshells around you. 

Whatever it may be, he likes getting some sort of recognition from you before he fights, you leave this positive and sweet taste in his chest. He finds that he tries harder with you around, whether it be to impress you or earn plenty of praises and compliments when the match is over. He doesn't care what you come up with, so long as it's from you.

Mark Remembers that you're off the clock and should get home before it's too dark, "A-Anway," He clears his throat and adjusts his gym bag over his shoulder, "Let's get out of here, I think we both could use a shower..." Despite his words, he is eyeing how exhausted you look, sweaty and your eyes a little swollen from overworking yourself. It reminds him of the time you went on a run with him, an innocent invitation he gave you since he never really sees you outside of the gym.

To his surprise, you weren't at all a bad runner, but unfortunately, your stamina does not nearly match his and he can still remember how cute you looked, tripping over your feet and waving your hand for him to slow down. The sweat that stuck to your face, neck, chest... how you were shivering all the while scraping to regain some oxygen in your lungs. Your fingers holding onto his arm, leaning into him with your eyes closed. 

You had looked so pretty that day, but all he could think about was whether or not you'd look the same if he were to have sex with you. Would the sweet bead up the same? Would your eyes get heavy once it was over? Would you pant and cling to him like now, doing your best to keep up and not collapse from exhaustion? That was the first time he ever thought of you other than as a friend, and ever since it feels like the daydreams have gotten a little worse.

Not nearly as explicit as yours, though.

God, you want to fuck him so bad. You want to ride him until your thighs burn, to feel his teeth marking your skin with every push of his hips, to open your mouth just so he can spit in it... reminding you that you're nothing but a perverted, disgusting, awful whore. That's exactly what you are. A brainless, hormonal...

Right, you're supposed to be leaving. With a final adjustment to the sweater he had kindly given you, you lead the way to the back door of the gym. You wish you didn't have to depart so soon, just before he had his hands all over you! Touching your legs, holding your waist... can't you turn back time just enough to go through that all over again? Even if it's just him guiding you to a proper punch. 

What you would give to feel those hands on your tits, or cupping the apex of your thighs. Would it feel different from when you touch yourself? Probably. His fingers are bigger, thicker, rough... you can only imagine the way they would curl to rub that special spot inside of your walls. You bet he would be able to make you squirt, you can only imagine it... if only.

"Make sure you sleep early," He chimes from beside you, "That way I can see you early before I have to go prepare for tomorrow night." It is bizarre how insistent he is on seeing you before the fight, did you do something different to yourself? Deep down, you're praying he may just have a little crush on you, but you doubt it. He could like anyone, he would never choose you... right?

Nonetheless, you don't let your selfish thinking distract you from the handsome man beside you. What doe sit matter whether he likes you or not? At least he talks with you. But every human has selfish desires, yours just happens to be wanting the crimson-haired boxer beside you to be yours, "I wouldn't miss a chance to see you," The words come out faster than you could bite your tongue, but with the cat out of the bag you roll with it, "Maybe I could bring you something to eat?"

The suggestions noticeably brighten him, the two of you coming out of the back door which you begin to lock for the night, "That would be nice, remember those grape leaves you had made that one time? I'd kill for those..." Neither of you misses how his voice noticeably quiets, as if he only wants you to hear that, for the huskiness in his tone to catch your ears. 

To say it doesn't cause a million and one butterflies to waltz in from your stomach into your chest, would be a lie. It would be a lie to deny how the most minuscule quirks he has always leave you in a state of your own temporary bliss. You wish you could hear him whisper over and over, to come up behind you like in those cliche romance films from the 60s. For his arms to encase your midsection, lips meeting the shell of your ear, telling you how his day is better now that he is home with you.

Oh, what you would give to live out a shitty romance film from however many decades ago with Mark. To be that mindless trophy wife even if for a day, to forget all responsibility and for him safely coming home to you to be your only worry. To spend your hours cooking and cleaning, making yourself look your prettiest if it means letting him use you to destress.

You just want to make him happy, is that so wrong? Maybe.

"I'll be sure to make you some," You say back, eyes falling from his to instead look at your sneakers, "W-Well, I'll see you early tomorrow... I'll be sure to bring your sweater back." You miss the subtle smile due to your eyes being elsewhere, a smile that lasts until you look back up to him, "Drive home safe, I can't wait to see the fight tomorrow."

The two of you bid your farewell, Mark keeping his eye on you up until you safely enter the comfort of your car, and only then does he get into his own. You always miss those gentlemanly gestures he does, how he never leaves until he sees you're safely in your car, always keeping an eye out for you whenever you go off to the bathroom. He gets so worried over you being just a minute too long, and part of him excuses it for a "need to protect" urge in him.

But a very small part of him has already learned to accept he may or may not have feelings for you, whether they are romantic or platonic, he cannot pinpoint; especially because he hasn't even fully accepted the fact he has potential feelings for you. 

Regardless, you drive away, unaware of how he waited for you to leave first. The entire ride home, all you could focus on was the cologne that stuck to the hoodie he let you borrow. How the masculine odor filled not only your nose but the car. It felt mocking like the hoodie knew how down bad you are forMark, but you try not to let it get to you. You try not to imagine how it would feel to bury your face into his shoulder and smell the cologne stuck to his skin.

That familiar heat floods between your legs, reminding you of how awful you are. Even with him gone, you can't stop the dirty thoughts. Maybe you just need to get laid? Maybe it's less that you like him, and just you being horny and deprived of intimacy. 

You know that isn't the case, but it's nice to pretend it is.

What would his favorite position be? Would he prefer you on top? Bent over? If you had to decide, you'd want to be able to see his face, to watch how good you can make him feel. No amount of brainstorming could probably compare to how sexy he would look engulfed in pleasure, nor how he would sound. You take him for someone who tries to hold back their moans, not wanting you to know you're being good for him.

"Oh, god..." You whisper under your breath as you continue to drive, knuckles bulging from gripping the steering wheel so hard, not to mention the ache in your lower back from how far you've arched yourself to try and ignore the throbbing in your clit. It's ridiculous, here you are driving home on an empty street, your apartment building isn't even that far away...

And yet you find yourself pulled over on the side of the road.

The entire time, you mentally scold yourself, eyes frantically looking about all the while you sick back into your seat. Your nose is buried into the collar of the sweater, the familiar scent comforting you while your hand moves under the waistband of your leggings and then under your soaked panties. Were you really this wet? Usually, you would be riddled with shame, but now? You can only thank yourself, knowing it will make it all the easier for your fingers to snake themselves inside of you.

You know that your fingers will never compare to the real thing, and most of the time you don't even get much pleasure from them being inside of you, but that minor sense of fullness somehow is just relaxing. Between your index and middle fingers being knuckle deep inside of your pulsating entrance, your walls clenching around what little space your fingers take up, and your palm grinding into your clit.

"M-Mark..." His name is always falling from your tongue, every time you find yourself viciously rubbing your clit in desperation, or grinding into the soft fabric of your pillow. Whatever you may be doing to pleasure yourself, his name is the only thing that you manage to utter during the entire process. Praising him for making you feel so good and whimpering how it's too much for you. 

If only he could see you now, curled up in your car and humping at your hand, panting and whining for the only man you've thought about for however long you've known him. If only he were here, to witness how filthy you are, that you're anything but sugar and honey - you're not sweet at all, you're just a needy nymphomaniac. 

You spread your thighs just a little more, fingers dipping in and out of your entrance only to then come out and give your neglected clit circular rubs before seeping back inside of your pussy, "I wanna cum,Mark~" Imagining it is his fingers pumping in and out of you, that it's his palm that continues to grind into your poor clit.

With the fabric of his sweater pressed firmly to your nose, it helps to muffle your pathetic sounds; strings of his name and pleas floating within the air of your car. the only other noise being the wet squelching sound of your fingers inside of you. It all feels so lewd, to be touching yourself like this in your car. If anyone were to find out, surely you would be not only shunned, but you'd never hear the end of it.

But god his hands felt so good on your thighs and waist when he was training you earlier, they were so warm, so big... his palms rough when they dragged over the skin of your arms. You wish he would've gone just a little higher

"F-Fuck... ah~ fuck me,Mark-" You squeak when your fingers nudge at your walls a little too roughly, further hiding your face in his sweater as it gradually becomes harder to contain your whimpers. The thought of him praising you, calling you his good girl, and saying you take it so well - would he pepper your teary face with kisses? Slow down to make sure he doesn't completely ruin you?

Your insides feel hot, tortuously hot. Every grind of your clit into your palm gradually brings you closer to the anticipated climax. Are you catching a fever? You know it is just your body readying itself for the oncoming bliss, the buildup in your stomach that feels like electricity, "I-I'm cumming," You breathe out a strained whine, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming... I'm cumming~!" You lose your voice as your fingers focus on your clit, rubbing back and forth against the poor nerve.

"M-Mark~ fuck, fuck, fuck- nngh~!" It all happens so quick, the squirting of your climax soaking into your panties and leggings, tainting the skin of your hand and pruning fingers, luckily not too much getting on the seat of your car. But it isn't the mess, it's the pulse you feel in your clit, a neverending throb that has your walls clenching and unclenching. 

You must look wrecked, between how you've managed to bizarrely sink into your seat, your leggings and panties slightly pulled down and your fingers covered in a mess of your cum and slick. You feel ridiculous more than you look it, having just touched yourself in your car to the thought of someone who most likely sees you as nothing but a friend. 

Once again you feel like you're taking a walk of shame; pulling your panties and leggings back up despite the uncomfortable and icky sensation of how wet the fabric is, adjusting yourself in your seat, and looking around for any ongoing or incoming cars. Only when you deem it safe, pulling out of the spot you had parked to continue your trek home, all in silence as a means to reflect on yet again letting your lust get the best of you.

All you can do is hope that when you get home and take a nice warm shower and make those grape leaves poor Mark asked for, that it will somehow erase this awful encounter with yourself from your head. Hopefully, tomorrow will be a better day. Though, you doubt it will take eight hours of sleep to cure you of the hormonal devil on your shoulder.

To make matters worse, the familiar chime of your phone interrupts your mental meditation on what just happened. Though, it isn't your phone that makes things worse, but rather the fact that the very name you see in the notifications bar is the one person you were hoping to get out of your head. You almost think not to answer, let alone look at it, but you could never do that to him.

Upon opening the message, you nearly cry with guilt - how can he be so sweet? Why do you have to be so awful?

Remember that time we went for a run? I forgot I took this pic of u when we finished... after u started to vomit because u pushed urself 2 much. U looked cute tho (:

Scrolling up you hold back the urge to get on your knees before some religious statue and beg for forgiveness. There he is smiling at the camera, holding it high enough to catch himself but also you in the back, to your surprise you don't look awful. Sure, you may be on the verge of death from running so much, and even sweatier than him, but the sunset somehow brought it all together.

And did he just say you looked cute?

You bite back the urge to squeal and get into a car accident, but mostly not to verbally freak out. Does he really think you're cute? Really? You almost don't want to believe it, why would he think you're cute? You don't dwell on it too much, happily accepting the compliment and rereading the message over and over again until another one comes through.

We should do it again, I had fun <3 see u 2morrow, don't forget the grape leaves!

Why does he have to be so perfect? It's always the nice guys who are barely out of your reach. Not that you deserve Mark, someone as obsessive as you doesn't deserve that sort of happiness - not when you focus more on wanting to have sex with him every day, rather than building up the courage to just ask him out.

Maybe tomorrow you will try.

The following morning comes all too quickly, but you give yourself credit for having not had a wet dream - something that shamefully occurs often - and waking up to the sound of your early set alarm without trouble. You're never usually up at this time, but keeping your promise to the crimson-haired man you think about more than you do yourself is your top priority. It would be awful to say you will be there with breakfast, only to diss him.

And surely he would end up not liking you at all, he has mentioned being prejudice against people who do not stay true to their words. 

You like to think that you got ready so quickly, so haphazardly due to your stress over possibly being late... but you know it's because of how excited you are to see Mark and the fact he told you he wanted to see you before he would have to go and prepare for his fight.

Before you leave, you make sure to grab his sweater which you left neatly folded at your desk. When you got home after your shower, the first thing you did was throw it in the wash and put it as far away from you as possible - that damned sweater, you should have never accepted it because look what it made you do! Nonetheless, you are grateful he thought of you and your health and that is the reason you washed it, to cleanse it of any and all evidence of the sin you committed in your car last night. It is still humiliating that you allowed yourself to lose that self-control, but at least you're not in denial. 

If your father were to have seen you with that hoodie, you are almost certain he would have recognized it and interrogated you. Luckily, that didn't happen, because if it had you aren't sure you would be able to explain without the flooding images of last night filling your head and driving you up the wall.

But none of that is your concern, not when you have to make it to the gym in time for him, you're certain he should be there at this time, as well as your father who is preparing the back building where all boxing training, practice, and matches go on. Your only hope is neither of you bumps into your old man, but with how analytical he is, he practically smells when and where he needs to stick his nose into business that isn't his.

As you pull your car into the lot of the gym, noticing the familiar vehicles that belong to both the man you are excited to see, but also the one you hope you don't bump into, the butterflies begin to catch up. He wanted to see you, even to now you still replay those very words, asking you to come by earlier so he could see you before he had to go and prepare himself for the night.

The nerves are beginning to start, you never quite got over that feeling that you were stepping into unfamiliar territory. You've known Mark for quite some time by now, can't you just get over it and walk in there? It isn't even him that you're fearful of, more so the eyes that may follow you the moment you step into the gym. What will others think? You're never so early, and walking up to the redhead with a bento box? You can only imagine the rumors this will start.

Yet, you suck it up. Your father didn't raise you to run away from things, worst-case scenario is he can't talk right now and you end up looking like a fool. You doubt it, but there are a hundred and one possibilities you are anything but prepared for. But isn't that what makes it exciting? The unknown.

Not really, you hate the unknown. The entire walk to the front door of the gym, as well as entering it to see not many people you are familiar with there, which isn't surprising since you work from the afternoon until it gets dark. Nowhere in sight do you see the redhead you have been waiting to see since you last saw him yesterday evening, and you aren't even sure where he could be.

Part of you worries you may be too late, but you figure if he were to be anywhere he must be in the back building. The only issue is you would have to possibly come face-to-face with your father, not only to hand back Mark's sweater but also breakfast you prepared for him. You almost think to just bail, claim there is a ridiculous amount of traffic and you're still on the road, but he isn't stupid.

And you're also not gonna hurt his feelings.

You carry yourself towards the back doors of the building to find the separate structure where all the boxers practice and train, it is rather run down in comparison to the main gym, but it makes sense since most of the fights that go on here go on without the knowledge of authority. You aren't even sure if your father has a proper permit for this building, but he's gotten away with it before, and you're sure you've seen local officers in their casual attire attending the matches.

But all of that is beside the point, not when you enter the building and come face to face with chaos. Between people moving chairs and tables around, cleaners mopping at the floor, boxers gathered to the far end of the building where you see your father. Unfortunately, there is noMark-

Before the figure behind you can even speak, this weird tingle down your spine alerted you to an approaching figure, which you quickly look back only to be met with long red hair and a bare, sweat-tainted torso. Had he always been so tall? So big? You have no clue where to even look, your eyes jumping from his chest to his shoulder, raking over his long hair, and finally locking with the familiar crimson eyes you are used to. You feel silly for staring at him, but you just can't help it.

"You made it," Comes his voice, a grin plastered onto his face at the sight of you holding his sweater and the bento box, "I see you brought me some gifts, is this what I think it is?" The tip of his finger points at the box of grape leaves, to which you hold them out for him to take, your words trapped in your throat at the sight of him completely shirtless in front of you. 

Mark opens the box and whistles at the plentiful amount of grape leaves you had prepared for him, "You spoil me~" He hums while bringing one to his lips, taking it all in his mouth in one bite. Your eyes lock on a droplet of oil that is stuck to the corner of his mouth, how his jaw looks when he chews, the bob of his adam's apple whenever he swallows. You can only imagine how much better he would look swallowing your cum, if only he was there last night to catch your juices in his mouth when you made yourself cum like that.

"How is everything coming along?" You finally find your voice, even if to just ask a question, from what you can tell most of the necessary tasks are just about done - which would leave Mark with an hour or so to get ready for the match later this afternoon - and most are just focusing on creating space to accommodate the customers coming to watch.

Nights like this your father makes the most money, charging for entry and snacks. You call him a shark for how he robs these people with his ridiculous fees, but what business is it to you? If it's what the people want, you're sure they would pay any amount just to watch some men beat each up other up. You weren't a fan of boxing until you first seen Mark, only ever wasting your time to see him in the ring.

When he swallows his third grape leaf, much to your shock, his eyes scan the room with an unsure shrug, "I'd say it looks fine, I've been trying to help out but your father refuses... keeps saying I should just go and warm up in the gym." You would figure as much, your father has favorites and those favorites tend to get the better end of the stick. 

You smile seeing how happy he is with the bento box you prepared for him, nothing makes you happier than when someone enjoys your cooking. Especially the person you like, a lot. It feels good to just be able to look at him and feel nothing but that giddy crush feeling bubbling inside of you, without the added turn-off of your anything but pure imagery that infests your less than perfect brain.

"There aren't too many people in the gym... maybe it will do you some good to stretch or something before you gotta get ready." Mark knows you're right, and he doesn't particularly enjoy doing absolutely nothing when everyone around him is up to some sort of agenda, "I don't plan on going anywhere now that I'm here, it wouldn't make sense... did you need help with anything in particular."

Of course, part of you is hoping to hear something like 'yeah, can you suck my dick?' but you know that won't happen. It is quite humiliating to even think that, how nice his thighs would feel in your palms, his cock shoved balls deep in your throat, tearing up and choking from the size. You bet he tastes just as good as he looks, and he looks like he tastes really good.

Mark closes the bento box, "Actually, yeah..." The three fingers the were covered in the thick oil that the grape leaves are cast in are one by one popped into his mouth, and oh is a sight to admire. His tongue dragging over the single-digit before dragging it out from his mouth with a light pop, "You mind wrapping my hands for me? I never do it tight enough." 

You've seen him struggle plenty of times with that hair of his, thick and down to his lower back. You aren't sure how he manages to take care of it, after all, it always looks so silky and voluminous. The women in those shampoo commercials could never compare, you're sure if Mark ever got into doing commercials he would have shelves empty within the first two seconds of the ad. 

Who wouldn't want to sit there and stare at him? His voice shaking every bone in your body, the way his muscles flex with the slightest movement, his pretty white teeth, not to mention thick lashes, and the way they frame his sharp eyes. Anyone would be happy to hear him talk, let alone drag their eyes over every dip and curve of his powerhouse of a body.

Before you are quiet for too long you come back to your senses, "Of course!" It comes out rather too enthusiastic, but Mark either doesn't notice or care. Especially not when you walk past him in that pretty little skirt of yours, you look so delicious clutching his sweater to your chest, your hips swaying in the most hypnotizing way. God forbid anyone, let alone your father catches his eyes checking you out from behind.

He follows you like a lost puppy, drooling over your legs and how soft they must be, how your thighs would feel amazing to just lay his head down on them. He's always found you attractive, and your sweet personality makes it ten times better. Whenever you wear those yoga leggings, he finds himself staring too long at you, watching you walk until you disappear somewhere.

What he would give to see you in cute little stockings, holding that skirt of yours up for him to admire the adorable panties you have on. Would you be into that? Letting him stare down at you, memorize every inch of your body, rub you through your panties, and push your shirt up and over your soft tits. The things he would do to you if you gave him the chance, and today he hopes he can coax you into paying more attention to him.

The two of you enter the gym, seeing that only a few other regulars have joined the same faces from when you came. The only sound being of the equipment and the cheesy music playing through the loudspeakers. Onlookers glance for a moment, watching the two of you as you both settle at one of the benches. You know they only look because they're interested in Mark and what he could possibly be doing with you. But who cares? You get to have an excuse to hold his hand!

"Did you sleep well?" He asks while fishing into the pocket of his shorts to pull out the hand wraps, "To be honest, I was a little worried about you since it was so cold... that's why I texted you, to make sure you were okay." Every word leaves you more and more in a state of speechlessness, he truly did care. All night that's all you could wonder if he genuinely cared and it turns out he did.

You contain your excitement, not wanting it to show how happy that made you, "Really?" You squeak out, "I-I was fine... your sweater kept me warm." You hide the flustered look by focusing down at the gauze in your hands, unwrapping the elastic material, "I made sure to wash it before I brought it back, I was pretty sweaty last night."

He finds you adorable, how your pretty hands hesitantly grab one of his and hold it in your lap. Your skin is so soft, so warm, he has to hold himself back from just squeezing or dragging his palm over the exposed skin. You're so careful with how you bring the gauze over his knuckles and between his thumb and index finger, making sure it is neither too tight nor too loose.

"Too bad, you always smell really good..." He watches your expression with a smirk, not missing how you tense up, "You never answered my question about whether or not you slept..." He loses his train of words as he watches your fingers trace over his knuckles. You're gentle, treating his hand like it's the most fragile thing you ever held, between the way you've fastened the gauze just right and are now just adjusting the wrap to better cover his abused knuckles.

The only thing on your mind is whether he takes proper care of his hands or not, does he make sure to clean them up and put ice? To massage all the kinks and knots out? You worry too much for him, not that he could ever tell. The tips of your fingers trace what scars aren't being covered, admiring how much he has probably been through to get this far. You've seen the way he trains, hours without a break, and always pushing himself, that's how stars are made.

Would it be so bad...? You feel conflicted, despite your hand already gradually bringing his closer to you, has anyone ever made sure he took care of himself? You try to do so, but sometimes your selfishness gets in the way. Is there anyone he lives with that pampers him? What you would give to be that person; rubbing his aching shoulders, kissing the bruises and cuts he has, washing his hair and back for him...

"y/n-" Your name leaves his mouth with a stutter, crimson eyes caught on your lips pressing delicate kisses to his knuckles. Your lips are soft, shimmering slightly from the lip-balm you have on, not to mention the warmth of your breath wafting against his hand. He doesn't protest, more so in awe at how pretty you look, how you don't even seem to be aware of what you're doing.

To say he hasn't pictured this exact scenario a hundred times or more, you wrapping his hands before a match, kissing each finger with one of your beautiful smiles. All he can do now is soak in this mini victory, a dream come true if you will. Your eyes peering through your lashes when your lips pull away from his hand, the cutest look of shame flashing on your pretty face, "Sorry, it just looks like it hurts..."

Mark stays silent as you hold his wrapped hand, reminiscing on how your lips felt on him, wondering if they would feel even better elsewhere. He doesn't respond right away, placing his unwrapped hand in your lap with a smile, "I liked it..." He says while you start to wrap his other hand, "Y-You should do it more often." 

You never expected him to say something like that, not that you expected him to be upset with you. To be honest, you weren't entirely sure what you were expecting his response to being when you pulled away. Part of you thought the atmosphere would grow awkward, unwanted even. Yet, here you are repeating the process with his other hand, the entire time you can't keep yourself from glancing up, only for your eyes to lock with his and his lips to curl into a smug smirk.

Just as you had with his other hand, you sheepishly bring the newly wrapped knuckles to your lips. Of course, this time you aren't as confident, but he finds it just as pleasurable. Your pretty eyes locked with his, kissing at the scarred flesh and trying to sit still. He can tell you're embarrassed simply by your body language, which you shouldn't be, he likes this show you're putting on for him.

Only when you finish, lowering his hand from your face and sitting up straight on the bench opposite to him, does Mark get a good look at your face. You would look good with a swollen bottom lip, irritated from his teeth nipping and tugging at it, and he wouldn't mind giving your cheek a playful bite, too. He realizes he doesn't quite want you to move away just yet, the simple act of you wrapping his hands already leaving him craving more of your attention.

"Could you help me with my hair, too?" You are only a little surprised by the question, especially since you've seen him put up his hair - despite it looking rather rough around the edges and a bit too low - and be perfectly fine with it. But you wouldn't turn down the opportunity to be close with him for a little longer. Did he ask that because he wants the same thing? You want to believe it.

Mark hands you the tie around his wrist, watching you come to a stand and circle around to stand behind him. His hair looks shiny, like layers of red silk on his head, "You have nice hair," You shyly state, putting the tie around your wrist as you start to gather his long and thick hair in your hands, "I bet you'd look nice with a half-up half-down style, but keeping it all up is probably for the best so it doesn't obstruct your vision, right?"

He wanted to answer you, but your voice sends such a chill through his spine, your warm breath hitting the back of his neck as you work to make sure not a single hair has fallen astray. Your fingers are like heaven, rubbing against his scalp, combing through the heavy bundle of red hair, "The last time I wore my hair down for a fight," He holds his tongue when you lean forward, the softness of your tummy pressing into him as you lean over his body to make sure you gather the hair in front, "I-It kept getting the way and stuck on things..."

You hum softly, not even really aware that the fact you're practically laying over his back to pull back the loose strands have him swelling in his briefs. Fuck, he would do anything to fill you up right here, let everyone watch him do it too. Pretty little y/n get her pussy stuffed for being a teasing little whore, panties around your ankle, barely fitting him inside of you. 

"You'll do great tonight," You say loud enough for only him to hear, "And um... maybe after we can go out for dinner?" Mark almost laughs at the predicament, it seems you beat him to it, "I-I mean, only if you're up for it, I just know this place with really good western dishes and I wanted-"

"Would you believe me if I said I was gonna ask you the same question after the match?" Your heart lodges in your throat, he is serious... right? Of course, why else would he say that? But it feels too good to be true! Would he really ask you out for dinner? It feels like everything is just falling together with the more the day goes by; wanting to see you before the match, wanting to ask you out for dinner, kissing his knuckles, touching his hair... it feels too perfect.

