#its like down the whole left side of my face and into my ear

[ohmygodshesinsane]

Drop-Off | A Jily Micro-Oops

James Potter takes Lily Evans home, and wants to make something clear.

words: 1941 | for @jilymicro-oops | april prompt 22: ridiculous

sequel to unlicensed

read on ao3 or under the cut

“Hilarious, Potter. Left again.” James made a face and did as she said, playing it off like a laugh, still barely able to believe that she was in his car, in his proximity, breathing the same air as him.

“It’s like a rollercoaster.”

“It should be shut down.”

“Oi.” He jabbed his pinkie finger at the indicator and nudged it up, though the street was deserted. The blinker click-click-clicked, and a cat watched him from the top of a faded brick letterbox, tail flicking.

These roads were unfamiliar. They nestled together only a few blocks from the beach, but they were distinct from the shiny rows of glassy mid-rises, with their acai shops and coastal boutiques tucked beneath sprawling apartments. Sad single-storey brick homes dominated the little suburb of Cokeworth, gutters wonky, red-tile roofs slumping in the blunted sunlight. A leather lounge teetered on the curb, its peeling seats and flaking arms praying for a good home. James’s foot hovered on the brake, idling them along.

“Your joint’s around here?” he asked, frowning. In all his daydreams, he had never imagined Lily Evans living here. None of these places had room for the Beauty-and-the-Beast library her good grades demanded, or a pool for her to lay by in summer’s heights. No old ladies fidgeted, waiting for a reckless do-gooder to escort them across the street. A dog barked through the missing panes of a grey-wood fence.

“Nah,” Evans said, shrugging hard. “Just thought we’d take the scenic route.” She rapped her knuckles on the window. “Entertained?”

James swallowed. Touchy. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, cruising along, squashing down the sinking feeling that her sharp little remarks always wrought. She was just some girl in his class. She wasn’t Lizzie – Lizzie, who would be coming round later to ‘study for Chem’ in the media room, Lizzie who James had just invited to Pete’s birthday, Lizzie from the netball team, Lizzie who he reckoned he might properly ask out soon. Lizzie, not Lily.

Sure, some girl he’d liked when he was thirteen was sitting in the front seat, dark red hair pulled back in the swish of a ponytail, one knee slung over the other at the edge of her regulation black skirt, but it was whatever. She shifted, and her maroon jumper rose with the arch of her back and the stretch of her arms, revealing a swathe of the white cotton blouse beneath. Tiny gold hoop things glinted in her ears, and the light caught the flecks of forest in the emeralds of her gaze –

“Bump!” As Evans shouted, the car hit it, and the car hiked awkwardly over the raised crossing. “Jesus, again. It’s not GTA.”

“GTA’s not allowed in my house,” James answered flippantly. “It’s offensive to women.”

Evans guffawed; in the corner of his vision (because he really was trying to focus on the road now), she folded her arms indignantly, cheeks red. Bugger. Truth be told, he couldn’t say precisely why he had offered up his vaguely-illicit chauffeur service when he’d seen Snape stalk off without her. Evans had working legs – no, James wasn’t going to think about them, moving on – and was capable of walking herself home without that idiot hanging around. His eyes sharpened, raking down the sides of the street, as if the git might materialise. But in any case, it wouldn’t be dark for hours. Evans could have got herself home no worries. The words had just flung out of James’s mouth before he could think, and then he’d nearly keeled over with shock when she’d accepted, and so – here they sat.

Maybe the guilt from lunchtime had crept in. James had copped a week of detentions and a call home, but Lily had been hauled into McGonagall’s office, despite being innocent in the whole matter. She hadn’t destroyed Snape’s project. That fucker deserved it. James’s knuckles whitened around the wheel. Where the hell did he get off, talking to her that way? And now the whole school was muttering about prissy prefect Lily Evans getting a talking-to, and she’d not done a thing wrong – she was the one who had been wronged. His fingers itched for Snape’s throat. Half of James wanted to chuck a u-turn and speed back until he found the sulky little Slytherin, and then he could land one right in the middle of his stupid, petulant, ugly –

“Are you kidding?” Oh, shit. James was doing fifteen over. Not that Evans’s eyes were on the speedo – she grinned at him, mirth sparkling, and his heart somersaulted. “You don’t play GTA because you’re such a feminist?”

James made a rude hand gesture, swerving a little as he looked back at her. He scrambled to correct it.

“I am a feminist,” he said, a little offended. “Mum banned it besides. She goes mental whenever Sirius sticks the girly pictures up. Bad for body image. And what would Lizzy think, if I spent all my time murdering hookers and dealing drugs? In real life, sure, it’s street cred and money, but online that’s just depressing.” That wasn’t an exact summary of why he avoided it, but he wasn’t about to imitate a video essay. He watched too many of those. Really, though, Lara Croft has gone through the wringer! He’d nodded along with the Youtuber’s words while Sirius killed cultists on their Xbox.

Evans’s eyes narrowed. “Next right, and it’s two from the end on the left,” she said off-handedly, gaze still roaming across the planes of his face. He slowed, waiting for a car to pass before he made the turn. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Believe me?” James took the gap and lurched down the cul-de-sac. “I mean it, Evans. Street cred is everything. If I was a loser, I wouldn’t be a Marauder, would I?”

She rolled her eyes. “You are a loser. Nobody who’s actually cool gives themselves such stupid nicknames. It’s not like you’re a band.”

“We’ve considered it.”

“I remember Remus on the clarinet at the ANZAC assembly; please stop considering it.”

The brakes screeched; James stopped halfway down the lane, head whipping around. Evans clapped her hands over her mouth, cheeks flaming.

“Oh my god,” she said, irises as wide as starbursts. “Shit. Oh my god. That was a horrible thing to say.”

Electricity crackled from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers; had Lily Evans really just said that? Laughter burst from his lips, chest aching, stomach spasming as he gasped for air. Perfect prefect Evans thought Remus was shit at clarinet. Of everything today, that was the strangest.

“No,” Evans said, “shut up, don’t laugh – I didn’t mean that –”

“You did, though,” James gasped, eyes swimming with tears. Her red hair swirled into the air like tendrils of smoke, in the blur of his vision.

“It was a mistake,” she insisted. “I meant…”

“That Remus’s performances make you envy the deaf?”

Evans whacked him lightly on the arm. James lost his breath. The warmth of her touch burned like embers in a hearth, long after her fleeting fingers knotted together, far from his skin.

“He’s your mate,” she accused. “Shouldn’t you be defending his honour?”

James’s tongue poked at the fleshy inside of his cheek. “He works hard, he’s a laugh, he keeps us on track… sort of. I’ll defend that. But honesty is my policy, Evans. Sirius and I have fantasised about throwing that bloody thing in the creek.”

“So we have the same fantasies,” Evans grumbled. “Fantastic.”

His nails left crescent moons on the leather of the wheel. Probably not, he thought. Definitely not.

“The truth comes out in your mistakes, Evans. When your guard’s down.” He lifted his foot, rolling the little way down the rest of the street. She inhaled - the change of tone in his voice had been clearer than he'd intended.

“When people are angry, they say things they don’t mean.” He pulled up outside the second house from the end. This one was timber rather than brick, older than the others, raised on a brick platform. Low shrubs and strangled flowers lined the concrete path from the curb, and further down, gravel tracks rolled down the side of the house and out the back. Rickety stairs led up to the front door, the security screen rusted and faded. Yellow curtains hung in the windows. An old wooden chair waited on the porch, beneath two hand-painted signs – one welcoming all, and a second warning off ‘Jehovers’. Bits of hose littered the front garden. The red-lidded bin bulged with black rubbish bags. Evans shifted, turning her body as if to block the view of the house out the passenger window. The colour leeched from her face; her eyes were luminous. She tugged at the collar of her school jumper.

“I don’t know if I agree with you,” James said frankly, shifting the car into ‘park’ and pulling the handbrake. Evans’s hand rested on the handle of the door.

“I fight with my sister all the time,” Evans said. “I don’t really hate her.”

“Not now,” James said, “but in that moment… I don’t know. Maybe. It’s a feeling, not a resolution. I don’t think you say anything you haven’t felt before. Anger doesn’t make you a different person, you know? It just sort of… sharpens bits.”

The door opened, and Evans scooped up her backpack, halfway out the car.

“Thanks,” she said sharply. “For the ride.”

“Evans –”

“Thank you.”

James unclicked his belt, climbing over the gearbox. He caught the door as it swung shut, opening it again.

“Evans!” She stilled with her back to him, standing on the browning grass, bag hanging by one strap. James took a deep breath. “Evans, you have to know that – that word doesn’t just slip out.”

She whirled around, face hard, eyes wet. “It’s not really up to you to decide what I have to know, actually, Potter.” But she was listening to him. He ran his fingers through his hair, the gearstick digging into his stomach as he leaned across. He looked like an idiot, probably. He didn’t care.

“You deserve better,” he said. Evans flinched. Her lips curled cruelly.

“What, someone like you? I heard what you said to him. You’re not any better –”

“I didn’t call him that –”

“He’s been my friend since I was seven, Potter.” Her face crumpled; she turned her face to the sky, eyes shut. “You don’t get it. You could never get it. He’s the one that knows.” An angry arm flicked at the street. “I bet your bedroom’s air-conditioned.”

James frowned. “Yeah,” he said, flummoxed – what did that have to do with anything? “I mean – not me. I didn’t mean me. We would never… but not Snape. You deserve better than him. You have more than two options, you know.”

Slowly, she looked down at him. Trails shone on he cheeks. James pushed himself up on his hands, awkwardly manoeuvring back to his seat. Her mouth moved wordlessly; she rubbed her face, wiping the tears.

“Please don’t tell Remus what I said,” she said quietly.

“I won’t,” James said. “I promise.”

Evans smiled tightly, and then the door swung shut. James took a shuddering breath, watching as she crossed the grass and slumped up the stairs, shoving a key into the door and letting herself in. His mind churned. What didn’t he get? What didn’t he understand? The answer was beyond his reach, tantalising. He pressed his forehead to the wheel, sighing.

Lily Evans always left him with questions. He didn’t mind that. He just wished he knew how to find the answers.

#jily #jilymicrofics #jilymicroops #lily evans #james potter #hp #fanfic

[dhoranbolt]

You don't fool me

A/n: two thing- first this took me forever to write, I kept having to go back and scrap ideas 🥹 second, I did not know just how down bad I was for this man until I had to sit down and write this so.

Also friendly reminder- if your age isn't easily accessible on your profile I will not be tagging you! That said if you'd like a tag in future works let me know and I'll add you to the list!

bestie beta reader: @yukios-medic you are really the best ma'am I appreciate you so much 🥹💙💙💙

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader, Yuji pining

cw/tw: minors/ageless blogs DNI, all characters aged up, dub-con that becomes enthusiastic consent, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, threats of killing

Word count: 5k (ish)

This wasn't the first time they'd been paired up and sent off to find and kill a curse, but it was the first time Yuji was weary of the whole thing. They were both strong, that wasn't an issue – he'd been on back-to-back missions for weeks and it was starting to take its toll, that was the issue.

Of course, it didn't help that whenever he was around her, Sukuna would become an even bigger pain in the ass (than he already was).

They'd been sent to a long-abandoned warehouse, falling apart as it was, and radiating with cursed energy. Yep, whatever it was they were after was definitely in here.

"Split up to cover more ground?" She suggested as she looked up at him, but he shook his head.

"We can probably exorcize it quicker if we come across it at the same time, we should just stick together for now." It was a simple enough explanation, not a hint of 'I'm pushing my limits just being here with you' or 'it's easier to know you're safe if you're by my side' detectable.

To her, at least. Yuji chooses to ignore the scoff that resonates in his head as they cautiously enter the building. They walk side-by-side down the hallway, ears and eyes analyzing every detail of their surroundings.

"Must be one pain in the ass curse to send the both of us. I can feel the cursed energy everywhere, I just can't tell exactly where the source is." She filled the silence, wringing her hands together nervously.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s out there, but it's all about the same output. We'll just have to watch our backs." Yuji said with a nod.

"Hey, what do you think Nobara did when she found out Gojo canceled movie night to send us after this one? I can see her practically popping a vein." She laughed softly, moving around a stack of boxes to find any sign of their curse.

"Fushiguro is probably wishing it was you that got left behind right about now." Yuji guessed with a small chuckle, suppressing the thought that he might have wished for it, too. A faint gurgle sounded at the opposite end of the hall, cursed energy seeping into every corner of their bodies as it grew closer.

Yuji covered her mouth with his hand, keeping her scream muffled as he tugged her against his chest and pulled them into the shadows.

"Shh, I think I hear something." He murmurs, squinting in the darkness. He doesn't feel the mouth form on his hand, not until her lips are moving against his palm as she makes a noise.

She's gagging; trying to pry Yuji's hand off her face. And he's going to – until Sukuna's voice rings in his head.

'Pull away and I'll bite her tongue off. Try to keep her quiet while she's drowning in her own blood'

Yuji froze as Sukuna cackled, and she still struggled in his grip, now like iron to keep the curse from making good on his threat.

His name was muffled when she frantically tried to call it, but it only left her mouth open that much more for Sukuna to swipe his tongue along the inside.

If they could conceal their own cursed energy for just a second, then it would keep going on its path to the left of them, and probably wouldn't circle back around for a while. Yuji set his jaw, glaring up the hall as he spoke.

"Conceal your energy, then we'll deal with him. One curse at a time." The only confirmation she gave that she heard him was slightly loosening her grip on his arm.

The curse slunk away and Yuji held his breath, waiting to hear any sign of it coming back. When he was sure it wasn’t, he let out a sigh and threw his head back against the wall. Taking a moment to realize the situation they were still in he looked down at her.

He couldn’t see the blush in her cheeks, but he could feel the heat on his fingers. She shifted her body against his, letting out a whimper at the awkward kiss she was still locked in.

Yuji swallowed hard and took a deep breath. This was so not the time to be letting the sounds she was making go straight to his cock.

'You want her so badly, take her.' Sukuna taunted.

"No." Yuji snapped his response, trying to think of a way out of this (and the boner he was starting to sport against her back).

'Fuck her, brat. Or I'll kill her the next time I get the chance, and I'll draw it out while I make you watch.'

Sukuna knew well what he was doing, keeping this conversation in Yuji's head. She had no clue what he was trying to shield her from. Of course he wanted her, but not like this. Not when Sukuna was all but forcing his hand on the matter, not even giving her a choice.

“I said no! Knock it off!” Sukuna just chuckled, and she turned her head to look up at him with worry in her eyes.

'Or perhaps you’d like me to put us both out of commission. Tell me, just how long do you think she’d last against this curse on her own?'

Yuji’s heart dropped to his stomach. There’s no way Sukuna hated her enough to let her die like this, not with the way he found her so entertaining to him. Not with the way he currently had his tongue down the back of her throat- right?

'No, but if it would cause you everlasting turmoil, I’d jump at the chance.'

Could she ever forgive him for doing this? Would Sukuna even drop this after all was said and done?

Yuji was exhausted, and Sukuna knew it too. It was only a matter of time before he could slip out and swap places.

