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heartsriki · 5 months ago

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FOR YOUR EYES ONLY ⌇편지

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 2200+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool au!, fluff, misunderstandings, sunshine x grumpy.

synopsis — After seeing your tiny crush nishimura riki sneak something into the confession box you just had to investigate.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys I swear ill make a non highschool au with riki soon... I couldn't help myself.. anyways its FEB!! can't wait to write valentines themed fics!

Finally.

It was your favorite month of the whole year.

You worked as a library assistant at your school—not because you particularly loved the job, but because it was better than joining a club.

Well… that’s what you told people.

In reality, you had a secret gig.

Tucked away in the most secluded part of the library was your confession box—a simple, unassuming container where students could slip in anonymous notes pouring out their feelings.

It started as something just for you. A place to vent when things got overwhelming. But then, he found out.

Jungwon.

You had no choice but to let him in on your little secret, and somehow, he became your best friend. Over time, word spread, and people started using the box themselves. What once held only your thoughts turned into a place where students whispered their love stories into folded pieces of paper.

Only Jungwon knew you were the one behind it.

And now, February had arrived—the holy grail of confessions. Sure, people submitted notes year-round, but around Valentine’s Day? The numbers spiked.

You weren’t going to lie. You loved it. Not just the thrill of reading them (and occasionally sharing the best ones with Jungwon, who never breathed a word), but the idea that you were helping people express what they were too afraid to say out loud.

So here you were, stationed at the front desk, pretending to browse book requests on the computer when a group of girls giggled their way to the back of the library.

Your eyes flickered toward them, amused. Definitely not because you were excited to read their confessions later. Nope. Definitely not.

Then, moments later—he walked in.

Riki.

The second you saw him, your instincts flared up. Suspicious.

Riki never stepped foot in the library. He barely did his assignments, let alone read for fun. So why was he here?

You watched, careful not to make it obvious. He glanced around, acting almost… nervous? And then, without a word, he disappeared into the back.

Seconds later, he reappeared from the other side—hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, walking out as if nothing had happened.

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Did Nishimura Riki just put a confession in your box?

Your hand scrambled for your phone. You had to tell someone.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

And you did think about it.

You and Riki had a… relationship. Not exactly a friendship, but not total strangers either.

You first met in detention.

It was your first time there, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. So, naturally, you turned to the guy next to you—the one with his headphones on, slouched in his seat like he owned the place.

Curious, you tapped his shoulder.

He flinched, looking caught before turning to glare at you. “What?”

You blinked. “How did you sneak those in? Can I listen too?”

Before he could answer, you asked another question. “Wait, also—what are we supposed to do in here?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “What do we do in detention? You sit here. Now be quiet before—”

“Mr. Nishimura, sneaking electronics in again?” The teacher’s voice cut in, hand outstretched.

Riki groaned, slumping back in his seat before begrudgingly handing over his phone and headphones.

When the teacher walked away, he snapped his head back to you, eyes burning with betrayal.

You swore he glared at you for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, you tried to make it up to him—with snacks, lunch, even passing him worksheets to copy. Eventually, after weeks of bugging him, he forgave you.

Kind of.

Even now, he still acted so indifferent.

Whenever you waved at him in the hallway, he looked away. When you invited him to sit with you and your friends, he ignored you. Even when you walked beside him, talking about anything and everything—he barely responded.

At first, you assumed he was just bad with people. But then you saw him with his friends—laughing, joking, talking.

So why was he only like this with you?

Eventually, you gave up.

You distanced yourself, refusing to waste energy on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But then, every now and then, you’d catch him staring—or see him approach you, only to hesitate and walk away.

It was confusing. Frustrating. You told yourself you didn’t care anymore.

Until the school trip.

It had been late at night when you were sent to fetch supplies from the shed—a small, isolated building at the edge of the woods.

You weren’t scared, but walking alone with only a flashlight wasn’t exactly comforting.

By the time you found everything, thunder rumbled outside. Moments later, the skies opened up.

Heavy rain. Lightning. The kind of downpour that turned dirt trails into slippery nightmares.

Running back wasn’t an option.

So, hugging your knees to your chest, you sat in the shed—silent, alone, trying not to cry.

Minutes passed. Then—

The door burst open.

You jumped, heart nearly stopping—until your eyes locked with his.

Riki.

He stood there, soaked from head to toe, breathless, his curls sticking to his forehead.

Did he… run here?

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a moment, like he was checking if you were okay, before stepping inside and sitting next to you.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

You blinked, then let out a soft, teary laugh. He was trying to act tough. But he was clearly worried.

Neither of you spoke after that. You just sat there, listening to the storm. Well, you spoke—rambling like you used to, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time the rain cleared, something between you had shifted.

And now, months later, here you were—staring at an empty confession box, knowing Riki put something inside, yet not finding his name anywhere.

Jungwon’s voice pulled you back.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smirked. “Anything good?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your disappointment. “Yeah, some interesting ones. Oh—Minji completely dropped her last crush and moved on to a new one. Isn’t that crazy?”

Jungwon squinted at you. “You’re looking for Riki’s, aren’t you?”

You groaned, immediately dropping your head onto the table. “I’m pitiful. Don’t look at me.”

Jungwon laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting across from you. “You’re not pitiful. Just mildly down bad.”

You groaned, keeping your forehead against the table. “But I know he put something in there. I saw him! I was so ready to read it, but it’s like—poof!—nothing!”

Jungwon tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You sure he actually put something in the box?”

You lifted your head slightly. “Of course, I literally watched him sneak in.”

“Then…” Jungwon grinned knowingly. “What if he took something out?”

That made you pause. You sat up straight, eyes wide. “Wait… What?”

“Think about it,” Jungwon continued. “If he put in a confession and realized he wasn’t ready, maybe he took it back.”

Your mind raced. That… actually made sense. But why would Riki take it back? And more importantly—who was he confessing to?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you weren’t sure why.

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling. “You could just ask him, you know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hey, Riki! Weird question, but did you happen to steal a confession from my box?’”

“Why not?” Jungwon shrugged. “Or are you scared of the answer?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words never came. Were you scared? The idea of Riki confessing to someone else made your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Before you could respond, the student council room door creaked open again.

And there he was.

Riki stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair a little bit above his eyes which flickered between you and Jungwon before settling on you.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He patted your shoulder before slipping past Riki, whispering a quick, “Good luck,” on his way out.

The door clicked shut. Silence.

You swallowed. “Um… Did you need a book or—”

“I didn’t take it back.”

Your breath hitched.

Riki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The letter. I didn’t take it back.”

Your heart was pounding now. You tried to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I put it in there without a doubt, I think… someone else removed it. Maybe it was a sign not to confess to you.”

You.

Your throat went dry. “It was… for me?”

Riki let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Obviously.”

You blinked. “Obviously? What do you mean obviously? You ignore me ninety percent of the time!”

He huffed, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t ignore you.”

“You literally pretend not to hear me half the time!”

“Because I don’t know what to say!” Riki finally looked at you, frustration and something else—something softer—lingering in his expression. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You talk too much, you’re way too nosy, and you never leave things alone. And somehow, I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I like you, okay?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Riki rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. “This is embarrassing.”

You snapped out of your trance. “Wait, wait. Back up. You like me?”

He groaned, turning toward the door. “Forget I said anything—”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.

He froze.

Slowly, you grinned. “You like me.”

Riki’s ears were turning red. “Shut up.”

You laughed, warmth bubbling in your chest. You never thought you’d get anywhere with him, and yet—here he was, out of breath looking at you so fondly, confessing in the most Riki-like way possible.

February was definitely your favorite month of them all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment Riki stepped into the library, he knew he was making a mistake.

This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t do books, didn’t do anything that required more effort than necessary. But here he was, standing in the one place he actively avoided, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as his eyes flickered toward the back.

He could feel your gaze on him.

You were always watching him.

Not in a weird way—more like you were constantly trying to figure him out. Always with that curious glint in your eyes, like he was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He hated it.

No, that wasn’t true. He hated that he liked it.

And now, as he made his way toward the confession box—the stupidest thing he’d ever been a part of—he was hoping you weren’t paying too much attention.

With one last glance around, he slipped to the back, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and dropped it inside.

Then, without missing a beat, he walked out through the other side, playing it cool.

It took everything in him not to look back.

He could already picture the way your brain was short-circuiting, the way you were probably grabbing your phone to text Jungwon. You always told him everything, after all.

Riki swore under his breath as he left the library.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Well.

That was a lie.

He knew why.

It was because of you.

Because you confused the hell out of him.

You were supposed to be annoying—loud, persistent, way too nosy for your own good. You were supposed to be someone he could easily brush off, like he did with everyone else.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many times he ignored your waves in the hallway, you still smiled at him. No matter how often he shut you out, you never stopped trying.

And then you stopped.

You finally gave up on him.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel too tight.

Ever since that night on the school trip, when he found you curled up alone in the shed, it had been harder and harder to act like he didn’t care.

That night, when he heard you were missing—it was like he could imagine you with red eyes, shoulders shaking—he couldn’t stop himself.

Didn’t even think.

He just ran.

Ran straight into the storm, through the rain, barely able to see a damn thing—but knowing exactly where he was going.

When he finally got there, when he saw you small and fragile under the dim light, something in him cracked.

He never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn’t know how to tell you that.

He wasn’t good with words. He wasn’t good with feelings.

So he wrote it down instead.

It wasn’t a confession, not in the way you expected.

But it was something.

Something for your eyes only.

Something he thought you would have found by now.

So when he walked passed the student council room later that evening, seeing you and Jungwon hunched over the pile of notes, he knew immediately.

You hadn’t seen it.

Because if you had, you wouldn’t be looking for his name like he overheard.

And now, as both your heads snapped toward him, your eyes wide and startled—

Riki sighed, stepping forward.

…You took it, didn’t you? He thought looking straight at Jungwon.

Because if you didn’t find his letter in the box…

Then someone must have.

What was Jungwon playing at?

What happens next? Click (optional)

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cranberrydietcoke · 6 months ago

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𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 - 𝘭𝘶𝘪𝘨𝘪 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦

heavily inspired by this post by @subtlehums

content: 18+, lore accurate luigi, cigarettes, mentions of prescription drugs, guns, L word, established relationship, unprotected p in v, riding, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, kinda emo but fluffy but smutty, he’s so tragically beautiful idk i hope this does him justice

wc: 2.1k

a/n: i am a woman possessed. he is all i think about like its bad. shout out the girlies who found my blog thru tiktok comments lmaooo enjoy

psa: he is innocent until proven guilty! this is a fictional, hypothetical situation in which he did do it.

“𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻’𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁. 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗱, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘁𝗿𝘆, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹 𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗺, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀, 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘀𝗶𝗻. – 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗱.” - tweeted by @ pepmangione, may 1st, 2024.

you missed hawaii. that tiny apartment for just the two of you seemed impossibly big now, as you imagined the sunlight weaving in through the windows, casting shadows of waves onto the kitchen tile. you missed that kitchen, sharing coffee in the mornings before work, baking together. you missed the way the island held you both, lush and warm and predictable. the late nights, the conferences, the schedule – it’s funny how everything always seems so simple in hindsight. he had a way of making it clear he knew best, and you’d stopped arguing years ago. so, when he said to pack a bag for the mainland, you didn’t question it. you trusted him with a kind of faith that went deeper than any earthly explanation could offer.

the frosty breeze whips by you as you step out onto the fire escape of the hostel, headlights and billboards illuminating the city below. you could hear luigi’s furious typing from the chair inside over the sound of honking horns and screeching tires, occasionally pausing to reread it back to himself and flip through the starched pages of the book he’d been in for days. the eraser of the pencil he annotated with was gnawed to damn near nothing. the flick of your lighter shook him from his focus, snapping his head to watch as you wrapped yourself in your fur coat and brought a cigarette to your lips with deep red manicured nails.

“that’s gonna kill you, y’know that right?”

and he was right. not that it made a difference. six months ago, the thought of smoking a cigarette would’ve seemed absurd. now, it almost felt inevitable, like the distance between who you were and who you are had blurred and widened into a festering chasm.

and yet, here he was – the one steady thing in your life, lounging in the peeling leather of the black desk chair, eyes meeting yours like nothing else mattered. the air inside was thick, saturated with things unsaid. tomorrow would inevitably come, but that seemed irrelevant compared to the man in front of you. you crouched with bent knees, weight balanced on the balls of your feet as you blew out thick spirals of smoke, teetering on the tip toes of your flats with each gust of wind.

“lu,” you strain through quick puffs, tapping a nail to the lit stick, causing ash to fall through the metal bars that held you up and onto the concrete of the new york sidewalk. “please.” you scoff, lash-lidded gaze lingering over him through the open window, a look that he couldn’t bring himself to argue with. you were the fracture in the foundation of his carefully constructed logic, the one thing he couldn’t solve.

the first time he saw you at some hazy phi psi social in undergrad, something in him just��stopped. a whirlwind of wild dark hair with an unapologetic laugh that was too loud for the space but too beautiful to be mad at. you spoke with precision, arguing like someone who had points to make, yet there was a strange charm about you, an effortless grace. he had to have you. he assumed that bringing you to maryland for holiday break would be overwhelming, that the sheer volume of his family would cause you to tone yourself down. instead, they welcomed you as one of their own, perhaps because your bold opinions and high standards mirrored theirs. but that was a lifetime ago – before the pandemic, the accident, the surgery. before everything splintered into what it is now.

his puffy, purple-ringed and exhausted eyes follow you as you climb back into the warmth, slamming the window shut and shedding your coat. resting his elbows on his knees, he brought his hands to drag down his face with a deep, weary sigh, letting them fall to his denim-clad thighs with a slap. motioning you over to him with a nod of the head.

brass casings littered the floor, the bed a mess of neon monopoly bills - scattered in the dingy sheets like confetti after some great gatsby party. you’d been holed up in that room for a week now, and his restless energy was palpable. it wasn’t like his stress was something you’d never seen before. in fact, it was normal after all these years. but this. this was a different level. completely enrapturing, not only mental, but physical.

you slip off your shoes with a soft thud on the floor. your steps are slow, deliberate, as you meander toward him, eyes heavy with sympathy. three sleepless nights had made his face hollow, and he’d refused every pill you’d offered – hydros, oxys, anything to subside the pain. you stand in front of him, positioned between his spread legs. his hands reach to meet your plush hips, each digit pressing firmly into your skin, grounding himself in your presence.

when al pacino said the eyes never lie, he was completely correct. luigi’s were sullen, dark, angry. pleading for help, for recognition. you lift a hand to cradle his cheek, tracing over the stubble that wasn’t there when you left hawaii. wordlessly, you sink to your knees on the warped wood of the hotel floor, looking up into his big brown eyes. your fingers trace a slow path from the curve of his jaw to the firm plane of his chest, before settling your palm on the denim of his thigh, smoothing it up and down his leg. you tilt your head, letting your temple rest gently against his knee.

“i love you, lu,” you spoke in a near whisper against him, gaze fixed on nothing in particular, thoughts somewhere far away. “i just wish shit was different.”

“i know baby, i know,” he answered without hesitation, cooing down at you and bringing a meticulous hand to brush the mess of hair from your face. “we’ll be back home soon, i jus- i have some stuff to take care of, love, you know that.” his voice softened as he looked down at you, coaxing your glassy eyes up to his steady stare. with a subtle touch, he grabbed your chin between his thumb and index fingers, lifting your face to meet his. only inches way, you felt the heat of his breath on your lips, drinking it in.

“i know this isn’t who you fell in love with, n’ i’m sorry. i-i’m a fucking shell,” he rambled, bobbing his head with each word, eyes darting around each feature on your face.

“this world, me, everything, is a fucking lie.” he spat, “just t-touch me so i know that i’m real.”

his eyes were wide and manic, brow furrowing as if every thought, every word, was a battle being played out behind those unblinking, shifty eyes. your mouth hangs open, and every part of you seems to be falling into him, melting in his touch. your eyes are unfocused and glazed over as they follow his, drunk off the very essence of him.

“fuck me so i know that i’m real. i’ve been dying to know if i am.”

heady puffs of breath fell against your face with each word, his eyes drifting down to your glossy pout. he ran his tongue up the curve of your parted lips, a tiny gasp escaping them, your eyes never leaving his. it was perverted almost, urgent and depraved. without thinking, you curl your tongue out, meeting and circling his without your lips even touching, saliva dripping onto the floor below. his hands grasp at the sides of your head, pulling you in closer as his tongue forces its way past yours, lips crashing together in a heated kiss. he stands you both up with a swift movement, each kiss growing deeper, more consuming, as he guides you backward onto the bed.

you can’t help but whimper into his mouth through the soft, wet smack of your lips that fills the room as he lays you on your back, pinned by the wrist in a pool of pink and orange paper money. hot, hungry kisses trailed down your neck and across your chest, his hands firm as he peeled off your white tank top. your fingers roamed over every inch of him – gripping a handful of curls, your palm finding the small of his neck to pull him closer. softly, your hands slid over the hard lines of his shoulder blades, tracing the muscles beneath his skin. for a split second, it felt like undergrad again – fooling around on that tiny twin bed, stealing kisses between whispered laughs and desperately hoping that none of the boys in the chapter house heard you.

“baby, sit back,” you murmur, craning your neck and biting into your lower lip as he licks spirals into the sensitive skin, sending a chill down your spine. with a smirk, he flips over to settle onto the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the cold metal button of his levi’s and squirming out of them. the print of his length pressed through the thin fabric of his boxers as you hook your fingers in the waistband, tugging them to fall around his ankles. you shimmy out of your leggings and black lace panties, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the hardwood.

letting a stringy drop of spit fall from your lips, you work and twist your hands over him, whimpers and pants making his chest fall and rise, head lolling back as you plant tiny kisses on both thighs. turning around with bent knees, hips between his legs and feet flat on the floor, you sink down onto him inch by inch, whining incoherently as it stretches you out.

his hands on your sides, thumbs running down the valley of your spine, molding you like pottery as he guides you up and down. the tips of your fingers balance on the floor as you gently bounce and roll your hips, stuffing yourself over and over again on his cock.

“f-fuck – mine, all fuckin’ mine,” he spoke breathlessly, watching your drooly hole take him in with little plap plap plap’s, the fat of your ass recoiling as his length disappeared into you. his grip tightened on your sides, and you felt his legs getting wobbly under your stabilizing hand. “my girl, my good fucking girl…” he spoke absently, almost to himself, each syllable dripping with lust. appreciation. worship, even.

“god, fuck – please.” you babble, whipping your hair back to steal a glance at him from over your shoulder – all focused and blissed out, slack-jawed as he groped and pawed at the lower contour of your ass, spreading open the sticky mess and watching with wild, amazed eyes at the way you wet him up.