Technically it is because it seems your fifteen minutes of heaven is up when the familiar face of your father approaches you both, your fingers fall from the red hair you had been playing with, "I've been looking everywhere for you, kid... and you've been here the whole time!" His hands go up in the air, urgingMark to stand up, "Turns out we are actually behind schedule, the guys who came for the match are here an hour early so we gotta get you changed and ready to go in thirty minutes. Understood?"

PoorMark looks like a deer caught in headlights, "H-Huh? I thought the matches weren't until later...?" Even you are a tad confused by the situation, the matches are always held later in the day, wouldn't it be inconvenient to start now when there aren't even any customers?

But it turns out everything happens for a reason, "That was the impression I was under, but it turns out the new kid I hired to put up posters and shit put in the wrong damn time. So not only are people expecting a match in the next thirty minutes, but I haven't even finished getting the beer and shit out." Your father seems to be off the walls, between the anger in his tone and the way his brows are knitted close together, you don't think now is the time to upset him.

"You, go get changed and ready." Your father pushes Mark in the direction to the dressing rooms, "And you," He smiles while taking your face in his palms, "If I see that redhead getting too friendly with you I will kick his ass, now go and get yourself something to eat from the back you look half-awake." That's your father for you, even protective when the nice guys are around.

Alas, you do not argue, now is probably not the best time to tell him you wanted to go to dinner with Mark later tonight. You follow his orders to go and help with the food and beverages, you're sure he wouldn't want you working, but you figured with all the stress of the times being wrong you could help even just a little bit.

This is the most chaotic you have seen the gym, people coming with nowhere to go just yet, workers running around with chairs and tables and mops, carrying cases of whiskey and soda and things alike. If you weren't used to such disorder, for sure you would have cracked under the pressure of everything. Working a gym that also happens to have a "secret" boxing system in itself is just a mess.

Deep down, you feel bad for everyone and seeing the boxers rush in and out half-dressed in their uniforms and still trying to help, but at the same time, the fact that everything has been pushed earlier simply means you not only get to go out with Mark sooner but most likely stay out with him longer. You only hope that the stress of this mishap and the fight doesn't ruin those chances and he forgets, or even worse, just doesn't want to go out anymore.

As usual, you know that is just your overactive imagination and the pessimistic side of you, always questioning your worth and whether or not an opportunity is real or not. A lot of nights you spend laughing at yourself, how silly you were for holding so much doubt and worry over nothing; now is one of those moments.

When you should be focusing on helping to carry this case of water to the back building, you're wondering how Mark is coming along. He looked a little under pressure the last time you saw him, what if he might need help? Probably not...

But he did say he needed a little good luck before the match.

Maybe visiting him will somehow ease his nerves, despite him being a big guy with a lot of confidence, you are sure even men like him can be on edge for something like a boxing match. It's like football in high school minus being in high school and the football, right? Before game adrenaline, eyeing up the enemy, mentally and physically preparing yourself for the fight of your life. Everyone wants to win.

The only difference is that you know Markwill come out on top, you've never had as much faith in anyone as you do with him... which is why your feed deters from the back door to the second building in favor of finding which room Mark may be holed up in. Every dressing room has a name on it, and there are only five being used tonight because most of the boxers being trainees.

Your father is a big perfectionist, and if he doesn't have one hundred percent faith in you, then there is no way he will have you representing him. You learned that a lot growing up, but you think that's one of the reasons you crave perfection over minuscule things like how the gym equipment is set up, and where the towels and waters out, how things are accessible. They do say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

As you make your way down the hall of vacant and occupied doors, your eyes finally catch sight of the familiar name done in the familiar striking handwriting you have seen thousand times over. Mark has this little within quirk that you can easily identify, always sharpening his letters and irregular capitalization. You've always liked coming to work to see his name on the sign-in sheet, always so bold and pop from the rest of the list of names. 

For a moment you almost hesitate to knock on his door, but it is either now or never that you speak to him. You bring your knuckles to the door, knocking three times before stepping back and waiting. You don't hear anything on the other side of the door, could he have already left? It is a possibility, out of everyone his costume has always been the most... let's just say revealing. Mark is meant to be the eye-catcher, he is young, has bold red hair, is big and intimidating all the while looking soft.

All the boxers have their teams, and Mark's just so happens to be a nice, scary piece of eye candy. Not that you mind at all, more for you to look at! But when the door doesn't open, you come to the conclusion he isn't there, turning on your heel to head back out and see if anyone needs help. You're disappointed to say the truth, having wanted to talk with him for a second before the match, but not everything can just fall into place.

You get about ten feet from the door before you hear the sound of a door handle turning and the squeak of its opening, "y/n?" The familiar voice stops you in place, you had thought the door belonged to someone else but turning to look into the crimson eyes of the person you had been hoping to see, "Hey, what's up?" He is only a little shocked to see you there, to be truthful he was hoping it was you on the other end of the door when he hurried to get to it.

But you standing there, he almost didn't believe it for a second, not until you scurried your pretty little self back the way you came to meet him at his door, "N-No! I just thought you could use a little help, you looked distressed when you had to rush out of there before." Your words sink in for a moment, you were worried. He finds it rather cute, you worrying your head over him and wanting to be a good helper.

"Is that so...?" He hums, smiling when you slowly crack under his gaze, "Can you help me get this shitty top on? Your father forgot to order a bigger size so we are trying to compromise." You're a little flustered to help him with his costume of all things, you'll be alone in a room with him and his uniform barely covers anything. Between the fact, his entire torso is revealed aside from the signature black arm sleeves, and you'll be dangerously close to him? You are melting and you aren't even entirely in his room yet.

No matter what, you refuse to turn him down, not now. You look both ways down the hall before quietly entering his room, the door shutting behind you both, "I'll be sure to order a resizing for you," You say and examine the rest of what should be a part of the top of his costume, "He must have gotten you mixed up with the new guy, but that's okay people aren't here to judge you for what you're wearing!"

Mark sits down for you, letting you adjust the arm sleeves on his arm, due to the collar and shoulder pieces not fitting him, they won't have anything to be held up with, "I find it kinda funny how big your dad is about image and impression, considering he has men beating on each other for like four hours straight." Your fingers feel hot against his skin, apply a makeshift tape to the inside of the hem of the sleeves so that it has a better grip on his biceps.

"I was thinking... maybe instead of staying for everything to finish, we could just go out as soon as my match is over?" Your heart leaps at the suggestion, you're starting to think that he can read your thoughts, that the entire time you were freaking out over that dinner date not working he heard it all and was now making sure you could rest assured. Again, once again your imagination going over the top, but it doesn't kill a girl to dream!

With nothing more to modify regarding his costume - which you realized he never needed help with it to start and he was giving an excuse for you to stick around - you circle to look him in the face, "I would like that, I don't really... I kinda only go to these matches to watch you." He knew that but you don't know that he knows, so he pretends he is shocked, "A-And because the matches are earlier than they were supposed to, maybe we have time before or after dinner to do something else?"

His mind wandered, he won't deny it, what could pretty y/n possibly have in mind for before or after dinner? He'd love for it to be you bouncing in his lap with your tits spilling out that top of yours, you'd probably love that, wouldn't you? Mark can just imagine how good you would look, squealing and gasping, doing your best to take his big cock, even crying a little because you don't wanna mess up and not be good enough for him.

Fuck, you look so tantalizing standing there, your fingers messing with one another in front of you as you wait for a response, "What did you have in mind?" Mark wants to know what sort of ideas you have brewing in your head. Here is he wanting to fuck you whenever he gets the chance, and poor you have no clue. Part of him wouldn't be surprised if you have fantasies of your own, it's always the one who acts all sweet and sugary that ends up being sour and spicy.

"I-I'm not sure... but we could figure it out later, right?" He is a little disappointed you didn't have anything specific you wanted to do, but he figured as much since everything is so last minute. Nonetheless, he can't wait to see what happens later, he knows you'll make it work just like you always do.

The silence that falls for a few brief seconds doesn't last long when a knock comes at the door, to which you look over in horror. You don't need someone walking in and seeing you here, especially if that is your father. But Mark has it under control, going over to the door and peeking out. You can't see who it is, but you can hear their conversation from start to finish.

"You're on in five, so get that uniform finished and get out there, 'kay?" You figured it was your father with how strict he is when it comes to time, "Also, have you seen y/n?" You freeze up at the mention of your name, you'll be dead if he so much as smells you in this room, which is the reason you sink further into the corner and as far away from the door as possible.

"I haven't, but I'll be done in a minute, don't worry." Less is more with your father, and thankfully you can hear the sound of him going on with whatever it was he was doing before checking on Mark. The door clicks shut and only then do you let out the breath you had been holding, "Shit, that was close..."

If only he knew how badly your heart was racing, and you wish you could say it was out of fear, but all you feel is hot, that adrenaline of your father finding his sweet little girl in the room of one of his scary boxers. What would he think? Sure he would tie you up in the tallest tower, but he would for sure hasMark's head on a pike in the gym. You almost miss that he is beginning to gather his things and ready himself to go out to the ring.

You still haven't given him any sort of good luck; no pep talk, no awkward friendship bracelet, no bouquet of cheap flowers. Why were you even here then? You wonder if he is disappointed, he did specifically say 'are you going to give me some good luck?' yesterday and here you show up empty-handed. But the last thing you want is to leave him with no sort of confirmation that you wish him the best.

Before he can leave, you are quick to make a move, "Mark-" You stop him with a grab to his wrist, crimson orbs look over broad shoulders to meet your own, "You said you needed good luck before the game..." What are you doing? You have nothing to give or show...

Markwaits in suspense, he had entirely forgotten the very words he said yesterday. He didn't mean it he was just teasing you a little like he always does. But the fact you remembered? He is flattered, albeit confused because he doesn't see anything in your hands and you don't have a bag or pockets on you... his head wanders, maybe a kiss? He would be more than just happy with that, through the roof even!

But as he watches you, tense where you stand and caught in some sort of conflict, the last thing he expects is to see you bend forward. He isn't quite sure what it is you're doing at first, but then your hands shimmy up and under your skirt.

What makes it even more of a smack to his face is when he sees something pink and lacy being slipped down your legs. Maybe it was how dumbfounded he was, but until you slipped your pretty legs out from the fabric and hold it out for him, does he realize that little pink lace is your panties, "A-A good luck charm for Red Riot from his... from his number one fan."

The two of you stand there for what seems like forever, did you kill him? He looks almost dead where he stands, his eyes wide, and locked on the bundle of fabric in your hand. You almost worry you did too much, "Kick some ass." You quickly take his hand and shove your panties in them, hurrying out the room with the most flustered yet satisfied grin on your face. You did it, sure it may have been a bit much, but your feelings are out there and the ball is in his field. Now it's his job to decide whether he accepts it or not.

You hurry out to the back building, knowing your father is most likely being driven up the wall by not knowing where you are. You concoct an excuse in your head, you were just in the bathroom because something you ate didn't sit right. He would believe that, right? He's always doting after you like you're still his little princess dressing up and walking around in sequins and glitter.

The building is a lot more crowded than you expected, but it is easy to find your father after shimmying through the crowd, "Where the hell were you, y/n? I was asking everyone and running around like crazy, I thought some psycho had-" You stop him with a gentle pat to his back, oh if only daddy knew what exactly it was you were doing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, right? You're here, and you better be making sure you leeches don't go over and try to steal snacks."

Almost directly after, your father is surfing through the crowd to try and sell gym merch, memberships, popcorn, and peanuts. He has always been a businessman at heart, and you are anything but shocked to see him with his bag of random foods and trinkets to sell to customers.

The chaos doesn't last long, the familiar ring of the bell that calls attention to the crowd has the room quieting. You are familiar with the process of hyping up the crowd, when you were little and watching boxing matches on television with your father, you would imitate the spokesperson to make him laugh. You always wanted to do something like that, have all eyes on you as you do nothing but talk.

But you grew out of it inevitably, though it doesn't mean watching someone else do it makes it any less enjoyable, "Anyway, let me stop boring you all with meaningless conversation... let me welcome the man representing this very ring, Red Riot!" Everything else was a blur, Mark happily coming out, but if anyone could tell something was off it was you. The way his eyes wolfishly searched the crowds, as if he is expecting something or someone to be there...

Only after the spokesperson finishes introducing the redhead to the crowd of wild and returning fans, does he return to that strange behavior of looking around, he doesn't even pay attention to his opponent who is trying to antagonize and rile him up. What you least expect is for him to walk straight across the ring to where you are and lean down so you can get a good look at his face, "You're crazy," He whispers with one of the scariest smiles you've ever seen, "I think I figured out what we could do before dinner, you better be in that dressing room when this is over."

If anything could describe the things you felt right then, it would be both fear and excitement. Especially when he shamelessly reaches through the ring, knowing your father is completely distracted and grabs you by the collar of your shirt, and pulls you forward. You trip over your own feet, holding down your skirt when you remember you gave your panties to the crimson-haired man that has you in the palm of his hand.

Mark presses the sweetest kiss to your cheek, and if it weren't for the fact you both were in public, you would have grabbed his face and smashed your lips right onto his. But you take what you can get and flash him your prettiest smile before he has to let you go and return his attention to the man he is supposed to fight.

Everything feels surreal, your fingers constantly reaching up to touch the exact spot his soft lips had found your skin. God, if you were to die you would be totally fine with it after having that kiss, the match feels like a blur. Usually, you are ready to cheer him on, but now? All you can manage to do is watch and wait for it to be over, and with the way, the fight is going? You're certain the poor guy he is against is going to fall any second. 

Mark dodges the third punch the guy has thrown, you're starting to think he is growing desperate and exhausted. Why else is he just throwing random and uncoordinated punches? You've seen it a thousand times before, they always start going wild when they are tired and desperate. And you know Mark well, he isn't a fan of a sloppy opponent. This is why, although you flinched, you're also not surprised by the force he puts into his punch to humble the man in front of him. You hate how messy things can get, the sweat on them, blood... it's like watching two wild bears claw at one another's throats.

"Ouch! Looks like you're gonna pass out there, buddy... thinking of calling it quits and handing the win to Red?" You wish he would say yes, that he would just give up and let Mark have it for the night. You can barely find it in you to worry over some boxing match when he demanded you to meet him in his room. All of these scenarios are burning through your head, and even if it isn't what you want, you would be more than happy with another kiss.

Between the punches and swings, the blood you just noticed was dripping from Mark's nose and onto the lips he had kissed you with, it is all so overwhelming in addition to your hormones going crazy. You have never wished for a boxing match withMark to be over so badly, and it isn't even that you don't want to see him fight! You just want to see him elsewhere, specifically in private... specifically where he is undressed.

But when you see the man get Mark in a headlock, your heart drops for a second, he has this, right? You know he does, but you hate how long it's taking him to get out of that. You always get nervous for him when he takes a few seconds too long to take the advantage back, "Oh, do we have a possible turn around?" You can't stand him being stuck like that.

The only thing you know that could possibly give him the energy he needs to get out of that headlock is someone cheering for him. And sure the whole room is cheering from him, but he specifically told you, 'hearing you cheer is different from hearing everyone else, so use your voice!'

With all you have, you take a deep breath and cup your mouth to amplify your voice, "You got this,Mark!" And if anyone can pick your name from the crowd, it is him. It's like watching someone suddenly going through a drug boost, the way his arms coming up and tug himself free of the grasp around his head, all you can do is continue to cheer for him until he finally lands a good enough punch stun the guy. Red eyes find you in the crowd, and although he looks scary with the swollen lip and blood from his nose, you still get butterflies when he gives you that charming smile and a wink.

"Never mind, Red Riot has once again held his ground! Don't forget to place your bets in the back on who will win and possibly receive a free gym membership for two months!" It feels like you have been standing there for a million years, the snack table isn't even at the top of your priority list right now, you couldn't care less if they stole everything including the table!

The fight is already in the hands of the very man you have been cheering for this whole time, you didn't doubt it for a second. It is only a matter of either that man tapping out or Mark knocking him out and you don't care which it is. You are on the tips of your toes with how things are looking, Mark has insane stamina but you can tell he is getting a little fed up and tired, "Knock him out, Mark!" 

He lands a punch to the abdomen, the man curling over to armor his stomach, which anyone knows is the worst thing you can do. Right then and there, you knew it was over, especially when right after Mark knocks him directly in the nose and the guy goes falling back. He may not be unconscious, but his body language, the wooziness to his movements... you know he is finished.

"Aaaand~" Everyone counts down from three, "We have checkmate! But are we surprised with who is the winner? No!" You don't even listen to what the man has to say, not when the referee climbs the ring to hold Red Riot's fist in the air, a formal symbol that he has taken this week's fight. 

And when he looks right at you with that goofy smile of his, you can't help but to practically jumping in place with your biggest smile, blowing him a kiss. Of course, you didn't forget his demand for you to meet him in the dressing room. The moment you see him climbing out of the ring, you are high tailing out of that building. Could your father be calling for you? Maybe. Do you care? Absolutely not.

Not when you are holding down your skirt and running double-time right out of that humid building to get to where you need to be. Every muscle in your body is aching, every nerve aflame. If you could describe what it was you were feeling, it's like teetering over the edge right before you cum. To feel everything in your body working, like a thousand electric shocks straight to your core. 

You're so focused on getting down that hallway and into that room, your ears are deaf to the oncoming footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, "Gotcha!" A scream catches in your throat when you recognize the arms that wrap around your midsection and pick you up, no one else wears black arm sleeves like this, "C'mere." His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look back at him just so his lips could finally meet yours.

And you should be disgusted by the blood from his nose rubbing off on your upper lip, or how you can taste the iron on your tongue. But you have waited so long to kiss him like this, even if it wasn't you imagined a hundred times over, it feels better than you could ever concoct in your imaginative brain. His lips are not at all chapped, they are soft and plush and perfectly mold with yours. 

Only when his tongue playfully swipes at your bottom teeth do the two of you break apart for air, eyes locked together in a moment of silence. You've never felt like this, as if you have a million and one little feathers moving around all inside of you, "I don't what I'm gonna do to you first." His voice is like a growl against your nape, the vibrations deep and rumbling into your sensitive skin.

He doesn't let you go yet, his arms remain tight around your torso as he carries you in front of him the rest of the way to the room with your toes barely touching the ground, "What are you going to- ah~!" Your eyes tear up when he sinks his teeth into your neck, slamming the door behind him with his heel, "M-Mark... mm~" He doesn't let up on your neck, sucking at the already darkening bite mark he has created. If someone were to tell you that you would be in this situation, with Mark Markholding you snug against his front and forcing you to bend over the vanity in his dressing room, you wouldn't believe them.

"Fuck, I was so close to grabbing you and dragging you right back in here when you gave me these," He digs your panties from his pocket, "You thought that was cute, huh? Tugging these off right in front of me like that?" You know he isn't expecting an answer, but you can't expect but to give him the smuggest nod you can while looking at him in the mirror, "You think you're so cute, don't you?"

The way he speaks with you, it's almost on the dot with every fantasy you have had. To feel like the perfect bittersweet brat just for him, if this is the reaction you will get then you plan to push his buttons more often. Every word that leaves him has you further hooked on his line and you will do anything just for him to keep whispering those things in your ear, for him to grab your face and make you meet his eyes.

"I wanna kiss again..." You give him your sweetest pout, doing your best to peer over your shoulder and trying to reach behind you to bring him closer, but he is having none of your little needinesses. Your hands are gathered easily in one of his big palms, pinned in front of you at the desk, "Mark, please~" 

He gives you a shake of his head, his free hand coming up to grab your chin and keep you still for him, "Nuh-uh, look at you..." His thumb swipes at your upper lip, "Got blood all over you, babe..." You felt it and tasted it the moment you kissed him, but you couldn't care less, your tongue dragging over your upper lip to clean it up. And you didn't miss the wolfish look in his eyes, watching your tongue drag over that blood and smear it even more.

Before your tongue can retract back into your mouth, he is quick to lean forward and press his lips to yours so his tongue can pry its way into your mouth. You don't fight it either, this is exactly what you had wanted and you are getting it. His tongue tastes like mint and a hint of iron from his busted bottom lip, but it is all good to you, if you could you would dance your tongue with his until you were on the brink of asphyxiation.

But you know that isn't possible, not when he is already pulling away from the kiss in favor of leaving a trail of them down your tender neck. It tickles, but you take it like you're supposed to, only somewhat flinching when he finds the bruise he had already left. It feels like needles, burning under the playful tracing of his tongue over the bite marks in your flesh. 

"Jerk..." You're silenced with a sharp spank, and you should be whining over it, but you've wanted this time and time again. You have no room to complain that it left your poor ass burning, not when it has you craving another. He likes your little resistance, how you give him something to dance around. As much as he enjoys the idea of you being his submissive little lamb, this little game you have going on is all the more interesting.

Without warning the bottom of your skirt is tugged up, your bare and wet pussy coming right into view, "Look at you, walking around with nothing under this... I bet you enjoyed that, look at how wet you are." Mark's hand is so hot on your ass, tugging it to pull your pussy nice and open for him to look at. You look so soft, so sweet, if he could he would take a nice bite out of you right now.

"Fuck, you think you can fit it?" You try to answer, you really do, but you can't stop focusing on his hand mocking you. The way it slowly circles your ass, the pad of his thumb barely grazing at your slit, "You want it, don't you?" You nod slowly while watching him through the mirror, how his abdominal muscles flex with every movement of his body, the sweat that sticks to his skin, not to mention the evident strain in his pants.

Everything feels hot, from the tip of your nose down to your toes, it's like you've been engulfed in hellfire... in a good way. Everything he does to you feels good, even if it's just locking eyes with you in the mirror, or readjusting your hips to take in every dip, curve, and roll on your pretty self. It doesn't matter what he does, and you know that the reason he has you so worked up is simply that it is him.

You are aware that the two of you are strapped for time, being here and like this is as unconventional as it can get. You know you can't be too loud, and you both can't take as long as you want, but you plan to make the most of it. If anything, you still have time to possibly exchange that dinner date for something else and you're sureMark wouldn't mind that, not with how you can feel his breath down your spine.

As much as you dreamed of your first encounter with him to be romantic, the moment you slipped off your panties and put them in his hand drew the line between a romantic night out and the potential that night you both won't be able to keep your hands to yourselves, "You're gonna watch me fuck you," He points at the mirror for you to look, not that you haven't been staring at yourselves through it this whole time, "I want you to see the slutty faces you make."

For a moment, you actually believed that he would finally fuck you, as foolish as that is, but rather than pulling off his own pants he is guiding you to sit on the vanity desk with your front showing in the mirror. The awkward position forces your pretty thighs open, giving you a look at just how ruined your pretty little cunny is, how your slick sticks to it and dribbles just a little onto the vanity you are sat on.

No words are exchanged between the both of you, his eyes are locked on your changing expression while yours are locked on his wandering hands. His fingers snake their way from your waist, gradually moving upward and under your shirt. His palms are rough and calloused, still wrapped in the gauze you had done prior to the fight, pulling at the sensitive skin of your torso. The fabric has the hairs on your neck standing up and when his large hands grope your tits through your bra you feel a familiar electric shock goes straight to your core.

"What're you making that face for?" You hadn't realized the way your face scrunched up in response to his hands, and the cocky smirk on his face only makes you all the more embarrassed, "Are you sensitive here...?" To test his intuition, his fingers push under your bra to feel at your bare tits, grinning at how soft they are and the way they fit so nicely in his palms.

You hate how it makes you feel, how every swipe of his thumb over your nipple has your hips bucking just a little, "M-Mark... mm- ah!" You're caught off guard by the mean pinch he gives your pert nipples, giving the sensitive buds an observant twist, watching your every reaction and every little twitch of those soft thighs. You look perfect, completely at his mercy and leaning back into him as his hands do what they please under your shirt, "Hah... y-you don't have to be so harsh..."

"No?" You shake your head in response, a cute little pout pulling at your bottom lip, "But I like how you react and look," One of his hands pull from beneath your shirt in favor of hiking up the bottom of your skirt to reveal your swollen and dripping pussy, "You seem to like it, too... making a mess all over yourself." He isn't wrong, you love it. You love the burn of your nipples with every painful twist, how your tits feel sore from his tight squeezes.

But simply touching them aren't enough for him, he wants to see them. You're already a pretty little thing, he doesn't doubt for a second your tits will only add to the list of things he likes about it. As well as to the list of things that turn him on, you being at the very top of that list.

You peer over your shoulder expectantly, eyes flicking from his down to his lips, you give him the only hint he needs to lean forward and slot his lips with yours. His tongue tastes just as good in your mouth as it did before, dancing teasingly and brush under your tongue. It's a wet, icky feeling but also one you wouldn't want to share with anyone but him. And with you so distracted by his tongue dancing with yours and tracing over your teeth, it gives him the perfect chance to do as he pleases.

One hand is swift with guiding your shirt up and over your tits, and it doesn't take much effort for his two fingers to get the clasp behind your back to snap open. The only obstacle being the straps that prevent him from completely taking the article of clothing off, but you're already on it, all without breaking the kiss you are sharing with him. While you work your arms out of the straps but also keeping your shirt on just in case you two have to make a run for it, Mark focuses his attention on your spread legs.

Opening just one of his eyes allows him to see the arousal that sticks to your cunny shimmers against the light of the room, all he has done was kiss you and play with your tits... you're a perverted girl, getting this wet over nothing, he bets you were thinking things that would leave even him a little shocked. Maybe later he will make it his mission to drag those fantasies out of you.

With the way you're situated on the vanity, feet planted on the desk as to give him the best view of your entire body in the mirror, it is easy for you to spread your legs impossibly wider for his hand that continues to slowly travel down your navel. The kiss breaks, only for you to little his jaw and neck with kisses, stopping right under his ear to begin sucking your own hickey into the sensitive skin.