'I could always assist instead. After all, one wrong move and she’s on her own anyways. Go ahead brat, ask me for my help.' He grinned.

“No, last time I let you out you were a dick.” Yuji snapped, but he was running out of options here. How long until that curse realized where they were and turned back around? He could always make a deal with Sukuna, if he would agree to it was another question though.

At the sound of Yuji’s words her body tensed, blood running cold. There was no way Yuji was actually thinking about letting the king of curses out into the wild, especially when he already had her in this position.

'Tic-toc punk ass, this offer isn’t going to last forever.'

“Promise you won’t hurt her first.” Her eyes went wide and she began to struggle in his grasp again, body going hot. Screaming through his palm and Sukuna’s tongue as well as she could manage in protest.

There is no way he’s about to offer his body over to Sukuna right now, and all she could think about were all the previous times he’d spoken to her – though, at her might be a better word. Everything he’d said up to this point, his promises to absolutely wreck her- all came flooding back. Could they really not handle this job any other way than to bring Sukuna into the mix?

'You humans are so predictable, really fucking takes the fun out of everything. I’ll get rid of the curse. Just say you aren’t strong enough, you need a real man to do your dirty work for you.'

“That’s not-”

'Going once…'

“I don’t-”

'Going TWICE...'

“Fine! I need your help, please.” She was hysterical at this point, thrashing in his grip as much as she could, grinding her ass into him harder every time she moved.

'That doesn’t sound like what we agreed to, try again.'

Yuji groaned, thankful he could use that as an excuse to let out some of his frustrations.

“Sukuna please, I’m not strong enough and need a real man to do my dirty work for me.” Yuji bit out, and she stilled at his words, stomach knotting. Any minute now, Sukuna would be breathing down her neck. Months of sexual tension, mostly from his side - would it finally come to a head now? Or would he leave it and just get the job done, let Yuji take back over when it was safe–

A low chuckle rumbled from behind her, and the sound ran straight through her body to her core. She swallowed, realizing the tongue down her throat had finally disappeared.

Sukuna ran a hand up her chest before resting it on her throat.

“Well, well, this is certainly a turn of events, isn’t it?” She whimpered, frozen in place. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Sukuna…” She breathed his name warily.

“Surprised to see me? I did tell you I’d have you some day. So, how was I? It’s been a few hundred years. You’ll have to excuse the fact I’m a little rusty.” Sukuna filled the silence, not waiting for an answer.

“You weren’t too bad yourself; I think I even felt you participating at the end. Care for more?” He whispered in her ear, tongue flicking out to lick her lobe. She bit back her moan, clamping her knees together as she gently rocked back into him. He laughed, moving his hands down her body to grip her hips and pull her in closer against him.

“Oh, don’t be shy now, it’s just us. The brat won’t even know, it can be our little secret.”

“I-” She stammered, face hot. So what if she’d gone back to her room at the end of a long day full of Sukuna teasing her, and closed her eyes while chanting his name under the sheets? So what if being the object of the king of curses’ endless teasing was what she used to push her over the edge some nights? That was all by her choice - she was in charge.

Currently having Sukuna’s painfully rock-hard cock prodding her ass while he held her tight against him? She was so clearly not in charge, and to make matters worse? The realization sent her core gushing.

“I can smell you,” he continued, taking in a long breath. And this time she couldn’t bite back her moan.

“Sukuna!” She gasped, feeling the blush run up her ears.

“I think you should really stop being such a cock-tease, woman. No wonder Yuji can’t help but fuck his fist most nights. I bet he can smell you too, he just spares your feelings by not saying anything.” The fog he’d brought with him was starting to clear, and she tried to pry his fingers off of her.

“Stop! You’re lying!” But Sukuna just threw his head back in a cackle.

“I actually don’t care if you believe me, do you want to know why?” He stepped out from behind her so quickly, shoving her back against the wall, it made her head spin. Looking up at his tattooed face and red eyes only solidified how real this situation was for her - and her mouth went dry. He grinned down at her, gripping her chin to hold her in place.

“I’m going to fuck you through this wall. You won’t be able to look at that stupid brat without thinking of me inside you ever again. And he’ll never know because he’s out cold.” Using his free hand, he ripped off her skirt. She cried out, trying to grip his wrist and stop her panties from meeting the same fate.

“Aww, still shy, are we?” He teased as he examined the red lace, running his fingers down to the ever-growing wet spot on them.

“N-No!” Sukuna just chuckled, watching her face morph from flustered to pleasure at his touch.

“And look, you even wore red just for me. How cute of you.” She moaned, closing her eyes. The physical and mental teasing was too much. If he wasn’t going to kill her, she was going to die of embarrassment. He sucked his teeth, hooking his thumb into her mouth and tugging her face.

“Look at me while I touch you, I won’t tell you twice.” He snapped, and her heart thrummed in her chest. It felt so good to finally have him touch her after all this time, she’d forgotten just how dangerous he was in the moment. She nodded sheepishly.

“Good, you listen well for a sorcerer. I don’t believe in praising those beneath me, but I think I’ll make an exception just this once.” He pressed his fingers against her core, watching the way she squirmed under him.

“You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you, was my tongue down your throat just what you needed?” Her head was spinning, his hold on her jaw rough, but all she could picture was wrapping her lips around him.

She slid her tongue around his thumb cautiously, watching his reaction for any sign that she’d miss-stepped.

He groaned, smirking down at her as he leaned closer.

“And here you’d have everyone believing you’re too innocent for such filthy things.” Finding the edge of her panties, he pushed them aside, running his fingers through her slick folds. He watched as she moaned, satisfaction settling on his face as the moan grew louder when he pushed a finger inside of her.

“God you’re so tight, there’s no way that brat could stuff his cock in you.” Her walls flexed at his words. Sukuna’s one finger was already so thick, and now her mind was swimming with the thought of having more.

“But don’t worry, you’ll take it from me.” And then she felt a second finger at her entrance, making her eyes open wider. She tried to speak as best she could around the awkward hold he still had her in, but it didn’t matter.

“Suku-na!” She cried out as he forced another finger into her.

“I’d be thanking me if I were you. I’m feeling generous enough to stretch you out before I ram my cock into your stomach.” He offered, grinning as he watched her try and hold herself together.

He didn’t wait for her to adjust to the feeling, why would he? Fucking her open on him was all he could think about while he sat bored on his throne - not that he was admitting it aloud.

So many days, weeks, months, of him wrapped up in her. He knew exactly what she was doing to him, even if she didn’t.

“Was it worth it to parade around like a whore in heat around us?” He asked as he began to slide his fingers in and out of her.

“You know I offered him the chance to have you first. Humans and their virtues though, so fickle. Of course, the brat couldn’t do this.” He pressed his palm against her cunt, and her back arched off the wall as his tongue shot out to flatten on her clit.

Letting go of her chin he wrapped his hand around her neck, giving it a testing squeeze before trailing down to her chest. Groping over her top, and then easily ripping the buttons away.

“Not my clothes!” She protested, but if he heard, he ignored her. Choosing instead to knead her breast as it spilled over her matching bra. Sukuna chuckled, looking back at her.

“The matching set, I’m starting to think you really did wear this just for me. Is that what you do? Under all those clothes you put on, you wear red hoping I’ll catch a glimpse. Hoping I’ll come out to rip it off of you.” He spoke as he rolled her bud roughly between his fingertips.

“God!” She cried out. He was everywhere. Pumping his fingers further inside her walls, tongue abusing her clit-

“I’ll be your god.” He hissed, before leaning down to suck her nipple into his mouth.

She was fast approaching the edge, gasping for air as he shot her towards her peak.

He curled his fingers inside of her, reaching a new angle that sent white hot pleasure shooting through her body.

“Sukuna!” She choked out, reaching up to ball her hands into his top. She was wary of touching him at first, opting to press against the wall instead. But it was all too much. She needed something more to try and ground herself through the first orgasm he was going to rip from her body.

“You gonna cum, little sorcerer?” He hummed around a mouthful of her breast, looking up at her expectantly. She already looked so cute and fucked out for him; grinding into his hand to push him further inside, face flushed as she whimpered his name over, brows pinched up while she looked down to him with a breathless nod.

“Please Sukuna...” If he wasn’t so pent up himself, he might have stopped what he was doing, but edging her would only edge him, and he had no interest in prolonging his own pleasure any more than being stuck in the passenger seat of his vessel already had.

For this encounter, anyways. So, he gave her what she wanted, driving his fingers faster into her cunt, biting down on the nipple currently still in his mouth, while his other hand roughly pinched at the other.

He could feel how close she was. It was getting harder to slide his fingers back into her, and he couldn’t wait to sink into her.

When he didn’t slow down or stop, she took it as permission, though, the tip of the iceberg was so close that even if he had told her no, she wasn’t sure she could have stopped, anyway.

It crashed over her in waves, throwing her against the wall as she cried out his name. Everything was gone - her sight, her hearing, all she could do was ride against his hand, and hope that their grasp on each other was enough to keep her standing through the intensity of it all.

Even when her high started to ebb away, he was still lazily pumping his fingers inside of her. Slowly the world came back to her, heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she whined.

“Aww, is someone sensitive?” He pulled away from her chest with a grin, red eyes glinting as he stared down at her dazed expression. She weakly pushed against his chest, trying to get him to stop while she regained some semblance of normal breathing.

“Sukuna…”

“Well, aren’t you going to thank me?” She swallowed hard, still trying to find her way out of the haze.

“I- thank you...” He pulled his fingers out of her, chuckling at the whimper that left her lips. Raising his hand to his mouth, he kept his eyes on her as he sucked his fingers clean.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

“What?” Confusion crossed her face, and he pressed the same two fingers against her parted lips, looking on in admiration as she opened them without question. Sukuna pressed his fingers against her tongue, pulling her mouth open as he did.

“Those red panties you’re wearing will be sufficient.”

“What?” The word left her mouth again, and he raised an eyebrow, dragging his fingers down her tongue and out of her mouth. She stared at him for only a second more before leaning down to slide them off her hips. She looked down to keep from fumbling, but he hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face back up to him.

“I didn’t say you could look away.” She bit her lip, shimmying awkwardly to slide them down her knees. Stepping one foot out of them at a time, she began to lift them up. He grabbed them from her, large fingers brushing her own as he did.

She moved to stand up again, but he stopped her, shaking his head.

“On second thought, I don’t think one pair of panties is worth a mind-numbing orgasm, do you?” But it wasn’t really a question, not when he was already guiding her to her knees in front of him. The floor below her was cold - a shock that her core, still radiating heat, could feel.

“Be a good girl and open wide,” he said, reaching into his pants to take hold of his neglected cock. Pulling it out, he ran his thumb over the tip, smearing his precum up and down his length.

Sukuna groaned, gritting his teeth. The brat could imagine all he wanted; it would never compare to having her right here in front of him. Small hands braced on his thighs, eyes blown wide as she took in just how fucked she was about to be.

“See something you like?” Her breath hitched as he knocked his fat tip against her bottom lip. She slowly opened her mouth, tongue sliding out and against the underside of his cock. He groaned again, grabbing the back of her head as he forced himself into her mouth.

She dug her nails into his thighs as he did, trying in vain to pull her head back so she could breathe.

“You’re not acting very grateful. Don’t make me fuck your throat, I’ll end up hurting your feelings.” He chuckled. Tears were already welling in her eyes as she choked on what he could fit in her mouth. Slowly, she removed a hand off from his thigh, reaching down to run her fingers through her folds. When she’d gathered enough of her release, she reached back up to pump the rest of him with it.

“How resourceful of you. Makes me want to fuck my cock down your throat all the more.” She moaned around his length, gently rocking him as far as she could take him. Part of her was screaming for air, the other wanted to make him feel just as good as he’d made her feel moments ago. The fog was back, and she blinked the tears away as she looked up at him.

His jaw was tense, one hand still at the back of her head, the other balled in a fist and braced against the wall. Before this she’d only seen him when he was a mouth and one eye, stirring up chaos on Yuji’s cheek. Looking up at him now, though, red eyes trained on her and black markings all over his body - he was breathtaking.

All-powerful and terrifying as hell, considering that he could kill her in an instant, but breathtaking, nonetheless. She let her other hand slide down his leg to rest between her own, pressing her fingers into herself - only to whine in disappointment when it felt nothing like him.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you? I’ve gone hundreds of years without, and you just can’t wait for another.” She breathed hard through her nose, trying to take in as much air as she could before he hit the back of her throat again. Black dots buzzed at the corners of her vision, the sound of her choking on what she could take echoed through the hall.

Her jaw was pried open at a painful angle to accommodate him, and he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. Her grasp on his cock grew slack, and she wasn’t fighting him every time he knocked his tip just a little further into her mouth. Her own fingers stilled in her aching walls, eyelids fighting to stay open.

Sukuna huffed, sliding his hand around to smack at her cheek.

“Don’t go passing out on me now, I’m not finished with you just yet.” And he pulled out of her mouth with a loud squelch as she gasped for air. The lightheaded feeling slowly dissipated as she looked up at him, tears and spit covering her face.

“You did okay. For now. We’ll revisit that later, get up.” She didn’t have to be told twice, rising on wobbly legs as quickly as she could. The thought occurred to her, that she was practically naked in front of him, while he was still fully clothed. She swallowed hard, trying to wipe away some of the shame along with the tears.

But he didn’t give her much time to wallow in her self-pity, quickly turning her around and pinning her to the cool wall. She shivered at the feeling of his solid body pressed into her back, erection still wet with her spit as it bounced on her bare ass.

“Maybe next time, I’ll let you look at me while I fuck you.” He breathed down her neck, grabbing his length and rubbing it through her folds. She dug her nails into the wall; he barely fit her mouth, there was no way she was ready–

“Relax, I’m not interested in breaking you the first time around. It would ruin the fun in watching you look at me in anticipation every time you’re around.” And he wasn’t wrong. Hell, he was still here, and the anticipation was coursing through her. Taking a slow breath she waited, thankful that the cool wall was enough to ease the heat on her face.

Sukuna gripped her hip and hooked his tip at her entrance before pushing in. She gritted her teeth, moaning at the already over-full feeling. For the situation being what it was, he was fairly gentle as he steadily eased himself through her tight walls with a prolonged hiss. She could only stay pressed against the wall, jaw dropped in a silent moan as he filled her out inch by agonizing inch. Her eyes rolled, body unsure if she should cry out in pleasure or pain.

“God look at you, practically foaming at the mouth. What would your sorcerers say if they caught you like this, hmm?” He groaned, bucking his hips up into hers. Her voice finally caught up to her, and she cried out, nails scraping down the wall as she clawed for anything to keep her grounded.

He didn’t quite fit all the way, but it only turned Sukuna on even more. Of course, he couldn’t fit - but he would. He would break her open on his cock as many times as he needed, until she fit him like a second skin. Until he was the only thing she could think about whenever she tried to seek pleasure elsewhere.

She was playing a game she had no clue about, and Sukuna was going to win. He laughed as he grabbed her hips, pulling out to slam back into her walls. They sucked him in and tried to keep him out all at the same time.