“what, baby? want it inside? yeah?” he panted out with squeaky desperation, lower stomach tensing and turning as you gripped and slid over him. “wanna get pregnant, huh, the way you’re takin’ it – fuck!”

his thrusts got sloppy, breath hitching in his throat and translating to desperate whines as he pumped you full. even if he didn’t come back tomorrow, if you never saw him alive again, he was determined to leave you with a little permanent piece of him. bringing a strong, warm palm to the small of your lower back to slow down your pace and push you off of him, he fell back onto the bed with a sigh, rattling the bed frame with the impact. ribbons of thick, opalescent seed seeped from your hole, all fucked open and raw.

laying together, swimming in those hotel sheets, the cold touch of fingerprints tracing numbers and letters into your thighs. truly believing you both had nothing to lose, even though that was far from the truth because you had each other. the shrill sound of wind against windows was stomach-churning compared to the familiar crash of the ocean, and you’ve accepted that you’ll probably never see that apartment again. even if you did, it wouldn’t be the same. but, you trusted him. believed in him, his capability, his intelligence. holding onto that tiny sliver of hope that told you everything would be okay, he would be careful, come home unseen and unscathed. those worries were reserved for the future version of you, one that could carry the weight of tomorrow in the daylight. all of it – the pain, the planning, the uncertainty – was beside the point now. all that mattered was the shelter of his lingering touch, quieting the rest of the world, only if for a few more hours.

#luigi mangione x reader #is this problematic idgaf #god i love him so bad #i am luigisexual

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kuronarnze · 2 months ago

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a/n: i have came back with a sae x reader oneshot... Idk this oneshot idea just randomly came to my mind, sooo i randomly made this oneshot, its pretty cheesy hehe, but enjoyyy !

Itoshi Sae x Reader !

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

“P.S. I Love You"

The mornings always started the same way. The smell of fresh coffee. The faint sound of a closing door. And a folded note on your nightstand, written in neat, sleepy handwriting.

Buenos días, cariño.

You looked too peaceful to wake up, so I didn’t. You kicked me in your sleep again, by the way. I think I bruised.

There’s breakfast in the fridge. Drink water. I love you.

—Sae

You smiled, pressing the paper to your chest, still wrapped in his blanket. He always left letters. Every morning. Without fail.

Sometimes they were just a few words, other times full of sleepy rambles about the dream he had (“we were fish… I don’t know either”) or small reminders like “Don’t forget your scarf, it’s cold today.” But always—always—signed with “I love you.”

You stretched and wandered into the kitchen. And there it was: another note.

Tucked behind the honey jar:

P.S. I’m watching you. Eat something. I mean it.

Inside the coffee mug:

P.S. This mug smells like you. I’m keeping it next time.

Under the potted plant on the windowsill:

P.S. I bet you didn’t expect one here. But now you’re smiling. Gotcha.

You giggled. “He’s such a nerd.”

Your phone buzzed.

Sae: Did you find the one in the sock drawer yet?

You gasped and ran back to the bedroom. Sure enough, buried under mismatched socks, was a tiny folded note.

P.S. I miss you already. Come visit me at practice later? You can pretend to be my manager. Or my wife. Or both.

Your cheeks burned as you fell back onto the bed, clutching the note.

That evening, when he got home and dropped his gym bag, you were waiting at the door with your own little folded letter.

He blinked. “What’s this?”

You leaned in, kissing his cheek. “P.S. I love you too.”

You had gotten used to Sae's morning letters.

Sometimes short, sometimes teasing, always left carefully by your pillow or the coffee pot or even inside your book, like little breadcrumbs leading you back to him.

But this morning felt… different.

There were no short notes on the counter. No hidden scribbles in the fridge or mug. Just one thing—an envelope. Thick, sealed with a little wax stamp you didn’t know he owned, resting on top of your folded blanket.

Your name was written across it in his handwriting. Not his rushed post-practice scribbles. This was slow, deliberate, careful.

You sat on the bed, the early sunlight casting gold across the page as you opened it.

Mi amor,

I know I leave you silly notes every day. Sometimes they’re not even full sentences. Sometimes I’m half-asleep while writing them, and I forget words. But I thought today I’d try something else. Something I’m not good at.

I wanted to write you a real letter. One I’d be proud to leave behind, even if I couldn’t write another one after.

I don’t talk much. You know that. I’ve always struggled to say what I feel in the moment. But when it comes to you, words get stuck somewhere between my chest and my throat. Like I’m trying to explain the feeling of morning sunlight, or the smell of rain. Like no word really fits.

You make this apartment feel like the only home I’ve ever wanted. You laugh at my bad coffee. You steal my hoodies. You fall asleep with your face in a book and wake up saying my name like it’s something soft.

You make it easy to love you, and terrifying to imagine a life where I don’t.

I used to think football was everything. That I had to choose between chasing the future and holding onto something real. But you’ve taught me that love isn’t the thing that slows you down—it’s what keeps you grounded while you fly.

Every time I kiss you, I think: I’m lucky. Every time I leave a note, I think: I want you to smile when I’m not there.

And every day, I fall more in love with the way you say my name, the way you touch my wrist like I’ll disappear, the way you make even silence feel like music.

So… this is my way of saying it.

I love you.

Completely. Quietly. Wildly. In every language I can’t speak.

Yours, always,

Sae.

You read the letter three times, hands shaking slightly, heart aching in the gentlest way.

And when he walked through the door that evening, sweaty and tired and freshly showered, you didn’t say anything.

You just kissed him—slow, sure, lingering—until he whispered, “Did you read it?”

You nodded, eyes warm. “Write me a million more.”

He smiled softly, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. “Only if you keep reading them.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! i hope you have a nice dayy (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) this one shot was super cheesy lmao

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athenamikaelson · 8 months ago

Text

Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 21

Word Count- 8.4k

Warnings- UNEDITED SUE ME- It's 4 AM and I’ve been working on this for the past 5 hours. Swearing, blood, stabbing, reader threatening to off herself with a spoon (idk man), death of a background character, Klaus, Stefan.

“AHHHH,” A loud scream escapes my mouth and I grab the closest thing to me and throw it.

“I’m happy to see you as well, Y/n.”

Elijah?

I blink rapidly as I try to calm my racing heart. I stare wide-eyed at the suited Original before me, and he smiles back at me. His eyes drop momentarily and something shifts in his gaze.

“Maybe you should change, and then we’ll discuss it, " Elijah says, turning to my desk and sitting in my chair as if he owned the place.

I frown in confusion at what he meant but as I glance down at the bright pink towel that is covering my wet body I freeze.

“Oh my god!”

I tighten my grip on my towel and run towards my closet. I squeeze into my tiny closet and shut the door. As I’m trying my hardest to put any clothing on my body, I swear I can hear Elijah laugh to himself from outside the door.

As soon as I think my body is covered I take a deep breath. Elijah is in my bedroom. ELIJAH IS IN MY BEDROOM.

Deep breaths Y/n.

I release a shaky breath and open my closet door. I can feel my heart practically jump out of my chest when I lock eyes with Elijah as he smiles softly at me. His gaze drifts down and his soft smile turns into a shit-eating grin.

“Is that so, Elskan,” Elijah asks me with humor in his voice and I frown.

“What?”

Elijah doesn’t say anything but he nods towards my shirt. I don’t understand what’s funny until I realize what shirt I’m wearing.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” I say as I glance down at the shirt Theo bought for me for my birthday. The shirt that says, in big bold letters “Say Perhaps to Drugs.”

“I don’t do drugs,” I exclaim and then gesture to the door, “My brother got this for me and I knew I’d never wear it so I put it in the back of my closet but it was dark in there and so I must’ve just grabbed this.”

Elijah and I stared at each other for a moment after I got done rambling. Elijah seems to be finding everything incredibly entertaining though as his smile hasn’t dropped this entire time.

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead,” I blurt out and his smile drops for a second but returns a moment later.

“I’ve been dead for a millennium, Elskan,” Elijah retorts and I glare at him.

Elijah clears his throat and straightens out his suit jacket, “You’re… acquaintance Damon took the dagger out of me. I’m to meet him tomorrow morning.”

My eyebrows furrow, “Demon, helped you? I didn’t know he was capable of that?”

Elijah releases a sigh, “You are not the only one.”

I stare at the Original in front of me, well more like ogle. Not much has changed since the last time I saw him, he’s still got his god-like bone structure, expensive-ass clothing, and beautiful dark eyes. What has changed though is the new haircut, instead of the middle part, he’s now sporting a somewhat spiky shorter hairdo. And it pisses me off just how good he makes it look.

“You got a haircut,” I state the obvious as I sit on the edge of my bed.

“Um,” I watch as Elijah fixes a stray hair of his, “I just had it done, it’s something different,” I have to bite back a smile at Elijah’s sudden awkwardness.

“I like it,” I blurt out and Elijah instantly looks up at me.

“You do?”

The smile I was holding back peeks through at the look on his face. Elijah has the same look on his that a dog has when you wave a tennis ball in front of its face.

“I mean the middle part was nice, but you have the facial structure to pull this off too, so you know,” I gesture to his cheekbones and can feel my face warming up.

“My facial structure,” Elijah questions and I want to die in a hole when I see his smirk.

I glare at Elijah and he smiles and then glances down at the book in his hands. When I realize he’s holding Fifty Shades of Grey my eyes widen.

“How did you get that?!”

Elijah glances up at me and smirks again, “I believe you just threw it at me.”

My eyes widen as I realize that the book is what I threw at him when I came into the room.

“So this is the literature that you were telling me about?”

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water at Elijah’s questions.

“That’s not mine.”

Elijah raises an eyebrow, “It’s not?”

I shake my head, walk over to him, and reach out my hand for him to give me the book, “Nope. Just holding it for a friend.”

Elijah stares up at me with a smile and I feel a twisting in my stomach at the bright look in his eyes.

“Have you read it then?”

My face seems to be getting hotter at his question and I quickly shake my head, “Nope. Have you?”

Elijah places the book in the palm of my hand and I clutch it to my chest.

“I prefer the real thing.”

I release an abnormal sound at his comment and feel my heart stop.

“The real thing?”

Elijah smirks so hard that a small dimple is shown on his cheek, “You know, real literature. Not that,” He gestures to the book with his hand, “thing.”

]I release a deep breath, “Oh.”

Elijah nods his head and then raises an eyebrow at me, “What did you think I was talking about?”

I squint my eyes at him and then shake my head rapidly, “Same thing as you. Exactly the same thing. Um,” At the knowing look on Elijah’s face, I fight back a growl.

“How did you get in my house,” I ask, trying to change the subject.

Elijah seems to realize this as he lets out a small breathy laugh, “Your mother, is quite the inviting woman. I told her I was writing my book about Mystic Falls and that I was working on a chapter about people who’ve moved to Mystic Falls and she was quite excited to tell me her story.”

At the mention of my mother, a dark feeling washes over me and I clench my fists.

“Elskan? Is everything alright?”

I rub my shoulder and nod my head, “Peachy. Also, why are you here,” I turn to face him and he looks at me wearily.

“I’ve been gone quite a while. Not that I wanted to be, for the record. I know that my brother has been in town and I wanted to…needed to make sure you’re okay.”

My eyebrows furrow as he watches me.

“I’m fine, Elijah.”

“You don’t look fine, Y/n,” Elijah stands up and fixes his suit.

“Ouch,” I bite out sarcastically.

Elijah shoots me a look and shakes his head, “That is not what I mean, Elskan. There will never be a day in my immortality that I think you look anything other than ethereal, but… it’s in your eyes. Before I left you, you had a softer look in your eyes. But now… I’m not sure, but I know something has changed. What’s happened since I’ve been gone, Y/n?”

What’s happened since Elijah was daggered in front of me? Well…

I became besties with a vampire who was hired by his brother to stalk me.

I got shot.

Found out my dad, isn’t my dad.

Moved out and moved in with Damon, who is kind of one of my closest friends now.

I keep having tiny heart attacks.

My brother knows about the supernatural.

I got kidnapped by Stefan and was saved by his brother.

Klaus. In general. Klaus kissing me. Yup.

“Um… not much. You know, average Mystic Falls stuff.”

Elijah still stares at me like he doesn’t believe me, “Y/n-”

“Have you seen your brother yet?”

Elijah quickly stops his talking at my interruption and his upper lip twitches.

“Momentarily.”

I blow out a breath at his lack of answer and sit in the chair he was once sitting in.

“I’m going to guess that you two didn’t hug it out?”

Elijah walks over to my bookshelf and runs a finger over the spines of a few of my books.

“My brother is not someone I’d like to discuss right now. Or really at any time.”

“Then what do you want to discuss,” I question as I lean back into my chair.

Elijah turns back to glance at me, “You. I’ll always want to discuss you.”

I roll my eyes at the comment, “Nothing is interesting about me to talk about.”

Elijah walks over to me and leans against my desk. Our knees are touching and it seems to be the only thing I can focus on. I look up to Elijah and it seems I’m not the only one. Elijah’s eyes go from our touching knees to looking down at me.

“I find that incredibly doubtful, Elskan.”

I let out a light scoff but can’t stop the smile that makes its way onto my face as I look at the man. He looks back at me but this time his attention is on my lips and I swear I can see a hint of pink gracing his cheeks.

“What do you want to know?’’

Elijah quickly clears his throat and glances up to meet my eyes, “I know you have a younger brother, Theodore, how is your relationship with him?”

At the mention of Theo’s legal name I let out a laugh, “Don’t let him hear you calling him that. But…Theo’s,” I stop and smile when I think of my annoying little brother, “He’s my everything. Don’t tell him I said that or it’ll go right to his head, and he doesn’t need anything else to build his ego. But… before when I didn’t have any friends and was pretty much alone,” I stop and clear my throat, “Theo was the only one who grounded me. He didn’t care that I was a loser, it didn’t stop him from protecting me from bullies at school or sitting with me at lunch when I had no one else. He’s my buddy and best friend.”

Elijah smiles softly at me and nods his head, “I’ll have to remember to thank him for protecting you.”

I quickly shake my head, “Please don’t. Big ego and all that.”

Elijah laughs and I feel that weird turning in my stomach.

“Oh! Speaking of siblings, I met your sister.”

At the mention of Rebekah, Elijah furrows his brows, “You’ve met Rebekah?”

I nod, “Ya. She’s…something.”

Elijah shoots me a look and I continue, “Well, she’s nothing like you. I’d definitely say she’s more like Klaus. But unlike Klaus, she’s… I don’t know. Before Elena daggered her I could have seen myself being friends with her.”

“Yes, my little sister is quite the character,” Elijah frowns and narrows his eyes at me, “You said, unlike my brother… since I’ve been gone, have you and him,” Elijah picks at an invisible piece of lint on his shoulder, “discussed much?”

At the mention of Klaus, I go still.

“Y/n?”

I look up to Elijah who is eyeing me wearily, “Me and Klaus? I mean Klaus! Because there is no me and Klaus! It’s just Klaus!”

Elijah’s eyes narrow even more and I look away and glance at my hands.

“I mean he hasn’t killed me so that’s something,” I say casually trying to cover up the mess I just spilled out.

I hear Elijah let out a growl and he grabs my chin to make me look up to him, “Tell me now, Y/n. Has my brother done anything to harm you? If he has I swear to whatever Gods are out there I will-”

“Dude chill,” I move my face out of his hand and stand up.

“Klaus hasn’t hurt me,” I think about my friends, “At least not physically. Him torturing my friends has been kind of emotionally draining. But, no. Klaus, he’s been a nuisance but he’s not been horrible.”

Elijah and I watch each other, well more like I watch him and he accesses me.

“You’re being truthful with me, right Elskan?”

I nod my head and let out a dramatic yawn, “Yup, totally. God, what is the time? I’m pooped.”

Elijah shoots me a look and then rolls his eyes dramatically.

I raise an eyebrow at him and smirk, “If you keep rolling your eyes like that, you’re going to start looking like me.”

Elijah's tense shoulders loosen and he smiles at me and gestures to my bed, “How tragic that would be. Lay down, Elskan.”

I raise an eyebrow and laugh, “Why? Are you going to tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?”

Elijah walks over to me so he’s about a foot away from me, “I don’t see why not. You’ve got plenty of literature for me to read to you,” He looks back to Fifty Shades which is still sitting on my desk.

“I would rather die,” I blurt out.

Elijah laughs and picks up the edge of my comforter. He gestures for me to lay down and I bite back a smile as I do.

I get under the covers and Elijah places the comforter back down. We stare at each other for a moment before Elijah leans down. I suck in a breath and close my eyes. When I feel Elijah’s lips place a kiss on my temple I let out a sigh.

“Goodnight, Elskan. I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

—-

My father’s in transition.

I stare blankly at the text from Caroline as I read it over and over again.

Excuse me?

Meredith Fell gave him blood and he died with it in his system.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Ok. Should I meet you at the hospital? I can leave now????

I stare at the three dots as I wait for Caroline to finish typing. After what seems like forever I finally get a response.

No. Elena is on her way. Just wanted to keep you updated.

As soon as I read the text I pull out Elena’s contact and type out a message.

WHAT THE HELL????!!! Who killed Caroline’s dad?????

We’re not sure yet. There is someone going around killing council members. Sheriff Forbes said they were killed with one of the stakes from Ric’s collection. I’ll update you later. Stay safe<3

I sit on the edge of my bed, mouth wide open as I stare at the bomb drop that is this text message. Does Mystic Falls have a serial killer? What the fuck am I thinking?! Of course, it does, because what else could be more fucked up about this god-forsaken town!??

I throw my phone on my nightstand and run across the hall to Theo’s room. I throw open his door and my little brother lets out a squeal.

“Jesus woman! Knock first! I could’ve been indecent,” Theo says as he tightens his silk robe around himself dramatically.

“When have you ever been decent in the first place,” I place my hand on my hip and glare at him.

Theo gives me an offended look.

“Also, Mystic Falls now has a serial killer,” I drop the bomb and Theo blinks at me for a few moments.

“Repeat that one more time for me,” He gestures to his right ear.

“Serial. Killer. Mystic. Falls. Stay. Inside.”

Theo nods for a moment before turning around and running towards his phone, “Leave now woman, I must tell my precious baby boy about this.”

I roll my eyes and watch as my pathetic brother dials up Jeremy’s phone number.

“You’re welcome.”

—

For the rest of the afternoon, I tried to do anything to keep me busy. I tried painting, but couldn’t paint anything. I tried reading, but couldn’t focus on the words. I even tried yoga, and now I have pains in my lower back.

To say I pretty much jumped when my phone finally rang is an understatement.

“Hello! What’s going on!?”

“Woah, Pukey. Glad to know you’re finally excited to hear from me,” Demon’s sarcastic voice comes through on the other end.