Nothing could have prepared you for when his fingers finally met your throbbing clit, dragging over the neglected nerve, barely applying pressure with how he circles your clit and smears your arousal over your pussy, "You're a messy little thing, aren't you?" A pathetic hum of agreement passes your lips at his question, one you know he didn't expect you to answer. But he doesn't pay too much attention to that, not when he is dragging his fingers down between your folds to spread you open, "Fuck, you're so tight..."

Mark prods his middle finger at your not-yet-prepped entrance, watching how your walls suck his finger inside in desperation for some sort of relief. All this teasing and beating around the bush has your poor insides churning from the suspense. It's only one finger, but just as you expected that one finger feels a million times better than your two fingers. He knows how to curl them, to rub at the spongy patches inside of you, "Mm~! I-It feels good there..."

"Where?" He coos at your relaxed expression, "Here?" His finger rudely jabs at the spot he knows is making every muscle in your body go lax, to which you flash him a less than pleasant glare, "I'm just playing with you." His index finger is careful with how it slowly eases itself inside, pushing in with your middle fingers and getting you used to the stretch. It feels good, no discomfort in the slightest, and you can assume it's because of the way he continues to mess with that single spot that had your knees buckling.

His fingers push in as far as they can go just to mess with your walls, grinding and curling at the sensitive patches of nerves, only to remove both fingers entirely just to give your poor clit a few wet pats, "Ngh-Markiii, stop teasing it hurts..." He knows it does, he can see it in your twisted expression with every tap your clit receives, how you go from relaxing in his arms to flinching at the abuse.

But he can't help himself, not with how adorable you look bucking into his hand when he circles your clit, or your thighs twitching at the intrusion of his fingers. You look stunning, grabbing at his wrist when he is too rough, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. If it means seeing you continue to make such soft noises and to continue to breathe out his name like that, he'll keep doing what he has to do.

"If you don't want me teasing you, what do you want?" Oh, he can tell you weren't ready for that. It reads entirely in your flustered expression, and his fingers continuing to pump inside of you aren't doing anything to help... especially with the lewd squelching sounds your cunny just can't seem to stop making. It's humiliating, to say the least, how your pussy sucks his fingers inside desperately, the eroticism of watching his fingers disappear inside of you.

"M-Mark...: You don't even want to say all the things you want him to do to you, how do you tell him you've always wanted this? That night and night again you have touched yourself to the thought of him doing just about everything to you, from bouncing you in his lap, riding his face, bending you over, and having his way with you. You don't know where to start.

Mark can read it in your eyes that you have your words lodged in your throat, "If you don't tell me, this is all you're gonna get," He emphasizes his words with the pats of his fingers against your clit, "So be a good girl and speak up." You know he won't let you go until you give him exactly what he wants, the words are right on the tip of your tongue!

Your breath gets caught in your throat when his fingers slip out from your cunny, only to begin rubbing your clit back and forth, "I-I..." You squeak as he only seems to be rougher with you, purposely making you trip over your own words, "Mark~ fuck, fuck fuck-" Your fingers dig into his wrist, "I-I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-" A strangled breath gets caught in your throat when he quickly pulls his fingers from your clit, "W-Wait, I was close,Mark!"

"Answer me and I'll let you cum." 

His lips on your throat make it all the more difficult, but without the added pressure of his fingers abusing your poor cunny, you finally muster up the words to tell him, "I want you..." He gives you that look, the one that shows he expects more, "I want you inside me-"

"What do you want inside?" He coos, fingers brushing under your chin to bring your focus to him, "My fingers?" You shake your head with a subtle smile, "Hm... this?" He sticks out his tongue at you, only to earn himself another shake of your head. He feigns ignorance, pretending he has no idea what you could be possibly talking about. 

Your sneaky fingers reach behind you, Mark didn't even notice because of how absorbed he was with your cute tits, cupping at the bulge in his pants, "This..." He didn't expect you to be so bold, not after how stubborn you were just being, but he likes the playful squeeze you give him, "Does that answer your question?" Your snooty little comment earns a sharp pinch to your clit.

"Yeah, it does," Through the mirror you can see him undoing the belt that holds up his pants, watching the cargo material fall around his thighs and revealing just how strained his aroused cock is against his briefs, "C'mon, get down and bend over the desk." You didn't expect him to be so quick to give you what you want, but deep down you think he still has something up his sleeve.

Without arguing, you climb down from the vanity as you were told, watching Mark in the mirror as you lean forward and put your weight on the desk. As much as you were watching him, he was also watching you. His eyes dragging down the curve of your back to your soaked pussy peaking from under the hem of your shirt, he has imagined this very scenario time and time again, and here you are right in front of him.

Somehow the real thing requires so much more thought than if it were only in his head, knowing whether you're okay, making sure you're not uncomfortable. No longer is it all just him and his dirty thoughts, he has to worry about your feelings too. And he is fine with that, but he never expected himself to feel like he has two tons on his shoulders by simply looking at you. It's one thing for you to be in his head bent over, but for you to be bent over actually in front of him? Well, let's just say his nerves aren't cooperating.

Maybe you noticed this, enough that briefly stand up from your previous position to meet his gaze, "I'm kinda nervous..." If he knows it isn't just him that's a little fearful of the unknown, there is a possibility it could bring back his confidence, "We can start slow and find our flow, right? that's how it's supposed to be." You're right, and he knows you are, maybe it was the thought that you had these high expectations that were making him nervous.

Little does he realize, as much as you want to be pretty enough and good enough for him, he wants to be just the same for you. But seeing the way you look at him, no sort of judgment or expectancy behind your eyes, giving him your signature smile, helps to melt all of that frustration and uncertainty away. You've always been good at doing that.

He isn't sure what came over him to cup your cheeks like that and pull you into a kiss, and sure the two of you knocked teeth from how urgent the kiss was at first, but the passion behind the kiss seemed to cast every sliver of doubt and second-guessing aside. All of your focus is on him, and his focus is on you in that very moment. 

The electricity that surges through you with every push of your lips against his, tugging at his lip only for him to bite back and do the same to you. It's like you two found a middle ground, the kiss connecting you both in a way nothing else could, blindly guiding you two in the position you both need to feel comfortable. Somehow you finding yourself seated on the vanity desk and his hips between your spread thighs.

You break the kiss, lungs burning from holding your breath for as long as you could, eyes falling down between your spread legs, "Ah..." Your breath catches at the sight of him beginning to push inside, you didn't get a well enough look at how big he is, but the feeling alone is a little unnerving. You aren't even sure how much is in, but it feels like more than you truly think it is.

"Don't pay attention to that," His voice is hushed, grabbing your attention and making you pick your head back up, "Does it hurt?" To be honest, it doesn't, it's more like this full stretch that is only slightly discomforting. Something you weren't prepared for but believe you can handle. You shake your head, not wanting him to think he is doing something wrong, which he isn't.

His hair looks so soft, albeit messy because of the fight, but nonetheless still silky and you can't keep your fingers from combing into it, "I want another kiss," Your fingers tug the tie from his hair and watch the red locks fall to lay over his broad shoulders, "Unless you're too nervous to kiss me, hm?" 

Your challenge ignites a fire within his chest, you sure know what things to say and when to get him riled up. And what you just said about him being too nervous? Oh, he isn't having it. Mark doesn't even need to speak for you to see the "game on" look in his eyes, and it doesn't make you any more shocked when his hand finds your throat and uses it to pull you forward.

The air is knocked from your lungs at the jerk of your body forward to meet him halfway, but you don't complain for a second, not when he gives you the confidence you had thought disappeared. It feels good to have that authoritative role back in him, for him to be taking back control with how he wants you and what he wants to do to you. Through the sloppy kiss that he has you locked in, you can feel your body being laid back on the vanity.

To your surprise, you have enough room to properly lay back, and with that Mark takes advantage of it. The desk perfectly supports your weight, allowing him the chance to grab your right leg and hoist it over his shoulder to create a more open angle for him to have you in. Immediately you can tell the difference in the feeling with this position, it pushes deeper at your walls rather than just rubbing past those spongy patches.

"Ngh... fuck, th-there it..." You can't form the right words to tell him how good it feels, even with the slow and controlled pace he has set for you, "Mark, I can take more. Please." You don't even try to hide the need in your tone, how it comes out as almost a whine rather than a polite little request. And he doesn't mind the demand, if you need more he is going to give it to you. After all, you're used to being daddy's little princess.

"You really think you can take more?" You nod your head, your hum of affirmation coming out as a moan, "Yeah? I don't think you can." His words contradict his actions, his back arching forward as he picks up the pace. No longer is the room echoing with nothing but moans and the obnoxiously wet sounds of your overwhelmed cunny, but the added volume of skin slapping skin makes what you both are doing here all the riskier. 

His cock is ruthless, no matter the pace he uses you can feel every vein and the slight curve of his member, it feels too much even if he isn't giving you enough. The size itself is a problem, and he likes to use that to tease you; you're too small, you can't take it... it doesn't matter. If he finds a way to make you feel little and weak in comparison to him? He goes for it.

And you don't mind, you like the dominance, how he keeps you pinned down with one hand on your throat and the other pinning your left thigh down. You feel completely at his mercy where you lay, unable to do anything but take it, "Mark, fuck, fuck-" 

"Shh," He warns you, "Don't forget where we are." And you haven't, the whole time you two have been doing this all you could do was worry over someone walking in or by or something, "Don't need your father finding out his little girl is getting her sloppy pussy stretched open... and it'll make it worse if he finds out I'm the one doing it." You know that, but you're a big girl, you don't need your father's permission to get laid!

Unfortunately, you keep that attitude too. Why should you have to keep quiet? You're having fun, that's no one's business but yours and Mark's. "B-But... but I like it-" You gasp when your right leg is brought down from your shoulder in favor of both knees being pinned to your shoulders, "Ah- too much, too much, too much~!" 

Mark, as much as he loves your sexy moans and cutesy whimpers, he doesn't love the idea of either of you getting caught like this, and what better way to fix the noise problem than shoving the panties you kindly give him right in your mouth? And it's only better that the pink of your panties looks nice hanging from your glossy lips. 

"That's what you get, babe..." He pants out each word and adds salt to the wound by flashing a cocky grin, "Bad girls who can't keep quiet when they're told get dirty panties in their mouth." If only he knew the things he was doing to you, the strikes to your core his cock cause, how his intimidating dominance over you has your insides turning, "But you don't need your voice to make you feel good, right? Look at you..."

It's ironic that he asks you to take a look at yourself, a mirror is just behind you and you can't see yourself from this angle. Luckily for you, your redhead is one step ahead to make sure you can really see how slutty you look right now with those panties shoved in your mouth. Mark takes your hips, wordlessly guiding you to turn around onto your stomach and plant your feet back on the ground.

You are forced to look yourself in the eyes, to see the little tears pricking the corners of your eyes, look at your swollen lips and your panties, and to make it all the more humiliating, Mark is standing right behind you. He is staring right at you, making sure you know he is there and watching you, and if that doesn't make you nervous... you aren't sure what does.

A hand comes down to grip your chin, fixing your head to look straight at the mirror and more specifically yourself, "Don't look away from that mirror, understood?" His voice is at least two octaves lower than before, rumbling in the pit of his chest and vibrating against your back. It shakes your core, but in the best way possible, tingles running up your spine and back down.

It isn't long before the warmth and fullness of his cock is sinking back inside of your gummy walls, making itself comfortable deep inside of you to the point his tip kisses gently at your cervix, "It's all the way in, y/n..." He whispers into your ear, "You ready? You think you can take all of it?" The only right answer is to nod your head, humming desperately and letting him know you're ready, you want it. And who is he to deny that? His pretty girl wants her cunny stretched, why shouldn't he give in and let her have it just how she wants? 

Unlike before he doesn't let you prepare yourself, oh no, the pace went from zero all the way to one hundred in exactly one second. It was like being plowed into, the force of his hips bouncing you off and into the desk. And if you looked horrible and worn out before, you looked twice as bad now. Your sparkly eyes rolling back to make way for the oncoming flow of tears, your entire body trembling with his thrusts.

"Mmph~! Nngh-" Even through the panties he can hear you, muffled and incoherent but still like music to his ears. You take him so well, struggling maybe, but you don't complain for a second about him being too big... and it probably is because your panties are down your throat. But if you really did need him to stop, he is sure you would find another way.

"Feels good, right?" He can't tell if you're nodding or that's just your head moving in sync with his forceful jerks, "Having this little pussy nice and filled... bet you couldn't wait for this the entire match, right?" If you were able to answer, you would be screaming yes from the hills! But instead, you can only stare him in the eyes through the mirror, tears and all, and he can see just how drunk you are on his cock. A pretty whore for him to fuck.

If he had known you were such a perverted slut, so needy to have a dick train you, he would have grabbed you by your cheeky yoga leggings and made you ride his dick while he did bench presses. And seeing you like this? You would have done it without question.

"You're getting all tense, y/n..." His eyes trail down to watch himself disappearing inside of you, and the ripple of your ass smacking his hips, "You gonna cum? This pretty cunt gonna make a mess for me?" You're more than just close to cumming, it's like a fire in the pits of your core, and every pass of his member inside of you has your thighs jumping and twitching, "Yeah, that's it, babe."

Oh, you wish he wouldn't call you that, the things it does to you... and the overwhelming pleasure of his tip plunging into your poor cervix? You feel like you're on the verge of passing out, "Don't look away," He keeps your head straight and makes you look straight ahead at yourself, "Watch yourself cum." You aren't even sure if you have it in you to hold it in long enough to properly look at yourself, let alone the energy to keep your head up.

Your eyes are locked on the mirror, your breath fogging it up with the forceful pants your lungs push out. If you were wearing makeup, you're sure it would be leaving streaks down your cheeks from the tears. They aren't tears of pain, not even close, but rather ones of overstimulation. You aren't sure how much longer you can last, but you don't have time to dwell over it, not when you watch the hand not pinning your waist to the vanity snakes down between your legs.

If the panties weren't in your mouth, you would be protesting and begging him not to. You aren't sure you could handle it! His cock is already tearing your poor cunny in half, his fingers will surely break you. But you can only watch in fear, and anxiously wait for his fingers to meet your throbbing pearl between your legs.

"Mmph~! Mm-" Your nails dig into the desk and back arches to try and get away from his fingers, but Mark doesn't give up, "Mm! Mmm~!" He knows you're protesting, he knows it's too much for your sensitive little cunny. But he wants to see you come undone, to see more of your pretty tears and those sparkly eyes roll back in absolute bliss. And with the vicious pace his fingers inflict on your burning clit, you aren't far from that edge.

"That's it, babe... that's it, I wanna taste this pussy when finish. I bet you taste so sweet, just as sweet as you look right now..." And he isn't lying, you've never looked as stunning as you do right now. No angel could compare to you, nothing. The sweat coating your skin and your juices tainting the apex of your thighs, "I got you, baby-"

He doesn't have the chance to finish his pep talk before he feels you come undone beneath him, your squeals and whimpers completely muffled by your stuffed mouth. Your poor nerves going off of the wall, thighs jumping and nails digging at the wood of the vanity, and your pussy squirting all over his cock and onto your thighs. You're embarrassed by the mess, but to Mark? It is the biggest ego stroker he could have encountered... he got you to squirt.

"Fuck, good girl, good fucking girl..." Mark slows the thrusts, as much as he wants to cum he can see how worn out you are, "Take a deep breath, princess. Just like that," You try your best to do as he asks, but it's so difficult with how quick your climax comes and the panties being in your mouth. You put all of your weight on the vanity, fingers clawing at it as if it could help ease the electricity shooting through every inch of you.

Mark sees you and he thinks he may have been too rough, "Shh, c'mere." The panties are taken from your mouth, saliva soaked into the thin fabric and sticking to your chin, "You okay?" Fingers, although rough and calloused, gently brush over your cheek to gather your tears, he worries he may have forgotten himself somewhere and been too hard on you. 

And your expression, weak and twisted, for a moment makes him feel horrible. What had he done? This was his first time having sex with you, something he has wanted for so long, and he just screwed it up. His eyes watched your every move, lips opening to say something and hesitating for a minute, you were probably pissed at him.

"Y-You..." Little tears prick at your eyes and he panics, "You didn't even cum inside of me, was I not doing enough?" For a moment, silence befalls the both of you other than your pathetic little sniffles. Were you really... that worried over him finishing? Is that really what has you on the verge of crying? If he could, he would eat you up right where you stand in front of him, you're too cute.

Two hands cup your swollen cheeks and bring your face close, "You want me to cum inside of you? That's what you worked up?" You nod your head all while leaning into his hands, "You're so cute, but I think you need to take a break, babe. You're shaking." He can tell you're teetering right at the edge of too much, he fears if he does anymore he may actually hurt you.

"But I want..." He shakes his head and kisses the tip of your nose, "Then... Then I'll suck it off." You won't let up so easily, he just gave you the best climax of your life, and if he thinks you'll let him walk out of this room with blue balls he is more than just wrong. 

Mark wants to argue, he knows you should clean yourself up and you both should get out of here. He isn't even sure what time it is or how long it has been, the fights could very well be over and neither of you has any clue. But what harm can you getting on your knees do? Maybe give you a sore throat, but he is sure with how loud you were, muffled or not, you are already on the train to a strained voice.

"Make it quick, I still wanna take you to dinner." Even after all of this, somehow taking you to dinner may just be the highlight of the night. Sex is great, but for Mark Markit is the intimate, quiet moments that mean the world to him. All those times you would open early or stay late with him, he cherished those memories. Unlike him, you could not care less about dinner or memorable moments or anything, you're far more focused on what his cum might taste like. You've thought of it a million times, and finally, you will be able to know. 

You ease yourself onto your knees in front of him, Mark fixing his pants out of your way and leaning back against the desk as he watches you make yourself comfortable. If he thought you looked beautiful lying underneath him with your knees by your ears, he isn't sure what to call you on your knees. Your gorgeous eyes looking at him through those lashes of yours, tongue dragging out and over your lips.

"Don't hurt yourself, pretty girl... I saw you struggling before when I started picking up the pace." You don't like being talked down to, but you know that's just him trying to get you worked up and you won't let him have that satisfaction. 

All of your weight is put onto your knees as you lean forward, the tip of your warm tongue licking your own cum from his cock, "Be nice to me or I'll use my teeth." He can't argue with that, and he knows you will do it. Your tongue drags over the veins, tracing them carefully, breath hot and fanning over his ready-to-burst member. If he had it his way, he would grab your pretty face and fuck this squishy mouth of yours, but he already pushed it and he wants you to go at your pace now.

"Fuck, that's good... tap it on your tongue for me," You stick out your tongue and do as he says, "Shiiiit, you look so hot right now." You know you do, if anyone could see the hearts in Mark's eyes, it's you... and those hearts are practically jumping out while he watches you rubbing your tongue over his messy dick, doing everything but putting it in your mouth, "C'mon, y/n... please."

"You want me to put it in my mouth?" You feign innocence while looking up at him, giving him puppy eyes and suckling at his tip. Mark nods breathlessly, even so much as adding an extra, needy please to really show you how much he wants it. He was so kind to give you exactly what you want, it would mean not to do the same for him!

Making yourself comfortable, you open your mouth wide enough to fit his tip inside, tasting that sweetness of your juices on your tongue. Is this what heaven feels like? For him to be guiding your mouth on his dick, cooing words of praise every time you successfully ease the tip in your throat without hurting yourself or choking too much.

The two of you see, hear, and know nothing but each other at this moment. Eyes locked together and no sound other than him breathing shakily and the rare pass of your name on his tongue, mixed in with the disgusting wet sounds of your throat stretching over him. You two wouldn't have been able to pick up on the footsteps coming down the hall, or the call of two very familiar names who just so happen to be missing at the same time.

And neither of you would have been prepared for the door to open, let alone, for the one person both of you feared catching you to be standing in the doorway in shock, horror... and Mark locked eyes for just a second, a second that allowed to see the seven layers of hell in your father's eyes, before the door slammed shut and feet moved down the hall faster than you could pull off of Mark's cock. 

"I... I think we should get out of here before he comes back."

[withacapitalp]

(Okay I saw a post about a premise similar to this but I cannot find it for the life of me. Anyway I loved it so much that I had to write a version of it myself. A post s2 AU!) Now with Part Two

Steve was never exactly the most perceptive person in the world. 

He missed all of the signals that Nancy had given him, every sign that had pointed to their failing relationship. He hadn’t seen the moments that proved she was right about everything going on in their town either. Steve overlooked important details in his college applications, and took shots in basketball that almost always missed. He even sometimes walked right into walls these days, because his spacial awareness had kinda been shot since Billy smashed a plate over his head fifteen days ago. 

A lot of that could be forgiven, but, this…

Well this was a little bit obtuse, even for him. 

“You know you’re sitting at our table, right, King Steve?” 

Steve looked up from his Tuna Surprise, resisting the urge to flinch at both the blinding light from the windows in the cafeteria and the nickname he hated so much. Eddie Munson stared back, carrying a lunch tray in one hand and his signature metal lunch box in the other. 

“Your humble court is awaiting you on the haves side of this blessed cookery. This side is where the dweebs and the nerds parlay. A single place we get a reprieve from the endless bombardment of the average” Munson continued, flinging his arms to and fro, gesturing to the group of teens behind him who were staring at Steve like he was dirt under the bottom of their shoes. 

He hadn’t understood the majority of what Eddie had just said to him, but those looks were enough to give Steve the gist. He was not welcome here.��

“Sorry,” He muttered, grabbing his tray and sliding it to the other end of the table. He took a deep breath the second he was alone again, letting the tension melt away from his body as he collapsed back in his seat. 

Even though he was no longer welcome to sit at his old table, Steve probably could have gone and eaten in the library with Nancy and Jonathan. They had awkwardly invited him to join them a few times since everything had gone down, but he always said no. 

It was better this way. Better to be alone. Better to not have to watch the two of them try and hide how much happier they were now that they could be together. They deserved that happiness, Nancy deserved that happiness, and Steve refused to be the one to make her try and stifle any of that. 

He had hurt her enough already. 

“What happened to your face?”

Once again Eddie dragged Steve out of his thoughts. He was standing over Steve’s head, nearly hovering on top of him, watching Steve like he was trying to work him out. Like Steve was a particularly complex puzzle that he could solve just with his eyes. 

Nancy had always looked at him that way. Steve had hated it when it was her, and he hated it even more coming from Munson now. 

“Got into a fight,” Steve grunted, stabbing at his shitty cafeteria food and hoping that his abrasiveness would be enough to get Munson to leave him alone.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he could say now that they had all signed another round of NDAs, but he was pretty sure even talking about this was toeing the line. It was safer all around to get Eddie to go away as quickly as possible. 

It wouldn’t be all that hard. Usually all it took were a few well placed bitchy comments to get people to see the picture and give up on him. The only group of people who hadn’t been perturbed by Steve’s spikiness was the kids. They had shown up at his house pretty much daily since the gate had closed, and had even taken to begging on him for rides to and from school. 

Dustin in particular seemed determined to stay latched onto him like a barnacle, but Steve found that he didn’t really mind their clinginess.

 It was nice to be needed, even if it was only a group of pre-teen smartasses. 

“With who?” Eddie asked, leaning his hip on the table next to Steve and crossing his arms over his chest, “Cause Billy Hargrove is telling everyone he can that he beat your ass for messing with his sister,”

“I would never do something like that,” Steve shot back instantly, feeling the fading bruises on his face twinge as his jaw clenched in fury. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth, unable to stop them, “Billy’s a racist jackass who tried to put his hands on one of my fucking kids,”

Shit. 

“There is…so many confusing parts of that sentence,” Eddie stated, blinking in shock.

“Whatever,” Steve murmured, biting his cheek to stop himself from saying anything more and hunching his shoulders up around his ears. They weren’t exactly his kids, per say, but Steve was invested in keeping them safe now. The idea of doing anything to hurt any of them was painful, and the thought of Billy spreading that kind of rumor made bile rise up in his throat. 

Fuck Billy. Fuck this. Fuck his life honestly. 

“Look, Munson, I’m really not in the mood right now,” Steve sighed, hating how weary he sounded. It would have been better to fight his way out of this. Steve was crappy at fighting though, and there wasn’t much spirit left in him. Not after two weeks of perpetual stress and tension. 

“Harrington-”

“I moved down, I’m not in your way, isn’t that good enough?” Steve bit out, halfway to just grabbing his tray and throwing it in the trash. He was barely eating anyway, might as well go to the gym to shoot some hoops instead of sitting here being interrogated by drug dealing  extraordinaire, Eddie goddamn Munson.

Couldn’t he just let Steve eat in peace? Everything else was already so goddamn difficult these days. Could Steve at least manage to eat a mediocre meal without the entire world demanding something from him? 

By the grace of whatever god was potentially out there, Eddie took the hint, pushing off of his resting place and stalking back over to his group of weirdos on the other side. Steve let his eyes slip shut and dragged in a heavy breath, utterly exhausted. 

He was contemplating skipping the rest of the day and going home to sleep when a blue plastic tray identical to the one in front of him bumped his right hand

“What are you doing?” Steve wondered aloud, raising his eyebrows and fixing Eddie with a confused look as he sat down right next to Steve and began to dig into his meal. 

“Eating lunch alone sucks?” Eddie offered, shoveling Tuna Surprise into his mouth and shuddering, pushing the rest of the disgusting concoction to the far side of his tray, “Plus I’m hoping that if I get in your good graces you’ll give me your pudding cup,”

Steve stared at him for a few more moments, waiting for whatever prank was about to be pulled. But Eddie didn’t budge, continuing to eat around his main dish with strange efficiency and ignoring Steve’s gaze. 

