#not sure which one to commit to yet

[whippetcrimes]

So one of the female puppies is brindle and the other is black and white. I thought for sure both brindles were girls... must've misheard in the video

[crispyjenkins]

the savage price of piety (wipwed 1)

desmond rivals obi-wan for blorbo status, so you can perhaps imagine how insane i feel about him. here's my silly little (very large) au where he's sort of an auditore except not really except he absolutely is except the borgia had him for a while except he's killed SO MANY people. y'all get no more context than that. (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found/created family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears and none of them come from des. he WILL use his future knowledge to mutter things that would absolutely get him burned at the stake)

  Was it the failure or the death that chased Cesare away and stopped him from doing more than removing the bodies? Was leaving it empty a reminder from Rodrigo of Cesare’s embarrassment?

  There are still bloodstains in the corridors, visible to the naked eye. Some valuables have been taken, but not all; he supposes looters still fear the rumours of haunting that Desmond put out while newly with the Borgia. Or maybe it was the fake satanic ritual he’d set up in the front hall, complete with animal sacrifices?

  He’s quite proud of that, actually, especially when he finds it barely disturbed just before the main staircase. He’d had to sneak away from his handlers to do it, very soon after he’d been dragged to Castel Sant’Angelo, and Cesare had threatened to take his hand off for it, but clearly Desmond’s work had been convincing enough to keep people from ransacking his... childhood home.

  To keep people from finding anything about the Assassins, or Desmond, that he hadn’t managed to destroy.

  Maybe he’s even morally obligated to burn the place down, if leaving it standing is such a potential risk, but two things stop him: 1) most of renaissance Rome is made of wood, and one of the few historical events unrelated to his ancestors that Desmond remembers is the Great Fire of London, and he can’t exactly guarantee that setting fire to the castello won’t set fire to the whole rione as well. And 2) despite hating every single person that resided there with him, this had still been Desmond’s home, in ways even the Farm hadn’t been. The latent grief of Ezio losing the Palazzo Auditore won’t let him be the hand that destroys the Castello Tarazed.

  Christ, he’d even left his room intact.

-

[paceplace]

it's kind of a shame the devs back in tto never thought to give certain NPCs, particularly the storyline and SOS-relevant ones, special outfits that no one can obtain as a way for them to stand out from the others. i'm pretty sure i've said this before but i've always been fond of the alternative outfits clara, flippy, and professor pete wore in their character trading cards and i think it would've been neat to see how they'd go about making personalized designs for all of them in accordance to their role in the tooniverse/personality/shtick (if applicable).

pretty sure the closest thing the folks over at disney did to give their npc's "uniqueness" aside from their shops was altering flippy's in-game model/making it so that his name can't be something that's accepted by players so people can't make a toon thats an exact replica of him and giving two (2) npc's colored gloves but that's it.

[mymarifae]

oh yeah did you guys know that the official hsr twitter accidentally posted this cutscene art

with, uh, this guy's sword in the background

and that sword also very much appears to be the sword that killed cyrene

and it also happens to look like, uh. phainon's sword. haha

i don't know how many concrete conclusions i want to draw from all of this but man. isn't that something to think about

[shapelytimber]

Pj party for the gang <3

[BG3 PRINTS] - [COMMISSIONS]

(Please don't spoil me act 3, I've still not got around to play it-)

Everytime I go to camp to clock in for the night, and a good 4 out of 6 of these fuckers go to sleep wearing *leather* outfits- I understand it from a 'this is a video game of course they don't change clothes to go sleeping' perspective..... But on the other hand I slept once in leather pants and that was one of the worst experiences of my life, so to think these people do it voluntarily everynight- freaks. All of them.

So I gave them pyjamas :D that was a lot of fun ! Also I like when characters have a more diverse builds and sizes, so I killed two birds w one stone and drew what the gang looks like in my heart <3 and of course I made a quick little line up !

A lot of yapping about the pj choices and process below vvv

Gale : fancy depressed wizard gets a fancy bathrobe type get up ! I don't think this man was getting dressed a lot in that sad year post his breakup, so why not invest in a comfy cool pj he can slip on in the morning feeling like it kinda counts as dressing up ! And I get that they didn't exactly pack before getting kidnapped by aliens, but Gale is a wizard I'm sure he can just reach into a pocket dimension where he stores some of his belongings (ala my tes mage !) or something

Astarion : I don't think astarion owns many clothes. He isn't wealthy, and well.... Let's not talk about Cazador in the fun pyjama party post- so his ruffled shirt untucked from a pair of looser cotton or silk pants it is ! Also I learned that elves are typically shorter on average in dnd and that's great, that's perfect, that's so funny, I can just picture him insisting this is true (which it is).... And then enters Halsin fjdjdk anyway

Halsin : I just know in my heart that man sleep in his bear form. It's when he's most comfortable, and he doesn't need to talk to other people when sleeping so why not. Also comfy bed mate :) ! Other option is completely nude (yes I forgot to include him in the lineup, sue me but I'm too tired to re open photoshop rn-)

Shadowheart : this is my art, and if I want the resident goth girly to be in a cute little nightgown I can >:( she gets lace and everything let me be a lesbian !!! Also she small and sturdy

Wyll : a slight variation of his canon camp clothes :) made his top less skintight, and once again changed the texture from leather to something less terrible to sleep in seriously why are all these people committed to this lifestyle-

Lae'zel : no pjs, a githyanki must be ready for battle 24/7 only the weak wear comfy clothes and don't commit to sleeping in leather pants and leather underwear. She's a freak and I love her dearly

Karlach : she deserves the best pyjamas of them all : topless in underwear. Nothing comfier than that and it's not like she'll get cold :) also she wears it very well what can I say fjdjdkd

I started working on the lineart like a month ago alongside a commission that I really didn't like working on- so anytime I got work done for the commission (btw not from someone online so it's none of you tumblrinas), I would reward myself with adding more shit to the bg3 drawing djdjdkk which resulted in a lot of details and clutter, that I didn't want to start coloring because that would be a nightmare to figure out and very long to do, so I would continue adding shit instead of starting colors- and the circle kept turning. Also 10 hands..... So this took a while to get right fjdjdk

But on the bright side, it's the most detailed illustrations I've done yet and I'm really proud of it (especially all the little story elements I could include <3)

[lizardho]

One of the weird things about growing up me is just the increased lack of social awareness sort of slowly reaching a crescendo in junior high. I remember getting picked on a lot more as I got older and older in elementary school, and the bullying started hitting in a weird way in Jr. High. Like, my knowledge of age-appropriate things had finally capped out and I was just entirely oblivious to the fact I was being picked on. Sometimes people made it easy, like the kid who told me my mom made me wrong, but sometimes it was harder. I do have some interesting memories from that time, though, and a lot of them are centered around a very small group of people who were willing to explain things to me. I remember in 7th grade I met a girl in a math class who was incomprehensibly kind to me. She wanted to be a special ed teacher, her older and younger brothers were both on the autism spectrum, and she was friends with all the emo and goth kids, so she was like the perfect storm of patient kindness and anti-establishment knowledge I needed. I remember one day walking out of math class after a fairly hard quiz, and she said,

“Oh man, that quiz was hard. I could really use a hug.”

An I responded with, “Oh, yeah, a hug would be awesome.” And then we just kinda sat there until I saw the light flick on in her brain, like “Oooh, that’s what her deal is!” and she said “Hey, can I have a hug from you?” and I said, “Yeah!” And gave her a hug, and like, even if I didn’t know what my deal was, she sure as hell did.

In addition to being absurdly kind, she was also EXTREMELY conventionally attractive, good at makeup, funny, and had an insatiable bloodlust for bullies, so she drew a lot of a certain type of people in. I always kinda felt lucky just being her friend because God only knows how I would have lived otherwise. One day we were walking to an assembly and she did a little jog to catch up to me because my confused gay ass always walked SUPER fast, and she got me to slow down so we could talk and that was VERY kind. And because of that, one of the kids in our class who had a HUGE crush on her and didn’t know the next thing about her thought that if he made me look mad enough or dumb enough or something that she’d stop talking to me and start talking to him. So he starts by coming up to me and saying,

“Hey dude, I fucking fingered your sister last night.”

And I am a bonafide grade-a dumbass who Does Not Know What Sex Is so I thought he meant he fingered her for a crime. But my sister was like 5 so I was like “What crime could a 5 year old commit?” so I was like “What do you mean? Like, shoplifting?”

And to his credit, he kinda stopped for a second. Not because he wanted to, but because with all his experience as a bully he had yet to encounter someone quite as earnestly confused as me. After he recovered from what, to him, was a bizarre crazy-person non-sequitur, he said,

“No, dude, I mean I fingered your sister last night.”

And I said, “Dude, she’s like…5, what could you have fingered her for?” And he was doubling down so he goes “Because I fucking wanted to,” with a big cocky smile on his face, which was NOT an answer to my question because I NEEDED to know what crime this dick thought a 5 year old could commit between 6:00 dinner and 8:30 bed time. So I kept asking, “But like, what was the crime? Like what did you finger her for?” and he kept being like “Because I want to” or “Because your sister’s nasty like that,” both of which were wholly insufficient answers. He thought I was ignoring him or stupid, and I thought he was a total moron, and realistically both of us were right.

And the whole time we’re talking about this, she is glaring daggers at him and telling him to Shut The Entire Fuck Up because she knows what he’s saying and she knows I do not and she doesn’t want me to learn like this. And finally, because he thinks she’s doing that thing that girls don’t actually do but that boys THINK they do of feigning being mad to play along and egg me on, he starts looking at her like they’re in cahoots, and she says “Oh my God you sick jerk just leave us ALONE!” and that gets a teacher’s attention. And suddenly he’s red-faced and confused because he thought he was looking like Chad Thundercock the top king stud of all time and realistically he’s looking more like the comedy relief pseudo-bully from an 80s film. And because she yelled at him to leave us alone, a teacher almost immediately comes over to check on what’s going on, and she explains it all in graphic detail and that kid got detention and probably a tension headache from trying to make his brain think good enough to figure out how all this happened. And once it was done she just grabbed my arm by the elbow and said “I’m so sorry about that, come on, let’s just go,” and I said, “Idk why you’re sorry, I don’t even know what’s going on.” And she said, “I know, sweetie, I know. Do me a favor and don’t look it up.” And because I promised her I didn’t end up knowing what fingering was until I was a Sophomore in high school when someone in theater explained it to me and I was retroactively so mad at this kid I almost went blind.

I actually have a LOT of stories about this kind of stuff so if y’all like this I will post more.

[honeyncherry]

taste me now - bfb!rafe

summary in which rafe can’t help himself around his little sister’s best friend, especially after what happened last week

content 18+, suggestive

masterlist

Sarah’s laugh rang out across the backyard as the two of you sat by the pool. She was mid-story, something about Kiara’s latest terrible date, or maybe it was JJ’s? You weren’t sure. Her words blurred together, punctuated by exaggerated hand gestures and little bursts of laughter. 

You were doing your best to listen — really, you were.

But you could feel him. 

Rafe was up on the deck, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. A cigarette balanced between his fingers, the faint trail of smoke curled lazily into the air drifting in soft, spiraling ribbons. And while his gaze stayed mostly fixed on the horizon, you knew better.

He wasn’t looking at you, not overtly, at least. But the occasional flick of his gaze in your direction was enough to make your stomach twist.

The memory of that kiss burned hotter than the relentless summer sun. You’d told yourself it was a mistake. An impulsive, heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment. You were Sarah’s best friend, for goodness’ sake!

There were rules about these things. 

Rules you’d shattered the second his lips touched yours.

And yet, even now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. About the way his hand had lingered on that sliver of exposed skin between your top and too-short skirt, his touch leaving a trail of warmth that refused to fade. How his other hand settled at the curve of your jaw, his thumb grazing your cheek with a quiet, consuming intensity. As though he were mapping every contour, committing it to memory. And most of all, the way he’d breathed out your name, his voice deep and reverent, like it was something sacred. Something meant to be cherished by him alone.

You shifted in your chair, skin prickling under the weight of your own thoughts. The guilt coiled tight in your chest, its grip almost suffocating. You told yourself again and again that you shouldn’t be looking at him. You shouldn’t even be thinking about him.

But you couldn’t stop.

“Ugh, one sec,” Sarah said suddenly, cutting through the haze in your mind. She glanced at her phone, frowning. “It’s Wheezie. If I don’t answer, she’s gonna call like, five more times.”

She stood, her hair swaying behind her as she made her way toward the house, already pressing the phone to her ear. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

You nodded mutely, not trusting yourself to speak. The moment she disappeared inside the backyard seemed quieter somehow. All sounds around you faded into an oppressive stillness.

You focused in on the pool, trying to steady your breathing while watching the water ripple in the light breeze. Trying to remind yourself that there was nothing to worry about.

But you felt it before you saw him.

A shift in the air. A weight pressing down on your senses. The faint smell of smoke lingering even though the cigarette had been long gone.

His sudden presence made your pulse quicken, and you wondered how he’d gotten so close without you noticing. “Hey baby,” he husked, his voice soft and hurried as he glanced behind him, checking to make sure Sarah wasn’t returning.

“Rafe—” you started, your voice faltering as you looked up. But he didn’t let you finish.

He leaned down abruptly, one hand gripping the armrest of your chair, the other sliding to the back of your head in one swift, almost desperate motion. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck without hesitation, and before you could utter another word, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing into yours.

Once again, you found yourself succumbing to Rafe Cameron far too easily. The kiss was reckless, charged with the heat and tension that had been brewing between you for weeks. Rafe’s teeth teased your lips, his breath warm and beyond intoxicating.

Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. Instead, they froze, clawing at the fabric of your chair as if anchoring yourself would somehow steady the whirlwind inside you. Your heart clenched, and a shaky exhale escaped against his lips.

Your heart raced, its pounding so fierce it silenced everything else, leaving the world around you a distant blur. Guilt clawed at your mind even as your body betrayed you, leaning ever so slightly into him, just enough to feel his hard chest brushing up against your tits. Rafe groans, pulling away and looking down as they spill out from your bikini top.

He licks his lips, glancing up and shooting you a sleazy grin. He stares just long enough for the both of you to catch a single breath, before muttering two words that would echo in your mind for the next week: “Missed this.”

He kisses you again, lips and tongue all over you. Your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. They move frantically from your ear to your neck. You gasp as a new flood of emotions crashes over you, threatening to pull you under while your hands reach up to grab him. To touch him. To feel him.

“Rafe,” you whispered again, this time more of a plea.

But he’d already pulled back. His movements were measured, almost like he was savoring the moment.

His smirk lingered, curling at the corners of his lips like he knew exactly what chaos he was leaving behind. His gaze flicked to your lips one last time, a shadow of something unreadable crossing his face before he turned his head.

He glanced over his shoulder, pausing for the briefest moment as Sarah’s voice floated faintly from inside the house.

Then, with maddening composure, he straightened. Every movement exuded an infuriating sense of calm, as though nothing just happened.

With his hands slipping casually into his pockets, he turned and headed toward the docks, the sunlight catching the sharp angles of his profile before he disappeared from sight.

You were frozen in place, breath hitched in your throat. Leaning slightly forward, you were still caught in the lingering pull of where he’d held you just seconds ago. Your fingers brushed against your lips, as if needing proof that it had really happened… again.

A weight pressed against your chest, the same dangerous pull from last week, but now it hit harder. It was stronger, deeper, and even more impossible to ignore.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps jolted you back to reality. Your gaze snapped toward the house just as she stepped outside, phone in hand.

“Ugh, finally,” she groaned, dropping into her chair with a dramatic sigh. The legs scraped faintly against the concrete as she slouched back, completely unaware of the storm still raging inside you. “Wheezie wouldn’t shut up about this jacket she found on sale. I swear, I’m blocking her next time.”

She trailed off, her nose wrinkling as she sniffed the air. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the space around you, “wait. Does it smell like smoke out here?”

No.

Your body went rigid, heart slamming against your ribs like it was trying to break free. “Uh, I don’t think so?” 

Sarah turned sharply, her gaze locking onto you. “Are you sure?” she asked, leaning in closer.

The moment stretched unbearably, your pulse roaring in your ears as you forced a shrug, silently begging her not to see the guilt etched across your face.

“Well, whatever,” she said at last, leaning back in her chair with a dismissive wave. “I swear, Rafe stinks up the whole house when he smokes. So gross.”

You swallowed hard, your tongue brushing over your lips. The faint taste of smoke lingered there, branded on your skin.

You hated how much you liked it.

[madamechrissy]

✞ Forgive me For I have Sinned ✞

✞ Pairings: Priest Gojo x Fem Reader

✞ Word count - 5.7k

✞ Content/Warnings- You keep having dreams about Father Gojo, and he decides to try to save your slutty soul <3 NSFW, sacrilegious, confessional fucking, rosaries as bondage, lots of filling you w/love and light, oral (both receiving) fingering, explicit church sex, reader is a lil bimbo and innocent fr, Gojo has a HELL of a God complex (canon tbh) overall kinky asf

A/N- Booking the tix to hell-who's coming with!? I based off this drabble of mine: Priest! Gojo (you can read it first if you want!) Reader and Gojo are in their mid 20s. Enjoy!

It was hot outside, a scorching summer day, the type that made you want to jump in an icy cool lake naked, but in the sanctuary of this pristine church which is kept rather cool, you still have a drip of sweat beading down your collarbone. You’re wearing a pretty red summer dress, your little hat right next to you in the pew, as you watch him with avid attention.

Father Satoru Gojo.

The entire church is in love with him, enamored by him, there are admiring whispers even amongst the most vigilant catholics, the ones who would judge you for coming not in your Sunday best. They hid it well enough, acting as if they only cared so much because his sermons were so powerful, because he was so young and profound already.

But you know better, and they know better deep down, that Father Gojo was just gorgeous, a face chiseled to perfection, tall and broad shouldered, swoon worthy by all accounts. His husky voice and insane presence that shines brilliantly like a million diamonds certainly helps, but his face itself is so pretty it’s angelic.

When he looks at you with those brilliant blue eyes, swirling like a moody storm, all glittery behind those snowy white lashes? Well you feel…

You’re going to hell.

Last night you’d had this insane dream of him, where he has asked you to serve him on your knees, just as he would offer that eucharist and wine to you, but instead it’s his cum you’re swallowing. And you’re a good, God fearing girl, so, you certainly should not do or think of such things! And worst of all, with your priest, Father Gojo. He has vows too, yet you’d committed much sin already.

Just last night you’d awakened throbbing, having dreamt of pleasuring him, on your knees before him, and you’d been soaking wet and dripping down your shorts, even the sheet had a wet spot. You’d rubbed your swollen little clit in circles, gasping and arching your back, feeling fevered as you committed such sins, as picturing Father Gojo had you climaxing all over your own fingers.

You’d been so ashamed this morning! You’d splashed cold water on your face, staring at yourself in your mirror, shivering as the cool water dripped down your skin, knowing you should stay home, find some new church. You are full of impure thoughts and sin, and it’s all because of him, how could you confide in him that you feel this way, think this way?

What would he do if he knew? Cast you out or…

Stop it.

But as you’re crossing your legs, shifting your hips, you see Satoru Gojo’s full, pouty lips part, his eyes directly on you. You pause then, eyes wide, you must be imagining it, your sin surely is carrying over too far… but you test it, crossing your legs once more, and sure enough, his eyes follow your legs up, between your thighs, surely seeing your panties.

That gives you a fucking thrill you can’t describe, as does him licking his thumb, going to another page as he continues his sermon, women all over are fanning themselves, enamored by him. But perhaps none so much as you, picturing what’s under that cassock, under those white robes he wears, what that long, lithe body would feel like against yours.

You imagine your dream vividly later when he’s giving you the eucharist, placing the biscuit on your tongue as you hold your mouth open on your knees, then you see it, the hunger mirrored in his eyes. You tremble when he brushes a thumb over your lower lip, and your eyes drift to his lap, where you clearly see he’s hard. You gulp it down, looking up at him and taking the wine now.

Father Gojo looks down at you, white hair falling over a brow, finding your beautiful eyes are affecting him as much as your stance on your knees, his thumb finds your chin now, imagining shoving his cock between perfect lips. Surely, you are here to tempt him, to ruin him, you are sin itself, haunting his dreams, making him hard in the middle of church, right in his own service.

You look at it then, his cock under the cassock that’s becoming too tight, before licking your lip, eyes back up to his hungrily. You look like such a good girl, but your eyes tell another story, a story of wanting to get fucked hard, to be filled by him, wanting to have his cum all over your pretty face. He imagines that as the wine drips down your lips now.

Fuck he’s going to hell if he stays around you, surely even he has rules to uphold even if he certainly is God’s chosen. But… perhaps since he is God's chosen, it’s his duty to help a little sinful girl like you. And as you rise, holding his hand, and your breasts brush against his chest, you’re far too close, he vividly pictures yanking them out of that dress, tempting him to no end.

Of course you ask for confessional, and he’s dying at the thought of being so close to you, when all he thinks of is how good you look, how good you smell, and he is left to wonder, do you taste that good? Your pretty neck, your delicate collarbone, your pussy? Surely he should not think such things, but as he looks at you through the lattice of the confessional separating you both, he cannot stop his mind.

“Father Gojo… I fear my confession is most wicked.” Comes your breathy little voice, only serving to make Father Gojo’s thick length harden, picturing what your little moans must sound like when properly fucked.

“Go on, my pr- my child, you may tell me anything.” He says, coughing a bit, because he’d rather call you a pretty little slut, and he has no clue why the devil likes to try him so hard. It’s all your fault, truly. Pretty little thing.

“Okay… but…” You take a breath. “I have dreams of someone fucking me, someone I should not.” You say nervously, and watch him shift in his seat, you can smell his cologne so much in here, making you thirst more for him.

“It’s natural to have thoughts, my child.”

“No, Father Gojo… I’m playing with myself, thinking of him. Of… sucking him, or of him laying on top of me.” You hear Father Gojo making a choking sound, and you panic. “I’m so sorry! I…”

“Ahem, no, no… continue.” Father Gojo’s cock is straining, he can already feel precum sticking to his tip, picuring you touching your pussy, he bets it’s so pretty, bet it tastes so-

Sinful girl, aren’t you?

Surely that’s all this is, not… him wanting to sin! Father Satoru Gojo certainly is perfect, he’s God’s perfect creature, so if he wants this, it must be on you. Sin in a perfect little body with a perfect little face, and a voice that drives him to utter distraction. Surely, Father Gojo must try to save you.

“Father, I cannot stop thinking of him, he’s in all my dreams. What should my penance be, how many hail marys?”

Father Gojo has to stroke himself to adjust his huge, throbbing cock now, as he watches you through the lattice, biting your full lower lip, your head falling back, hair cascading. Hair he wants to pull as he fucks you from behind, making you arch your back to take more of his cock.

“I have to ask how you’re doing it… so that I can tell you your penance, so that I may try to save you.” He says, husky now, and you whimper softly, shifting on the bench, your pussy throbbing around nothing, picturing his cock filling you.

“How I do it, Father Gojo?”

“Yes, it’s… important to confess.”

“Well, I take my fingers, and I find my pussy with them, I roll them around my clit over and over, I get so wet that they slip- Father are you okay?” Satoru can’t stand it, he’s stroking his bare cock under his robes, resting his head against the wall, struggling not to cry out as he’s pumping.

“Ahem… indeed I am. So you finger your little pussy then?” At his words you’re a blushing mess, breaths coming more rapidly, your hands gripping the bench, dying for friction as you’re soaking your panties.

“Y-yes.”

“Do you slip your fingers in?”

“I… no! Um… no.”

“And you cum?”

“I… yes. I do cum. Imagining him.” You’re watching those robes rise and fall, then you know it, Father Gojo is stroking his cock right next to you.

“I see… I think I can help alleviate some of this, perhaps give you some guidance so that you do not afflict yourself so.” You want to touch yourself now, when you hear those breathy pants, your fingers clinging to the lattice.

“Yes, father, I need your guidance.” Cock, fingers, mouth… fuck you’re a full sinner, aren’t you!?

“Then come here, let us have our first attempt at saving you.”

Now you’re standing in front of him in the itty bitty room, face to face with Satoru Gojo, your Priest, and fuck if your nipples don’t tighten up, if your tummy isn’t clenching with desire. You’re nervously fiddling with your hands as he leans back, spreading his long legs as wide as they can in the tight quarters, his glittering blue eyes dilated as he licks his lips, making them glossy.

“You must show me how, and do not fret, sweet girl, it’s through god’s will of course, through me.” Father Gojo says, your breaths come faster as you slip up your sundress, and his eyes hungrily drink the sight of your bare thighs in. He leans forward, sliding those panties down, eyeing your glistening cunt now, his breath almost hitting it, making you jerk.

“Father… I cannot show you…”

“You can, I am here to help, have no fear.” He notices you’ve drenched your panties, a wet spot formed, sticky little strands of your arousal apparent as he pulls them down, hands touching the smooth skin of your thighs.

You put your hand on your pussy now, the other nervously holding up your dress, and you run your fingers in circles on your clit, crying out softly, as he lets out a low, guttural moan. You’re getting wetter as you play, as his large, sexy hands clench, the veins popping up out of the thin skin, and you’re trembling, imagining his long fingers working you instead.

Satoru is close to cumming as he watches your pretty face, your brows drawing together, your lips parted, eyes so dilated your pupils are taking over, just a thin ring of your iris left. Your lashes are lowered, and his hand stops yours now, as it’s playing with your soppy little cunt, you tremble before him.

“I see, I must help you, guide you. To get this… affliction taken care of. Yes?” You nod eagerly, then Father Gojo pulls you to his lap, and you’re straddling him, your hands sliding up to feel his strong shoulders under his robe, and he is touching your pussy instead, making you whimper. “Need me to save you, pretty little sinner?”

“Please save me. Please. Ah!” Satoru sinks two long fingers deep inside your eager little entrance, you gasp at it as he slips into your gummy walls, drippy and so tight. He’s paused, moaning and looking right into your eyes, you drown in his blue gaze, as your cunt drools down his hand. “Father Gojo… please…”

“Begging for it, are you? So tight, it’s so… have you had anything inside this perfect little pussy?” He huffs, feeling how you’re squeezing his fingers, then he hits some spot that makes you see stars, pumping up and down over and over. You cling to him, eyes fluttering shut. “Answer me, be a good girl for once, would you?”

Good girl for once.

There’s no hope for you.

“Nothing… no one… just you, Father Gojo. Mmm!” You’re covering your mouth as he keeps pumping, and he moans, dreaming of breaking you in all the ways he could, taking your innocence for himself. It’s surely what god is wanting, and who is he but god’s disciple himself? He thrusts those fingers knuckles deep, watching you fall apart over him.

“There, you’re loving this, fingers stretching your pussy, don’t you?” You nod weakly, gushing down his hand, you can hear the squishing wetness of your pussy as he now slides a thumb, rolling it over your clit.

“F-father Gojo!”

“Sinful girl.” He huffs, as you’ve buried your face against his neck, rocking against his hand, those long fingers fucking you so good it’s painful, moaning.

“Mmm! Father Gojo, I will… be good… for you…”

“Will you?” You nod weakly, as Satoru rolls your clit expertly, and you feel the pressure building, you’re panting, ready to combust. “I feel it, you’re so close, aren’t you?”

You’re nodding, hips grinding, now you’re soaking his robes, he’s picturing sliding his cock inside you, breaking you, until your sins are cleansed, and you’re picturing him taking you, defiling you in every way your hectic mind can picture. Both of you are about to cum, you’re not even touching Satoru though, you want to, fuck you want to.

“Close, m’close… p-please…” You’re begging for release, seeing stars as he works your now sloppy cunt.

“I've got you, you can let go, you're safe with me, let me see your sins so I can cleanse them.” He urges you on, bringing you higher and higher with those long, slick fingers.

“Father, it's... I'm gonna... mmm!” You're so close, soaking the sleeve of his robe now. And he's so ready to slide into your eager cunt, looking up at you behind snowy lashes.

“Show me how you sin, let me watch you cum, so I can... help you.” He whispers, and you fall apart then, pulsing around his fingers, and he groans as he watches you, pressing up so deep. You’re gushing so much arousal, he can smell your sweet scent, as you scream out into your little hand, shaking.

Satoru is now sliding his fingers out, you whine, wanting more, especially when he is sucking your juices off his fingers, making you gasp. His cheeks hollow, his eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you, your mouth drops open, breaths making you quicken, your heart pounding in your ears as you try to come down.

Your thighs are trembling over him, entire body lit up from cumming so hard, his snowy lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, before fluttering up, looking at you, your arousal coating his lips. “Oh my God.”

More sinning.

“You’re not being a very good girl.” He admonishes, but then his lips quirk up. “But, you taste too sweet to be bad. Or perhaps you yourself are sin.” Father Gojo whispers to you now, and you’re leaning closer, rolling your hips, making him groan, his hands gripping your little waist as your heat brushes against his cock. “Has it alleviated some of your… need, my child?”

He’s smirking at you, in a way no priest should! You sigh then, shaking your head. “No, Father, it’s only made it worse! You must help me more, I’m afraid now I’m thinking of sinning even more, and who I’ve been dreaming of.” You say then, it’s a whisper, as the room is hot from your breaths, smelling like sweet arousal.

Satoru blinks then, thin white brows going together, jaw clenching. “You’re thinking of fucking your own priest? That is a sin.��

“I know! It’s a terrible affliction. Oh Father, I’m going to hell.” You whisper, blinking back tears, still reeling from the aftershocks of cumming. Satoru arches his hips now, brushing his cock against your pussy, and you nearly scream out, head falling back, exposing your throat to him, and he pictures his hand wrapping a rosary around your neck, pulling tight.

You’ve dreamt of him too!? Surely this must be a sign.

A temptation.

But does he want to fight it? Your taste is all over his mouth now, as he feels your sexy little body against him, his hands brushing against your breasts, watching your nipples perk up. You look at him with intoxicated eyes, lips parted, your tiny hands clinging to his robes as you grind again, and he shudders at how fucking good it feels, your heat on him.

“I see… Well you must come to me tomorrow, and we will have to try harder, to save your soul.” He says huskily, you nod eagerly, as he helps you off him, his cock close to cumming, already twitching, he slides your soaked, ruined panties into his robes, you surely do not need them anymore.

“What if I have another dream father!”

“Do not touch yourself, I will help you when you come in, that’s so we can try to save you, yes?” You nod then, leaning close to his lips.

“Father, is it a sin to kiss your lips?”

“Not if you feel a calling, surely God wishes you to.” He murmurs, and you peck a sweet kiss on his lips, tasting yourself on him, before forcing yourself out of the cramped quarters, body on fire, leaving Satoru to finish stroking his cock, cumming as he shoves your panties against his face.