“You’re not who I was hoping it would be,” I groan.

“And who were you hoping? A certain Original maybe? Not sure which one you were hoping for though. We need to have another movie night so you can update me on your latest conquest.”

“What the hell are you gabbing about now, Demon?”

“Oh you know, a certain suited Original. Or maybe his younger brother who just happened to save your life the other night. Just between us girls, which one is currently tickling your fancy?”

I tighten my grip on my phone, “I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! I have a favor to ask,” Damon stops me from ending the call.

I sigh, “What is it now?”

“I need you to get yourself all dolled up and make your way to the big bad wolf’s house at 8.”

At the idea of seeing Klaus, I freeze up.

“Pukey?”

I shake my head, “That’s not happening, Damon. Deal with him on your own.”

“Y/n, come on. Help a friend out.”

“We’re not friends,” I retort.

“Lovers?”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“I just love your dirty talk. It amazes me how you’re still single,” Damon’s sarcastic response has my upper lip twitching.

“I’ll help you stab Stefan with a fork if you come.”

I look back to my closet, “Eight, you said?”

—

I let out the biggest sigh possible as I stared at the huge mansion in front of me. I then groan when the fabric of my short dress rides its way up my thighs.

After I got off the phone with Damon I went to my closet to find something to wear. I then realized that the only nice clothing I had was the clothes that Alastair bought for me. And as much as I hate saying it, he does have pretty good taste in fashion.

As I try to pull down the short hem of my black lace dress though, I’m not realizing he isn’t the best at guessing women’s sizes. Every time I pull my dress down so I cover half my thigh, the tiny spaghetti straps holding the dress up pull down farther to give an ample view of my chest. Fantastic.

I make my way up the stairs and I just have to keep reminding myself that I’ll get to stab Stefan. When I reach the huge front door I let out a deep breath and knock on it with my shaking hand.

Not even a moment later a blonde woman in a gold dress answers the door, “Can I help you?”

I stare at her confused, “Um, I’m here for a dinner party?”

The woman stares at me blankly and nods her head, “Of course. Right this way,” she says to me in a monotone voice, and I’ve concluded that she’s most likely been compelled.

The blonde woman leads me through the house and into a large room where Damon, Elijah, Klaus, and Not-Yoda are conversing. They’ve all noticed my arrival now but I just stare at Damon hoping he’ll take the lead on this one.

“There’s my girl,” Damon loudly says as he hops up the steps to me and reaches out his arm for me to take, “I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

I shoot Damon a questioning look at his odd behavior but as I look at the other three men’s surprised faces I’m concluding that they didn’t know I was coming.

“Elskan, I…,” Elijah stares at me as his eyes move quickly over me and I bite my lip in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry for crashing your party,” I gesture towards the door, “I’m just going to leave.”

“Wait,” Elijah calls after me and I watch as he climbs the steps to where Damon and I are standing, “Please, join us.”

I look down at Elijah who has his hand raised for me to take, then to Damon who has a smirk on his face, then to Stefan who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and then to Klaus. The hybrid is sitting in a chair closest to the wall, from his casual posture someone would think he’s in a good mood but as he raises a glass of red liquid to his lips, but as his dark blue eyes meet mine, I can see the dark fire burning underneath his surface.

And that’s when I realize, Elijah may want me here, but his younger brother certainly doesn’t.

“Y/n?”

I look away from Klaus and back to Elijah who is looking at me expectantly.

“Um, ya. If that’s alright with you,” I take my arm out of Damon’s and place my left hand into Elijah’s. He slightly tugs me away from Damon with a smile on his face. But as I come almost chest to chest with him his smile drops and dark looks cover his face. A sick feeling builds in my stomach as Elijah drops my hand and grabs my shoulder. I frown, in confusion, but when his thumb grazes my gunshot scar I tense up.

“What happened here,” Elijah’s usually light voice drops into something that makes me want to crawl into a ball and hide. When I look up at him though, I realize he wasn’t asking me, instead he was asking the other men in the room.

Elijah’s hand hasn’t left its position on my shoulder as he glares at the three men in the room.

“I suggest one of you answer me, now.”

“She was shot,” Damon answers for the other two men.

Elijah’s thumb stops its grazing and his gaze goes from my scar to Damon.

“Who did it?”

At Elijah’s harsh tone, Damon shoots me a look and I shrug.

“It was an accident,” Damon tries to joke.

Elijah doesn't seem to find it funny though as a low growl escapes him, making me flinch back.

“Brother,” Klaus practically growls at his older brother.

Elijah’s gaze quickly turns to me and his dark look drops as soon as he makes eye contact with me.

“Elskan,” Elijah takes a step towards me and I take a step back towards Damon.

The look of utter heartbreak on Elijah’s face makes something deep inside me break as he lowers his hand that is outstretched for me.

“Can we just get this dinner over with,” Stefan interrupts us with his annoyed tone.

I turn my gaze to the asshole but can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me.

“That would be great,” Damon says and slowly gestures for me to go in front of him.

I nod and start to walk towards the table when I realize there are only four chairs.

“Oh.”

“Here let me, Elskan,” Elijah quickly says and goes to the edge of the room grabs a chair, and places it at the table. He stands behind it and gestures for me to sit down. I smile at him and nod in thanks. This seems to bring back his mood as his eyes lighten at my acknowledgment.

After I sit down, Elijah seats himself in the chair to my right. I then look to my left and realize that Klaus is seated right beside me.

A girl dressed in the same gold one as before places a plate and silverware in front of me but almost all of my attention is on Klaus. Who seems to not even care to recognize my existence. I mean why should I care though? Right?

—

“You lost your appetite. Eat,” Klaus Says to Stefan who is sitting directly across from us.

Damon chastises his little brother, “I thought we agreed to leave the grumpy Stefan at home.”

I roll my eyes as I pick at the mashed potatoes on my plate. We’ve been sitting for maybe 5 minutes and yet Stefan has already found a way to ruin the night.

Stefan gives his brother and Klaus a fake smile before picking at the food on his plate.

“That’s the spirit,” Klaus smirks.

“Wine, Miss?”

I turn my shoulder to one of the waitresses who is holding out a bottle of wine. I shake my head.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink.”

The girl nods her head and then walks over to Klaus and offers him wine.

“You don’t drink?”

My attention turns to Elijah who is leaning towards me with an interested look on his face.

I shake my head, “I’m not 21.”

Elijah smiles at me, “I know that. But, if you wanted some, I’m sure no one here would tell the authorities.”

I look at the glass of wine in front of Klaus and a wave of nausea rolls through me, “No. I’m good with my water. Thanks,” I smile and hope he drops the subject.

Thankfully Klaus loves hearing himself speak.

“Isn’t this nice,” He asks us, “The five of us dining together. Such a treat. Is this what you had in mind when you pulled the dagger out of my brother?”

I let out a low breath and sip my water as I watch the men in front of me start their little war.

“Well, I know what he felt about you, so I figured, the more…the merrier,” Damon smirks and winks at Elija, and I shake my head. This guy really needs to realize he can’t keep picking fights with men 10 times his age.

“Well,” Klaus responds, “Elijah and I have had our share of quarrels over the centuries, but we always make it through.”

“Kind of like, uh, you and Rebekah, right,” Stefan joins in and I set down my water, “Where is she, by the way? Last I checked, she was still daggered because you were afraid to face her.”

“If you’re referring to the fact that Rebekah knows I killed our mother I’ve already come clean to Elijah.”

Klaus’ words have me glancing at Elijah. Although his face appears nonchalant I watch as his fingers tightly grip the glass he’s holding. It doesn’t take him but a moment to notice my staring and he shoots me a small smile.

“Hey, Stef, remember when you killed Dad? Might want to dial down the judgment till dessert,” Damon remarks to his brother, and my eyebrows raise.

“Oh, so hurting people you supposedly care about is something you’ve been doing for over a century now,” I smile snarkily at the vampire who glares at me, “And here I thought it was only something you did to your girlfriend, and friends.”

Stefan goes to say something but I clear my throat and raise a hand stopping him, “My apologies,” I place a hand to my chest, “I meant ex-girlfriend.”

I hear Klaus snort into his drink from beside me and I jolt when I feel his hand grip my thigh and squeeze it.

“I fear I might’ve missed some things,” Elijah shoots me a look with a sly smile.

Klaus still has his hand gripping my thigh so focusing is starting to become hard.

“Yes, you’ve missed my brother burning all the bridges he once had,” Damon responds and then takes a sip of his wine.

“Kind of like the bridge he tried driving me and his EX-girlfriend off of,” I respond casually and I feel Klaus squeeze my thigh again.

“You did what,” Elijah’s voice comes out low and I look over to see him glaring at Stefan, the latter who is trying his hardest not to make eye contact with the Original.

“Ooookay. We’re here to make a deal, gentlemen. Not kill each other,” Damon tries to clear the air.

“Might want to remind your brother that,” I bite out and match Elijah’s glare.

Damon shoots me a look and I roll my eyes.

“We have a long evening ahead of us,” Damon continues, “Pace yourselves.”

—-

“Where is the lovely Elena tonight,” Elijah asks at the table and I glance at my phone hoping to get a message from anyone. But frown when I see only one text notification from Theo asking how to cook instant noodles. I don’t respond.

“I don’t know. Ask Damon,” Stefan says and Klaus and I both laugh.

“I’d say to ask your little girlfriend over here,” Damon points to me and I stare wide-eyed at him. I feel Klaus’ hand tighten around my thigh.

“I’m sorry,” Klaus looks over to his brother, “you’ve missed so much. Ah, trouble in paradise.”

“One more word about Elena and this dinner is over,” Stefan gazes at everyone at the table and I roll my eyes.

“And here I thought you were melodramatic when you were off blood,” I stare blankly at the vampire across from me who stares back at me.

“I never understood why Elena was friends with you,” Stefan responds.

“And what is that supposed to mean,” I lean forward and glare at him.

Stefan shrugs and leans back, “I just mean that all of her other friends aren’t fragile like you. Physically and emotionally. I mean you’ve had to realize that you’re always the last one to find out about things going on. It's because you’re nothing but a liability.”

I stare at Stefan and for a moment I’m right back to the scared little girl who would puke at the first sign of danger. Because he’s right. I am a liability. There’s nothing special about me. I’m just some weak human that no one wants around because they know I’ll just get hurt. Or throw up.

I’m still sitting silent when I hear Elijah’s chair push backward. But before he can do anything Stefan is being dragged out of his chair by the next by Klaus.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear old friend,” Klaus brings Stefan up to his face as Klaus growls down to him, “If I catch you even looking in Y/n’s direction one more time tonight, coffin or no coffin, I will rip you apart. Limb by bloody limb, and feed your body parts to your brother,” Klaus grips Stefan’s throat tighter to the point where I think he’s going to kill him, “Have I made myself clear?”

I watch in shock, along with Elijah and Damon who appear to be the same as Stefan nods to Klaus.

“Words, Stefan,” Klaus growls.

“I won’t look at her,” Stefan chokes out.

In a second Stefan is being dropped to the ground and Klaus is walking back over to his seat as if nothing happened.

“Perfect,” Klaus smirks, “Shall we continue?”

I stare wide-eyed at the hybrid next to me, but he doesn’t look over at me.

I look over to Elijah who sits back in his seat, but his gaze is on his brother. A look I can’t quite distinguish is on his face.

“Alright…let’s keep Elena and Y/n, in the “Do Not Discuss” pile,” Damon says.

The other men nod their heads but a chuckle from Klaus has me sighing.

“It’s just the allure of the Petrova Doppelganger is still so strong,” Klaus says and a wave of jealously washes over me.

“What do you say, brother? Should we tell them about Tatia,” Klaus turns to his brother who lets out a sigh.

Elijah shakes his head, “Now why should we discuss matters long since resolved?”

I furrow my brows at Elijah’s comment.

“Well, given their shared affection for both Elena and Katerina I think our guests might be curious to learn about the originator of the Petrova line.’’

I take a long sip of my water and start to regret not getting that glass of wine when I had the chance.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere Elijah. Please, do tell,” Damon says.

“Please, don’t,” I whisper under my breath and feel Klaus’ hand squeeze my thigh again.

“When our family first settled here there was a girl named Tatia. She was an exquisite beauty. Every boy of age desired to be her suitor. Even though she’d had a child by another man. And none loved her more than Niklaus,” Elijah says, and that wave of jealousy from before builds.

“Oh, I’d say there was one who loved her at least as much,” Klaus says thoughtfully and I roll my shoulders in annoyance.

“Wait a minute,” Stefan cuts in, “you both loved the same girl?”

I place my right hand on my thigh and tighten it into a fist as I stare at Stefan. I’m about to break skin when a hand pulls my fingers apart and intertwines its fingers with my own.

I look up at Elijah who is already staring at me with a worried look.

I have one left thigh being grabbed by Klaus and my right hand intertwined with Elijah. What the actual fuck is going on right now?

Elijah squeezes my hand before continuing, “Our mother was a very powerful witch. She sought to end our feud with Tatia and so she took her. And Klaus and I would later learn that it was Tatia’s blood that we consumed in the wine on the night where our mother performed the spell which turned us into vampires.”

I release a small gasp and squeeze Elijah’s hand in comfort. What kind of mother would do that to her children?

“Tatia wouldn’t make a decision between the two of us so for a time, Niklaus and I grew estranged. Harsh words were traded. We even came to blows, didn’t we, brother?”

“But in the end, we recognized the sacred bond of family,” Klaus responds.

“Family above…all,” Elijah finishes.

Each brother uses their free hand to cheer their drinks together, and at the same time, I feel Klaus tighten his hold on my thigh and Elijah squeezes my hand.

What the fuck.

—-

“So why don’t we move this evening along and discuss the terms of this proposal,” Elijah asks the Salvawhore brothers.

“Well,” Damon starts, “It’s very simple. Klaus gets his coffins back. In exchange, he and the Original extended family leave Mystic Falls forever. Me, Stefan, Elena, and Pukey, live happily ever after…no grudges.”

At the thought of never seeing Elijah…or Klaus again a weird feeling washes through me.

“Most of the deal sounds fair, brother,” Elijah says.

“I don’t think you understand,” Klaus responds, “Elena’s Doppelganger blood ensures that I will always have more hybrids to fight those that oppose me. I will never leave her behind.”

Klaus stands up, and I can finally release a breath as his warm hand is gone from my thigh.

“Let’s say I do leave her here under your protection, what then? How long before one of you turns her into a vampire? Or worse, how long before she dies caught between your feuding, you see each one of you truly believes that you’re the one that can protect her. And that is simply a delusion. Gentlemen…the worst thing for Elena Gilbert is…the two of you.”

I try not to agree with Klaus’ words but he’s kind of right.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Damon says and gets up from the table.

Elijah squeezes my hand before standing up, “Let me deal with this,” He says before following Damon. Which I find quite odd.

“All this talk has made me thirsty,” Klaus says as he leans on the top of his chair.

“What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus gestures to one of the servers, “Can I interest you in a little after-dinner drink?”

Within in split second Klaus is biting into the poor woman’s neck and I flinch backward. I quickly stand up from my chair and away from Klaus. I watch in horror as Klaus drains the young woman.

“Klaus, stop! You’re going to kill her,” I try to beg him but he doesn’t spare me a glance as he drops the poor girl's body down on the ground. I rush over to her to check for a pulse but feel tears rush to my eyes when I feel nothing.

“Oh come on, Princess,” I feel Klaus touch my shoulder and I flinch away from him. Something shifts in his face at my movement but quickly morphs back into his sarcastic smirk, “Get off the floor, it’s dirty. You’ll ruin the pretty dress of yours.”

“Don’t touch me,” I look up at him and growl.

“Well, you two will make a happy couple,” Stefan remarks as he stands up from his chair.

Klaus’ attention goes from me to Stefan as he glares at him.

“I guess the only reason agreed to this evening, Klaus is to drive a wedge between me and my brother,” Stefan says as he walks over to Klaus.

I wipe the hair away from the poor girl’s face and then stand up, distancing myself from the two men.

“Oh no, you’re doing that well enough on your own. Because of Elena, you’re going to lose your brother and you’ll only have yourself to blame,” Klaus says.

“What do you say, Klaus? It’s time for you to put something on the table. We’ve made our offer, now you counter” Damon enters the room again followed by Elijah. The latter’s attention goes to me and a worried expression comes over his face as he rushes over to me.

Elijah raises his hands and wipes away tears from my face, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

I don’t say anything as I look over at the dead girl on the floor. I hear Elijah take a deep sigh as he looks at her and then he gestures to someone behind us. Right after two waiters walk over to her body and pick her up off the floor.

I watch wordlessly as they take her lifeless body out of the room.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Elskan. My brother shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

“He shouldn’t have done it at all,” I bite out quietly.

“It’s ironic,” Stefan’s voice pulls all of our attention as he gestures to Klaus and then Elijah, “You talk about how Damon and I are causing a rift between ourselves because of Elena when you and Elijah are clearly doing the same.”

I frown as Stefan looks over to Klaus and then over to me and Elijah. I frown in confusion.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Stefan. Once again your bloodlust has made you irrational,” Klaus responds sarcastically but his voice is deeper than before and I feel Elijah pull me behind him.

“Don’t play dumb Klaus,” Stefan smirks snarkily at the Orignal, “I know what she is to you. And from the way Elijah hangs onto every word she says as if she’s the only thing in this world that exists to him, I’m going to take a wild guess and say she’s the same thing to him. So tell me, which of us is truly going to be torn away from our brother?”

I stared confused at the men in front of me.

“Elijah, what is he talking about?”

I walk next to Elijah but he won’t look down at me, “It’s nothing, Y/n. Ignore him. Mr. Salvatore, don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink tonight?”

At Elijah’s equally dark tone, I get even more confused.

“Will someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

Stefan finally looks over to me and I see Elijah start to move in front of me again but I push him back, “Don’t.”

“Mr. Salvatore if you continue, I will rip your head from your shoulders,” Elijah threatens Stefan.

“Let’s go back to the negotiating shall we,” Klaus interrupts and I shoot him a glare.

“Fuck no! I swear to god if someone doesn't start giving me answers soon I’m going to kill myself in front of you all right now to change the trajectories of ALL your lives,” I yell out and move towards the table and grab a knife. Shit. Not a knife, a spoon.

“Stefan,” I turn and glare at the vampire who watches me with a raised eyebrow, “Spill it.”

“Stefan if you do I swear to-” Klaus begins and I hold the spoon up to my neck and glare at him. He just looks at me like I’m a nuisance.

“Shut it, dog!”

“Brother, maybe this is something that should be held off for another time,” Damon chimes in from the background.

“You shut it too, Manwhore,” I glare at Damon who raises his hands in surrender.