“Go nuts,” He finally said, offering the plastic container over to Eddie who grabbed it and gave Steve a big smile

“Mazel Tov, Eddie said, hoisting the pudding aloft and tearing into it, “So, you have children?”

“I- I babysit,” Steve stammered out, completely perplexed by the strange set of circumstances that was playing out in front of him. Eddie paused with his spoon midair in front of him. 

“You babysit,” He repeated, turning his head towards Steve. The younger teen nodded and Eddie hummed. He put his pudding down and licked his spoon clean. When he was done, he hefted it aloft, bringing it down on the back of his right hand with a smack that echoed all around the cafeteria. 

“Ouch!” Eddie yelped, flapping his hand around in the air to try and get rid of the sting. Steve looked frantically to and fro as the rest of the room stared at them, whispering behind their hands. 

“Why would you-” 

“Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” Eddie explained, interrupting Steve’s furious whisper with a breathless little laugh, “Because I just heard the words ‘I babysit’ come out of King Steve’s mouth,”

“Would you cut it out with the King stuff?” Steve snapped, beginning to lose his appetite, “It’s been a while since I was King of anything, and it was a stupid fucking idea to begin with,” 

There was a beat of awkward silence as Eddie gave him another one of those soul searching looks. 

“What are you doing Thursday afternoon?” He finally asked when he found whatever he was looking to find. Steve startled, dropping his fork. 

What kind of question was that? 

Was Munson asking him on some sort of date?!

“I’m…benched from basketball ‘cause of my concussion. So nothing, I guess,” Steve said cautiously, carefully picking his words and trying to avoid the spike of hurt that shot along his chest as he said them. 

It wasn’t much, but basketball was one of the only things Steve really thought he was genuinely good at. Not having it was kind of pure torture. 

Almost as bad as not having Nancy in his life anymore. 

“In that case, come to Hellfire,” Eddie offered, glancing at the clock on the wall and grabbing both of their trays. Steve scrambled to grab his backpack, hefting it onto one shoulder and jogging to keep up with Eddie. 

“What?”

“Hellfire?” Eddie repeated, dumping their trash into the bin and stacking the trays next to it, “It’s the club I run,”

“What is it?” Steve asked, curious but unwilling to commit just yet. There was still a part of him that was kind of convinced all of this was some elaborate ruse to fuck with him. 

But before Eddie could say anything the bell chimed all around them. The rest of the student population moved as one, and the sound in the lunchroom immediately went from dull roar to cacophonous mess. Steve’s left ear started to ring again, and he winced, shying away from the sudden noise. 

“You’ll have to come and see,” Eddie said, waggling his eyebrows, completely ignorant to Steve’s pain. He turned on his heel, raising a hand in a wave behind him as he loped towards the rest of his friend group.

“Thursday after school! In the drama room, don’t be late!”

[starry-bi-sky]

I am absolutely loving your Danyal Al Ghul au. While I have a soft spot for the whole plotline of Danny becoming his canon personality almost right after breaking away from the LOA all because of Jazz, I'm just as much for your take in which he goes through the same character development as Damian.

Now I'm curious. You already tackled his relationship with Dani, will you eventually take a stab at when he, Sam, and Tucker meet Gregor? Given that it's one of my hated episodes as I couldn't stand Sam's infuriatingly hypocritical attitude to Danny's suspicions of him, I'd kill to see your spin on it.

Aw, thank you! Danyal Al Ghul aus are what got me into DPDC first, so I have a major soft spot for them. That being said, uh, its exactly that soft spot that causes me to have Many Opinions about the trope you just mentioned. Like the trope is all fine and dandy, i don't blindly hate it, my main issue with it is that most aus i've seen treat his backstory as an ex-assassin more like a pretty cosmetic accessory rather than something that actually should have had an impact on him. Especially if he remembers being in the league.

Like i cannot stress enough the fact that being in an ecofascist assassin cult (regardless of his standing in it) should've left him, in some way or another, screwed up morally and psychologically because that's just how development works. Nature vs. Nurture is like a game of tug-o-war that never ends, where they are constantly fighting against each other and one side usually has the upper hand or greater influence. Children model the behaviors of the adults around them (ex: bobo the clown doll experiment), and what impacts them in childhood can stick with them permanently.

Like how my psychology professor put it: a baby's brain is like wet cement; if you slap your hand on it, it leaves an imprint, and the cement dries that way. The same rings true for small children.

I could go on, but I frankly have so many thoughts on that alone that I would end up completely derailing from the second half of your ask, and I don't want to be more critical than I already have. Especially since you just mentioned you have a soft spot for the trope.

[Okay, hold onto your hats because this is long. Naturally lmao.]

Gregor! Man, I'll admit I last watched the show back in middle school on a dodgy illegal website (it had surprisingly good audio and visual graphics, and full episodes. But really annoying porn ads.) but I only made it to like season 1 before my hyperfixation faded and I lost interest. So I never actually saw the Gregor episode.

But... it is relatively easy to find free websites that stream Danny Phantom :), so finding the episode took me like. Thirty seconds. Plus the Tv.Tropes recap page because my damn earbuds just died and im out in public as of rn.

I'm not sure if I'll write something for the gregor episode like I did with Dani, since Dani's a bit of a special case in that she's a clone and tends to be a reoccurring presence in DPDC, and I thought the new dynamic with Danyal would be interesting.

Plus, I'm not a big amethyst ocean shipper for the pure reason of I'm just not all that interested in it; its kinda bland to me. I'll admit I've entertained the thought in this au due to the whole balcony scene i wrote, but I would've entertained the thought anyways if it was Tucker in that position instead. Big multishipper, me.

But, if I had to make it official? Danyal is not interested romantically in Sam when the Gregor episode happens, regardless of his relationship with Valerie. Who, speaking of I'm trying to think about how that would go, and I'm torn between including him almost-dating Valerie or not.

Because on one hand it helps point out Sam's hypocrisy (and i love her but i am always happy to point out her flaws and address them in au) in this episode in terms of Danny spying on them, but on the other hand I'll want to include a lot of set up in order to make Gray Ghost work in this au and wow will that take a while.

Especially with the Flirting with Disaster episode because it happens due to Technus' meddling, and Danny is, well, the son of the Batman? A trained assassin? An ex-assassin nonetheless, but still an assassin? A prodigy child in this au? He might not have needed to use most of his skills in the last few years, but like... there's just a bunch of 'what if' and 'well technically...' and 'would he? he could, but would he?' things that is getting in the way of my thought process and making my head spin.

.

Mmm. Okay. Flirting with Disaster occurs relatively the same as canon with a few exceptions; like Danyal noticing the strange coincidences, and he might take the idea into proper consideration because Sam has a point it is strange, especially out of nowhere.

However,,, he really enjoys Valerie's company, and he does really like her. He's been adjusting to civilian life for the last four years and while he's made a lot of progress, he's still. an ex-assassin child living like a wolf amongst sheep. This is normal, typical teenager stuff, and usually his friends like to encourage him doing normal teenager stuff.

So he's stubbornly holding out on the thought that this is normal, that ghost stuff isn't interfering here. He's a little hurt that his friends are discouraging this, he's not bothered by the fact that Valerie is a ghost hunter and he a ghost -- his mother is an assassin, and his father is Batman, and they still had a relationship. (Granted, he's not gonna tell them that)

If anything, being diametrically opposed to each other but still being in love is part of the family! Granted, usually both parties are aware of said opposition to each other, but he'll make a special exception this time around.

(And man now that i'm thinking about gray ghost, im now thinking about various like. scenes i could write between the two of them. maybe in a reblog.)

Anyways uhhh things relatively go the same as canon. Yeah. I think Sam still has a crush on Danny and still spies out of jealousy with Tucker.

.

Now, the Gregor episode! With that out of the way; the TVTropes recap for this episode isn't the best because it doesn't go into detail about the entire episode like it does with Flirting With Disaster and Shades of Gray.

(which i looked at earlier because I made a section of this post talking briefly about what changes I'd make to the Shades of Gray episode to help set up Gray Ghost, but ended up deleting because it was kinda irrelevant for the matter at hand.)

So I'm taking in bits of the episode clips at a time, I'll try not to get too nitpicky about how each scene goes because then it's gonna take me a longer time to write this.

But! First thing's first; since Danny is not romantically interested in Sam, he is also not jealous of Gregor. He is however, a bit eyebrow-raisey at him in their first introduction, but that's because Gregor is coming off as obnoxious.

Danny thinks he's kinda annoying, and it doesn't take a genius to see that Gregor is trying to impress Sam. But since they've only known him for five minutes he takes the good faith assumption and assumes that Gregor is genuinely trying to show interest in Sam's interests too because he likes her, so he keeps mum. The fake hungarian accent is weird, but it's overall harmless, so he doesn't point it out.

He does do the spying thing when he starts suspecting that Gregor might be working for the GIW. The episode only has this happen twice, but for the au this happens a handful of more times over the course of the week, with Danyal's suspicion steadily rising more and more each time.

Hah, when he brings up wanting to spy on Sam and Gregor because of this reason, Tucker still does his "woah! you wanna spy on Sam?" thing.

Danny immediately turns to him, completely unimpressed, and crosses his arms. "Tucker," he says, deadpan, "you and Sam spied on me and Valerie."

He uses a combination of his ghost powers and his regular stealth ability to spy on them. He's hiding in a tree when they're skipping rocks, close enough that he can use his powers to hear them talk but far enough away that he has a good view of their surroundings.

He's invisible in the cinema, but doesn't accidentally get in front of the projector. He checks the inside of the room for the GIW, and then waits outside the actual room itself, keeping an eye on the area and occasionally flying in to watch the movie out of boredom. It reminds him of being back on a recon mission with the League, but it doesn't end with him orchestrating someone's death.

Then when they're at the mall he stays in human form, blending in with the crowd. He runs into the GIW there, but realizes that they're not there because of Gregor; they're just shopping. They didn't show up at either of the last two locations, and he follows them to make sure they're not also trying to blend in. But they're literally just there for shopping.

Danny is rather pleased with this turnout; so far Gregor isn't a spy, he's just annoying. The next day at lunch he asks Sam how her date with Gregor went, and that's how she figures out he spied on them, because well, she didn't tell him that.

"Have you been spying on me?"

Danny messes with his food a little bit, and Tucker is sinking into his seat with embarrassment. He frowns, "Only last night. Those incompetent government dodos--"

His lip curls up; he gets all 'Shakespeare-y' (as Sam and Tucker put it) when he's insulting someone, "--kept appearing whenever Gregor did. I followed you and him last night to make sure he wasn't a spy."

A roundabout way of saying, "I was worried".

Sam is, as canon, furious. Danny understands why, he knows generally speaking that people don't like being spied on. But he's confused on just how angry she is, and is a little irritated by it.

"Why would you do that!" She exclaims, "That's way out of line, Danny."

"How? You spied on me when I was going on dates with Valerie." He narrows his eyes, and points his fork at her, "I'm not blind, I noticed."

"That's different, we told you why we were suspicious. And we don't have ghost powers like you do."

"I don't need ghost powers to sneak around, Sam, you've seen this firsthand. And I just told you why I followed you, I thought he was working with the guys in white--"

"So you think someone can only be interested in me if they're after you?" (this is a paraphrased quote, folks ;D)

"No! If that was the case I would have voiced my concern the moment I thought it. I don't get why you're so angry, you spied too."

Iiits.... a mess. Sam storms off with Gregor, Tucker tags along because okay, yeah, maybe Gregor isn't with the GIW, or maybe last night was a fluke. Either way he ends up tagging along. Danny overhears that conversation between the GIW and Mr. Lancer, and maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong; but something is up.

I've gotten to that scene in the locker room where Gregor tells Danny that he knows he doesn't like him, and I've paused at Danny's reply to say this: Danyal doesn't even bother trying to deny it.

"I know you do not like me."

"You're right; I don't."

"Ah, let me finish. I know you do not like me because you want to protect your friend, Sam, and I respect that."

"...That's correct."

"Good! Because I am going to ask her out."

"I had a feeling you'd say that," he stands up, claps his hand tight on Gregor's shoulder, and leans close to him with a threatening smile, "so you understand me when i say; if you break my best friend's heart, you're as good as dead, right?"

"Ah,, yes. I am so glad we got that cleared out of the way, and now I hope after we can.. how you Americans put it, hang out?"

In the episode he hugs Danny and gives him a la bise (which is that french greeting where you kiss someone on the cheek two or more times) after they end their conversation. But here, when he goes to do that to Danyal, Danny leans away, points an accusatory finger at him, and says; "Absolutely not; we are not close."

The next scene after that is like, end of day. Sam, Tucker, and Gregor walking away. Sam looks over her shoulder to glare at Danny, then gets forlorn. Tucker looks back and just looks forlorn.

(When did I start narrating each scene?? Eh, I'm writing this in brief spurts of time throughout the day. Don't fix what's not broke)

After that there's this whole scene with the two GIW agents that have been chasing Phantom all episode. They're there because they have Tucker's PDA that Skulker took, and it's got the information of their purple backed gorilla assignment on it. They've been going around seeing who Tucker associates with in hopes of catching Phantom.

Uhh ahaha and that is where this gets a little interesting imo, and also allows me to mention that im retconning Danyal's (already) redesigned ghost form. Which I've wanted to retcon even before this moment bc it was just too busy. I'll get to that in a moment.

The GIW suspect Gregor for being the Phantom because of his white hair and green eyes, which is all fine and dandy until you remember: Danyal (and by extension Phantom) has that very noticeable, rather identifiable facial scar that goes across the middle of his fucking face. The GIW could easily suspect that Phantom hides his scar with makeup if he's in disguise, but if they meet a kid with a seemingly identical facial scar and similar disposition? Hoo boy.

Solution? I've got two: Gregor is canonically a kid from Michigan who faked everything to impress Sam. Considering he knows she's gothic and knows that she's ultra-recyclo vegetarian? He probably watched her from afar or got information on her somehow. His hair is dyed, his eyes might just naturally be green, but if he notices that she's got a crush on either Danyal or Phantom? A little sfx makeup could help him recreate a similar looking scar.

My second solution that's gonna happen anyways bc its that suit redesign; Danyal does hide his face as Phantom. Ghosts are emotional creatures and its a popular headcanon that their interests, ambitions, etc, influence the way they look as a ghost, not just their death. A big reoccurring theme of my au is that Danyal did not leave the League unscathed, and that being an assassin is an important part of his identity.

So i'm discarding the hazmat suit look entirely and leaning into the 'assassin' thing. But the general (stylized) feel is like, white ribbon/cloth vambraces that he has used as a garrote at some point, a hood, a gaiter scarf-type thing. I'm keeping the cape. I did a doodle a few days back that's not the official redesign, but a redesign for Phantom. I may reblog this post with that attached because it's got the general feel down. There's very little white involved, but the inside of his cape flares out and looks like the night sky.

Now, the hood and gaiter scarf gets rid of most of the problem, but Danny's hood doesn't stay on all the time, so the GIW have likely seen the upper half of the scar. :] Gregor's own drawn-on scar doesn't have to be 1:1, but it looks close enough, right? A small scar cutting through the edge of his brow and ends right below the corner of his eye. A 'cool, badass' one opposed to Danny's 'garish' scar.

But! Back to the episode scene. Canon Danny gets written off as being 'too prepubescent' to be Phantom, and honestly it'd be hilarious if Danyal was written off for the same reason (he's calling them idiots in his head if they do). But instead -- leaning into the GIW's incompetence here -- he gets written off as being too mature or too talkative. Or something equally as absurd.

Sam breaks up with Gregor for canon reasons, but when Gregor does his "i really like you, but, come on-!" and gestures to tucker, he adds on "and that scary friend of yours too, seriously!"

Things go relatively the same as canon after that. Danny does end up apologizing for spying, however. Sam does it first. Sorrows, prayers, all that.

.

Things usually end up changed or different when I actually write it down, so I'd likely add more or adjust different scenes according to the flow of the oneshot. This is just like, a general vibe of how things would go, and where some of the more obvious changes would be if I did write this oneshot.

Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for the ask :]

[mewhenimanangel]

arrogant, hobie brown

pairing: hobie brown x reader

synopsis: you couldn’t stand hobie. he was so arrogant and always thinks his way is the best and only way

wc: 2.0k

warnings!: swearing, weed, nsfw, oral sex (f and m receiving), face sitting, unprotected sex

currently you were curled up on hobie's couch watching as miles and pav played one of his dimensions’ video games. you giggled at how rowdy they were getting while gwen tried to calm them down. hobie dangled upside down on his chair telling them they were doing it all wrong.

you became a spider person not too long ago, about ten months now when a spider fell on your arm and bit you while you were out shopping. when your uncle ben died you were devastated until you had to fight his killer. except it wasn’t his killer from your universe. an orange and purple wormhole popped in out of nowhere and a muscular man jumped through to help you defeat him.

after that he told you all about spider society and invited you in. you quickly became the best of friends with miles, gwen, and pavitr. hobie, not so much. you wouldn’t say you hated him, you still considered him a friend but he was annoying. so caught up in his punk way of life he always thought what he was doing was the right way of doing things. it even caused a bit of trouble on missions.

speaking of mission…”nah mate, i took goblin down like bang! so quick no problems” hobie told pav. you scoffed at his retelling of the story. “something funny, love?” hobie glanced at you. “yeah, that lie you just told” you chuckled. “pardon?” “there was not ‘no problems’! we almost blew the mission thanks to your arrogant ass” you rolled your eyes sitting up right.

“arrogant?!” hobie exclaimed, rising from his chair. “yes! you literally threw the bomb at goblin even though it could’ve killed all those people!” you said getting up from your chair as well. “oh my days! but i didn’t. cannot believe you are still stuck on that” he moved closer to you. “i know what i’m doing sweetheart” “yeah i’m sure you do” you scoffed staring up at his face. you two stayed like that for a minute, silently challenging each other to say something until gwen coughed making you snap out of it.

“i’m going to the bathroom” you rolled your eyes moving through hobie’s hallways. when you got back from the bathroom the rest of them were gone and hobie was on his couch tuning his guitar. he was leaned back with his long legs spread, joint in hand. the way his dim lights casted a shadow on his face and over his faded eyes made him look so fucking sexy. “i got something on my face?” he chuckled, looking over at you.

you rolled your eyes “where’d they all go?” you asked him. “went back to their dimensions, gwendy had bit of an emergency and miles needed to get home ‘fore those parents of his chew his head off” he answered, taking a hit. “okay, well bye then” you mumbled about to open your watch to tune it to your universe. “hold on, you don’t want a smoke?” hobie asked holding out the blunt to you. you thought it over for a moment before taking it from him.

“knew i could get you to stay” he smirked as you sat down next to him. “whatever” you said taking another hit, leaving lipgloss on the blunt. “why d’you hate me so much, love?” he turned his head to you leaning it back on the chair. “cause you’re annoying” “think you’re just uptight” he teased, taking the blunt from you. he loved to upset you you were so cute when you were mad, it did something to him.

“god you’re so fucking a-“ “arrogant? yeah what’s all that about, you really think i’m arrogant princess?” he was getting closer and closer to your face, eyes flicking down to your lips that were positioned in a scowl. “yes, you’re an annoying, arrogant, thinks he knows it all son of a bitch-“ you were interrupted by hobie’s lips crashing into yours.

his guitar was discarded to the ground as his hands snaked around your neck. “love it when you degrade me princess” he whispered, catching your lips again. “you’re sick” you spat, feeling him smirk against your mouth. he pulled you on his lap and pulled away from the kiss to take a hit from the blunt. he put it to the side in an ashtray and grabbed your face bringing it closer to his mouth. he shotgun the smoke into your mouth before pulling you back into the kiss. “why’ve we never done this? i would have my tongue in your pretty mouth 24/7 if i could” you hummed a little hearing his words.

you weren’t in your spider costumes so it made it so much easier for him to rip your t shirt off throwing it across the room. you were left with your bare tits and hobie was staring at you like it was his first time seeing a woman. “fuck babe you been hiding all this? you’re fucking fit” he said moving a hand out to fondle your breast and tug at your nipple, earning a moan from you.

he smirked before pulling your chest closer to his mouth, latching onto your boob while his fingers groped at its twin. his hand was so rough against you, squeezing tight while his teeth grazed against your nipple. you moaned out in ecstasy, hand shooting out to his hair. you felt his dick growing stiff underneath you and you leaned back to climb off his lap and on your knees.

you reached out to undo his layered belts “do you really need all this?” you rolled your eyes pulling down his jeans. “you keep rolling those eyes like i won’t have them rolling back in a few minutes.”

he said pulling his shirt off. you admired his soft ab line littered with scars and tattoos, his veiny v line on display. you tugged his penis out of his boxers, dick springing to life standing at seven inches. you ogled at its pretty dark skin color with a blush colored tip, veins stretching down it with a very slight curve to the right.

“pretty, innit” he chuckled. he loved the way your pretty manicured hand tightly wrapped about his length. you licked his tip, smirking at the sharp inhale you heard from him. you sunk your mouth down the head of his dick, using your hand to jerk him off. his hand snaked down to your hair, grabbing a handful and using it to push your mouth down further. it threw you off a bit but you found your footing again letting your tongue work over him. you moved your other hand to squeeze at his balls, taking his whole length into your mouth.

he jumped a bit feeling his tip hit the back of your throat, was that a whimper you just heard? he brushed your hair out of your face looking at your sultry eyes staring back at him. “you look so good like this, with my cock in your mouth. taking me so well, keep that up i won’t be able to last much l-longer”

you felt proud that you had this effect on him, the ability to make him stutter. “i bet this what you wanted the whole time. all that barking when all you really wanted was a good fuck” he pushed your head down further, the tip of your nose brushing against his pubic hair. “f-fuck keep working that pretty mouth baby, m’close” he groaned. “fuck pretty girl, m’gonna cum” he moaned out. and so he did, you took your mouth off him watching as his cum flowed down his dick.

you stuck your tongue out licking up and down his dick, taking any last drop of cum into your mouth. “bloody hell y/n, who knew you were so slutty” he teased, pulling you back in his lap. he pulled your head smushing his lips against yours, tongue slithering its way in your mouth. you reached for his hand and brought it to the top of your shorts, moaning when he pressed on your clit through your clothes.

“tell me what you want, love” he whispered against your neck, sucking to leave a bruise. “fuck hobes i want you to touch me!” you whined, grinding against his dick. “‘course you do baby, who wouldn’t” he smirked pushing you to your feet, laying back on the sofa. “what are you doing?” you furrowed your eyebrows at him. “want you to ride my face, doll” he smirked at the way your face got hot. “a-are you sure? what if i suffocate you or something” you giggled. “then i’ll die a happy man” he smiled.

you pulled off your shorts, panties coming down with it. “damn you’re perfect. don’t get me wrong that spider suit makes you look fit but damn the real thing is even better.” he grabbed your hand and pulled you to straddle his waist. “just come ahead baby, i’ll be fine” you followed his instructions and crawled over his face, hovering in nervousness. he grabbed your hips and pulled you down on his face, burying it deep in your cunt. a moan ripped out you when you felt his tongue lick against your entrance.

you resisted the urge to grind your hips against his face but he roughly gripped your hips forcing them to ride. he licked and sucked at your pussy while you subtly rode against his face. he squeezed against the curve of your ass pushing you down as far as you could go as if you could fuse to his mouth. you felt so vulnerable sitting above his gaze, perfect view of your tits and your squirming face.

the way his nose pressed against your clit while his tongue lapped at your pussy was sending you over the edge. “h-hobes m’gonna cum!” you moaned out. he rubbed circles against your thigh and you reached your orgasm, sending cum all over his mouth. you caught your breath, leaning over on the chair bar before you crawled back down to hobie’s waist. “you’re fucking delicious, love” he leaned up to catch your mouth in a kiss.

he held you in his laps, arms wrapping around you while your tongues danced around in your mouth. he flipped you over to lay you down on the couch, fully removing his boxers. “ion got rubber though” he told you “just pull out” you told him. he was still hard and he lined his dick up with your entrance, gently pushing himself inside you.

it got less gentle from there, skin slapping and your loud moans drowned the noise out from hobie’s noisy world. “fuck babe, you’re milking me dry” he groaned, reaching his hand down to play with your nipple other hand on the chair bar to hold him steady. he leaned down to kiss you again and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. the new found angle made his dick hit right on your g-spot. “fuck hobie! harder” you cried out in his ear. he roughly thrust into you making the couch squeak. he was sure he’d hear some complaints from his neighbors, but what the hell does he care.

your nails dug into his back leaving scratch marks down it. “h-hobie, i’m gonna cum” you whined. “go ahead beautiful” you came, eyes rolling back in your head as you heaved out a satisfied sigh. “not done yet babe” hobie kept going, quickly pulling out when he felt himself close.

he jerked himself for a second before shooting cum on your stomach, throwing his head back in satisfaction. he smiled back down at you “still hate me love?” you scoffed hiding the smile that dared to show on your face. “i’ll let you think that over” he laughed getting up and tugging his boxers back on.

he came back to clean the cum off your stomach and wipe the smudged lipgloss and runny mascara off your face. “you want a shower?” he asked holding your hand and helping you up. “that’s okay, i should head home anyway.” you answered putting back on your shorts. “if you say so. should do this again, like all the time” he smirked at you. “thought you don’t believe in consistency” you teased him tugging on your t shirt.

“only if it’s with you” he said as you opened the portal to your dimension, walking in.

[obsessive-valentine]

Just suddenly thought of it, but I'm imagining your Yan!Fae wants to increase the love between them and their lover (the lover will probably be colder after the kidnapping) and he started thinking of a way, What would it be like for a lover who wants to read books but the books in the library are written in a language they cannot read (I think every race or country would have their own form of writing). I think he will take advantage of that to get closer, like teaching them the words and then praising them (he intentionally kisses their cheeks).