******

You’re dreaming of him again, of Father Gojo, this time his snowy white hair is brushing against your thighs, his tongue is lapping up all the dripping wetness, his big hands pressing into the plush of your thighs. You wake up throbbing, crying out, seeing how wet you are, as the ceiling fan whirls, failing to cool your overheated flesh. Father Gojo’s fingers made it worse, your affliction!

The next day you’re painfully turned on, pussy aching for more, you followed his instructions and did not touch yourself, instead you forced yourself to go back to sleep, now you’re in the nearly empty church, knocking at the door of Father Gojo’s office. You hear his deep voice speak.

“Come in.” You nervously walk in, you are wearing a shorter blue sundress today, and no panties. You know Father Gojo will see how sinful you are, but when you see his perfect face, and him wearing a thinner, lighter white robe, your pussy is already making your thighs sticky. “My child, lock that door, so we can have privacy… we would not want your confessions judged.”

“Yes, thank you Father.” You lock the door with a click, stepping to him, your heels clicking on the wooden floor of his room. He’s sitting in his chair, fingers steepled, studying your body carefully.

“Do you have any updates on your affliction, pretty girl?”

“Pretty girl…” You’re blushing worse now.

“I feel I must call you what the lord is telling me. Is that alright with you?” You nod nervously, standing before him, the desk separating you. “So how were your dreams last night?”

“They were of you again, Father Gojo. I’m so sorry!”

You cover your face in embarrassment, hearing the soft thumps of his shoes as he comes to you, taking you by your wrists, big hands enveloping the delicate wrists entirely. Your head tilts back to look at him, he’s so tall and big… you’re drinking in the sight of him, his black rosaries hanging across his broad chest.

“You must tell me these dreams, so I may help you. Perhaps they’re some sign that we must see.”

“You… you were licking me, between my thighs.” His nostrils flare slightly, those swirling blue eyes thirsty as he studies you, your thighs shift, his hands still tight on your wrists.

“Your slutty little pussy, I was licking it?” Your pussy is clenching, tummy coiling, at his nasty, sinful words, from such a pure man. You nod then. “I see, there’s no choice, we must see what enacting your dreams does. To try to save you.”

“Y-yes, father, I think so too.” You whisper, hands sliding up and down his chest, watching his Adam's apple bob under that white collar. “Does it ever get uncomfortable, Father Gojo?”

“At times. Take it off for me.” He turns and you undo the collar, when he turns back you see it, his strong neck, the muscles corded, you bite your lower lip, earning him pulling it from your teeth. “This dream, describe it, so I can help you.”

You’re a flustered mess, especially after his fingers yesterday, and all the dreams you’ve been having. You take several breaths now. “You were licking me.”

“More descriptive.” He murmurs now, sitting you up on his desk, shocking you, then he slides up your skirt and smirks, wicked priest that he is, blue eyes darting back up to yours. “No panties, your soul is so slutty.”

“I… well… Father Gojo!” Satoru’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, watching you writhe on his desk now, as he sits back in his black chair, scooting up, his breath right against you.

“You wanted this, to be bare in front of me, didn’t you pretty little sinner?”

“Y-yes, I told you, I’m going to hell, mmm!”

He’s kissing your thighs, your hands enwrap in his silky white hair now, his breaths higher and higher, eying your perfect, glistening pussy. He’s dying to feel you dripping down his tongue, dying to drink your sweet nectar flowing when he’s opening up the lips of your pussy, and you’re making those pretty sounds, you’re so pathetic already, he thinks.

“No, I will save you, don’t you believe in me, pretty? I alone speak for God, I’m the honored one.” His words along with his eyes, those glittery blue storms that see right through you, as if they know your every sin, wreck you now. He surely must be the honored one.

“You’ll save me, I know you will.” You whisper, caressing his cheek now, and he moans softly, just urging you on more.

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me, what did I do in this dream?”

“You licked me, here.” You touch your slit, and he slides his tongue up it now, making you gasp, his tongue is so hot and wet, you’re gushing just from that. Satoru moans, kissing right over your clit before swiping his tongue again. “Father!”

“Shh, lest they hear your sinful mouth.” He whispers, and you clench your teeth, nodding as you watch him, he is placing your feet on either arm of his chair. “And you did not play with yourself?”

“I swear I did not, Father Gojo! I listened. Please…” You arch your hips up, full pussy in his face, and Satoru begins to devour you now, spreading your lips and flicking his tongue on your little swollen clit over and over. You have to slap a hand over your mouth, his rosary is cool against your inner thigh as he works your pussy, just like your dream.

Satoru’s tongue is wicked, for such a holy man you think, and it does the most wicked things to you, no dream could prepare you, even his fingers had not. He sucks your clit into his hot open mouth, moaning as your juices coat his tongue, looking up at you as you cling to his hair with one hand, the other muffling your cry as you feel yourself begin to cum.

Soon you are cumming right on Father Gojo’s face, your thighs shaking on either side of his head, pussy pulsing around nothing, and he’s drinking you up, so lewd in the quiet church office. You’re jerking now, as he leans up, half his pretty face shining with your slick, making you flush at how much there was. Your hand eases down, now just gasping for breath as you look at him.

“And now, my child, how is this affliction?” He whispers, leaning up and laying atop you, pressing you into the wooden desk. You lean up, kissing him once more, earning his moan, tasting yourself all over him, he grabs you by the throat then, long fingers wrapping as he pulls back. “How hard do I have to work to save your slutty little soul, hmm?”

“I’m sorry, Father Gojo. It was so amazing… but I just want more, I fear I’m having more lustful thoughts of you now.” Your hand slides down now, cupping him where he’s thick and hard, and he squeezes your throat harder now, his thumb on your racing pulse.

“And what else is in that little brain of yours? What lewd fantasies of your priest, hmm?”

“Sucking your cock, that’s what.” He groans now, pulling you down and putting you to your knees. You look up eagerly, now Satoru is undressing, and you finally get glimpses of his body, of hard muscles and planes as he’s taking off his robes, now opening his pants for you, revealing a huge, thick cock. You gulp as you drink in the sight of it.

“And do you know what to do, how to serve me, my child?” He asks, you shake your head. “Yet you’ve dreamt it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Then it’s surely meant to be, hmm? First, slide down your top.” You do as he says, and he moans as he sits back in his chair, gripping your bare breasts. “My God,  you’re made to ruin me. Come here, open your mouth.”

You do as he says, and Father Gojo now guides you by your hair, hair he wraps around his fist, guiding you down on his cock. His curved pink tip is leaking white pearly substance, which you tongue out, earning his grown, his head falling back. You suck him eagerly, swirling your tongue, as his eyes watch you, lidded and dazed, tasting his saltiness and sweetness eagerly.

“You’re far too good at this, are you sure you haven’t been sucking cock, like a sinful brat?” You pull back with a pop, saliva dripping down your lips.

“No, I only want to serve you, Father.”

“Mmm, you’re so precious.” He whispers, before shoving your mouth back on him, and you’re bobbing up and down as he pulls your hair, using it to glide you up and down his length. Your eyes water, your nose starts running as his cock is choking you, your pussy throbbing even more. “Fuck…”

“Father, did you cuss?” You ask, pulling back, with a shy little grin, earning Father Gojo’s smirk.

“I’m allowed to, it’s all God’s words. Now are you finally satisfied, or do we need to go further? Do I need to break your pretty little pussy?” He murmurs, his words like a drug, running his thumb across your lower lip. You nod then, weakly, and his lips part, eyes studying you. “Then ask me, on your knees so pretty, like you’re praying.” He puts your hands in prayer position, blue eyes lighting up.

“Please, break me, Father Gojo.” He pulls you up now, kissing you deeply, tongues so unpracticed and messy, you’ve never really even kissed, but now you feel him, filling you once more with those two fingers as he bends low.

“Turn around and bend over, sweet sinner.” You turn, and now Father Gojo has slid your dress down, leaving you in just your heels, his big hands gliding down every line and curve of your bare body. “I said bend over.”

He smacks you sharply on your backside, making you gasp then whine out, as he presses your upper back between your shoulder blades, your face against his desk. He then takes your hands, putting them behind your back and wrapping them with his black beaded rosary. You whine out at the sensation, he pulls it so tightly it’s digging in, shoving the cross in your palms.

“Hold on to that cross while I fuck your innocent little pussy. Feel it against your skin as I do.” He says, whispering in your ear. You nod, feeling the sharp cool silver digging in, as the beads dig into your bound wrists. “Good girl, spread those thighs.”

You do as he says, and then his tip is in, stretching you, and you’re shivering, breaths coming faster and faster. Satoru shoves his cock inside you, tearing at your little barrier. You cry out at the pain, and he pauses for a moment, moaning, letting you adjust. “H-hurts…”

“Just a moment of pain to fill you with my light.” He murmurs, sinking deeper, and your walls are fluttering around his cock, earning his groan. “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Did you want me to take it, your innocence?”

“I’ve w-wanted you, so long… played with… a long ah- time.” He moans now, sliding back out and in, you’re so wet and ready the pain eases quickly, as he takes you from behind now, pulling on your neck, pressing your bound hands firmer against your back, whispering in your ear.

“You sinned so long, playing with this pussy thinking of me?” You nod weakly, hiccuping on a cry as he’s pumping now, taking you over, stretching your tight cunt out so much, your skin burns, but you crave it.

You’re going to hell, surely.

But it seems worth it to be stretched by his cock so well.

“Y-yes… a long time. S-sorry Father…”

“Just Satoru when you cum all over my cock, hmm?” You nod weakly, then he fucks you harder now, thighs smacking your skin, his pelvis smacking your now sore ass cheeks, balls smacking your clit. “Ah, and you’re close already and your first time? You were made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, yes, Satoru!” You scream out so loud he’s palming your mouth with his huge hand, taking over your face, shoving his cock in and rolling his hips, making you climax so hard you cannot see. You weakly drool out of your lips onto his hand, as he feels your velvety walls fluttering around him.

You are made for this, for his cock, to take him. Your sweet virgin pussy is getting so filled by Father Gojo’s huge cock, but you’re already taking him so well. Father Gojo knows then that your dreams and his must be for a better purpose, to fuck you and fill you with all of his light, surely. You’re taking him more and more, cumming so hard your cunt is drooling everywhere.

He lets your face go, looking at your fucked out expression, your mouth is wide open, that drool dangling out the corner, your eyes are rolled back, lashes fluttering, your ass arching up for more. You’re such a sinful creature, but he knows your innocence was made for just him, clearly. You would not have anyone else, he would surely see to it.

It’s God's calling.

You’re pounded and stuffed by his huge cock, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, ass jiggling with the force, then Satoru pulls your chin to face him, he’s so fuzzy, you keep shutting your eyes.

“Look at me, my child, now.” He whispers, and you open your eyes, staring into his weakly as his thrusts slow.

“Y-yes, Satoru…” He moans at the use of his name from your pretty lips.

“I’m saving you, through… mmm… God’s wisdom.”

“Thank you, thank you!” You’re trembling, he’s rolling his hips and that tip is dragging on your spot, you struggle to focus on his pretty face, the sun from the blinds filtering in behind his head, and then he looks like an angel. The cross is digging in so much your hand is bleeding just a bit, but you truly couldn’t care, his cock feels too good inside you.

“Do you want me to… fill you…” He’s crying out then, grabbing you so tightly you can’t breathe. “With God’s love… and light?”

“Please, fill me Father- ah!” Satoru starts pumping faster and faster, yanking on your rosary so hard it breaks as he begins to cum, the beads flinging and clattering all over the wooden floor, the cross still digging into your broken palm.

“Going to put… so much… light in you… fill you-” He moans loudly then, and you feel hot liquid pumping inside, bringing you to cum with him, as it coats your walls, hot and sticky. “Feel it? Feel me filling you with it?”

“I do! I do… Father Gojo… feel it.” You whine out, rolling your hips to milk him for every bit of his hot white ropes.

“Oh… Mmm…” He’s pumping more cum inside you now, but you’re so wet and still convulsing, so it’s dripping down his cock with your arousal. Satoru exhales, pulling out and then wiping you up, turning you gently, gulping as he kisses you once more. “You were sent here to destroy me.”

“Father, I’m afraid… I only want to do it more.” You whisper, he groans, cupping your face, as you bring up your hand to him, where the cross has left red marks on your palm, he traces it, the perfect symbol of the cross, with little blood drops streaking. You wince in pain.

“I see, it’s a sign we must continue.” He says, and you nod eagerly, as he holds your hand in his.

“We must, Father Gojo.”

*****

The next Sunday, you’re sitting in the very front for the sermon, watching as Father Gojo is licking a thumb and turning a page, his blue eyes darting to your thighs, today you’re wearing a pink summer dress. Father Gojo has stolen a pair of your panties, he thinks you don’t notice, but you do, so you decide not to wear any again, opening your legs for a moment.

Father Gojo gets a glimpse of your bare, glistening pussy right in that church, making his cock hard in front of a room full of hundreds of his followers. Luckily the brown stand in front of him covers up such evidence, as he looks over at your face when you cross your sexy legs, you smile up at him, blinking innocently.

But you’re not innocent, not anymore, are you? No, you’re the worst sinner he’s tried to save, and he thinks he’ll have to work harder to save you. And when you’re riding his cock in the confessional later that evening, and he’s biting on your breasts, you’re riding him so well, moans muffled in the tiny room, he’s not sure he can save you truly, you’re too full of sin.

Father Gojo enjoys your slutty soul and your soaking wet pussy on him far, far too much, especially filling you with his cum light.

Serving Father Gojo is perfectly fine, it's God's will after all 🙏 Nanami and Geto drabbles coming some time too <3 Reblog if you're a sinner <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60569476

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Speedrunning Marriage Fraud || Ace Trappola

You get isekai’d as the heroine in a romance novel, but instead of dreamy suitors, you’re stuck with a yandere cryptid, a billionaire with no impulse control, and a knight who thinks he's in a Shakespearean tragedy (and more).

Your solution? Commit marriage fraud with your best friend, Ace Trappola, and hope no one asks for a marriage certificate.

Series Masterlist

You should have known better than to leave your apartment. You should have listened to your instincts, that deep, primal voice that told you the outside world was a dangerous and unforgiving place. But no. You just had to touch grass.

It had all started with an innocent desire for fresh air. You had gone to the park, found a nice spot, and opened the novel that a colleague had given you—probably as a form of psychological torture disguised as a gift. From the summary alone, you knew it was going to be a lot, but you had no idea just how much your soul would suffer.

The heroine was a noble who clearly did not want to be in this story. Every single page was filled with her staring off into the void, giving half-hearted responses to the five men vying for her attention, like she was a protagonist who hadn’t realized she was in a romance novel yet.

And the love interests. Oh, the love interests.

The (Discount) Yandere Viscount (who had never heard of stealth)

His idea of "obsessively watching over the heroine" was lurking in the shadows like a particularly uncoordinated cryptid. Every single time he tried to “stalk” her, he tripped over his own sword. At one point, he dramatically whispered, “I will protect you… wait, don’t run!” before faceplanting into a bush.

2. The Childhood Acquaintance (who was delusional)

This man had spoken to the heroine exactly once when they were both six years old, but somehow convinced himself they were soulmates. He carried around the same handkerchief she had given him more than 15 years ago like it was a sacred relic and refused to take no for an answer.

3. The "Genius Strategist" Prince (who had the IQ of a raisin)

The man had already planned their wedding, their honeymoon, and the names of their three children within four minutes of meeting her. When she told him she wasn’t interested, his brain blue-screened and he simply repeated, “Ah, you’re just shy.” No, sir. She is not shy. She just isn't interested.

4. The Brooding Duke of the North (who was a caricature of a chaebol heir from a K-Drama)

He believed love could be bought. He once gifted her a solid gold chair because “only the finest furniture is worthy of your presence.” He bought an entire carnival just so she wouldn’t have to wait in line. At one point, he threw money at a random tree, and you weren’t even sure why.

5. The Drama King Knight (who needed to calm down)

He was so powerful but refused to use his strength unless it was for dramatic effect. He got scratched by a cat once and collapsed into the heroine’s arms like he had been mortally wounded. His sword had the power to split mountains, but the only time he ever drew it was to dramatically point at the moon while monologuing about destiny.

And the villainess? She wasn’t even that bad. Compared to these five disasters, she looked like a sensible person.

Somehow, despite all odds, the heroine chose Ace Trappola, her childhood friend, which you had to respect. That was the one good decision this novel made. But just when you thought there might be some semblance of satisfaction—an assassin appeared out of nowhere (sent by the villainess of course) and killed her.

That was it. That was the ending.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you weren’t sure if it was grief for the heroine, sheer frustration, or physical pain from how hard you had been laughing at this disaster of a novel. It was the most ridiculous, nonsensical, brain-cell-destroying thing you had ever read. You could feel your neurons committing arson inside your skull.

You snapped the book shut and decided that was enough stupidity for one day.

It was time to go home.

As you trudged back, your brain still processing the absolute war crime of a plot you had just read, you heard it.

A faint rumbling.

A presence.

And then—

“OUT OF THE WAY, SONNY!”

A blur of gray hair and unholy speed tore through the park, the sound of wheels screeching against pavement like a demonic banshee’s cry. You turned your head just in time to see a grandma on rollerblades, moving at a velocity no elderly person should legally be able to achieve.

For a split second, you locked eyes.

And in that moment, you knew.

You were not surviving this.

Before you could even process what was happening, she collided into you full force, sending you into a full aerial somersault before you crashed into the bushes like a ragdoll. You barely registered the thundering roar of her departure as she continued skating into the sunset, leaving you for dead.

Now, as you lay crumpled in a bush, your body feeling like it had been hit by a sentient freight train in orthopedic shoes, you had to accept the consequences of your actions. The world had punished you for your hubris.

She. Didn’t. Even. Stumble.

Your body ached, your limbs refused to move, and as darkness crept into your vision, your last conscious thought was, How is a senior citizen more sturdy than me…?

And then, everything went black.

The first thing you noticed upon waking up was the suspiciously pleasant smell. It was fresh, like lavender and high society, with a hint of expensive tea and wealth you’d never personally known.

Your groggy brain latched onto the first thought it could process:

Damn. Hospitals really upgraded their budget.

Then, half a second later, a much more terrifying realization hit you.

Oh God. The ambulance bill.

Your eyes snapped open in unfiltered financial terror, hands clutching at the sheets as you prepared to calculate your medical debt down to the last miserable cent. You were already accepting your fate as a lifelong indentured servant to the healthcare system when—

The ceiling was too ornate. The bed was too soft.

And there was a man sitting beside you, holding your hand.

Your breath caught in your throat as your vision sharpened. Red hair. Heart earring. A cocky smirk, even in his sleep.

You knew that face.

You knew that godforsaken face.

This wasn’t a hospital. This wasn’t even your world.

Somewhere in the heavens, a cosmic entity was laughing as you stared at Ace Trappola, the very same Ace Trappola from the cover of the book you were reading before you got absolutely trucked by a grandma on rollerblades.

Your will to live immediately evaporated.

This couldn’t be happening. This was not real. There was no way that the trashy dumpster fire of a novel you barely got halfway through had decided to swallow you whole and spit you out as its heroine. You were a victim of circumstance. You hadn’t even wanted to read the book. Your colleague had shoved it into your hands with a laugh, saying, “It’s so bad, you’ll love it.”

And now? Now you were going to die in it.

While you were still reeling from this existential horror, Ace stirred beside you, stretching like he’d just taken a refreshing nap instead of being complicit in your suffering.

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” he said.

You almost threw up in real time.

NO. NO, HE DID NOT JUST SKYRIM YOU.

Before you could even begin to unpack that offensive introduction, Ace leaned back in his chair, regarding you with an amused grin.

“Man, you were out for so long,” he continued, clearly enjoying himself at your expense. “We were starting to get worried.”

He paused, then snickered. “Not that I can blame you, though. You got knocked out real bad after Sir Drama decided to pick you up and carry you across a puddle—y’know, because chivalry—and then you started struggling and he, uh…” Ace coughed, failing to smother his laughter. “He might’ve… dropped you on your head.”

Your soul left your body.

The sheer force of your disgust, fury, and resignation compressed into a singularity of unparalleled despair.

You had already suffered a head injury in this world and it hadn’t even been five minutes.

Meanwhile, Ace—clearly unbothered by your silent mental breakdown—casually reached out and ruffled your hair like you were some kind of small animal.

“Try not to scare everyone like that next time, yeah?” he said, standing up with a stretch. “Anyway, I’ll let you rest. See ya, drama queen.”

And just like that, he walked out.

The door clicked shut.

And you were left alone.

You sat there for a full minute, staring at the ceiling, dead inside.

Then at the overly luxurious furniture.

Then at the mirror across the room.

You knew what you would see before you even looked.

White nightgown. Perfect noble lady bedhead. The very same reflection that haunted you from the novel’s terrible cover.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaled, and let out the most guttural, primal scream into your pillow.

This was real. This was happening.

And worst of all—

You were about to be pursued by five of the worst men to ever disgrace the literary world.

Tears pricked at your eyes.

You needed a plan.

You needed a way out.

You needed to reject them.

You needed to survive.

With renewed determination, you wiped your tears, hardened your heart, and began plotting your escape.

The moment you accepted that you were, in fact, trapped in this flaming disaster of a novel, you immediately went into damage control mode.

Step One: Gather Allies.

Your first course of action was to round up every single sane person in your immediate social circle—which, in this case, meant the heroine’s original friend group. You weren’t sure how well they’d take this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

So, within the hour, you managed to corral Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Cater, and Trey into a private room like some kind of organized intervention.

They were all staring at you expectantly.

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the sheer stupidity of what you were about to say.

“Listen,” you began, voice firm. “I need help. Serious help. I am being actively hunted by five of the worst men to ever exist, and I need to figure out how to reject them before I end up dead in an alley.”

There was a pause.

Riddle, bless his soul, was the first to react.

He patted you on the back, nodding solemnly. “Finally,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you to grow a spine. It’s about time.”

You blinked. That was the most support you had ever received in your life.

Meanwhile, Trey and Cater exchanged amused glances, Ace looked way too smug for comfort, and Deuce was already looking at Ace like he was onto something.

“You need to get rid of them?” Trey asked, as if he were merely discussing pastry ingredients.

“Yes,” you stressed. “Immediately.”

Riddle hummed in approval. “Good. Then let’s strategize.”

You, Riddle, Trey, and Cater huddled together like you were planning a war campaign.

Ace and Deuce, on the other hand, were having a separate conversation entirely.

A conversation that consisted of Deuce elbowing Ace repeatedly while Ace sat there, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

Then, with the casual arrogance of someone who absolutely had an ulterior motive, Ace stretched his arms and leaned back.

“Y’know,” he drawled, cutting into your very serious rejection plan, “we could make things way easier if you just tell ‘em you’re already taken.”

You stared at him. “Excuse me?”

Ace smirked. “You'd just need a fake lover, right?”

“…Yes?”

He shrugged. “I could do it.”

The room went silent.

Deuce’s face twisted into an undisguised scowl of "That's not what i meant." Riddle raised an eyebrow. Trey hid a knowing smile behind his hand. Cater was visibly entertained.

You, on the other hand, were experiencing about five different emotions at once.

On one hand, Ace clearly had a crush on the heroine—for you. Which meant using him for this felt slightly scummy.

On the other hand, game was game, and survival was survival.

And you were not above exploiting every advantage you could get.

“…Alright,” you agreed, shoving your morals into a dark abyss.

Ace grinned like he’d just won a bet.

Deuce looked one second away from committing homicide.

And just like that, Operation “Escape Horrible Men” was officially underway.

The first lunatic to cross your path was, tragically, the childhood acquaintance—if you could even call him that. This was a man whose entire personality was built on a single act of kindness you had allegedly performed when you were six, like some kind of feral pigeon imprinting on the first human to throw it bread.

He had the look of a man who had been living exclusively off delusions and a diet of unattainable dreams, and you could already feel your soul attempting to evacuate your body at the sight of him.

It all started when you, Ace, and Deuce were having a perfectly nice day at the market. The sun was shining, the air was crisp, and you were engaged in the kind of casual battery that only true friends participated in—swatting at each other, shoving, stealing food mid-bite, and slinging arms over shoulders like a group of rowdy idiots. It was peace. It was joy. And then he appeared.

Like a cockroach that had survived a nuclear apocalypse, he inserted himself into the conversation with an ease that defied all reason, his hand creeping onto your waist as if that was something people just did.

The audacity. The sheer gall. The unmitigated temerity.

On instinct, you physically rejected his existence. You shoved him off with enough force to make a statement, then slammed your heel down on his foot. You were not the original heroine. You did not believe in suffering in silence. You believed in equal opportunity violence.

But this man—this absolute buffoon—had the mental resilience of a particularly dense brick. He simply did not process rejection.

You walked away. He followed. Like a stray cat you accidentally fed once, he clung to your side, ignoring all signs that he was unwelcome.

You showed Deuce a cool charm for his sword; he inserted his completely unsolicited opinion.

You cracked a joke to Ace; he forced out a laugh like you had told it for his benefit.

At one point, you were fairly certain he was just mimicking your breathing patterns to convince himself you were soulmates.

Alright. You had tried being civil. Time to be petty.

You turned to Ace with the kind of dramatic flourish that only came with years of consuming terrible romance novels, throwing yourself into his arms like some damsel in distress. Ace, to his credit, took exactly one second to process before he immediately understood the assignment.

He leaned in close, breath brushing against your ear like he was whispering something scandalous, and you, in turn, made a show of gasping, clutching his shirt like he had just recited the most romantic poetry in existence.

Then he hand-fed you a pastry.

It was too much. Too intimate. Too stupidly effective. You let out a little dreamy sigh, delicately biting into the pastry like it was a love declaration and not just your breakfast. Ace, ever the performer, brushed a crumb off your lips with his thumb.

Deuce, at this point, was convulsing with laughter in the background, nearly choking on his own spit.

But the acquaintance? The parasite? The man who had lived the past decade of his life under the assumption that you were his? He was seething. His face was twisted like he had just swallowed a whole lemon rind and all.

Time to twist the knife.

You turned to Ace with the most lovestruck expression you could muster and, in a voice dripping with sugar and malice, cooed, “Darling, when are you going to propose? I simply cannot wait to be engaged to you”

Ace visibly blue-screened for a moment. You could hear the Windows error noise in real-time. But he was nothing if not quick on his feet.

In a devastating move, he took your hand in both of his, looked into your eyes like you personally invented the concept of love, and murmured, “My love, I’ve searched the entire kingdom for a ring that shines as brightly as your eyes, but nothing has been worthy of you yet.”

That was it. That was the final blow. The childhood acquaintance physically recoiled, his reality shattering like fragile glass, his world crumbling like an over-soaked sponge cake.

“You’re… dating?” he whispered, trembling, as if he was the protagonist in a tragic opera.

You and Ace turned to him in perfect synchrony, all wide eyes and lovesick smiles, and in the most disgustingly sweet voices you could manage, declared, “We’re soooo in love~”

He ran away crying.

It was magnificent. It was euphoric. You turned to watch him flee, skidding into the distance like a wounded deer, while Deuce collapsed against a stand, wheezing.

And then, just for a moment—barely a second—you caught Ace watching you, something unreadable flickering in his expression. Then he smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder like nothing had happened.

One down. Four to go.

The invitation to the ball had arrived with the pomp and circumstance of an execution notice.

You had already survived assassination attempts (by fate and by your own refusal to engage with the five unhinged men vying for your hand), but now you were being asked to waltz? Like some graceful noble lady who had spent her entire life twirling through candlelit halls and not someone whose idea of “dancing” was flailing in the kitchen at 2 AM while waiting for instant noodles to cook?

You tried to tell yourself, maybe the original heroine’s muscle memory will kick in.

It did not.

You attempted a single spin in your room and promptly tripped over the hem of your dress, landing face-first into the carpet with all the elegance of a sedated goose. The reality was undeniable—you needed help.

Unfortunately, Deuce and Riddle, your two best hopes for structured, competent lessons, were drowning in their official duties. That left you with Trey(thankfully), Cater, and Ace.

Ace. The man who claimed he could “totally waltz” but then proceeded to move like he was dodging invisible potholes. He swore he was just "freestyling," which, sure, was a thing people did—just not in 18th-century ballroom dancing.

Trey, ever the responsible elder brother figure, took pity on your plight and offered to teach you. You gratefully accepted, placing your hand in his, and the two of you began to move across the floor. Or, rather, Trey moved and you decimated his toes with every step.

Ace, watching from the sidelines, looked like he had been personally wronged by the universe.

His jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed. His grip on his drink? White-knuckled. If he had been any tenser, his soul might have ascended on the spot.

Cater, in contrast, was having the time of his life.

Sipping tea like a smug little gremlin, he watched the spectacle unfold with the kind of amusement normally reserved for reality TV drama. He did not care that Ace was clearly dying inside. In fact, it was making the tea taste better.

Meanwhile, Trey suffered.

He suffered so much.

You stepped on his foot. Again. You stepped on it without intent. Without malice. But with the weight of a hundred failed dance lessons.

“Ah, you’re getting there,” Trey said with the patience of a saint, even as he subtly tried to guide you away from his crushed toes.

Ace twitched.

The evening ended with you being marginally better at dancing and Ace looking like he had been force-fed an entire lemon tree.

The next day, you arrived at Ace’s estate with the singular goal of dragging him into town for shenanigans.

Instead, you were met at the entrance by his butler, who, with a knowing wink that immediately put you on edge, informed you that Ace was “currently practicing” and that you were "free to go in and see for yourself."

This, of course, set off all your mental alarms.

You pushed open the door just a crack, peeking inside, and what you saw nearly short-circuited your brain.

There, in the middle of the room, was Ace Trappola.

Dancing.

With a coat hanger.

He held it like a real partner, moving across the floor with surprising grace, his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips pressing into a frustrated pout whenever he missed a step.

You felt something unfamiliar rise in your chest. A warmth. A flutter. A sense of being deeply, irreversibly touched.

You immediately squashed the feeling. Crushed it under your heel like a bug. Incinerated it. You refused to let sentimentality win.

So, naturally, you cleared your throat and went straight for the teasing.

“Wow, Ace. I didn’t know you and the coat hanger were so close.”

Ace startled so hard he nearly dropped the poor inanimate object.

He turned to you, face flushing an almost adorable shade of pink, before scowling and attempting to play it cool.

“I—this—I wasn’t practicing for you or anything!” he scoffed, crossing his arms as if that would somehow erase the memory from your brain.

“Oh, of course not,” you said, nodding sagely. “You were obviously training to impress the coat hanger.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Rubbed the back of his neck. Refused to meet your eyes.

“…You wanna practice together?”

And that was how you found yourself dancing with Ace in the dim glow of the evening light, his hands warm against yours, the two of you laughing every time you stumbled.

It was awkward. It was messy. It was weirdly fun.

And somewhere in the background, Ace’s butler was already reallocating the estate’s budget for your wedding.

You had successfully survived the dance.