“Elskan,” Elijah says and I look over to see him walking towards me and I glare at him, “Let us finish dinner, and then I give you my word that we will discuss this.”

I shake my head at his words, “No. You’ll just come up with another excuse or you’ll say again that I can’t know just yet. And I’m sick of it! I’m not some liability, compared to what everyone thinks! I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

Elijah sends me a sad look that pisses me off, “I know, Y/n. No more of that, I promise you.”

I stare at him for a moment before turning towards Klaus who is glaring at his older brother, “Brother, you can’t be serious?!”

“Niklaus she deserves to know,” Elijah says and Klaus opens his mouth to begin to argue.

“Screw this,” I hear Stefan say, “Y/n, you’re their soulmate. Which is a supernatural phenomenon that only happens to a few supernaturals.”

“Fuck,” I hear Elijah mutter under his breath.

I loud growl escapes Klaus as he rushes over to Stefan and grabs him by the throat.

“I’m sorry, what,” I release a laugh at the absurdity that is that answer.

All the men turn to look at me and I place the spoon back on the table.

“That’s a ridiculous answer, Stefan, thanks for the laugh but now the adults are talking,” I turn back to Elijah, “So you’ll tell me after dinner?”

Elijah stands there silently, as he just blinks at me with his mouth slightly open.

I raise an eyebrow at him and then turn to Klaus, “What’s wrong with him?”

Klaus drops Stefan and then looks at Elijah and then at me. He opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“How about we discuss this after dinner,” Klaus asks and I sigh but nod my head.

“If you don’t keep your word, I’m daggering you myself,” I turn back and glare at Elijah who blinks at me again.

“Alright then,” Klaus starts, “I offer Elena’s future happiness. You see what she needs right now is to be rid of you lot and to fall in love with a human. Maybe that nice football player. You know the blonde one.”

“Matt Donovan? Really,” Damon asks disgustedly.

“Ya, why not? They’ll marry, live a long fruitful life and pop out a perfect family.”

“And continue the Petrova bloodline,” Stefan concludes, “Every few hundred years you’ll have a new Doppelganger to drain and never run out of hybrids, right, Klaus?”

“Consider it a small return on my investment in her well-being. See, after you hand me back the coffin. I’ll ensure her safety for the rest of her natural life. You know it's what’s best for her. So… What do you say, Stefan,” Klaus walks over to the younger vampire, “Do we have a deal?”

Stefan meets Klaus in the middle and goes to shake Klaus’ hand.

“Nice try, Klaus. But no deal,” Stefan says, and within a second Klaus is breaking Stefan’s hand and legs. And then brings his hand to the flames of the fireplace.

Damon begins to run to help his brother but Elijah easily grabs him by the throat and holds him to the wall. All I do though I stand by the table and drink my water.

“Now bring me my coffin before I burn him alive,” Klaus says to Damon who finally relents.

“Go with him, brother. You keep him honest. When you return I will make good on my promise to you and I will hand over our family,” Klaus says to Elijah who gives me a quick glance before following behind Damon.

With a sigh, I sit down at the table again sip my water, and pick at the leftover corn. Behind me, Klaus is still threatening and burning Stefan but I honestly don’t give a damn. He needs to be brought down a peg. Wait…

“Klaus,” I turn in my chair and the hybrid looks over to me.

“What is it, love? I’m kind of in the middle of something here,” He gestures to Stefan and I shrug.

“While you’ve got him down there,” I stand up and sneakily grab the carving knife off the table, “Damon promised me I could have something if I came tonight. And since he; 's currently gone I was hoping you could help me,” I send him a sickly sweet smile and something shifts in his face and his smile matches mine.

“I don’t see why I can’t,” Klaus smirks and I practically skip over to the two men.

When I get in front of Stefan who looks up at me with a glare, I lean down to meet eye level with him. At the same time, I see Klaus tighten his hold on Stefan. I look up at the hybrid but he’s already watching me with an intense gaze.

“I thought we were friends Stefan. I told you things about myself that I don’t tell many people. And you know what you did,” I fake a frown and lean closer into the vampire, “You threatened my little brother and tried to drown me. So fuck you,” Right when I say the last words I take the knife that is in my hands and plunge it into Stefan’s stomach.

Stefan drops to the ground in pain and Klaus lets him. That red-hot anger I felt those weeks ago returns as I watch Stefan try to pry the bloody knife out of his stomach.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more attracted to a woman more, in my entire life, Astin Min.”

Klaus’ words shock me out of my trance and I look up to see him staring down at me with an undistinguishable look.

Klaus raises his hand and wipes a finger across my cheek. When he brings his finger back the tip of it is covered in blood, Stefan’s blood.

I watch almost entranced as Klaus locks eyes with me as he brings his finger to his lips and sucks the blood off his finger.

“What’s going on here,” Elijah’s voice has me quickly stepping away from both of the men.

Elijah’s eyes trail over me and stop at my hands which I can see now are covered in blood.

“Damon said I could do it,” I quickly point at the vampire standing next to him who shoots me a glare.

“Why haven’t you left,” Klaus asks his brother as a waitress enters the room carrying a serving tray.

Elijah’s narrowed eyes leave mine to move to his brother, “Well, where are your manners, brother? You forgot dessert?”

I hope it’s a strawberry shortcake!

Elijah rips a blanket off of the tray to reveal two daggers. Damnit.

“What have you done,” Klaus takes a step back.

“What have you done,” Elijaah retorts, “See, I’ve learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus. We’re doing this on my terms now.”

Why was that kind of attractive? No, Y/n. Stop it!

All of a sudden a young attractive man enters the room behind Elijah and Klaus.

“Kol,” Klaus exclaims.

“Long time, brother,” “Kol” Responds.

Klaus backs away shaking his head and the scared look on his face makes me feel sick. Klaus goes to escape but a man with long brown hair stops him.

“Finn, don’t!”

“Finn” stabs Klaus right in his hand and I take a step forward. Within a second though my view is being blocked by Elijah.

“Stay back,” Elijah softly whispers to me and reaches a hand behind him for me to take. I look at my shaking bloody hand and intertwine it with his.

Klaus speeds towards the other exit but Rebekah comes into view.

“Rebekah,” Klaus exclaims right when his sister stabs him in the stomach.

“I can’t watch,” I lean into Elijah and he pulls me into him hiding my face into his neck.

“This is for our mother,” I hear Rebekah say.

“You’re free to go,” Elijah's chest rumbles as he speaks. I look up at him and he glances down at me and uses his hand to brush away the hair on my face.

“You can stay or leave,” He whispers down to me and I turn to see everyone in the room staring at me now.

“Ah, Elijah! You’ve finally met your soulmate,” Kol smirks as he takes a step towards us and Elijah lets out a low growl, “Congrats brother.”

At Kol’s words, I frown, “Elijah? What is he talking about?”

“Kol, you daft idiot,” Rebekah screeches, “She doesn’t know she’s Nik’s soulmate yet!”

“Nik’s soulmate? No, she’s quite clearly Elijah’s,” Kol gestures to how Elijah is holding on to me.

Rebekah, Kol, and the other sibling, Finn, all stare at me with confused looks on their faces before Kol breaks out into a loud laugh.

“Bloody hell! You poor girl,” Kol stares wide-eyed at me and then at Elijah and Klaus, the latter who watches his younger brother with a glare, “You got sacked with both of them. Didn’t you?”

I stare at the young man in front of me and can start to feel myself shake, “Elijah what’s happening?”

“I’ll explain everything, Elskan. Let the Salvatores take you home and I swear to you I will explain it all,” Elijah says and I release a shaky breath as I nod at his words.

Elijah presses a kiss to my temple before nodding to Damon, who quickly comes and grabs my upper arm.

“Mr. Salvatore, I promise you if anything happens to her while in your care…”

Damon quickly nods his head, “I got it. Come on, Pukey. Let’s go home.”

The last thing I see before I exit the room is the pain-stricken eyes of the Original hybrid.

741 notes · View notes

seilahdiaries · 22 days ago

Text

𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗪𝗜𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗚𝗜𝗡 ?

in which ❝ . your their rapunzel girl . ❞

۪ ֹ ᮫ warnings . . . none? strict household maybe. and fluff જ⁀➴ ⋮ ⌗ 𝓯! reader x the outsiders !

🌞 idk why i randomly thought of a rapunzel coded reader but i did lmao. should i do like a belle or aurora one ??

now playing . . . something that i want - grace potter

𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗬𝗕𝗢𝗬 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦 .

you’re not really allowed to go out, so he comes over after school with you with his book and lays on the floor reading them outloud to you. so cute!

you’re obsessed with reading and poetry like him, so you always ask what pony thinks a line means. and then he starts yapping while you listen ☺️.

you guys draw stars on the ceiling of your room together.

eventually, after proving he’s a “good kid,” your parents start getting looser and start letting you go out— only with him.

but he never— ever. minds being stuck inside with you.

the curtains flutter. you’re lying on your bed, fingers dangling off the edge. and he’s looking through your book shelf, flipping through a paperback.

“hey. doesn’t it get boring? being stuck here with me?”

he glanced at you. then smiles softly.

“nah, not if i’m stuck here with you.”

𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗔𝗣𝗢𝗣 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦 .

you’re always painting— the room is covered in canvases and you paint on non-traditional things too. you even have one of him which is totally not giving creep but okay!

whenever he visits you, he brings little things for you to paint. like flowers, matchboxes or shiny wrappers😭.

“i saw this and thought of you,” he says, holding up a wrapper proudly.

you raise a brow. “that’s from a grape candy.”

“yeah but,” he grins, “look at the color, it’s you. you could make it pretty.”

you roll your eyes with a smile, but take it anyway.

you kiss him with paint on your hands, smudging it on his cheeks and jaw.

he always makes sure everytime he visits— its memorable. like he’ll slow dance with you in the middle of your room, literally cry when he saw the portrait you made of him. crash all of your canvases tryna show of his aerobatics.

and then you’re stuck putting a bandaid on his temple and still inside 😒.

𝗝𝗢𝗛𝗡𝗡𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗗𝗘 .

you guys definitely fill pots and leave them on your porch, watching little plants grow.

you always keep a tiny light on, maybe a candle, in your room— “just in case you pass by.”

he carves yalls initial into a tree you can see from your window with his blade, for sure. like I KNOW he would.

whenever you’re not allowed to go outside, he’s nearby the window and talking to you from below. like a literal fairytale.

“you’re not suppose to be here,” you whisper. johnny grins up at you, hands in his pocket. “yeah. but i missed you.”

“you’re gonna get a knot in your neck if you keep showing up like this,” you call softly, leaning your elbows on the sill.

“worth it.”

“you say that now,” you hum, “but when you can’t look side to side, don’t blame me.”

“i’ll just look up, then. that’s where you are, ain’t it?”

you’re guys’s love is so quiet and cute it almost feels made up. i need that.

𝗗𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗡 .

you’ve never kissed anyone before him and it’s all he can think about.

he pulls back just barely, breath still warm against your lips, his hand resting at your jaw like he’s keeping you steady.

“sweet little lips,” he mutters out.

he grins, crooked and slow, mouth brushing against yours again—

“you keep kissin’ me like that, i’m gonna think you like me or somethin’.” he teases.

he teases you a lot for being a “sweet little thing,” but he always shows up when the lights go out.

you write his name over and over in the margins of your journal, book, recipe books, etc.

he steals you a red lipstick and tells you to wear it for some reason😭.

for sure teaches you how to sneak out.

but you teach him how to care.

𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗦 .

you iron his shirts in the living room and sway to old music on the radio.

i could totally see him building you a bookshelf with his own hands.

but you always do small hobbies that he loves. like when you embroider pillowcases with his and yours initials. always brushing and braiding your hair. or strumming a guitar.

“twenty minutes,” you murmur, stepping back from the dough and reaching for your brush.

you sit by the window, sunlight warm on your cheek as you work through tangles, braiding over your shoulder. you glance at the door like— maybe this time he’ll get off work early today.

the smell of fresh bread soon fills the room.

𝗧𝗪𝗢-𝗕𝗜𝗧 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗪𝗦 .

you write your dreams in a lilac pen and let him read them sometimes. he usually ends up poking fun at them but it’s fine😣.

he always climbs the side of your house instead of the front door to deliver snacks and a singular rose he stole from a yard. IM A FIRM BELIEVER ALMOST ALL THE GANG WOULD STEAL FLOWERS TO GIVE TO YOU.

he always puts on his favorite songs to show you, and the first time he did it was elvis rock-n-roll. you were flabbergasted.

he lets you put ribbons and bows on his hair, sometimes even braids. “as long as you promise to laugh.” he always says.

𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗩𝗘 𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗟𝗘 .

watching him work on his car through the window and waves with a smirk when he catches you.

he lowk teaches you how to steal stuff to “feel alive.” 😭

he also would fix you up a bike so you could go visit him too when you were allowed.

he leaves his jacket for you, either in your room or on the porch railing whenever it rains. idk why but he does!

you print out tiny photos of him and tape them to your mirror, or even just having a page in your scrapbook about him..

“didn’t know i looked good enough for a scrapbook.”

“you look good enough for a hundred,” you murmur back, and he goes quiet.

eyes scanning the page, this time he’s got nothing cocky to say— just stands with a crooked smile and pretending like his heart isn’t doing backflips.

he also keeps something of yours in his glove compartment, like a nail polish or a ring. which is special considering he only has a random wrench and old cigarette boxes in there!

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hivemuthur · 4 months ago

Note

Bestie. I know your requests are closed but I’m champagne drunk rn and I had to get this to you before the thought slips through the little wrinkles in my brain. So don’t answer until you want to answer.

party4u by charli xcx. Idk I’m always blasting charli but today something about this song just struck me. I feel like it could be either Viktor or the MC from Nothings New. Throwing a party for something seemingly random just in the hopes that the other would show up. The pining, the trying-hard-but-trying-not-to-be-noticeable-about-it. (Hope you walk into the party, cause I threw the party just for you)(called your digits but the phone kept ringin/wish I knew what you were thinking)

And then the blatant laying-bare-of-the-feelings ughhhhhhhh (if you saw my tears would you touch me? / kiss me on the mouth, say you love me?)(why you treating me like someone you never loved?)(all I’m thinking all I know is / that I hope you knock on my door)

Idk I just can’t stop thinking about it and I feel like only you could do something Viktor-related but also based on this song justice. You have this way of writing angst and feelings that I normally am afraid to explore (dread, anxiety, jealousy, anger, acknowledging the ugly parts of ourselves (like with The Ugly Thing)) in a way that is so delicious and makes me WANT to explore them.

Bestie, how do do you KNOW ME so well . Thank you for making a playground for me, seriously. I hope you can tell I loved this.

Come So Close That I Might See

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a freeform of what was requested. Implied, but not included in the plot: Jayce and Viktor score a grant for their further science developments, silly Viktor offers to throw a party instead of just grabbing beers. AU Modern Era if you squint (like, phones are mentioned). Contains a lot of fluids :v

word count: 4K

author's note: not me incorporating sex into the request by default and then checking with the requestee only when I got to the condom part :v I also spent a lot of time on forums to get the Czech phrases accurately and it made me giggle how many Czech people went to forewarn the person asking that love confessions in Czech are dead serious and if they have a Czech girlfriend they want to say it to they have to MEAN IT (as a cynical, brooding, judgmental Slavic cunt I wholeheartedly agree). Translations at the bottom and title is from Mazzy Star.

This gets pretty gross, both in terms of sentimentality and bodily fluids, you have been warned!

artist on X (I'm addicted)

—

Never before had he so much as brought his teeth close to his fingers—unless it was to take a bite of something meant precisely for eating—yet now he finds himself absentmindedly gnawing at a particularly stubborn cuticle while staring at the tiny grey tick next to his message, waiting for it to turn green, waiting for it to become three jumping dots. Radiating unease, Viktor sighs out a rattled breath and props his chin on the heel of his palm.

Jayce huffs in the background, stacking the freezer with water poured into plastic containers, hoping it will turn to ice before the first person complains about the heat. It’s one of those unbearably sticky days with no sun, the clouds trapping the air, refusing to let it move, offering no reprieve to the sweaty—until, inevitably, it all gives way to a raging storm by nightfall. Curtains billowing and thunder roaring, hurried window-shutting and water pouring in through the cracks—tonight’s entertainment is already set.

Viktor does little to help, and Jayce doesn’t mind. After all, Viktor’s offer had been a timid one, seeming to stumble out of his lips before his brain could fully calculate the potential disaster of inviting people over. Any excuse would have sufficed, yet scoring a grant was big enough occasion to keep Viktor from backing out.

So he sits with a book, his phone resting in the book’s mouth, dimming every three minutes before he taps the screen again, worried he might miss your reply. He still doesn’t know if this reckless idea will come back to bite him on the ass—if you don’t show up he will have to spend the evening smiling at strangers, pretending to be overjoyed about this opportunity while, in reality, his soul withers away.

“I’m sure she’ll come,” Jayce says finally, three bottles of rum balanced in one hand, his right arm wrapped around a bucket of melting ice that stains his dark blue T-shirt. “Mel will be here—she’ll drag her in.”

“That’s a joyous picture to anticipate, isn’t it?” Viktor hums as calmly as he can, yet his finger is gnawed raw, an ugly shade of red. He scrunches his eyebrows at it, deciding it’s about time to leave it alone. “My friend dragged in to see me by force?”

“Figuratively. I don’t think Mel is that strong,” Jayce teases, setting the dripping bucket on the table, bottles clinking inside. He crouches close to Viktor’s legs. “If not, we’ll try to have a good time anyway. We deserve it.”

Jayce pats his knee, and Viktor fixes his eyes on something in front of him that isn’t Jayce, saving himself from the feeling of being picked apart piece by piece, examined from the inside out. A dreadful sensation, if anyone were to ask him. Everyone around him, save for you, thinks they’ve mastered the skill.

“No promises,” he says, sucking in some of the stale air and setting the book aside, though the phone remains in his hand. He should shower really, wear something that makes him look effortlessly put together—something that invites touch and makes him hug-worthy. But the idea of meeting his reflection sits in his stomach like lead. Whatever all those people, with their prying eyes, fail to notice, he will see in the mirror. And worse—you will see it, too.

It’s so unbearably hot that he takes the coldest shower he can without wrenching the air from his lungs. Cold enough that stepping out into the bathroom’s warm embrace is almost a relief. A quick shave, hair left wet to milk out as much of this fresh feeling as possible, knowing grime will coat him head to toe as soon as the apartment fills with faces attached to sweaty bodies.

Each buzz of the door has his heart flipping in his chest, and he scowls every time the person Jayce greets with a sticky hug is not you. He tries not to look disappointed when guests pat his shoulder and offer their congratulations, tries very hard to be grateful for having friends in the first place—but part of him deeply regrets that his brain didn’t catch the reckless blurt of “Or let’s have a party?” in time.