Yandere!Childhood-Friend-Fae x Kidnapped-GN!Reader

Fae 100% have their own language and many variations so it can be difficult for a human to grasp, love this idea. He just wants closeness and to recreate the love he had from reader in his childhood but went about it the wrong way lol -let him try win your favour again ❤️

You wanted to hate him but you knew the person he used to be was still in there, you grew up with those eyes and that smile and a part of you missed him.

But his voice is different and hes dauntingly tall, he’s colder even if it’s unintentionally he’s not as relaxed and innocent as he used to be. You can’t bring yourself to think of him like you used to, he’s now your kidnapper who slightly resembles your beloved childhood friend.

Stuck in the limbo of not hating but not liking his presence, a indifference badly masking your fear and mourning for your old life. He could tell you were troubled and expected it from such a fragile human, you always were so empathetic and emotional as a kid.

Before he could begin recounting those memories he snapped himself out of it. “Not getting any damn work done” he huffed to himself before standing up from his desk making the dark wood chair scrape against the floors and closing the ink pot for his pen before leaving the room.

He found you sitting comfortably in one of the various lounge rooms of the house, this one you’d taken to most. The sofas were plush and the room wasn’t to big, the carpet and fireplace made it somewhat homely. He lingered in the door way watching you with amusement as you sprawled out on the sofa dramatically, staring at the carved details on the ceiling.

He wondered what you were thinking, you hardly talked to him anymore and tried to slip away from his company any chance you’d get. “Hello love” he started with his knuckles grazing gently on the door like a quiet knock in an attempt to not spook you. Your head tilted awkwardly to look at him with an expecting face “what are you doing in here?” He continues while inviting himself in.

“Nothing, there’s nothing to do. I can’t go outside without you, no sane person to talk to nor books to read” you ranted turning away from him once again, he let the jab about his sanity slide “Ive got a whole library” he replied plainly. You sent him a nasty glare but he stood unmoving just now with a slight grin sneaking on his face.

The smile made it blantantly obvious he was messing with you, you huffed and went back to looking at the ceiling. “Yes I know you can’t read those books but what I’m suggesting is I teach you” you didn’t bother look at him this time instead answering with silent rejection, you rather not be stuck in a room with your captor for hours.

“Suit yourself” his hand gently ran over your hair “I’ll be downstairs if you change your mind” he mentioned rather softly before taking his hand back and leaving the room.

...

That offer was sounding really nice after another boring hour passed, every evening he’d take you for a walk around his gardens but that was hours away and it felt weird and lonely that he was bothering you much less than usual. You knew deep down that he was playing yet another game with your head, making you come to him but you stopped caring about your dignity when the silence became deafening.

Slowly you tiptoed down the lush carpeted stairs and peaked over the banister during a moment of doubt, ultimately you decide to walk to the door. You didn’t knock, you became to nervous, instead you stood and peered into the crack of the door. Before you could turn around “you okay out there love?”

You pushed the door open fully, the book he occupied himself with was already closed in his lap and he sat expectingly. “Come here” he demanded calmly, when you were close enough he gently pulled you down into his lap “change your mind?”

“I’ll go mad if I can’t read” you replied bluntly. You are glad he didn’t push further, instead he sat back comfortably dragging you with him “The books I read are more academic, probably bore you to death”

He reached over to another book laying on the side table “-this book is probably easier to read, a fantasy” there were no other books in the room, you realised that he’d picked that out for you and was waiting for you to come to him. He’d predicted this and it made heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, it was frustrating that he’s always right and knows it.

He pulled it in front of you and began teaching you letter by letter and word by word. The whole time not letting you off his lap, it had been maybe 2 hours of repeating sentences after him, but it went by fast. You were so focused and quite comfortable.

So focused you you wouldn’t question it when his hands began wandering down your sides, or tracing your thighs followed by hums of approval. And it would only get worse as days went on quicks kisses on your shoulders then your nape, cheek and eventually grabbing you cheeks to kiss you on the lips.

That night after a walk and dinner he took you to pick out your own book from the library, and instead of going to bed and read his own book as you drift to sleep you both slowly read the first chapter together at candle light. He even rummaged through his draws to find a delicate metal book mark once you both decide to get to sleep.

...

At some point you’d gotten the hang of reading, but he wouldn’t stop there. No, he enjoyed having you in his lap while he taught you what each word meant or correcting your speech. Instead, one morning he calls you into his study and pulls you into his lap.

“You’re getting much better at reading, you’re going to learn to write it now” he left no room argument and handed you the expensive looking dip pen. He liked this activity much more because he had yet another excuse to touch you, for most of it his hand gently hovered over yours, correcting any mistakes. He would lean close over your shoulder so he could read what you were writing but really he’s just pressing himself gains you as close as he can.

You signed up for more than you realised.

[the-sound-of-her-wings]

hi! can i please request a kaz brekker x reader fic based off of episode 5 of season 2 (despise your heart)? when kaz panics in the market reader finds him and takes him somehwere safe and gives him his gloves, and in that moment kaz kinda of realizes how he feels about the reader. and then the poison fog the reader hallucinates about kaz and him finally making physical contact and giving her love and she thinks it’s real until someone shoves the antidote in her mouth, once she regains consciousness she rushes over to help kaz and kaz sees her pulling him out of the water and the readers just sitting there holding his face and anything else you wanna add !

if it’s a little complicated i understand, thank you have a great day :))

You were always in plain sight

❀ Word Count: 2,145 ❀ CW: Panic Attack, Discussions of Trauma, Pining, Admissions ❀ A/N: Added a few more scenes than requested. I hope you enjoy!

He’s going to panic, you think to yourself. 

In fact, his body was already panicking, even if he wasn’t. Nina is too focused on the target's heart rate to notice, but Kaz’s heart rate has been slowly increasing ever since he took off the gloves.

You watch as the woman they were meeting with gets up, and Kaz goes to follow. Unfortunately, another woman immediately runs into him, spilling tea all over the front of him, and definitely accidentally touching him.

“Give me his gloves,” You whisper to Inej.

She hands them over silently. You put on your own set of gloves, a pair you keep on you in the event something like this happens. 

Nina places her hand on top of Kaz’ and you watch the life drain from his face. And then he’s running.

“You follow the target. I’ve got him.” You say. 

It doesn’t take you long to catch up to him, but by then he’s already completely disassociated and in complete panic. You take him by the arm, leading him to an empty alley, careful only to touch the clothed parts of his arm. Even with your hands in gloves, you are worried any kind of touch to his exposed hands will send him spiraling further. 

He collapses to the ground in an unceremonious heap. 

“You were supposed to follow her,” He says.

“Inej has it covered.” You reply, sitting down on the opposite side of the alley, a decent distance from him.  

There’s a moment of silence before you add, “Someone had to follow you. You can’t be by yourself when your…” And you don’t know how to finish the sentence. Traumatized? Panicking? Having a PTSD flashback to an event you refuse to discuss with anyone? “...like this.” 

It pains you to see him so deep in his own pain, so desperate to keep other people out of it. To keep you out of it. You place his gloves close to him, but far enough away that it doesn’t look like you’re trying to touch him.

He notices your gloves, “When did you-?”

“A while ago. There just in case-” And you cut yourself off with a sigh. In case this happened. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yes? Kaz thinks, but he’s still panicking too much to say anything. In fact, the thought sends him into even more of a panic, because he’s not ever had a thought like that before. 

“I’ll be on the other side of the alley. We’ll regroup once you’ve had a chance to calm down.” You say, leaving him to decompress.

XXXXX

“Nina wants an explanation,” Inej tells you as you watch over Kaz from a distance. He’s finally come out of the worst of it and is now trying to act like nothing happened. It’s a behavior that you simply have never gotten used to, despite years by his side. 

“Then tell her the truth.” You say.

“Which is?” Inej asks. She sometimes thinks you know more than she does, but that’s not really true. You both know exactly the same thing about Kaz- which is that Pekka Rollins killed his brother and that he absolutely cannot stand another person’s touch. 

“He had a panic attack.” You reply. “She’s not going to tell the others, is she?” 

“No. But I think Jesper should know. He hates it when we leave him out of the loop.” Inej states. 

“I think I’m going to try to talk to him this time. See what else is going on.” You say, watching as Kaz sits down, clearly deep in thought. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be happy about that idea.” You say, cleaning the dirt from under your nails.

“He will open up when he’s ready.” Inej tries to reassure you.

“We both know he’d never be that vulnerable.”

“Then why ask?” She asks.

So I know how to fix it. 

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we? The world isn’t going to save itself.” You state, heading towards Kaz and the rest of the group to figure out the plan. Maybe you’ll ask him once all of this over.

XXXXX

“We should talk about what happened in the market.” You say, sitting on his desk. 

“Must we?” Kaz replies, lowering the newspaper he had been reading to meet your gaze.

“Yes.”

He set the paper aside, making his way over to you. He towers over you in a way he’s never done before, closer than he’s ever been. “What do you want to know?” 

“I want to know what happened.” 

“You saw what happened,” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I want to know why, Kaz.” You respond. 

“Why?” He retorts. Is he flirting with you or just trying to get under your skin?

“I want to fix it. Or prevent it or- I don’t know! I just. I never want to see you like that again. I don’t want to see you suffer.” 

“It won’t happen again,” He reassures you, a gloved hand coming up to caress your face. You block it with the back of your forearm.

“Won’t it? Jesper told me what happened when you got thrown in that cart together. I watched as you tried not to panic while helping Inej clean her wounds. Do you think I can’t sense your heart rate when people get too close to you? That I don’t know exactly how your body reacts? Who hurt you so badly that you can’t even be physically near another person without wanting to vomit?” You ramble, letting out all of the questions and feelings you’ve been holding inside for all of these years.

“Pekka Rollins” He replies, the answer he gave you before. It’s always been the answer, and in some ways, it really is the truth. 

“Kaz… I just want you to let me in. You carry so much inside of you that you let nobody see. But I want to see it… I want to understand.” You say, and you want to reach out and hug him but you know he can’t receive that kind of affection. 

But then he does something you aren’t excepting. Slowly, he begins to remove his gloves. He sets them on the fireplace, one by one. One of his ungloved hands traces its way up the side of your neck and rests on your cheek. You gasp at his touch. 

And then you are staring into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls. Like you’ve always seen each other- like you’ve always known. Kaz plays his cards close to his chest, but you don’t. Nina has teased you for it relentlessly.

When he kisses you, you can’t believe this is happening. It’s perfect. These are things he would only do in dreams. These are things he would only say in dreams. These are…

“This is a dream,” Kaz tells you, or rather, the Kaz of your imagination tells you as he ends the kiss.

“I know” You reply, opening your eyes.

You see Inej hunched over you and taste something disgusting in your mouth. 

“We were poisoned. Go to the door- Wylan will give you another antidote.” She says before leaving to go wake up Jesper.

You crawl your way to the door, still feeling the lingering effects of the poison. “Wylan. Antidote?” You croak.

Once you are given the butterfly, you make your way over to Kaz, the only person still under the effects of the poison. 

XXXXX

Kaz is confused. He wakes up, back on that mountain of bodies in the river, but his brother is alive.

“Jordie?” He asks, confused.

His brother stares at him, full of rage. Without a word, he begins to drown him. Just when Kaz has almost lost all of his oxygen, his brother pulls him back out from under the water.

“Who are you without your vengeance?” Jordie yells. 

“Kaz. Wake up” You say, one gloved hand cupping the side of his face, the other moving his jaw to try to force him to chew. He can’t hear you.

“What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?” Jordie asks, before plunging him under the water again. 

“Kaz” You repeat, and he hears you this time. “You’re going to be alright” 

You come into focus in a water gaze, the remnants of the poison still giving a dreamlike quality. It takes him a few moments to realize that it’s no longer a hallucination and that both of your hands are on his face. Gloved hands.

You pull your hands away from his face as soon as you see him come out of it. 

“Sorry,” You say. 

You don’t have to apologize, he thinks. 

XXXXX

“Kaz, a word?” You say, wanting to get him alone. You’ve obtained the Neshyenyer and are getting ready to head to East Ravka. 

He nods in acknowledgment while the others in the room make no effort to leave.

“Alone.” You add, so the others get the picture. 

Everyone exchanges suspicious glances with one another except Kaz, who is only looking at you. Nina winks as she passes you on her way out of the room. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

You position yourself by the door, a good five feet away from him, in order to respect his boundaries. The boundaries that you’ve consistently had to cross recently to protect him.

“What do you need?” He asks. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

Of course he isn’t, but you want him to admit that. You suspect he’ll respond with something defensive, something clever, something like “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” or “Why does it matter?” or “We have a job to do”. For it to be like the dream. 

“Are you?” He responds.

“No. And I’m getting a little tired of pretending I am.” You answer honestly. The difference between you, and all the other crows, and hell, everyone else that you interact with, is that you aren’t emotionally repressed. You don’t hide it under a sense of revenge, don’t mask it with a face of no emotion, and don’t keep your true thoughts and feelings hidden under a veil of humor. He told you it was a weakness, once. 

“You’re still wearing the gloves.” He comments.

You glance down at your gloved hands and then back at him. “So I am.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” You don’t have to do anything for me, He thinks. 

“I know.” You say, “I just don’t want to hurt you.” 

There is a long silence as you look at each other, not really sure what to say.

“I wanted you to stay,” He states, looking away from you. Almost as if he’s ashamed that he’s allowing himself to be this vulnerable. “When you asked me in the alley… I wanted you to stay.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat at the admission. Maybe the poison-induced hallucination wasn’t too farfetched after all. 

“I’ll stay.” You take a step towards him, still unsure of his boundaries. Still unsure how close or far you can get without causing him pain. 

“Will you tell me why?” You ask. I can’t help you through something when I don’t know why it causes you pain.

“I don’t know if I can,” It’s the first genuine answer you’ve gotten out of him in a long time. 

“When we were poisoned I- you were in my hallucination,” You admit, taking a few more steps closer to him.  

“What happened in your hallucination?” He asks. Throughout this, he’s made no effort to move from his seat at the table, but his heartbeat has become steadily faster, stronger. 

“I was angry at you- but you seemed to understand why. And you took your gloves off and touched me and- that’s how I knew it wasn’t real.” You reply. “What did you hallucinate?” You add, not wanting him to ruminate on your confession too long. 

“My brother was drowning me,” He states.

“I’m sorry,” You say, reflexively. 

“He asked me, ‘What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?’ and then I saw you,” You’ve never seen him sheepish before- vulnerability doesn’t exactly suit him. 

“Oh,” You breathe. “So what now?” 

“We go to East Ravka.”

“Right,” You say, trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Time to save the world. Again.” 

“We’re not saving it. We’re just getting paid.” Kaz responds.

You steel yourself, trying not to beat yourself up for thinking you were finally getting somewhere. That this would be anything more than words.

"After. We will discuss us after." He adds, quelling your doubt. "We still have a job to do."

You nod.

"I'm here if you need me." You say, turning to leave.

"I know," Kaz replies.

[mrscolinbridgerton96]

“I Do Not Love You Any Less” | a POLIN fic

Plot: It is Penelope and Colin’s wedding night.. and it is anything but newlywed bliss. However, it is on this night that they have a long overdue conversation.

~

After longing looking at the man she loves, Penelope watched as Colin grabbed a pillow for the settee and walk out of the room. She felt another piece of her heart break as he closed the door.

She could’ve just left it at that- that any attempt at a conversation could wait until morning.. but she took a deep breath and walked out to talk to him as he took off his boots and threw the pillow and blanket on the settee.

Penelope: “Colin. Please talk to me. I deserve to be heard given the way you are treating me.”

Colin: “The way I am treating you? Penelope, you lied to me and at our wedding breakfast.. you made it very clear that you will never give up Whistledown.”

Penelope: “I understand your anger towards me- in fact, it is justifiable. However, I cannot go another day or night without trying to fix this situation between us. Colin, please.”

Colin: “You want to talk? Very well. Let us talk. Perhaps you can help me understand. Maybe you can attempt to justify all of the damage that you have done with your pen.”

Penelope walks away from the bedroom doors and sits on the settee next to Colin. A part of him wants to move an inch away from her or even to stand up, but he stays where he is.. and even lets Penelope move closer to him. She grabs his hand, takes a deep breath and tells him things she had never thought she’d ever say to him. She opens up- all honesty and completely vulnerable.

Penelope: “I first start writing as Whistledown because I was powerless in my own home and I was forced to debut and enter the marriage mart a year earlier than I was meant to. I intended to give a voice to those felt powerless- the other voiceless. Instead, it became.. something else entirely. When I wrote what I did about Marina, I felt it was the only way I could prevent you from an even deeper form of heartache- I thought I could prevent that.. betrayal. Yes, I knew that Marina was with child when she arrived to the Ton.. but I was forced to remain silent on the issue and was frowned upon for trying to befriend her. I tried so hard to tell you about it. I told you that she was in love with another man.. and you did not believe me. Had Marina not interrupted us, I would have told you everything. I had every intention on telling you, but I feared that you still would have married her anyways- even if it meant being in a one sided relationship; a loveless marriage.. which is something I do not wish on anyone- not even the likes of Cressida Cowper.”

With a blank expression, he looked at her for a split second then looked back down again.

Colin: “And Eloise?”

Penelope: “Eloise came to me explaining how the Queen was convinced that she was Lady Whistledown- and threatened to ruin her, you and the rest of your family if she did not confess. I was misguided because, I- I saw no other way to protect her. So, I.. I wrote what I did and after that, I.. I intended to never write again.”

Colin: “But you did begin writing again.. with what you said about me. When I first read it, it did not affect me- but as soon as I discovered that you are Lady Whistledown.. only then did your words cut me. It made me feel as if the one person outside my family that I care deeply about and have for years thinks so little of me.”

Penelope: “I was angry. Your words last year hurt me more than anything my mother.. my sisters.. or anyone else had ever spoken about me. I wanted the man I loved for years back; I hated when you pretended to be someone you were not. You were wearing a mask, yet even now.. I realize that it may not have been entirely your choice. I love you truly and madly and deeply- I will shout it at the top of my lungs for all of Mayfair to hear if you truly doubt that. Despite all of your imperfections, I do not love you any less.. and I pray that we will soon have better days ahead of us. Goodnight, Colin.”

Penelope kissed Colin on the cheek then went into the bedroom. He could hear her crying after she had closed the door behind her. Despite his anger, it broke his heart to hear her cry; it hurt him knowing that his anger was hurting her.. and Penelope has always been someone he never in any way wanted to hurt.

~

After over thirty minutes, there was a deafening silence lingering over Colin. There was pure silence in the bedroom as well. He got up and walked to the door. He quietly opened the door and saw that Penelope had fallen asleep. He took a deep breath in and out as he approached the bed and looked at her sleeping peacefully. His heart slightly sank when he realized that she had actually cried herself to sleep.

He kneeled down and kissed her on the forehead and whispered Penelope’s words back to her.

Colin: “I do not love you any less.. Penelope Bridgerton.”

He slowly covered her arms with the blanket so that he wouldn’t wake her.. and he took one more look at his wife before closing the door once more for the night.

For ten minutes, he sat up on the settee.. thinking about Penelope. Despite his feelings about her being Lady Whistledown, he still loves her. A tear falls down his left cheek when he begins to think about his fear of losing her. He doesn’t want to lose her.. and the thought of losing her in any way terrified him.

Pure exhaustion quickly took over and he took a deep breath.. laid down.. and finally closed his eyes.

__________________________________________

author’s note: this is the kind of conversation i wish would’ve happened in part 2 of season 3, but it didn’t- so i decided to write this. this is my first Bridgerton AU fic- hope you like it!!

[vsnyarbll]

A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden pt4

atpiahb masterlist, part1, part2, part3, part4, part5

main masterlist

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader

words: 5.212

summary: right after part 3

warning: 18+, smut, explicit language, love triangle, cheating

a/n: English is not my native language. / I apologize for taking so long for the new chapter. I don't have much time to write right now. / I am not very experienced in writing smut.

With nowhere and no one to go in the castle, y/n found herself back in front of the same room.

Her husband's brother's room.

For several minutes she reached for the doorknob and pulled it back. Several times she thought of making a fist and knocking on the door, but she stopped.

She could have gone back to her room. She could have curled up next to her husband and fallen asleep without saying a word, as she had for weeks.

But she didn't want to go back. She didn't want to see Aemond's face or even feel his presence.

She would prefer to curl up on the doorstep and sleep right there.

She started to walk back and forth in front of the door, as she had done a few other times.

What could she lose?

She could lose so much.

Ever since she had married, she had always come to Prince Aegon's room. They would chat and laugh, and then she would go to her chambers.

But this time, she knew something was different. She could feel it in every cell of her body.

y/n took a deep breath and calmed herself. She was about to clench her hand into a fist again and knock on the door when it opened.

Aegon looked at her with surprised eyes. "Lady y/n?"

"Hello," she said. "Were you going out? I won't disturb you," she said and immediately stepped backward.

Aegon answered immediately. He didn't want her to leave. "No, I wasn't. I noticed someone standing outside my door for about fifteen minutes, and I thought that person came to kill me," he said, trying to break the tense atmosphere.

y/n smiled. "I don't think someone who comes to kill you would linger that long."

Aegon smiled too, and they stood awkwardly at the door.

Aegon glanced over her shoulder at the window in the hallway.

The night was dark, and the stars were shining. The moon was leaving the beauty of the stars behind. But y/n outshone them all. The only sight he wanted to watch was the woman standing with him.

y/n looked around the room as much as Aegon's body would allow her to see.

His bed was as unmade as ever, but his room looked tidy.

"Is something wrong?" he asked finally.

"No. I guess. I just wondered how you were," y/n said, speaking without thinking. Why would someone knock on someone's door in the middle of the night to find out how they are?

"I'm fine."

He brought his eyes to the girl who stubbornly avoided his gaze. "Are you all right?"

"I guess I am."

"That's not a good enough answer, y/n."

She sighed. "Aemond is hiding something. And he is not telling me what it is. He makes me so uneasy all the time."

"I see," he said shortly. He hated talking about Aemond with her. y/n's naivety aside, her brother's constant uncertainty drove him crazy.

Whenever the subject of Aemond came up when they were together, he tried to shut it down as quickly as possible. He knew y/n had no one to talk to and wanted to talk about Aemond, but he had always chosen to be selfish about it.

"Do you want to come in? Let's not stand here." Please come in, he thought.

y/n nodded and followed Aegon into the room.

She closed the door and locked it. Aegon was making his bed when the lock clicked. He looked at her with curious eyes.

"It would not be right for one of your maids to see me here. I cannot bear another rumor."

Aegon nodded and went back to smoothing the covers of his bed.

y/n took off her robe and threw it on the armchair.

She walked to the window, picking up a random book from the table she passed.

Aegon felt his heart almost stop as he saw the leather-bound notebook in her hand. He threw the pillow haphazardly on the bed and ran towards her.

y/n didn't let him have the book and tightened her fingers around it.

"What is the book about, Aegon? What kind of books does our prince read?"

Aegon smiled nervously. "That's the point. What you are holding in your hands is not a book."

"Oh, I see. You give me more reason not to give it to you."

It would not have been pleasant for her to read the notebook in which he had written down every thought about her and how he desired her.

Aegon had even tried to write poetry a few times, but as he expected, it had failed.

y/n was like that. She made him want to write poetry for her.

He wanted to put everything about her into lines of poems.

"y/n, please," he said.

y/n grinned. She wasn't going to look in the notebook anyway. But she liked teasing Aegon.

"Do you draw, too?"

'Do you draw too?' Aemond was drawing? he thought.

Aegon shook his head and reached for the notebook, wrapping his fingers around hers.

"Your diary then? Your brothel diary?"

Aegon squeezed her fingers tighter. "No, and no. Will you give it to me now?"

y/n gave in and let Aegon take the notebook.

She could have teased him for hours, but the feel of his hands on hers sent butterflies in her stomach that she hadn't felt in months.

She let herself sink into one of the armchairs. "What is the brothel like? As you know, I have no one to ask, but I've always wondered."

Aegon's lips formed a straight line. "It's not that fancy. Think of it as a place full of people pretending to be in love with you because you're a prince and you have money," he said and sat down next to her, putting the notebook away from her. He put his feet up on the table in front of the armchair.

y/n found Aegon's sadness funny. She'd never seen anyone upset about going to a brothel.

"Oh, my poor prince. Does it upset you when they pretend to be in love with you?"

'My prince.' Aegon's heart raced. He felt like a fool. How could a word she had used so casually have made such an impression on him?

"Don't joke, y/n. It even affects my performance," he said and laughed under his breath.

She laughed too. "You poor thing. I'm sure one of them must have fallen in love with your silver locks. Or your smile, your sense of humor, and violet eyes that scream that you come from far away."

y/n gasped as she realized what she had said, and Aegon swallowed hard, blushing slightly at how quickly she had listed his likable qualities.

"Maybe I should go back to my chambers."

Aegon raised his eyes to her lips. "Why would you go?"

y/n pulled her head back nervously. "Why? I have to stay away from my husband's brother. They're right."

Aegon looked away. For her, he would always be her husband's brother.

He was not Prince Aegon to her, not Crown Prince Aegon, not even her friend Aegon.

He was always her husband's brother.

"The same goes for your husband, doesn't it?"

y/n put her hand on Aegon's shoulder. "I suppose so."

She took his chin in her other hand and turned his face to hers. They both looked at each other's lips.

"y/n, if we do anything now, I will regret it for the rest of my life. And so will you." He wouldn't regret it, but her regret would ruin him.

"No, I won't regret it."

Aegon released his chin from her grasp and gently removed his hand from her shoulder.

"Tell me something," she said.

"I like spending time with you."

y/n kept looking at his lips. "I like spending time with you, too."