This was, by all accounts, a miracle.

There had been no toe-crushing disasters, no tragic falls, no wardrobe malfunctions that would have made the noble ladies clutch their pearls and whisper about you for decades. Not even a single case of you flinging your arms out too enthusiastically and smacking a duke’s son in the face.

You had defied fate.

And it definitely helped that your partner had been Ace—as much as that bruised your pride to admit. He was annoyingly decent at making sure you didn’t trip over your own feet, even though he kept smirking the entire time like he was waiting for you to say something ridiculous like "Wow, Ace, you're so talented and charming and handsome, what would I ever do without you?"

You would rather perish.

So, once the dance ended, you immediately excused yourself and found a nice, solid chair to collapse into. Ace, good little fake boyfriend that he was, offered to get you both drinks, which was a very convenient excuse for you to not be near him for five minutes.

And that was when the Genius Strategist Prince swooped in.

You did not see him approach. You did not sense his presence. It was as if he had teleported into existence like some eldritch being fueled purely by narcissism and misplaced confidence.

One moment, you were sitting peacefully, and the next—

He was there.

The cursed arm wrapped around your shoulders. The infuriating smirk. The unbearable arrogance wafting off him like overpriced cologne.

Oh, this was bad.

"You looked quite beautiful on the dance floor tonight," he murmured, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction. "Almost like a queen-to-be."

This man had the audacity—the sheer, unholy nerve—to look at you like you were supposed to giggle and blush at that line instead of chewing through your own tongue in an effort not to commit a crime.

You had one option.

You fled.

You simply stood up and walked away, directly towards the only person in this cursed ballroom who could save you from this richly perfumed disaster of a man.

Ace.

Ace, who had perfectly timed his return with two glasses of something that was hopefully strong enough to erase the last ten seconds from your memory. Ace, who took one look at your expression, saw the absolute horror trailing behind you, and immediately understood the assignment.

Without missing a beat, he wrapped an arm around you.

Possessive. Protective. The very image of a devoted fake lover.

You had never been so grateful for his dramatic streak.

The prince, who had followed you like a particularly persistent case of food poisoning, bristled.

"Remove your arm," he commanded, his voice low and sharp.

Ace did not remove his arm.

In fact, he pulled you closer, tilting his head just slightly in a way that perfectly balanced smugness and challenge.

"Why should I take my hand off my partner?" he asked.

You, who had spent your entire life developing a survival instinct specifically for escaping situations like this, felt the distant whisper of a self-preservation alarm. That was still the crown prince, after all. Ace was many things—irritating, reckless, an absolute menace—but he was not immortal.

Fortunately, before you had to say anything, help arrived.

Across the ballroom, Riddle nodded.

To your left, Deuce gave a subtle thumbs-up.

The plan was in motion.

Phase One

From the far end of the ballroom, Trey, the royal chef, emerged, balancing an enormous cake on a silver tray. It was a towering, masterful creation—a true work of art, layers stacked high, delicately sculpted sugar decorations shimmering under the chandelier light.

A cake that, in mere moments, would be used as a weapon of mass destruction.

Trey took one fateful step.

Tripped (As planned)

And the entire cake, in all its elaborate, multi-tiered glory, toppled over.

Straight. Onto. The. Prince.

Ace immediately shielded you from the debris. His hand was firm on your back as he turned you slightly away from the chaos, and when you glanced up at him, he was grinning.

Smug. Smug. Smug.

Something in your stomach did something.

You ignored it.

The prince, meanwhile, stood there in horrified silence, cake and frosting dripping down his very expensive, very now-ruined clothes.

And then came Phase Two

Deuce, moving with the "concern" of a man who absolutely knew he was about to ruin someone’s life, rushed forward.

"Your Highness," he said earnestly, holding out his own coat, "you should remove your clothes."

The entire ballroom went silent.

The prince, still picking fondant out of his hair, turned slowly.

"What?"

"You’re covered in cake," Deuce explained, voice so painfully genuine that you nearly choked.

The prince, who absolutely would rather die than undress in public, refused.

Which was unfortunate. Because Deuce, bless his heart, did not take no for an answer.

He grabbed the prince’s jacket.

And pulled.

The ballroom collectively inhaled.

Because underneath—where there should have been the broad, powerful shoulders of a “warrior prince,” where there should have been toned muscle sculpted by years of battle and strategy—

Was nothing.

Not just nothing—an outright betrayal of physics and expectation.

The prince was built like a malnourished Victorian ghost.

His coat—once the source of his so-called “strong, masculine presence”—had been heavily padded. Not just lightly stuffed, but outright engineered to create the illusion of bulging biceps and warrior-like stature.

Biceps, it was now evident, larger than his actual head.

The ballroom gasped.

The prince, red-faced and humiliated, did what any reasonable man would do when faced with public disgrace.

He ran.

You, Ace, Deuce, and your co-conspirators high-fived.

And the next morning, Cater, journalist extraordinaire, published an excruciatingly detailed article titled:

"From Brawn to Busted: The Prince’s Muscle Mirage!"

2 down. 3 to go.

It had been a regular morning. A peaceful morning. A morning where you had intended to do nothing more than descend the stairs like a normal, functioning member of society, have breakfast, and not make a complete spectacle of yourself before noon.

The universe had other plans.

One moment, you had been confidently stepping forward, and the next—

Betrayal.

Your foot had missed the step. Gravity, that treacherous, fickle force, had seized its chance. You had plummeted like a sack of potatoes launched off a moving carriage, limbs flailing, dignity abandoning ship before you even hit the floor.

And then you hit the floor.

Hard.

Ace, your beloved thorn in the side, had stood over you, blinking, until you groaned and weakly waved a hand to signal that you were probably not dead.

And that was when he had completely lost it.

He had laughed for ten minutes straight. A full, wheezing, tears-in-his-eyes, struggling-to-breathe kind of laugh, slapping his knee like an old man who just heard the funniest joke of his life. The servants had peered around corners in confusion. One poor maid had whispered, "Should we call a doctor?" Not for you. For Ace, because he was about to rupture a lung.

"You're fine," he gasped out eventually, still giggling like a goblin. "It's just a sprain, right? But your ego— oh, your ego is never coming back from this one."

And that was how you had ended up here.

Ace had decided—without your input, without even a semblance of human decency— that you were now a particularly large handbag.

He carried you everywhere.

There was no logical reason for this. You could still walk. You had one (1) slightly messed-up ankle, you were fine. But Ace, seeing the opportunity to be the worst person alive, had simply hoisted you up like a particularly unruly sack of flour and declared, "Guess you're stuck with me, huh?"

And he had not put you down since.

Which led to your current predicament.

You had planned to meet Riddle, Trey, and Cater for tea in the gardens, because you were a person of class and refinement, not some gremlin carried around like stolen treasure. But did that stop Ace? No. Of course not.

The three of them had been waiting peacefully in the garden, cups of tea in hand, enjoying their serene afternoon—

And then Ace had strolled in, with you draped over his shoulder like a particularly expensive piece of luggage.

Silence.

The kind of silence that one might expect after watching a clown cartwheel directly into the king’s court.

Trey looked concerned. Riddle looked like he was going to spontaneously combust. Cater, to absolutely no one’s surprise, looked entertained.

And you? You had given up.

"You could just let me down, you know," you muttered, swatting at Ace’s shoulder in what you hoped was a dignified manner, though it probably looked more like a dying fish flopping around.

Ace grinned, because of course he did. "Nah. Too late. You’re furniture now."

You scowled. "Then put me near the table so I can actually reach my tea, you absolute menace—"

Ace ignored you completely.

He dropped into a chair, still holding you.

This was your life now.

Trey, who had likely woken up hoping for a quiet afternoon, cleared his throat and asked, very diplomatically, "So… sprained ankle?"

"Tragic accident," Ace said, like he was recounting the tale of a fallen soldier. "There I was, just minding my own business, when—boom. Disaster. Absolute catastrophe. They will sing songs about this one for years."

"You were laughing," you deadpanned.

"And now I'm grieving," Ace shot back.

Riddle, who had quite frankly had enough of both of you, massaged his temples.

Meanwhile, Cater, who had pulled out his camera at some point, was taking photos.

"This is gold," he muttered, already plotting his gossip column.

And then, just as you were mid-swat, trying to smack the smirk off Ace’s face while he cackled like a heathen, Riddle sighed under his breath, voice heavy with exhaustion and despair.

"They're so obvious," he muttered. "Sevens save us all."

Trey nodded solemnly. Cater just grinned.

It had been a perfectly normal day.

Which, of course, meant disaster was imminent.

You were standing in the grand hall, sipping a totally normal, non-poisoned cup of tea (probably), when you felt it. That eerie, spine-chilling sensation. The distinct, unsettling awareness that you were being watched.

Slowly, you turned your head.

A pair of glowing eyes peered at you from behind an indoor potted plant.

You sighed. Loudly. "Viscount, I can see you."

"Tch," the Viscount hissed, stepping out of his entirely inadequate hiding spot. "So perceptive… as expected of my fated beloved."

As if to ruin the illusion entirely, he tripped on his own cape and had to grab onto the plant for support. The entire thing tipped over with a thunderous CRASH.

Silence.

A servant slowly turned to look at him, unblinking.

The Viscount, sprawled across the floor, cleared his throat. "Pretend you did not see that."

You rubbed your temples. "What do you want?"

He rose to his feet dramatically—or at least, he tried. His foot got tangled in his cape again, and he had to do an awkward little hop to untangle himself before he could finally regain his dignity (what little he had left).

"I have come to confess," he intoned, "the depths of my undying love for you."

A dramatic wind blew through the hall. (Despite the fact that all the windows were closed.)

You braced yourself. This was going to be painful.

"From the moment I first laid eyes upon you," the Viscount continued, stepping forward (but nearly tripping over a rug). "I knew that you and I were bound by fate."

He gripped his chest. "Your beauty, your grace, your ability to evade me every time I attempt to watch over you from the shadows… truly, you are like a rare and precious bird, always just out of reach!"

"You mean because I run away every time you try to talk to me?" you deadpanned.

"Exactly!" he said, passionately. "Such a clever game of cat and mouse we play!"

You stared at him. He stared back, completely serious.

Cater was, once again, taking pictures of this entire trainwreck. Deuce had just pulled out a chair, grabbed a snack, and was watching like it was a soap opera.

"But no more!" the Viscount declared. "Today, I shall break this cycle and claim my rightful place at your side!"

He took a bold step forward—

—and promptly slipped on the fallen leaves from the potted plant.

There was a moment of absolute silence.

Then—THUMP.

He faceplanted straight into the marble floor.

Cater wheezed. Deuce actually fell out of his chair. Riddle was muttering something about public executions. Trey looked like he was reconsidering his entire life.

But the Viscount?

He slowly pushed himself up, nose bleeding, expression unfazed.

"A minor setback," he rasped, wiping the blood off his face with his own cape like some kind of tragic war hero. "Love… is pain."

You exhaled deeply. "Alright, you know what?" You straightened your posture, voice heavy with overwhelming sorrow. "My dear Viscount… if only you had come to me sooner."

His breath hitched. "You mean—?"

"If only fate were kinder," you continued, placing a hand on your chest. "If only my heart were not already…taken."

Fake gasps echoed through the hall.

The Viscount staggered. "No… it cannot be!"

"I am afraid so," you whispered. "For I… I have already pledged my love to…"

You spun dramatically—and pointed straight at Ace.

Ace, who immediately choked on his drink.

Ace, who had agreed to fake date you but was now staring at you like you had just struck him with a bolt of divine judgment.

Cater’s camera zoomed in on his expression.

You turned dramatically, seizing Ace’s arm with a grip that could bend steel. "My darling fiancé, my heart, my sun and stars!" you declared, throwing yourself against him like a maiden in distress. "Forgive me for not introducing you sooner—this is my betrothed, Ace Trappola!"

Ace made a sound like a cat getting drop-kicked across a room.

"WHAT."

The Viscount looked like someone had just run him through with a broadsword.

"I know," you said, voice trembling with unspeakable woe. "It seems impossible. Unthinkable. But love, my dear Viscount, is a force beyond comprehension. Who are we to fight against fate?"

Ace was still making distressed noises. Riddle looked like he was five seconds away from committing homicide.

"No—no, this cannot be!" The Viscount staggered back, clutching his chest like he had just been mortally wounded. "You would choose him over me?"

You gripped Ace’s collar, pulling him until your foreheads nearly touched. "How could I not?" you whispered. "Look at him. Look at his—his, um. His face!"

Ace mouthed: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?

"His personality!" you continued, wildly grasping for reasons. "His—his unparalleled ability to be so Ace-like at all times!"

"I hate every single word coming out of your mouth," Ace muttered.

"And most of all," you gasped, voice hushed. "The way he carries me when I sprain my ankle. A true gentleman. A man among men."

The grand hall erupted into chaos.

Ace visibly short-circuited. "I— WHAT??"

Cater's hands visibly shook as he tried to keep taking pictures. Deuce had fully dropped his snack. The Viscount let out a dramatic, heartbroken wail.

"Engaged?!" the Viscount gasped. "But how? When?!"

You clutched Ace’s hand tighter. "Last night."

"LAST NIGHT??" Ace screeched.

You shot him a look. Ace, whose entire face was on fire, gulped and quickly switched tactics.

"Aha… aha… yeah, totally!" He threw an arm around your shoulders, grinning through his existential crisis. "We got engaged last night! Super romantic and all that! Just me and my beloved—" his voice cracked, "—who I love so much!"

You patted his chest reassuringly. "See? True love."

The Viscount staggered back. His entire world was shattering. The intensity of his emotional turmoil was so strong that he tripped over his own cape again and went tumbling down the nearby staircase.

It took twenty entire seconds for him to hit the bottom.

More silence.

Then, from below: "Love… is pain…"

Ace, still holding you, whispered, "What did you just do to me?"

You turned, smiling sweetly. "I just made you my fiancé, Ace."

Ace felt faint. His heart had been going a normal amount of fast when he agreed to fake date you, but this? This was illegal.

Meanwhile, Cater was already writing the next article.

The night had started so normally. Just you, your expensive, holy-grail skincare routine, and the unwavering determination to emerge from this ritual looking like a Renaissance painting come to life. You had your headband on, your fluffy robe wrapped around you, and the greenish-white sludge of your face mask setting into a crusty layer of beauty and self-care.

Then Ace Trappola happened.

He kicked the door open like he was the protagonist of a spaghetti western, took one look at you, and lost his entire mind.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" he gasped, immediately doubling over in laughter. "Oh my god, you look like a haunted doll."

You did not hesitate. You lunged at him like an apex predator.

And despite all his athleticism and street-rat reflexes, Ace had not been prepared for an attack from a fully masked-up, vengeance-driven individual armed with a whole tub of premium skincare.

"WAIT—NO—"

It was too late.

You straddled his lap, pressed his shoulders down onto your bed, and slathered the mask onto his stupid, laughing face with all the delicacy of an artist painting their magnum opus.

"See?" you said sweetly, coating his nose with a dramatic flourish. "Now we’re both glowing."

Ace wanted to talk back— wanted to make a joke, to tell you off, to do anything but sit here like a dumb, frozen idiot while you cupped his face, held his chin so gently, and smoothed the mask over his cheekbones like he was something precious and breakable.

And he was losing it.

Your legs were slung over his lap. His back was against your bed. Your hand was on his jaw, tilting his face however you wanted. And Ace, the very same Ace who laughed at every romantic in the kingdom for being cringe and stupid, was about two seconds away from throwing his dignity out the window and leaning into your touch.

Because all he could see, smell, and feel was you.

Your voice kept going, rambling about something stupid and inconsequential—some royal drama, a new gossip column, your thoughts on different brands of facial cleanser—but Ace couldn’t process a single word because his entire stupid, traitorous heart was screaming at him to just—just—

The revelation slammed into him like a meteor. A deadly, world-ending, history-changing impact that reduced his brain cells to rubble and left behind only the smoking wreckage of a man who was well and truly screwed.

This was not a platonic feeling.

This was the opposite of a platonic feeling.

And yet, instead of saying anything, instead of introspecting like a sane person, he just let you keep talking, let himself bask in the feeling of your fingers on his face, let himself sink into the sheer stupidity of his predicament.

By the time he could regain enough motor function to think about moving, it was too late.

You had both somehow, inexplicably, fallen asleep.

The morning arrived with the unmistakable sound of high-pitched giggles.

You cracked open a single bleary eye, your body heavy with sleep, and—oh.

Oh no.

Ace was snuggled up against your arm, his face relaxed in a way you had never seen before. His usual cocky smirk was nowhere to be found, replaced by something painfully soft and vulnerable.

His hair was a mess, sticking up in ridiculous angles, but somehow, it made him look even cuter. His cheek was squished against your shoulder, his arms curled slightly around yours, one leg lazily slung over yours like he had every right to use you as a makeshift pillow.

And the worst part?

It wasn’t even weird.

It felt… right.

And that was when it hit you.

Like a meteor. Like an act of god. Like the universe itself had conspired to wait until you were at your most defenseless before smacking you in the face with one singular, undeniable truth.

You were in love with Ace Trappola.

You. Loved. Ace.

How unfortunate.

You had half a mind to violently shake him awake, make him take responsibility for making you feel this way—but then he muttered something in his sleep, something unintelligible, and shifted closer, pressing his nose against your arm.

You stopped breathing.

The maids were still standing at the door, watching, waiting for you to react.

You slowly raised a hand.

And, with the elegance of a queen issuing a decree, you waved them away.

Five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

The Duke of the North was an annual disaster. Like a migrating bird that exclusively flew south to be annoying, he only visited the capital once a year—and every single time, it was to do one thing: propose to you.

This would have been flattering, except for the fact that you had been rejecting him since the dawn of time. Yet, for some reason, he was deeply convinced that, one day, you would simply change your mind upon seeing him standing there, brooding dramatically in his tailored, imported-from-a-country-that-doesn’t-even-exist coats.

He did not take rejection well.

Of course, you never answered his letters. Why would you? His correspondence was a tragic novel in real-time, each letter trying and failing to sound aloof, with absolutely zero success.

"I suppose you are busy, as I am also very busy, thinking about extremely important things, such as war and finance and not at all about why you have not replied to me in the last six months." "Should you choose to acknowledge my existence, I will, of course, consider taking time out of my incredibly packed schedule to respond (though I have already cleared next Tuesday for you, just in case)." "It is of no consequence to me whether you reply. However, I have sent my fastest courier, so you may want to respond before he breaks his legs trying to reach me before nightfall."

Pathetic.

And now, as expected, here he was again.

And as always, he came prepared.

This time, he had doubled down on his "love can be bought" philosophy.

A solid gold chair—because “only the finest furniture is worthy of your presence.”

An entirely new breed of horse, bred specifically for you, because "standard horses are beneath you."

A fleet of ships. Why? No one knew. You were not a sailor. You had never even been on a boat.

Riddle, who had been an unfortunate witness to this entire spectacle, had been slowly turning redder and redder, not out of anger, but out of sheer secondhand embarrassment. He looked like he was debating whether to intervene or let natural selection take its course.

Meanwhile, the villainess, who had been throwing you dirty looks since the Duke’s arrival, stood nearby. It didn’t take long for you to realize why—she liked him. She wanted him.

You turned to face her. Slowly. Deliberately.

Your expression said: “Lady, I don’t even want him.”

Her expression said: “You lying harlot.”

And before you could even think of clarifying that you had no interest in this walking gold reserve, the situation somehow got worse.

Ace appeared out of nowhere, grabbed your hand, and, with the audacity of a man who had never once in his life considered the consequences of his actions, declared with full confidence:

"Oh, sorry, we already got married."

Riddle choked on air.

The Duke froze, mid-proposal, like a glitching NPC in a poorly coded game. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, as if he were about to say something but his brain was actively refusing to process the information.

"You," he said hoarsely, like someone had just stabbed him in the chest. "What?"

You nodded solemnly, forcing yourself to look as heartbreakingly sincere as possible. "We even have a dog," you said.

Ace, who had waited his entire life for a bit like this, effortlessly raised the stakes.

"Two dogs," he added, gripping your hand even tighter.

You smiled sweetly, as if recounting precious memories of a long and happy marriage. "Three, actually."

The Duke’s breathing audibly shortened.

Riddle buried his face in his hands and muttered, “Oh my god, make it stop.”

"WHAT?!"

Ace sighed, the weariness of a devoted husband weighing down on him. "We also have six kids."

The Duke, who had already been dangerously close to a stroke, seemed to visibly glitch.

"SIX?! BUT IT HASN’T EVEN BEEN A YEAR!"

Ace, seeing an opportunity and deciding to go all in, dramatically gestured at a group of stray cats on the street.

"There they are," he said, with the utmost conviction.

The Duke followed his gaze, slowly, hesitantly, as if he already knew he was about to regret it.

There, on the sidewalk, were six very dirty, very chaotic stray cats.

One of them, making full eye contact with him, immediately started hacking up a hairball. Another was biting its own tail, because it had seemingly forgotten that it was attached to its body. A third was somehow climbing a wall upside down, defying both gravity and logic.

The Duke completely lost his mind.

"YOU—YOU HAVE—YOU’VE BIRTHED FELINE OFFSPRING?!"

Riddle made a strangled noise. His entire body convulsed with the effort of holding back laughter.

Ace did not hesitate. "Yeah, we just love them so much," he said, as if this were a completely normal and factual statement. "Fatherhood changes a man, y’know?"

"Don't forget our youngest," you added helpfully, pointing at a cat stuck in a flower pot.

Ace wiped an imaginary tear. "That's little Gregory. He's the smart one."

At this point, Riddle was not even trying to stop laughing anymore. He had completely given up, his usual decorum shattered beyond repair.

The Duke, however, looked like he was experiencing all five stages of grief simultaneously. His face twisted into pure devastation. He opened his mouth to say something, then immediately closed it, shaking his head in silent agony.

And then, without another word—he left.

Ace, smug beyond words, turned to you, grinning. "That went well."

Riddle, who had just witnessed a full-scale psychological takedown using nothing but sheer absurdity, wiped a tear from his eye. "You two are insane," he muttered, shaking his head.

Ace didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the evening.

Ace doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

He’s always liked you. A little.

A manageable amount. A totally ignorable amount. The kind of dumb little crush that normal people have. The kind you lock in a box, throw into the ocean, and then blow up the ocean for good measure.

But then you woke up from your fainting accident and became his worst nightmare.

Because somehow, in that brief unconscious state, you became ten times more interesting. More chaotic. More fun.

You met his sarcasm with even faster comebacks. You encouraged his bad ideas. You had absolutely no self-preservation. You went from exasperatedly tolerating his nonsense to actively participating in it, and it was the worst thing you could have possibly done to him.

Because now?

Now he’s the one barely keeping up.

You match him perfectly—step for step, disaster for disaster. If he’s instigating, you’re escalating. If he cracks a joke, you one-up him. When he nudges you in the ribs, you shove him into a bush.

And when you grab his arm, lean in close, and whisper, "Hey, let’s cause some problems," his brain just shuts the hell down.

He’s so ruined.

And the thing is?

Ace has done this to himself.

Because when he suggested pretending to be your lover, he genuinely thought it was a great idea. A genius plan, even.

He’d fake it, get it out of his system, and then tragically move on once you found someone else.

Except now he’s holding your hand in public.

Now he’s whispering in your ear just to make you laugh.

Now he’s calling you ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ and ‘my love’—and you play along like it’s a game, and every time, his heart detonates like an unstable potion.

At this point, if you actually fell for someone else?

Ace thinks he might literally die.

No, really. He would simply perish. Collapse. Expire. He would crumple to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been violently severed and haunt the castle as the world’s most bitter, lovesick ghost.

Cupid was somewhere, rolling on the floor, wheezing.

The other day, you smiled at him for too long, and he forgot how to walk and almost tripped.

You called him ‘Acey’ once, and he almost bit through his own tongue.

One time, you said, "I feel safest when I’m with you," and he blacked out for a full thirty seconds.

You took a sip from his drink the other day, and he had to go lie down.

And now you’re standing beside him at some stupid jewelry stall, pointing at a necklace with that gleam in your eyes, and Ace is staring at you like an absolute idiot.

He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look under the market lights.

How he’d buy you every single piece of jewelry in the damn kingdom if you asked.

How his entire soul is in shambles because he’s standing next to you thinking, "Oh no. I actually, genuinely, idiotically am in love."

Ace Trappola, Ace ‘Fake-Dating-Was-A-Good-Idea’ Trappola, is staring at you thinking:

"Oh, Trappola. You absolute dumbass. You’re in love."

And then you turn to him, all bright-eyed and smiling, and ask, "Ace, do you think this would suit me?"

And he almost chokes on his own tongue.

Because yes.

Yes, it would suit you.

So would every other necklace in existence. So would a crown. So would the title of Supreme Ruler of the Universe, if he could somehow get that for you.

But instead of saying that, he just shoves his hands in his pockets, tries to look normal, and mutters, "Yeah, yeah, whatever. If you like it, just get it already."

And you laugh.

And Ace Trappola is never going to recover from this.

The worst of the lot finally appears.

You had dealt with the Brooding Duke who thought love could be purchased, endured the Prince who wept into his lace handkerchief at every rejection, and even managed to shake off the Yandere who believed true love was an elaborate chess game. But nothing—nothing—could have prepared you for the Drama King Knight.

He stood before you in the garden, his impractically long cape billowing in the completely windless afternoon, because he had, no doubt, hired a peasant to stand just off-camera fanning him.

His sword—which was capable of splitting mountains but had only ever been used to dramatically point at celestial bodies—glinted in the sun. He looked at you with eyes that had definitely rehearsed this exact expression in the mirror for three hours.

"Fairest of all," he said, already halfway through a monologue you did not want to hear. "I have braved the perils of—"

You sighed dramatically, cutting him off. "A single brush of your hand might shatter my frail mortal bones."

The Knight visibly trembled. His gauntleted hand hovered in the air like he was about to faint. "You’re right… I must protect you. From myself."

Riddle, standing beside you, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes. Do that. From very, very far away."

And for a moment, it seemed like that would be enough. The Knight turned away, his cape swishing dramatically. You could practically hear the imaginary background music swelling, the curtains closing, the credits rolling.

Then he whirled back around. God, why do they always whirl back around?

"But if I cannot be with you in body," he declared, voice shaking with raw emotion, "then I shall remain by your side in spirit. Our souls, forever entwined. Our hearts, eternally wed!"

You blinked. "What."

"Yes!" He threw an arm toward the heavens, pointing at the sun like he was about to challenge it to a duel. "We shall be together in spirit! No matter where you go, I shall always be watching! Always waiting! Like the moon follows the tide, I shall—"

Alright. You had tried to reject him normally. You had been reasonable. But clearly, reason had no place here.

Riddle sighed. "Do whatever you're about to do. Just… make it quick."

You nodded grimly. If this was how it had to be, then so be it.

You squared your shoulders, took a deep breath, and clutched your chest like a woman stricken with a terrible, unknowable curse.

"No," you whispered. "You don’t understand."

The Knight faltered. "Understand… what?"

You threw an arm over your eyes. "I am cursed! Any man who loves me shall be turned into a… a… a goose."

Silence.

The Knight blinked at you. He opened his mouth. Closed it. His sword, which had been dramatically trembling in his grip, clattered to the ground.

"A… a goose?" he repeated.

You solemnly nodded.

And then, as prearranged, Deuce rushed off to fetch the goose.

The Knight looked between you and Deuce’s retreating figure, his expression one of dawning horror, like a man realizing he had proposed to a person who was actually an eldritch horror in disguise.

Deuce returned, struggling slightly because the goose had absolutely no interest in being part of this nonsense.

But this was not just any goose. This was the Emergency Goose.

Ace, hiding behind a tree like the gremlin he was, gave you a solemn nod.

Deuce carefully lifted the goose, revealing the final touch—the little red heart painted onto its cheek.

Riddle rubbed his temples. "I hate that you were prepared for this."

"This," you declared gravely, "is Ace."

The Knight reeled. "No. That… That cannot be!"

The goose honked.

"Yes," you continued, "he loved me once. And this was his fate."

A perfect beat of silence.

And then, from behind the tree, Ace whimpered, "Save me."

The Knight—a man who had once stood before a charging wyvern and laughed in the face of death—let out a shriek so bloodcurdling it startled every bird within a five-mile radius.

And then, cape billowing, he turned and ran.

Not a noble retreat. Not a dignified exit. No. Full-speed sprint. He shoved a confused maid out of the way. He leapt over a market stall. A small child pointed and laughed as he fled, but the Knight did not slow down, because his heart—once so full of love and poetry—was now full of terror.

Terror of you.

Terror of your goose.

Terror of the idea that at any moment, he too might sprout feathers and begin honking at the moon.

You, Ace, Deuce, Riddle, and the goose watched him vanish into the horizon.

A long silence followed.

Deuce set the goose down. The goose, finally free from its obligations, pecked him on the shin and waddled off.

Ace emerged from behind the tree, cackling. "Did you see his face?! Bro really thought I turned into a goose!"

Riddle sighed the sigh of a man who was simply too tired for this nonsense. "You two are the worst people I have ever met."

"You love us," you said.

"I do not."

Ace slung an arm over your shoulder. "You totally do."

Riddle turned on his heel and stormed off in the opposite direction.

But you saw it. You absolutely saw it.

A single, fleeting twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

Freedom. Sweet, unshackled, unburdened freedom.

No more men in capes dramatically reciting poetry at you. No more gold furniture being delivered to your doorstep. No more wild-eyed knights trying to prove their devotion by fighting literal bears in your honor. No more deranged suitors appearing at your window like particularly uncoordinated bats.

You were free.

And yet—

As you stood in the gardens, bathed in the golden glow of your well-earned peace, you felt… unsettled. Uneasy. Almost—upset.

Which made no sense. You had spent months rejecting these lunatics. You had faked engagements, lied through your teeth, orchestrated elaborate hoaxes, and weaponized a goose. You had done everything in your power to be rid of them, and it worked.

So why, in the face of your glorious victory, did you feel like you'd lost something?

And then, like a lightning bolt to the brain, it hit you.

Ace.

This meant no more holding hands in public to “convince” people. No more cheek kisses for the sake of believability. No more stupid, infuriating, wonderful Ace, grinning at you like you hung the damn moon.

It was over. Your fake dating/marriage/engagement (depending on the day and the level of your theatrics) had served its purpose.

And now it was gone.

The realization hit like a carriage crash.

You were an idiot. A complete, utter idiot.

Because somewhere between the first fake kiss in front of a suitor, the first time he laced his fingers through yours, the first time he winked at you like you were his favorite person in the entire world, you had fallen for him.

And now, standing in the wreckage of your successful campaign of repelling suitors, you realized that it was either confess right now… or take this to your grave.

Your horribly embarrassing, entirely unavoidable, painfully obvious feelings for Ace Trappola.