He’s on his third rum and coke, and maybe that’s why his defences are lower when he goes to answer the door this time, Jayce busy in the kitchen. The door swings open, and he’s greeted by Mel’s perfect face—utterly unbothered by the heat, only her forehead covered in a satin-like sheen, as if designed to enhance her beauty rather than ruin it.

And behind Mel is you, far less heat-resistant, yet for Viktor, far more beautiful. Cheeks flushed a healthy red, shoulders sun-kissed, draped in barely-there straps of a barely-there blouse, and his heart drops all the way down to where his second heart is, beating for you and you alone.

Mel, dignified as always, only ghosts a kiss near his cheek and hands him a bottle of wine before stepping inside, ready to kiss Jayce properly. You linger awkwardly in the hallway, kicking off your shoes before Viktor can tell you not to.

“Hi,” you say stupidly, waving at him.

He waves back, puts his cane on the coat rag, arms spreading just enough—not quite an invitation, not quite begging, but close.

“Are you sure? I’m very gross.” You glance warily at his crisp white shirt, wondering how he’s managed to look so sharp while everyone else sports the look of a wet rag. Sleeves rolled up neatly, showing off the freckles on his taunt skin, veins poking out, swollen with the impossible temperature.

“I don’t mind,” he mutters, already pulling you in. He feels the opposite of minding.

You smell of fresh perfume mixed with sweat, and when his hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, his lips barely brush against your skin, the wine bottle presses against the small of your back. Viktor hopes some of your sweat will sink into his shirt, making you stay with him a little while longer after you leave.

How many times you've been at it, you don't know. It's always on the verge of something serious—yet the closer it gets, the faster Viktor pulls away. The tension between you has lingered since the moment you met, but you have no idea when it settled into this uncomfortable friendship. So distancing yourself, for a while, seemed reasonable. Now, with him wrapped around you, you don't know if you'll find the strength to leave.

You breathe him in, and the uneasiness seeps out of you in an instant. You’re not even that hot anymore. Goosebumps rise on your skin where he touched, and you can feel his lips curl into a smile.

“Congratulations,” you mumble into his chest, and he only hugs you tighter.

He plucks his cane from the empty coat hanger, hands you the bottle and leads you to the kitchen. Jayce pours you a drink, and the four of you sink into a conversation bordering on comfortable. How many times Jayce has to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out that the party was Viktor’s idea, only he knows.

The chatter eases into jokes and laughter at some point, and you can feel the alcohol warming your insides to match the heat outside. Air begins to stir as the predicted storm gathers, the kitchen growing more and more cramped. When a thunderclap cracks through the air, startling someone next to Mel, the contents of her glass spill onto your chest.

“Mel, do you have to? Always? When I’m wearing white?” You jump back instinctively, and Viktor’s fingers wrap around your elbow.

“Oh, darling,” she laughs, scrunching her brows in apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” And indeed, it’s a curse—you should never wear white around her.

“I’ll give you something,” Viktor says quickly, already on a mission.

“I can get it, you don’t have to come upstairs,” you stop him with a hand on his shoulder and a smile. “If that’s okay,” you add, asking for permission to rummage through his closet alone.

He swallows and nods, searching for any good excuse to follow you—but at the moment, even his big brain can’t conjure one.

You drag yourself up the stairs, and the further you get from the noise, the more you realise how loud it was in the kitchen. It feels briefly odd, stepping into Viktor’s bedroom—you haven’t been here in such a long time. But as you cross the threshold, everything looks just as you remember. Maybe a few more notes scattered here and there.

You close the rattling window by his desk before the rain can soak into the papers, then move to his walk-in closet. As soon as you step inside, the scent of Viktor floods your senses, and despite yourself, you breathe in deeply.

Somehow, this feels safe. You run your fingers along his clothes, searching for your favourite T-shirt of his. But you linger unnecessarily long on his jumpers, bringing them close to your cheek and inhaling the scent of his washing powder. You’ve smelled this so many times, and it’s never enough, really.

You don’t know how much time has passed since you left the kitchen, but a voice knocks you out of your daydreaming.

“You alright?”

“Viktor.” You jump away, snagging a T-shirt in the process to make it look like that’s all you’ve been doing. “Shit, you scared me. Yes, I just—” you gesture to your chest, where a red stain from Mel’s wine blooms, “should probably clean off first.”

He nods, still lingering in the doorway, and you just stare at each other. Finally, Viktor speaks your name softly and props his cane by the wall. He means to say so much more than that, but he hopes you will see what he saw in the reflection today—and that you will understand.

And because you do, you reply with a warning.

“Viktor, no.” You shake your head and clutch his T-shirt by the collar in your fist. “How many times have we been at this?”

“Too many,” he breathes, closing the little distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands clasp around your hips, and Viktor rests his forehead against yours, whispering, “Too many. Make this the last one.”

“I’m—” you mutter, placing your palms on top of his. Scared is what you should say. Unsure would also fit. “Sticky,” you say instead.

He takes it as an invitation. In no time, your shirt is rolled up to your armpits, and even if you folded yourself in half and squeezed into his shelves, there would be no avoiding it. Viktor leans in and kisses your navel.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his hot breath mingling with your skin.

His tongue meets your stomach, and your spine stretches as you suck your belly in, only making the route for him longer. Timid at first, something inside him snaps when you moan and wrap your fingers into his hair. He presses his face into your belly, inhales deeply, and kisses with his mouth open until the sticky of Mel’s wine is exchanged for the sticky of his drool.

You tug him up by the hair, and he’s up immediately, pushing you further against the shelves, his torso flush against yours. Your stained shirt smears against his crisp white one.

“Viktor,” you mutter, stopping him from kissing you with a firm grip on his cheeks.

“What?” he asks, surprised. “Do you want me to stop?”

You take a shaky breath and burn your eyes into his, trying to dig out whatever courage you need to settle the needy thing thundering in your chest.

“Viktor,” you say again, buying yourself time. “If you’re messing with me again, I swear to God, I will eat your heart.”

“I’m not,” he says solemnly, a smile playing on his lips—possibly at the dramatics. But if he were being honest, he’d throw it away himself, the heart. It only causes trouble.

An ardent look lingers in his eye when he finally adds, “You can eat it anyway.”

You groan and wrench yourself away from him, suddenly feeling the suffocating heat striking back at you. He follows, leaning against the doorframe and watching as you pace up and down the room.

“What are you thinking?” he asks when you stop and sit on his bed.

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“I—” he hesitates. Takes a few wobbly steps toward you, and when the mattress dips beside you, your legs touch. His hand skims along your inner thigh, and he leans in to kiss your neck. At least he doesn’t look so well put together anymore—his hair is mussed, his cheeks flushed pink, his shirt stained and rumpled where it’s come untucked.

“I want to lick your stomach some more,” he murmurs. “And then kiss you properly. And then—” His lips reach your ear, whispering filth that has your toes curling.

Somewhere in the apartment, the wind forces a window open, knocking something over—possibly a plant pot—causing a startled yelp from at least three voices below. The sound carries up to the bedroom.

You snap your head toward the door. It’s still ajar.

Viktor’s hand slips from your thigh as you get up, and he almost whines, reaching out to stop you—until he sees you’re turning the lock. Then you face him, all serious and reverent.

“I meant what I said,” you tell him, your voice weak.

“I am aware.” He nods, extending his arms toward you.

You come to straddle his lap, and he wraps himself around you. Your fingers pull his hair back from his forehead, and the way he looks at you is just unbearable. He rocks you back and forth to the rhythm of the song playing downstairs.

“I ruined your shirt,” you hum, pressing your thumbs to his temples.

He closes his eyes and hums back, “Good. I hate this shirt.” Wraps himself tighter around you and yanks you over, your back bouncing against the bed with a faint pop.

“Sorry,” Viktor chuckles, embarrassed, and kisses your cheek sweetly.

And he keeps his promise. Rolling your shirt back up, he glides his lips down your chest, along your sternum, until he reaches your solar plexus. He sucks your skin between his lips, breathing in the scent of his own dried spit mixed with wine.

You squeal at the sensation, hooking your foot around his hip. He yanks it away, tossing it aside, his hands clasping around your ribs as he plants hickeys onto your belly. There are so many things Viktor wants to say, but his tongue is too busy.

He wants to thank whatever force shaped your stomach so that his nose can fit there entirely, breathing in whatever happens beneath your skin. He could also thank whoever nudged Mel’s hand into spilling wine over you. And he could thank you for all those mornings when he wakes up drenched in thoughts of you, staring at the ceiling, the vignette of your kind hands is the only thing that stops his shoulders from hulking sullen.

He runs his fingers over the grooves where your ribs erode into hollows, licking there as well. And he wants to lick lower, where your skin disappears under the waistband of your shorts, into the subterranean darkness between your thighs. He wants to feel the pulse of your second heart on his tongue, to see if it beats for him as strongly as his beats for you.

As soon as his lips unglue from your skin, fingers hooking into the material to slide your shorts down, you tug at his hair again—reminding him of your lips. And that’s fine, because all he wants is to kiss all of you tonight. So he obeys, raking his hands up your sides before cupping your face, finally sinking his tired tongue into your mouth.

And oh, he still tastes of rum when you suck yourself off him, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips. His lips are love-bitten and swollen, and yours are just hungry for his. Suddenly, you hate his fucking shirt too. You pull at his buttons, and he chuckles, undoing them so deftly with one hand that it leaves you embarrassed.

You prompt him further—tugging at fabric, pulling impatiently, whining whenever the material refuses to simply give in and vanish. Clothes are discarded onto the floor in a flurry of awkward shimmying and frantic kicks, until he hisses at the faint pain the hurried movement has caused him. There is a bit more grace in you when you pull your top over your head and get rid of your shorts.

Soon, his body full of tumbled bones is naked against yours, pliant and warm. And you wonder how, even in this unbearable heat, Viktor’s flesh never goes soft. It’s always tense, always sharp angles, even as he wraps himself around you in a brief reprieve of a hug. He breathes you in deeply, gulping down whatever scent he’s left on you, his cock pressing heavily against your core.

And he doesn’t even know anymore if he wants to fuck you stupid or just hold you until the sun bleeds red through his blinds.

And the worst part of this dilemma is that he has to momentarily part from you to reach for a condom on the nightstand—and even if it will take mere seconds, he cannot stand it.

He feels so scrutinised under your gaze when you watch his trembling hands. Your fingers come to pluck the little wrapped thing from him, pushing him back against the bed frame. You break the foil, holding it between your thumb and index finger, then lean in to kiss his weeping tip. His head lulls back, eyes fluttering shut as you unroll it down his length.

He already looks so fucked out that you waste no time—taking him in hand and sliding him inside with a slow, burning stretch. His palms hover over your hips, catching you, steadying you. Once he’s buried to the hilt, a certain calmness washes over him—finally, he is hugged from all sides. Your arm wrapped around his neck, your pussy wrapped around his cock, your fingers wrapped around his as you inspect the wound he inflicted on himself earlier.

“What happened here?” you ask, kissing his knuckles.

“I…” His breath hitches as you take his fingers into your mouth. “I got impatient.”

“What about?”

He gives you a pained look and buries his face in the crook of your neck, fingers toying at your lips.

“You,” he admits, stretching out your lower lip. “It feels dreadful to say, but I almost ate my hand waiting for you to reply.”

“Viktor,” you whisper, placing a hand on the back of his neck, running your fingers through his hair. You clench around him, and he gasps, pushing his nose further into your shoulder.

“Don’t torment me, please,” he breathes. “I know I deserve it for all the torment I’ve caused you, but I’m not sure I can survive it.”

“I don’t intend to,” you say softly, rolling your hips against his. He groans, arms tightening around you. “I already told you what happens if you’re fucking with me.”

And then—that smirk you love so dearly. From between his lips, his tongue flicks out to stroke over your skin, traveling up your neck to your ear, where he whispers, “I trust we are differentiating between the categories of fucking.”

Your hips roll again, and his smugness unravels into a deep, sonorous moan. You take it from him greedily, sealing your lips over his. You kiss him open-mouthed, and Viktor responds with a palm crawling toward your clit, gliding over the plane of your licked-clean belly. It finds its warm home, and this time it’s your head lulling back, your mouth moaning as he plucks your hand off his shoulder, entwining your fingers together.

You grind down into him, bracing yourself on your handholding, hearts beating fast and breaths growing hoarse. His cock slides in and out of you in time with your hips and when you look at him he’s all there, present, eyes fixed on you, the focus of his hand between your legs is unwavering. Big brain pays off in times like these when the ability to multitask is worth more than any healthy muscle. And Viktor does little to no work with those, only guiding his hips upward gently each time you come down to slap your ass against his thighs.

He's either learnt it all from years of observation and the half-truths exchange between you, the almost-kiss moments, the falling-asleep-together-by-accident moments, the I’d-rather-watch-crap-with-you-than-get-laid moments, when each of you chose the insufficient each other over another one night stand, or his cock was just made for you.

And you already suspect all those moments were worth it before you are completely certain. Before he twitches inside you hitting the sensitive spot that has you gasping for air and his fingers on your clit speed up, he does another thing. He looks at you longingly and his mouth parts and it’s barely a murmur, a secret gifted to you and only you, even though everyone knows already.

“Ma lásko,” Viktor rolls off his tongue. “Miluji tě,” he whispers, kissing your knuckles. “Byl jsem hloupý,” comes next, and even though you don’t understand, somehow—you do.

“Prosím, odpusť mi. Moc tě miluji,” he murmurs, offering his heart for you to devour if you so chose—but you only tighten your grasp around his fingers and press your lips to his forehead, hoping to do his native language justice when you repeat after him, “Miluji tě.”

This almost undoes him entirely, and to ruin him further, your cunt tightens by the second as you clench around his cock, creaming all over his fingers. But Viktor keeps up, thrusting his hips upward to meet yours, drinking in the sound of his own name falling from your lips as you spasm and tremble on top of him, squeezing his hand until his knuckles turn pale. He kisses you through it, moaning into your mouth as he feels himself teetering on the edge—until a thought invades him abruptly.

He pushes you gently onto your back and crawls on top awkwardly before you can complain about the sudden feeling of emptiness. Enters you again and fucks into you a few more times before pulling back out, sliding the condom off, and stroking himself until he paints your belly in hot white. Eyes hooded, you watch his face—flushed and sweaty, mouth hanging open beautifully, brows scrunched as he pumps the last drops of cum onto your skin. Then, he collapses beside you, kisses you gratefully, and runs his hand over your stomach, smearing his seed all the way up to your breasts and neck. It then spreads across your cheek, drying out like an egg white, tightening your skin before Viktor slides his wet fingers up into your hair.

A laugh, stupid and fucked-out, escapes you as you ask, “Are you going to lick me clean now?”

But Viktor says nothing—though you know he would if you asked. Instead, he wraps an arm around you, pressing your stomachs together with a wet slap, hooks a leg over your hip, and kisses your swollen lips. “Miluji tě,” he repeats, as if saying it during sex doesn’t count.

“Miluji tě,” you whisper back, and he chuckles at how awkward yet sweet it sounds from you. “And thank you for throwing this party.”

“It was only for you,” Viktor says, deciding that honesty is worth more than saving himself from embarrassment. And thankfully, you choose not to tease him further—since, at last, his heart is laid bare before you. You’ll eat it next time all right, just not the one that keeps him figuratively alive.

—

*ma lásko - my love *miluji tě - I love you *Byl jsem hloupý - I've been stupid *Prosím, odpusť mi - please, forgive me

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #requests

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cbeargyu · 2 months ago

Note

hihi, idk if ur reqs r open but! could u write “showing my bf im pregnant” with jaemin please? 🥹

baby on board

summary: you’ve been feeling off lately—moody, sleepy, weird cravings—but it’s not until babies start staring and onesies catch your eye that you realize something’s up. you try to tell jaemin, but the universe is dead set on interrupting you. turns out, your boyfriend is about to be the softest, most dramatic dad ever.

pairing: na jaemin x fem!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, pregnancy au, light comedy, slice of life.

warnings: none, just soft chaos and baby fever

wc: 1,3K

notes: hope you like this anon!! i wrote it kinda fast but poured all my love into it 🥹 i’m such a sucker for parents au and jaemin as a soft, dramatic dad-to-be makes my heart melt. enjoy 💌

remember that requests are OPEN so come drop your deepest desires and i’ll make them come true 👅

you met jaemin in the middle of a rainy tuesday. it was one of those days when the universe feels a little out of sync, like everyone is moving too fast and you’re stuck in slow motion.

you had rushed into the small café on the corner of your street, trying to escape the sudden downpour, half-soaked and completely annoyed at the world. the place was warm and smelled like cinnamon and espresso. you ordered a hot drink, mumbled a thank you, and turned—only to bump into someone holding a stack of books and a muffin in his mouth.

that someone was jaemin.

the muffin fell. the books almost followed.

“shit, i’m so sorry—” you gasped, reaching to steady him.

he caught the books, looked at you, and smiled like nothing in the world could bother him. “it’s okay. i’ve dropped worse things. like myself. down stairs.”

you blinked. then laughed, unexpectedly.

“i’m jaemin,” he added, sticking out his hand.

you shook it. “y/n.”

he bought you another muffin the next day. and then one the day after that. a week later, he asked if you wanted to sit with him. two weeks in, you were watching stupid movies on his couch. by the third month, you were kissing him under fairy lights at his rooftop and wondering how the hell someone could feel like home so fast.

fast forward four years, and he still felt like home.

only now, things were a little... weird.

it started small. like, blink-and-you-miss-it small.

a baby stared at you on the bus. not in a passing glance kind of way—full eye contact, no blinking, pacifier dangling from their lips like they knew something. they just… stared. and when you smiled politely, the baby smiled back and waved.

“you good?” jaemin asked beside you, scrolling on his phone.

“that baby’s been staring at me for ten minutes,” you whispered.

he leaned forward, looked, and waved back. “maybe they think you’re pretty. babies have taste.”

you snorted. “weirdly specific taste.”

“or maybe they think you look like their mom,” he shrugged.

you blinked. “that’s oddly foreshadowy.”

“what?”

“nothing.”

a few days later, you were walking past a baby boutique on the way to get coffee. you’ve passed that shop a hundred times. never once stopped. and yet—this time—you did. you stood outside the window staring at a tiny onesie that said “hi, i’m new here!”

your heart fluttered.