Aegon spoke, not caring how inappropriate his words might be. "I think your parents married you off to the wrong brother. My father was hungry for your family's support, and I'm sure he would have agreed to marry you off to his heir. And your parents would have been happier with their arrangement."

y/n averted her eyes. "If I had married you, would things have been the way they are now? Perhaps you are drawn to me because I am forbidden. If we were married, would you stop going to brothels? Would you carry me around as your wife and not even look at me in our chambers?"

Aegon's eyes widened in astonishment. "You're not aware of anything."

y/n became angry. "I know nothing. And no one is willing to tell me anything. If the only problem is that I'm not aware of things, why don't you enlighten me?" she asked in an angry, mocking tone.

"If I could, I would have told you by now."

"Aegon! I hate you and your brother. You're both so stupid!"

Aegon laughed. "It may be the only thing we have in common."

y/n didn't laugh, and she kept her angry stare.

Aegon made a foolish suggestion to deflect and relieve the tension. "How about I take you to the brothel one day?"

"I don't know which Westeros you live in, but in the Westeros, I live in, a lady going to a brothel is frowned upon."

Aegon smiled. He threw his head back and leaned back against the seat. "I thought 'fuck people' was our way of life."

y/n squinted at him. "To dishonor Aemond? Yes. To go to a brothel? No. I can't even leave the castle."

Aegon straightened up in his seat and lowered his legs from the table. His face lit up at the idea coming into his mind. "How about I get you out of the castle?"

y/n looked at him curiously. "Where would we go?"

"We'll go to the city! Trust me, I can give you the happiest day of your life!"

The girl looked around, unsure. "But what if someone sees us?"

"We'll disguise ourselves! We'll hide under cloaks. I'm sure nothing will happen."

"I don't think a cloak will be enough to hide you. I'm sure the small folk and your buddies from Flea Bottom will recognize you anyway."

Aegon laughed. "Dear y/n, I don't hide behind clothes when I'm going into the city, so no one can think I'm the one hiding."

y/n covered her face with her hands. "I wish I had been born a Targaryen prince. No matter how immoral you behave, no one seems to mind."

Aegon stood up. "Believe me, everyone minds. I've just learned to close my ears to them."

He held out his hand to her. "Are you coming?"

"Right now? Today?"

"It couldn't be a better day, y/n. You're away from your clingy husband, and if he hasn't come looking for you by now, he won't come looking for you now."

"Fine," she said, unsure. "But if anyone sees us, I'll tell them you kidnapped me and forced me out of the castle."

Aegon laughed. "Fair enough."

y/n took Aegon's hand and stood up. Aegon pulled her gently towards him.

She put her other hand on his chest. "Aegon..."

"y/n."

She kept her head down and hid her gaze, but Aegon held her chin with his index and thumb and lifted her head.

y/n looked up at him with a warm look in her eyes.

Aegon began stroking her chin with his thumb.

"You... You are everything."

She took a deep breath. "Aegon..." she said prayerfully. y/n wanted to say his name over and over. She wanted his name to be the only word that left her lips. May the gods forgive her that she could readily put him in their place.

They stood so close together. The only barrier between them was their clasped hands. Aegon held her hand so tightly that he would never let go again.

y/n lowered her eyes to his lips.

Aegon brought his hand from her chin to the side of her head and brought her face closer to his.

"If I kiss you, will you regret it?"

y/n felt her ears grow hot, her face aflame. "Would you regret it?"

"Never," Aegon said instantly.

y/n felt her eyelashes heavy with desire. But the excitement Aegon felt was beyond his desires.

The fact that he was so close to y/n and knowing she desired him was above everything else.

"What are you waiting for?" asked y/n, wanting to feel his lips on hers.

"Your consent."

y/n thought. She had always known this day would come.

Everyone knew. Aegon knew. Aemond knew. That's why he had always been so impulsive with Aegon. That's why he hated her spending time with him.

"Please... Please do something," she said. She was desperate for the slightest interaction.

Aegon looked at her face one last time before he leaned down to her lips.

Her soft lips felt so good against his own. They were smoother and fuller than his.

y/n parted her lips and let Aegon take control. Aegon started kissing her like a starving man.

He dipped his hand into her hair. y/n felt her knees weaken as his fingers began to stroke her head.

y/n squeezed her hand on Aegon's torso and took the fabric of his shirt in her fist.

Slowly Aegon broke their kiss and placed one last kiss on her lips before pulling his head back.

Their hands were still locked together. Aegon had wrapped his other hand around her arm.

They smiled at each other.

"I think we'll have to put off going into the city for another time."

Aegon chuckled. "If that is what you wish, my lady."

There was a brief moment of awkwardness between them, and they stood in silence, looking at each other.

y/n rose on her tiptoes and kissed Aegon again. This time both of her hands clasped behind his neck.

Aegon slowly reached behind her nightgown and began to unbutton it.

When he had undone the last button, the one in the center of her back, he pulled his head back again.

"Are you sure?"

y/n nodded and pressed her lips to his again.

Aegon took her by the arms and pulled her to the front of the bed without breaking their kiss.

He started pulling down her nightgown and withdrew.

y/n shivered when he pulled the nightgown down enough to expose her collarbones.

He pulled down even more to expose the tops of her breasts and finally lowered the nightgown to her stomach.

He began to watch her body intently.

y/n felt herself blushing under Aegon's heavy gaze.

"You are so beautiful."

y/n smiled shyly.

He then helped her to remove her nightgown. y/n grabbed his outstretched arm and got rid of it.

She wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off.

His torso wasn't as muscular as Aemond's. He didn't train as much as he did. And because of the alcohol he drank, his stomach was flat, and he even had a little belly.

His shoulders were as broad as Aemond's. His arms were shadowed, with just enough muscle to make him look strong.

She ran her hands down his arms.

Aegon watched y/n's reactions without blinking, watched her watch his body, watched her run her hands over his body.

When she reached for the button on his pants, Aegon pushed her back slightly, making her lie on the bed.

He climbed on top of her and propped himself up on his elbows.

When they put their lips together again, he balanced himself on one arm and moved his other hand around her body.

Aegon didn't want to leave a single place untouched, unkissed. He ran his hand over y/n's breasts and then placed his hand on the curve of her waist.

He lowered his lips to her neck and began to leave wet kisses.

y/n was on the verge of losing her mind. She could feel the intensity of emotion and desire in his kisses.

He moved his hand from her waist to her breast and squeezed it, causing y/n to moan.

Then he moved his lips from her neck to her collarbones. Aegon wanted to leave a trace of himself on her neck and shoulders, everywhere he could reach.

He sucked her skin until it was red. But he also left her little kisses that screamed "I love you."

Without lingering any longer, he came to her breasts.

y/n's breathing was getting faster and faster. She let out little whimpers that drove Aegon crazy.

When Aegon's lips met her right nipple, she arched her back. Aegon smiled at her reaction.

He started rolling her nipple with one hand. And he brought his lips further down her body.

y/n felt every part of her burn where Aegon's hand had touched her. She wanted more. She craved more.

Aegon slowly moved down as he left open-mouthed kisses on her stomach.

As he settled between her thighs, y/n did something she would never have done so straightforwardly if she hadn't felt that much pleasure: she spread her legs further apart for the man between her thighs.

He ran his fingers over her slit several times. Aegon parted her folds with his fingers and dropped a kiss on her clit.

"Aegon." she moaned his name.

Aegon felt himself getting harder in his pants as if that were possible.

He wrapped his lips around her clit and began to suck slowly.

"Aegon," she moaned again, her voice breathless.

y/n realized that if he kept doing this, she would reach her climax soon. She grabbed his head and lifted it. She wanted to cum with him.

y/n felt herself blushing even more now that their eyes met. Aegon looked at the pink and soon-to-be purple marks left behind as he looked up at her, and he couldn't hide his smile.

"Aegon, please don't linger."

"I'm not lingering, y/n. I'm trying to make you feel good."

y/n smiled. "I know. But all I want is to feel you inside me."

If Aegon hadn't stopped himself, he would have almost moaned.

He got up from the bed and untied his pants. He quickly took it off. Then he didn't hesitate to pull down his underwear.

y/n gasped at the sight. He was thick and long. The head of his cock was red and seemed to be throbbing.

She sat on the bed and moved closer to Aegon.

She ran her fingers up and down his cock.

She squeezed her thighs, wanting to wrap her lips around his cock and run her tongue over the vein at the base.

y/n ran her thumb over the tip of his cock, and Aegon grabbed one of the bedposts and closed his eyes tightly.

"If you keep this up, I'm going to cum."

She giggled. "Would that be so bad?"

Aegon opened his eyes and looked at the girl sitting on his bed. "If I have other plans for it, yes."

y/n sat up on her knees and placed her hands on his shoulders. "What plans?"

"I can cum inside you, for example."

She pretended to think. "Or in my mouth."

Aegon took another deep breath. "Another time, I promise."

She grinned. "Another time... So you want to keep it going?"

Aegon pressed a kiss to her lips. "As long as you want to."

y/n pressed their lips together and pulled him to her.

They found themselves in the same position on the bed again.

Aegon moved his index finger to her entrance. He stroked it a few times and carefully began to push his finger in.

y/n closed her eyes at the slight pressure of his finger at her entrance and waited for him to put his finger completely.

She had never felt anything like Aegon's finger, even though she had fingered and imagined herself in this situation whenever she could.

It was something else between them, not obligation, not duty. It was pure pleasure.

Aegon moved his finger a few more times, then withdrew it and quickly sucked on it.

"I can't believe you didn't let me."

"Another time, I promise."

Aegon chuckled. "Remember your promise."

She nodded and watched Aegon's movements. He pumped his cock several times and spread his precum over his cock.

y/n bit her lip at the sight of him.

Aegon raised his head and looked at her. "You're ready. Are you sure you want to do it?"

She nodded. "Yes, I do. I want you, Aegon."

Aegon stroked the inside of her thigh with his left hand.

She moaned as the tip of his cock entered her. Aegon waited a moment for her to adjust, but y/n was impatient.

She didn't want it to be slow or gentle. There was no point in being slow if the desire that burned them both was coming true.

y/n lifted her head from the pillow. "Aegon, please..."

Just saying his name was enough to make him do anything she wanted.

He carefully pushed the rest of his cock.

Then he started to move back and forth. And he leaned over y/n's face.

They were both moaning into each other's mouths, their breaths mingled together.

Aegon wrapped one of her legs around his waist for a better angle and squeezed it.

y/n could no longer keep her eyes open and closed them tightly.

She wanted to look into Aegon's eyes. But she couldn't find the strength to keep them open.

Aegon watched her face intently to not to miss any of her gestures.

He watched as she frowned with pleasure and kept her mouth slightly open.

Sometimes she ran her hands along his arms. Sometimes she held the sheet tightly and wrapped her legs tighter around him.

Then Aegon felt embarrassed by the pressure in his stomach.He couldn't remember ever reaching his climax so fast. Even in his first time, it took longer.

"y/n. I'm close."

y/n opened her eyes slightly and looked up at him. "I'm close too," she said, barely speaking.

Aegon quickened his moves and brought his hand from her leg to between their bodies, and began to draw circles on her clit. "Come with me."

The three-word command was enough to make y/n cum instantly.

Aegon came right after her. He slowly pulled out of her, thinking she might be sensitive.

He threw himself onto the bed next to her. Their breasts rose and fell rapidly.

y/n turned towards Aegon and placed a hand on his chest.

Her hand was right over his heart, and she could feel how fast his heart was beating.

At that point, even Aegon didn't know whether his heart was beating so fast because he had just come or because he was so excited to have y/n with him.

He put his free arm around her and turned her towards him. Then he hugged her tightly.

Now she was lying on his chest. He stroked her back with his hands as he wrapped his arms around her.

"My y/n."

y/n closed her eyes. She let herself relax to the sound of his heartbeat.

"What do we do now?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

"We're going to sleep and not worry about tomorrow."

y/n nodded and fell asleep in his arms.

Aegon couldn't fall asleep for a long time. He buried his nose in her hair and took deep breaths, trying to savor the moment. Once he was sure she was asleep, he murmured I love you many times.

Tomorrow's problem was going to be solved tomorrow.

He surrendered himself to sleep like the woman he loved lying in his arms.

xxx

A quick knock on the door woke them both with a start.

"Come back later," Aegon said, thinking it was a maid.

As y/n settled back into his arms, another knock was on the door.

"Aegon, open the fucking door!"

Aegon jumped at the familiar voice. They both looked at each other in horror.

"Wait a minute!"

Aegon quickly changed into yesterday's clothes and found y/n's nightgown on the floor. He threw it at her. She slipped it on and sat on the bed, looking at him with fearful eyes.

"What are we going to do?"

Aemond knocked on the door again as Aegon paced quickly around the room. "Come on!"

Aegon leaned towards y/n and whispered. "I'll send him away, okay? Just keep quiet."

She nodded, but her worries were not gone. Aegon placed a kiss on her lips and got up from the bed.

He turned around to see if she was visible through the door. y/n hid behind the curtains around the bed.

Aegon opened the door just enough to see his brother's face.

"What is it?"

Aemond snorted. "y/n left last night and never came back."

Aegon felt his heart race with fear. "What does this have to do with me?"

Aemond looked over Aegon's head into the room, but Aegon closed the door even further. "You are close, after all. I thought she might have come to you."

Aegon put his hand on the doorjamb, blocking him further from entering the room, but he knew he couldn't stop Aemond if he wanted to. "She's not here."

Aemond laughed, but he was angry. "I'd better check myself."

Aegon squeezed the doorjamb tighter. "Are you a fool, Aemond? Why would I lie?"

Aemond shoved Aegon in the chest. He took a few steps back, and Aemond rushed into the room.

After a brief look around, he made his way to the bed. Then one of y/n's maids burst into the room. "My prince?" she said to Aemond.

Aemond turned toward her. "What is it?"

"Prince Maelor has become restless. He is with the queen. Her grace wants you with them."

Aemond took a deep breath and looked at the bed one last time.

"How many times has my mother told you not to bring your whores to the castle, Aegon?"

Aegon's lips formed a thin line. "How many times have I listened to her?"

Aemond looked at him sternly and left the room.

The servant waited for the prince to leave the room and then went to Aegon. "A few people saw Lady y/n coming here. I came to warn her."

Aegon nodded. "Thank you."

y/n got out of bed. "Ava."

The maid bowed to her. "My lady. You can tell him you slept with me last night in the servants' quarters."

y/n smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

The maid smiled too. "I will wait for you in your chambers, my lady." she bowed and left.

y/n turned towards Aegon. "I'd better go and get dressed."

Aegon nodded and took her arm as she walked past him. "We can pretend it didn't happen if you like, y/n."

y/n took a deep breath. "I don't know, Aegon. I'll think about it," she said and left the room.

xxx

The queen's maids were looking for her. They had told her that the queen wanted to see her.

She got dressed in her chambers and went to the queen's chambers.

She sighed inside, but she was happy to see her son.

On the way to the queen's chambers, her mind drifted to Aegon, but she pushed him out of her mind.

When she came to the queen's chambers, the guard at her door bowed at her. "The queen is waiting for you, my lady," he said. And he opened the door for her to pass through.

When y/n walked through the door, Aemond caught her eye directly. He was sitting in the armchair ahead fireplace, watching the fire.

y/n realized that he was thinking about something.

Whenever Aemond was thoughtful, he would play with his fingers and nibble the inside of his cheek.

Without saying a word to anyone, she took her son from her mother-in-law, who was coming towards her. "Good morrow, y/n. How are you?"

y/n smiled as she rocked her son back and forth in her arms. "Good morrow, your grace. I'm doing fine. How are you?"

The queen smiled warmly at her and went to Aemond.

"Hello, Maelor," y/n whispered to her son.

Aemond gripped the arm of the chair and crossed his legs.

As always, hearing his wife's voice gave him butterflies.

The queen sat opposite him.

Aemond watched his wife and son in fascination.

He had already forgotten about their fight and that y/n had not returned to him at night. He wanted it to be night again, to fall asleep feeling y/n's warmth.

"What do you think of what happened at the small council? I don't know what to answer anymore," the queen said to her son.

Aemond's gaze was on his wife.

y/n was leaning over Maelor, smiling and whispering sweet things. Their son finally seemed to be asleep and at peace.

"I say let them have what they want. We've always condoned everything they've done for our alliance. It's just a marriage that has nothing to do with us. Is it?" The queen asked.

Aemond turned to his mother. "Of course," he said.

The queen was not satisfied with his answer. "Are you listening, Aemond?"

Aemond sighed and began to fiddle with the arm of the chair. "Isn't it going to be discussed in council tomorrow anyway? Let's not talk about affairs of state all the time."

His mother clasped her hands together. "Yes, it is going to be discussed tomorrow. But I want to be prepared. And I want to know what your opinion is."

Aemond laughed lightly. "It's all about Lord Lannister's arrogance.I don't care who he marries. Let him have his wedding at the Red Keep. You've already done everything he's ever wanted. What is different now?"

The queen sighed. "I'm not a fan of Lord Lannister either. But it's important to keep him on our side. He is Jason Lannister, lord of Casterly Rock."

Aemond nodded briefly and stood up. "y/n?"

y/n hugged her son tightly and looked up at her husband. "Yes, Aemond?"

Aemond walked over and took her arm gently. "Do you want to go back to our room?"

y/n nodded, tired and feeling uneasy.

"We're going to our chambers, mother. Let me know if there's anything else."

The queen smiled and nodded.

y/n bowed to the queen, but the queen stopped her as if she had remembered something. "Helaena said she would have tea with you today. Tea will be ready in her room in a few hours."

That they were going to have tea together was out of y/n's mind. "Yes, your grace. I will go to her chambers."

Together they left the room and walked silently down the long corridor. The queen's chambers were almost at the other end of the castle.

Aemond stayed behind y/n because of the thoughts in his head. y/n walked quickly without waiting for him.

When Aemond realized he was behind her, he quickly caught up with her. "y/n, I'm sorry for everything I've done."

"Let's talk about this later, okay?" said y/n calmly.

y/n was happy he was finally talking about this, but she felt tired.

And she didn't want to have this conversation with him right now in that crowd when the servants and the ladies who lived in the castle could hear them.

Aemond nodded and gently took y/n's arm as she led their sons to their chambers.

next chapter

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[satubby]

Hei! Thsi is my first time requesting, i hope this is how it goess..?? Can you please do Platonic Yandere Denji + Platonic Yan Aki w/ touchy reader? (hugs,clinging onto arm) etc. ^_^

[I am glad to hear! Of course, although I will make it a bit short because I still need to adapt well to Denji and Aki's personalities, I need to assimilate them to understand them]

Since you were a child you have been kind and stubborn, having to deal alone with problems beyond your age, it was when you met this child: He was dirty and ragged, he cried when his knee was scraped, from there he was your first of many helps you gave him. Thus began your friendship, you gave him food and love.

❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢When they were children and he met you for the first time, Denji thought you were an angel fallen from heaven. He had never known kindness and affection from another person before. Since then he vowed to protect you from harm, so that you would never lose that warm smile. The one that made him feel so special, even though he sometimes got jealous when you gave the same smile to animals and acquaintances. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢You used to feed him a lot, of that he wasn't wrong, you really were kind. Then when the pochita incident happened, he got depressed at first, he didn't know what his purpose was now until he saw you in the middle of the chaos…. You embraced him. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Now that you are both demon hunters, Denji always makes sure to fight by your side on every mission. He couldn't bear to see you hurt. If he ever noticed you were in danger, he would instantly transform into Chainsaw Man to defend you, no matter what price he has to pay (We already saw how crazy he is to the point of enduring the pain of severed limbs or wounds). ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He loves the moments when you can rest together. He loves the way you stroke his hair when he is resting on your legs, he feels like a baby in your arms. He is comforted just by your presence. Sometimes he even falls asleep imagining the life they could have if the world wasn't plagued by demons, how Onee-san/Imouto would call you and you would congratulate him on graduating from school…. even though he has never gone. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He always watches you from afar to make sure you're okay. If he notices you're sad or stressed, he'll go out of his way to make you laugh again. He hates to see you suffer. His biggest motivation is to see you happy and protected, even as a small favor for teaching him the basics. Things like reading or writing his name, giving you love….

❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢On nights when he has nightmares of the past (or pochita's death), he seeks refuge in your arms. He knows that with you he is safe and that his inner demons cannot reach him. You are his only home in this world where he is not seen as trash or something usable. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Denji would be very sad and worried if he noticed that you put your safety before his. Like all those times as a kid when you helped him hunt demons because he wanted to return the favor by making you money. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He would flatly refuse to let you participate in any mission that involves risk. He'd rather deal with demons by himself than see you in danger, if it's still mandatory for you to go, then he'll do everything for you. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢If you try to protect him by risking your life, he may panic and get out of control. Only the sound of your voice would calm him down. He would spend sleepless nights thinking of ways to make you understand how vital you are to him. He can't bear the thought of losing the most important person. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢He may call out to you in agitation, teary-eyed, begging you not to act so recklessly anymore. Seeing you hurt is his worst nightmare. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢If the situation were extreme and you were at high risk, he would probably stand between you and danger even if it meant harming himself. He would a thousand times rather suffer himself than see you suffer.

Denji would give anything to ensure your well-being and protection. It is very difficult for him to see you deliberately put in danger for his sake. You are what he loves most.

When Aki passes away in front of his eyes, Denji's heart shatters. It is too much for him to bear so much pain.

But then he remembers that you still have light by his side. He runs to find you, knowing that only you can calm the hurricane inside him.

He finds you crying too for the loss of the friend, so he hugs you tightly as he lets out all his pain in a sea of tears. Gradually, as he feels your comforting caresses on his back, the sobs subside.

"I am no longer alone…you are here with me" Your presence is like a balm to his broken soul. You kiss his forehead repeatedly, Denji still inhaling that scent that means 'home' to him.

"Thank you…for never leaving me. You are my strength, Onee-chan." Denji knows that as long as he has you by his side, he can get through any adversity. You are his grounding cable.

When Power sacrifices herself, Denji returns to seek refuge in your arms. Despite the disgust he feels with himself, you embrace him with a motherly warmth.

"You are not weak…you are only human. And we humans feel, we suffer, and we rise again." Your words heal him inside as if they were balm. With you he feels understood.

Denji would give anything to protect that smile that saves him when he needs it most. You are his safe harbor, his reason to go on.

Since Aki has met you, you have shown nothing but friendship and kindness, even if he is initially reluctant to open up to you… Given his experiences in this bloody world where lives are lost.

❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki always admires you as someone strong and trustworthy. Although he sees Himeno more as a superior, he sees you as a sister due to the proximity of your ages, he admires your leadership skills and your wisdom in difficult situations. After a hard day hunting demons, Aki finds comfort in your kitchen. You make sure he eats well, take care of him and Himeno. Food becomes a way to bond as a makeshift family. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢When Aki has nightmares about losing his family, you let him spend the night with you so he doesn't have to be alone. Waking up to your smiling face soothes him. Over time, the nightmares become less frequent. Aki picks up some of your best habits, like taking breaks and not overworking himself, as you warn him. He begins to take better care of himself thanks to your influence. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢You help Aki train and improve his sword skills. Fights with you push him to hone his skills, while providing him with a fun outlet for stress. Aki comes to see you as one of his most formidable opponents. On days off, you and Aki enjoy relaxing activities like going to the arcade or having picnics in the park. Simple pleasures help him feel like a normal young man again from time to time. Knowing that he can always count on your support gives Aki the courage to follow his path, even in his darkest hours, to the end. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki always feels more comforted and secure wrapped in your warm hugs after a stressful mission. He likes it when you wrap your arms around him protectively, especially if he was injured.

"I'm fine, don't worry," he would say even though deep down he knows it's a lie and can't see your silly face, yet he ignores that pain in favor of being comforted by your presence and care. He affectionately calls you "Imouto/Onee-san" or simply your name in a sigh of gratitude. These moments of tenderness make him feel that there is still goodness left in the world. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki tries to repay you for the great favor you do by feeding him and taking good care of him all this time. He gained culinary skills by watching you in the kitchen and now loves to cook for you, just to see your smile when you taste his dishes. "I hope you like it," he would say eager for your opinion. When he manages to surprise you with some special treat, he feels rewarded for hours of practice. He wants the chance to take care of you too, even if it's in the kitchen. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki sometimes gets a little jealous when you spend too much time with other people, as if they might steal you away from him. He knows it's ridiculous as he trusts you completely. But he can't help those possessive feelings for the one he considers his family. Try not to be obvious with his jealousy and trust that you will always come back to him, as you have done unconditionally so far. ❀.°• ─ ─ ─ ─➢Aki's greatest fear is losing you too. If you are in danger, desperation overpowers him and he will do anything to save you even if he has to face you. "Don't risk yourself like this, please. I couldn't bear to see another loved one go," he would plead with tears in his eyes. You are too important for you to give your life for his. He will fight by your side but never at your expense.

The noise of the battle around us faded. All Aki could see was your pale face in his arms, your eyes narrowing as you struggled to breathe.

"No… please don't." He whispered through his tears. "Don't leave me too."

You took his hand in yours weakly, trying to smile. "I'm sorry… I made… a promise… to protect… all of you…"

"Don't say that!" shouted Aki, pressing your body against him. "You'll be fine, you'll see! Just… hold on, please"

You shook softly. "Take care… of the others… Ani/Otouto… Keep… fighting"

"Don't you dare die!" He sobbed, leaning down so that their foreheads touched, "You're the only good thing I have left…. I can't lose you to."