Ace is happy for you. He really, really is.

You’re finally free. No more unhinged declarations of love from men who have the self-preservation instincts of a lemming. No more dodging elaborate marriage proposals like a rogue in a dungeon raid. No more looking over your shoulder, expecting some cape-wearing lunatic to be reciting poetry in your honor.

Most of them think you’re taken. One thinks you’re cursed.

It worked. You’re safe. You’re free.

So why does Ace feel like he’s the one who lost?

He was kind of hoping it would take longer. Just a little bit. A few more weeks, maybe. Another month, if he was lucky. Because every day you had to pretend to be his meant another day you were in his arms. Another day he got to hold your hand in public and call it necessity. Another day he could press a kiss to your cheek without consequences. Another day of you being his.

And now? Now it was over.

And he doesn’t know how to go back.

How is he supposed to just… be your best friend Ace again? How is he supposed to look at you and not wonder what it could’ve been? How is he supposed to stand beside you like nothing has changed when everything has changed for him?

Because now, every time he looks at you, he just wants to grab you and kiss you until you’re the only thing he can taste. He wants to pull you close, whisper all the things he never let himself say. He wants everything.

But most of all, he knows—knows deep in his bones—that if you ever fall for someone else, it will destroy him.

He has to confess right now or take it to his grave.

You’re running like a madman. Like some kind of deranged romantic heroine who’s just realized she’s been in love with her childhood friend all along. Your dress is catching on every stray branch, your hair’s a mess, and you probably look like you’ve barely survived a war. But none of that matters.

Because Ace is running too.

You see him, just as wrecked as you, his coat unevenly buttoned, his hair windswept, his face flushed and frantic like he’s been sprinting for miles. And maybe he has. Maybe you both have—metaphorically and literally.

You skid to a stop, panting, staring at each other like two idiots who have finally realized the answer to a question they should’ve known all along. Ace looks at you, his breath shuddering, his eyes wide and teary like he can’t believe you’re actually here. And maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that you’re both half out of your minds with feelings, but you throw caution to the wind.

You’ve survived up till now on sheer audacity. Maybe it can take you further.

So you kiss him.

And for a second, there’s nothing. Just the stunned stillness of the world as you close the distance, pressing your lips to his.

And then he’s grabbing you, pulling you in like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His hands are tangled in your clothes, your hair, desperate, shaking, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through touch alone. He kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment forever, like he’s terrified it’s all a dream and any second now, he’ll wake up.

You pull away for air—and he chases after your lips, stealing another kiss before you can even take a full breath.

This one is deeper, slower, but just as desperate. It’s like he’s pouring everything he’s ever felt into you, like he’s afraid to stop, like he’s trying to tell you everything he never could with words. And you get it—because you feel the same way.

When he finally pulls back, breathless and shaking with emotion, you press one more soft kiss against his lips, and then you say it.

“I love you.”

Ace lets out a watery laugh, his forehead dropping against yours as he grins like a fool. His eyes are shining, and he cups your face like he can’t believe you’re real.

“What took you so long?”

And then he kisses you again.

The morning after your dramatic, borderline cinematic love confession, you and Ace walk into the usual meeting spot grinning like absolute fools.

You’re both trying to act normal, like the world hasn’t completely shifted on its axis, like Ace hadn’t kissed you breathless under the stars, like you hadn’t confessed to each other in a moment so romantic it could’ve been a grand finale scene in a novel. But normalcy is impossible because the second you walk in, hand-in-hand, everyone immediately knows.

Riddle, the most composed of the group, simply pinches the bridge of his nose, exhales sharply, and mutters, “Great Sevens, finally.” His tone is not congratulatory—it is the tone of a man who has suffered for far too long, who has borne witness to the sheer idiocy of your mutual pining and is just relieved that he no longer has to endure it.

Trey, ever the calm and collected one, gives you a small, knowing smile and nods. “Congrats,” he says simply, because Trey has probably seen this coming since the very beginning. He is the type of man who could predict the weather based on the way the wind blows and has likely bet money on this exact outcome.

Cater, on the other hand, reacts as expected.

“LET’S GO, MY MAN!” he hoots, high-fiving Ace so hard that Ace actually staggers backward. “Finally out of the friendzone, huh? This is a historic moment. A certified win.” He’s already pulling out his camera, preparing to document this for the masses, and you barely manage to swat it away in time.

And then there’s Deuce. Sweet, exhausted Deuce.

He doesn’t cheer, or exclaim, or even try to congratulate you. No, Deuce just sits there, staring at the both of you like he’s just been freed from an unspeakable burden. Like he’s been carrying the weight of Ace’s obliviousness and denial on his shoulders for so long that he no longer knows what to do with himself now that it’s over.

“I don’t have to hear him deny his feelings anymore,” Deuce whispers, voice thick with emotion. “I’m free.”

Ace shoves him.

And as your friends start heckling you, teasing you, yelling at you to get a room, you turn to Ace, grinning at him as he grins right back.

And in that moment, you can’t help but think back to the mysterious, rollerblading grandma who is the reason you even ended up here. The woman who defied all logic and physics, who sent you hurtling into this world with nothing but sheer willpower and questionable urban transportation.

You close your eyes, sending a silent thanks to her.

She was a real one.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── highlighter? what's that?

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: very much inspired by the video hyun did with risabae <3 very self indulgent; hyun's a cutiepie and i wanna squish his cheeks. i hope you enjoy!! <3

“Baby, what is this?”

Hyunjin looks up from his phone in wonder, raising both eyebrows as you thrust a pink, round, and strange-looking sponge in his face.

He pauses, gaze finding yours, scoffing as your smile widens.

“A beauty blender. How stupid do you think I am?”

You can't help but laugh, putting the item away to cradle his face and place a soft kiss on his forehead. “Stupid isn't a word I actively associate with you, my love.”

You can feel him melt at your words, and as he leans into the touch to capture your lips, you pull back to get another product, as committed to the bit as one could be.

“What about this?”

Hyunjin is confused, a pout settling over his pillowy lips. He studies the pencil in your hand, stopping at the blunt tip that can barely tell him what color it's supposed to be anymore.

“Is this one of my drawing pencils? But I don't remember owning such a shade.” He takes it from your hand to have a closer look, studying it curiously. “A crayon?”

“A crayon, baby?”

He nods, smiling brightly. “I didn't know you got back into coloring! I'm so glad!”

He's too cute to disagree with, so your only response is a smile full of fondness as you turn away from him once again, setting the lip liner aside.

“What are you doing?”

“I saw this on tiktok.” Hyunjin groans loudly, letting his head fall back against the couch in the most dramatic manner he could muster. “It’s looked like so much fun! All you have to do is name these products you've seen me use hundreds of times.”

Your boyfriend shakes his head, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. “Nothing from that app can be fun.”

“So, you're not having fun?” You pout, trying to meet his eyes and weaken his defences.

Silence greets your question for a few heartbeats which aids you in hearing the gears in Hyunjin’s head working overtime, pondering over his next words.

Eventually, he sighs and grumbles under his breath. “I didn't say that...”

When Hyunjin returns to sitting properly, you hold up a familiar product he is bound to guess even with his eyes closed.

“That's lipstick. Your favorite one. You love peppering kisses all over my face while wearing it just so it would stain my skin.”

Your grin is so wide that your cheeks start to hurt, happiness contagious as it pulls the same smile from your previously grumpy boyfriend. “Great job, baby!” You clap, reaching out to run your hand through his short hair, the texture that has him resembling a hedgehog pleasant on your skin. As expected, he leans into your touch once again, like a moth drawn to a flame, or a cat craving affection after a whole day spent apart. At this point, you’re sure he’s not even aware of how often he does it.

“I got it right.” He mumbles, grabbing your other hand before you can run away to plant soft kisses all over your knuckles. “Now where’s my reward?”

“A reward?” You ask, raising a curious brow while your hand stills on his head. “What do you want?”

“You.”

Your heart flutters, somehow still not used to his characteristic boldness that never shies away from expressing what he desires, making you go weak in the knees without fail.

You weren’t done with him yet, but Hyunjin did have a point – his patience deserved a reward after getting roped into another one of your schemes, even though you could always tell he loved your spontaneous mind and silly ideas.

Without a word, you dip down to plant a sweet kiss on his awaiting lips, one that lingers for as long as you’re both willing to get lost in each other. Which is a long time, an eternity if only your need for air didn’t butt in every few minutes to ruin the moment.

His strong arms circle your waist, keeping you in place as he kisses all of your thoughts away. His cheeky tongue caresses your bottom lip as if politely asking for entrance. You comply, only for a fleeting moment, allowing him to taste you as your hands squish his cheeks together, unable to help yourself.

When you pull away, you’re both a little out of breath, lips red and slick with each other’s saliva. Hyunjin’s looking up at you after resting his chin above your stomach, eyes full of the love only you can ignite in him, and the sight doesn’t fail to pull on your sensitive heartstrings.

Gently, with utmost care, you wipe at his bottom lip, causing his hold on you to tighten and pull you even closer, almost seating you on his lap.

Somehow, you manage to twist your body in his embrace and reach for the next product, still not willing to give up on your game.

“Baby,” you coo, caressing his jaw, “do you recognize this one?”

Releasing you, Hyunjin reaches for the small product that looks even tinier in his big hands, inspecting it thoroughly. He’s turning it around, analyzing it from every angle, before finally figuring out how to open it. A gasp escapes his full lips as a cloud of glitter greets him, the particles flying in his face like they too longed for a chance at his love, to touch and kiss his face like you were just doing minutes prior.

“It’s so shiny.” He mumbles, in awe of all the colorful hues he can see in the white powder. “Is this the thing you put on your eyes? What was it called?”

You can’t help but laugh, your heart growing in size at the adorable look on his face, the furrow between his eyebrows you had to hold yourself back from kissing away. “I guess you can use it on your eyes as well, yeah.”

“It’s a highlighter, Hyun.”

“Highlighter?” Hyunjin whispers, still as lost as ever, searching his mind for all the memories in which he’s witnessed you use this thing.

You nod, grabbing his hand to help him dip his fingers in, gently. “See how it sparkles?”

Hyunjin is mesmerized, staring at the swatch you just did on his hand with the curiosity of a little kid that just received a new, shiny toy he couldn’t bring himself to tear out of the package yet.

The sight is so endearing that your heart threatens to jump out of your chest at any second, leaving you behind in favor of finding a new home among Hyunjin’s other organs, deeming him more worthy. That’s why, you let her dictate your next move, leaning down to sweetly peck his lips once again, a kiss he returns automatically.

Now, he’s frowning because of a whole other reason, holding himself back from chasing after your lips. “I got it wrong though?”

You shake your head, beaming. “It doesn’t matter. Your cuteness deserves a reward either way.”

The last thing you see is his bright smile before you turn your back to him again, reaching for the eyelash curler that is bound to give him some trouble.

Once Hyunjin’s doe eyes settle on the small piece of metal in your hands, his smile vanishes as an emotion resembling fear clouds the chocolate color.

“Absolutely not! Get that torture device away from me!”

Oh, how much you loved your boyfriend and his dramatic antics.

[shiny-jr]

✂ damnation [ the crow courier ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Sebek Zigvolt, Silver, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia.

– Note: Not gonna lie, I did not reread this to make sure everything transferred alright. So hopefully the whole story is here.

– Pages: 44

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Praetorian Imp   |   The Crow Courier

A mask. There was a mask of cold black metal settled on the upper half of your face. It was cold, smooth against your cheeks. This was new. It wasn’t some sort of blindfold, as you could see perfectly and last you heard, they never blinded their prisoners. Concealing an evil-doer’s vision during their banishment was considered a small mercy, something they wouldn’t do, and the judges wanted each sinner to see the fate that awaited them. 

A supposedly horrid fate, but what sort of cruel end required you to wear a plate of armor and a warm cloak? Over your chest, your hand traced the curves and swirls on a metallic chest plate, reaching the black fabric over your shoulders and extending down your back. Removing the mask over your face and turning it in your hands to examine it, the empty eye holes of a feathered fiend stared back at you. The accessory resembled a bird, dark feathers carefully forged into the mask as the end curved into a sharpened beak. It was slightly unsettling, somewhat resembling the type of mask a plague doctor would don during the middle ages in times of peril. 

On the ground, just past the mask you were staring down at, were shreds of paper which caught your attention. It looked as if something or someone had torn a sheet to shreds and disregarded them in the middle of this dark and dreary hallway. Upon kneeling down to pick up a few pieces, your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to piece them back together like a puzzle. 

Piece after piece, you managed to somewhat make out the painted image despite the face of a crowned figure being burnt black beyond recognition, but the rest of the image could somewhat be salvaged at least enough to draw a conclusion. A taller faceless crowned figure in garbs, beside a queen, holding a bundled baby in their arms that had been torn straight through. Below, on the aged paper was written text reading: Announcing the birth of the princess. A holiday is to be proclaimed throughout the entire kingdom in honor of the princess. 

Why did this all seem so awfully familiar? 

Slowly standing, you jumped upon hearing the rumbling start of thunder. Outside, past the window, dark storm clouds gathered in a hurry above a dense forest and towering wall of thorns. Thorns! Thorns so tall that even from afar, they looked as big as a house! 

“Oh… wow.” You whisper in slight horror. 

The royal family and birth of a princess, a deep dark forest, a deadly wall of thorns–– these were all part of a story. These were points of a fictional story, and yet you were here. Here, somewhere, in a corridor where the walls were dark stone bricks and a long carpet ran along the floor. How did you play into this? The bird-like mask still in your hands and staring back at you, appeared to answer that. The only bird in the story was a black-feathered one, which served as the villain’s little pet.

This couldn’t be real, could it? Why was this your punishment, of all things? How did the story go again? 

A king and queen had a child, a princess, whose birth was celebrated throughout the entire kingdom. A glittering assemblage of folk from all walks of life, foreign and local, rich and poor, from royalty, nobility, gentry, and even the rabble, were invited to pay homage and revel in the festivities. However, the procession was disrupted by the arrival of an uninvited guest, the Mistress of All Evil. She was a malevolent fairy who brought a curse, promising death upon the infant princess. The princess goes into hiding with three good fairies for years, until the curse can pass, but eventually the malevolent fairy does capture both the princess and her betrothed prince. The princess falls into a death-like sleep, and the prince escapes to rescue her. In the process, the antagonist’s avian companion is turned to stone while the malevolent fairy turns into a dragon to face off against the hero in a grand battle, only to be defeated by a holy sword through the heart! 

It caused you to freeze, gulping as you imagined such an end. Stone… You were to be turned to stone! Would that mean instant death, or were to become a prisoner forced to be still and silent until the very end of time or at least until your stone body crumbled to dust? 

A pair of wooden doors flew open, the sudden sound as it slammed against the wall caused you to scream. That, and the appearance of an odd stranger in armor, was enough to make you believe that your end was now and sooner than expected. 

“YOU!” His booming voice nearly ruptured your eardrums as he pointed an accusatory finger. Directing a rather sharp nail, almost as equally sharp as his two front canine teeth which you caught sight of but sharper was the sword sheathed at his hip.

“Me???” You looked at the intimidating stranger, baffled and uneasy. 

The man clad in armor was certainly not a shining knight of goodness or a pure princess blessed by fairies. It became apparent by his pointed nails, sharp teeth, and unnaturally thin pupils that he wasn’t human. What sort of human had slicked back natural mint green hair? 

“Yes, you!! Do not be so dense, human! Who else do you see in this hall?” He stomped up to you, frowning deeply, almost snarling. As he got closer, you realized he was very tall and built like a soldier. At his hip, opposite to his blade, was a mask of dark metal, resembling yours. However, his mask was crafted to resemble a crocodile. “Do not think yourself superior for even a second! You are only valued for the intel you can provide, nothing more, nothing less. Here you are, milling about uselessly while the rest of us search tirelessly for the girl! I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a mortal!” 

Squinting a bit at him, it took a solid second for all those words he spoke to be processed in your mind. Another round of thunder rumbled outside, sounding closer than before. “But… I am stupid?” You smiled a bit awkwardly, watching how the stranger’s face fell with each following word. “Sorry, who are you? I think you have the––” He has the wrong person. Before you could complete that thought, thunder seemed to shake the very walls as its booming clap reverberated throughout the air. 

It was loud, loud enough to startle both yourself and the uncouth bright-eyed one. 

“Have you no decency? You cannot even recall your colleague’s name! It’s Sebek! Sebek! We spoke months ago before departing for the most recent search!” He replied, frustrated that you didn’t remember his name, despite not even meeting before. Was he mistaking you for someone? It’s as if you had been thrust into some sort of role, maybe that’s why he didn’t take you for an intruder. 

“Okay, okay, Sebek. Got it. You don’t need to say it a third time. Please, spare my poor ears.” Raising an eyebrow, you nearly flinched every time he spoke. It’s like he had a megaphone built into his voice box, because he talked in what sounded like shouts. “Also, why are you yelling? I can hear you perfectly fine, you don’t have to be so loud.” 

“Why am I…?” The weirdo, apparently called Sebek, parroted in disbelief as he ran a hand through his mint green hair. His fingers gripping his head, fingers tangled through his own locks. “Why are you still here?! General Vanrouge has requested I look for you because you were absent for an assembly called by the Master! Deliberately missing special councils called by him is deplorable on every level!” Reaching forward, he suddenly caught your arm in an iron grip as he practically dragged you through a maze of corridors until they approached the source of a commotion. 

Better to allow this Sebek character to escort you than refusing and risking him having an aneurysm, you figured. Something in your gut told you to go with it, and don’t immediately bring up the fact that you weren’t who they thought you were, especially now that you had arrived in a room chock full of armed soldiers dressed in a manner similar to Sebek. 

However, all these people had two striking features, slitted pupils and pointed ears. Pointed ears. Definitely not human. Yes, you were stupid, but not stupid enough to expose yourself when you were outnumbered a hundred-to-one. 

“What’s all this––?”

Before you could completely round the corner, you nearly fell back into Sebek as a cloaked figure appeared out of the shadows. They hung from the ceiling, their face in front of yours. A terrifying individual, with thin locks of pitch black and blood red, and a face of a terrifying gnarling beast. “Boo!” 

Wide-eyed, you stared at the figure as you leaned back into Sebek’s arms who didn’t seem as surprised as you. Was this a companion of his? The matching cloak, the similar armor, and… that face of the hanging stranger was metal. A mask. A mask that looked like some horrifying monstrous bat.

Placing a hand on your heart, you closed your eyes and fell back dramatically, playing the part. Your legs went limp, the only thing preventing your form from hitting the cold hard floor was the pair of strong arms holding you up from behind. 

A snicker was the only applause for your small performance, as Sebek jostled you from your act. For some particular reason, Sebek was impatient as he forced you to your feet, but he didn’t dare raise his voice at this surprisingly short figure that somehow floated down from the ceiling like a feather drifting to the ground. 

“This is an entirely serious matter! Lilia–– General, please.” Sebek pleaded, keeping you stuck in place by gripping your shoulders to keep you facing the General. What did Sebek call him earlier? Vanrouge? This was him? 

This Vanrouge character was on the petite side, he hardly looked like a general with his undersized stature and thin limbs. Yet his armor fit him just fine, and on his belt was a great big cleaver that sparkled like jade. Definitely not about to cross him when he had that on his person. 

Cleaver aside, it was really difficult to fear him when he removed his terrifying mask. While yes, his features were far less human than Sebek’s, he was somewhat adorable. When he laughed, you noticed small sharpened fangs while his big crimson red eyes and slitted pupils shined with mirth. Even one of his pale pointed ears appeared to twitch. “I know, I know, but can’t I enjoy one moment of laughter before everything goes to rack and ruin?” 

There was no need to even ask what exactly he meant by that, because again, there was that thundering rumble that shook the very palace walls. It sounded even closer this time, like it was in just the next room over! 

Vanrouge, or rather, Lilia, appeared a bit anxious, jittery as he brushed off his nerves with a quieter laugh. His own hands had gripped your shoulders as Sebek took a step back. “See, this is why you are one of my favorite humans! Mortals are so easygoing and you get my humor.” 

“Thank you? And you’re my favorite…” You paused. What even was he? What were they? In some renditions, there were fairies, but sometimes the creature that was the malevolent fairy and her goons were left a mystery. In one story the malevolent fairy had an army of creatures with animalistic features. Is that what they were supposed to be? It would explain the masks. What if you were wrong? “You’re my favorite little guy.” 

Sebek looked down at you incredulously as if you had insulted his own mother, and you realized far too late that you had quite literally called a General a little guy. However, instead of bringing his cleaver down upon you and splitting you in half or destroying you with some type of wild fantastical twinkly fairy magic, this General only giggled. He giggled, which made you grin like a fool. You had done something right, apparently! 

Deciding against saying the first thought that came to mind, Sebek instead blurted out, “This is the only human you actually talk to! They are the only one among us fae!” 

So that’s what they were. Fae. “Details, details. It still counts.” Lilia dismissed, leading you closer to the very end of the hall where it opened up to a space with more soldiers like him and Sebek. Faes. In a huge spacious room, gathered, listing reports on the results of their scouting missions. Missions likely with the goal of finding the princess. Once there, he placed an arm around your shoulder. Here, his voice was quieter to avoid being heard by the masses. “Come, we know the Master will be in need of some good news right about now, whether you can deliver it or fetch it. It will quell his… irritability. And it may take a human to catch a human. We cannot fully comprehend how your minds work, but perhaps you can understand a fellow mortal’s and finally make this search a success. Go now, courier.” 

Lilia had pushed you out in the open just as the last of the soldiers were wrapping up their report of failed searches. Your dark garbs and metal crow mask had allowed you to blend right in, but it felt like you were a rabbit in a den of ravenous wolves. No one stared at you, because they were far too transfixed on a towering figure not too far from where the General had pushed you. 

As soon as the figure entered your line of vision, you too became just as transfixed as everyone else. Master. This was their master, which could only be the malevolent fairy, fae, in this case. It should have never been possible for someone to have both the facets of a devil but the magnificence of an angel, but he did. Horns as black as night curved atop his head and inky black scales bordered the bases, making it look like a crown while shadows appeared to blend into his robes like fabric weaved of pure darkness devoid of any light. The only light that escaped him came from his eyes, like the common slitted pupils in this crowd yet his eyes glowed an enchanting green like no other. 

It was like a moth to a flame, destined to burn, but you found yourself drawing near behind his dark throne anyways. 

“It’s inconceivable!” He hissed, loud enough so that the entirety of the gathered could hear his voice echo in the space around them. The thunder outside seemed to crack with his every word. The fae, his loyal denizens, shirked back instinctively yet they continued to awe at the malevolent one. “Twenty years, and not a trace of the princess. How is it that this one human, a mortal, has miraculously escaped the vigilant watchful eyes of every one of my most diligent knights and soldiers who have searched all but endlessly, high and low, for two decades? Hm?” 

You kept glued to the wall, the uneven bricks against your back as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible. What were you supposed to do? What could a mortal do against him, the same fae that has the ability to transform into a dragon of immeasurable strength? This fae was the one who would eventually drag you down with him. 

“Humans are numerous, and they are a tricky sort, Your Majesty.” Lilia appeared at the forefront of the throng. Despite the obvious vexation of the horned-one, he continued merrily with an encouraging smile, despite the apprehension of his armored colleagues. “We can’t exactly venture into towns too long without the risk of being discovered or the presence of that pesky iron weakening us. But we make do, and during nights we’ve checked every strip of land from the moors’ borders, to the villages and towns, even the highest mountains. Haven’t we, boys?” 

A murmur of agreement washed over the crowd. For twenty years they had tirelessly searched, and they had no princess to show for their efforts. It wasn’t that the princess disappeared into thin air, this much you could remember. There was a reason they couldn’t find the princess as she dwelled in a cottage deep within the woods with her caretakers, the three good fairies, acting as poor mortal women. What was that reason again…? 

One hand shot up from the crowd, a voice louder than the rest, the familiar voice of Sebek. “Yes, Master Malleus we did! And we will gladly continue our search, comb through every region once more, and check every cradle again all for you to extract your revenge upon the despicable humans and their wicked king!” 

“Cradles…?” The dark fae, apparently named Malleus, directed his widening eyes towards them. His grip tightened on his long twisted wooden staff. You were given the answer as to why they never found the princess within the first years. The faes had forgotten that mortals aged, so the princess they were looking for was no longer a baby in a cradle. 

“Oh no.” Sensing the impending danger, you took cover behind the throne. From behind the throne you peeked out, using the royal seat as a shield. When the towering fae’s green-eyed gaze landed on you by a glance, you stilled like a frozen statue. The hair on the back of your neck raised as your gaze met his. Seeing his eyes become temporarily focused on you, feeling his unholy presence, sensing the incoming disaster he would wrought–– everything about this man, if he even was a man, made alarm bells ring on your head. 

Suddenly, a smile graced his features. It was the sort that masked his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He was close, close enough to reach a hand forward slowly so his fingertips grazed the underside of your chin. Lips curled upward into a menacing grin, but it wasn’t the crazed sort. He was scarily calm as he peered down at you. “Did you hear that, my courier?” 

There were over a hundred pairs of eyes on you at the moment. Watching intently as you leaned back a bit, a chill traveling up your spine as his sharp black nails traced your flesh. You’re sure you were beaming like a simpleton, whether out of instinct or out of some sort of response to your current nerves. Certainly this was how the sailors felt in times of old when confronted by enchanting sirens that lured them to certain doom in watery graves. What were the don’ts regarding fairies and faes of myths? Don’t give your name, don’t lie, and don’t enter the obvious fae traps designed to ensnare curious humans. This must’ve been some sort of fae trap, it had to when he had a face like that. 

Was Malleus addressing you directly because you were the only human in the room? “Yes… Loud and clear.” One corner of your mouth twitched into an awkward smile in return, but you found yourself unable to remove your eyes from his. A brief and quiet chuckle left your lips, “It’s… kinda funny.” 

“Isn’t it?” When he removed his fingers from your chin, you nearly tumbled forward, but you managed to successfully catch yourself before you could crash into him. The fae turned around, beginning to chuckle in his deep voice, a sound which echoed in the tense silence of the packed throne room. “For all these years I have been waiting, and they have been looking for a baby.” 

The General, Lilia, was perhaps the first to realize something was amiss when the Master of All Evil began to laugh. Vanrouge seemed like the type to enjoy a laugh, but this wasn’t just a moment to crow about their recent failings. A moment of clarity dawned on him while his colleagues unsurely joined in on the commotion. Your gaze met his and you frantically shook your head as Sebek rapidly clasped his hands over his mouth in shock and regret upon realizing their mistake and his blunder. You tried to signal them to flee while you yourself retreated further back behind the throne for cover. 

It was just in the nick of time too, as the air began to fizzle with static electricity, growing with every passing second as his laugh became less humorous and more diabolical. There was the same lightning from before but instead of being outside, it sounded as if it was inside these very walls. Crashing and striking every second, one, two, three, four, five, shaking the castle. You felt your eardrums vibrate as you continued to brace yourself behind the throne until it stopped. This was your first true taste of utter terror and helplessness. 

Here you were for a reason, to die, either by stone or before, whether it be by the clubs of the fae soldiers, at the sharp end of a holy sword, or between the maws of the Master of All Evil. It felt like an eternity, but it was likely under a minute, when the destruction ended. Trembling slightly, you peeked out to survey the damage. 

It was a harsh reminder of your current plight. There were no bodies laying motionless, as everyone either had the means to defend themselves or Malleus simply wasn’t aiming for any of them in his burst of anger. The throne room had been largely evacuated thanks to General Lilia and Sebek. Only shields and the occasional weapon were left behind in the hurry to avoid being struck by his wrath, dark spots were ingrained where the lightning struck the ground, a few stones tumbled loose from any walls that were hit as collateral damage. 

If you somehow survived this, it would be no less than a miracle. 

The air cooled, no longer hot with generating bolts of electricity, as the bottom of the dark fae’s staff snapped against the ground and he frowned deeply. Turning heel, his robes swished behind him as he made his way to his lonely throne with his head hung low. As he sat in the quiet empty room, you slowly revealed yourself from behind his throne. 

The fae only glanced at you briefly, as he took a deep breath and exhaled. Averting his gaze away from you, he didn’t strike you down just for staying. In fact, his next words seemed almost out of character for his role as Master of All Evil. “I apologize for my outburst… That was unbecoming of me.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you kneeled beside his throne at the right side of his armrest. For some reason, the king of the faes wouldn’t look at you. Rather, he opted to keep his gaze directed at the empty open space of the throne room. “Well, I think that was a reasonable crashout after twenty years of waiting only to hear they were looking for the wrong thing. I’d probably lose my temper too if I were you. You’re pretty patient for waiting even half that time.” 

“I appreciate your attempts to ease my suffering.” Somber. The dark fae was not as cruel as you had originally imagined. Frightening, yes, but he didn’t willingly and knowingly aim to zap his own subjects. After a few seconds of complete silence, he finally directed his undivided attention towards you. “It has been some time since I’ve personally requested my courier to go. The last time was when the… beastly little royal human had been born into this world. But now, due to the ignorance my own kin have shown, I must ask you to venture into the human kingdom.” 

“O… kay.” Slowly you nodded along, already knowing what he wanted you to find. The princess would be the objective. However, even for your knowledge of the story, you only knew she dwelled in a cottage within the woods. You had no idea how to actually go about finding her! 

The dark fae peered down at you, his green eyes staring into yours. Moving his hand to your head a few inches above the armrest of his throne, he carefully examined your every feature. It was petrifying to be analyzed so closely by such a creature of imaginable power, but his otherworldly sort of allure made it almost possible to forget the frightening show of strength you had just witnessed. Almost, but not quite, as his power was just as striking. 

“Circle far and wide.” Malleus began, his fingers against your chin slowly making you stand on your feet but not stand straight. You had to remain in a low stance as if hunched over, he brought your face close to his until he stood. Stood so his figure was towering over yours like an ominous shadow, and so you had to look up at him. These next words were a command, cold and indisputable. “Search for a maiden with hair of sunshine gold and lips red as the rose. Go, and do not fail me.” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Run. That was at the forefront of your mind. The alternative to a life of freedom and chance was appealing when compared to the gruesome fateful end you are destined to eventually meet. It would be easy to escape, given that you already had a black stallion as a steed to transport you from the fae’s moors and enchanted forests to the open fields and sprawling towns where your fellow humans resided. 

Run is what your mentality screamed when you had faced the Master of All Evil and stared him down. There was a good chance that other malefactors who may have ended up in similar situations as yours may have met their fate much earlier. On the ride to the neighboring kingdom’s main capital city, you had plenty of time to think of how you may have unintentionally dodged death. Should Sebek have found you suspicious and realized you did not belong, he would easily have the strength to overtake you; if Lilia had noticed that you were not one of his own, then his cleaver would have been stained red; even Malleus could’ve easily obliterated you with his magic, whether unintentionally or deliberately. 