“y/n?” jaemin called from up the block. “you good?”

you startled. “uh, yeah!”

you ran to catch up with him, mentally shaking off the weird softness blooming in your chest.

then came the dreams. weird ones.

you dreamt of holding a baby. always the same one. soft cheeks, sleepy eyes, giggling when you tickled their belly. in the dream, you weren’t panicking. you were calm. happy. at peace.

jaemin was there too—smiling so softly it made your chest ache.

you never mentioned them, because... why would you?

until one day, jaemin walked into the apartment holding a bag of takeout and said:

“i passed a baby crawling in the park today and thought of you.”

you blinked. “...why?”

“i dunno. you’re both soft and cute and have the same confused face.”

“jaemin.”

“i’m just saying! if you wore a tiny hat and had chubby cheeks—”

you threw a pillow at him.

you should’ve figured it out when you cried over a cereal commercial. it was a dad surprising his daughter with pancakes. you were full-on sniffling.

jaemin found you and immediately panicked. “who hurt you?”

“they were just... pancakes,” you whispered.

he looked concerned. and then distracted. “okay but wait—do you want pancakes? i can make you pancakes.”

and still, it didn’t click.

until one morning, your body said “surprise” and you ran straight to the bathroom, nauseous and lightheaded. jaemin was still asleep, drooling slightly on his pillow like a useless angel.

you groaned. “not the flu, please. i have plans.”

except… you didn’t get better. and your period? suspiciously absent.

you sat on the edge of the bed two hours later, holding the test in your hand, staring at the tiny pink lines that basically screamed “congrats, mom.”

“…oh.”

cue emotional spiraling.

attempt #1: destiny.

you’d been feeling weird for days—nausea in the morning, sudden naps in the afternoon, and emotions all over the place. jaemin noticed immediately. but instead of connecting the dots, he assumed the worst.

“are you avoiding me?” he asked one evening, arms crossed as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

you looked up from your glass of ginger tea, annoyed and already tired. “what?”

“you barely texted me all day, and you said no to movie night yesterday.”

you opened your mouth to respond but your phone rang. your mom.

you declined.

“who was it?” jaemin asked, immediately suspicious.

“my mom!”

“why’s she calling at dinner time?”

“i don’t know, maybe she felt my emotional crisis from another city!”

he blinked. “that was very specific. are you mad at me?”

“oh my god.”

jaemin was still staring. “so?”

“i’m not avoiding you, jaemin.”

“then why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

“because every time i try to talk, something happens!”

right on cue, the dog barked like crazy from the other room, having knocked over something. you flinched, eyes closing in frustration. jaemin blinked.

“okay, that’s actually weird timing,” he mumbled.

you stormed past him, muttering, “i give up,” and headed straight to the bedroom.

attempt #2: mark.

you made him tea, sat him down, lit a candle (for vibes), and were this close to saying the words when—

“BABE!” mark’s voice screamed from the phone. “I GOT THE JOB!”

“oh my god!!” jaemin yelled back. “DUDE!!!”

you blinked at your tea.

they screamed for five more minutes. by the time he hung up, you’d finished your tea and your courage.

“next time,” you muttered.

attempt #3: ruined by a flying bug.

“listen, i need to tell you some—”

“IS THAT A WASP?!”

“—oh my god.”

you both ran in opposite directions. it was a whole ordeal. by the time it was gone, you were sweating, annoyed, and incredibly done.

then, the surrender.

so you stopped trying.

and then you cried in the shower for no reason.

jaemin noticed. of course he did.

“okay,” he said that night, hands on his hips. “either you’re avoiding me, or you’re possessed.”

you sighed, curled up in bed. “i’m not possessed.”

“then what is it? are you... breaking up with me?”

you sat up, scandalized. “WHAT?!”

“you’ve been so weird, y/n!”

“YOU THINK I’D DUMP YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF THROWING UP?!”

“...i mean, it’d be dramatic. on brand.”

you stared at him. then got up, walked to the drawer, pulled out the test, and slapped it into his palm.

he blinked.

looked down.

blinked again.

"...this is fake, right?"

you just stared.

“wait. wait. are you serious?”

you nodded.

his mouth opened. closed. opened again. “like. pregnant. pregnant?”

you nodded again.

he looked at you.

looked at the test.

then burst into the softest, most chaotic laugh you’d ever heard. he hugged you so tight you couldn’t breathe, peppered kisses all over your face, and then said:

“i KNEW the baby at the bus was a sign.”

“you WHAT?”

“it waved at you! babies don’t just wave at strangers!”

“that means nothing!”

“IT MEANS EVERYTHING!!”

you laughed so hard you cried.

he leaned in, kissed your stomach, and whispered, “hi, tiny muffin. i can’t wait to meet you.”

you blinked. “muffin?”

“temporary nickname. subject to change.”

“please god, let it change.”

he kissed you so softly it made your chest ache. then he rested his forehead against yours. “okay. new plan. we go through this together. you rest. i panic silently in the background. then we name it something cute. deal?”

“deal.”

he smiled.

then paused. “…what if it’s twins?”

you smacked his arm. “don’t you dare.”

he laughed again, pulling you down with him, tangled in the blankets and each other.

and for the first time in a week, you felt peace settle into your bones—like maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

two hours later.

“what about naming them after me?”

“absolutely not.”

“what about us? like a name mashup? jae-...., min-....”

“you’re banned from name ideas.”

“muffin it is.”

divider by: @uzmacchiato

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moon0shadow · 11 months ago

Text

Obey Me Sheep MC Drabble/Headcannons.

The Sheep MC of Obey me being a sheep makes me think about them doing Sheep Things or getting into Sheep Shenanigans. Cuz Funny

(Use of They/Them pronouns just to be inclusive, idk if this counts as a reader-insert, this is just me spewing my silly sheep ideas, do i put trigger warnings here? Idk)

🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏🐑🐏

• (MC) is very small in sheep form, while they can be bipedal, the idea of them going 'f*ck it' and walking on all fours like a true sheep is funny. It's hard work trying to walk on two little legs whilst covered in poofy wool.

• Them being so small and short made them an easy target to accidentally kick like a soccer ball across the corridor so the brothers gave them a bell to wear so the brothers can hear (MC) around the corner.

• (MC) has definitely given into the Sheeply Urge of chewing or eating on things they shouldn't at least once. Perhaps they do it when hungry or bored but they have tried nibbling on the Brother's clothes or things, of course they'd never chew on something expensive or important to the Brothers [(MC) once ate a page out of one of Satan's books and he damn near almost threw them out of the window for it] but the desire to gnaw on their sleeves or even furniture is a temptation that has crossed (MC)'s mind more than once.

• (MC)'s wool grows just like a sheep's, the brothers learned that the hard way when it got harder and harder for (MC) to walk until they were practically more wool than flesh. The Brothers took a day off just to shear all that wool off, after all that, (MC) was happy trimmed, shorn and peeled sheep who could walk again. Now the only thing left to do is wonder what the hell they're going to do with all this shorn-off wool now...

• (MC) doesn't only have wool, but they have horns and hooves too. Those grow at normal rates and the brothers don't need to worry about your horns growing to be too long or too sharp, your hooves on the other hands, the brothers keep a close eye on, as they don't want your hooves to be overgrown and making it hard for you to walk so Asmodeus takes it upon himself to give them a pedicure/manicure/whatever if those hooves of theirs are getting too long. He even paints them afterwards to make (MC) feel nice and pretty.

• (MC)'s wool gets stuck on things all the time, usually stuff like briars or thorns when left outside or the unforeseen hook or the rare exposed floorboard nail. Though embarrassingly, the most common thing to get hooked up in their hair is the brothers, their jacket zippers and such can occasionally get tangled up whilst (MC) be sitting in their laps, relaxing, only to try and hop off their laps and find themselves hooked by a clingy zipper.

• (MC) definitely makes sheep noises when happy or spooked, the House of Lamentations will be totally quiet (a rare thing) only for that silence to be broken by a tiny: 'MeEeeEehh'.

#obey me shall we date #Obey Me #obey me mc #Obey me X Reader #Obey me shitpost

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enwoso · 5 months ago

Text

finding her way back home | alessia russo

i’m sure someone requested something with lotte and foxy from college era but i can no longer find the request or maybe i dreamt it idk but if not here it it anyways!

grumpy masterlist

alessia leaned back against the dorm room couch, her hand resting on her small bump as she watch lotte and emily animatedly discuss their future plans.

"i'm telling you," lotte said, pausing for a moment as both girls waiting for her to continue, "arsenal is where i'm heading after here. best club in england!"

emily rolled her eyes, "your so biased, arsenal's good sure but if you're really aiming for the best, you'd look across the pond. nwsl has the edge in-."

"emilyy, not again" alessia interrupted, laughing as she dragged out emily's name.

emily smirked, "fine but i'm staying in the u.s. anyway at least for now. but mark my words we'll all end up in london one day, we'll sign with a club together. it'll be epic"

"deal" alessia said softly, looking between her two best friends. "i don't care what club we're at as long as we're together again."

lotte grinned, "you'll have to hold out the talks with manchester united until you're ready to come back though."

"yeah, the deal with them is still early days" alessia said a wistful smile crossing her face. she loved the idea of returning to england and playing there but for now, football felt like a distant dream.

she had other priorities now - a tiny, growing priority who was going to depend on her for everything.

emily leaned forward, her serious side kicking in, "oh, speaking of priorities, less have you taken your prenatal vitamins today?"

a small groan came from the blonde, this had been the same conversation she would have with the american everyday. she wouldn't forget. "yes, emily"

"and the iron supplements? you've been looking pale the last couple of days."

"wow thanks em, but yeah i have"

"and you're drinking enough water?"

"yes, emily!" alessia said, exasperated but unable to hide her smile, her heart warming at the fact of how caring her friends were over her now.

emily raised an eyebrow, "don't 'yes emily' me you were standing for like two hours at that student center thing yesterday. you've got to take it easy less!"

lotte snorted, "your like her personal midwife"

"somebody has to be!" emily shot back, tossing a pillow at lotte as she giggled on, "she's carrying out honorary niece or nephew. i take my duties very seriously!"

—

after a long morning, and a few teary goodbyes mainly saying goodbye to lotte and emily who walked alessia to the further point they could in the airport before sharing a group hug, promising one another that they'd see each other soon.

alessia was finally settling into her seat on the plane, rummaging through her carry-on, pulling out the book emily had packed for her.

as she opened the front cover she noticed a bright pink sticky note with emily's neat handwriting sprawled on it.

‘make sure you drink water every hour, you're already bad enough at this on the ground, don't make me come 30,000 feet and lecture you! safe flight lessi.’ emily

a small laugh bubbled up despite her exhaustion, emily had never let up since the the moment alessia told them and alessia could never not be grateful for the two.

a couple hours later, the flight going somewhat smoothly apart from the fact alessia was finding it rather difficult to get comfy, as she kept having to get up every half hour to use the bathroom. luckily she was on the isle seat..

as the flight attendants handed out complimentary snacks, alessia reached into her own bag for her own stash she'd bought in the airport. as she unwrapped the granola bar another little sticky note fluttered out.

the one had a messier scrawl of letters on it, accompanied with a doodle of a football. alessia immediately knowing it was from lotte.

‘granola bar = good. chocolate = bad. unless you want me and em to tell your little one that their mum broke all the rule, only kidding. take care of yourself, okay? we love you.’ lotte<3.

shaking her head with a smile, alessia carefully folded the note and slipped it back into her bag. her journey back home continued as she found more and more notes that the two girls had hidden in her bag in unexpected places.

reminder to stretch her legs.

a reminder to take her vitamins (no guesses needed to guess who that one was off..)

a reminder to have a nap.

but finally she found a small handwritten card tucked into the side pocket of her bag, where she kept her headphones. the note being from both of them:

‘alessia, we're so proud of you. we can't even begin to imagine how hard this is for you but you're the strongest person we know. and we know that your little one is so lucky to have you as their mum, and we're are so lucky we get to have you as our best friend. don't forget we're only a call away — no matter what the time it is. this isn't a goodbye, just a see you soon. we love you so much! lotte and emily <3'

tears filled her eyes as she read their loving words. holding the note tightly as she pressed it to her chest, overwhelmed by the love and support they had shown her. looking up at the time left on her flight: ten minutes and she'd ben home.

—

when alessia finally stepped through the arrivals gate in london. her body ached for her own bed from the long flight and her mind was foggy with fatigue. yet her heart leapt when she saw her family waiting for her.

her brothers were the first to reach her, gio stood tall with a big grin on his face as he pulled her carry on from her hand. "what's this? didn't they charge you extra for the snacks you probably smuggled on board?"

"or is it baby stuff already?" luca added with a smirk, reaching to grab the trolley with her suitcases on, "bibs and tiny shoes?"

"hilarious" alessia said rolling her eyes playfully. normally she'd fire back with a quick comment of her own but she was simply too tired to engage as she let out a breathy laugh and muttered, "just make yourself useful and carry my bags would you?"

her lack of a witty retort made both her brothers pause, gio nudging luca with his elbow. "she'd either growing up or she's too jet lagged to care?"

"one hundred percent the second one," luca quipped back quickly.

mario was standing slightly behind them, giving her a warm smile as he silently pulled her into a hug. alessia closing her eyes as she leaned into his steady presence.

when he released her from the hug, he took one look at her tired face and gestured towards the doors of the airport, “let’s get you home, you can sleep in the car”

but before they could move any further, carol appearing rushing forward to envelop alessia into her arms.”

“oh my baby!” she cried, happy tears already spilling down her cheeks. her hands immediately going to alessia’s six month bump

“look at you, you’re glowing. are you eating enough? have you been taking those vitamins i told you about? and oh- names! have you thought about any yet? what about james or izzy? or-”

“mum,” alessia said with a tired laugh her voice soft but affectionate, “i’m too tired to think of names right now”

her mum wasn’t deterred, as she looped her arm through alessia’s and began walking in the direction of the car, her chatter filling the quiet night.

“that’s okay, we can talk about it tomorrow. did you know your gran suggested peter? i told her absolutely not and then your aunt said olivia, but that’s..” alessia let her mum’s voice wash over her, a small smile tugged at her lips.

she was home.

the drive back to kent alessia’s head was leant against the cool glass of the car window the air cool and a lot less sticky than the hot air from the states as alessia’s eyes half closed.

her brothers keeping up a low and playful banter next to her as mario hummed softly to the radio as he drove. carol keeping a watchful eye on alessia from the corner of her eye the entire way.

when they finally pulled into the familiar driveway of her childhood home, alessia felt a wave of emotion rise in her chest. her family bustled around her, her brothers unloading her bags as her dad quietly set up a spot for her to sit in the living room. her mum of course already started to plan where they were going to go for breakfast.

alessia sat back, her hand resting on her bump as she let the moment sink in. she was surrounded by love, laughter and warmth. this is what her baby was being welcomed into, a family surrounded by people who already cared so deeply.

for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt at peace. she was home and she couldn’t wait to welcome her baby into the world.

—

it was well past midnight when alessia finally sank into the soft cushions of her old bed, her body aching with exhaustion but her mind too restless to sleep.

her family has tucked her in for the night with promises of a big family breakfast in the morning, but the quiet hum of the house only made her miss lotte and emily even more.

reaching for her phone, alessia stared at the time. it was early morning in north carolina - ridiculously early. she debated whether to call, knowing she could leave a message and they’d get back to her later.

but before she could second guess herself, her fingers had already pressed the button.

to her surprise emily picked up after only two rings, her voice groggy but alert. “less? everything okay?”

“why are you awake?” alessia asked, startled at the americans accent and by the fact she actually answer the phone.

“it’s five thirty am,” emily muttered, “i have morning conditioning in an hour. why are you still awake?” alessia chuckled, that’s one thing she wasn’t going to miss in a hurry - the early morning sessions.

“i just got home and i- um couldn’t sleep. i wasn’t expecting you to answer. i was just going to leave a message.” alessia explained as emily had placed her phone down on the counter to fill up her water bottle.

“like i’d miss your call,” emily said her tone softening as the american glanced across her dorm room, “wait, here comes lotte.”

a moment later, lotte was on the screen a tired smile on her face but still filled with excitement to her see the blonde. “less! your home already? how was the flight? did baby behave? did you find the notes we left?”

“slow down lotte..” emily interrupted with a teasing smile, “let her answer one question at a time”

alessia laughed, warmth spreading through her chest, “yes i’m home. the flight was fine - long but fine. baby is all good, kicking my ribs but that’s usual these days. and yes i found all the notes. thank you for those by the way.” her voice softened, “i already miss you guys.”

“don’t make me cry at five am,” emily groaned, “it’s too early for emotions.”

“literally? who gave you the right?” lotte added, but her teasing tone couldn’t mask the affection in her voice.

alessia leaned back against her pillows, “it feels weird without you both. and em you’ll be happy to know my mum has already taken over your job”

"job?”

“mhm the constant reminders about vitamins and water” alessia replied a hint of amusement in her tone, “first you, now her. it like i have my own personal tag team of nagging.”

“poor you” emily dai, her voice mock dramatic, “you live such a hard life. imagine having people who actually care about you. must be terrible.”

alessia snorted as she rolled her eyes playfully, although the two on the other side of the facetime call could barely see by the blondes dimly lit room.

“don’t mind her less,” lotte said her voice light. “you know she gets snappy when she’s tired.”

“i’m not snappy when i’m tired.” emily protested as lotte and alessia both looked to each other and burst out laughing.

“you are..” lotte countered as she stopped her laughing, “but it’s okay we love you anyway.”

the banter made alessia smile so wide her cheeks were beginning to her. these two girls were her rocks, her family away from home. even though right now they were miles apart she felt their love and support as strongly as if they were sitting beside her — if not more.

“thanks for answering” alessia said softly, “i didn’t think you would.”

“of course we did.” emily said her voice losing its previous teasing edge, “we told you that you can call us anytime, less. even if it’s just to say hi, we’re here for you.”

“always,” lotte added, “now you need to sleep. you’ve got the whole growing another human thing to keep up with.”

alessia laughed as she could feel the baby kicking slightly, “okay okay, goodnight— or good morning.. i guess”

“love you less!” they said in unison making the blonde grin.

“love you guys too!”

as alessia hung up the room felt a little less quiet and her heart felt a little less heavy. even across an ocean her best friends were always there for her. with a content sigh she fitted off to sleep one hand resting on her bump knowing she’d never be alone in this journey.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo #woso community #woso appreciation #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #awfc #lotte wubben moy #emily fox #grumpy universe #enwoso

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juliettejwnewinesa · 1 month ago

Note

OMG UR FICS NEED MORE ATTENTION WAAA I JUST BINGED UR ENTIRE ACD WAA UR ACTUALLY SO GOODDD UGHHHHH

ID LIKE TO REQUEST A SIEUN X READER 😭🫶

In a cutesy little scenario where reader leaves cute little notes in the notebooks/textbooks he let reader borrow while studying :3 and then he starts collecting them or something then one day mentions it in person !!! when he does they both agree in a cute sentimental way that they like it better when the reader says things out loud to him and stuff and but then HEHEHE maybe things could get a bit spicy? Idk it’s completely up to u 🫶

THANK U FOR 4 FEEDING ME YUMMY YUMMY FICS/HCS/WTV I LOVE UR ACC

WAAAAAA THANK UUU 😭😭😭🫶 you just healed five of my inner children, three of my chakras, and a minimum of one organ I didn’t know needed saving. I’m literally putting this message in a locket and wearing it to my wedding.