Your eyes slowly closed as you caressed his cheek. "I'll always… be… with you… Ani/Otouto"

With your last breath, Aki roared in pain to the sky. You lay motionless in his arms, a faint smile on your lips. From that moment on, a part of Aki died with you.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Lucky Rabbit Blow The Dice

Chapter One

High Roller!Orpheus x Reader

Rated Explicit

On Ao3

Chapter Two

High Roller, a person who gambles or spends large amounts of money, they usually are cocky and rarely cash in when the reward is grand. Shiny and seemingly obtainable.

Enough alcohol and praise going straight to the head lowers those inhibitions, and ambitions rise. Then the rat trap taps on their necks.

Lucky Guy and you are very good dealers. Picking targets and giving enough wins to the guests before draining them dryer than their glasses.

All of this was an easy game until he showed up.

High Roller, he calls himself– You thought him arrogant for his cocky behavior. You underestimated him…

When he practicality had the casino by the balls (somehow winning every fucking game from slots to roulettes), he said he will bet everything for one game.

A game, you to this day, do not know how he won!

Yet…The ultimate game, a game you could not imagine anyone but the one named High Roller could win.

Lucky Guy and you could only stand in shock as he called out his challenge to the one.

Here in the casino, in Her domain— Her temple— Luck roams from one player to the dealer to a newcomer whenever she pleases. None can claim to her, he is free and promiscuous, though can sometimes select those with her blessings, of sorts.

Lucky Guy and you are not here just as dealers but as those who keep risk and rewards flowing in balance.

This man somehow disrupted the natural order of luck by somehow winning every fucking game!

“For my prize:” Making his demands clear as he stood on top stage where the showgirls stayed behind him confused and looking at one another, “I want them!” Pointing at you and suddenly the spotlight is on you.

There are few you can claim to be a favorite, you are one of them. Lady Luck can have her moments when She fancies a mortal and for a night She indulges.

Lucky Guy was someone she snatched from a game, his soul bound to servitude.

You are a product of lust and She keeps you here close knowing how easily someone could use you. Just like Her, you are essentially a good luck charm. 

You took the challenge in her place, She is above mortal bullshit and you still believed you could turn the luck of the night around.

Then you lost. You swear the match was between yourself and the devil. The grin on his face furthers this belief.

The worst part: Your mother did not seem upset, no, She seemed pleased to have Her child taken by a master of cards like High Roller.

Though Lucky Guy swears she hides her pain.

Now you are at a different casino. Darker, enslaving the guests, it is like a prison. Risk Taker, a woman who does all this for her God, heads all of this.

At your mother's casino, at least the guests can go home with their souls intact (tainted but whole)… Here it is like watching each one lose not only their inhibitions but their sanity.

The winner takes all, the loser loses all life is thrilling; there is no balance. Just constant decadence and debauchery.

Watching every night, you see the hollowing out of these people. You… You wish you could do something or at least bring balance here. Risk, reward and loss, and caution seem imbalanced. But cannot, this is not Her temple but some other creature's temple. No longer are you allowed to be a dealer or even play; you are the High Roller's bunny, a lucky rabbit he calls you.

Bunny ears, the latex corset teddy style with the long tail tuxedo jacket (to keep you warm), a bunny tail pinned above your ass (he loves toying with it when you sit on his lap), the fishnet stockings, and heels (you hate these because your feet hurt after awhile which makes you sit, and guess what the only place you can sit on is the High Roller's lap).

You hate it, he doesn't care that you hate it. Or maybe he likes how he can flex his power over you.

By his side to blow the dice before he rolls. To kiss his deck before he shuffles. To sit on his lap as the roulette wheel spins. 

The High Roller's favorite game is anything that involves cards, a master of dealing, and beloved by Miss Fortune (the guests call Lady Luck that here).

All night you have been made, as usual, to be his eye candy on his arm (or on his lap) as he plays the games. Busy nights, though, mean he sometimes will have you fetching him drinks— For the guests. The drunker the guests get, the braver they get. The braver guests are, the more money they spend, and the more money spent the bigger bets and losses.

A cycle that keeps the casino going: Greed.

Currently, the night is dying down, and people cashing in their chips or heading out broke.

High Roller is dealing cards in the private room with you being a ‘player’. He only plays a simple game with you with stakes being articles of clothing. He has the advantage even though he claims you have luck over him.

Lady Luck versus Miss Fortune.

“You just want to see me naked.” What a joke. You frown as even as Her child, you still lost against him! A fucking mortal! You cross your arms as he places his deck of cards down the table while chuckling at the sight of his unhappy bunny.

“Let’s make this fair.” He removes his jacket, placing it behind the chair neatly before sitting down, “Ready?” As if he cares if you aren't ready.

He just wants to fuck you on the dealer's table.

“Yeah, whatever.”

The first time you had sex with him, he was surprisingly gentle. A gentleman who was more focused on your pleasures than his own. It was strange given how objectifies you in public. He pushes buttons plenty, teasing endlessly, and God, you find yourself stumbling helplessly.

However, you have an affect on him.

See, you do not play nice. You fight him for control rather than let him have it. After all, you still are bitter about losing to him and no amount of him going down on you is gonna change that. In fact, when serving you, you make sure he is a mess before you are.

High Roller does not know what pussy drunk means but you had him a number of times that close. So close to the state of promising anything just to be able to feel you around his cock.

Of course, he has gotten better in keeping himself sane but not by much given you know just where and how to stroke him.

The cards are dealt, the first match you win. He removes his gloves. 

Hours pass.

Pass closing time.

The cleaning shift has since long left.

Risk Taker told you both, before heading upstairs to the hotel portion of the building, to clean up any mess left between the game.

At the time, you still were covered.

Right now you only have stockings left and High Roller has his drawers on.

You tap your finger on the table for a card.

He gives you a card and he takes a card.

“Straight flush, you bastard!” Slamming the cards on the table, “Those come off!” Because you know he would take off his sock garters.

He eyes you with an eyebrow raised as he presents his royal fucking flush.

“What… You son of a bitch!” groaning in your hands as you bend over banging your head on the table in defeat.

“Oh, when will you learn little rabbit, you simply can't beat me.” leaning against his chair, “Now I believe you have an article of clothing to remove.”

You huff as you stand up straight ready to remove the last bit of clothing before you are completely naked… Only because in the damn bunny suit you cannot wear underwear (rather you are not allowed to wear any).

“Wait.” He says, “Hmm.” The idle mind is the Devil's playground but a wandering thought is the Devil himself.

“Double or nothing.”

You know he is going to win, he does not offer something without knowing he certainly will win. With a sigh, long and exasperated, “I’ll bite what are the terms?”

The grin spreads, and he leans forward, “You deal this time. If I get an ace of hearts: you touch yourself for me to watch.”

“You are so obsessed with me it makes you look stupid, babe.” As if you do not sometimes enjoy the attention of the older man.

“Say what you will,” Handing you the deck after he shuffles it, “However, tomorrow night when you are on my lap at this table,” Low and with that fucking cursed sexy low voice, “You will know what that stain on here is from.”

Fuck, fuck, holy fucking him! You hate how your cheeks burn or how that makes you cross your leg over the other as that goes straight to your crotch. “Tsk.” Clicking your tongue before snatching the cards out of his hand.

[residentialsinyomakai]

Obligatory refs + Info of my Yokai Watch Ocs (*＾▽＾*)

Under a cut because there's gonna be a lot of yapping and art stuffs....explodes +□+

Caspian Hernandez || Any Prns || Watcholder

Basics:

The 15 year old 'basically Nate replacement' of this universe!

Lives in Blossom Heights mostly alone, parents are gone pretty often for one reason or another.

In addition, she lives with Baddinyan who is the only reason they're always out of Chocobars

Can see yokai through their glasses (ability can't be deactivated, but he has to focus on yokai for a few seconds in order to actually see/identify them)

Summons them w/ the Yopple-Brand summon band :'] (Customizable! That's why it looks like a disc attached to a Brute Bracer; because it basically is.) Insert disc into a slot in the side!! Whoopie!!!

Not very socially aware due to doing online school up until the age of like 12 (EVIL CAT interactions early on are constantly like 'lol that thing they said actually meant this you dork ahah you fool' 'hush weirdo I'm trying to focus')

((^ i mean in addition to that hes also based on me so like. Neurodivergent canon?? Maybe?? Idk i unintentionslly write characters like me sometimes

A bit goofy and switches moods easily. Some days can be pretty apathetic if she's in a slump.

Gameverse Friend Team of 6: Baddinyan (duh), Badude, Casanuva, Babblong, Tut'n'K'mon, and Rawry

VC: Unbearaboy! from the 'Yo-Kai Watch!' Sub (the blue one in this scene) ((yes I know it's goofy but it's the only clip I could find, skip past the beginning flashback 😭));

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Kerosque || He/Him || Formerly-Alive Yokai

Basics:

Water-Attributed Rank-B yokai of the Tough Tribe

Phrog is about in his upper 40's.

Inspirit; is kinda like when people tend to be kinda cold/curt in the mornings for seemingly no reason.

Runs a ramen stand someplace on the outskirts of Yo-kailafornia. (He's a pretty good chef too)

((He also has little custom pins you can get for free depending on who you are ^u^ a few of his customers/friends tend to.))

Uses his ladle (however you spell it) as a bit of a weapon thing. Comically large goofy ahh 😭

Doesnt go to the human world more often than he needs to. Too much everything

This man HATES stepping foot in downtown he does NOT wanna be there ever-

Kinda perpetually grumpy, resting mildly angry face. He tries to be polite but isn't very talkative at all lol

He does in fact croak. I love frog

Not pictured cause I forgot but like. Has a little swirly stomach pattern

Reoccurring yokai at his stand tend to be: Roughraff, Sick-Kun, Quinn, Ebi, Caspian, Master Oden, and occasionally Bruff.

VC: No clue yet, something along the lines of a higher version of Walrus Captain from A hat In Time, or a less enthusiastic Captain Caviar from Cookie Run? (If you got ideas, feel free!)

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Dread || He/They/Xe || Human-Born Yokai

Basics:

Drain-Attributed Rank-S yokai of the Shady Tribe

Inspirit; kinda similar to intrusive thoughs. Worse case scenario stuff, things that make you think you're an awful person, dreading situations or overthinking anything, etc etc

Is sighted quite a bit around high-schools. Hormones+anxiety+prime place for embarassment? Makes his job too easy

He has low empathy, but isn't completely incapable. Doesn't make a lot of friends and honestly he could care less either way.

Rather flippant, dry humor kinda guy, kinda similar to Jax from tadc for reference

He does have hair under there (i thought thatd be obvious but then again you'd probably also expect him to have skin and a chest/stomach under his hoodie so aifkwod), but it's usually kinda greasy.

Heart is a weak point in battle. If he ever let's it be exposed in the first place, that is

Cannot be seen by Caspian earlier in the story. Around the point I'd expect him to be in most of my drawings, he's at 'watch' Rank-B

Likes to taunt people, the easier to provoke the better. He feeds off of negative reactions and emotions for both entertainment and soul food nom nom

Usually a sad reaction is better than an angry one for him. If he finds someone's emotional weakness he most likely Will Exploit it XnX

While he doesn't care for anyone, he tends to harass Fuwhirl and Negatibuzz the least.

VC: Dont kill me but Raggedy Andy from Raggedy Anne's Musical Adventure

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Swiss || He/Him || Human-Born Yokai

Basics:

Electic-Attributed Rank-C yokai of the Eerie Tribe

Inspirit; is why people (usually kids) are picky eaters. This can look like randomly losing an appetite/ just finding several things repulsive/I'm bald/nuance/ref

Wanders around wherever. Lives in one of the Tranquility Apartments officially tho.

(Fuwhirl lives w him after they reunite <333 long story short they know him)

Has pretty poor eating habits himself tbh

Is edible!! Technically!!! He would not reccomend it (he's cake roll flavored :'])

The swirl in his hair can be dyed different colors.)

Going off of that, he can regenerate. Useful, but kiiiinda painful

He's a bit of an a-hole, and absolutely doesn't know when to shut up. He doesn't like to fight tho surprisingly (°>°)

Sarcastic and quick to snap back at someone =u=

(There's a strange old man he helps with experiments concerning his odd biology....he hasn't been posted yet but he belongs to my friend @sketchdeath22)

VC: lol idk

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Fuwhirl || They/Them || Object-Born Yokai

Basics:

Wind-Attributed Rank-D yokai of the Mysterious Tribe

Inspirit; Makes people dizzy either randomly or after standing up ×□×

Lived at a circus for a while, but eventually it moved out of town. After a bit of aimless wandering they found their way to Blossom Heights 🌸!!!

Kinda stumbles when they walk, it's worse when they're distressed but a bit more easy to navigate when they're happier &u&

Naive, likes to think anyone's nice under the surface +▽+

Is kinda like Tattletell's in the way he had to be latched on to you to be effective. Typically via a backpack

Has one of those build-a-bear hearts inside him!!! Whoopie :)

VC: Uhhh I forgot atm but I will come back and edit lol

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Anyways, that's not including my like 'ocified versions of pre-existing characters' agsgydirofor I love yapping about ocs!!! Wahoo :)

[oops-all-concrete]

This was requested by @wine-effectao3 !!

BG3 characters react to the other companions story events/conflicts! These lovelies watch each other go through so much and I have so many HC's about how they feel/interact. There isn't a HC for every character combination, but I did as many as I have rn- I'm open to a part 2 👀

Spoilers for BG3! Enjoy the fluff ^^

(I don't have another image rn, so enjoy my necromancer durge; Ezerah)

Lae'zel -

Lae'zel tends to keep to her own affairs, so stays distant, but watching the Blade of Frontiers gain horns from the source of his commitment and power over what was essentially a mislead, a lie?? The thought of Vlaakith doing the same to her, makes her sick. But inspired her all the same, seeing him take it in stride. She always spoke highly of him as a warrior. Shadowheart gained Lae'zels sympathies as well after the fall of Ketheric. Both Wyll and Shadowheart never have to worry about their weapons being maintained and sharpened. Lae'zel gladly allows them both as much time to relax as she can.

Shadowheart -

Knowing she and Astarion have such similar stories makes the vampire seem a lot more...human, for lack of a better term. She understands that all his avoidance and irritation with immediate kindness isn't out of just being mean- he doesn't want to come off as vulnerable or easy to take advantage of ever again. She goes out of her way to make comments so people know the kindness is begrudging or hesitant, so people don't get that idea. He doesn't know she does that. She won't tell him either. And as much as they butt heads, Lae'zel would have a cleric at her side at a moments notice if she asked.

Wyll -

Watching a man like Gale (someone Wyll looked up to given his mastery of magic without need for a devil's pact) be told by his goddess his old lover- turn so cold as to ask for his death? Nothing makes him more hopeless. Wyll tried to take his mind off it by asking Gale about his home, asking him about plans, making sure he has them. Because Wyll won't let him sacrifice himself. On top of that, he feels awful for Karlach. She inspires him so much knowing what she went through in Avernus and survived, still giggling and dancing. As a lover of dance, he teaches her ballroom and formal dance, in turn, she teaches him house and breakdancing.

Karlach -

There is nobody she feels for in the camp quite like Astarion. She cannot stand the utter hopelessness, anger and betrayal in his eyes and voice whenever he speaks of Cazador, and how willing he is for help from a devil of all people. She knows that desperation. It hurts to see. She sh!t talks Gortash and Zariel with him, so he has an excuse to talk about wiping the floor with Cazador. She also likes watching Gale get excited whenever she asks him a question about- anything really. She hates when his big brown eyes get all sad, so she'll keep him occupied talking about weave and potioncraft and old scripture.

Gale -

While it doesn't bother Wyll so much, Gale is a mommas boy, and can't imagine not having her. He makes plans for his mother to meet Wyll. She makes amazing brownies, and every person should be able to enjoy a mothers baking. (Wyll loves Morena and visits her often after act 3. She loves him for keeping her son safe.) Other than this, watching Lae'zel and Shadowheart lose the admiration of their Gods hurts him personally. He knows that fall. Goes out of his way to make sure they don't lose hope. "Who's to say you can't still have a dragon? There's plenty around. Bigger. Scarier. Probably also hates mind-flayers. Perfect for a woman of your demeanour." He assures her. / "If its any consolation, I like the new hair, Shadowheart. Between you and me, you look much better with white hair than he does" He jokes.

Astarion -

As a man used to fixing his things (since they're all he's got) he goes out of his way to make sure Karlachs things are all in good shape. Clive gets torn at some point or other, and he's pulling out his fabrics and sewing set and wordlessly returns him to Karlachs tent, much to her relief. Neither of them have a lot- so of course he's going to maintain what she has. She deserves it. Also, Shadowheart telling her story hits home for Astarion a lot. Being vulnerable, scared and otherwise an easy target- and having your whole life turned upside down because someone took advantage of it? He becomes a lot more talkative with her. Even if it's just over wine and complaining. Oh, and of course nothing makes him happier than watching Lae'zel turn her back on Vlaakith. Go her.

Halsin -

Halsin has nothing but praise for Wyll. His endless kindness, his patience with the teifling children, his level-headedness in crisis- he is the leader Halsin wishes he was. Halsin also sees Astarions hunger for power. Halsin might not speak of it often, but he's had at least 3 years of what Astarion's suffered for 200, and he knows how much powerlessness feels like vulnerability. He let's the vampire know he's got a bear at his back, even if its met with an eye roll.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Hi, can I request break up to make up (angst to fluff) story with Jake Kim? It was when Jake running an illegal toto, that time Jake was super busy that he neglected his s/o & his s/o hated that he running an illegal bussiness, then they broke up. After he got out from juvenile, he looked after his s/o to say sorry and try to win his s/o's heart back. Sorry for my bad english & thank you in advance 💙

Anon, your english is pretty fantastic. And even if it isn't, don't apologise for it!

Thanks for the ask and so sorry for the delay!

Jake Kim x Reader: To the end

Gambling arc to juvie release

"I have to do this for Big Deal."

"But this isn't what Big Deal stands for!"

"It's what I need to do for us to survive."

You hate that Jake never looks at you. Not once. Like he's already made up his mind. You were meant to stand with him to the end. He promised.

"You know how much Sinu would hate this!"

"Sinu isn't here anymore." Jake's words hit you like a gut punch.

He catches your lower lip trembling. Those lips he's kissed a thousand times before, and wants to kiss forevermore. Your touch, your taste. It's seared into his memory.

"You're going to ruin other people's lives including your own. I can't watch you do this," you whisper. He's going down a path you cannot and will not follow.

Countless shows and movies and books have misled you. You thought a break up would be screaming, tears, anger. All you feel is empty. Helpless.

Like the Jake Kim you know is slipping between your fingers and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

"I don't want you to neither," Jake holds your hands, thumbs brushing your knuckles. He memorises the feel of your hand in his.

I'm protecting you, he reasons. It's for the best.

He forces the words out, "I think this is the end of the road for us."

How odd to think only a couple days ago you woke up in each other's arms. You thought your love for one another was so obvious, that everyone could practically see a love heart pulsating overhead.

Yet now, so suddenly, you've reached a dead end.

"...If that's what you want," You can't bring yourself to remove your hands from his, to sever the last of your connection.

Big Deal is too dangerous. Your safety is a risk Jake cannot take. The gambling racket is a burden he needs to shoulder. Alone.

"It is," he lies, and lets you go.

He never meets your gaze even as you leave.

It's easier this way.

.

.

"Please Jerry, just write down what I say and deliver it to Y/N."

Even with the visitor's barrier between them, Jake could feel the displeasure radiating off Jerry.

(When Big Deal initially found out about the break up, no-one said a word. They didn't need to. The disagreement with how their leader has handled his own personal relationship was written all over their faces.)

And maybe Jake should let sleeping dogs lie, Jerry certainly thought so. But after ending up in Juvie, he feels like he owes you an explanation. Or at least an apology.

Shame that you are right to the bitter end. The lives he's dragged down with him weigh heavy on his conscience. That young kid - Jiho. Members of Big Deal including Brad, Jason.

What a mess.

.

.

Juvie gives Jake a lot of time to think.

That the quicker you forget about him, the better.

But the thought of forgetting you. Of referring to you as in the past, history, done. Of your face and smile and voice fading from memory. It hurts him more than he can bear.

Every night, drifting off to sleep in a room full of other delinquents, he would allow his thoughts to wander.

What are you doing with your life now? Are you still fretting over your grades? Have you been spending your spare time with friends? Did you go to that new cafe in the end? See that film you were excited for? Have you found someone that could actually make you happy? Do you still think about me? Do you remember the times we had? Do you miss me like I miss you-

Jake imagines the lilt of your voice as you respond, eyes bright and full of life, smile beautiful and beaming.

Other times, the masochism takes hold and under the cloak of darkness, Jake gives into the fantasy of you both living a normal life. An alternate universe where there are no complications, and you are both two kids that simply fell in love.

Eventually, dawn breaks and in the cold light of day, there is no escaping reality.

.

.

"Hi Jake,"

"Y/N?"

It's you. Really you. Is this a nightmare or the most perfect dream? Jerry had delivered the letter and this was the last thing Jake expected. Did he not make it clear enough how dangerous this is for you?

"Yeah... Jerry pulled some strings so I could visit you."

Oh. Well Jerry kept this quiet.

Awkwardness and tension lingers in the air. Neither one of you had spoken or seen each other since that night nearly a year ago.

"Y/N..." Strange that your name feels rusty on Jake's tongue when you are constantly in his thoughts.

"Fuck you," Your vitriol catches him off-guard. Eyes full of fury, lips turned down, "You promised we're a team. You promised you wouldn't leave me out."

You slam the letter against the screen, "This is bullshit, Jake Kim. And you know it."

"How do you not understand this?" Jake's voice starts to rise in frustration, "The danger with Gun and the crews? This is for the best-"

You cut him off with the one and only question that matters to you. That frayed the edge of your sanity for months on end-

"Do you still love me?"

The question stuns him. He considers saying otherwise but he can't refute this. After everything, denying it feels like one lie too far.

Jake doesn't offer anything but a lack of answer is enough for you. For your spark of hope.

"I'll wait for you. I'll see you when you get out."

Your intentions are laid clear. Jake doesn't say no.

.

.

You don't visit again.

However, you give snippets of your life faithfully delivered by Jerry.

It starts as a few sentences, then develops into paragraphs, and finally into pages.

Snapshots of you. Your life, your thoughts. A little like how it used to be.

Jake hears your voice each time he reads your words. Thinks about your furrowed brows or dimpled smile that accompanies. He reads each letter over and over again, until they're dog-earred and turning brittle at the creases.

Even the ones full of anger and hurt.

He responds whenever he can. Treasuring the stationery rewarded for good behaviour, greedily hoarding it all to write back.

Over the weeks and months, the ice starts to thaw.

.

.

On the day Jake is released, the rest of the crew greet him with smiles and signage and "Good to have you back, Sir!"

You're also there. Standing next to Jerry and Big Deal, like you have always belonged.

"Welcome back, Sir," you tease, easily slipping back into old habits.

"You actually waited for me?"

"I said I would."

Of course you did. But Jake couldn't blame you if you changed your mind.

.

.

The conversation continues in his bedroom. Away from prying but well-meaning ears.

Jake has missed this. Being around his things, his crew, his street, you.

"I love you, you idiot. For better or worse."

The underlying tension still remains though you see no point in withholding the depth of your affection.

Jake takes a moment, running your words through his mind. He still needs to ensure you truly understand what being with him means.

"You know how dangerous getting mixed up with Big Deal is, right?" he attempts. You cut him off with a sharp look.

Seriously. If he starts this shit up again. Who does he take you for? Some innocent little girl?

"Fine, fine." Jake holds up both hands as a sign of surrender, before he finally says those words you have been dreaming of:

"I love you too."

(He wonders if he would ever regret this moment of weakness and selfishness, but he sees your smile and knows he could never regret making you happy.)

The tension breaks.

Jake slips easily back into his old habits too, snaking his arms around your waist and capturing your mouth in a kiss.

He has missed this - being yours, most of all.

When you break apart, Jake doesn't shy away from your gaze this time. He intends to keep his promise to you. You're his partner. His equal.

With him to the end.

[txtmetonight]

Two Slow Dancers

call summary ⋆ ★ As a young child, you preached over the thoughts of soulmates. Huening Kai had too, believed that two souls intertwined like puzzles–fitting perfectly. But sometimes, it’s almost too fitting to be true.

pairing *. * Huening Kai x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Angst

warnings *. Death, Cheating, Blood, Pregnancy, Bad Grammar, Crude language

call duration⋆ ★ 6.1k

a/n*. * Zoowemama 😍 finally wrapped up this series lol i'm js a bit late but whatever. ermm hyuka is an asshole ngl :(

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet//@oreoqueen // @woncheecks//@probably-too-obssessed// @matcha-binz

The Mitski Diaries Masterlist

The idea of soulmates is beautiful.  

It’s astoundingly astronomical how the stars believe that two fated souls are meant to be intertwined, are supposed to be carried with one another while death does them apart, in their graves with smiles on their faces because... they had each other. You like the word “each other” for it means you wouldn’t have to die at the hands of loneliness, strangled by its cruel hands, which you beg for it to stop. 

Though you detest the word “had”.  

Your mom has your dad. Your older brother has found your sister-in-law. And your friends were dating their boyfriends, some already turned into fiancés. And you had Huening Kai, arguably the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. You were supposed to have him, but you had him.  

The walls of your bedroom walls were non-existent with personality, not a splotch of color that you could find for you wanted to wallow inside of your broken heart. You were to not make it past the age of twenty-one because your soulmate doesn’t love you anymore. You are dying of a broken heart and cannot do anything to stop it. And so, you cry.

You suppose that you hate Kai, but you really don’t. You can’t because that’s what fate had written down for you. A tale of despair between a couple that couldn’t hold much of a spark even through what the universe had chosen for them.  