Run is what you wanted to do when you finally reached the human city. Flee far into the countryside, in a land far far far away from here, completely out of reach for even the mighty fae and his loyal underlings. 

Such an option was tempting, that is, until you actually beheld human civilization. It was jarring, to say the least, the scene was a cold slap in the face, a reminder that this was not at all like the world you once knew. Riding into town, you found it a dreary type of place. Ever since you stepped foot out of fae territory, it’s as if the light had been sucked out of every living thing. Were things always this monotonous, or did the peaceful air in the vibrance of the enchanted forests just make things look worse in comparison? 

This was a medieval era, you were reminded as much by the colorful banners of the royal family and noble houses, the aroma of freshly baked bread, and the strong scent of burning coal and forging irons. People milled about, going on with their daily duties, completely ignoring the stranger that was you. 

That’s right–– to these simple townsfolk, you were one of them! A human, not a fae that which they feared. Perhaps a wandering knight in armor, a traveller passing through, nobody worth a second glance. This is why Malleus thought you were most fit to venture out for clues. However, what you wanted were not clues but answers. Should you stay or go? Risk your life and somehow try to change the entirety of the plot, in the hopes you would be rewarded for your loyalty by the fae king that wielded incredible power and riches? Or choose to run, run and never look back, run and hope you found something better to avoid your punishment? 

This desire for answers was seemingly answered in the form of a stranger. A stranger who nearly ran you over with a brilliant white steed, as you were walking and leading your own stallion by its leather reigns. It was close to the marketplace, but in an isolated corner of the city boxed in by towering brick walls built to fortress invasions. Which is why hardly anyone was there to bear witness as you jumped back, narrowly missing being stepped on by the hooves of the suddenly appearing beast as your own horse grew panicked. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” You scowled at the rider, whose face you didn’t see until their horse backed up and you had to calm your own. It was difficult to calm it, it felt nearly impossible when you had no experience with these finicky creatures as you awkwardly tugged on the reins and tried to reach a hand toward it. 

A pale hand came into view, placing itself upon the creature’s black fur on its forehead. “Here, let me help.” Instantly, he calmed the anxious creature with just one soothing touch and the sound of his hushed voice. 

A fae? No, that was impossible! The telltale sign was the soft round ears and round pupils dotting the most entrancing pair of eyes you had ever seen before. It felt impossible to name the color, but it was like dawn’s first light. The hair on his head reflected the evening sun like silver, even his outfit was pristine and not that of a commoner. Gray and white tunic of high quality fabrics buttoned with gold, tailored dark pants with black polished boots, and a white cloak flowing down his back. Even if this man certainly had the grace and charm of a fae, he certainly was not one, he was human. 

“I’m terribly sorry.” Carefully he gathered the black leather reigns in his hands, placing them in yours as his fingers brushed against your flesh. He was warm. “I didn’t see you there, and I didn’t mean to frighten your horse, or you. Are you alright…?” 

A bit taken aback, you didn’t react as he slid the reins into your hands. You were far too entranced, puzzled by his mere presence. No human should be that pretty. The guy was radiant, he stood out so prominently. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, the words came tumbling past your lips and you only realized how it sounded once they were out hanging in the air. “What are you?” 

The refined gentleman remained mostly impassive, but his eyes widened the slightest bit and he blinked. Slowly lowering his calloused hands, he looked at you inquisitively. Specifically staring at your mask. “My name is Silver. Who are you?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You realized how peculiar you must’ve looked to others. The mask allowed you to fit right in among the fae, but here, there was no need for such a thing. So slowly you removed it and attached it to your hip. “Silver, huh…? Is that a nickname or something? It’s not really original.” 

“No, I suppose it isn’t very original.” Shaking his head lightly, expressionless, his eyes drifted to the ground as he casually admitted, “It was a name suggested by my late uncle who passed on before my birth in a terrible tragedy. My mother and father decided to keep it in his honor.”

When he looked back at you, both your hands were clasped over your mouth. Rapidly, you began to attempt to make up for your blunder, nearly stumbling over your words. “N-No, no, you heard me wrong…! I meant that it’s a very original name. Really. I mean, who else do you know that has the name Silver? Or Gold? Or Bronze? No one! Your name is perfect, I love it.” 

“Oh, well thank you…” Silver managed the slightest trace of a smile, but other than that he remained rather apathetic. Still, he peered down at you with vague curiosity. “You still have yet to tell me your name.” 

“My name?” Were you allowed to even say your name? What if you said it, and a fae heard it, and failed to recognize it? That would be a fatal mistake. “Oh, I have a name. And it’s not a metal-based one, mind you. But, everyone just calls me Courier.” That’s what Lilia had referred to you as earlier. 

The young man tilted his head to the side, looking rather confused as he guessed. “Your nickname is your occupation?” 

“… Yes.” You winced, realizing how stupid it seemed, worse than a name like his, but it was already out in the open. It couldn’t be taken back. “It’s a nickname.”

“I see.” There was no judgement on his end. All he did was nod along, taking it all with grace. Lightly tugging on the reins of his steed, just to keep them close as you did with yours, he looked around the empty street. “Courier, may I ask you a favor? It appears I’ve gotten myself lost. The last time I was here was several years ago, and I hardly recognize any of these roads. I was trying to find my way to the palace to meet with the King. Do you believe you might be able to point me in the right direction?” 

Your ear perked up at that. The King? As in one of the humans that Malleus viewed as a foe? It didn’t take long at all to find a lead! If this lead proved to be useful, then maybe it was worth the risk staying. If Malleus became the victor to receive his own happily ever after, wouldn’t that mean you would receive the same? “The King? Well, you must be someone important to meet with him.” 

“Ah, yes, I don’t usually mention this… It draws far too much attention.” Silver shifted as you gestured for him to follow. You had no idea where the palace was, but it wouldn’t be too hard to move towards the general direction of a towering estate once you saw it. Keeping up with your pace, the black and white horses in tow, he continued, “I have to meet with him because I’m the prince betrothed to his daughter.” 

You nearly screamed in delight. This was perfect! Too perfect! This wasn’t just a lead, this was one of the story’s two main protagonists! Instead, you could only grin, your giddiness probably seemed common to him whenever he introduced himself as royalty. But your excitement was due for another entirely different reason. “You don’t say!”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he responded quietly, a bit confused, “I’m saying so right now…?” 

“No, it’s an expression, duh.” You rolled your eyes, half amused by the prince’s innocence. This was all coming together so well! However, you had to remain cautious. In the story, the crow assisted in the capture of the prince and eternal sleep falling over the princess, but it was due to carelessness that the bird still got turned to stone! “So, you’re practically engaged to someone you don’t even know? Ooh… I’m very sorry for your marriage.” 

Silver paused, appearing slightly confused as he spoke in such a soft and enchanting voice. The prince made simple words sound like a lullaby. “I’m no expert in felicitations, but I believe the saying is congratulations, not I’m very sorry for your marriage.” 

Appearing to contemplate his words for a moment, you then shrug your shoulders and dismiss the comment from him. “Hmm… Nahhhh.” You know what you said. “I meant what I said.”

“What an odd thing to say.” Silently furrowing his eyebrows, he appeared deep in thought as he considered your words. Quietly the prince remarked in a hushed tone, “No one has ever said such a thing to me. Since you said that, it must mean you understand that this isn’t an entirely positive ordeal for me. I… never thought anyone would understand my life long predicament.” 

“What…?” Looking at him with a mix of confusion and amusement, you held back any laughter. All you had done was try to poke fun and tease the prince, not talk heart to heart with him! 

The prince looked at you, a delighted sparkle in his eyes that contradicted the apathetic expression of the royal. Keeping pace, he followed rather closely even as you picked up speed once catching sight of the palace from the corner of your eye. “You understand that this arranged royal marriage is not as grand as most make it out to be. I haven’t even met my betrothed yet.” 

Personally, you didn’t see much wrong with his romantic situation, but that was coming from someone of the outside perspective. Slaying a dragon aside, all he had to do was marry a wealthy princess of unmatched beauty and grace, who he’ll come to love anyways. After the wedding he’d remain royalty, and eventually become a king. “Oh, boo-hoo, what a problem to have!” Actually, scratch that. You wouldn’t want to be him when he was the one who had to face the Master of All Evil head on in combat. Malleus was frightening enough just as he was, but seeing him as a dragon was likely a thousand times more terrifying.

Again, the sarcasm went directly over his head. Instead, he nodded along, keeping pace as his leather-toed boots clicked against the cobblestone street. “Well, I wouldn’t say boo-hoo exactly. It doesn’t quite make me sad, just… disappointed, I suppose. It is a heavy burden to shoulder. Father and Mother believe that uniting our kingdoms through marriage is the best option in protecting us from the fae.” 

“The fae, hm? How scary~” You hummed. Upon the mention of the fae, you cannot help but recall the magical folk with their pointed ears and beastly masks. Certainly the way they came across with their attire could be very frightening. They were a funny bunch, but unsettling.

“I wouldn’t know. I have never met one before, my family has forbidden it.” Silver shrugged lightly, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him. Conscious of every step he took, he made slow measured strides so as to not outpace you. “Perhaps someday, if I were to ever meet one, we could establish diplomatic relations to mend the harm that our people have caused to each other throughout history. Most humans do not want to fight, and I’d like to believe that the fae feel the same.” 

“It’s possible the fae aren’t all bad.”

For a moment, you pictured it. Peace between the Moors and the Kingdom. While some fae seemed to have an aversion toward humanity, their majestic leader didn’t appear to feel the same. Rather, his loathing was specifically aimed at the King and by extension his Princess daughter, which would then also extend to the daughter’s betrothed Prince currently walking beside you. Silver would be an enemy in Malleus’ eyes by association to the Princess. 

“What? Is your heart made out of gold or something?” You scoffed, distracting from the serious topic with a bit of light teasing. The conversation was beginning to feel too heavy. “Or should I say… a heart of silver!” When you only got a silent glance from him, you faltered. “Nevermind. Tough crowd.” 

Coming up to the guarded wooden bridge that separated the city from the kingdom, you stopped in the shadows. It was best to avoid any unwanted attention, especially from the knights standing guard at the entrance as people flowed across the bridge. This was the furthest you could go. Best not risk being caught as a human spy for the fae. 

“I thought it was funny.” Silver admitted quietly, stopping beside you in the light as he placed a hand over his horse’s neck. Even though he said he found it humorous, his expression didn’t match his words. 

Noticing this, you gave a half scoff as you pointed out the obvious. “You didn’t even laugh.” 

Silently he watched you climb onto the saddle over the black horse. At your words he nodded slowly in confirmation. Indeed, he had not laughed at your joke. Stepping forward, stopping you from leaving immediately, he placed his hand over yours which gripped the reins. Those aurora eyes gazed up at you, glittering, despite the detached expression on his face. “May I see you again? You were the first to never scoff at my idea that the fae can be reasoned with.” 

The fae could be reasoned with, you knew this much. It may be difficult, but it is possible. Perhaps once Malleus wrought revenge on those who crossed him, he would be willing to be amicable. Now if that would even be possible after the humans see a notorious fae bring death upon their royals like a curse, was a completely different story. “You want to see me again?” 

Silver nodded, confirming even despite seeing the sheer incredibility of your expression. “Also to hear more of your jokes.” 

Pulling the reins out of his grasp, your steed stepped in place but seemed much easier to control now. “Uhh… sure? Why not? I like you anyways, you’re kinda weird.” Before he could open his mouth, you interrupted, calling over your shoulder as your steed began to take off. “Don’t ask questions! We’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” 

You would definitely be seeing him again, for better or for worse. If your memory serves you right, the Malevolent Fairy captures the Prince and has him chained in her palace’s dungeon. There, while her goons are reveling in their victory, she and her avian companion pay a visit to their royal prisoner. It is then that the Malevolent Fairy reveals her plan to keep the Prince locked away for a hundred years, and only then once he’s old and on the verge of death, will he be allowed free to go and wake the Princess after a century of slumber. Maybe you could convince Malleus to spare Silver? Could that work to your advantage or would that work against you? 

As you steer the steed through the forest, back to the moors through a different path, weaving through dense foliage and shrubbery in the search for another hint, the flash of color caught your gaze. It was out of place, bright and glittering against nature’s backdrop. They were like small puffs and explosions of glitter and light, colorful like fireworks, as clear as flares. When you got close enough, you knew you had found it when you spotted a little hidden cottage. From inside past closed doors came bickering and shouting as the chimney spouted magic instead of black soot. 

Steadily a grin grew on your face as you awed at the magic dust spewing from the top. “Huh… that’s awfully convenient. But wait a minute…” 

You stayed behind, hiding your steed in the dense foliage as you crept along in the shadows cast by the trees and the back of the cottage. Eventually, a girl did arrive. A girl with golden hair and rose red lips, the one that had to be the princess. You listened as she arrived, the side of your face pressed up against the cold rugged stone walls. 

The princess was ecstatic upon receiving her birthday gifts, but she spoke of no mysterious man. No true love she met in the woods. Not even when her caretakers, who must’ve been the three good fairies, told her about her true identity as royalty, she didn’t cry because she would not see the man she fell in love with. Since she hadn’t met him, because of you. 

“Fuck…!” You cursed under your breath, dread pooling in the depths of your stomach. 

You had taken up too much of Silver’s time. So much time that he had missed the vital point in the plot where he was supposed to accidentally stumble upon the hidden Princess in the woods, and they were to fall in love. You were telling him stupid jokes while he was supposed to be falling head over heels with her! The storyline had already gone astray by this one mistake, and the terrible realization dawned on you. 

“I’m a homewrecker––” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

“Why, our courier is back so soon.” Lilia crooned as he watched you burst through the stairs coming from the stables. Seeing your slightly disheveled appearance, he tilted his head but didn’t move from his spot lounging snuggly at the windowsill overlooking the vast expanse of training grounds. “My, my, don’t tell me the humans gave you trouble! You look like a bat out of hell.” 

Quickly shaking your head, you drew nearer to him as he carefully studied you. It made you nervous, being watched so closely by a General, but you just had to play it cool! “Nooo.” You curse the awkward crack in your voice, clearing your throat. “Of course not! I just have some very urgent news.” 

“Hmm. For a moment there I thought I would have to scare a lesson into some troublesome humans picking on our precious little courier.” Diverting his attention back to the window against his side, he hummed as he spectated some knights sparring against each other with brandished blades. 

You watched as Lilia leaned forward towards the window in interest, his nose practically pressed up against the glass. With a motion of his fingers, he caused some of the training dummies to move by magic. He lifted his fingers, controlling them like puppets so they weakly pestered and frightened any younger knights beside them.

As a few terrified screams and panicked shouts rang out from the courtyard, Lilia grinned and threw his head back in laughter. When he caught your half-amused and sort of confused smile, the mischievous fae beamed. “Come now, these are the jokes, young mortal. I’d expect you to understand. Don’t you have any otherworldly humor you could present to me? Phony says what.”

“What…?” One word. One word he said caused you to freeze, the sentence you were about to say hung off your lips and clogged your throat. Phony…? Any smile on your face was momentarily dashed as you processed what he just said, and you wanted to smack yourself for your stupidity. Audibly you gulped, forcing down anything you would have said before. The confusion must’ve been clear on your face, because it only served to amuse him further. You never were too good at hiding your shock. “You… You know I’m not––?” 

“I know you’re very very far from home. I’ve lived nearly a millennium and traveled the globe, and during my travels I’ve heard the occasional rumor of unexplainable instances concerning particular mortals. A single mortal acting odd, out of place, with more knowledge than they should, especially before monumental events. Although I never assumed it would happen here.” Lilia mused, resting his temple against the glass as his crimson red eyes never left your form. The shiny cleaver at his side looked extra sharp. “Usually, I’m not too fond of strange humans. However, you appear to be relatively harmless.” Flashing a fang-toothed grin that only made you grimace a bit, he continued, “Don’t worry, I quite like you. It sounds like you were successful in your hunt for information, and that’s what matters most.” 

You proceeded carefully, prodding a bit further just to test the limits of the current boundaries. “You’re not… mad?” 

“Oh, heavens no! Why should I be? You seem quite diligent and charming in your own right. So long as you don’t betray Malleus, then we will have no issue between us.” His voice had turned a bit serious, low, as his little grin dimmed. “He has already faced far too much betrayal at the hands of humans. Even for someone on the dense side, anyone can see that becoming a source of hatred for him would be akin to signing away their life. And I’m sure you aren’t that dull, are you?” 

Quickly shaking your head, the frown on your lips pulled down further as you remembered just how terrifying his electrifying show of power had been. And that wasn’t even the full extent of his strength! “Uh, no, I don’t think so. So… you won’t tell anyone about me?” 

“There’s no need for me to do so, so no.” With a slow beckoning of his finger, you felt an unfamiliar visible force against your back. Immediately you were pulled, magically tugged by some unseen force until he was close enough to grab you by the collar. Again, it was a stark reminder as to who you were dealing with, especially upon seeing the calluses on his palms and tiny scars littered across his slim fingers. Nervously you smiled, and he returned the gesture with a confident one. “Let’s have a bit of a partnership, shall we? A trade, if you will. A bit of tit for tat. I’m curious about what you know, and I’m sure you feel something similar towards me. Am I right? Enlighten me, dear courier.” 

“Haha…” A crooked smile made its way on your lips, as you somehow remained composed. Maybe your mind wasn’t immediately comprehending the danger you were currently in. “You first?” 

Lilia eyed you carefully, eventually letting go of your collar as he plucked your metal mask right off your face. “Very well. But only because you asked nicely.” That likely wasn’t the reason. This fae was a General, and it didn’t take a genius to realize he must’ve been a rather ruthless one if his scars were anything to go by. 

You silently thanked whatever higher force was watching over you, as Lilia could have easily decided to take you out right then and there for being a liar and an intruder. 

Sharp black nails traced every dip and groove in the metal, his fingers trailing down the long beak of the mask in his grasp. General Vanrouge made no effort to call for backup or restrain you simply because he didn’t need to. “If I were you, I would first like to know my place in all this.” 

A single nod from you was all the confirmation he needed in order to continue. 

“You are his majesty’s precious courier. A human he found one day when outside of the moors, he watched you be abandoned by your village. Those simple minded folk claimed you were cursed by fae, that there was something wrong with you. So, a fae took you in, because he needed a mortal to be his eyes and ears in the places he couldn’t go.” That explained a lot about why you were the only mortal allowed in the moors and enchanted forest. It explained why his soldier’s would sometimes watch you warily, but never outright harm you. Because you were considered his, a personal servant to their sovereign. “Now, may I have your name?” 

Immediately your mind honed in on those words. May I have your name? Faes weren’t real back home, but here, they were very real and very dangerous. If the stories were true, then they were a tricky type that chose their words carefully, often holding double meanings to what they say. You caught sight of a glimmer of magic readily swirling at his fingertips. The general didn’t just want to hear your name. “No, you may not.” You managed an attempt at a smile as he blinked at you. “You can just call me Courier, just like everyone else here.” 

Steadily a smirk grew on his face as he chuckled, “Smart, mortal. Alright, Courier. If you won’t give me your name, then answer this: why are you here? For power, perhaps glory, or riches unattainable by your current standing?” 

“That all does sound nice but believe it or not, I’m not here willingly.” Was there any harm in telling him? If he wouldn’t speak of your identity, would he mention the reason you were here to anyone else? In myths, faes didn’t appreciate liars. Besides, the near millenia old being seemed like the type to figure this out especially with your habit of letting things slip. Even if you lied now and he later found out the truth, he may not be too pleased to discover that you had the gall to lie twice to him. “It may sound like one big joke to you, but I’ll tell you.” 

Awkwardly you glanced away, unable to meet his gaze anymore. You tried looking everywhere but at him. Your gaze landed on the window, and you saw the familiar green-haired knight picking up the busted remains of ravaged training dummies. After a few seconds, Sebek’s green eyes landed on you by chance, and you immediately averted your gaze again. How did you even begin to explain your origins? 

“See, it’s like this…” You took a deep breath before beginning. “My homeland is strict and punishes criminals by banishing them. I got banished and woke up here. That’s the gist of it. And if you’re wondering what I want, well… all those things you said before do sound nice, I just mainly want to focus on surviving. This whole situation seems… familiar, in a way. Like a story I read before.” 

“Hmmm…” Although Lilia didn’t really react vocally, you could see the shock and intrigue in those big red eyes that widened at your explanation. However, he remained mostly quietly, an amused smile on his face as he was engrossed in your explanation. Only when you finished speaking did he ask inquisitively, “What was your crime? You seem so youthful, naive, and sincere. Positive qualities. Surely whatever your people found you guilty of could not have been any sort of offense worse than I’ve committed. You’re still a bit wet behind the ears after all.” 

Slowly shrugging, you replied somewhat quietly. “I’d rather not answer that.” 

“Fair enough. We all have a few skeletons in our closets that we’d prefer not to reveal. Some may be quite literal!” Wait, what did he just say? “So if you’re not willing to give up your name, or the specifics of your crime, then what are you willing to offer?” 

You watched as he sat up, his feet dangling off the floor as he sat on the window ledge. Carefully you contemplated his words, weighing each of your choices until the first thing came to mind. “I can promise you I’ll make sure Malleus gets a good ending. Because if this plays out like how I think it will, then a dragon ends up stabbed through the heart.” 

Something in Lilia’s eyes flashed as he stood up. It was chilling how the fae’s wide bright eyes went from curious and mirthful to cold and unblinking. “Is that so…?” 

“Yes. But I don’t want that, and I’m sure you don’t want that too, right?” You tried not to falter, but you couldn’t help but take a few steps back when he continued to steadily walk towards you without stopping. “Well… I’d like to prevent that with just one condition. I get to possibly live comfortably afterwards––” An involuntary gasp left your mouth as your back hit the wall, you were cornered. Slowly you sunk down, suddenly very intimidated by the small General as you practically sunk down until he was the one leering down at you. “And maybe you don’t, you know, kill me…?” 

The general’s fist was suddenly beside your head, his thumb grazing the shell of your ear as you could make out the distinct sound of stone crumbling as his fingers gripped the bricks. “So what you’re telling me is that you may be able to predict the future. So if you die, then there’s the heightened chance of our King dying?” 

“I––” You were wrong. You knew Lilia was someone to be feared, but you underestimated how utterly terrifying he was. Yes, he was darling and cute, but he didn’t even need his signature weapon to be effective. “Y-Yes…?”

General Vanrouge appeared to scrutinize you as you realized just how sharp his fangs were. In the blink of an eye, his harsh expression dropped and he smiled at your terror. “Okay! I won’t break His Majesty’s little courier he's been so intrigued by. You’ll be under my protection now. It’s as simple as that. I’m sure you won’t even consider running away from me, isn’t that right?” 

When he tilted his head, his black and red hair was so close that it brushed against your face. His nose practically in front of yours as you immediately shook your head. “I-I would never…!” 

“Good! Then it’s settled.” Lilia beamed as he took a step back, wiping off the crumbled brick dust off his hands as he laughed at your petrified form. “Scurry off now. Go tell the young master the news you’ve brought. Oh, and next time I see you, I expect to hear many jokes and I will be picking at your mind for every single tidbit of knowledge you’re hiding from me.” When you looked at him incredulously, he gave you a little wave with a wiggle of his fingers. His giggling was an unsettling reminder as he seemed to vanish around the corner. “I’ll be watching you!” 

After a few moments, you peeked behind the corner, both awed and slightly aghast to see he was completely gone. There wasn’t a single trace of him left. Rather, in his place was a certain knight. The loud one stood all the way at the other end of the hall, staring at you slack-jawed in furious disbelief. 

“You heard that, didn’t you…?” You sighed. 

“You…!!” Red-faced. He was flustered possibly with confusion and realization, the realization that this entire time he had been speaking with someone that didn’t belong. A human, yes, like he despised but worse, because this human didn’t belong at all. In an instant he was in your face, and you feared more for your eardrums than your life right now. “You, mortal, speak of affairs you know NOTHING about!!!” 

“That is true!” Hopefully no one was within the vicinity to hear him. 

Perhaps he was angry for a multitude of reasons. Lying to him, tricking people, making deals with the General, and overall still remaining ignorant of many things like why exactly did Malleus hate the King. However, it was probably because he knew you were taking advantage of the situation. A situation that was his reality, and very important to him, and he had overheard it all. “You have NO respect––!!” 

“That is also true!” Picking up your mask which Lilia had dropped on the floor, you brushed it off and added quickly before he could assault your eardrums again. “I didn’t ask to be sent here. What more do you want from me?” 

“Spare me your foul excuses, human!” Gnashing his teeth, you only now realize just how much sharper his fangs were than any other fae you had encountered thus far. It reminded you of a crocodile. “You are merely the Master’s pet, the role of the human whether you or someone else will remain constant! For some reason he sees you fit to bask in the glory of his presence, and I cannot even fathom as to why! The Master must find your human presence convenient besides just for basic intel, and for what those other purposes are, our minds can not even begin to comprehend his intentions! Although for what reasons he would want such an unsightly human is far beyond my understanding.” 

Placing your hand over your heart, you reeled back in offense as a hurt expression overtook your facial features. Forget the fact that he basically insinuated you were ugly. “Oww? Why so rude? I am many things but a pet is not one of them!” 

“Are you implying that you, a mere human, are on par with a fae such as I or even the great and mighty Malleus Draconia?” The knight gasped. “Why, the nerve of you, mortal!” 

Incredulously you squinted at him. Did all faes revere their sovereign to this insane degree, or was it just this one? Did he forget that you were his sovereign’s only human courier while he had many knights and soldiers at his disposal? “I’m not implying anything, but I’m just saying, look who has special privileges to go see your precious Master whenever I please. It’s me! Not you!” 

“Human––!!” 

As he clenched his fist, you dramatically gasped and waggled your finger. It was surprisingly fun to mess with him because it was so easy. “No, no, no. Wouldn’t want to hurt your Master’s only human courier when I carry important news, would you? I think he would be very unhappy if you did. You heard me talking with your General, I have a plan.” 

“You? Important news?” Sebek practically sneered. “You don’t mean to tell me you actually went to listen in on the comings and goings of the human kingdom instead of relying solely on your mystic knowledge? Tell me, do you really have a plan or is that one of your despicable lies again?”

“Yes, I did, actually.” There was no telling how successful you would be. Truthfully, you weren’t entirely sure where to go from here now that the plot had changed. The best bet would likely to still curse the Princess, and somehow get the Master of All Evil to consider sparing the Prince, but you would have to convince the Prince to not fight Malleus. Easier said than done. Silver seemed like the noble type, but if you could deceive him somehow so he wouldn’t rescue the Princess… “And I have… part of a plan. How hard can it be? I mean, I practically already charmed their prince! Although that part was fully unintentional.” 

“You…?” The knight didn’t seem too convinced, although there was a flicker of shock at the mention of charming a royal. “You seduced the human prince meant to wed the enemy king’s daughter? That prince? If you lie to me again, I will not forgive you twice!” 

After a brief pause, you shrugged and admitted, “I mean… I told a joke and he said he wanted to see me again––” 

“Debaucher!!” Sebek pointed accusingly, his face flush. Only now as his cheeks heated up did you notice he had the slightest trace of green scales hidden where his hair began. Weird. “I knew humans were vile and loathsome, but you…!” 

Despite his finger in your face, you actually cracked a grin. “You literally cannot call me anything worse than what I’ve called myself. And for the record, I just told him a joke and showed him the way through the human town. Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t get it twisted.” 

The fae appeared to be drawn deep in thought, holding his fingers to his chin, stroking the few scales near his neck as he actually considered your response. Or at least, for a moment he appeared to be doing that. “I don’t understand… Are humans so naturally deceptive or are they so senselessly blind to deceit playing right before their eyes? Perhaps it is both.” Just before you could reprimand him again for saying such things when you were literally less than two feet away from him, he began with a newfound sense of energy, as if reaching a profound realization. “I see! I believe I understand it now! It is because you are so disgustingly devious that the Master has decided to keep you around! Any human can be treacherous and shrewd, but it takes a truly depraved one to betray their own kind! So clearly, our human is superior to all others!” 

You stared at him hard, mostly speechless. What sort of mental gymnastics did he perform to come to that conclusion? Best not to question it, as he seemed like the type to stubbornly refuse defeat. “You know, if Malleus really wanted to––” 

“That’s Master Malleus to you, fiend!” Sebek rebuked sternly, apparently having no regard for the fact that he literally cut you off. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you replied sarcastically, “You know if Master Malleus really wanted to end things…” Pausing, you waited to see if he would interrupt you again, but he only grinned in satisfaction so you proceeded. “Why doesn’t he just, you know––” You slid your hand over your throat in a slicing motion. “––the Princess?” 

“The audacity of you, courier! How dare you make such an assumption?” Perhaps the suggestion was going too far. “The Master is a noble spirit, I do not know what sort of idea you have of him, but cease that affront at once! If you are to operate on behalf of our esteemed leader among the ranks of his knights, you must change your perspective of him. The Master is understanding and knowledgeable… I too once had a similar idea and asked him once, his response was that the objective of his curse was to cause the most suffering possible to those who have wronged him.” 

You piped up, “… I mean, I could do it just to put an end to things.” 

“No!! Did you not just hear me?” There was the flash of his fangs again, but he wasn’t out right snarling again. At least that was a good sign. Firmly he explained, “The Master doesn’t need your help in assassination! He is far more capable than just slitting one’s throat! With a flick of his finger, he could disarm an entire army! The Princess would stand no chance!” 

Motioning him to tone it down, you grimaced at his volume. There was no doubt in your mind that it was entirely possible that at least one person had overheard the conversation. It would be a miracle if no one had overheard any of the details at this point. “Let’s not talk about that super loud. You know, I still have to deliver the news.”

Pausing, Sebek opened his mouth, “Ah–– you are correct. That was negligent of me to take up your time when the Master is awaiting your presence.” Placing a hand on your shoulder, he squeezed slightly, and you noticed he had quite the nails and a powerful grip. The knight smiled, actually beamed with such sharp teeth. “Do not fret, courier. Although I find your mortal ways absolutely despicable, you will soon realize what a blessing it is to serve the Master! For now, you are my comrade, and I will help change your selfish desires!” 

Silently staring at him, astounded by his confidence and logic, the sarcastic comment slipped out as you looked straight into his eager sparkling eyes. Apparently he really believed he could really change your mindset. “I’m tearing up…” 

“I know, do not cry!” The sarcasm went completely over his head as he roped you in so you were shoulder-to-shoulder. Enthusiastically he continued, forcing you to walk along with him as he moved forward. “I understand, believe me, serving His Majesty is a wondrous thing! Do not be overwhelmed, even if it is very easy to get swept away by the glory of his mere presence, I am here to guide you! Together, we shall serve Master Malleus for many years to come!” After a few feet, his ironclad grip loosened enough for you to stumble a few paces forward out of his hold. “Go. We will begin tomorrow at dawn, and I will take it upon myself to enlighten you on all fae history and the biography of our esteemed leader! If you are late, I will simply track you down and force you to listen, I hope I have made myself clear enough!” 