“Sukuna, fuck!” She moaned, reaching behind her to slow him down. He said he wasn’t going to break her, but the rough pace he’d set was literally fucking the air right out of her lungs. Her walls squeezed him tighter, and he moaned.

“Too much for you already, princess? I’m just getting started.” Sukuna grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

“Too much, fuck, ‘s too much!”

“I’m not that brat, you’ll take what I give you exactly how I give it to you. Don’t piss me off, I’m in such a giving mood, right now!” He snaked his other hand around her, tongue darting out to swirl around her clit. Sukuna grinned. In an attempt to get away, she only managed to shove herself further onto his cock.

“Sukuna please, I don’t…Please!”

“Short circuiting, and I’m not even close yet. Shall we see just how many times I can make you cry before I’m finally satisfied?” Her mind was melting, she didn’t care anymore. What was she even begging for? Him to stop? Or maybe she was begging him not to stop. She’d never been filled up like this before; even the pain was pleasurable now. All she could do was stand against this wall and take it, anyway. Her body relaxed against him slightly, and he grinned.

“Is there something you want from me, little sorcerer?” She bit her wobbly lip hard, trying to focus on his words.

“I want- I wanna cum.”

“That so?” She nodded with a whimper.

“Beg, and I’ll think about it.” She couldn’t even be bothered with the feelings of shame looming overhead. She wanted one thing, and if begging was all she needed to do to achieve it, well…

“Please I wanna cum.” She whined, hands flexing in his grasp.

“Beg more, you can do better than that.”

“Please Sukuna please I wanna cum, never wanted to cum so bad. Please make me cum on your cock please I-” She was a wailing mess, she didn’t care who heard her pleas, only that he might answer them. His tongue licked at her folds, snaking around his length to tease her from every side.

He rocked her into her second orgasm, reveling in the feeling of her tightening around him as she screamed.

God, he needed to feel it again. The way her walls fluttered around his thickness, trying to close around the strain of taking him. The feeling was maddening, and Sukuna was sure he could pull another one from her immediately, he just needed to pick up the pace as he rammed his cock harder into her.

The wet sound of his second mouth lapping at her, mixed with her moaning variations of his name and ‘fuck don’t stop’ was more than enough to catch the attention of anyone close by, and as absorbed as Sukuna was in this little game, he wouldn’t let his guard down. He was sure she didn’t even remember what they were here for anymore at this point. If the whites of her rolled eyes and the drool currently sliding down the wall where her face was pressed against it were any indication, anyway.

He could feel her whole body start to twitch and tighten, and he knew she was close again. Two orgasms in, and he knew her body so well already. He’d put that knowledge to good use later.

“Go ahead little sorcerer, scream for me.” And she came hard, walls clamping down on him, practically shoving him out while she did. It was enough to send him reeling, too. Hips slamming up into her, he sank his teeth into her shoulder as he finished with a growl. If they weren’t both so wrapped up in each other, they might have realized he growled ‘mine.’ He painted her insides in white hot ropes, stilling when the euphoria finished washing over him.

“If you think that was mind-numbing, just wait until I get ahold of you in my true form.” Sukuna whispered against the shell of her ear.

He pulled out with a groan, watching her whole body quiver as he did.

“Clean yourself up.” She finally looked back at him, brows knit. He ripped the sleeve off his jacket, handing it over to her. When she tried to pull it, his grip tightened, and he looked at her expectantly.

“Thank you…” She said quietly as she cleared her throat.

“Such a good girl for me already, I don’t even have to train you. I’ll be back, be ready to leave when I am.”

“Wait where-”

“There’s still a job to do here, isn’t there? I’ve got a curse to kill.” He smirked as he walked backwards up the hall.

Yuji wouldn’t be awake for a while, plenty of time for Sukuna to hide his prize. One of the many he planned on taking from her, he thought as he twirled the red panties on his finger.

if you enjoyed this check out my masterlist !

Tags: @saiki-enthusiast @alice-smutthoughts @idktbhloley @rezitio @matchat3a @mo0nforme @bleach-your-panties @fateisnotafactor @lov3ly-bunny @antishadow2021 @xo-evangeline @aramea205 @ackachii @tiredravenette @carpioassists @yoongislatinagff @unoriginalidea @i-likebread @squishybabei @emyyy007 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @kokushibosgirl @wishandluck @kimchi-zaks @kyriekurokami @not-brionnne @andic137 @tang3r1n @mammon-s

#jjk #sukuna jjk #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #cannot believe I finished it finally FINALLY #sukuna smut #sukuna ryoumen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #lil bit of yuji x reader

[sweetiecutie]

Part three: daddy kink~ 🩷Kinktober Masterlist🩷

Pairing: Keegan P Russ x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni choking, spitting, daddy kink, size kink, omg this is nasty I like it

The sound of headboard hitting repeatedly against the wall filled clammy space of the room, your wanton moans along with Keegan’s heavy breathing bounced off tall walls around, going back straight into your ears.

Keegan’s mighty body was covering all of your smaller frame, his stomach was pressed against yours half-laying on top of you, allowing you to feel his abs flexing and relaxing with every deep breath he took. One tattooed hand was wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides slightly, making it harder for blood to flow through your carotid artery. This made you lightheaded - your head buzzed with some undecipherable feeling, white hog of pleasure covering your eyes along with Keegan’s lengthy cock ramming in and out of your drooling cunt, causing your senses to sharpen and your toes curl in pure bliss.

Bright euphoria sparkled up and down your spine as grip of Keegan’s hand around your throat loosened - such needed oxygen rushed to your brain; your swollen lips parted in a silent moan, unseeing eyes half-covered by heavy lids, letting pleasure consume you whole. It all just felt too good - Keegan’s hips were angled perfectly against yours, his leaking tip was nudging that one spot deep within you, his thumb never stopping its abuse on your poor clit.

Hand around your neck came up to cup your chin - a thumb on one cheek and four fingers on the other squeezed your face slightly, preventing you from closing your mouth. Your vision came in focus just as you saw a thick white glob of spit falling from Keegan’s lips, next moment you felt its warmth on your tongue. His fingers covered your lips then, Russ leaned closer towards you, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured:

- Swallow, - his raspy voice made your pussy clench, eliciting a small grunt and then a laugh out of Keegan’s throat. You swallowed, opening your mouth afterwards to prove that you didn’t loose a single drop. - Thants my good girl, so eager to please daddy, just my perfect slut, yeah? Tell me.

- ‘m daddy’s slut, - you mumbled up incoherently, mind hogged with feeling your fourth orgasm bubbling up within your stomach.

- Louder. Scream it so our neighbours hear, - Keegan said, smirking at your fucked out expression. You both knew that your neighbours’ living room was right next to your bedroom - a nice middle aged couple, a balding man’s eyes always lingering on you for too long - there was no way they wouldn’t hear. - Come on, don’t make me wait.

- I’m daddy’s slut, fuck I’m daddy’s desperate slut! - you cried out, feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly. Your back arched off the bed, up into Keegan’s strong body. The corners of his cold blue eyes crinkled at your words, wide grin plastered across that handsome motherfucking face, enjoying how fucked-out you already were.

- That’s it, doll. Cum on that dick, make daddy happy, - his pace never once faltered, fucking you into and through your mind-blowing high, holding your shaking body tightly, keeping you right underneath him - just where you belonged. He only stopped when you began to writhe and whine under his touch, his calloused thumb rubbing against your swollen clit being too much to take.

Keegan straightened up, sitting on his haunches with his dick still buried deep inside your cunt, piercing eyes gazing down onto your pliant body, occasional post-coital shudders still tumbling though you. Warm hand splayed across your heaving tummy, covering almost all of it - with how fucking bigger he was than you - gliding up to your ribcage and sternum, turning left and gripping a handful of soft tit. You were laying still, trying to catch your breath, your eyes peeled open to look up at Keegan - his skin shone with thin layer of sweat, short strands of black hair stuck to his forehead, a few bright marks you left bloomed on that pale neck of his.

He smirked upon meeting your eyes; a sudden thrust of his hips made you yelp in both surprise and pleasure, drilling his dick even deeper into you.

- Come on, princess. Daddy’s not done with you yet. Still gotta let that dickhead of a neighbour know just who you belong to, right?

#kinktober #keegan p russ #keegan russ #cod keegan #keegan russ smut #keegan smut #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #call of duty keegan #cod mwii #cod mw #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #cod smut #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty writing #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty modern warfare

[queenie-the-court-jester]

that isn't very holy of you :/

Yandere church boy x gn!reader

It came out shittier than I hoped for. Not proofread 🌺 I'll fix this when I have the time

Tw: religious themes, noncon mention, minor cult mention

✝️ you had just arrived in the small town of morning star. Having been needing a break from the city life, you rented a one bedroom cabin close by. Planning on staying here for a month, you quickly headed towards your new home, very eager to start exploring the area

✝️ wandering around the town square, it seemed everyone knew eachother. A family like community perhaps? Maybe that's why they all kept staring at you as passed through, must not be use to new faces

✝️that was until a group of children approached, asking you to come play ball with them. You couldn't say no to their puppy dog eyes, and the adult's judgemental stares so you agreed. And it was fun surprisingly! You noticed none of the children had any phones.. or the grown up's for that matter

✝️your first week there you were unsettled, but you just pushed it off as the townsfolks strange behavior, Focusing on unpacking and enjoying your stsy. Until one of the school teachers, a kindergarten one, knocked on your door on a sunday

"hi there honey! On behalf of the people I'd like to sincerely apologize for the cold welcome. It's just been a hard year for all of us! So to make it up you, won't you come to church with us on this fine morning?"

✝️ whether or not you're religious yourself, she managed to convince you to come along. Chatting the whole walk there. Talking about her husband, her children. She mentioned something about having a son your age but you weren't really paying attention

✝️ walking through the grand double doors of the church house, she sat you on the front row with the pastors family, next to a young man. You were startled as she sat on the other side of you, leaning in to whisper In Your ear as she pointed at the pastor preaching

"that's my hubby right there. He's a handsome fella ain't he?"

✝️david looked at his mother in disbelief, he told her a few a times he found you attractive and now look at her! He could practically see the gears turning in her head. thankfully you seemed preoccupied thinking, so he did his best to seem normal while his poor heart beated 300 mph

✝️after the sermon, david turned to you and have you a sheepish smile

"hi.. my name's David, but you can call me dave.. its.. nice to meet you"

✝️you and David hit it off, unlike all the other people. He didn't constantly talk about praising god and forcing his religion down your throat. He was kind, understanding. Laughing at your jokes and nodding along to your words. He never met someone so.. ethereal

✝️growing up, he had a hard time believing in his small towns "god". Watching them cut up and sacrifice newcomers to their false idols, he felt sick to the pit of his stomach heading their screams. But he could definitely devote his cause to you...

✝️he trapped you in this shitty town when he asked you out on a little date a few days later. Unaware he drugged your food and dragging you into his home, waking up chained to a bed. You couldn't tell how long you've been there, but every time you'd try to escape he'd punish you in bed. Not letting you cum or overstimulating you to the point of tears. Why would you want to leave something that can make you feel so good?

✝️he grew up desensitized to blood and gore, so he's confused when you're screaming and crying. Why are you doing that? Don't you know that this is what happens to bad spouses? What do you mean you're not married either? ofcourse you are. Stop being so difficult...

✝️nobody blinks an eye when he strides into town with you on a collar and leash. And that's when you realized, you should have left earlier. Because the whole town was sick in the head. It wasn't like you could call for help because he fucking destroyed your electronics and the people don't even have phones. Something about wifi signals can brainwash you

✝️ he's whipped for you, that much you can obviously tell. but he's smarter than he looks. Eating dinner with his family is just painful,since all they talk about is God god god. It hurts your ears with how often they just Randomly start singing praises. It's bad enough they force you to watch their cult church activities...

✝️if you give in to his demands, he'll let you off the leash but you have to stay close by at all times. If you don't, he'll have to make his punishments a little more extreme. There's also a possibility he'll force you to help around the town. whether that be looking after the children or just running around doing errands. The shock bracelet on your ankle stops you from running into the woods..

✝️if you don't, well.. you wouldn't mind if you became permanently handicapped right?

"don't be so difficult sweetie.. just stay still and it'll cut right through okay?'

#queenie ocs #yandere x darling #queenie writes #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #ocs #male yandere #Yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oc x you #Yandere boyfriend #Yandere church boy x reader #David the church boy #yandere blog #tw yandere #yandere boy #yandere community #yandere thoughts

[the-californicationist]

Please! I need the part 2 of “Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen.“ I'm on my kneesss pleaseee it was so good! 😭♥️

Anyways, I'm your new follower 😍, and some of the stories you write is just so damn good😍 (Sorry for bad grammar's, English isn't really my first language, uwu)

im sorry but idk what a part two even looks like. i know a lot of people have asked for it but its... just some couch sex?? idk i'll try.

Laswell clicked the door shut behind her, and part of you wished she had locked it. Gaz was sure to tell the rest of the team, but you could do without an audience. What would they even see if they barged in here?

The captain had let his cock loose from the confines of his pants, and they were sliding down his thick, muscular ass with every selfish thrust. He was rubbing himself like a naughty dog against your clothed pussy, begging for entrance with every forward movement. Your shirt was pulled down, revealing your breasts, and now they were covered in pink marks from the roughness of his beard as he moved his mouth across you.

Feeling him take each nipple and suck it so gently into his mouth, pulling it in like delicious nectar through a straw, drinking you although you were dry, tasting you even though you had no flavor. It was too much, but he couldn't stop.

You felt a little wrong to be enjoying your commanding officer so much. His humping was making your body respond even as it waited for your guilty conscience to catch up.

"Cap... oh, my fucking God... No, Captain. We shouldn't..." you tried to protest on his behalf, knowing he was being controlled by the powder.

"Corporal," he spoke with his mouth full of your flesh, "I can stop... now. It'll give you... enough time... to run..."

His bright pink eyes flashed up at you in warning and he used both his arms to pin you on either side of your head, forcing you to look at him, the intensity of which went right to your rapidly-melting core.

Suddenly, in a moment of lucidity, he looked you right in your eyes and finished his sentence,

"But that will not be bloody true for long."

As if warning you, he rubbed his hardness up and over your belly, letting it ruck up your shirt, and you felt its incredible heat. It was like a long, steel brand. His skin was smooth, but it was scalding and swollen with his blood. The huge tip left a wet trail of desire wherever it went.

"It's okay, Captain. You can have me if you --"

There mere suggestion of your consent was all he needed to let the dam burst and the river run free. His need crashed from him with an explosive force. He all but ripped your clothes from you, nearly hurting you in the process, making your ankles ache from the sudden pressure as he shucked your pants and boots away in one go.

Your panties were torn from you, sturdy though they were. The fabric made a whining, popping noise as the elastic split. Air rushed across uncovered skin, and your body doubled down on its plans to produce as much natural lubrication as possible. It seemed to know you'd need it.

He didn't touch you. Not with his hands. There was no preparation of any kind. Price fed himself into you like a hand into a glove, a body part in need of sudden and immediate warmth. He took control of your head again, pinning you in that same furious way, and you had a singular view of his face, twisted in a sort of sublime agony as he sank himself into you for the first time.