AND YESSSSS absolutely I will write your Sieun x reader request!! The concept is so 🥺💘💌 cute I wanna eat it like candy. Notes in textbooks?? Secretly collecting them?? Soft confession with a little spicy twist? You have taste. Michelin star level taste.

Scribbled Hearts

Pairing: Yoo Si-eun x Reader Genre: Fluff → Smut | College AU Word count: ~6,500 Summary: You’ve been borrowing Si-eun’s textbooks all semester, and along the way, you’ve left behind little notes: doodles, encouragement, private jokes. What you don’t know is that he’s been collecting every single one. And what he doesn’t know is how you feel—until now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It started with a pen.

Well—no. It started with Yoo Si-eun, deadpan and dry, passing over his physics textbook without a word when you forgot yours for the third time in a row.

“You should carry a bag,” he mumbled, not looking at you.

“You should carry less judgment,” you shot back sweetly, and he scoffed, just enough to make you feel victorious.

You didn’t know why he kept letting you borrow his books. He barely seemed to like people, and yet every time you arrived breathless and unprepared, he’d slide one across the table with a sigh like it was inevitable. Like he’d been expecting it.

So you thanked him in the only way you could: you doodled in the margins.

At first, it was dumb stuff—tiny frogs saying “ribbit” during momentum formulas, or stick figures in increasingly dramatic death poses next to your least favorite equations. Then it became… something more.

"Don’t fall asleep in class again today." "You’re really good at this, even if you pretend you’re not." "If you ever smile during lectures I’ll pass out." (That one was in pink gel pen with little hearts.)

Si-eun never said anything. But he never erased them either.

A month later, you spotted something.

A fat envelope stuffed into the front of his folder. Peeking out of the corner?

Your frog doodle.

Your handwriting.

He was keeping them.

Your stomach did a little somersault, like a frog of its own had launched off a lily pad directly into your chest. You didn’t say anything, too nervous to ask—but suddenly every exchange between you felt different. His stares lingered longer. His tone had softened.

And one day, when you passed back a borrowed workbook with another silly message inside—"Can you believe you’re the hottest guy in linear algebra?"—his hand caught yours.

“Do you do that for everyone?” he asked.

You blinked. “Do what?”

“Write stuff.” He looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “In their books.”

Your mouth went dry. “No. Just yours.”

A long pause. Then:

“Good.”

You never kissed Yoo Si-eun for the first time. It just… happened.

One moment you were sitting beside him in the library, knees pressed together under the table, and the next he leaned in like it was a secret, like it was something he’d been wanting to tell you for a long time but couldn’t say out loud.

So he showed you instead.

His lips were warm, shy at first, then hungry. His hands—always so careful when flipping pages—were suddenly gripping your waist like you might vanish. And when you pulled back, just a little breathless, he didn’t let you go.

“I like it,” he said quietly, “when you say things out loud.”

Your heart flipped. “What things?”

He leaned his forehead against yours. “That you like me.”

Your cheeks burned. “I do.”

“Then say it.”

“I like you.”

He kissed you again, firmer this time. “Again.”

“I really like you, Si-eun.”

You felt him smile against your mouth.

“Okay,” he murmured, voice dipping. “Now say something else.”

[⛔ SMUT BELOW | soft, emotional, a little needy 🫶🍶💗]

By the time you were back at his apartment—your hand still in his, your bag discarded somewhere near the door—neither of you could stop smiling.

He sat on the edge of his bed, watching you take off your shoes, his eyes trailing your every move like you were some kind of dream he didn’t quite believe.

“Come here,” he said softly.

You stepped between his knees.

He tilted his head up to look at you, then reached up to tug you down, letting you straddle his lap.

Kisses turned lazy. Melty. Like the tension had cracked and now all that was left was warmth.

His hands slid under your shirt like he was learning a language—fingertips skating along your sides, your back, anywhere he could touch. He pulled the shirt over your head carefully, slowly, like he didn’t want to miss a single second of seeing you.

You did the same to him, admiring the way his skin flushed beneath your fingers.

“I wanted this,” he whispered, brushing his lips along your collarbone. “For a long time.”

You laughed gently. “But you never said anything.”

He met your eyes. “You never said anything either.”

You kissed his cheek, then lower—down his jaw, down his throat, until he hissed softly and cradled your hips against his.

“I want to hear you say everything,” he breathed.

“Everything?”

He nodded. “What you want. What you feel.”

You nuzzled against his neck. “I want you to touch me.”

His fingers dug into your thighs. “Where?”

You leaned in, whispering the answer into his ear. His breath caught—and then his hands were on you, exactly where you needed them.

He took his time. Like reading one of your notes—again and again and again, just to make sure he understood every word.

By the time he was inside you, you were saying everything.

That he felt too good. That he was too deep. That you couldn’t believe this was real.

He answered you with kisses and low, breathy groans, and soft-spoken words that spilled out between thrusts like he couldn’t stop himself either:

“You’re so warm.” “You always smell so good.” “I wanted to fuck you since midterms.” “I keep every single note.”

You kissed him harder. Wrapped your legs tighter around him. Clung like you’d never let go.

And he let you.

Held you.

Until both of you came undone.

Later, when you were curled up in his bed—his hand tracing lazy patterns on your arm—he said, “I’ll keep writing things too.”

You blinked sleepily. “In my books?”

“No.” He looked at you, smiling. “On your skin.”

#fluff #smut #cute #weak hero class 1 #weak hero class two #weak hero class one #fwb #weak hero class #weak hero fanfic #sieun x reader #yeon sieun #sieun #yeon sieun x reader #whc #park sieun #weakheroclass1

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delulujuls · 1 year ago

Text

i'd give you the whole world if i only knew its price | ls18

am i a lance's girlie? no. am i becoming a lance's girlie? dont look at me

he seems so sweet idk why people hate on him

summary: lance's love language is giving gifts and when it came to giving something in return he'll accept only one way

warnings: none

pairing: fem!bffreader x lance stroll

The little girl sat on the curb, tears streaming down her rosy, tear-stained cheeks. In her tiny hands, she held her shattered helmet, unfit for further use. The girl wasn't crying because her father had scolded her for accidentally damaging the helmet. Instead, it was because, until she could find a replacement, she wouldn't be able to race with the other kids. That is, if there were any funds available for a new one.

Seeing the seven-year-old in tears, a slightly older boy, aware of the reason behind her distress, approached her with his newly purchased helmet in hand, crouching down in front of her.

"Here, you can have mine."

The girl stopped sobbing as he sat beside her, handing her the helmet, which she hesitantly accepted.

"I can't take it, my dad doesn't have any money left."

"You can take it, I always have two helmets with me."

The boy smiled at her, but uncertainty still lingered on her face. He glanced toward his father, who stood under one of the tents, observing the children a few meters away. Seeing the tearful face of the girl and the joyful expression on his son's face, he also smiled slightly and nodded.

"See?" he said, squeezing her hands that held the helmet. "My dad agreed. You can take it as a gift."

"Really?"

While her face was still wet from tears, her eyes no longer radiated sadness. Looking into the brown eyes of the boy, he nodded and he stood up, extending his hand.

"By the way, I'm Lance. Now, come on, it's about to start!"

"Please, Y/N, don't be like that."

The boy slumped onto the hotel bed, closely watching the girl's face on his phone screen.

"I'm sorry, Lance, but I can't."

She replied, her phone propped up against a coffee mug, engrossed in browsing job listings on her laptop.

"Why can't you just take it as a gift?"

Y/N scoffed and shook her head.

"Every month you give me some gift, Lance. Last month, as a 'gift,' you bought me a Birkin bag, and I don't even want to know how much it cost."

"You said your bag was falling apart, I wanted to make you happy."

She sighed and shifted her gaze to her phone. Lance looked at her attentively with his puppy eyes, visibly concerned. He wasn't seeing any problem here.

"The bag is gorgeous, and you have no idea how much joy you brought me," she said with grattitude in her voice. "But even a simple Target bag would make me happy, you know?"

"Yeah, probably. But this one is okay too, right?"

She laughed and shook her head.

"It's beautiful. Thank you very much."

Hearing her words, Lance breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing her smile, he did the same.

"So, if you want to repay me, let me fly you to Bahrain."

She lowered her gaze, and the smile faded from her face. Barely scraping by on bills and struggling to find a new job, spending her remaining money on plane tickets was the last thing on her mind. Even if, it could cover just one ticket.

"I can't afford to visit you, Lance."

"That's why let me take care of it. We haven't seen each other for so long, and I want to finally see you and start this season together," he said, looking at her worried face. Money meant nothing to him; he could send a private jet to pick her up, just to have her with him. "Please, Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"I feel so embarrassed. I'll never be able to repay you for all of this."

"So, is it a yes? Can I book the tickets?"

He asked, hope in his voice, and a smile slowly crept back onto his face.

"Fine, but no more gifts this month, okay?"

"I'll try to meet that condition."

Lance and Y/N had been friends since the day he noticed her crying next to the carting track, holding her damaged helmet. They remained friends through all the years of go-karting, and their friendship persisted even when Y/N had to give up racing due to financial reasons.

At first, though she shudders at the thought even now, she hated Lance with every fiber of her being. It wasn't him she despised, but the obscene amounts of money his father had, providing him with everything he could dream of. Y/N was aware that Lance had both many fans and critics, so every time she came across unfavorable comments about him online, she felt embarrassed. After all, she used to cry and curse him every night, even though deep down, she didn't hate him; she just disliked the situation he was in, which she was not allowed to have.

Lance himself knew that without money, he would never have entered the serious world of motorsport. Numerous training sessions, expensive lessons, academy tests – Lance knew that money secured his current position, but talent couldn't be bought. He knew he could drive, and even the people who hated him online knew it too, disliking him simply because he succeeded. Being in Formula 1 cost the Canadian a lot, as he constantly felt like he didn't belong there. Even in the paddock, despite rarely facing personal comments, he knew many saw him as the boy with his daddy's big money. Lance often felt lonely, so he deeply appreciated every moment he could spend with Y/N. No one was as important to him as she was.

However, Y/N focused on being an ordinary teenager after giving up her motorsport career. She finished high school, got into college, even found a job and rented an apartment. Although her life didn't unfold exactly as she wanted, she stayed connected to motorsport through Lance, whom she supported as much as she could. Now things were getting complicated again as the season was about to begin, meaning she could only cheer for him from her couch. But for Lance, there were no such limitations. If he could solve a problem with money, he would. Furthermore, Lance found immense joy in showering Y/N with various gifts. Giving her presents was his love language, something that Y/N had no clue about.

"There she is."

Lance smiled at the sight of his friend, who stepped out of the taxi in front of one of the Bahrain hotels. She returned the smile, hugging him.

"I was talking about the bag, but it's nice to see you too," he teased, pointing to the Birkin she was holding, prompting her to playfully nudge him. Lance chuckled and embraced her, taking her suitcase and leading her inside the hotel.

"I hope the flight was okay and you're full of energy because we're going to a team dinner tonight."

"So, basically your dad is inviting us to dinner?"

She asked jokingly, looking at him as they entered the elevator.

"Technically, yes, my dad is inviting us to dinner."

Y/N laughed, "Well, Lawrence Stroll can't be refused."

Shortly afterward, they were on the right floor where both of them had their rooms. Lance handed her the key card and when she entered her room, she noticed a bouquet of roses and a small package on the bed.

"Lance..."

Turning around, she saw him biting his lip, trying to hide his smile.

"Yes, yes, I know, we had a deal. But these roses were practically free and the little gift next to it is, let's say, a shared one."

He explained, putting aside her suitcase. She also placed her bag down and approached the bed, picking up the bouquet of white roses. She smelled one and smiled, feeling their pleasant fragrance. Lance smiled too.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Open the gift."

He encouraged her, leaning against the wall.

She smelled the flowers once more and put them aside, taking the small package wrapped in black ribbon. As she untied it and unwrapped the light-colored paper, she discovered the familiar shade of green. It was a long, satin dress with thin straps, in the characteristic color of Aston Martin. She smiled to herself.

"I guess this is for tonight's dinner?"

Lance nodded, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful," she ran her fingers over the fabric, "I hope you have a shirt in the same color."

He chuckled.

"Don't worry, I won't disappoint you."

Indeed, at the agreed-upon time, Lance showed up at her door, wearing a shirt in the same color, black jeans, and matching shoes. He smiled at the sight of his friend, who opened the door ready to go.

"You look gorgeous. The color suits you."

Y/N laughed and closed the door behind her.

"That's good because otherwise, I would have to wear the white dress I brought with me, and someone might think I'm supporting Haas."

Lance laughed at her words, pleased to spend these few days with his friend. Honestly, he only stopped feeling lonely when she was around or when they had the chance to talk on FaceTime. Of course, it wasn't the same as having her physically by his side.

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere and time flowed effortlessly. Lawrence invited everyone who had arrived with Aston Martin to Bahrain, so instead of reserving a specific number of tables, Lance's father rented the entire restaurant for the evening.

Celebrating the team's excellent work during the winter months, the tables were adorned with champagne and white wine. Y/N had forgotten how weak her head could be, so after two glasses of wine during dinner, a slight buzz started to occupy her mind. Apologizing to Lance under the pretext of going to the bathroom, she stepped outside, sitting on the balcony. Despite being February, Bahrain offered pleasant temperatures, and even after the dark, a warm breeze caressed her exposed arms.

"Here you are."

The girl jumped, hearing his voice.

"You weren't around for half an hour, and I had the waitress check if something happened to you in the bathroom."

"I needed some fresh air."

Y/N replied, smiling at him. She noticed Lance's steps were a bit unsteady and a blush adorned his cheeks. When he sat next to her, she giggled.

"I can't believe we got tipsy."

Lance chuckled and rubbed his face with his hands.

"I won't lie, I'm feeling a bit dizzy."

Still giggling, the girl rested her head on his shoulder. Lance wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you invited me."

"I'd give you the whole world if I only knew its price."

Hearing his words, Y/N raised her head and looked at his face. His brown, gentle eyes gazed at her affectionately and a faint smile played on the corners of his lips. Lance tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb.

"I hate that I can't give you anything in return."

Lance smiled, "Actually, there's something you could give me in return."

The girl raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

"You could be my girlfriend."

Y/N blinked several times, unsure if her slightly intoxicated mind was playing tricks on her or if she understood Lance correctly.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend?"

"Oh, God, you have no idea how much."

The girl smiled and, without saying a word, cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Lance hugged her even tighter, returning the kiss, feeling a burst of fireworks in his stomach. He could bring her joy with money, and she could do it in just one way.

"I love you, Lance."

With love.

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #ls18 #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll #aston martin #aston martin f1

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stars-eclipsing · 2 months ago

Text

someone on twt said one of the variants had a slave kink, so I ran with it.

Tags: Use of restrictions, bdsm, sub and dom dynamics (not heavy), sub!mark obviously, stoplight system used, sounding, uhh i think thats it idk Word count: 4.5k (no comment)

I wanted to make something that was entertaining yet simultaneously sexy, so I hope that worked!

This work is inspired by this picture! Show some love, the artist is amazing!! (I wanted to include the thong but I didn't really know how to. Plus, it was already getting a lot and i got overwhelmed So, uh... *audience boos*)

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The chain above Mark rattles when he pulls on it. The metal is thick and mounted to the ceiling far above. (courtesy of him) So it's pretty secure, he’d say; and nothing really feels wrong… so why was he just a tiny bit scared?

From across the room, you fiddle with some objects in a smooth black box. You're broken out of your concentration when you hear him twist and squirm.

You spare him a glance, raising a brow, “...‘You doing okay over there?”

Mark pulls on the chain again, furrowing his brows at it in thought, “Shouldn’t it be stronger?” He lifts his head at an awkward angle to look at you, “I mean— you know I could break out of this easily, right?”

You pick up the box and walk over to him, setting it on the bed for later. Then, you look down on him, trying to get a good look at his current state. At the inspection, he feels his face growing slightly pink.

“That’s not the point.” You cross your arms, looking into his eyes, “You’re not my hostage, Mark. That’s the idea. You’re purposefully relinquishing control over to me, so you can feel good.” You tilt your head,

“Got it?”

“Uh–” He looks at you with a blush across his face then nods slowly, swallowing, “Um, yeah. I think I got it.”

You smile nicely, playing with the thin, silky belt of your robe, “Good.”

Mark’s eyes immediately land on the black silk, focused on the way your fingers teasinging go over it, “So…” He looks back at you with a smirk, “Am I the only one that’s gonna be undressed here, or…?” He teases, but you can tell he’s nervous.

You do believe that a healthy dosage of nervousness and…fear is good. Even advisable. But, Mark seems to be far too on edge. And, well, we can’t have that, can we?

And so, you decide that now’s a time as ever to show a little sweetness. You crouch down to his level, mustering the most disarming look you can and whisper, “Just be patient.” You use your fingers to gently trace the skin below his briefs, and you feel the strong muscle beneath flex. At the sight, you hum in approval. “You can do that, right? Be good and patient?” You splay your hand over his stomach, looking directly into his eyes, “So you can have nice things.”

His eyes flit away nervously under your gaze, and he wants to run away, feeling overwhelmed already. But he stays put. “Yes.”

“Hmm? Yes, what?”

“Um…yes…ma’am?”

You giggle, tapping his hip, “Good boy.” Then stand up to look through the box on the bed.

He groans, trying to cover his face with his forearms, “This is so not okay.” His voice cracks endearingly in the middle of the sentence. Thank god Mark can’t see your face right now, because you’re trying to suppress a laugh. And if he sees you laughing at him, he may actually run.

From the mysterious black box, you take out a thin wand. It’s silver and metallic, with a sizable ball at the end. On the rod itself are variously sized balls. It’s very pretty and dainty in your opinion. It suits Mark in that regard.

Inside the box is another rod. Except, this one has a lithe tip that thickens as it goes down. It's painted a dull black, and looks far meaner. But you can’t judge a book by its cover, only by how good it’ll feel inside of Mark. You hold the silver one in your hand and look at the black one.