Note to self, think of an excuse to get out of that tomorrow. Maybe lying and saying Malleus gave you some top secret important mission would be enough to get Sebek off your back. “Crystal clear. Now, if you’ll excuse me––” 

Before he could even think to begin again, you got out of there quickly. It was by asking servants did you hear that the fae king was in his study and apparently did not wish to be disturbed, probably due to the fact that he was likely bitter from the earlier disappointment about the whole cradle thing. 

“Malleus! Master Malleus!” Your fist pounded on the door. According to the servants, the general rule was to never ever bother the fae when his door was closed and especially when he was in a foul mood, but you were the exception as you brought reports. 

The door to the study where he was remained firmly shut for a few moments, until there was a wave of his hand and a green glow which unlocked the latch. Caving under your weight, the door flew open, nearly making you fall face first against the cold hard ground which caused you to shout in exclamation. 

Somehow you caught yourself, your fingers brushing against the ground but you remained on your feet for the most part. Quickly you recomposed yourself, still slightly flustered under the majestic fae’s menacing gaze. 

Malleus lifted his chin, his green-eyed gaze never leaving yours. It was another shock, a reminder, as you nearly forgot how frightening he was. Turning his attention away from the balcony, he watched you fumble about like a king would look upon their pitiful jester. “Well?” 

“Um… well…” Despite how many times you practiced your lines before arriving, your memory and any confidence went right off the balcony ledge overlooking the fae’s kingdom. When under the scrutiny of a magical being so ethereal yet so terrifying, it made your mind blank. “I, uh, saw stuff. Definitely saw things, and… uh…” Suddenly your mouth went dry, and words made no sense in your mind. If you focused on his midnight black hair, it made it possible to speak when you weren’t focused on his gaze. “So there was a Prince… very nice, mind you. Not so bad. He seems to want to think well of faes. Found him as I was walking around the kingdom, then he told me he was on the way to meet his future father-in-law, you know, the King? And then, well, I was in the woods when the strangest thing happened.” 

It was only by staring at his hair so long did you notice the odd features. The small black scales merging with his hairline, the unnatural smoothness of his hair without a single strand out of place, even his majestic horns appeared to glimmer in the light. It was easy to get distracted. 

“And… um… oh…! What I was saying is that there was a cottage, and its chimney was spewing this colorful magic.” That seemed to catch his attention, as his gaze which had begun to drift away immediately shifted when his eyes were suddenly transfixed on you and what you were saying. “Turns out, three peasant women live there with a girl exactly like the Princess.” 

“Like the Princess, you say?” The fae slowly turned towards the open balcony, where one could see the entirety of his domain which included those enchanted forests and moors. Past the wall of giant thorns protecting his land and people, in the very distance, it was possible to just barely make out the towering palace where the human royalty resided. A ghost of a wicked smile appeared on his lips. “Twenty years. I have made my old friend suffer for two decades, approximately a third of his short mortal lifespan. Last I heard from my previous courier, is that his Queen was on her deathbed from a terrible illness and the King was slowly going mad.” 

Previous courier… You should’ve expected this. Instantly you felt sick to your stomach. Did Lilia tell him? Or Sebek? But why? They promised! Didn’t they claim to detest liars? Your first instinct was to cover your face with your hands, as if being unable to see anything or hear him would make everything go away. But what good would that be? Sucking in the air through your teeth, you glanced upwards at the ceiling, praying for some sort of miracle or divine intervention. “They didn’t tell you, did they…?” 

“No, my General and knights keep their promises.” Placing a cold pale hand on your head, his fingers threaded carefully through your hair. Part of you expected him to just execute you here and now, turn you to stone himself for lying to him. “I’ve known since you awoke here. My General, Lilia, even gave you a hint. Twice. He had no need to tell me when I see through your eyes and hear through your ears. You see, I made that deal with the original. You took their role, and the curse remained in place.” 

You felt numb. This entire time, every single second, he had been there. Knowing. Listening and watching through your own senses. In. Every. Single. Moment. Nothing could be kept secret. What if he was in your very thoughts? No–– he would’ve mentioned that, wouldn’t he? 

“No, I cannot read your thoughts.” The timbre of his tone caused a shiver to travel up your spine as you straightened up, snapping out of your stupor. If he was telling the truth, which he must’ve been, then he was just very very good at reading others. “As powerful as I may be, I am not omniscient.” 

Carefully gazing up at him, you kept your head down and arms at your side, afraid he would just crush your skull between his digits. “That’s… embarrassing. You’re not, I don’t know, going to turn me into stone or something?” 

“I’m presuming that is the fate you fear is waiting for you at the end of this story.” Black nails curled along your strands of hair, his finger tracing down to your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut in awful anticipation. “Well, you need not fret. You have not told me any lies, you carried out your duty well, and found the Princess that my legion of knights couldn’t locate in twenty years. I would be a fool to turn you to stone.” So he could turn people to stone if he wanted to. “Besides, I find you quite amusing. It made me smile, knowing my enemies suffer and hearing your silly squabbling.”

Inwardly you cringed, recalling every little mistake you made since gaining consciousness in this world. Every stumble and fall, every scream or exclamation, the bickering with his precious knight, playing along with his General, joking with the very Prince that was destined to slay him! Even when you openly dealt with Lilia, openly bargaining with his life for some sort of ending that you could live with. Malleus was aware of each and every second. “Even for… you know, making that deal?” 

“No, I’m not cross.” Eventually his hand fell back to his side, as the malevolent fae continued to peer down at you. It felt wrong to even breathe within his vicinity. “It’s perfectly within human nature for mortals to claw their way towards redemption. The decisions you have made are primarily for yourself, saving me in the process is merely an unintended consequence. We both know this. Know that I am not shaken by your choice in the slightest. Trust me when I say that I know full well of the sins that humans are willing to commit for their own benefit. I know very well that humans will prioritize themselves over all others.” You felt small under his gaze, as he didn’t even blink once. The cool and collected tone of his became somewhat hushed as he mused, “You were destined to be here beside me, I believe. Perhaps as punishment…” 

Slowly you awkwardly nodded along, confirming his last words. “Well, yeah… I’m guessing you heard me say that earlier?” 

Neither acknowledging your response nor replying to it immediately, seconds of prolonged silence passed before he spoke. “That was not what I was referring to.” Instead of elaborating on what he truly meant by those words, he seemed to gloss over them as he continued. “Our fates are tied. Allow me to grant you salvation. Should you help me achieve my goal, I will protect you from the end you so fear. Should you try to save me as you have been doing thus far, I shall save you.” 

Instantly, without even thinking, you stuck your hand. This was earning you his protection, wasn’t it? You were practically under the guard of one of the most powerful beings in the world! Making deals with fae was supposedly a bad idea. However, you already made one deal. What’s the harm in one more? “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Slowly the fae blinked at your extended arm. “Well… I didn’t expect you to come to such a rapid decision. You continue to surprise me with your choices and human customs. A handshake, hm?” An amused smirk made its way onto his features, but it wasn’t ominous or threatening like the expression he wore when mentioning the King. When his hand reached yours, you half expected some mystical green light of magic to seal your fate. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the fae held your hand in a firm grip as he proceeded thoughtfully. “I will not ask personal questions, as you seemed quite adamantly against so much as mentioning your true name when my General asked. Although I must ask you to reveal your plan, besides charming the human Prince.” 

Maybe it was due to the fact that he knew your life was now practically intertwined with his, this provided any reassurance that you wouldn’t betray him along with the extra comfort that he heard and saw everything you do. At this point, personal information would be of little use to him. 

If you wanted your own happily ever after, it would require sabotaging the protagonists and changing the entire end of the story. As you considered your next words, you attempted to pull your hand away from his, only for his iron grip to never falter. “Ah, well, originally the Princess returns to the castle since the curse is almost expired. There, you’re supposed to appear in her chambers when she’s alone, and lure her towards a spinning wheel where she pricks her finger and fulfills the curse. Might I say, I would be very tempted too if I was the Princess and you appeared like that in my chambers–– Anyways! Around the same time, you capture the Prince as he went to the now abandoned cottage to meet with the mysterious girl, the Princess, he met in the woods earlier. But, I may have messed up that last part, ha…” 

After listening to your explanation, Malleus finally let go of your hand. Never did he disrupt, but he listened very very carefully, eyes boring into yours the entire time even as you nervously glanced away every few moments. “I see… It seems this human Prince, Silver, as he’s called, is quite naive. This truth can be said for most young mortals. I do find his hope for peace to be endearing, even if it seems like nothing but a fantasy.” 

Malleus knew about Silver. Of course he did. The fae was probably watching like a hawk as you interacted with the future son-in-law of his sworn enemy. It was a bit of a relief to hear that the fae sovereign didn’t see Silver as an immediate threat, for now at least. Now if only you could appeal to his greater nature, the kindness Sebek claimed his Majesty was capable of. “Maybe we can, possibly, now this is just a thought here–– spare him?” 

Malleus was silent for a long moment, and for a second you feared you may have upset him–– that is until the top of his scepter was against your chin. The smooth end with the cold orb glowing that ominous green, propped up your chin so you couldn’t look away. “Anyone that is willing to extend a hand to me or mine will be rewarded, but know this: I will never trust another human again, not fully. You are the one exception to this, my courier. So I expect you to answer the following. Who is the one that is destined to drive a sword through my heart?” 

That tone of voice sent a shiver throughout your entire body. Once again, you felt small, weak, helpless against the fae as he was peering down at you so intensely. It’s clear he wanted an answer, and he wanted it now. “The… uh… Prince–– but with the help of the three good fairies!” As if mentioning the three good fairies would help his case, now that the fae was fully aware that Silver was the one fated to slay him. 

“Now that does contemplate things. So, you implore me to spare the very mortal meant to end my life? That is quite the request.” Malleus mused, his scepter lowering from your neck as you felt you could finally breathe again. For a moment, the fae lowered his gaze in deep contemplation. It felt like hours of tense silence, as you wondered if he would be agitated that you would suggest such a thing. In reality, it was probably a full minute at most when he lifted his hand to his lower face in contemplation. “Those irritating little pixies will likely defy any orders from me in order to protect the Prince. The three alone are far too weak to do anything of significant value on their own… Is the Prince the only one who works against me?” 

“Technically, yes.” In the story, everyone was placed to sleep too by the three fairies, or pixies, or whatever they were in this rendition. The only one left awake was the Prince. “I think the only reason the Prince in the story stood a chance was because he had the help of the pixies. Everyone else is placed to sleep like the Princess.” 

Malleus nodded to himself, appearing to come up with some sort of arrangement to overcome the obstacles. “Then, I trust this task to you, my courier. While I appear in the Princess’ chambers to lead her to her terrible fate, General Lilia will be in charge of confronting the three pixies, and my Knight Sebek will be responsible for safely guarding you as you convince Prince Silver to abandon any notion of defending the Princess or the King.” 

Immediately your eyes widened, as you fumbled over your words, “Y-You want me to convince him to switch sides?” 

“Something along those lines, yes. The Prince will be of little use to them anyways. True love, the requirement to break the curse I placed upon the Princess, doesn’t exist. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, designed to give the King a sense of false hope so he would fall further into despair when his daughter never awoke. At least, she wouldn’t awake within his lifetime.” Malleus nodded in confirmation. Despite the heavy topic of the conversation that consisted of deceit and possible murder, the fae actually gave a smile. A teasing and wicked one as he hummed, “You wished for me to spare Prince Silver, did you not? This should be an easy task for you. As I recall you said earlier, you have already charmed the Prince. Perhaps I should be jealous of Silver, hm?” 

Why did you have to go and open your big mouth? Why did you have to try and be kind by wanting to save someone that was practically a stranger!? This was bad. Silver wouldn’t leave innocents like that. All you could do was lower your head in your hands and grumble, “I’ll… figure something out.” 

“I’m sure you will.” A deep laughter rumbled from his chest, and although you couldn’t see it, you were sure he was still wearing that smug grin. There was some sort of look in his eyes, something not so menacing, more endearing, but equally as chilling. “The last time I trusted a mortal with my life, it resulted in this entire debacle. I’m certain you won’t betray me as well, hm?” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The same evening, hours before the sun would set and the curse would be broken, you penned a short and brief letter to Silver. With a wave of his hand, Malleus’ magic whisked it away to be delivered instantly. The message was simple: Meet me at the moor’s borders by the wall of thorns as soon as you can. Signed, the courier. 

You still had no idea how you would go about convincing Silver to essentially abandon the King and Princess. While you were contemplating if it was even possible to save this person from facing Malleus’ wrath, you were not at all comforted when Lilia appeared downright delighted to be the one facing the three pixies. It was a tad bit concerning, especially since he went on about having not seen them properly in over two decades and how they had always been a pesky bunch that favored the humans over their own kin. You were not envious of the three in the slightest, especially when you caught sight of Lilia humming to himself as he polished his green cleaver to a brilliant shine. Those poor pixies would have to deal with the General. 

Sebek was hardly any better. While not outright threatening, he droned on and on about what a privilege it was to personally be assigned a task by His Majesty. Which made it difficult for you to keep calm when he spoke of Malleus every single minute, and made it almost impossible for you to focus on the task at hand. 

“––and so you see, because of that wretched human who betrayed Master Malleus to become the king of the human kingdom, our esteemed leader has been wary of all humans and their activities ever since then.” Sebek explained, gripping the reins as he led the way on horseback, with your steed not lingering too far behind. “So the fact that Malleus is willing to offer an olive branch towards the betrothed of the daughter of his enemy, is nothing short of a gift! A mercy granted to a human who likely isn’t worthy of such a thing.” 

As soon as they reached the thorns, the wall seemed to come alive as its vines and branches slithered like snakes. Creating a temporary path for them to pass through without risk of being impaled by giant thorns. Meaning one thing: Malleus was currently watching. 

“Okay then, since you understand how important that is, that means you know not to act out right? I know the Prince is human and all, and I know how you feel about humans, but let me do the talking.” You pleaded as both horses came to a halt right outside the towering barriers. 

“Tsk, please, I am not so uncouth to– OW!” 

Upon spotting a flash of white and silver through the foliage of the forest, you kicked part of the knight’s leg to shut him up. Before he could open his mouth again, you hopped off your horse and worked your way through the underbrush as you came to a small clearing. There, by the stream, was the Prince standing beside his own noble steed that drank from the clean waters. The backdrop of the forest and setting sun already dipping below the horizon, reminded you of how little time was left. 

The Prince must’ve picked up on the sound of rustling and crunching leaves, because he lifted his head towards the source of the noise. When his enchanting gaze met yours, he smiled such a gentle smile and took a step toward you. “Courier.” However, Silver paused, freezing in place as he looked a bit taken aback at the sight of the knight appearing at your side. A fae, a being he’s never met before. 

“Heyyy, Silver. This is my friend Sebek.” Awkwardly you gestured to the knight, giving the fae a look that basically said please, for the love of his Master Malleus, keep his mouth shut for now. “Sebek, this is Silver, local prince and prettiest human I’ve ever met.” 

Sebek looked anything but pleased. It was then you realized that this may have been his first time actually properly meeting a human, as the fae looked a bit uncomfortable. Instead of saying anything, the knight merely crossed his arms and managed a terse, “Pleasure.” Not even a full, it’s a pleasure to meet you. 

This didn’t deter the Prince, or perhaps it went entirely over his head, as he managed a regal nod. Despite the fact that his expression reverted to his usual apathetic nature, there was an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes. Maybe this would work out well after all. 

“It’s very nice to meet you. Any friend of the Courier’s is a friend of mine.” Silver appeared genuinely intrigued, pleased to meet a fae. Any shock melted away into a friendly demeanor as he approached, “I had to sneak out of the palace just to be here, but I’m very glad I did. Did you really remember my words and bring me here for this? I’m touched, Courier.” 

Part of you grimaced as you exchanged knowing looks with Sebek, who thankfully remained silent for now. The knight merely glanced back at the royal before looking back at you, and he gestured with his head as if saying go on. 

“Something like that.” You spoke, mustering a smile as Silver stopped so he was right in front of you and Sebek. Despite knowing that fae were labeled as enemies, Silver didn’t appear fazed in the slightest. That was bound to change as soon as you opened your mouth. Hey, so my boss is about to complete a curse on your fiancée that’ll put her to sleep for who knows how long and three pixies are bound to put the rest of the kingdom to sleep too while a fae General will prevent them from reaching you at all, but I’m gonna have to ask you to come with us if you want to live. You couldn’t just say that! Fumbling for some sort of response, you began awkwardly, “So… you wanted to meet some fae, right?” 

“Of course.” Silver replied immediately, giving Sebek the slightest smile as he spoke softly and sincerely. “It’s a great honor to have this opportunity. Perhaps by talking more with you, Sebek, and explaining to everyone that I met a fae and all went well, it can change their mind and cause some good to happen.” 

Sebek appeared a bit flustered, unaccustomed to praise from a mortal as the knight looked at you for some sort of support. Probably not even expecting it. Quickly, you interjected, “That is great, because I have the perfect opportunity for you. I never told you, because, well, interacting with fae is generally frowned upon by humans but I happen to know the Malleus! I bet I can even get you an audience with him.” 

“You would do that for me?” The Prince’s eyes widened, his naturally soft voice raised ever so slightly. 

“Excuse us!” Sebek’s eyes widened in alarm as he covered his mouth, hissing in your ear as he pulled you away, “What are you doing, you presumptuous fool…?! This was not part of the strategy outlined by the General! You are supposed to convince the human to join us willingly!” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you exclaimed quietly, “I am…!” Looking over at Silver, you could see the Prince was puzzled but was respectful and kept his distance. Those eyes of his looking up at the nearby wall of thorns as he waited patiently to be included in the conversation. “Look, he’ll thank me later. He’ll come with us because he wants to speak to Malleus, he thinks he can build diplomatic relations. Let him think that! As long as the pixies can’t get to him, Silver isn’t a real threat to Malleus. Hell, we can even convince Lilia to take him in, I really don’t care, as long as he doesn’t interact with the pixies.” 

“That’ll hardly be an issue. Knowing General Lilia, he’s likely thoroughly dealt with the pixies. They’ve been a thorn in the Master’s side for over a century.” Sebek straightened his posture, folding his arms behind his back as he lifted his chin to appear taller. “Just remember, I am your ally. He is not.” 

“Whatever.” Perhaps this was better. If Lilia had permanently dealt with the pixies, then there was no one else to use magic and bless the Prince with a holy sword and shield. There was no other way to defeat The Master of All Evil. It was practically game over, wasn’t it? Turning back to Silver, just as you opened your mouth to speak, a deep and familiar voice echoed from behind you. 

“My courier, is this the Prince you’ve spoken so highly about?” 

You felt your heart drop as Sebek dropped to his knees in a reverent kneel, and even Silver appeared taken aback by the sudden presence of the being that appeared feet away from you. Looking over your shoulder, there he was, hidden in the shadows cast by the trees. You took a step to the side, careful of Sebek, as you made room for The Master of All Evil. When did he get there? “Yeah–– Yes, it is.” 

Malleus approached, seeming to float as he walked, his robes blending in with the shadows that grew longer and the sky darker as the sun had completely set. Why was he here already? Was it done? Had he actually completed the curse on the Princess in such a short time? A realization came to you, which made you freeze. Surely Silver knew how Malleus cursed his fiancée. 

Stepping closer, the fae appeared to take in the sight of the Prince. Silver leaned back a bit, surprised, but seemingly unafraid. They were complete opposites. Silver appeared to embody light and virtue as he was like a warm spring day, while Malleus embodies the cold darkness like the depths of space that swallowed everything in its path. “My courier tells me you wish to establish peace. Such a lofty goal, I’m afraid, but inspiring. Do you not fear me for what I’ve done? You were there that day, as I recall.” 

“I was hoping to ask you to lift the curse.” Silver glanced at you, before returning his attention back to the fae. Despite the fact that he was in front of a being countless times older than him and far more powerful than anything on Earth, the Prince continued, “It’s true, I also want to establish relations. I believe it can do good for both our peoples. But first, my concern is the curse. Although I haven’t truly met the Princess I’m supposed to wed, I’d like to appeal for the curse to be lifted. She is innocent.” 

“What a noble request. Very well, we’ll talk.” Malleus straightened his stance, standing tall even above the Prince. Exchanging a glance with you, there was a knowing glint in his green eyes as he then commanded, “Sebek, rise. Escort our guest, gently, my knight. Gently.”

Silver appeared quick to believe Malleus, perhaps truly hoping that he would be able to make peace with the fae and get that terrible curse lifted. When the knight stood up to lead the way for the Prince, Silver paused to spare a look over his shoulder as he led his steed along. When his gaze landed on you, you witnessed his entire demeanor soften as he managed a grateful nod. It made you feel a pang of guilt. 

Only once the Prince and Knight had disappeared past the wall of thorns, did Malleus turn to you and admit with a flicker of amusement. “Quite the peculiar human you found, my courier.” 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” You note, taking notice of the twinkle in his glowing eyes and the ominous smile on his face that had yet to falter. That had to mean something. Normally he was unsmiling, so it was jarring to see him like this. “Don’t tell me you already…?” 

“I did.” Malleus confirmed with a brief nod, looking quite pleased with himself. 

The confirmation only made you shudder. You knew it would happen. Still, there was a bit of regret you felt deep within your bones. Although, surely it couldn’t be that bad. It’s not like the Princess was murdered. It was just a deep sleep where she would wake up in the future. “And what do you plan to do with Prince Silver?” 

“I told him we would talk. That is the truth. However, I never said I would lift the curse.” A moment passed, and then he proceeded, watching as the thorns slithered back into place to create that impenetrable barrier protecting his lands. “Since you failed to truly convince him, you merely tricked him into stepping into foreign territory, I’ve conjured a suitable alternative. Allowing him to roam within the moors and enchanted forest has little consequence when General Lilia had took it upon himself to rid the world of those three pixies before they could place the human kingdom to sleep. That way, their King will be awake to anguish and mourn his loss, and yet he will find no one to appease his distress. There are not any other magic users that would be willing to act in favor of the Prince or Princess for the King.” In the cold wind, strands of his pitch black hair fluttered and the emerging moon cast a heavenly sort of glow. “The Prince wanted to meet the fae, so let him. He’ll stay. Should he begin to act out, enchantments could be used to make him forget all things troubling him.” 

“You’d let him stay as a guest…? Really?” That was shocking, considering that in the story, the Prince was kept as a temporary prisoner in a dungeon with heavy chains and stone cold walls trapping him underneath the ground. However, maybe his current fate wasn’t so different from that if enchantments would be used to keep him confined within fae territory. “You know what, nevermind, that makes sense.” 

“Hmm… in addition, I thought the human prince would serve as a good distraction. The General finds human nature to be more accepting of his attempts at humor, the Knight seeks a rival in strength which the Prince is capable of. It seems like a natural fit.” 

With a curl of his finger, some invisible force dragged you closer to him, despite your squirming, it didn’t stop until you were an inch apart and his shadow loomed over yours. Those glowing green eyes that were the bane of many, leered down at you. 

“Which allows you to spend more time with me and solely me. I was betrayed once by a human before, I’m sure you’ve figured this out already. This time, it shall not happen again, I have made sure of it. As naive as you may be, I know you are not so foolish to ever turn on me, especially upon seeing the extent I go to in order to exact revenge upon those who wronged me… So, for your loyalty, I will reward you with lavish riches, wondrous glory, and my undivided attention. Is there anything else your heart desires, my Precious Courier?”

[heritageposts]

Since the beginning of the genocide in Gaza in October, Israeli soldiers have been posting what can only be described as snuff videos on social media platforms. In the videos, soldiers can be seen – often gleefully – committing war crimes against Palestinians. In one video, an Israeli soldier dressed in a dinosaur costume loads artillery shells into a tank and dances as the shells are fired in the direction of Gaza. In another video, a soldier is filmed dedicating an explosion to his two-year-old daughter for her birthday. Seconds later, a Palestinian residential building behind him is blown up. Other videos show Israeli soldiers setting alight Palestinian food supplies during a starvation campaign and mocking stripped, rounded-up and blindfolded Palestinian civilians. [...] And there is another aspect of Israeli impunity that is often overlooked: Israeli soldiers routinely admit to horrific crimes they commit against the Palestinians to clear their conscience and absolve themselves of personal responsibility but never face any accountability. Israelis themselves describe the practice as “yorim ve bochim”, which translates from Hebrew as “shooting and crying”. A favourite pastime of the Zionist left, it takes centre stage in dozens of Israeli films and documentaries. Take the widely celebrated film Tantura, named after a Palestinian fishing village that was subjected to a massacre in 1948. In this film, several Israeli veterans talk with ease about the fact that they killed hundreds of Palestinian civilians. Others openly admit to participating in ethnic cleansing, yet all are portrayed as complicated individuals who are traumatised by the trauma they inflicted on Palestinians. “Yorim ve bochim” is also epitomised in the work of the Israeli NGO Breaking the Silence. A darling of the liberal West, the organisation of Israeli army veterans tries to expose the reality of the “Occupied Territories” by providing a space to Israeli soldiers to confidentially recount their experiences in the Israeli army and at times admit to taking part in systematic abuse and destruction. The testimonies on its website make for incredibly difficult reading, particularly in this moment when we are seeing what is happening in Gaza. And yet nowhere does this organisation call for accountability or address what justice might look like for the Palestinians whom the soldiers they work with have systematically abused over decades. The reality is that over the last seven and a half decades, there has been complete impunity for brutalising and slaughtering Palestinians. The ongoing genocide in Gaza and the way in which it is being so brazenly shared on social media by the perpetrators is a manifestation of that impunity. The only way to make sure that it stops and never happens again is to hold not only those who have taken part in the genocide accountable but also those who are complicit.

. . . continues on al jazeera (24 Jan, 2024)

[sailoryuns]

TEACHER’S PET ─── SJY

summary: it’s all fun and games making your professor get all flustered by your actions, until he actually does something about it and reminds you who’s the real one in charge.

genre. sim jaeyun x f!reader | college au, teacher x student

warnings. smut, age gap (9 year difference), daddy/sir kink, hand kink (i love jake’s hands what can i say), fingering, oral (m. rec), unprotected s*x (whoopsies), hitting from the back, spanking, breeding, light degradation, use of pet names (kitten, baby, doll, etc), slight possessive!jake?? if you blink wc -> 2.8k

you knew exactly what you were doing trying to provoke your professor the other day. it’s a little game you like to play with him, watching him get all hot and bothered in public places knowing he couldn’t do a single thing about it. that’s why you wore the tiniest, micro skirt you could find in your closet— which barely covered anything, you’ll flash someone if you bent over even the slightest.

during class when mr. sim asked everyone to come and grab their test result papers from his desk, he called your name out trying his best not to make it so painfully obvious that he was staring at your body. you drove him insane the first day he laid his eyes on you, fully obsessed and captivated by your ethereal beauty. he almost moaned out loud when he saw you bend down to pick the test paper up, “accidentally” dropping it when you turned around, giving him the view of a fucking lifetime.

he was so going to make you pay for that next time he saw you. as much as he wanted to just say fuck it and ruin you straight after class was over, he had some important matters to take care of. fortunately for him when he sees you again he’ll have much more time on his precious hands. more time to have his way with you and punish you for all the sins you were about to make him commit.

he thought all the little tricks you had up your sleeve were finished, but not just yet. thinking you couldn’t get any more bold than wearing that tight, short skirt, you came to class wearing a plain white button up top, but it had some alterations to it. you tied the ends into a knot, making it into a cute crop top, also leaving most of the top buttons undone and the collar flared out. the outline of the hot pink bra you wore underneath could be visibly seen with lace detail peeking out from the opening of the shirt. he also noticed something… you changed your belly jewelry. the one you had before was a simple silver barbell with a heart gemstone, but the one you wore today had a diamond playboy bunny dangling at the end.

this game of yours isn’t funny anymore, it’s pure torture at this point. your presence was enough to take his mind into unthinkable places, doing everything in his power to get through this hour lecture without stuttering or faltering his words. even some of the students were noticing his sudden change in behavior, usually he spoke in a sophisticated, eloquent manner but today he was acting noticeably different.

“what’s up with mr. sim? he’s talking super fast and not as calm and collected as usual.” your classmate aria voices her concerns next to you, not knowing a single clue that you were the cause of it. you were making it extra hard on him too, staring at his beautifully crafted face while seductively sucking on a cherry lollipop.

every time he’d look over at you you’d make sure to twirl your tongue around it, foreshadowing what you’ll be doing to him later on. thank god the room was dark besides the projector, he would’ve been extremely embarrassed had someone seen the massive boner he was sporting under his slacks. you were getting such a kick out of making him a flustered mess, not caring of the repercussions that’ll come with it later, you’ll end up enjoying it anyway.

it’s absolutely unfair that he couldn’t wrap his hands around your pretty neck, push you up against the wall and fuck you senseless like the dirty slut you are. he will in due time though, it’ll all be worth the wait in the end..

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔ���˚₊‧⁺˖

once class was over, as usual there’d be a line of girls waiting to speak with mr. sim. most of their questions didn’t even pertain to the actual lecture, they just wanted to say they had a conversation with him. he was quite the ladies man and very popular among campus, he was mostly known for just being that really hot english professor everyone wanted to fuck though.

“awww, i was hoping you’d stay a little longer so we could talk more!” an annoyingly cheerful female student says to him, trying to act all cute and nonchalant by twirling her hair around but failing miserably.

“me too! i need some help on starting my thesis mr. sim, could you maybe give me a private session on how i should go about writing it?” another hopeless girl chimes in to ask, her voice was so nasally you wanted to cover your ears with both hands. these girls will throw themselves at him like it’s a brothel but you didn’t need to do any of that, he was waiting specifically for you and no one else.

“sorry girls but i’ve got other important plans after this that needs my immediate attention. i’ll see you all next class but please get going, it’s getting late!” his eyes never left yours as he said that, no one in this room mattered to him besides you.

you could tell the female students gathered around him were devastated, most of them pouting and trudging away in sheer defeat. it was laughable how they still try making advances all just to get politely rejected. you wouldn’t say it inherently makes you jealous, but their obnoxiously tone deaf behavior was enough to turn your mood sour.

you head towards the exit but his voice halts your movement any further, clearing his throat before gaining your attention, “ahem, excuse me miss.”

it didn’t take much for you to realize he was calling after you, who else would he be talking to? some of the others girls turned around to see if he was addressing them but he shooed them away to leave. he went feral the minute your gaze landed in his direction, subtly licking his lips while looking down at your perfect cleavage.

if he doesn’t fuck you and dump all his cum in you sooner or later he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.. once he could see that everyone’s left, he wasted absolutely no time doing what he’s been fantasizing about for days. an ominous smirk forming across his lips as he backs you up against the door, fully shutting it with both of your body weight combined.