The pressure was almost unimaginable. Your body was making a lurid, wet, slicking noise as his cock forced you in half. You tried to allow him in, tried to relax, but there was little you could do. He was immense and heavy. It felt like a fist on a strong arm, like a forge hammer, hot and searing. The only thing more tormenting was his voice purring darkly in your ear.

"Fuck, you're warm..."

He pulled himself out of you inch by inch, leaving a terrible hollow where you were once whole.

"Wet for me. So wet. How?"

Back in. And in. And in. It seemed to go forever in and it made you wonder how deep you were.

"It feels so good to have you 'round me, love..."

When the rosy head of him found the end of your wet hole, it sort of... settled there. Locked in, like a key into a tumbler, and each fold of you a lifted pin, fitting him as if you were crafted for it.

"Thought 'bout how you'd feel. Sometimes... dreamt it."

You felt your body give away your surprise. He was too gone to notice it, but not you. You would have been able to feel the planets shift an inch to the left if they dared. You could feel everything. Each and every pore and hair and breath was awake and alive and living in the rawest possible way. Could he have really been thinking of you like you were thinking of him?

"Bloody fuckin' hell. So tight. Too tight."

He was right. It was too tight. He was squeezing himself in with each of these aching, crazed thrusts, shoving himself inside of you hungrily, all the way up to your pounding heart, it seemed. You felt yourself slipping around him like hot oil, running down his shaft and matting the coarse, dark hair that cradled his root.

"John..."

You used his name in place of his title, and he noticed. Noticed it like a hawk notices a hare. Right in your ear, up against your cheek, he responded, too quickly, too much teeth,

"Yes, love. Yes. Yes? Tell me."

He was grunting now, clearly on the edge of his pleasure. You aimed to take him over it, to plunge him into blinding darkness. You whispered, and each word hit its mark like the straight shaft of an arrow, striking into the target one after the other, tearing through the bullseyes like they were nothing but air.

"You're gonna make me come, John."

Again, that unearthly snarl came from his chest, the one you'd never heard before come from the mouth of a man. It was a cry and a scream and a prayer and a plea and had he not been pinning you down prone with his own prostrated body, he would have been growling it from his knees. He commanded you as he worshiped you,

"Give it to me. Give it to me. Give. It. To. Me."

Your body listened before you could even register his words.

From the bones in your hips, you felt your muscles tighten along his iron rod like a fist, closing in on him knuckle by knuckle, and each closure brought you closer to that brink where the darkness turned to blinding white light. You could feel the sparkle of it, that peppery gunpowder flash and then...

"Holy fuck, love..." He stared at you as if you were the sun lighting up his whole life. Like he'd seen you before, all sherbet pink and blazing orange, in the dawn, in the mornings, cutting over the horizon.

Price had come in you. You felt it. It slid along the cleft of your ass and soaked into the fabric of the couch. He didn't mind it. You couldn't. His body was still thrusting as hard and as heavy as before, fucking up into you as if he hadn't just filled you with his thick, hot cream.

"I can't... " he gasped, wrenching his eyes shut, "I can't stop..."

"It's okay, John..."

"I can't bloody stop, love. I'm... fuck, I'm sorry..."

"I'm okay. It's okay," you whispered to him, trying to soothe him.

You pet the hair back over his brow and he leaned into your touch like a cat, purring for more of it. You laced your fingers through his hair and held him tight at his scalp, turning his head so that you could talk to him right into his ear,

"Fuck me how you need to, Captain."

Did you enjoy this tale or maybe some other work by me? Consider buying me a coffee, if you have the means. Kudos, likes, reblogs, and feral comments also work as well ^_^ Thanks!

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain johnathan price #cod price #price mw2 #price #price x reader #call of duty #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price smut #john price cod #price cod #sex pollen #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

[dollfacefantasy]

Rookiepillz: Here We Go Again

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: almost a year after the rookiepillz incident, you and your now-boyfriend play some video games together. he's got a special strategy to help you win.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief cockwarming, daddy kink, rookiepillz

word count: 1.8k

a/n: finally. rookiepillz has come back to tumblr. the most anticipated come back of the century in my book. i just needed something silly as a break from school. we'll be back to regularly scheduled programming momentarily. part 1 is here.

“ANOTHER GOJO!” you yell at your tv, flinging your controller to the other side of your couch. You feign a growl and look up at your boyfriend who’s lap you were laid up on. “Another fucking Gojo killed me. Can you believe this? It’s like a curse or something.”

He chuckles right next to your ear and kisses your temple. “You’ll get the win soon. You placed third that time, that’s not bad,” he tells you as you ready up again.

He was one to talk considering he planned and acted out a whole revenge scheme on you when he placed second. But hey, look at the two of you now. Snuggling on the couch, you wearing one of his shirts, playing video games in his lap while he gives you little smooches and whispers sweet nothings to you.

Sure, he used to be your stepdad, but he’s your man now. Sure, he dated your mom just to get back at you for beating him in a Fortnite match, but he also gave you the best dick of your life. And plus, he was pretty sweet when he wasn’t being a total asshole, so who are you to complain?

His arms squeeze around your waist, and he nuzzles the back of your neck, inhaling your scent as you beat on some innocent player in the lobby for having the default skin. He smiled as he watched your eyes light up with glee. He took in every word you said about how dropping at the pool house was the best strategy. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Yeah, he had fucked your mom as part of a long revenge plot over losing a victory royale. Yeah, he did humiliate you by spanking you and then revealing said revenge plot in the middle of fucking. But it’s only cause he knew you’d be his girl in the end. He was just having some fun with his sweetheart, right?

He half-watches you running around the map, giggling when you drive a car off a cliff or start doing the weeknd emote. A smile breaks across his face whenever you kill someone because you lightly tap his forearm and go “Look! Did you see that? I gottem.” And then he’d whisper to you, “mhm, that’s my girl” before planting another kiss on your cheekbone.

But what really got him going wasn’t the precious moments of joy or the sweet expressions of tension when you started losing health. No. What really fired him up was your rage. What could he say? It reminded him of nearly a year ago when he’d pulled you over his knee, the fire that had burned in your eyes. A day he’d never forget. 

All he had to do was be patient for your match to start winding down. Once that notification came up that said there were only 25 people left, that red monster inside you would start rearing its head. The “motherfucker’s” and “god damn it’s” would start flying, and in no time at all, you’d be wearing that adorable pouty expression.

Like right now. He watched your character explode into a pile of loot. You slammed the controller down on your laps and crossed your arms, sinking back into his embrace. “That’s such bullshit. At least it wasn’t Gojo again,” you grumble.

Fuck, it got him hard.

“I think I know your problem, baby,” he says. 

You look at him with a raised eyebrow. The one piece of certain leverage you had over your boyfriend was that you were a better Fortnite player. Whenever he gave you unsolicited advice on your playing, you made sure to bring up the fact that you had beaten him before.

“You’re getting so frustrated, y’know. I think you gotta calm down a bit. Let yourself relax so you can think and focus better. And I think I have a way you can do that,” he says.

“And what would that be?” you ask, tone growing softer as you start to catch on.

“How about you relax on daddy’s cock? I know you can only think straight once you’ve been filled up,” he purrs. His hands smooth up your stomach to your tits, coasting over your nipples that were already starting to harden out of instinct. Because if there was one guaranteed piece of leverage he had on you, it was that special word that you’d seemed so averse to just a few months ago.

“I think that’s a good idea,” you answer. It felt shameful that he could get a rush of arousal from you with just a simple word said in a particular tone.

You stand up, still working the controller as another match starts up. He tugs down your shorts for you, grinning like the madman he was at your lack of panties.

“Look at you all prepared,” he coos and kisses your hip, “You knew you’d be getting a treat from daddy today, hm?”

“Lucky guess,” you respond as he guides you back down. Your knees rest on either side of his thighs. He lines himself with your entrance and pulls you down until he’s bottomed out. You whimper and bite your lip, locking your eyes on the tv to focus.

For the beginning, he really does just let you sit there, nice and full. And maybe he was sort of right. You feel pretty calm so far. Everything is less stressful when, in the back of your mind, you’re noticing the way he twitches within you or the small grunts he lets out when you tighten around him.

You were so warm and tight. Felt just as good as the first time, and fortunately for you, there was no bombshell plot twist waiting around the corner. His fingers rub little circles on the outside of your thigh.

“What do you think? Is it helping, babydoll?” he asks.

“Mhm, thank you, daddy. Fits just right,” you say.

He chuckles at the cute way you say it. You work on sniping some people, he tests out rolling his hips. You sharply inhale but don’t protest. So he does it again. His cock slides through the warm embrace of your walls, kissing your favorite spots deep inside. You still seemed focused enough, so using his hands to hold you in position, he begins thrusting upwards.

Your breaths become longer and shakier, but you will yourself to maintain focus. The number of players was dwindling fast. He was bouncing you on his cock which normally left you empty-headed in seconds. But you needed this victory royale. You really were his girl.

He lets out a groan, leaning back against the couch cushions with his head tilted back. It wasn’t like he needed the win this time. He could let go. And so he did. He pistons his cock up into you faster by the moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck. Daddy there’s only two other people,” you whine in a plea for mercy.

“Almost there, baby,” he grunts. You honestly didn’t know if he was referring to your game or how close he was to cumming.

You don’t have time to think about that though because the circle is closing. You grit your teeth and grip the controller with all the focus you have left.

“Daddy, c’mon, I could win,” you whimper.

“I know, princess. You got this, pretty girl,” he mumbles while his eyes flutter. His abdomen twitches as he feels himself gearing up for release. “Tell you what. If you win this one, daddy’ll make sure you get a special reward later on.”

Now it is absolutely on. You can’t lose this. That’d be even more humiliating than the original rookiepillz incident. You’re dashing around the map as your boyfriend pumps in and out of you. It’s a difficult task, managing to hold off your release and try to win.

But soon enough you spot your targets. At the same time, it seems that Leon is reaching his. “Oh fuck, baby. So fuckin’ good. Daddy’s gonna fill you up just how you like,” he whimpers from behind you.

He bounces you, and you know your own peak is imminent. But you see the other players, and in an absolute miracle, you down one and then the other. The tv flashes gold with your victory as your body seizes with the white hot pleasure of release. Simultaneously, he unloads inside you, firing rope after rope into your tight cunt.

He fucks into you a few more times before actually coming back down to reality. You’re coming down too, melting back against his chest. He’s stroking your face when his eyes catch on the tv.

“Holy shit, you actually won?” he asks. His tone gives away that he’s actually impressed. and that’s your ultimate victory royale.

“Mhm, all for you,” you tease and lazily kiss his cheek.

“God, baby. Making me feel like the luckiest man alive right now,” he replies and reciprocates your small gesture of affection.

The two of you cuddle for a bit longer. You’re finished with the game, having finally gotten the win you wanted. And like always, he was such a sweetheart after, giving you kisses and praise, holding you close, even cleaning you up once he got up. Unfortunately, he had to go into work today, so it wasn’t long until he had to leave. He makes sure you’re content before he says goodbye with a kiss to your forehead.

Later that night though, you were alone at your place just as Leon was at his. You get a text. His contact lights up your lockscreen with the message “Get on Fortnite?”

You smile, hopping on your couch and turning on your console. You text back a “yeah hehe :)” He facetimes you, and you beam when you see his face, something you would have never thought possible when you met him. While you wait for everything to turn on and connect, you ask him about his day and how he’s feeling. He answers softly, heart melting at your interest.

To your surprise, when the game finally loads up, you have a gift. From rookiepillz himself.

“Leon…” you say excitedly.

“What?” he asks, playing dumb at first, “Just open it.”

So you do. You burst into laughter as Gojo appears on your screen next. “You’re so funny. I love you,” you giggle. It slips out so casually, he’s not even sure you registered what you’d let slip. He lets it go for now. He would tease you about it later. Right now, he was just so enamored with you.

As you prattled on about wanting to be the skin with the blindfold on and how he should get one for himself so you could match, he realized something. He’d lose every Fortnite match for the rest of his life if it meant he got you. His own personal victory royale.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #smut

[userlando]

Ok but why can’t I stop thinking about Lando on holiday + pulling my bikini bottoms down with his teeth

i'm sorry in advance 🥲

sun in your eyes (1k words) lando norris/fem!reader on vacation 18+

It’s hot, way over thirty degrees and sweat is beading on the back of your neck. But there’s a certain calmness to the waves lapping against the hull of the yacht as it bobs over water. It’s not a big one, but it’s big enough to have a free and private space away from the Norris family, where they’re occupying the stern.

You can hear their talking and laughing over the music playing, and the sound of your boyfriend’s sister giggling makes you smile right before a hand appears in your field of view, holding a sweating water bottle. The plastic is icy to the touch, and you revel in the coldness of it as you cradle it in your hand, glancing up just in time to watch Lando walk around you and make himself comfortable by your side; Further down by your legs.

“I fully expected you to be asleep when I got here.” He said around a smile and you hummed.

Who could blame you? A full day out on the yacht with the sun beating down on you and overexerting your body with water activities would exhaust anyone, and you were far too comfortable where you laid on your towel.

“Leave me alone for another two minutes and I’ll be a goner.” You said and Lando laughed, reaching a hand over to pinch your hip.

You yelped, making a poor effort at scooting away from him but it was hard when your whole right leg was pinned beneath his body.

Lando’s chin found a home on your upper thigh as he rested his head, close to your bikini line and you blinked down at him. He looked like the epitome of content, a slight relaxed smile playing on his lips and cheeks sunkissed. You couldn’t help but admire his freckles that the sun had brought out, holding your breath when he glanced up at you over his sunglasses. The blues of his eyes were striking, so gorgeous in the sunlight; Surrounded by equally as beautiful eyelashes that you’d always admired and envied.

His hand that had been resting on your left leg started moving, the palm of his hand feeling like fire against your skin the higher it travelled up and you fought off the urge to squirm.

“Babe.” You warned him quietly, glancing behind you in case someone was sneaking up on you but you found no one there.

Lando grinned, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh as his hands halted its movements. You stared hard at his face, the teasing tilt of his lips and dimple that only deepened the wider he smiled.

Your eyes flitted between his, vaguely seeing them behind the sunglasses and they weren’t looking anywhere near your face anymore. They’d found home on your midriff, and it made you suppress an eye roll.

“I’ve been good long enough, haven’t I?” He asked, voice quiet and a little raspy. Like his throat had gone dry.

It made your stomach squirm.

“Yeah,” you raised an eyebrow. “What’s a few more hours? When we’re, you know, alone?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and you reached a hand up to snatch his sunglasses off his face before perching it on your nose. Lando bit back a smile at that, bending his head down to press a small kiss to your hipbone.

“I’m telling you, babe…” His hand on your thigh smoothed up the remaining space of it, poking at your bikini bottoms with a finger. “I don’t know how much patience I’ve got left in me. You look amazing in this.”

You flushed warmth all over, inhaling and holding your breath when he pressed another kiss, closer to your bellybutton this time. He glanced up at you through his eyelashes, and you knew you’d lost the fight the moment you made eye contact.