You and Huening were a special case. And it hurt horribly the day that he had admitted that he had strayed off the path of love for you two. You weren’t the best with feelings, so you let him go as you watched with shame and a burning face that you wanted to melt off. He didn’t hold you in his heart anymore...but you still do, so what are you supposed to do now? Laugh? Forget?  

The answer was to do nothing at all and wait until your last day. 

And tomorrow is it.  

Does it smell like a school gymnasium in here? It's funny how they're all the same

You don’t prefer the new layout of the school gym at all. It crawls and picks at your skin in the way that the floorboards are now a shade of dark brown, and the walls are plastered with flourishing paintings that in your eyes look hideous. But the smell of familiarity still stuck in between the crevices of the gym, holding nostalgic memories that hurt to uncover.

The floor underneath you squeaks, but there is no one except for the meek moon there to listen to the way that your feet drag, unable to lift them for their heaviness has grown with immense dread that burns. The heavens twinkle in delight...at the way that you sorrow. But you’ve grown accustomed to the way that they laugh, drinking in that they will soon gain you through for such pathetic reasons.  

You’re just a bit early but you wanted to swallow the tremor in your throat before you officially meet him. And you want to hide how weak you’ve been getting; you can barely even stand up on your feet for too long before collapsing and your breath seems to run out faster from your lungs with a fervor that makes walking seem like a laborious chore.

You want to stay strong, to uphold an image that you want to be. Wanted it as a mask. But you couldn’t afford it, nope not at all. Not even as hard as you tried, with your memories of heartbreak holding you back.  

The bleachers are cold, and the stairs lead up into a cloud of darkness that you couldn’t peer through even as much as you squinted. The bottom step is made from wood, the only thing that wasn’t even bothered to be renovated, and you cross your legs, patiently waiting for the man of the hour.

You’ve already exchanged goodbyes with your family, have done a few days ago just before you locked yourself in your room, mindlessly hovering over the pictures that the walls held, smiling faintly every once in a while. And you find yourself doing it once more, scanning over the gym where you spent four years of your life, rotting away, piece by piece.  

The door creaks open amidst the silence, but you don’t jolt. Footsteps echo immensely, bouncing off the walls before they abruptly stop, leaving you to slowly snap your head to the shadowy figure that occupies just near the end of the bleachers. That’s where you used to meet up with him, just as the bell rang. You grin. 

“That stupid team is taking up all of your time with me!” Kai grumbles, pulling you closer by the straps of your backpack. Hair a mess and face flushed, you giggle at him and pull off your sweaty headband to launch at your boyfriend, who whines. “Are you not proud of me for making it in?” You snort, looking up at him to find him staring down at you with a soft smile that makes your heart churn.

“Of course, I am. You’re so sexy when you perform.” He dodges your hits with loud chuckles but then quiets down into a large pout. “It’s just that, I feel like we don’t spend that much time together anymore. And they’re like...stealing you away from me. Just say that you want to date your team and be over with it.”   

“Oh hush, stop being dramatic.” You reach over to place a chaste kiss on his cheeks, but he smugly turns his head to connect his lip with yours, which you don’t complain, pressing into him. “And plus, we have all the time in the world to be together. I’m yours, no?” 

You quickly avert your eyes as your stomach aches and stare at your shoes instead, tapping quietly. 

It's funny how you always remember

“Do you still dance?” The voice booms, and it’s comforting yet alienable to you. You take a second to pause, watching the figure walk closer and closer to where you currently sit. “No. I had to give it up.” You don’t provide an explanation, but you’re sure that he knows why.

“It was your whole life.” He rasps and suddenly you don’t think you’re ready to see him, because the moonlight lights his face up with a luminous glow, he almost looks like a fucking angel.

Your body reacts to the sight before you even realize it, and you lurch painfully as tears prick your eyes, coughing quite violently into your palms. A stingy smell of metal meets your nose, but you don’t pay mind to it the way that Kai does, eyes wide with a fearful shadow on his face. Turning to him, you wipe the liquid on the stairs and scoot over just a bit. 

“So were you.”  

“I’m sorry.”  

You shake your head and sigh, patting the space next to you. He hesitates a little but stalks over with long, slow steps, his hands curling into tight fists that pierce his palms before he relaxes them again–a habit you’ve seen countless amounts of times. Your eyes trail up over to his hair, and you notice that it’s a soft brown, just like he used to have it when you were with him and it makes your fingers tremble when you know that dyed it on purpose just for you. He knows.  

It was blonde just a few days before–but you’ve always liked brown on him.  

Kai is stunning and has always been, but he seems unreal as he sits down next to you with a golden face and soft smile that you can’t rip your eyes from, however hard you try to. And the way that he stares at you, penetrating your skin with a sharp glare that melts you inside, sends rolls of lightning down your back.  

“How have you been?” He’s tender when he speaks and gentle as he lifts his fingers to brush away a strand piece of hair from your face as if you were going to break if used much force. Yet the contact leaves your muscles spasming with pain, softly trying to grasp your leaving breath. Huening flinches too, pulling his hand back with a light gasp. “Oh no, I didn’t know that was going to hurt.”  

You can’t help but pull a smile and chuckle. “That’s alright. Honestly, I’ve felt worse before.” His eyebrows furrow but he doesn’t say more except to encourage you to answer his previous question with a shaky grin.  

“But...I think I’ve been fine? How about you? You’re dating someone aren’t you?” His lips turn at your words, and he softly grasps your hand beside him, your eyes widening at his sudden reaction. This time around your lungs don’t choke, but you think that you’re being drowned alive as Kai’s eyes drown with unexplainable tears. But you don’t do anything, instead, you intently watch him try to get words out, gaping like a pitiful fish.  

“Fuck I don’t even know why I’m crying...I just... I’ve been doing good too.” His flushed cheeks carry words that he couldn’t say and so you move just a little closer, but it feels wrong, especially when he another woman that he had at home waiting for him...but it wouldn’t hurt to indulge, right? “I shouldn’t have asked to meet up, should I? I’m sorry” You whisper, rubbing his cheeks.  

“No please don’t. I’m happy that I’m with you right now. I’ve missed you so much.”  

His words leave a blowing punch to your gut, as you lurch into him, gripping his hands tightly as you start to sob. Kai’s touch awakens sparks up your back, which just worsens when he pulls you closer to him, hugging flush against his chest. You feel like you’re floating as if you’re traveling between time and space, as if everything around you is actually okay... 

“Baby please don’t cry” Your boyfriend whispers in your ear, threading his fingers through your hair, wrapping his arms around your trembling figure. He’s warm like a blanket but that doesn’t stop your onslaught of tears that burn like acid on your cheeks.

Kai places his hand over yours and pulls it up to his lips to gently kiss before his other hand comes to wipe away at your face. His own eyes are overflowing but he stops them for you, trying not to crumble. You sniffle and bury yourself in his neck, trying to calm down your racing heartbeat.

You’ve never preferred to cry in front of others, rather liking to shed tears in the depths of your room but with Kai, you think that you’re safe with your feelings. You think that he’s the one for you to get rid of your sadness, the one that you’re going to love the most because he was Kai and possibly crying was quite stupid since he was your fucking soulmate.

Not your neighbor’s or your desk mate, he was yours. And maybe that’s why you were crying right now, but you didn’t want to dwell on it too much. 

“I think that this such a bad time, but I think that you’re really pretty right now.”  

Choking on a sob, you lift your head from the crook of his neck to stare at him with a curious look, lips puckering into a pout at his sudden confession that leaves his face in a sheepish matter. “W–what?” Grabbing his cheeks, you furrow your eyebrows. “I don’t know why you’re sad, but god I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful and it hurts that you’re crying.” And before you know it, his lips that were just on the side of your jaw pulls you into a slow kiss, soft and tender.  

Just like right now.  

And we've both done it all a hundred times before It's funny how I still forgot

After you two had parted ways on behalf of Kai, your lips would burn each time you wanted the affection of another. Maybe it was the universe refusing your attempts at another love or maybe you just couldn’t move on, but Kai’s lips on you right now are soothing but it churns something heavy deep in your gut. You’ve forgotten how he tastes like candy and how his lashes flutter shut, cherishing the intimate moment and the way that fingers paw at the base of your neck, asking for something more.

You want to blame it on the instincts or the muscle memory at the way that it doesn’t take you a second to push yourself into him, but you knew that you craved his touch for years on end, battling with serious heartache that will eventually end with you in your demise.  

Demise.  

Using your fingers, you gently push Kai’s face away from yours with wide eyes, chest stuttering rapidly. His own eyes draw big, but he doesn’t do anything to move his palm away from where it sat on you, instead, it feels as though he is digging it deeper into your skin. “You don’t love me.” You mumble, almost cry. “You’re not my soulmate anymore or else I–” 

“Would’ve lived. You would be next to me right now and you would be healthy and breathing just fine, and definitely not coughing up blood because god forbid you have it easy!” He gets loud at the end, and his words bounce off the walls, diminishing into nothingness. “But I want you to pretend.” Kai breathes and it makes you mad, furious.  “I don’t want to fucking pretend! This is my reality and I–I just...”  

You initiate the kiss this time. And he hesitates just a little before he leans in. This time around though it’s a bitter feeling of guilt, that fills up your senses and you can tell that Kai felt the same in the way that he squirms around.

A woman quite pretty and just his type doesn’t know her boyfriend was kissing his ex-lover. Was sitting dolled up for him as his hands roam around your face for a feel of something. You feel bad but you can’t stop as your heart slowly stops as the night becomes young and perhaps that’s how you’re trying to rekindle it again. By kissing him.  

You suppose that you hate that word now too. 

“I wish that we could go back again.” Kai pants against the corner of your mouth, finally pulling back a bit to observe you. You don’t know what to say so you avert your eyes and kick a spare gum wrapper from the floor.

“Whatever I guess.” You’re awkward but it’s unfamiliar to you when it’s with the person you’re with right now. You’re left speechless and so is he in the way that he nods his head and leaves not a word hanging in the air after you, and you realize that he’s right. You want to be young again without a thought in the world.

You want to talk again, and not through the monkey’s mouth like you were doing right now but through your actual teeth and tongue that used to chatter nonsensically. You want to breathe through your nose, not through an elephant’s trunk and you wish to be you again. Just you; but you assume that you’ve lost yourself years ago.  

It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again

Only twenty-one and you feel old, dying from blood that cannot be filtered through your veins due to a decaying love story that cannot be revived. The boy in front of you knows it too, but he still tries as he grabs your arm again, palms gone so cold that they stick to your skin like ice. “We have more time.” He says and shakes you out of the daze that you find yourself getting into recently.  

But as it is And it is

“You’re right. Do you want me to leave?”  

He shakes his head ‘no’ and rises to his feet, steady as he holds his hand out for you to take. “I want to take a walk and I’ve been longing to dance with you right after.”

Your fingers curl up against his palm before you’re forced to reel back once more, retching into your elbow as tears prick your eyes, the dark gym flashing into and out of view. Kai is behind you with pats of sympathy that you detest, yet you let him hold you up securely against him.  

“You’re okay” He whispers, and it takes you back to when he used to calm down the anxious tremors that used to encase you whole and it takes you a second to not let everything crash down when you realize that he was the one who was able to cake it down to a mere once in a while occasion where you would have internal panicked spikes of a heartbeat.  

With his comforting words that used to rely based on reassurance and love, you can’t find the affection when he says it now. It’s just you two, but it feels like others are crowding around you with jeers possibly along with the universe and those above taunting you. Because just like he said, they wouldn’t let you have it easy–to be the last ones out.

  

We're just two slow dancers, last ones out We're two slow dancers, last ones out

The gym is square in shape but is jutted out in some places to make room for the front doors and the locker rooms. So, when you and Kai walk, you must avoid the cracks in the wood and instead circle around them.

You don’t know how time has passed along so fast being with him, but you realize that the clock had always ticked faster, since the very beginning, you just weren’t ready. You weren’t sure–or rather prepared if you wanted to spend your time with the man beside you, spend your last breaths with him but the way that he stuns you to no limit makes you swallow down morsels of regret that coat your throat.

He’s quiet and so are you, which lets you have an eye of proper observation of the boy next to you. Kai, who you know from the bottom of your heart, is older than you last saw him.  

It hurts you think. Perhaps more than the scalding pain in your lungs that choke for proper air.  

He’s stayed the same height, but he’s grown into his face, more chiseled features that make you sway because–you couldn’t see him turn into the twenty-one-year-old he is now.

And you’re stuck staying the same, while he gets to change even more, which is not particularly fair yet when you press a soft kiss to his jaw (you’re sure your body moved on its own to blind you from the internal mess you were creating) you wouldn’t want him to have it anyway for fate has already played its tragedy covered cards. 

“You’re pale” He rumbles before he places his palm over your forehead. “And warm too. You have a fever.” And for some reason when he says it with a quiet voice, it pulls back more weary wrinkles into his face, and you wince. You must wonder how you look to him. “I suppose so. I’ve been at my sickest recently.” You mutter, throwing in a weak smile.  

And the ground has been slowly pulling us back down You see it on both our skin

“How much does it hurt? On a scale of one to ten” He says, holding up ten fingers which one is enveloped with your own hand, bringing both of his arms down at the same while he chuckles. “I dunno. Right now, I would give it a... seven point five?” Kai nods solemnly and suddenly you feel small underneath his gaze. “Is that so? I wonder how it feels?”  

“Really bad” You nervously laugh, swinging your arms back and forth in a constant rhythm. “It’s been harder to get out of bed, I just wish...wish that I had more time.” 

“I wish I could give you more time, to live longer. I’m sorry that I can’t.”  

You nod but you’ve fallen into a certain comfortable trance that the conversation is deemed normal to you. Odd and craving for more but no emptiness that leaves your heart desolate. The talk is sentimental and rather than wishing that you had more time to experience the world’s wonders you want more time to chatter with your heart’s content. Talk for years and years with your soulmate. You believe that you deserve it.  

“Do you remember the first time that we met?” Kai softly asks, coming to a halt in front of the doors that lead to the outside corridors. You twinkle and say, “How could I not.”  

You were running late. And in your first year of high school too. The clock screamed that it was currently 8:03 but you were supposed to be in your homeroom by 8:00 and you pray that Mr. Yoon accepted your tardiness with a flourish of his hand.

You’re drenched with sweat and your uniform is tugged wildly and your hair is askew with bits of it falling in your face, but you don’t pay any mind as you try not to crash into the lockers from your crazy sprinting.   

“Oh god!” You cry as you find that out the main doors to your science hallway, where your homeroom sat was locked and so you take a quiet of a big U-turn and make headway to the gym (which an older senior slipped to you was the way to escape the looming locks that the doors had to prevent tardy kids from getting in).

Fortunately, the first-day tour had paid off and you knew that the gym was exactly a hallway down to the left, so when you skid off, your feet landed you exactly in front of the door, tall and brown with a few splinters sticking out.  

“Please be open, please be open, please be open!”  

And it was open. But not by you, but by a lanky boy withholding stacks of papers.  

Perhaps you were blind because of the exhilaration in your veins, or he was just clueless about the desperate girl outside of the door, but you both head butt each other with a hard push, both falling to the ground with a loud grunt of despair. But that quick rush of anguish turns into something more magical. You feel as though you’re on cloud nine, fireworks bursting in your veins as your eyes blur in and out to adjust to the brighter look of colors–a more glowing appearance of the world.

Your fingers tingle and your tongue swirls with a hint of sweetness that you just couldn’t put your finger on. And the ache on your forehead had turned into a pulsing feeling of coolness. Since you were young, you’ve heard and read about the feelings of love and how pure it could be, but you think that the words that have spilled into your ears haven’t given justice to how exactly refreshing it was.  

“Holy...are you okay?” A voice sweet as honey makes your spine shiver with glee. “Yeah, I’m alright, but oh no! I’m late!” You cry, rising to your feet with panic but you’re suddenly held down by a gentle hand.

“It’ll be okay. Let’s go the nurse’s office and say that we had a nasty fall...but all my papers that I was supposed to give out fell.” A boy with the most stunning features you’ve ever seen, pouts at the fallen papers, and your heart practically jumps out from your chest, unable to stop smiling.

You would wonder if he had felt the same explosions as you, but the way that he trembles from the graze of your hand over his shoulder speaks wonders to you.  

“I’ll help.” You assure. 

“I–thank you.” He breathes and suddenly he can’t seem to take his eyes off you, making you feel warm inside. “You’re very pretty.” The unknown boy says, and you flush which makes him laugh.  

“What’s your name?”  

The boy smiles and throws you an eyebrow raise. “Huening Kai. But everyone calls me Kai!”  

Grabbing a piece of paper from the floor you respond with a small pep in your voice. “Yeah? Well, I’m (Y/n).”  

The first date you two shared was in the nurse’s office.  

And many more followed after that yet too less for your liking. 

You don’t even realize that you’re crying but you’re happy. Happy to be where it all started. The gym was the home that your heart lived in and the place that it chose to die. It’s warm. 

Turning your head to Kai, you’re startled to find him already looking at you with a glossy look and a mouth that betrays itself to speak its true words that itch his teeth. You wait patiently though but the silence allows the jarring sound of a ringtone to pierce the air and fade the sentence on the tip of Kai’s tongue.  

"I–oh fuck, Yuna’s calling me.” Kai’s voice stutters and your stomach drops into reality once more.  

We get a few years and then it wants us back 

You’re falling once more, drenched in cold water at the way that his fingers leave your touch, how his lips quirk up into a smile that used to be dedicated to you, and how his tears dry up so easily without a hint of anguish. He’s sweet and you’ve always known that he spits out candy compliments that were sickly as sugar, but it stirs a burning sensation deep in your throat.

And maybe it’s not even how he loves her, but how he makes it so that all of it was an act–that you were a complete fool for thinking that he had an ounce of adoration for you or even pity.

He’s the one that kissed you so softly and sweetly first, but he talks as if you were nothing to him like you weren’t the one that he was supposed to be destined for. 

“Hey sweetheart...I’m hanging out with a friend right now.”  

You can’t feel your legs anymore. The bones in your knees have turned into jelly, but you can’t do anything but woefully stare at him with a longing look of gloom. 

“I’ll be back soon, I promise. Hang tight, I’ll make it up tomorrow for Valentine’s Day, how does that sound?” 

Perhaps you’re going to faint because your vision suddenly spins like a carousel. You’ve always found it ironic how you’re born on the day of love and yet you’re going to die because of it. And now you crave to celebrate your birthday extravagantly instead of wallowing in your sorrows as you did in your previous years.

You wouldn’t be too old, would you? To toast a to yourself? 

It would be a hundred times easier If we were young again

But you chuckle at how you’ve been through it all on Valentine’s day; born, lost your other piece, and soon enough die as you choke on the waters of love. You feel the thorns of the red roses that grow in your stomach filled with envy and yearning, cut into your esophagus, releasing ruby red to drip into the pits of your stomach.  

“Good night. I love you.”  

But as it is And it is

You don’t realize that you’re on the ground until Kai cries at you, hurrying by your side as you sew out copious amounts of blood that your body refuses to keep, all the burning endearment that you’ve held to Kai being let out.

“Hey baby, oh god, you’re alright.” His fingers wrap underneath your waist to pull you up, uncaring of the red that splatters his shirt. You feel like you’re on fire, as you scratch at chest for any type of relief, sobs ripping from the bottom of your guts.  

He pecks your cheeks then your nose, and the corner of your mouth before he moves his lips to your forehead. Huening is certainly frantic with his touch and usually, you wouldn’t mind, but you want to squirm.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, alerting you of how much ever time you have left in your life. 30 minutes. "Oh gosh...” You manage to rasp out, crying at how terrified you feel. Kai must’ve sensed the fear that rolls off you in waves because he hugs you as tight as he can.  

He’s an asshole but you can’t help but love him. And it stabs you in the gut. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay” He chants but you shake your throbbing head, trying to get up from the icky floor. “You can’t–you don’t know that!” You wail but Kai doesn’t pay any attention to your protest, gripping your hand so you don’t fall onto the ground again. It takes you a second to not wobble, using his shoulders as support when you close your eyes. He kisses your head again and stays there, swaying.  

“I fucking hate you.”  

Kai doesn’t react. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re a...a horrible asshole.” You splutter before you grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him. He matches your desperation, even as the taste of metal coats his tongue. He pulls away for a second and crawls his hands over to your face, cradling you in his cold palms.

“I want to dance with you. Just one last time.” When he said that before, you weren’t sure if he was serious but as soon as you nod, he rubs his hand down your sides to place on your hips. 

“Just one last time.” You repeat back to him.  

Kai is swift with his feet but not as fast as you. His hands swing with grace, but they don’t beat the way that you make your arms float. Or how you swivel around, flying with charm. You two are in your room, dead at night, but a soft slow song plays its notes. You feel love in the air.

The pads of your boyfriend’s fingers thread against your skin, pressing into your waist. He spins you around, but his eyes never leave your own pair, and he thinks that you look like an angel like this. An angel in his arms–he’s possibly the luckiest boy in this world. He ghosts over your neck before he moves away so he can tug you into him once more.

Kai presses lingering kisses all over you just to hear more of your giggles. And once the song stops singing, leaving a quiet atmosphere in its wake, you trip into your bed. It’s warm next to him, and cozy and you would like to spend anything here next to him for the rest of your life.  

To think that we could stay the same To think that we could stay the same

It’s the same this time around, but his touch on you is cold. Your sneakers squeak on the ground and you’re definitely not poised with your moments, but you wonder if Kai sees you as beautiful as you were in your element when you were younger. You spin and try not to fall, but you trust him to not let you trip over your own torment.

There’s no music this time except for the beating of your heartbeats, one slowing down and the other racing with adrenaline. You both are growing apart as you two did before, not in sync with anything anymore. You kiss his neck and feel the goosebumps that arise.  

The moonlight watches with tears in its eyes and the wind comes to a stop, letting you two soak into each other in peace. The grasshoppers hold their head down in pity and two doves stare into the depths of the lake, hearts aching. And you’re growing weak with each passing moment which Kai can feel in his arms. 

His tears start to plow down his flushed cheeks.  

To think that we could stay the same 

Your vision starts to fade in and out, but you don’t give up, leaning into the boy. He coordinates your arms to place them along his nape, pulling you close. You’re dying and you know it more than ever how life seeps out of the pores of your skin. Yet you feel a sense of tranquility, dancing slowly with the love of your life.  

“I love you.” You whisper, nuzzling into him. You’re trying to calm his breathing down as he sobs. He cries and cries while you slowly mumble sweet nothings into his ear, closing your eyes which he realizes before he slams his lips onto your mouth.

Blood fills your mouth with agony and your lungs wheeze unable to get anything, but you don’t pull away, relishing in his honey mouth. 

“Oh fuck! I’m so sorry. So sorry about–about–Yuna! And everything. I’m such a horrible person.” Kai howls, eyes widening as your arms go limp around him. Your legs give but he keeps you upright against him.  

“Am I just a friend?” You ask. 

He shakes his head wildly. “No!” 

You weakly laugh at him. Your time is up. “Then good. I’m your soulmate. You’ll remember that won’t you?”  

But we're two slow dancers, last ones out 

“I’m so sorry (Y/n)” Kai mumbles, holding out a bouquet of flowers for you to take. “What...what do you mean that you don’t love me anymore?” You say voice cracking in the middle, gently pushing away the flowers in his hands, his eyes falling down to his shoes in shame. His silence says a lot and you take a step back. “Why?”  

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel that spark anymore.”  

You scoff and angrily wipe the tears away from your face. “I’m your soulmate, you just can’t–” 

“I’m so sorry.” He cuts you off, eyebrows dipping down. He still looks so beautiful in your eyes and so you sob. Kai places the flowers by your feet and turns to walk away, opening the doors of the gymnasium to escape into. You feel discarded as you watch him, but you want to throw one more word in before he leaves you to be. There’s a burning sensation in your lungs.  

“You better remember that I’m your fucking soulmate the next time you...you date someone else. Because I know that there will be no one as good as me, no one else that will make you feel like that!” You scream, throat raw. You're hurting everywhere when he whips his head around, tears glinting in his eyes, making you hiss pathetically.  

“I know.”  

When you fall against him, he stumbles onto his legs, your heart-stopping in its glory. A shrill silence follows through before it’s cut by his screams of pain. He feels your death through his veins as the universe spoon-feeds him the truth. His tears feel acidic on his skin but the ones that roll down your cheeks, are more painful than imaginable. His heart tears into two.  

“Happy Valentine’s Day...and birthday, love,” Kai says into your neck, pressing kisses into where you would be able to feel your heartbeat, hoping that they could revive you. 

We're two slow dancers, last ones out 

Kai has never thought much about having a family–except with you. But here he is in the hospital room with his wife, tears running down his face. Yuna thinks that he’s happy, and he believes that too, but he knows that there’s a lingering sense of prickling at his heart.

February 14th holds a special place in his heart for many reasons that thinking too much about brings great pain to him. Yet a baby should drive happiness, no? 

He’s now a father to a wonderous daughter.  

But as he stares at her, he wonders if he’ll actually ever love her. He’s having doubts. He drags his attention to his wife who is not his soulmate but a woman that he loves. But she’s not you. He doesn’t have a family with you, have kids with you...so will he ever harbor great attraction to them. Like he does to their mother, he knows that he doesn’t love her as deeply as he did with you.  

“What should we name her?” His wife asks, staring at his brown hair that got mangled in a mess. 

A name leaves the tip of his mouth, eyes widening before he realizes what he just uttered.  

“(Y/n).” 

She smiles and the deep veins of hatred infiltrate just a little bit deeper. But when the little girl in his arms yawns, he finally cracks. And when he sways with her, just after her mother falls asleep, he dances with love. 

Two slow dancers, last ones out 

It’s alright. He’ll love her forever because he couldn’t do it with you.