“mr. sim what’re you doing—” “shut up.”

before you could even get another word out his large hand is wrapped around your throat, crashing his lips into yours without any warning. he kisses with so much force and energy, stroking the left side of your face with his free hand. the placement around your neck disappears once he travels down to your chest, roughly cupping one of your breasts, kneading it through your shirt. pulling away for a moment, a long string of saliva connecting both your lips from his wet, sloppy kissing.

“fuck.. been waiting to do this shit again for so long… also what did i say about you speaking formally to me outside of class? i’m only jaeyun, daddy, or sir when no one’s around.” the strict tone of his voice instills an inexplicable sense of fear within you, having little to no idea what he’s capable of or what he’s even thinking on doing next.

˖⁺‧₊˚ᰔᩚ˚₊‧⁺˖

jaeyun had the most gorgeous hands you’d ever seen, the visible veins showing and his beautifully tanned skin was enough to make you go crazy. he noticed you staring at them too, viciously smiling at himself once an idea struck his mind, “open.” you didn’t hesitate to obey his order, mouth inviting two of his fingers to take in, eagerly sucking on them as you look into his eyes. he would never tell you this but watching you do this alone could simply make him combust, he doesn’t have to ask twice for you to do anything, you’re his perfect little sub.

“fuck, keep going.” jaeyun’s low groans make you even wetter as you continue sucking on his long, veiny fingers, staring at him all innocently knowing damn well you’re about to get fucked like no tomorrow. a slight moan slips out as you bob your head up and down, making his cock twitch from the vibrations going up his spine.

“you like my fingers, baby?” his head tilts to the side in amusement, loving the obscene view in front of him.

“mhmm,” you nod with your mouth stuffed full of his digits, taking them in deeper as you would his cock.

“everything you do is so fucking hot… how are you even real.” he husks, biting his lip at your filthy actions. your saliva coats his fingers deliciously when he detaches from your mouth, loving the way your chin is covered is glistening with drool.

he drags his hands down lower to reach the hem of the pleated skirt you were wearing, hiking it up to gain further access. your heart almost stops when you feel him slide your panties to the side, letting out a high- pitched sound when he sinks those same two digits from your mouth into your soaking cunt.

“nngghh, daddy,” your voice becomes shaky as his fingers slide into your wet folds, hearing the sweet sounds your arousal makes. your hips involuntarily grind against his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he feverishly rubs your clit while fingering you.

“i want you to suck my cock so i can cum all over that pretty face of yours, if do that for me i’ll make sure you get straight A’s the rest of this semester. sound like a deal my sweet kitten?” he already knew you were going to agree, you needed to pass this class in order to graduate and what better way to get an easy A than to fuck for it? you were willing to do just about anything it took to please jaeyun.

“y-yes sir.” you comply right away, whining from the sudden emptiness as he pulls his fingers out, bringing them up to his lips as he sucks off the juices.

“mmm.. tastes like heaven.” he will truly never get enough of you, ever.

you quickly drop to your knees to undo his belt and unbutton his pants, greedily licking your lips as you finally get to suck him off. jaeyun instantly fell in love with you when you gave him head for the first time, he’s never wanted any other woman to touch him since. you were the only one who’s ever been able to get him to cum just from sucking his cock alone. as you slide his briefs down his member springs out with a small bead of pre-cum leaking out. your lips kiss his pinkish-red tip, dipping your tongue out to lick it up.

his cock flinched at any little slight stimulation, he didn’t jerk off or anything since that day he saw you in that tight mini skirt, wanting to save all of it just for you. opening your mouth wider to take his full length, your eyes begin watering when the end of his shaft hits the back of your throat.

“already taking it all so well like the good little whore you are. look so fucking hot like that with your mouth full of my cock.” his hands grab fistful of your hair, pulling hard as he forces more of himself down your throat.

you gag and choke a bit from his hips rutting into you, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking his cock as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do on earth. giving all your efforts to please him, looking up with bright, big eyes while you deepthroat. your pussy was uncomfortably wet, you could feel your slick leaking past your thighs. moaning as you continue bobbing your head up and down, feeling him throbbing in your warm mouth from the sensations.

“yeah baby… just like that keep going.. fuck…” jaeyun swung his head back in pleasure, pulling your hair tighter as he feels himself getting close.

you could sense he was close too by his erratic movements, and you know exactly how to get him to cum. you collect more saliva as much as you could to make it even messier and sloppier, some of it almost dripping from the corners of your mouth as you kept going. he felt like the end was nearing for him, seeing flashes of white as he grunts loudly, bucking his hips up in a frenzy.

“you’re gonna make me cum… better swallow of all of it like a good fucking girl.” you nod, feeling him pulsate even more in your mouth, hallowing your cheeks around the base as you send him to a higher state of pleasure. the back of your throat gets hit with shots of hot cum, milking every last bit of him until you know for sure he’s done.

“you truly have no idea what you do to me y/n, do you?” he pants while trying to catch his breath, looking down at the beautiful mess he’s created.

“i swallowed it all daddy, look.” you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue to show him it was all empty.

“did such a good job for me, you deserve a reward.” jaeyun couldn’t wait to finally have his cock inside of you, it’s been long overdue..

“bend over,” jaeyun orders you again, doing as you’re told, you get up from your knees towards the desk with your face down and ass up in the air.

“fucking love this ass so much.. god, you’re so fucking perfect.” he grunts, tightly gripping onto your hips and squeezing your ass, he couldn’t stop biting his lip at how sexy your body was. your body jerks involuntarily when you feel a harsh slap to your right butt cheek, hard enough to leave a handprint on your delicate flesh. you’d usually cry out but you’ve gotten so used to it, you’re so unbearably wet that you can’t wait for him to ruin you with his huge cock.

“ahhh! daddy…” you whimper once he slides his length inside, not even bothering with going slow he slams his hips right into you. keeping both hands steady on the desk you do your best not to scream, you were still in a public classroom and other people could hear if you were being too loud.

“fuckkk…” jaeyun’s mind drew blank as he buried himself fully into your cunt, ramming his cock into you with brash movements. his pace rough and fast, slapping your ass some more as his strokes get deeper. a moaned so loud at one point you thought someone definitely heard that, jaeyun was pissed. if word ever got out that he was fucking a student he’d lose his job in a heartbeat, he forcefully covers your mouth with his hand, muffling all your moans as he fucks you harder.

“you want me to get caught because your dumbass wanted to scream out like a slut? be fucking quiet or i’ll punish you even harder than i’m already doing.” his degrading words made you feel so inferior, so small compared to him, but he was right, you needed to shut the fuck up or else your little secret will get out.

your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning up from the inside as he slides half his length out and pushes it back in. he repeats this actions a few more times then fully buries it inside you again, making you do nothing but clench around him.

“mmpphh, think i’m gonna cum again doll,” jaeyun’s hands slip from your mouth to play with your clit, “where do you want me to cum, baby?” he already knows your answer, he just loves to hear you say it.

“inside sir… need you inside..” you shamelessly beg, throwing your ass back against him to match his movements.

“your belly’s gonna be so full of my cum, gonna drain every last drop of it into this pretty little cunt… you belong to me and me only.” all you did was nod your head ferociously at his dirty talk, hoping for the love of god that he’ll give you exactly what need.

his movement staggered when you fluttered around him, feeling a knot untie in his stomach that made him unleash everything. he was so far gone, nothing mattered to him besides spilling his release in you, and once he hit a certain spot it was over him. his motion stilled as he finally reaches his climax, mouth hanging agape while pumping all of his hot cum into you. you came quickly after, panting and breathing heavily from how good he just fucked you. jaeyun was happy with the results as he pulled out, watching the cream seeping out of your used and abused hole. you were so undeniably sexy and it made him even more obsessed with you.

“baby.. you’re going to be the death of me one day, i’m sure of it.” he whispers sweetly, body collapsing on top of yours from pure exhaustion.

- 完 ♡︎

[kashverse]

𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men 

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one” slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate. 

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed. 

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

[esote-rika]

the memory of your lips | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Flangst. Summary: At the end of a great date, you have to deal with the realities of dating a BAU agent. Content: Mentions of alcohol, reader is tipsy and flirty and LOVESICK, Spencer is a gentleman, kisses, no use of y/n, reader is called angel. I had s3 or 4 Spencer in mind when I was writing, but it works for any season.  Word count: 1.4k A/N: Here’s the fic for the Lovesick by Laufey (listen to it right here, PLEASE I BEG!!!) poll I did a while back. I know I originally planned for it to have smut, but I opted out because it didn’t feel right with the tone??? Anyways, this was just really fun to write, and I hope you enjoy! 

Three dates are an embarrassingly short amount of time to have fallen in love with someone, but in your defense, you have not encountered anyone quite like Spencer Reid in all your years of dating. 

Never have you met a man so intensely focused and attentive, so intelligent without any hint of pretense. His arrogance is founded, but he never used his genius to make you feel less; instead, he’s committed everything you’ve told him to memory, from your favorite book to the throwaway comment you made about liking a specific shade of lipstick. Two dates and he’s already memorized you like a poem. It’s exhilarating. 

This third date had been the one to seal the deal. 

Sure, the anxiety is still there, and it might have caused you to have one too many glasses of wine over dinner, but still. Everything had gone so beautifully. A stroll around the art gallery where Spencer had eagerly shared the history behind the paintings. When you’d paused at a particular hallway, he stood right by a window and was hit just so by the golden afternoon sun that his eyes turned to the color of moss, you could have sworn you’ve forgotten the ability to breathe. You’re convinced you were the walking equivalent to the heart eyes emoji at that point, staring up at him with a starry gaze, all throughout the following dinner at an intimate restaurant, where you allowed yourself to indulge in some wine. 

Not that you needed it. At that point, you felt so relaxed and at ease with him that you were afraid you might float away. The alcohol only served to heighten the giddiness, casting the world in soft hues of sparkling gold. Like Spencer’s eyes. Which reminds you—

“You’ve the prettiest eyes,” You’re giggling as he walks you to your door, a lean arm firmly wrapped around your waist  to steady you. Head angled up, all of your attention is on him while you walk up the stairs, which isn’t helping your stumbling gait in the slightest. 

Despite his attempts to fight it, a small smile pulls at his lips. He’s obviously trying to seem stern, but his eyes look upon you with fondness. “I should have cut you off sooner.”

“Mhm, no, I wouldn’t have let you.”

“You’re gonna feel this tomorrow,” he warns as he stops at your doorstep, “Keys.”

You fumble through your purse, quickly locating them and pressing the keys into his palm. He slots it easily into the lock, and turns. 

He hesitates. Your hands shake as you wait.

“Can I trust you to make it to your bed in one piece?” he murmurs, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Probably not. You might need to help me out,” you whisper, even though you’re not really that drunk. It’s a (very thinly veiled) attempt to get him inside your apartment, in your bed. You’re not sure where you got the confidence.

But it’s Spencer, the sweet man who frequents the same bookshop in which you also spend a lot of time. The same man who’d been so shy about making a move that he decided to buy you a book and slip his number into the pages. 

So there’s no pressure, he had scrawled in messy, rushed letters. Embarrassingly, the note is in your wallet, kept as a memento.

It’s him, and the entire date has been a series of signs that simply validated the small (massive) crush you’ve had on him. You don’t want it to end yet. Or ever, really. If he’d let you keep him forever. 

Ever the gentleman, he nods and guides you inside. You stumble onto your couch with a low groan, an arm flung over your eyes as the harsh overhead light flickers open. Quick, shuffling footsteps, and then the couch dips beside you.

“Here, have some water.”

You accept the glass with a lopsided smile. The way his eyes linger on you would be enough to make you melt when you’re sober, but right now, with alcohol coursing through your veins, it’s downright cruel. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

“You’ve mentioned that already,” he says, urging you to drink, “Thank you. You have very beautiful eyes too.”

Once the glass is empty, he sets it on your coffee table and kneels down. With gentle hands, he eases the heels off of your feet, fingers pressing into the ankles carefully. 

“Come on,” he helps you to your feet, and you all but become deadweight in his arms as he walks with you to your bedroom. 

Spurned mainly by alcohol, you lift yourself to your tiptoes for a kiss. His surprise makes him pause, but he kisses you back gently, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. It makes you sigh, this tender way he likes to kiss, cradling your face as though it’s the most important thing he’s ever held. When your tongue sweeps across his lower lip, he pulls back.

“What—”

“You’re drunk,” his lips move to your forehead, “You need to sleep.”

“But Spence…” it’s childish to whine when he denies you, but it’s the only thing your dejected, alcohol-addled brain is capable of doing.

He chuckles, slowly walking you backwards onto your bed. “No, angel, it wouldn’t sit right with me.”

“I’m giving you all my consent right now.” you pout as he hands you a disposable towel from your bedside table. With a huff, you set on wiping away your makeup as he rummages through your drawers for pajamas. He finds some shorts and an old tshirt, and helps you out of your dress, shaking his head as you try (and fail) to seduce him into sleeping with you.

“Shouldn’t have had that last glass if this was how you wanted the night to end.” he says,  a teasing smile on his lips.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

He kisses your temple as a response, and gently pushes you to lay down. Chuckling, he sits on the edge of your bed, a hand on your knee. “I just don’t want you to be inebriated if we’re going to be physically intimate. Especially not the first time.”

You pout, “Boo, you’re too sweet for your own good.” It earns you a laugh from him, and it’s enough to wipe the pout off your lips, “Will you at least sleep over?”

He seems to consider it, running his hand up and down your thigh. However, it is as though the universe is conspiring against you, and his phone rings. You watch as his brows furrowed in concern as he checks whatever message he’s received. “I have to go in, we have a case.”

Your heart drops. The pout returns, “It’s Friday night.”

“I know, angel.” he leans forward and kisses your forehead again, almost in apology, “I’m sorry, I did tell you I don’t work traditional hours.”

Your hands close around his shirt and you pull him down. He surrenders to your eagerness this time, kissing you deeply, hands tangled in your hair, before he stops, breathing ragged. “I’ll make it up to you when I return, I promise.” he kisses you again, languidly, savoring the last few moments before he has to leave. 

You don’t have his eidetic memory, but you memorize the feeling of his lips all the same. “Stay safe,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, feeling oddly sobered up now that the reality of him leaving you is more present, “Text me when you can.”

“I will, angel.” he gives you one last kiss on your forehead before he stands up, “Drink lots of water tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, and stare at his retreating back with a sad smile, blinking away the tears when you hear your apartment door click into place, signaling his departure. You try to tell yourself you’re being silly. It’s been three dates and you’re already acting so clingy. You chalk it up to the alcohol, twisting your feelings. Earlier, it had made the world seem effervescent, but now that he’s left, it only exacerbates your loneliness.

Is this how it’s going to be when you date him? He’d laid it out quite clearly during your conversations, that sometimes they get pressing cases that require them to drop everything else.  You aren’t sure you’re prepared to have dates be interrupted with one phone call. Morning afters without him beside you. With a sigh, you sink into bed, eyes closed, and only the memory of his lips to tide you through the night.

[luvth0t]

NEED ME? ━ L.N

in which you’re on vacation with your ex boyfriend, the only man who’s been able to make you cum in recent times.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, eavesdropping, cocky lando, ex lovers, conversations of masturbation and inability to orgasm, hair pulling, oral both receiving, overstimulation, praise, slight degradation, choking ect.

it was a throw away question. one lando probably shouldn’t have brushed off.

“you’re sure you’re fine with her coming?” max had asked so casually despite it being on this tip of his tongue for the last hour, eyes not lifting from his phone to see the way lando looked at him with raised eyebrows.

the driver said your name in confusion, even chuckled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?” lando followed; a rhetorical question. he knew why max was asking such thing.

he watched as max shrugged, hummed mindlessly as if he didn’t have a response prepared.

“wouldn’t catch me wanting to share a roof with my ex,” max mused; putting his phone down and finally meeting lando’s eyes, glare more so, quick to put his hands up in defence. “just saying. something to think about,” max quickly added.

he had his best friends best interest at heart.

“so what? we tell her she can’t come?” lando scoffed, shaking his head as he leant back into the seat he was occupying. “we’re friends. hasn’t been an issue before.” lando dismissed.

and he wasn’t lying. you’d broken up almost a year ago, which was concerning at first considering you shared the same friend group. were friends before lovers.

but it worked, you’d remained friends. saw each other every now and then, in a group setting. you weren’t as close, obviously, but it wasn’t awkward.

“no i know,” max huffed; even rolling his eyes. “maybe two villa’s is something to think about, that’s all.” max shrugged once more. he wasn’t just thinking of lando, but you as well, his other dear friend.

the brit shook his head, not giving in to the worry max seemed to hold. “not necessary. no different than being at the same hotel.” lando concluded.

he’d seen you on nights out, had conversations with you on boats; you still got an invite and paddock pass to his home race.

there was nothing to worry about. if you two weren’t capable of being friends, such thing would’ve been exposed.

that’s what lando thought anyways.

standing on the deck of a ten bedroom villa in the south of france however, he realised maybe he should’ve considered max’s words more carefully.

small doses of you seemed to differ from your constant presence.

the break up was civil, lando was grateful for such thing. it’d been him who ended things, purely because he felt as if he couldn’t give you the time you deserve. it was a cop out, he feared, realising things were almost too good between the pair of you.

he wasn’t sure he could commit to putting you through a relationship where you wouldn’t get the time and treatment you deserved.

you took it well, an angel in fact; you wanted to hate him for it. but you couldn’t bring yourself too. selfless enough to put the peace of your mutual friends and him first. plus, losing him entirely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you’d mourned the relationship, cried in private and cursed him to your best friend; and moved on. well, appeared to have.

it went unspoken, amongst the group; in front of you two at least, and between you two as well. not exactly something you were ready to laugh at yet. it just seemed to go… unaddressed.

until it was night two, dinner at a fancy restaurant with maybe a few too many bottles of wine meant piling into ubers to get back to the villa.

it sort of just happened, lando shuffling into the car behind you; leaving you in the middle of him and max; pietra on max’s lap and tom in the front.

your senses were consumed of him immediately, not able to avoid him considering you were practically pressed into his side in an attempt to give pietra enough room.

you glanced up at him once, smiling sheepishly to see his eyes already on you.

“you still wear it,” lando hummed casually, pinky finger reaching to brush over the bracelet he’d bought you a few months into your relationship, grazing your wrist as he did so.

your cheeks went a shade of pink at the observation, and if it weren’t for the fact you were wine drunk you probably would’ve made up an excuse as to why the piece of metal still found it’s way onto your wrist everyday.

“it’s my favourite,” you replied; glancing down at the piece as your hand moved to fiddle with it, small smile playing on your lips.

you missed the grin spread on lando’s face, a sense of pride fulfilling him as he recounted the stress it had caused him just picking out the damn bracelet. he was relieved to see you still wearing it, for some reason.

“i’ve got good taste.” lando bragged, eyes practically begging for yours to meet his again; smiling in amusement when they did as you nudged him.

you were suddenly even more aware of the closeness, the way your knees were touching, how his arm had stretched to rest over the headrest behind you. it was forced proximity sure, but an odd sense of familiarity that you hadn’t felt in a while was accompanying it.

“most of the time,” you mused, earning a nudge back ━ which had a giggle escaping you, one you attempted to hush; not wanting to draw attention to you and lando’s conversation.

if it did, the others in the car would’ve seen the way lando’s face lit up at the sound. he hadn’t made you laugh like that in months, he’d forgotten how good it felt to do so.

he’d almost forgotten how easy you were to be around. how easy it was to fall for you in the first place.

it was as if the universe was punishing him for such thing, because suddenly you were all he could think about once more.

that night, he was simply relaxing in his room; when you came waltzing in.

“p,” your voice hummed as you knocked; pushing the door open before lando could muster a response from inside. “do you have my top━ oh shit, sorry!” you’d cut yourself short when you found yourself standing in lando’s room. not pietra and max’s.

who was luckily just lounging on the bed in his joggers, not far from switching the lamp off and going to sleep.

but he had been shocked to see you enter his room in just a towel.

“you’re fine,” lando chuckled; having sit up. “we swapped rooms this morning… figured they should have a private bathroom,” lando explained; watching as your face softened in some sort of relief.

you hadn’t been crazy. regardless, still embarrassed; the redness on your cheeks clear as you nodded, cringing ever so slightly.

“right; my bad, sorry,” you repeated; not even wanting to imagine what else you could’ve walked in on.

lando simply chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes glanced over your figure just once; unable to help himself. having to swallow to not let himself think back to what he knows is underneath the towel keeping you modest.

“i’m gonna go,” you declared; sheepishly smiling as you turned on your heel; cringing once more now that you were out of sight, not hiding the urgency as you practically fled his room and slammed the door behind you.

lando hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until you left, body relaxing as he flopped back onto the mattress; a curse leaving his lips.

the next morning, you were there again. obviously. yet he couldn’t see you, nor could you see him. so technically he was eavesdropping; but it hadn’t been on purpose.

lando was out on his balcony first, which was above yours it appeared; mindlessly scrolling through his phone before arabella’s voice became audible, who you were rooming with this trip.

“since when did nicolas get ripped,” she’d posed to you, peering at the man who was dipping in the pool; your eyes following her gaze from where you both sat in deck chairs; smoothies in hand.

“he’s always been cute,” you pointed out; shrugging ever so slightly as you adjusted the sunglasses atop your head, rolling your eyes the moment you caught glance of arabella’s grin.

“and he’s always been into you.” arabella chimed, and you should’ve expected her to steer the conversation in such direction.

lando whoever, who hadn’t scrolled past the tik tok which was playing for the fourth time now, had not expected such words.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you and nicolas? yeah right. you two were close friends, he knew that much. but nothing more. surely not.

“we’re friends bella,” you dismissed; shaking your head. slightly flirty friends as of recent, you’d admit. but just friends.

“so? doesn’t have to stay that way,” arabella had grinned ━ and lando felt betrayed; as if it should be him the pair of you were talking about. not nicolas.

“yes it does.” you laughed. “i’m not dating within the friend group ever again,” you spoke in such certainty it had lando confused, he didn’t think it faired that bad the first time.

but he also wasn’t opposed to your declaration. not that he was close to nicolas, in fact he probably knew him the least. but he was a brother of a childhood friend, who’d tagged along the last few trips. and lando had no complaints of the guy.

“don’t be silly,” arabella huffed. “i’m not saying fall in love with him. just that he could end the sex drought you’re stuck in.” arabella hummed, your eyes widening as you hit her softly.

“what? no one can hear us!” arabella spoke dramatically, and you rolled your eyes; no argument because you figured she was right.

however she wasn’t, because lando was still listening. and his interest had suddenly spiked.

“i am not… stuck in a sex drought,” you huffed; not sounding one bit convincing as you glanced at the pool. “men just suck. i’ve given up on having an orgasm.” your words were dramatic, and playful, but still a bit of truth to them.

suddenly lando felt guilty for overhearing, or purposefully listening, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

your words made no sense to him; considering nights with you would always lead to multiple orgasms for both of you.

and it wasn’t as if you were short on options.

“gotta do everything yourself these days,” arabella sighed out dramtically in agreement; but she had a boyfriend, and your friendship with the girl wasn’t one for many secrets; you knew she was only ‘relating’ out of sympathy.

truth was; since lando, nothing or no one could compare. not even your own damn fingers.

“can’t even get myself off.” you huffed out almost ashamed, and you only whined when you met arabella’s shocked eyes and slack jaw.

lando suddenly felt intrusive, and flustered from the idea of you touching yourself; one he’d grown familiar with due to long distance. suddenly he was standing and ready to walk himself inside in his room.

“is your body like… broken?” arabella sounded bewildered, and you could only huff.

you’d blame it on stress, or any of your medication if it was possible; you’ve heard stories, knew there could be many reasons as to why your sex drive and urges have suddenly changed. none aligned with your circumstances however.

“just deprived i think,” you sighed.

lando needed to get his mind off your sexual need’s immediately, deciding to go on a run with max to occupy himself. to get you off his mind.

and it worked, until he got back to the villa. hot and out of breath, he found himself in the kitchen ━ pouring a glass of water with ice, eyes wandering out the fold out doors that exposed the luxurious back yard. decking, sun lounges, a pool; and his closest friends.

and his ex girlfriend. in a little bikini. with another man’s hands on her.

he couldn’t help but scoff at the sight, you resting on your stomach as nicolas rubbed sunscreen into your back ━ watching as you grinned and spoke up to him momentarily. you were flirting, he knew that look.

his takeaways from his… eavesdropping, was that you didn’t plan to pursue nicolas. so what the fuck was this?

he wanted to laugh, you were going to seek answers to your problems in nicolas? he almost felt offended; if you needed good sex so badly he felt as if he was the obvious candidate.

“careful mate, you’re staring,” max’s words snapped lando out of his thoughts; causing him to glare at the man quickly, bringing his glass to his lips, unaware that his grip was so tight his knuckles were white.

max’s amusement only escalated, eyebrows raising as he chuckled quietly.

“i wasn’t.” lando murmured, leaning back against the counter. “just didn’t know that was a thing,” he tried to shrug off; eyes returning to where you now sat up, rubbing sunscreen into nicolas’s back now.

had he been oblivious to the pair of you?

“i don’t think it is.” max shrugged, following lando’s gaze momentarily, not overanalysing the sight. everyone was friends here.

lando looked to max in doubt, to check if he was being serious.

“does it matter if it is?” max questioned, sassily too, almost a challenge; and lando was quick to scoff ━ mustering up the best chuckle he could to appear as unbothered as he wanted to be.

“no,” the mclaren driver answered almost too quickly, clearing his throat slightly. “i hope it is. would be a good match,” he overcompensated; left to only flip max off as he chuckled and hummed unconvincingly.

“whatever you say,” max mused.

lando wished he was being honest, but as time passed by it became quite clear he was lying.

dinner that night you were sat at opposite ends of the long table, like usual; regardless, lando’s eyes were trained on you for the majority of the night.

you and nicolas of course. who’d snagged the seat next to you.

forced to watch as you shared food, laughed and chattered away in your own little world.

lando felt sick from the sight; that used to be him. should be him. and while he could only blame himself for it not being him, it was a cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

he felt utterly helpless however, because there was nothing he could do.

he couldn’t even express his dismay to anyone as he watched nicolas help you in the car. left to watch as you both giggled and stumbled up to the villa ahead of the group.

he wanted to intervene, to make his presence known to hopefully at least make it awkward. but he couldn’t bring himself too.

not when you’d been such an angel in the breakup, made things so easy for him from the start of the relationship to now. it just wouldn’t be fair to ruin this for you.

even though it was all he wanted to do.

he noted how you two were first off to go ‘sleep’ that night, halfway through the movie that had been put on. and he suddenly wished he’d downed a few more glasses of red at the restaurant, maybe then he wouldn’t have the capacity to brainstorm up everything and anything you and nicolas could be doing tonight.

he wasn’t going to say it was what kept him up, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep; but it definitely played on his mind.

it was starting to make sense to him at least; he hadn’t been around you without distractions since the breakup. it suddenly became clear how helpful those distractions are.

3:42 the clock read.

lando hadn’t gotten a second of shut eye, and after two hours of laying there; he conceded. deciding to get a glass of water as if that would be the solution to all his problems.

instead he was just met with the problem itself; you.

surprise, surprise. nicolas was not the answer to your prayers.

you were already keen to tell arabella ‘i told you so’ when you returned to your room. having spent the night in nicolas’.

he was a nice guy, until the clothes came off.

it was nothing new, you on top; he came. you didn’t. he then tried to get you to finish with his fingers, and you faked an orgasm when it became clear he wasn’t finding your clit any time soon.

your frustrations had now multiplied, it felt pathetic. you were ready to give up.

you snuck out the moment he fell asleep, in the kitchen to get a glass of water and for a few moments to yourself.

“shouldn’t be surprised you’re up,” lando made his presence known, having debated running back to his room when he noticed you occupying the kitchen.

typical.

“needed a drink,” you hummed sheepishly; and for some reason when your eyes met his you felt intimidated; as if you needed refuge, turning back around to the fridge to fill your cup up with ice.

maybe it was because you were already sexually frustrated. or the fact you were stood with your ex boyfriend after sneaking out of another guys room.

“same,” lando hummed; moving behind you to grab a glass for himself, and you could feel him waiting behind you as you poured water into the glass.

“nice night?” lando asked when you moved aside so he too could fill his glass, not looking at you for the time being so you wouldn’t decipher the motives in the question. he didn’t need you to know how concerned he was with your night.

you nodded quickly, humming as you still had a mouth full of water, leaning against the counter now.

“yeah, yeah,” you spoke; pursing your lips. it had been. until it wasn’t. “restaurant was lovely,” you smiled; shifting on your feet slightly as you took in his appearance, even in the dull lightly.

his messy curls that look slept on, slightly tired eyes. he looked cozy.

lando nodded, so much on the tip of his tongue. maybe if it was a different hour of the day he’d have the common sense to not speak his mind, but he was slightly sleep deprived and going insane from his own thoughts.

“you know my balcony is above yours,” lando told you; randomly, your eyebrows furrowing ━ coughing out a slight laugh. you weren’t sure where this conversation was going to lead, your guess was awkward silence. not him blurting out something… irrelevant.

it took a few moments for it to dawn on you, the slight curve of lando’s lips into a smirk causing your eyes to widen in realisation.

you’d only been out on the balcony once today.

“oh my god,” you mumbled; cringing as he chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “shut up!” you whisper yelled, leaning forward to whack his arm, which only had him laughing once more as his hands flew up in defence.

“i wasn’t eavesdropping! i swear,” lando mused, shaking his head as your eyebrows raised.

“great, so you just happened to hear all about my sad sex life,” you huffed, and lando couldn’t help the small smile that was refusing to leave his lips; always having adored the sight of you flustered and sheepish.

it didn’t help, the sight of you wearing what seemed to be just an oversized shirt. reminiscent of how his shirts would drape over your body.

“yeah,” lando confirmed sympathetically, causing you to whack him again; no force in your actions as you groaned audibly.

you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather not hear that conversation; ever so grateful you hadn’t been completely honest with arabella.

you would die of humiliation if you’d told her how you compared every man to lando, how you found no one was able to make you feel anywhere near as good.

but regardless, there was a level of comfort. you trusted the man in front of you.

“nicolas though hm?” lando spoke light heartedly, reminding you of the man you’d just been in bed with.

was it bad he’d slipped your mind completely? having forgotten that he was who sparked such conversation this morning.

“did he make you cum?” his follow up question had you dumbfounded, having not expected such blunt words as your lips parted. “can i ask that?” lando added with a reassuring laugh. but you knew that look in his eyes.

they were darker than usual, he was staring at you intently; practically begging you to step closer.