“Such a pretty girl.” He whispered, breath warm against your stomach.

“Lan— Oh.” His name was punched out in a gasp when you felt his tongue lick a wide stripe under your bellybutton. “Not here.”

It was said in a stutter and you didn’t even sound convincing to your own ears. It made Lando secretly smile, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you.

“No?” His voice went up an octave, teasing and sly.

It made you want to cry with the sudden want you felt for the man.

“Hmmm.” It wasn’t a yes or no, so ambiguous that your boyfriend had to hold back a laugh.

He listened to the hitches in your breath when his teeth grazed your skin, grabbing a hold of your bikini bottom to pull at. It was the most conflicted you’d ever felt, knowing that you were so out in the open, with his entire family just meters away from you. But you couldn’t ignore the flaring need in your body, nor the deep shudder when his teeth let go of the material; snapping it back into place.

“You’re so cute.” The admiration was evident in his voice as he nuzzled your skin, the compliment so innocent but sounding so dirty when it came out of his mouth. “So mine.”

That pulled a whimper out of you, opening your mouth to answer him when his tongue lolled out, licking a wet stripe right over your bikini clad pussy.

“Fuck.” You whimpered, hips jumping up of their own accord to chase the warmth of his tongue.

“You’re so bad, babe.” He smiled up at you, so dirty and teasing that you had half a mind to grab onto his curls and pull him up. “Acting as if you don’t want this, when I can taste you through this.”

He grabbed the material of your bottoms with his fingers and pulled, letting it snap back into place with a small thwack. It made you whine.

“But you always want this, no?” He continued, voice still low. “Doesn’t matter if we’re at home or out here.”

You nodded, anything to hurry him up because it was only a matter of time before someone would show up and you weren’t about to get caught with his head between your legs.

“Lando, hurry.” You gave him a pout when he laughed. “Please.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He slipped two fingers onto the side of the material, pulling it to expose your center. “I’ll take care of you.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

yeah I know, I’m going to hell. see y’all there 😌🫶🏼

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris blurb #f1 blurb #f1 smut #lando brainrot

[zepskies]

As You Wish

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When Dean agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

AN: Here’s a little something in honor of Dean’s birthday! If you haven’t seen The Princess Bride, do yourself a favor. 🥰

Word Count: 600

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, and nothing but the fluff. (Established relationship.)

“My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!” Dean says, right in time with the iconic swashbuckler on the screen, complete with his best approximation at a Spanish accent.

You giggle against his side, hard enough to rock both of you on the bed. When he agreed to watch your favorite movie with you, you didn’t think it’d come with live subtitles.

“Are you gonna quote the whole damn movie?” you ask.

Dean brandishes an imaginary sword with his fist held out.

“HELLO! My name is—”

Biting your lip, you cut him off short by playing dirty. You wrap your arm around his middle and dance your fingers across his ribs. He’d never admit it, but he’s got sensitive sides.

He flinches and laughs on reflex. “Hey, hey! That’s a foul move!”

His arm tightens around your waist while his other hand closes around your wrist. You try to grapple with him, your bare legs tangling with his pajama-clad ones, but you both know it’s a losing battle.

Dean gathers you tighter against his chest and traps your wandering hand.

Huffing another laugh, you relax again. His heart clips at a faster pace under your ear. Your hand smooths up his chest and finds its way up the back of his neck.

Dean can't help it. He lets out a contented hum when your nails give his scalp a little scratch.

For a moment, his attention drifts away from the movie and down to you. He spies the soft edge of your smile, feels your hair starting to itch against his arm, your soft curves under his hand, pressing against him.

You two don’t get these quiet days often, but he wants to make sure you get some rest. You, Sam, and Dean spent about three straight weeks in a row with back-to-back hunts, and the last one had really taken it out of you. So now, Dean’s satisfied to see you so relaxed. Happy, even.

Yeah. You really do seem to be as happy as he (secretly) feels.

Sometimes, he finds that part hard to believe. If you could want this with someone like him, then maybe…maybe he doesn’t screw up all the time.

Dean tunes back into the movie just in time for Buttercup to jump out of the window in her pretty white dress. She and Westley join Fezzik and Inigo on white horses, and the couple shares the kiss that left all the others behind.

Dean glances down at your face. He’s amused by the way you’re eating up all this sappy rom-com crap. Your eyes are shining with unshed tears. He ducks down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“You just spring a leak over anything, don’t you?” he teases. You shove at his chest with a halfhearted hand.

“Only over the good stuff,” you retort.

He accepts that with a chuckle. When the credits start to roll down the screen, he reaches for the remote and searches for the episode you guys left off in Game of Thrones. You tap his chest.

“Hey, wanna go out to dinner tonight?” you ask. A warm smile plays on your lips. “Just you and me?”

Dean blinks. He doesn’t remember the last time you two went on an honest-to-God date. No time, no privacy, always something evil on your asses…

A decision made in his mind, Dean gives you a smile back. He brushes his thumb across your cheek.

“As you wish,” he says.

AN: 😘 Hope you liked this one!

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

#As You Wish #Happy Birthday Dean Winchester! #dean winchester #the princess bride #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female reader #supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #zepskies writes

[polakina]

how they react to you getting hurt on a mission

call of duty headcanons #3

hc masterlist // masterlist

anyone else feel like there's not enough alex keller fics about? if you've got recommendations, send them my way pls <3

rating: explicit

-

heard it over comms while the 141 were raiding an enemy safehouse

you had confirmed intel that they were hiding out after an attack on the local town, so moved in to take them out

you were making your way through the upper sections of the building, whispering into comms as you cleared each room

but as you moved further down the corridor, one of the terrorists barged out of the last door on the left, firing all bullets in your direction

you managed to dodge out of the way for most of them, sending bullets through his skin and taking him down, but not before a bullet lodged itself in your shoulder

price was practically shouting in your ear as he heard the gunshots from above and through his earpiece

he made it to you first, checking over you with worried glances, pulling the collar of your shirt aside to assess the damage

cursed out of sheer panic, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up, calling in for evac and medics

did not leave your side the whole flight back to base, constantly asking if you were okay

reaching the medic tent at base, he kept a stern eye on the medics, barking orders to be careful with you

but he was scared

scared he could have lost you

his fear always turned to anger, it was an emotional side of him you'd noticed since working together

he stayed with you the whole time

angry

so fucking angry

not at you, of course

but at literally everyone else

saw you get knocked up against the wall, pinned by your throat with a knife pointing into your stomach, hearing your cry of pain

he saw red

momentarily blacked out as he shot the guy hurting you at least 6 times

a little overkill but deemed it necessary

was immediately by your side. knocked your hand out of the way when you tried to cover it, and shushed you fiercely when you tried to tell him you were okay

did not leave any room for negotiation before picking you up bridal style and hauling ass out of there

didn't trust any medic to patch you up

did everything himself

turned super super quiet as he saw the wound fully, the blood pooling out of the gash. his face turned almost white

wouldn't speak as he cleaned and stitched the wound

it was only when he finally met your eye that his gaze softened. the apologies started uncontrollably spilling out

he apologised for literally an hour; about how he could have stopped the guy, how he could have gotten there sooner

you had to calm him down the whole night

never let you lift a finger until you were fully healed, and even after that he was hesitant to let you do anything strenuous

you caught him looking at your bandages every so often, even during training

one you even caught him in the act while he thought you were sleeping. he lifted your shirt to check you hadn't pulled any stitches, and you scared the shit out of him when you asked what he was doing

the two of you were climbing to reach a higher vantage point as appointed snipers

your rope snapped and you fell to the rocks below

he damn near snapped his neck trying to repel back down to you

saw your dislocated shoulder and couldn't hide his disgust until you pointed it out

nobody was able to reach you, the two of you were alone

said it'd click back into place on its own, and you weren't sure if he was trying to reassure you or convince himself

but when you explained he needed to knock it back into its socket, he shook his head

flat out just said no

the man can deal with blood and bullets and knives. broken bones or dislocations were not his strong suit

his stomach did that weird flip thing when he saw body parts out of place

you scolded him for being a baby and he pouted at you

had to psych himself up to do it

"its just a stupid shoulder, get it together" "don't be a baby, it'll take two seconds" "god that's so disgusting, why does it look that gross"

your eyes nearly rolled out of your head and the initial pain had basically subsided by the time he actually did it

nearly threw up when he felt your shoulder pop back into its socket

was riding alongside you in the truck when it flipped over from an enemy missile

the whole vehicle launched topside and rolled upside down

his first port of call was to turn and check on you, rushing to panic when he saw the blood on your face

after pulling himself out of the vehicle, he ran around and yanked over the driver side door, unclipping your belt and pulling you onto the pavement

saw your broken leg and almost passed out

literally forgot all his medic training in that one moment and only ended up calling for an evac when you told him to

was at your every beck and call while you recovered

you had to be wheelchair bound during your recovery, and as the base trainer, you were able to do your job from your chair

made jokes about you now having to be on wheels

did anything to lift your spirits

helped you with absolutely anything you needed, and secretly kind of liked that he had to take care of you

fell into the male housewife role really quick. scarily quickly

wheels you around base, and more often than not rolls over somebody's toes when he passes them. doesn't have the best spatial awareness capacity

always there to change your bandages, check your wounds

whenever your leg hurts, he's like a professional masseuse

#fluff #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod #captain price #captain price x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #soap #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick smut #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick

[avaf00rdxx]

Little Shits 4

Arsenal wfc x teen!reader

Auswnt x Teen!reader

summary: you cherish some special and cheeky moments with you club team during your birthday week, and the end of Camp with you national team.

warnings: none, maybe that its edited shit - someone teach me to feel confident with my writing again so i can actually write something good

-----------------------------------------------------

“You can’t make up your mind, mind, mind, mind, mind!” You and Alanna screeched into the microphones on the team bus back from Marvel stadium.

“Make it stop!” Kyra screamed over the extremely loud music, covering her ears, causing other girls to laugh and yell in agreement

“Shawty is a eenie meenie miney mo lover!” You sung into Caitlin’s face in her seat, she recorded you as she laughed, you would later find that video on her insta story.

Alanna threw you over her shoulder as you walked back to your bus seats once you were both finished your karaoke song. Voices gone.

You and your national team had just won against Uzbekistan with a wicked 10-0 and were officially going to Paris. Something you had been losing sleep on for weeks.

“You have ruined Justin Bieber for me you two!” Mimi yelled over the rows

“Oh get over it!” You yelled back laughing

You had some of the sprite bottle that was in your backpack to cool down after the performance before Alanna laid on your shoulder from next to you. “Tell me I’m dreaming and we don’t have to get on a 3am flight”

You pinched her

“Ow don’t pinch me” she exclaimed as she rubbed the now red skin

“Dreaming?” You laughed “we are going to be awake the whole night before that it’s fine”

“I’m already tired” she said before muzzling herself back into your shoulder.

“You’re boring” you said already bored at her energy level, getting up out of your seat while the rest of the bus was still singing and going nuts in excitement.

When the bus reached the Hotel you all took the lift to your respected rooms. You all had roommates this camp, and you were with Caitlin as she would usually room with Sam.

When you reached your room you both plopped onto your bed's before you reached over to the phone next to you as Caitlin got up to use the bathroom.

“Room service?” You asked as she had left the room to shower, before she quickly popped around the corner again and pursed her lips at you grinning. Implying a cheeky ‘yes’.

You dialed in the number as the phone rang to the kitchen and greeeting the staff on the line. “Yes just two of your cheese burgers, two fries, one side salad, two chicken nugget meals please and your umm…chocolate Sundae as well as your strawberry one” you said, ordering a lot for you and the hungry brunette

Caitlin came into the bedroom once again, giggling at your requests on the phone.

“20 minutes is fine. Thank you!” Before hanging up the phone and putting it back on the bedside table.

“I’m not gonna have any room for my airplane food!” Caitlin said

“I don’t understand how you like that stuff”

“Airplane food is great” she shrugged

You both had 1 hour before you had to leave for the airport. It wasn’t long at all, considering you both had stuff scattered around the apartment. Caitlin’s face cringed in confusion at your choices but left it before she got on the phone with her girlfriend and your Arsenal Teammates Katie.

—————————

“No fucking about alright? Everyone is tired” Mackenzie warns you and Kyra as you are lined up for boarding, large carry ons in hand and an all too eager duo consisting of you and your best friend.

“Hm” Kyra shrugs at the tall brunette

“We won’t, I’m tired too you’ll be fine” you reassured Mackenzie

As you slowly made your way down the boarding bridge you yawned more than twice on your way you were sure. Greeting the flight attendants you and Kyra made it to your respected seats.

You had fallen asleep after an hour, which is what you were specifically not meant to do due to all of the London Aussies trying to align themselves back with European time. But you slept for five hours and now you were up. Bored as nothing else as basically the rest of the plane slept.

Peeking over the small separator of a wall between you and Kyra, you found her dead asleep. Mouth hung open like drool was about to drip out any moment. You sent a photo of the girl in her state to your Matilda’s group chat, attaching ‘I hope all you who didn’t have to leave at 3 are having fun🥰’.

Quickly deciding to get up and go to the bathroom, you found Mini waiting at the bathroom door for someone to come out so she could go. She found you walking down the aisle and smiled at you before opening her arms slowly to hug you.

You lazily accepted her arms and slumped into her embrace. “I fell asleep just before” you said leaning into her side, keeping your feet grounded as the plane slightly felt wobbly.

“Naughty” Mini chuckled

When the older woman came out of the bathroom, Mini offered for you to go first but you insisted she go. Then noticing a very tired toddler in her seat a few rows down from the bathroom as you waited, Harper yawned bringing her smaller arms up to stretch which made your heart melt. Her tired and slow eyes found yours as she smiled before opening her arms for a hug.

Even though you were quite a fair bit away for her, you made your way back down the aisle to sit next to her in her overly large seat. She crawled into your lap, resting her body there. You, Carefully stroking her arm and looking around the plane at some of the girls asleep, you had completely forgotten about needing to use the toilet before Mini came down the aisle once again.

———————————————

“And to all those returning home, welcome home” the captain said sweetly over the overhead speakers, Kyra rolling her eyes. You had slung your carry on over your shoulder and prepared to get straight out of your seat once Kyra had gotten her over-head carry on out.

“Hello London” you said once you finally made it to baggage claim and stopped to stand and stretch for a moment, before resting on your suitcase waiting for the other girls to grab their’s. Katie would be picking both you and Caitlin up and would drop you home. Teyah picking Kyra up.

“Oh my gosh can I please get a photo y/n!” You heard an excited voice behind you. Your tired expression immediately vanished as you turned around on your heel to meet with the voice.

A girl and a boy that looked about 10 years old stood there cutely with their phones out asking for a photo. “Me?” You asked smiling

“Yes! Only if that’s okay” the short boy said

“Of course” you smiled before putting your handbag on top of your suitcase so you could take the photo.

“We are Australian too! We are on holidays” the girl explained once you handed her phone back to her after you all took the photo

“Oh I thought I heard some Australian accents” you laughed “what do you think of London?”