Decisions, decisions…

However, your train of thought is cut off by a wobbly voice down below, “Babe!” Mark whines from the cushion on the floor, you look behind your shoulder to see a very pink and pouty Mark Grayson. He sighs when he sees your reasonably unimpressed face. A face that his ego does not take lightly. However, his hot head between his legs seems to trump the one between his shoulders. “Don't take too long, it's weird being here all by myself…” He looks away, “I want you here with me.” He mumbles that last part.

You’d chastise him for neglecting the first rule you’d told him only a mere minute ago, but you internally (and perhaps graciously) decide to forgive him because he does look like he’s going to melt… And a sad Mark does make you sad…

Alright then, lightwork. Just decide quickly, by using clever Jean-Paul Sarte’s decision-making philosophy. You believe it went something like…

Eenie… meenie… minie… moe…

There we go. Silver one it is.

To avoid scaring the trembling kitty at your feet, you place it outside of his line of view when you sit back down between his legs. He doesn’t even notice, more attentive to the fact that you’re here with him.

As a reward for being so (im)patient with you, you lean down to place a kiss on Mark’s lips. However, you stop just a few centimeters away from his mouth to watch how he chases after your lips. It’s cruel, but can anyone blame you? It’s endearing.

You hold his warm face as you kiss him, and he kisses you back in earnest. Even though needy and fidgety, Mark takes his time to suck on the supple flesh of your lips before escalating, which you highly approve of. You make sure he knows that by running your right hand slowly down his body, landing just below his waist. Your index finger teasingly pulls on the waistband of his briefs, and Mark backs away from your mouth to huff. Above the both of you, you hear his chains clatter together as he instinctively tries to touch you too. He groans in your mouth when he realizes he’s restricted. How cute.

His bottom lip juts out and you already hear the complaint on the tip of his tongue. So, you decide to distract him from his neediness by alleviating it. Your kiss-bitten lips lean down to his jaw to begin to place kisses along it. You make your way down his neck, making sure to suck a hickey at the base of it.

He shivers at the hot, wet contact of your tongue with his sensitive neck. Instinctively, he groans and throws his head back, which is all the better for you.

You lick, suck, kiss, bite along his neck. A pleasure for you as you feel butterflies burst in your stomach. You glance up to see his flushed face, biting his lip. You can’t help the smirk that grows on your face at the sight. You blink up at him through your lashes, enamoured by how genuinely beautiful he is. But that only embarasses him, making him flush and hide his face in his bicep.

You can’t help but laugh at the sight, crawling just a little further so you’re face-to-face with him.

“Maaark,” You say musically, nosing at his cheek. He ‘Hmm?’’s

This is the usual routine. But sweet Mark, bless him, can’t seem to put two and two together.

Your hand slips beneath his briefs slowly, and he immediately jerks, pulling on the chain hard in a bout of nerves. Your eyes flit up instinctively to where it's mounted on the ceiling, but it hasn't budged. Your baby boy is so handy, it makes your heart swell. You kiss his hot cheek to try and soothe the overwhelming feeling. You feel his rapidly beating heart against yours. A wild BA-THUMP, BA-THUMP, BA-THUMP, hammering against his ribs. His heart echoes its language to yours, and you try your best to cradle it safely in your arms.

“Mark…” You whisper, kissing his cheek. You keep your face pressed to his, “I love you.”

His breath is a little ragged, but he responds anyway. Like he always does. “I love you too–!”

He ends the declaration in a groan as you gently stroke the base of his hard cock. You kiss the corner of his lips, keeping the soft, careful pace. He huffs loudly, his lungs shallowly trying to take in air as you wrap your arm around the base of him with two nimble fingers.

He lets out an “Oh!”, and his breath doesn't calm down. You kiss his pretty, flushed lips a few times. “Okay?” You ask, then correct yourself when he doesn’t respond, “Green?”

Despite the fact that he looks like he’s in complete agony, he sniffs and nods, “G-Green. Don’t stop, okay? Please.” He shuts his eyes and bucks his hips into your touch, making you gasp softly, “I wanna cum so bad.” He whines.

Oh, Viltrumites. Ever so sensitive you are.

Your lucky pretty little Mark over here has stamina, or you would have never let him orgasm this fast in a million years. You can’t just have everything you want just because you have a pretty face, you know?

You grip the base of his cock, and he throws his head back, moaning. You use your other hand to lower his briefs, then wrap around his length brutishly without a care. He whimpers at the harsh contact, the left side of his hips lifting. But you know he likes it that way. He’s so darling.

“I hope the message is clear:” Your hot breath against his face makes him whimper, “You can cum, but I won’t be nice about it. Do we have a deal, bunny?”

The pretty nickname makes him groan breathily, and he nods furiously. “Deal. Deal– oh, deal. Oh please, please, PLEASE–”

You move at the animalistic pace you promised him. With every stroke upwards, your fingers pay a harsh visit to his head by squeezing, making him choke. You no longer concern yourself with his cries, his “please” ‘s, or the chains threatening to break from the ceiling that it is mounted to. All you care about is delivering his wish.

However, his fidgeting is a problem. You bring your legs to hold back both his thighs. But his strength, of course, overwhelms you, no matter how delirious he may be. Your lower half ends up jostling around as you try to calm him like you would a wild steed. But if this one decides to become good, then maybe you won’t need a whip after all.

You feel it in the way that his hip stutters that he’s close. In the way that he babbles, “Love you, love you, love you–”

He bucks his hips forward one last time and he cums hard, screaming. His release spills onto his stomach, his thighs, and tarnishes the perfect black silk of your robe. Not that you mind one bit.

He breathes heavily into your neck, trying to come back to Earth. You stroke his soft black hair as he does, and kiss his forehead.

You kiss the tip of his nose and decide to ask a silly question. “Mark,” “Hmm?” He says softly. “What are you?”

His mouth is slightly open, and his eyes are glazed over. He squints his eyes, and his brows furrow as he tries to think about what you want him to say, “U-Um… your pet?”

You laugh at the sweet answer, “Yes. But also something else.”

Overwhelmed and overstimulated, his cock weeps for him as he tries to think, “Mmm- ah– Umm…”

You sit up on your haunches and undo the fastens of your sultry robe, deciding it was time to reveal the mini-surprise, since the poor silk was already filthy.

It slips from out of your arms and lands on the floor, revealing an even more seductive black lingerie. Lace lines the cup of the bra and where it ends thinly below your hips. It connects to a pair of garters on your thighs and ends at the long, sheer black thigh highs.

Evil, but make it sexy.

You smile down at him, “The answer is mine.”

You move your hair out of your face to see Mark’s face, and it’s nothing short of awestruck. His mouth hangs open, and the glaze in his eyes clear as he tries to focus on the view in front of him. You think you see some drool escape his pink lips, but you’re more focused on the silver rod you hold in your hand, something Mark is not.

His cock twitches, and he makes a small sound at the back of his throat. Then, he reels it in to form a sentence, “Was all that just-just foreplay or something?” He asks nervously, but with the way the corner of his lip twitches upwards, you suspect he can handle it.

You smirk, “It can be anything you like.” You position your legs on either side of his abdomen, then lower to a kneel, right above your most beloved part of him, (other than his big, loving heart) his well-defined abs. Just looking at them makes you groan.

Deciding you want his undivided attention, you blink pretty eyes at him as he looks up at you with an unsure, but needy expression. You already feel his dick come to life once again from behind you. It makes you shiver.

“Do you want a show, Mark?” You move the suit's crotch to the side, teasingly slow. His eyes are trained on the area between your thighs, focused and unblinking.

“Yes–” His sentence cuts off awkwardly, and he looks up at you, “Please.” Noticing the way you slightly raise your eyebrows, he adds, “Ma’am.”

You send an approving smile his way, and he shakily smiles back.

“Well, you haven’t been on your best behavior…” His stomach tenses from underneath you, and his throat tightens up, “But…” You smile, “You did your best. But just know that won’t be enough next time. I expect perfect. Isn’t that right?”

He immediately nods, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Though it stings, he’s thankful for your leniency.

“Besides, you’re my good boy.” You hum, then move the thin fabric to the side, exposing your dripping core. He gasps instantly at the sight, then lets out a needy sound at the back of his throat. Your entrance pulses at the intense gaze it’s receiving, which just makes Mark swallow, “So, you’re allowed to be spoiled every once in a while, right?”

He nods, licking his lips, “Yes.” He looks up at you with his pretty doe eyes, “Yes, please. Thank you.”

At his blatant display of eagerness, you can’t help but drag your free hand between your folds, making you moan in satisfaction. Mark flexes beneath you at that.

You circle your clit lithely, trying not to excite yourself too much too early. Not everyone can go on like a Viltrumite. “You know, Mark,” His eyes snap up to your own, hanging to your every word with obscenely rapt attention, “I may need some help.” He bites his bottom lip with a groan. You bite your own to stifle a giggle.

You continue to circle leisurely at your clit. Seductively, you whisper, “Can you help me, Mark?”

You hear the chains above you rattle and clatter from above you immediately. He seemed to have forgotten the constraints and wanted to lunge to you, but was only able to lift his upper body slightly. Once he realizes the cause of his failed attempt, he looks up at the chains with a deep frown and furrowed brows, suddenly wishing he could break it into a million tiny pieces.

Then, he directs his unimpressed gaze to you, trying to garner sympathy by whining your name pathetically, “Please?” He pulls on them lightly, “Off?”

You snort, then slip a finger just between your folds, but not going further. Simply teasing your entrance. Mark is back to his entranced stare without needing to be told twice, mesmerized by the way the tip of your finger immediately slicks up from your wetness.

Saliva pools in his mouth, and he swallows it before he speaks, “Please– I can help—”

You both gasp when your finger slips in your entrance, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Your thumb comes forward to begin circling your clit. You struggle to time the thrusts with the way you tease your clit. But after a few seconds, you capture it perfectly, enunciated by the way you moan louder.

“You like this, Mark?” You huff, looking down at his enraptured face, his jaw agape into an ‘o’ shape, “See what you do to me? This is all you. You make me so fucking horny, know that?” He whines at your filthy words, and pulls on the chains. His pretty pink face nods, wanting to close his eyes shut but not wanting to miss a second.

“Y-You said I could help.” He begs with a flex of his hip, bucking up into the air. You bring your hand down to the side of your hip.

“Control yourself,” You pull your finger out, it’s wet and covered in the scent of your essence. You lower yourself down on his abdomen, making him gasp. You moan softly, the feeling of his chiseled stomach against your sensitive clit making your pussy clench. You gently rock yourself on him, the movement making your sight heady with lust, and all you can see is Mark below you, panting like a dog. You bring your hand to his chest, “And you can help.”

You grind yourself against his abdomen, with no intention of coming anytime soon. Only to arouse yourself further. You need to be as wet as possible for what you want to do.

But Mark feels so good. Not to mention, his wanton whimpers and moans only boost your pleasure. His hip still jerks and flexes from beneath your hand, his dick wanting to be touched and played with desperately, but he doesn’t dare voice it. You don’t even think he notices with how hard he’s staring at your soaking wet entrance.

You feel your head get lost in the momentary pleasure. The feeling of wanting to come suddenly bursting in your stomach, and you have to physically shake your head to clear it of its wanton haze. Aimlessly, your other hand scrambles to the sounding rod next to you. Mark swallows audibly and makes a dizzy ‘Huh?’ sound, but you pay it no mind.

You will yourself to concentrate as you angle the silver wand to insert it between your folds, the ball of it to the front of your crotch, close to your clit where your fingers hold it in place. You look down to see a speechless Mark. You can practically see his empty brain try to form a cognizant thought as he tries to register what it is you’re doing.

You move the handle of it forward slowly, the balls on the wand glide through your folds and your clit with slicked ease, making you gasp. It steadily comes out the other side, in plain view of Mark. He angles his head even further forward to take a good look at it. It’s already gleaming with the beautiful sight of your wetness. His mouth falls open further, his tongue threatening to loll out, and his cock throbs.

He whines your name as he stares at the wand, suddenly painfully aware of how jealous he is of it. Mindlessly, he only lightly pulls on the chain, subconsciously realizing that his effort is futile, since he is not going anywhere anytime soon. Just a reflex.

“You like it?” You smile, turning it so the light catches on the slicked metal, “I picked it out for you. I thought you’d think it was pretty.”

“U-Um— What?” He says intelligently, having not heard a word you said.

In that case, you decide to go for a more physical approach, taking his jaw and angling it downwards to look at nothing but the silver wand and your cunt. You make it pass backwards again quickly, and you almost choke on the feeling.

“I said– Do you like it?” You bear through the pleasure-pain to bring it back forwards in front of him, so he can take a decent look. You feel a glob of his spit drip down your thumb.

He nods quickly, trying his best to get into your good graces, “I like it, like you.” He blabbers.

“Do you know what it is?”

He nods immediately again, his eyes glazed over and his expression drilled in on your wet core. Wet for him, wet ‘cause of him, love him, you love him, gonna fucking come— His dick twitches at his train of thought, and it bleeds precum insistently. He blinks and tries his very best to answer you, “Suh- So- Me?” He replies astutely.

You hold onto his shoulders, digging your nails into the firm, strong muscle, he groans, “Yea, you want it? You wanna use it after me?”

His mouth falls open, the flush that encapsulates his face reaches down to his chest. His hip involuntarily bucks forward sharply. He whines when the motion does not reward him with any stimulation.

Drool freely escapes his mouth as he watches the wand– the wand that’s going to be inside of him, drip with your wetness. Your slick coats the entire rod, and he shivers at the obscene sight of it– at the– at the future implications of, of–

You glide the wand through your folds and simultaneous reach behind to stroke the underside of his painfully hard dick. You both moan wantonly at the same time.

His biceps strain desperately against the chains. He can’t do it, he can’t do it. He needs to touch– kiss, bite–

He feels a wetness at the head of his cock, and he gasps, taken aback by its coolness. You move to sit on his strong, thick thighs, circling the head of the wand along the head of his dick gently. Occasionally, you ‘accidentally’ swipe it along the slit of his head.

“Ah– mmm, Hah– B-Baby?” His firm thighs flex beneath you, but he’s thankful for the comforting weight as his face watches the wand move dangerously close to the hole of his urethra.

You move it daintily across the side of him, his muscular thigh jolts upwards but you can tell he’s trying his best to control himself for you, so you don’t get hurt. Aww.

You move the thin tip directly on his dick’s slit, he whimpers.

“Do you want it, pretty baby?” You insert a centimeter in, he moans, then back out, “Hm, what do you say? I got it all lubed up for you, you know.”

He nods like he’s mad, “Please, please, I wan’ it.”

He sniffs, confused on whether to watch the wand inch closer to his dick or the way your body looks in that skimpy lingerie. He whines, feeling agitated and overwhelmed.

Luckily for him, you don’t think twice before you lower the rod into his welcoming hole. He gasps, his face lowering to the sight, barely an inch in. He squirms, suddenly hyper aware and very vigilant.

You look up at him, when you find his eyes zeroed in on the sight of the textured wand slightly inside of him. You directly ask, “Green?”

He blinks, drunk on the sight and the feeling, “Yea.” He fidgets, “So green.”

You continue to lower the rod down slowly, and the first ball inserts inside of him, and he sighs, satisfied as it moves against his insides. Using the chains to help him, he sits up a little more and seeks your lips.

You grant it to him, sucking on his bottom lip gingerly. You continued to push the rod down, and the feeling of the tiny spheres moving inside of him was starting to make him antsy, his thighs jutting and flexing insistently. But he still kisses you back, albeit sloppily. You keep going, inching the silver rod further into him.

He breaks the kiss with the gasp when the entire thing is inside of him, the handle jutting out.

He pants, trying to get accustomed to the feeling of something so…big inside somewhere as sensitive as his dick. He didn’t think it's that big, especially not when you were playing with it, but now, it feels huge.

You hum at the sight, and don't bother to push it back when his hole slowly tries to push it out. You say the first thing that comes to mind, “You would look very pretty with a dick piercing.”

He grows bashful, despite the fact that he’s fully naked in front of you with a rod you’ve shoved up his cock, “Uh, really?” He says hesitantly, “Well, uh maybe I’ll get one? If you like it, I mean…”

You laugh at his nervousness, holding the handle between three fingers, “Yeah. Why not?” You say airily, throwing him off before pull at the handle quickly, leaving only one ball inside of his painfully hard cock. He gasps, letting out a shaky moan as he pants.

“O-Ow! I'm– sensitive, you know.” He pouts at you.

You chuckle deliriously, “You’re beautiful.” You push the wand completely back in, deep inside of his cock, then back out, letting the texture on the rod do its magic.

Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out, in, out, in, Out In Out In Out In–

Mark screams, squeezing his eyes shut as the feeling waahes over him, eating him whole. He digs the heels of his feet onto the floorboards, and you hear a snap, snap, snap.

You don't concern yourself with the chains that rattle above you wildly as Mark tries to control what, when, and why. His head rolls back and forth quickly, trying to alleviate the feeling, but it just makes it worse.

“Hah— Cum.” He says haphazardly, bucking his hips forward to match your thrusts “‘m gonna, cu-ahm!” He feels himself scream so loud, he wonders if the entire neighborhood could hear.

You grip his shoulder with one hand, digging your fingernails in, “Mhm, yeah, gonna cum?” You thrust the wand faster into his pretty cock, “Cum pretty baby, do it.”

He pants and nods, obeying you. He meets the wand at the exact moment you shove it back inside of him, entering him excruciatingly deep, and he cries. He cries as he cums, he cries when you quickly pull out the wand to watch the way his release paints his stomach and thighs.

A few more weak spurts come out of his twitchy cock, and he whimpers.

You look at your sticky, dirty hands, and a dizzy chuckle comes over you. You instinctively put a finger into your mouth and suck, tasting his semen

At the sight, Mark moans, “Ah, shit.” You look up at him, and a loud clash is heard. He breaks free of his chains and lunges at you, toppling over you on the floor. You fall with an audible oomph.

He kisses at your jaw, and you feel his hard dick against your thigh. In that moment, he plays cheeky and uses your own words against you, “Wanna cum?”

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a/n: For those of you who are curious, the quote by Jean-Paul Satre is: "Man is nothing else but what he makes himself." i.e. that our decisions create our own essence. so thats a quick philosophy fact to impress your co workers ;)

Funnily enough, I spent an indecent amount of time trying to decide between Friedrich Nietzsche and Jean-Paul. Then, I realized that 1) Not everyone is a philosophy major, or into existentialism, so they wouldn't give a fuck who that even is. 2) Even if they were, they still wouldn't give a fuck because its literally bdsm smut. Talk about a reality check!

This took a while so I hope its up to par... ugh.

Hope you all enjoyed <3 mwah

#me gambling my bfs pleasure using eenie meenie minie moe #hehe i hope u like ittt #invincible #invincible show #invincible x reader #invincible smut #mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #eclipse's case files #eclipse's mark grayson

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