“no,” you cleared your throat, opting for honesty. “he didn’t.” you huffed, eyes avoiding his for a moment as if you were ashamed. as if it was your fault.

the relief lando felt was pathetic, not that he wished a bad time upon you. or anyone for that matter. but god it felt like the door had been swung right open for him.

he was right; of course nicolas wasn’t going to do it for you.

“i know you can make yourself cum.” lando chimed, pushing himself off the counter and taking a couple steps towards you; ridding any distance as he stood in front of you. “used to be able to at least, seen it myself,” he told you as if you could forget.

you swallowed intently, the tension now almost suffocating. sleeping with an ex was something you swore against; recipe for disaster. but it seemed awfully appealing when it looked like lando did right now.

your cheeks were pink, thinking about the countless times you’d gotten yourself off on facetime calls with the driver, purely because neither of you could wait any longer to see one another again.

“not the same anymore.” your voice was barely above a whisper, it didn’t need to be; not when he was only centimetres away, looking down at you as if he was ready to ravish you.

lando’s eyebrow raised at that, eyes flickering across your face.

it wasn’t the same, you’d worked out the hard way. you only relied on your own devices when you had no other choice; and with that would be lando on the of phone with words of encouragement and direction.

“what, need me to talk you through it again?” his words were teasing as his hand moved to cup your cheek; your stomach turning at the thought. at the fact he seemed like he knew that would do it for you.

you let out a slight breath, shaking your head but you held little confidence in doing so.

“need me to touch you?” he added on, offer sounding almost like a request; words so hushed you could’ve missed them. but you didn’t, you heard him loud and clear.

his eyes were pouring into yours as if he pitied you, but the smirk on his face showed he wanted nothing more than to be the one to solve your problems.

you didn’t even need to think about it, no ifs or buts entering your mind; nothing could make the idea of him seem unappealing.

“please,” you mumbled; eyes pouring up into his, watching as a wicked grin spread on his features; one that made your knees weak.

it was all lando needed to hear, lips pressing against yours in an instant; it coming back to the pair of you quickly. feeling so natural, the way your body melted into his touch; the way your lips moved against each other.

your hands finding a grip on his shirt as his spread across your hips.

lando didn’t waste any time; he wanted to make you cum.

he wasn’t sure if it was because it seemed like a challenge, or because he missed you; but god did he want nothing more than to make you feel good:

his knee pushed between your thighs first, your legs spreading; immediately aware of the finger he was tracing up your inner thigh.

as much as lando missed the feeling of your lips against his, he loved watching you react to every touch and feeling. pulling away but not creating much distance as his fingers brushed over your clothed folds.

you took a sharp breath, shifting your weight to lean against the counter as the anticipation built within, eyes locked on his as he teasingly brushed your clothed clit as well.

he could feel your soaked panties, a wet patch that you knew wasn’t there when you first entered the kitchen.

“you know it doesn’t make sense,” lando started speaking through a breath; his fingers pushing your panties aside with ease, swiping through your folds; spreading your wetness to your clit. “because you’re always so easy for me baby,” he practically cooed as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your jaw fell slack, hips pushing against his hand lightly as you whimpered; cheeks hinting at his taunting words which you’d almost forgotten about and how crazy they drove you.

his free hand returned to your cheek, cupping the side of your face and adjusting your head to ensure you were looking up at him; his head tilting ever so slightly as he gazed down at you.

“so responsive,” he added in a hum; looking incredibly smug, thumb settling on your clit ━ and the moan that escaped you as he circled your sensitive bud had lando’s jaw clenching. he’d missed your pretty sounds.

he was toying with you, teasing. his fingers moving slowly, thumb only lightly circling your clit. yet you hadn’t felt this good in fucking forever, face contorting in pleasure proving such thing.

lando could get lost in the sight, not able to help himself from wanting to give you more.

his fingers gradually picked up the pace, thumb applying more pressure now; but it was when he curled his fingers, grazing that spot he never failed to miss, that you hadn’t been able to find, that a slightly louder moan escaped you.

“ah, ah,” lando hushed you; tapping your cheek lightly. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando hummed through heavy breaths, hating that he had to ask such thing of you.

he wanted to hear you lose control, hear you scream his name like you had countless of times. but he’d hate to be interrupted and have the current sight cut short.

you whined quietly at the request, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried to keep any noise at bay; knowing you had no choice. waking anyone up would be less than ideal.

but somehow, the thought of being caught was the least of your concerns.

your back arched when he added a third, thumb still expertly playing with your clit; your quiet whimpers and moans were growing in volume once more.

lando took matters into his own hands, the hand cupping your cheek shifting so he could tap his pointer finger on your bottom lip; and he had to shut himself up this time as you invited two digits past your lips without second thought.

“fuck,” he mumbled out; eyes fixated on the way you looked up at him with his fingers in your mouth; so similar to the sight of when you’d suck him off. his hard on was almost painful.

your moans were muffled now, thankfully, as your hips pushed forward once more; slowly losing control over your body as the pleasure continued to build.

you’d made a mess on your thighs, his fingers working in and out of you perfectly; beginning to curl his fingers repeatedly had your eyes rolling back.

“yeah, right there baby?” lando mumbled; despite you unable to respond. “gonna make a mess on my fingers yeah? think you deserve to cum,” he smirked ━ and if you could’ve you would’ve cried out, nodding quickly at his words.

your stomach tightened, it was sudden; more sudden than you remembered, lando having caught on to the fact you were cumming before you did; squeezing his fingers as you came undone.

his body was practically holding you up against the counter, vision going white for a moment as your muffled moans filled the air, hips bucking involuntarily once more.

lando wanted to curse himself for ever depriving himself of such thing, watching as you shook in front of him; fingers moving to let you ride out your high, until he was pulling them from your panties, and mouth respectively.

your eyes fluttered open, nothing but awe as you gazed up at him through hooded eyes; panting ever so lightly.

he was smiling cockily, if he didn’t know the root of your issue before, he did now. the way you needed him.

you couldn’t even crush his inflating ego, not when he’d made you cum so hard in a matter of minutes; giving you what you’d been chasing the past few months.

he was about to kiss you again, after moments of admiring your face; but the sound of a door shutting had the moment ruined, reminding both you and him of where you are and what you’re meant to be.

definitely not meant to be caught having a moment at 4 in the morning.

lando was quick in taking a few large strides across the kitchen, positioning himself on the other side of the island as you quickly tugged your shirt down and ran your hand through your hair.

when pietra walked in, it was an innocent sight. plenty of distance between the pair of you, not enough lights on to expose your flushed cheeks or lando’s glistening fingers.

you pretended to be surprised as you brought your glass to your lips, leaning against the counter because your legs were still shaky, lando nodding towards the blonde.

“can’t sleep?” lando hummed in question.

“need to fill my water up.” pietra nodded with a smile, eyes flickering between you in suspicion for a brief moment as she realised this was almost an awkward thing to walk in on. you and him.

if only she knew.

you nodded in agreement, raising your glass of water as lando let out a small chuckle.

“if you need a late night snack, the donuts are great,” lando spoke again; your eyes falling onto him, and you were sure your face was bright red as you watched him bring his fingers to his lips; licking them clean.

you coughed on air, playing it off as if your water went down the wrong way; pietra oblivious as she nodded with a smile.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

the smirk he’d sent you was sickening, and with that he was saying good night and excusing himself.

lando ended up needing a cold shower that night, with his own hand and images of you burned into his mind.

you were hoping your head would be clear when you woke up, but it was only more scrambled.

you’d gotten what you wanted, was it greedy to only want more?

“good night?” arabella had questioned you, sitting next to you on the long dining table; bowls of cereal in front of pair of you; and the smirk on her face was quite telling.

except she didn’t know the half of it.

“yeah, yeah it was good,” you hummed; eyes shifting to the other end of the table; where lando sat, already staring at you. the mischievous glint in his eye had you looking away quickly, the sly smirk not helping you in trying to play it cool to arabella.

you knew he was listening.

“did your… problem get solved?” arabella attempted to ask without outing you, so oblivious to the fact lando could easily piece together her words.

your eyes narrowed towards her, as if to say ‘shut up.’ which she only looked back at you with wide eyes, finding herself quite discrete.

“well?” arabella pushed, whisper yelling.

“yes,” you huffed; in hopes she would shut up, you could feel lando’s eyes burning into you. the man who solved your problem, unbeknownst to arabella who thought it was nicolas who was responsible.

“ah! how exciting,” arabella grinned; standing up and taking her bowel to the kitchen, only then did you let your eyes fall back on the british driver.

who looked oh so amused, you had to flee; following in the girls steps.

it set the tone for the next few days; longing looks, tempting smirks and lingering touches.

you couldn’t bring yourself to go out of your way and seek more of him; despite how much you wanted it. nicolas had been forgotten about, failing to explain your sudden interest and now lack of in the guy.

lando was all you could think about. how couldn’t you? he’d fingered you in the kitchen, bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm you’d been craving; one you hadn’t experienced since him. and once again, it had gone unaddressed.

the tension was clear; you got peace from the fact he was in the same boat as you.

you hated that he’d walked off so smug that night and you yourself had nothing to brag about, left to accept the fact that you needed him. had missed him.

and he knew it.

so maybe you were tactical, every day the dresses got shorter. bikini’s got smaller. you wanted to see him squirm.

which was easy.

it was ridiculous, how often you felt his gaze burning into you; feeling the heat on your skin from such thing. you’d blame the hot summer sun for the the constant blush on your cheeks but in reality it was him.

made to feel better by the way his jaw was constantly clenched. hands fiddling with one another. leg bouncing impatiently because he was furious with the fact you were no longer his, he couldn’t whisk you away and tear your clothes off like he wanted too.

left to simply stare. dwell on the facts. wish that he somehow gets a moment alone with you again.

there were sliding doors.

two minutes alone underneath the cabin on a boat, both trying to find something to drink. he swore you were about to kiss him before max came bouncing down the stairs.

you’d all gone out one night, somehow it was only you two left at the bar. lando was convinced this was it, he was going to drag you off to the bathroom.

but then arabella appeared, demanding shots.

you’d never admit that you went out to the kitchen most nights, hoping he too would be awake at such ridiculous hour again.

you tried not to get frustrated, even with the knowledge there was only a couple days till you’d be flying back home to reality.

finally however, you got lucky.

lando had gone on a run; unbeknownst to you, who had slept in.

you rejected plans of going to a winery, choosing for a day by the pool to save energy to go out tonight like planned.

your group of friends had attempted to protest your decision, but you insisted. bribed them with a promise you would do some baking while they were out.

that’s where lando found you.

stood in the kitchen. of course.

tiny bikini. typical.

and no one else in sight. lovely.

“smells fucking amazing.” lando hummed; slightly breathless as he sauntered into the kitchen, moving to stand against the island ━ a safe distance between the pair of you.

the voice had startled you, jumping slightly as you turned around.

you smiled appreciatively at his words, attempting to not stare at his exposed torso. tanned skin, beads of sweat decorating it. his muscles only more prominent as he crossed his arms, flexing invitingly.

“would feel bad letting such a big kitchen go to waste,” you explained; shrugging ever so slightly as your eyes returned to the chocolate chip cookies you were currently making. refuge from the sight of him.

he chuckled, and nodded; not that you saw. but his eyes didn’t leave you.

he should go up to his room.

“who’s home?” he couldn’t help but ask, feet planted. he wasn’t going anywhere.

the question had you facing what you were trying to ignore; the fact it was just the pair of you. it was dangerous knowledge.

“just us,” you spoke through a breath. if the tension wasn’t clear before, those two words had it falling upon the pair of you like bricks.

lando nodded once more, lips pursing. you were so tempting. this was what he’d been hoping for. he was impressed he even had the mental strength to consider running off. hiding in his room till your friends returned.

that idea didn’t last long though. moving towards you, you heard him approaching; his presence was demanding.

he was behind you, causing you to freeze. breath stuck in your throat.

“you’re driving me crazy.” he’d whispered, despite no fear of anyone overhearing; and you had to shut your eyes for a brief moment when his lips grazed your ear, ensuring you knew just how in reach he was.

you found some solace in his words, confirming your suspicions. reassuring to know you weren’t the only one going crazy. the only one feeling nostalgic.

“how so?” you played dumb, bottom lip rolling through your teeth ━ regardless your head tilted aside as his lips grazed your skin again, his breath fanning your skin.

you heard him grunt, and it would’ve made you giggle if you weren’t fighting off the urge to jump his bones.

“don’t act like it’s not on purpose.” lando huffed, hands moving to play with the fiddling strings of your bikini, fingertips only just brushing your skin.

you had to draw in another breath, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. you needed some sort of power, just a physical reminder that he too was struggling despite his admission.

so you turned on your feet, eyes flickering up to his as you shrugged your shoulders; breaths slightly irregular from the closeness. right in front of you. trapping you against the counter.

“know you haven’t forgotten that all you need to do is use your words if you want me to fuck you,” lando spoke before you could, oozing cockiness despite his wandering eyes and tense jaw; his patience wearing thin.

once more you were cornered in the kitchen by his attractive frame and blunt words that had your thighs squeezing together.

“goes both ways,” you chimed; worried if you didn’t speak now you wouldn’t get a word in. you knew how this went; it was only a matter of time till you were a mess in his hands.

his eyebrows raised, he even scoffed; if he wasn’t so eager for you to go on he would’ve reminded you it didn’t.

lando always had a kink for making you beg.

“i already got what i wanted,” you hummed; hands moving to rest on his toned abdomen, running down and across the muscles before finding the waistband of his joggers. “something you want?”

your teasing tone had lando remembering just how worked up you got him, how frustrating and almost annoying you were. how annoying it was to deal with your antics that was.

“the other night was more than enough for me baby,” lando mused; not cracking, even with your hands on his body. “always look so pretty when you cum.”

you wish his words didn’t have such a visible effect on you. how flustered you got clear by the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, even while you stood here playing with the waistband of his pants.

it was pathetic; neither of you wanting to crack first, wasting precious time because you both really thought you were above this.

able to be friends. exes who wouldn’t go back to each other.

you knew he wasn’t entirely lying; of course you could remember how you were gifted a man who got off from getting you off. how he’d spent nights with his head just buried between your thighs. making you cum countless of times before he got his dick wet.

“cold shower treat you well?” you huffed; not letting him get away with such thing. as if he wasn’t standing here with the need to fuck you.

he smirked at your words, your attitude more so; the playful banter having been something he’d missed. something that wasn’t the same since things became platonic.

“did the job.” he laughed, hands still ghosting over your hips. “jealous i can still get myself off?” he couldn’t help but chuckle; and your jaw dropped at him using confidential information against you.

your hands still on his stomach, whacking lightly which he only chuckled harder at; and if you weren’t embarrassed you’d be taking in the way the smile was lighting up his face.

“that was not something you’re meant to use against me,” you practically grumbled; eyes narrowing up at him and he practically awed at the sight, adoring eyes and all as his hand moved to cup your cheek. his grin not matching the sympathetic eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled jokingly as he leant forward; not giving you time to reply as he put the both of you out of your misery, lips connecting with yours.

it wasn’t what you’d both expected, the kiss to finally ease the tension that had been building ever since a few nights ago in the same spot; the kiss was slow. passionate and deep, but not rushed.

it didn’t last long; but was nice in the moment however. to feel him.

the urge to feel more however was soon too prominent.

your hands that had linked behind his neck soon tangled in his hair. the grip he had on your waist soon moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh within his hold which had you leaning into him.

he lazily dragged you back with him, his back hitting the kitchen island as he practically held you against his body; lips moving in sync.

you felt his hard on with the movement, contained by his joggers; your own excitement jumping as your hands left his hair to snake down between your bodies; palming him.

the groan against your lips only motivated you; and while you wish you could do what he does, stand here and tease him; you were too keen to get your hands on him. to hear more of those pretty sounds he makes.

so you simply smiled up at him as you pulled away; bending down and settling on your knees; hands tugging his pants and underwear down with you; revealing his cock.

his breaths were a lot heavier as he watched you, leaning back against the counter ever so slightly, gaze fixed downwards as a small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.

he hissed as your small hand wrapped around him; thumb swirling the precum ━ you loving every bit of knowing how turned you got him from just a few words and the sight of you.

he wouldn’t ever deny it either; no one did it for him like you did.

“look so pretty on your knees,” lando praised; eager to gain back some control, despite knowing he’d do anything you asked of him right now; your hand feeling much than his did the other night.

you were eager to continue to please, so you didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth. it was as if he knew such thing, by the way his eyes were peering down at you.

his head fell back at the sensation, one he’d missed ━ arms flexing as he gripped the counter; a few curses strung together tumbling from his lips as you practically took him in whole first go.

his tip hitting the back of your throat did little to deter you. it was natural, as if you’d done such thing only a few days ago; not months ━ second nature as your tongue swirled his cock.

your eyes remained up, looking through your lashes as your head bobbed ━ knees uncomfortably shifting against the tiles but it was the last thing on your mind with the beautiful man above you.

taking in the way his abs flexed, neck strained and lips parted as you sucked him off ━ gagging occasionally but both of you knew that was no issue.

“missed this fucking mouth,” lando grunted, hand moving to tangle in your hair; both to keep it out of your way and to just have some sort of hold on you.

he was blindsided with pleasure, more than he remembered he’d be. your bikini did little to leave much to the imagination from his angle, watching as your breasts bounced with every movement. matched with your doe eyes, his jaw was slack.

you hummed as he tugged your hair lightly, the sensation one you always welcomed; and he too was reminded of such as he felt the vibrations around him. tugging again with a little more force.

his groans were gradually becoming more regular, hips bucking once or twice ━ pushing his cock further down your throat each time.

“just like that baby, always so good for me,” lando breathed, eyes screwing such momentarily as his head fell back once more.

you almost whined at the vision, wanting to scramble to your feet and kiss at his skin, feel all over him.

and he’d be happy to let you, he was hesitant in having you get him off first regardless; you hadn’t left much room for argument with good reason.

but right now he had no complaints, moans growing slightly louder in volume ━ grip tightening on the strands of your hair. he didn’t give you any warning as he came, but you didn’t need any.

the way he twitched in your mouth, you didn’t miss a beat ━ swallowing all you could; revelling in the way your name left his lips.

your mouth left him with a pop, gazing up at him to meet his adoring eyes, staring down at you as if you were the greatest thing to grace the earth.

because he did think of you as such. you continued to amaze him, he didn’t grow immune to such thing; just had managed to avoid the fact for a while now.

you stood to your feet, relieving your knees of the discomfort; a coy smile plastered on your lips at him panting and flustered.

you felt even, for the other night; reassured you weren’t the only one in need.

lando couldn’t complain either, couldn’t throw a playful comment towards you ━ not when you stood there with messy hair and swollen lips. all he could think about was turning you into a whiny mess, desperate to have you at his mercy again.

it was clear neither of you knew what to say in the few moments of silence; shamelessly admiring the other, catching your breaths. it wasn’t awkward however.

you were happy to feel his lips on yours once more ━ his hands not shy in wandering your body this time, sliding down to your thighs and hoisting you up immediately.

he was swift in turning around and placing you on the counter, stood between your legs as he hummed against your lips.

it wasn’t until his mouth ducked to your neck, then your collar bones, becoming harder to ignore as your head fell back, growing hot from the kisses he placed where-ever he could, that you spoke up.

“should go to your room,” you managed to get out, watching him through hooded eyes as he simply grabbed the material of your bikini to let your breasts fall free, kissing at the skin of them afterwards.

it wasn’t that you were worried on being walked in on, you had the house to yourselves for at least a couple more hours. you knew that. more so just the knowledge this wasn’t your house.

his eyebrows raised as he looked back up at you, hand sprawling over your stomach as he pushed you back slightly; your body blindly following the suggestion as you leant back on your hands.

“i paid for this villa baby, if i wanna fuck you on the counter i will,” lando murmured, hands spreading your thighs further apart; putting you in no position to argue you.

how could you? his words sounded like a promise, one you could only hope he would keep.

you nodded pathetically, suddenly aware of his hands resting high up on your inner thighs; suddenly aware of your own arousal and need for him.

he discarded of your bikini bottoms with ease, admiring your frame for a few moments as his hand reached to squeeze your breast, nipple rolling through his fingers moments later.

“lando,” you breathed; almost in warning, almost a whine. your legs were still spread and you were already resisting the urge to squirm. your patience non existent.

he only grinned, a slight chuckle maybe as his hands pushed your legs further apart once more.

“i got you baby,” lando hummed. “always so needy for me, you need me yeah? don’t you?” he spoke teasingly, tone painfully sweet as his fingers traced over your soaked folds.

you wanted to curse his obvious teasing, point out how you hadn’t been so cruel. but you knew it’d be no use.

you were scared to admit such thing, huffing as your hips bucked upwards momentarily.

“want to hear you say it.” lando grunted when he realised you weren’t planning on speaking; pinching your clit to get his point across, a strangled moan escaping you as your lips parted, falling into submission.

“need you.” you whined almost shamefully, head falling back as if the ceiling would offer you refuge from his hard stare. “please,”

your pleas were always music to his ears, so much so he debated with the idea of teasing you some more; to draw more whines and please out of you. but the way you were spread for him, so ready; he couldn’t help himself any longer.

you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth on your clit, sucking at your sensitive bud; not expecting such feeling as your eyes rolled back.

his hands manoeuvred your thighs to place your legs over his shoulders; giving him full access to your core as sweet moans started to escape you.

“o-oh my god,” you whimpered; eyes flickering to the sight of his head between your thighs ━ back arching as his tongue swiped through your folds, assaulting your cunt relentlessly as if he was starved.

you’d been reminded of how good his fingers were; so much so you hadn’t even considered getting his tongue again.

his large hands were squeezing your thighs, a bruising grip to keep you in place; eating you out expertly.

“lando━ feels so good,” you moaned as if that wasn’t clear by the way your hips were pushing against his hold. your right hand left the counter, moving to tangle in his curls, something to grab.

his blue eyes ventured to the sight of you momentarily, and he groaned into your cunt as he took note of the way your face was contorting in pleasure, how your body flinched with every move he made.

whimpers and moans were free falling, lando enjoying every single one ━ glad you could be as loud as you wanted, as loud as he made you.

you knew you were approaching your high shamefully fast, but had little room to care when you’d failed to reach it so much recently.

lando knew your body too well, could tell by the way you were tugging on his curls and creating more force against the hold he had on your thighs that you were about to cum.

he wanted you to let go, tongue flicking and nose bumping your clit ━ you orgasmed hard, suddenly; cumming on his tongue with what almost sounded like a squeal.

he didn’t stop, letting you ride out your high ━ before pulling away, wiping at the corners of his mouth.

you were mistaken however in thinking you would have time to catch your breath, not getting a word out before lando was moving only one leg off his shoulder and sliding two fingers into your entrance suddenly; thumb landing on your sensitive clit.

your body almost didn’t know how to react, falling back onto your hands that found the counter you sat upon once more to stabilise yourself.

“s’ too much,” you whimpered ━ legs attempting to squeeze shut, failing with the angle caused by one leg draped over lando’s shoulder, which allowed his fingers to hit deep within you.

lando hummed in amusement, knowing how much you could take. knowing you always said that, just to whine and cry out if he were to stop.

“too much?” he mocked; fingers curling and your body jerking. “want me to stop?” he breathed; smirking oh so cockily because he knew the answer. chuckling as you shook your head ‘no’ incredibly quickly.

“didn’t think so,” he huffed; thumb speeding up on your clit, rolling over the bud continuously. it was pure ecstasy, the overstimulation overwhelming your entire body.

his breaths were heavy as he admired you, the way you were shaking beneath him. reminiscent of how easily he could you like this, of the nights he made you cum four or five times before fucking you.

it killed him he didn’t have the time to do so again. but he couldn’t possibly complain right now.

“making a mess baby, all over my fingers,” lando spoke; the filthy sounds of his fingers moving in out of you filling the room, and you weren’t sure you’d last much longer when he entered a third. “so greedy. gonna cum again aren’t you?”

it was like he was three steps ahead of your body, leaving you to whine and nod pathetically.

“yeah? that what you want? to cum again?” lando spoke once more; watching as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut and it satisfied him to see you feel the pleasure he was giving.

he was hard again, purely from his name sounding so fucking incredible as you moaned and moaned, from the perfection you were.

his hand grasping your cheek had your eyes flying open as lando tilted your head forwards to look at him, eyebrows raised in expectance.

“words pretty girl,” lando reminded, chin still between his thumb and index finger ━ struggling to focus on him with the numbing pleasure that was causing tears to form.

you nodded, before processing what he’d said. words. right.

“please lando,” you gasped; eyes pouring into his, pleading with his as your back arched and legs shook. you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself. “gonna cum,” you whined.

lando felt it had been far too long to be cruel, so he simply hummed in appreciation; smiling lazily as he pushed you over the edge as he curled his fingers once more.

your vision went white, screaming his name as you came again, all over his fingers.

lando’s bottom lip rolled through his teeth at the sight, able to take in every moment, no restraint for either of you and it felt fucking amazing.

his hands gently moved your leg off his shoulder, stood between them as his hands massaged your thighs comfortingly, giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath.

your eyes fluttered open, and immediately you were smiling stupidly at the sight of lando; his own grin mirroring yours as he hummed quietly.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered; unable to stop the compliment from escaping him, and your smile only grew; knowing you’d disagree if you caught sight of your tangled hair and flushed cheeks. 

it had your stomach flipping, men compliment you all the time. only lando would gain such a reaction.

“got another one in you?” his question was gentle; the sparkle in his eye daring, and you had no hesitation in nodding.

“need you inside me,” you mumbled, causing the driver’s smirk to return to its rightful place ━ glad your wants were shared.

you may have gone a long time without, but your stamina hadn’t faulted.

lando was tugging you to the edge of the counter at that, and you easily got lost in the kiss that he placed upon your lips; rough and messy as you melted into his hold.

it’d caught you by surprise, when he tugged you down onto your feet, spun your round and bent you over the marble surface; a gasp escaping you.

“missed you so much,” lando sighed; ushering your legs apart as your breath hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to focus on, his words, your position or the feeling of his hands on your ass.

the confession wasn’t one you’d hold onto, you knew better than to cling to words uttered during sex. but god it felt great to hear.

“missed you too,” you assured him back, moan slipping past your lips as you felt his tip press against your folds; but he made no further movements.

your hips shook slightly, attempting to entice him ━ so needy despite having cum twice already. you just wanted him. all of him.

his hand moved up your back, tangling in your hair and creating a makeshift pony tail ━ one he tugged on immediately, your head snapping up.

“what did i say earlier? about using your words?” lando leant forward, lips grazing your ear; cock pressed against your entrance, causing you to cry out.

your body was overstimulated, tired; tired of his teasing. out of practice to predict his wants.

“want you to fuck me,” you whined quickly, rushing your words out as your hips pressed backwards. “need you lan, please,” you whimpered; sounding oh so desperate lando couldn’t possibly deny you.

he entered you without any more warning, bottoming out as your walls wrapped around him; your gasps intertwining as you gripped the counter below you.

the cool surface against your front did little to cool you down, moaning at the feeling of being so full. full of him again, after so long.

too long.

“always take me so well,” lando grunted in your ear; giving you a few moments to adjust before he was dropping your hair and standing up straight ━ hands finding your hips now.

his thrusts were harsh, rough and deep; not too slow or too fast, ensuring you felt every inch of him as your aching cunt squeezed him.

every move had your body jolting, moans escaping you; the counter and lando the only reason your legs were able to stay upright.

“so-so good,” you stumbled out, eyes rolling back as your body fell limp, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling. what you’d been deprived of and craving.

the driver too was losing himself in the feeling, head thrown back as he moved in and out of you ━ sounds of skin slapping filling up the large and empty space.

it was a mutual feeling, as to why the fuck this didn’t happen sooner. how on earth you two had been in such close proximity throughout the months and not gotten to this point yet.

safe to say keeping your distance now would be difficult.

lando felt the need to be closer, as if he needed more of you despite having you already at his mercy.

his hand found your neck with ease, wrapping around your throat and guiding your head up ━ causing you to stand up right, back against his chest.

he didn’t apply pressure, yet, but just the feeling of his large hand wrapped around the base of your neck had your legs feeling weaker; split open on his cock meaning lando’s body was the only thing holding you up now.

“feel good?” lando’s question was just him chasing praise, knowing you were fucked stupid; but he couldn’t help but want to remind you just who was the reason you could barely form sentences.

you nodded as much as you could in his hold. always nodding, he could ask or say anything and you’d find a way to say yes.

“only i can make you feel this good hm? only i can make you cum?” lando didn’t stop running his mouth, basking in the fact it was him that had the tears spilling out of your eyes. a sense of pride washing over him.

you choked out a yes, his thrusts having only gotten faster ━ and when his hand applied pressure to your neck you were almost certain you were in heaven.

“so perfect, so fucking perfect for me baby,” lando grunted in praise; and the kiss he pressed to your shoulder blade was a vast contrast to the treatment of your cunt.

it really was too much, the few tears and whimpers made that clear to lando; you were only moments away from cumming again and the thought alone had his own high dawning on him.

“come on angel, cum on my cock. cum for me,” he was speaking in your ear again; and you practically screamed as your third orgasm hit ━ body falling limp in his hold.

the way your walls squeezed him had him cumming with you, groaning as his forehead rested on your shoulder ━ erratic breaths filling the room as he stilled inside you.

all his touches were suddenly delicate, pulling out of you as he moved you to lean against the counter, still holding you up slightly as you caught your breath.

it was a comfortable silence, his hands ghosting over your waist as you pressed your eyes shut for a few moments.

you’d expected some sort of regret. an immediate now what? for one of you to panic or flee.

but instead, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

“want to join me for a shower?” lando broke the silence, a half smile that had you feeling an odd sense of relief.

one he felt too when you smiled right back, and nodded in agreement.

he’d chuckled, you would even go as far as to say he was grinning; hands grasping your thighs and picking you up with ease, carrying you off towards the bathroom.

when your friends returned you had been on the sofa, lando out by the pool ━ strategically placed to avoid suspicion, already under the assumption someone would’ve brought up the fact it happened to be you two who stayed back today.

chatter filled the room immediately, lando trudging in to greet everyone. you having stayed seated, purely because you didn’t trust your legs.

“burnt cookies y/n?” max had spoke across the room; having been first to stumble upon the overdone batch sat on the kitchen island you’d spent the last 15 minutes sanitising.

your cheeks flushed, purely because you could sense lando’s eyes burning into you.

you could picture the cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“yeah. my bad,” you laughed sheepishly.

and you were glad to be the only one paying attention when lando passed the back of the couch, finger grazing your shoulder as he did so.

“my bad,” he corrected; your eyes meeting his smug ones in passing.

━━

a/n: did y’all miss my shitty endings???

anyways idk what this is but here it is

unedited atm so apologies xox

as always appreciate feedback so so much, love u all and hope u enjoy 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