“It’s very cold” the girl said

“Yeah” they both laughed

“Oh I agree. Bit different from Australia. What are your names?” You asked them

“I am Emma”

“And I’m Luke I play soccer like you!” The small boy said after his sister

“That’s awesome wow!” You said excitedly.

“Hey y/l/n, Katie’s here” Caitlin said from behind you. Not seeing the two young fans that you were talking to just yet.

“Caitlin Foord!” The little girl said excitedly before they both ran off to her. The small boy waving to you as he ran.

You looked a little to the left to find the Irish girl standing there smiling at the interaction, you walked towards her before she started to do the same to you when she noticed you. You hugged, a hug that felt long because it felt soothing to be in her arms like always. Every time Katie hugged someone, it was liked she always framed them in her arms perfectly.

“How you going tiny?” She asked looking down at you with that wide and comforting smile.

“Good”

“Good” Katie mimicked you

“Very tired but I’m happy” you shrugged before pulling her back in. Before feeling a slight tug at the hood of your jumper. Caitlin pulling you away from Katie, so she could greet her. You grabbed your suitcase quickly while they kissed and did whatever else you chose not to look at for too long.

“Let’s go” Katie said grabbing your suitcase off of you so she could hold it before you all walked to her car and out of the airport.

————————————————————————

“Vivvy I don’t need your help” you groaned as Viv came over to where you sat at the dining table, attempting to help you with your homework for the 10th time tonight.

“We aren’t starting this movie until it’s done and unless you want to be hated from us collectively I suggest you pick up that pen” Viv stated trying to keep her words firm and clear.

“Kyra I’ll have one” you pointed to Kyra who was at the fridge getting herself a coke. Completely ignoring Viv who attempted to help you hurry up.

“I give up we are starting the movie” Viv said before walking back to the living room where most of the girls were already.

It was a team bonding night with some of the girls who lived super close to you, Kyra and Alessia’s building. Everyone forced the idea on you that you would host. As no one else was bothered to host and cook for everyone.

You were quite a good cook as the 16 year old yourself. So you gave in, but had deadlines for your online school due tomorrow that you were nowhere near done. The girls found out about your deadlines and made sure you finished them.

“I’ll just ask for an extension” you shrugged getting up and heading to your kitchen to grab the coke off the island that Kyra left for you.

“You can’t just ask for an extension every time” Caitlin, your Australian teammate, said from her position leaning against your kitchen counter, digging her grimey fingers into the leftover salad on the counter.

“out” you flicked her fingers out from the bowl and pulled her arm with you into the living room. “Yeah well I don’t know my teachers so I don’t care” you shrugged before you both sat down on the couch. Caitlin having to take the floor, sitting in between her girlfriend’s legs, due to there being no more space left in the couch nor the beanbags.

“Excited to be 17 tiny?” Laura said from her position on the couch next to you

“Very” you smiled sweetly. It was your birthday in two days.

“That reminds me. Game day in two days, so we can’t watch this full movie” Kim said from the other end of your couch

“Oh come on” Leah groaned like a child to her club Captain

The movie had been playing for around 45 minutes now. When Kyra’s intrusive ideas quickly sprung up and she was sharing them with you. “If we snuck out no one would notice” she whispered

You quietly chuckled at the comment that came completely out of no where, before some of the girls turned to look at you, as the movie scene playing was definitely not that funny.

“Mate how are you gonna do that”

“Your gonna do it with me” Kyra said, you laughed quietly dropping your head and shaking it.

“Yeah and where the hell are we gonna go”

“We can literally just go to my apartment or the lobby. Just to see how long they notice, or how long it takes for them to finally find us” she said finally now leaning back into the couch to act casual, but waiting for your response. Instead you headed to the kitchen

“I’m grabbing water” you said as the rest of the girls eye’s stayed on the screen, Kyra’s following you before quickly getting up and following you when you motioned her to do so.

“I’m in, come on” you whispered before grabbing your key and heading for your front door, which was luckily behind the couch where the rest of your friends lay.

“Should we take our phones?” Kyra asked looking back before she shut the door behind her.

“Nah” you shrugged before Kyra finally shut it, very, very gently.

Bad idea.

————————————

Vic’s Pov

I got up to use the toilet, softly apologise to girls as I stepped over their legs that sprawled out over the carpet before I made my way to the bathroom. I knocked, remembering that Kyra had gone in not too long ago.

“Kyra?” I questioned softly after hearing not response, knocking again. “Kyraaa” I dragged out as I very very gently opened the door slightly to see if she was even in there. When my head finally poked through, I saw no one there. Walking in to double check, there was no one.

“Guys where is Kyra?” I yelled from the bathroom not too loudly. There was silence for a moment as none of the girls bothered to respond to me.

“Where’s y/n?” Katie yelled back, making me exit the bathroom and go out to see the rest of them. “Y/n” Katie slightly yelled across your small apartment. Going to check your bedroom and guest bedroom. “Did you say Kyra was gone too?” Katie asked me as she walked to the rooms, the movie now paused.

“Yeah she’s not in the bathroom like I thought she was” I said before following Katie, me laughing slightly once we checked both rooms only to find them not anywhere.

“Fuck me” Kim said under her breath, now getting up front the couch, Teyah also getting up along with Lia. Viv and Leah asleep on the couch.

Kim went to the kitchen to grab her phone so she could call y/n and Kyra. “Kim” Katie said motioning for her to look at herself, holding up both there phones as she walked out of the room. Signalling they left them.

“Why do they do this” Caitlin said as she went to your front door to look out into the hallway, before completely disappeared down it to look for both of you.

end of pov

———————

“You dumb kid why did you say no when I asked about taking phones?” Kyra groaned as you both sat up against the wall, the outside of your apartment building. You and Kyra had ventured down to the lobby, only to think that it was too obvious, so you walked outside into the dark and sat outside the building. Dangerous. Yep.

“Oi Don’t call me that. Why did you ask me then?” I rushed

“This is boring come on” Kyra said before getting up and reaching her arms out, offering for you to latch on so she could help you up. Kyra dragged you back through your libby and then out a door. Leading to the car park.

“It’s so scary down here no” you said standing in the emergency doorway that you had both snuck into. It was 11pm, pitch black, and Kyra was making her way over to the box trolleys. The trolleys that the residents used to take up large items.

“Push me” Kyra said sitting down in the middle of the trolley, putting her hands in her lap, and crossing her legs.

“No” you hummed

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“Only if you push me after” you gave in. It sounded fun.

“Don’t push me into a car” Kyra laughed as you started to walk with the trolley “faster cmon”

After spinning the trolley around for no more than two minutes filled with laughter and Kyra screaming as the trolley headed for the cement wall. "Okay off, my turn please" you said tugging on Kyra's sleeve before you helped her out of the trolley. As you went to hop in, you both heard the squeaky but heavy door leading to the car park swing open from he other side of the lot. Thinking someone was here to kill you both, you shared a paranoid look before instantly moving behind the red car you were both near, you peaked through the car's back window to see if you could see the figures that had entered, you heard the voice of a female before your eyes landed on Katie, Kim and Teyah.

"Is it a man?" Kyra asked, not looking, her back against the car.

"what? oh, no, worse. Kim Little"

Kyra just looked up at you and smirked before pulling you away, further into the dark parking spaces filled with cars. "Oi!" a strong Irish accent was heard, you looked back as you and Kyra ran through the large car park, locking eyes with a stern Kim Little. "Get back here!" Katie yelled again, a slight goofiness in her voice.

Kyra pulled you behind a car as you noticed Teyah and Katie running up to follow you, you and Kyra ducking out again and running behind another car. "Stop" Teyah breathed out as she ran after you two again. You turned back around only to realise you were running straight towards your captain Kim.

"Ah shit" you chuckled as your jogging came to a stop "hey it was funny-"

"we didn't know where you were, everyone was looking for you two!" Kim exclaimed

"Why" you asked smiling and still breathing heavily, recovering form your chase. Hearing the squeals and laughs from afar, Katie and Teyah were still taking off towards Kyra as they basically played tiggy.

"cause we all care about you. And it worried me that you and Kyra just left"

"Kyra's 22!" you said throwing your arms up

"Is she" Kim said, motioning towards Teyah and Katie tackling Kyra into the cement ground while she broke out into a giggling fit. "besides you're 16!"

"and you're over reacting" you breathed out before grabbing your jumper off the ground near the door and making your way to the exit. Getting in the elevator by yourself, pressing the button with the number 16 on it, heading to your apartment again. Though the lift stopped at ground level, above the car park, someone also trying to get the lift up.

Once the elevator doors opened, a blonde girl with a messy bun and her head in her phone was walking in. Not seeing you yet. "Shit"

Leah looked up from her phone at you. "There you are" Leah said, hitting the back of your head before rubbing your hair aggressively.

"Ow" You groaned, rubbing your head.

"I was looking outside for you, where's Kyra?" Leah said as the lift dinged and you both walked up the hall.

"Kyra's with Kim, Katie and um Teyah" you said, now unlocking your apartment door.

"Where on earth did you go" Leah asked now

"first outside, then the car park" you grinned

"look who it is!" Viv said as you both walked in, from her spot on the couch next to Beth, Laura and Alessia.

"Where is the rest of yous'?" Beth asked you simply shrugged, not bothering to answer, before collapsing into Laura's lap on the couch.

"You're kinda sweaty" Laura said from above your head.

---------------

Your birthday happened to land on a Thursday, which was your day off. Which meant your birthday would be spent not in the gym, and relaxing, just how you preferred. You sat up in your own bed, in your own apartment face timing your whole family on your computer. Once that ended, you stayed in bed, smiling and your heart warming at the Instagram posts your friend's back in Australia had created for your day, and the one's from your teammates also.

After a slow 30 minutes, you finally left the comfort of your blankets and got into the shower to freshen up for the day. You would be meeting the 'London Aussies' for breakfast this morning. Which included you, Caitlin, Steph, Macca, Sam, Kyra and as of late, Mini and Charli. It meant a lot to you that they took the morning's out of their day off to spend it with you on your birthday. Something you weren't sure would've even been thought about when you nervously moved across the world.

Steph offered to pick you up. So after applying some light makeup to match your usually-bronzed Australian self, changing into a warm outfit consisting of Jeans and a crew neck, Steph had texted you that she was now out the front of your apartment complex.

A wide grin was plastered on both your faces as the glass door outside your lobby opened, Steph leaning against her car waiting for you, large bouquet of yellow flowers in her hand. "Happy birthday Dancing queen!" she exclaimed before engulfing you in a tight hug, slightly lifting your feet off the ground in the warm gesture, you giggled at the comment before she let go of you.

She handed the flowers to you, "for me?" you asked in awe of them as she smiled.

"Of course" Steph said warmly

"Thank you it means a lot to me" you said hugging her again.

"Okay let's go i'm starving" She said before skipping off to the other side of the car to drive. You chuckled as you got into the car

"Where are we even going" you asked on the road, curious as to where you and your Aussie teammates would be eating

"I forget what it is called but I have taken you here before, you loved it" Steph said. Moments later, the car pulled into the parking lot, you remembering the cafe now. You saw Kyra getting out of the car with Charli, from your window.

Meeting up with all your Australian teammates from all around London once again made you happy, almost was the highlight of your day. During the breakfast, you got photos together at the table, some of the girl's mentioning that they would post them on their stories later for Instagram. You spoke about the Olympics, Sam's recovery and wedding plan's, along with plan's of Steph's big day also.

"You're gonna love the present from me and Katie" Caitlin grinned, nudging your shoulder, You let out a quiet but excited squeal.

"What are your plan's for the rest of your day y/n?" Sam asked you before sipping her iced coffee.

"I have been invited over to Beth and Viv's place for dinner tonight. So just chilling at my place then I will head over for that" You said to the girls, them all nodding.

-----------------

Your birthday breakfast was over and Steph had dropped you back home, after taking you to the super market. To buy you whatever Sweets or snacks you wanted for your own apartment. You heard a knock at your door so you walked over to it and peeped through the door. Only to be met with a man in a fluro green vest and black hoodie.

"Y/n y/n/n?" the man asked. You hesitated at first, the multiple worried chats from Leah pondering into your mind about not talking to people who just show up at your apartment. That was before you looked down at the large box with pink wrapping paper and yellow ribbon, the object softening your initial expression. You quickly nodded at the man, before singing on a line from the form he put in front of you.

"Thank you" You smiled before he headed off, leaving the pink box at your door. You went to pick it up, it was heavier than you expected, but you brought it inside and placed it on your dining room table. You unwrapped the gift and saw the card from Katie and Caitlin. Their sweet words about how they were proud of your journey and their love for you had you smiling to yourself. You had received multiple gifts, most of them at training yesterday though, they all made you extremely grateful for the teammates you could call home now. The gift from Katie and Caitlin was a light pink Smeg mixer for baking may not seem to exciting, but baking and cooking for the people closest to you was your love language at this point.

Your teammates had become used to you hosting dinners, with your cooking skills. Also getting used to and comfortable with you regularly bringing them baked treats you had made. Some of them like Katie, Leah and Kyra had become quite demanding that you visit them with treats now.

On the cardboard box the mixer, Katie had written largely in thick-red sharpie 'I expect a shit ton of cookies now', her writing taking up the whole left side of the box. You laughed to yourself at her antics before opening up the box and taking a look at your present.

-----------------

You and Viv got out of her car, where she had parked it outside her and Beth's flat. You were here to spend your birthday dinner with them. "Ready?" Viv asked before she opened the door.

"Uh yeah why" you questioned. Quickly before the door swung open and lights were turned on

"Surprise!" yelled a group, you shooting your head up.

You were met with the beaming faces of your whole family. Including your parents, older siblings, grandparents and closest cousins. Your jaw hung low really fast in shock. Your Australian family was all her in front of you. "What are you-" you yelled in excitement before running into your mother's arms. You greeted your whole family eagerly before hugging Beth who watched you interact with a proud smile.

"who did this?" you asked looking up at her, Beth still holding you

"i may have organised it. But you can thank your siblings" she grinned at you before you hugged her tighter.

You spent the rest of the evening eating pizza and talking with your family. You ended up having to get takeaway as Viv bought the wrong meat from the butcher to make for dinner. Forever grateful for your biggest supporters in your life and your Arsenal and Aussie teammates.

-------------

Not my best fic at all so i apologise. And i'm so sorry it took so long. Uni is kicking me in my ass daily so it's hard to edit a such.

xxx

#woso #arsenal women #caitlin foord #leah williamson #matildas #woso community #katie mccabe #arsenal #auswnt #kyra cooney cross #matildas x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #kyra cooney cross x reader #arsenal women x reader #woso x reader #woso x teen reader

[chosok-amo]

DADDY'S CAR: NANAMI KENTO

he was in his mid thirties when he became your stepfather while you were in your mid twenties— he's marrying your mother who's a few years older than him. one day you decided to steal his car for a while until he finds you and that's the start of your life becoming more interesting.

warning content: non-sorcerer nanami!, public / outdoor sex, unprotected sex, daddykink

“hurry up! let’s go!” you shouted, giggling under your breath. “he’ll never know we took the car, so don’t worry about it.” nobara, your childhood friend asked, “are you sure?” wanting to make sure that you wouldn’t get into trouble. “what if kento finds out?” nobara knew that her little friend, you, didn’t always think things through, allowing adrenaline to fuel her decisions and she often paid the price for her behavior. “yeah, I’m sure,” you replied, excitement lighting up your face. “he’s not even home from work for another hour and we’ll be back long before then.”

with that, the two girls threw open the side door to your sprawling home, and walked out to the shiny black Ferrari that sat safely in the garage. the hardtop convertible was breathtaking with its sporty front end and wraparound rear window, hugged by two flying buttresses. both of you filled the air with wild laughter as you jumped into the driver’s seat and nobara quickly slid into the passenger side. “oh my God, this is so hot!” you exclaimed, running your tiny hands over the thick black leather steering wheel. you grinned at nobara, before slipping the gear into drive. the car bolted out of the parking garage, and nobara squealed with excitement and fear.

“slow down!” she shouted above the loud music floating through the car. you paid no attention, whipping out of the long paved driveway onto the curvy road that led to the freeway. you were in your zone, joyriding in your step daddy’s car, with no care in the world. the girls whipped around corners, flying over a steep slope before the car roughly settled back down on the ground. you flicked the blinker on to the right, and turned onto the open highway. you flicked a switch and the hardtop roof began to collapse in perfect orchestration.

the two were now flying down the highway, the wind whipping their hair, as you increased your speed. it didn’t take long before they saw the familiar turnoff that led to the local pizza joint, and you turned the car quickly as its engine roared. “holy shit!” nobara screeched as the car came to a halt. “This car is amazing!” you laughed at your friend’s expression. nobara’s hair was blown out and she looked wild and dangerous.

you weren’t a stranger to joyriding in your step daddy’s car. since he married your mother a few months ago, you've been sneaking off in it every chance you got. you knew your stepfather would freak out if he ever knew, but you couldn’t resist. the vibrations under you, the music pounding in your ears and the wind blowing in your face was far too tempting to ignore. so far, your new step daddy hadn’t found out and you grinned to yourself at what a clever girl you were, making sure it was put back in the very same spot and that it always had the same amount of gas as when he left it.

“well, i’ll be damned!” a voice shouted from behind the car. the two turned their heads to see yuji walking slowly up to the driver’s side, running his hand over the cars backend. “someone’s going to be in trouble.” yuji was impressed. he always thought you was a daring one, but to steal your new stepfather’s car was a whole other story. “damn girl, you’ve got some balls.” you laughed. “well, hey there has to be some perks to my mother marrying a practical stranger,” you said thinking about just how ridiculous it was that your mother married yet another guy after only knowing him for a few weeks.

yuji grinned. “don’t like him much, huh?”

“he’s okay,” you replied nonchalantly. “I don’t know how long he’ll be around for with mom’s track record but hey, I’m enjoying it while it lasts.”  you had been dating yuji for a few weeks now and he was anxious to see his girl handle such a powerful beast. “jump in the back, nobara,” he said. “i want to see my baby handle this beast the way she handles me.” yuji chuckled as nobara snarled at her friend. “you’re disgusting,” she replied, climbing into the back seat. she looked around waiting for yuji to get in front when she noticed a couple of friends walking into the pizza parlour.

“hey, maki!” she yelled, trying to get her friends attention. “y/n, you mind if I hang back here for a bit?” you smiled, anxious for some alone time with yuji. “not a bit,” you replied and waited for your friend to get out, “i’ll pick you back up in 20.” nobara got out of the car and waved to her friend, “see you in a few.” you glanced at yuji before hitting reverse. “you ready?” you asked, with a little wink. “you bet,” yuji replied as he slid his hand over your left thigh, “let’s go, baby.” you spun out of the parking lot, back onto the freeway. you sped down the road as yuji banged along to the music.

“want to go down to the beach?” you asked, switching lanes in preparation for the exit. you knew yuji had the same thing on his mind. “mmm yeah, let’s go,” yuji winked as he squeezed your thigh a little tighter. you drove through the exit until you came to the beach entrance. you pushed on the gas and the car roared down the tiny, narrow road. before too long you were down by the water and you quickly found a spot in the bare parking lot, just a few feet from the shore. yuji reached over and pulled you close, his arms snuggled around your shoulders.

“i missed you today,” he whispered as he pushed his lips hard against yours. “mmm, I missed you too,” you replied, feeling the warmth of his kiss. you bit lightly on his ear, your tongue making small swirls around his earlobe and down his neck. “god, I want to fuck you in this car,” he groaned, turned on by the hot little girl that was busy nibbling on his neck, and the sleek car that engulfed them.

“then fuck me,” you replied, lifting away from yuji long enough to pull up your tight pink t-shirt. yuji shook his head with desire as yours budding tits peeked out from your little bra. “you’re so damn hot,” he mused, sliding his hand over your chest, squeezing her tits together. “get this off,” he breathed, tugging at the clasp on your bra. The material gave way and you let it fall from your shoulders. “mmm…” yuji moaned, as he lowered his face to your chest. he flicked his tongue over your nipples as you threw your head back and groaned.

“i want you so badly,” you replied, pushing your breasts harder into yuji’s open mouth. with the hardtop still down, you were completely exposed to anyone who came wandering by and the thought only turned yuji on even more. “let’s get in the back.” you nodded and climbed over the leather seat into the back. you lay down with you head resting comfortable on the armrest, you small round ass firmly planted on the seat. yuji climbed into the backseat and lay on top of you.

you ran your fingers through his hair, as you kissed deeply. your breath was hard and fast as you hungrily slid your tongue deep into yuji’s mouth. “you’re pretty horny, huh?” he chuckled, running his hands down the sides of your ass, squeezing your hips tightly. “you want me to fuck you?” he asked, already knowing the answer. he had only been dating you for a few weeks now and you already fucked half a dozen times. you was a nymphomaniac and could never seem to get enough of his cock. yuji had no complaints.

“yeah, fuck me now,” you purred in a voice barely above a whisper. “i want to feel your hard cock inside of me.” yuji sucked in his breath, as he felt his cock harden in his jeans. you turned him on more than anyone before you, and he couldn’t wait to spread your legs and fuck you. he pulled away from you to unzip your jeans. you lifted your hips to help him, and he slid them off easily. you lay in nothing but your little pink panties, dotted with small red hearts. Yuji grinned at how incredibly hot you looked, with “fuck me” painted across your face. he sat up on his knees, reading to take off his own pants when he heard a roar above him.

“just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” the voice boomed from behind. you scrambled to sit up, grabbing your t-shirt quickly and pressing it against your bare chest trying to shield your naked body from the trespasser. you squinted in the sunlight to see the shadowy figure walking quickly up to the driver’s side of the car.

“oh my god!” you shrieked, realizing that it was your stepfather, nanami. you pushed yuji away, as you struggled to re-dress. “he’s pissed!” nanami quickly approached the car, red faced and angry. “what the hell are you doing?” he shouted, his fists clenched tightly. he looked down at his stepdaughter and her boyfriend, in disgust and quickly stepped back as he noticed his daughter half-dressed. “you have got to be fucking kidding,” he huffed. “It’s not bad enough that you steal my car but you’re actually fucking in it? Are you serious?”

you didn’t know what to do. you sat frozen in place, staring up at your step daddy, terrified that he would tell your mother and you’d be grounded all summer. “i’m sorry,” was all you could muster in response. Yuji jumped out of the car, opposite from nanami and put his hands up in the air. “i had nothing to do with this, man,” he said backing away from the car, “she already had the car when I saw her at the pizza joint.” you shook your head in disgust at how quickly yuji threw you under the bus. what a dick’ you thought.

nanami nodded slowly, staring straight at yuji. “get the fuck out of here,” he said, with a warning. yuji scrambled backwards, walking away from the car mouthing the words “sorry”. he shrugged at you before turning away. nanami watched the kid jog off, in a cloud of fury. he swiftly turned towards you. “you’re a class act,” he stormed, his voice filled with anger. “nothing more than a spoiled little fucking brat.” you recoiled, clutching your t-shirt closer to your chest. you hadn’t even put it back on yet. instead, you felt glued to your seat unable to move.

“i’m really sorry,” you said, giving him your very best pout. It worked on the other guys, you thought. why not nanami? he wasn’t buying it. “yeah, you’ll be sorry,” he replied. “when your mother finds out, you’ll be sorry all summer.” you winced. your mother would freak out if she knew you took nanami’s car without permission, especially since she already warned you that you needed to be on your best behavior around nanami. god forbid if anyone knew that you had a wild streak.

“go ahead, tell her,” you challenged him, your expression quickly changing from sadness to anger. “who cares? i’ll do whatever i want to do, whether you or my mother likes it or not.” you glared at nanami, waiting for his response. he stood in silence, analyzing the young girl. “so, you’re a feisty one, huh?” he responded, his eyes softening. you rolled your eyes, no longer concerned about what nanami told your mother. you had just turned eighteen and you had plans to move out soon anyway.

“whatever,” you replied looking away from nanami. “like I said, tell my mother if you want to. I don’t care.” nanami said nothing. Instead, he opened the driver’s side door and climbed in. he adjusted the rear view mirror so that your face was centered square in the middle, and started the engine. the loud groan of the engine bucked underneath them and you twisted you body to the side, your t-shirt still clutched tightly against your chest. you couldn’t lift it over your head without exposing your breasts to nanami who stared at you through the rear view mirror.

shrugging, no longer caring what he saw, you lifted it up carefully, your tits exposed. “now, now,” nanami quickly responded. “not so fast. if you want to drive my car, you’ll have to give me something in return.” you paused from pulling your t-shirt over your head, and looked back at him through the mirror. your mind raced as you thought about how attractive your step daddy was and how this might actually work out in your favor. you smiled playfully, and lowered your t-shirt back down to your waist, sitting quietly in place, your budding breasts glistening in the light of the sun.

“what exactly do you want in return?” you asked, toying with nanami as you saw the dark look of lust washed over his face as he took you in, naked from the waist up. nanami sat still, his back still turned to you. he glanced up at you through the mirror again and smiled, before kicking the car into drive and driving out into a side road, away from the beach. he said nothing to her until he pulled the car down a narrow path, just a few minutes away from where they were. you looked out through the side of the car, the breeze blowing hard against your chest.

you didn’t recognize this part of the beach but it was obvious that nanami knew where he was going. he pulled into a small road that led down to a secluded area of the beach, and shifted the car in park. you felt your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. you were excited and at the same time you were nervous of what nanami had in mind, but you sat still waiting for him to speak. he turned sideways in the driver’s seat, his arm swinging over the leather, and looked back at you.

“take off those panties,” he instructed before opening the driver’s side door and stepping out. you sucked in your breath. nanami was a nice looking man but he was much older and far more experienced than you were. you felt your skin flush with heat and you looked at nanami intently, barely moving. “did you hear me?” he responded, his eyes wild with hunger.

“get undressed.”

you nodded, keeping your eyes locked on him. you pushed your t-shirt to the side and lifted up your hips, sliding off your little heart shaped panties. you sat there, timid and shy with your legs closely tightly together. nanami looked at the young girl as you awaited his command. without words, he opened the back door to the car commanded you to get out of the car. you sucked in your breath, as your body tingled with nervousness. nanami waited patiently as you slowly got up out of the car, covering both breasts with you arms.

“now isn’t the time to be shy,” he grinned.

“you sure weren’t this timid when it came to stealing my car now were you?” you looked down at her feet, unsure of what to say.

“I’m really sorr…”

“save it,” nanami replied sternly. “I don’t want to hear another word of it.” you nodded, still looking down at the ground. “get on your knees,” he commanded, as he unbuckled his jeans and pulled the long leather strap out and away from him. He threw it into the open backseat of the car. you knelt down on the white sand, and placed your hands on your knees. you looked up at nanami, and his lips curled up in delight at just how sweet and innocent you looked. but nanami knew better. you were anything but innocent and it was time you was taught a lesson.

nanami stepped a few feet towards you, positioning himself so that his thick, hard cock was just inches from your pouty mouth. you looked up, your eyes widening in surprise at how big nanami’s cock was. you hadn’t seen one so big and thick before. you gulped in nervousness. “have you ever sucked a cock before?” nanami asked, looking down at the top of your little  head. you looked up at him with big beautiful eyes, and slowly nodded.

“yes,” you whispered.

“i can’t hear you,” nanami responded, pulling on your hair, gathering in his fists. he yanked on it gently, so that you looked straight up at him. “do you know how to suck cock?” you nodded, your thick black eyelashes fluttering. “i have done it before.” you said.

he nodded and instructed you further.

“open your mouth and suck it,” he commanded, pushing his cock towards your pouty lips. you struggled to squeeze his cock into your pretty mouth. It was so thick and heavy, and you found yourself choking as you tried to suck harder and harder. you took control, pulling his cock out of your mouth and rubbing it all over your lips. “kiss the tip of my cock,” he instructed, as the little girls tongue flickered over the swollen head of his cock. you pursed your lips together and kissed the head of nanami’s cock. you hadn’t done it quite like this before and you tried your best to make him happy, sucking and licking the head and running your tongue up and down his shaft.

“ahh,” nanami moan. “that’s it. that’s a good little girl.”

nanami grabbed your hair again, clenching handfuls of hair in his fist. with a free hand, he began stroking his cock, forcing it into your mouth. “open wider,” he said as he rammed his cock into your throat. “suck my cock.” you felt your mouth oozing with saliva as nanami forced his cock deep into your throat. you gagged, trying desperately to pull your head back but nanami forced it down again, watching closely as you struggled to suck and lick like a big girl.

he watched as your mouth bobbed up and down on his cock, your perky little tits pressing up against his leg as he forced his cock into your slippery throat. his dick felt so good that he had to force himself to slow down by squeezing on his shaft. you stopped sucking, and slowed down, running your lips along the edge of his shaft as you looked up at him innocently.

“is that okay?” you asked with the sweet voice of a little virgin who had sucked a man’s cock for the very first time. but as much as he wished, you were certainly not a virgin, although he knew that you had never felt a cock quite a thick as his. and he was anxious to spread you open and fuck this little doll. he pulled you into a standing position, spinning you around so that you stood back to.

“spread your legs,” he commanded, pushing your legs apart so he could stand between them. he pushed your shoulders forward so that your flat stomach lay against the car, your ass pointed out towards him. you fingers went to your mouth, and you sucked on your fingertip, as you looked back at nanami. you felt your pussy get hot and wet with anticipation. the idea of your new daddy fucking your tight little pussy drove you over the edge and you suddenly had a hunger for him that you never felt before.

“are you going to fuck me, daddy?” you asked in your best little girl voice. nanami felt his cock throb, as he looked over at his little princess. your ass was so tiny and your body was still developing. the sight of your tiny frame made his cock grow even harder. nanami reached down and squeezed your little ass, making you squeal.

“i’m so sorry I stole your car,” you whined, knowing you was about to be punished.

“you’re such a little slut, y/n,” nanami replied, turning away from you so that your  ass was tucked into his left arm. “you can’t take daddy’s car without asking. do you understand?” you nodded, your fingertips still in your mouth. you looked afraid of what was about to happen, but you hard little nipples revealed just how hot you really were. nanami held your hips tightly against his side, and swatted your right ass cheek.

“ohh, daddy!” you cried. “that hurt!”

nanami ran his hand over your ass to relieve the sting, before swatting it again. “are you going to ask daddy before you take my car again?” he asked, his throbbing cock pushing against your leg. “yes, daddy,” you nodded. “i promise I’ll be a good girl.” nanami ran both of his big hands over your ass, soothing it gently.

“That’s my good little girl,” he replied. he twisted around so that he was directly behind you and pushed you down onto the car. “but daddy needs his little girl to show him just how sorry she really is,” he said, rubbing the tip of his cock into your smooth pussy. you moaned. “yes, daddy,” you said in a tiny whisper. you spread your legs so that nanami could push his cock deeper into your tight little pussy. nanami groaned, feeling your little girl cunt struggle to open up enough to fit his cock in. it was so tight and wet, and he had trouble squeezing into you.

“your pussy is so tight,” he breathed, feeling your pussy wrap around his cock, “feel so nice and tight.” you moaned. he made you feel hot, and you suddenly felt your pussy get wetter than ever before. “ohh, daddy,” you breathed not knowing what was happening to your body. you had sex with a boy before, you thought, but it never felt anything like this before. nanami was just so big. you trembled, your skin glistening with sweat.

“daddy, my pussy feels soooo good!”

“that’s a good girl,” nanami moaned, watching as his thick cock slid in and out of the tiny hole. he spread her ass cheeks, and pulled her closer to his body, as he pumped her little pussy in smooth, steady strokes. “baby, i want you to play with your clit for me, could you that for me?” nanami kept pushing in and out of your bare little snatch, as you slid your hand down to your clit. “rub your little clit, y/n,” nanami instructed. you did as your stepdaddy ordered, rubbing your small clit with the flat of your fingertips. you moaned with delight.

“i love playing with my little pussy,” you whispered, rubbing wet circles over your clit. nanami pumped harder, knowing you was about to cum and wanting to push his sperm deep into your little belly at the same time. “you’re making daddy feel so good, baby,” he panted, as he felt his balls tighten and his cock surge. “i want you to cum in my little pussy,” you said in a voice barely above a whisper. nanami’s cock pounded into your little pussy, and he knew he was seconds away from exploding. he increased the rhythm, sliding his entire cock into your precious cunt.

“ow! come inside my little pussy, daddy!” you begged your stepdaddy. “i want to feel it!” nanami couldn’t hold off any longer. you were pushing hard against his cock, and he couldn’t believe how much your little cunt could take. you rubbed your pink slit furiously, and he felt your little body quiver beneath him. “i’m coming, daddy!” you screamed unable to control what was happening to your body. your breath was frantic and you pushed harder and harder against him. nanami bucked against her in deep strokes and his cum exploded into your pussy.

“Ahh!” he groaned, filling his shaft emptying inside of you. he drew back, clutching onto the side of the car as he felt the dizzy aftershock of his orgasm. your chest heaved as you gasped for breath. your face was flushed in heat, and your skin soaked with sweat. “nanami?” you whispered, as you sat down on the sand, feeling your legs buckling beneath you.

nanami gasped, his breath heavy. “yes?”

“that felt so good,” you replied, a bright wide grin on your little mouth.

nanami nodded with a smile.

“u think you and I are going to get along just fine,” he said before gathering his jeans from the backseat.

“get dressed. we have to get home before your mother begins to wonder where you are.” nanami held out his hands to help his little girl get up on her feet. you beamed, excited about the idea of what was to come. your new daddy wasn’t so bad after all, you thought, as you redressed and slid into the passenger seat.

“wait,” you replied, clicking the door shut and pulling the seatbelt over her shoulder. “how did you find me at the beach?” nanami looked at you with a mischievous grin. “do you really think I’d leave the keys to my car hanging on the hook in the den if I didn’t want them to be found?

“you mean, you left them there on purpose knowing I’d take your car?” you asked, confused. “you were always so predictable”, nanami replied, giving you a little wink. “but how did you find me?” you asked. “don’t worry about that”, nanami replied grinning. “but next time, just remember that if you take something from me, i take something from you.” you giggled. so, your stepfather liked to play games, you thought. let’s see what he does when I borrow his Platinum Mastercard.

nanami pushed the gas pedal and the car raced over the bumpy landscape, leaping towards the highway. having a new stepdaughter might not be such a bad thing after all, he thought as he turned up the music.

whe song Secret Lovers blared through the speakers, and they laughed together.

what a perfect song for a perfect day.

#jjk nanami #nanami kento x you #kento nanami smut #nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x you smut #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #yuji smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #yuji itadori smut #smut #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen imagines

[thisfanisgonesorry]

how about some quick fuck with hobie after the show? she gives him a nice bj in a quiet alley and he fingers her in the car otw home…

ty for the ask <3 i wrote most if the same day you sent it and then started dying, hopefully its good! got a lil lazy at the end because i have no object permanence but i tried my best :) 

tags: smut, estab, blowjob/fingering duh, love the carfucking trope, public sex/voyeurism, almost caught oooo

🕷

We slid out the backdoor of the venue, and Hobie let out a long sigh. The tension quickly dissipated as he felt the fresh air on his face. “Fin’lly.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Long night.” He spoke, slumping against the concrete wall. “C’mere, love.” He opened his arms in a loose hug, gesturing for me to hug him back before he forcibly pulled me into it due to taking too long.

He pressed kisses into my neck the second that it was in kissing distance. His hands slowly, and taking their sweet time too, fell from around my shoulders to land around my waist, keeping me in place as he pressed his body wholly against me.

“Lovely girl.” He mumbled. 

“I can feel you.” I smiled, whispering in his ear.

“Sorry.” He lied. “Y’re just so good.” That part had been truthful; his kisses found their way up my neck and onto my cheek before he kissed me sweetly on the mouth. “So good to me.”

There was an abrupt screaming heard from the main drag as the rest of the band left through the front door. Signing autographs, taking photos. The commotion was audible, and there was a moment of guilt for anyone trying to actually sleep in this city.

He turned his head to the sound, his eyebrows knitting slightly.

I slid out of his grip and kneeled on the dirty pavement, feeling the scraping against my skin. He turned his head quickly to meet my gaze, sucking in a sharp inhale as he held his hands awkwardly to his sides, not sure what else to do.

“Oh.. Fuck.” He breathed. “That.. ‘s good.”

“Mhm, you look real tense.” I answered back, rubbing my hands up his thighs. His hands awkwardly found their way to his crotch, being a gentleman, he unbuckles, unbuttons and unzips his pants and pulls himself out. 

“Y’so good t’me. Y’know exactly what I need.” His breathing was quick, and he continued to look towards the screaming.

“No one knows we’re here.” I spoke, spitting in my hand and kissing his hip. I gingerly stroked his length, feeling his muscles tense at the touch.

“I know..”

I pressed a chaste kiss on the side of the base, watching all the air leave his lungs in anticipation. I continued slowly stroking him before licking a straight line up the backside of the whole length, then taking the tip in my mouth.

“Shit.” He hissed. “Love it when y’do that.”

I swirled my tongue on the underside of him, and his hand reached for the back of my head, not pushing; just holding. His eyes stayed glued on mine as I hollowed my cheeks and slowly took more in my mouth.

“That’s it, baby, shit, take it.”

The slow movement down was driving him crazy until eventually my nose pressed against his stomach, his mouth fell open and I held the position, feeling him twitch at the very back of my throat. I kept him there for a moment, and he was trying his best to not thrust into me.

“Y’look so fuckin’ hot on y’r knees in that cute li’l skirt. Could cum from jus’ seein’ my dirty girl like this.” He panted. “Can’t believe y’re suckin’ me off in an alleyway.”

I pulled off for air, kissing the side of his base again. “Can’t believe you’re lettin’ me.” I moved back, but this time I began to bob my head at a gracious pace, he grabbed a handful of hair but wasn’t tugging harshly. 

I placed my hand on his, telling him it was okay, and he took that and ran with it, grabbing more hair and moving me back and forth on him, fucking my face but still being gentle enough to not make me deepthroat him.

His volume increased and he was cautious of the crowd of people just around the corner. There was only so long that he could last like this.

“Someone could catch us—” He started, choking out a groan and his dick twitching at his own ideas. “Fuck, the look on their face.. Seein’ m’cock down y’r throat.”

I pushed on his thighs, and he took the hint quickly, letting go of his movements and instead quickly started moving both of his hands to hold my hair in a makeshift ponytail, keeping it out of my way.

“Y’re so fuckin’ beautiful, love.” He commented, I moaned around him at his words and a low growl was his response. “Love the way y’r eyes look up at me. Love the way y’look on my prick, shit, y’re way too good f’me.”

His words were admittedly egging me on, making it so I started going faster and taking more of him. He groaned in response, his grip on my hair tightening as I wrapped my hands around him again, stroking what I couldn’t reach, my other hand wrapped from his thigh to the back of his leg, trying to ground myself.

“Baby, ‘m gonna cum.” He moaned, closing his eyes and throwing his head back, careful enough to not slam it right against the concrete wall.

I hummed around him, expressing delight that he was there so quickly. His breathing got heavy and he weakly thrust into the blowjob, ruining the rhythm but it was getting him off.

“Y/n—” He whined, his gaze falling back down to me and he pulled me off of him, quickly wrapping his hand around mine.

I poked my tongue out, keeping my mouth open as his hand guided mine to stroke him to completion. Quick, long strokes that made him swallow thickly, trying to contain his noises so the crowd didn’t know we were here. 

“Hobie.” I breathed, letting him feel my hot breath on his aching skin.

I moved my head up slightly, pressing my tongue flat against the bottom of his tip, he let out a loud curse, followed by a mess of groans and moans as he came on the wet softness of my tongue.

He panted, begging for air as he watched it pool on my tongue. I held it on display for him as he quickly tucked himself away, making quick glances to the crowd’s noises. His eyes silently begged for me to swallow him, going wide in anticipation. 

I dramatically swallowed his spend, letting him hear the gulp sound.

“I don’t deserve you.” He said matter-of-factly, pulling me to my feet. “I gotta get you home..” He trailed off, speaking to himself as he quickly walked us to the car. 🕷 Halfway through the drive home, his hand on my thigh started exploring more, gradually going higher.

“Bet y’re so wet.” He groaned in admittance to his thoughts, letting his fingers brush against my panties and confirming his suspicions. “That from blowin’ me?” He tried to joke, but it didn’t land when all the air left his lungs and it came across like a desperate plea for validation.

“Course it is.” I responded back, biting my lip and trying not to squirm at his invasive touch as he groped what he could.

He let out a shaky exhale as he slid his hands through the waistband of the panties, his eyes kept flicking to me, glancing briefly before focusing on the road. In the middle of the city, this would not be the place to lose attention.

He ran his index and middle finger up and down the wetness briefly before pushing them in, inwardly cursing at himself when he felt the wetness swallow him.

“Such a perfect pussy.” He praised. “Love fuckin’ this pussy, love how it clenches around me, jus’ like that.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and looked out the window, squirming under his touch and biting back any sounds that threatened to leave my mouth.

“Babyy..” He cooed.

“What?” I hesitantly responded, turning to him.

“Make them pretty noises f’me.”

“Hobie, we’re.. Mhm.. Focus on the road.” I answered, stifling moans. He spoke sweetly and adoringly, as if he wasn’t knuckle deep inside of me.

“‘M gonna fuck y’brains out.” He said bluntly despite how loving it sounded. “Bet y’re gonna make a mess all over m’carseat, yeah?” He commented, fingering at a steady pace.

I tried to close my legs around his hand but it was useless, I turned away from him again, hiding my flushed face. “Hobie..” I whined, grabbing his hand. “An alleyway is one thing, but in the car is another.”

“What? Scared some fans might come up to the window?” He teased, struggling to keep his eyes on the road. The city was packed full of fans, walking around post-show, and every now and then, he’d be recognised through the car window.

I helplessly tried to grind against his hand, chasing the orgasm, however he halted the moments, using his elbow to push me into the seat and stop moving around.

“Relax. I’ll be good to you.”

“I know.”

“Are you gonna let y’self go?” He spoke sweetly, continuing his actions.

There was a moment of silence where all that filled the air was desperate pants as he did what he wanted. He carefully drove through the streets as if nothing was happening, completely as oblivious as the outside world.

I grabbed at his hands, lifting my hips for a better angle and glancing out the window. “So many people are staring at us.”

“They ain’t got a clue, love.” He responded with a cocky tone. “Y’re fuckin’ y’self on my hands, but y’still worried about someone catching you?”

“Shut up..” I mumbled, still looking out the window to avoid his gaze as I tried to ride his fingers in the small amount of room I had to move.

“Speak up.” He spoke, doubling his efforts. “Look at me, pretty girl.”

I finally turned to him, resting against the headrest, he was trying to keep eye contact while also driving safely. “The road.” I spoke through stifled moans.

“Y’really gonna take away the best part of this f’me?” He joked, keeping his attention on the road. “I gotta see y’cum or gotta hear it. Which one, darlin’?”

“Fuck, Hobie.” I finally moaned out after denying it to myself (and him); “You’re so annoying.” I laughed softly, though the laugh ended quickly as another moan escaped my lips.

“Can’t take y’seriously right now.” He joked back.

“Eyes forward.”

“Look at you, takin’ my fingers so damn well.” He praised, keeping his elbow pressed against my stomach, limiting my squirming. He wanted complete control over how I’d take him. He kept his eyes glued to the road, letting his mind wander as my sounds filled his ears.

“God, how are your hands that fucking good?”

“They were made for you.” He purred, an intoxicating sweetness to his words as he toyed with me. “Also, playing guitar helps.”

“Close.” I moaned. “Hate those stupid hands.”

“Can feel it. Can feel how much y’love ‘em.”

He paused, the car stopping at the redlight. “Hobes, please.” I whined, careful of bypassers, knowing that anyone could recognise us.

“Y’right there, darlin’, go on, baby.” He beckoned sweetly, I clenched around him and a low growl dragged from his throat. “Calm down a li’l, thought y’didn’t want anyone to see?”

He watched intently, his mouth falling agape, wanting to take in every detail on how I unwound with him fucking me in his carseat. It was a sight that he’d print onto the back of his eyelids. 

“Shit, right there—” I cried out, feeling it hit me fast and hard. I writhed against his hands in the car seat, praying that I wasn’t making a mess like he predicted. I rode it out as best I could, grinding helplessly.

“That’s it.. Always so pretty f’me.”

He pulled his fingers out, sticking them between his lips and tasting the sweetness as I covered myself, pulling my skirt down to be decent. 

“Y’taste so damn good.”

“That was..” I hummed, he leant over the console, pressing a kiss on my lips and placing his hand back on my thigh.

“I know.” He smiled, his eyes glancing to the window.

There was a knock on the window and he smiled at them. My eyes went wide and my cheeks flushed. “Oh my god.” I mumbled.

He rolled the window down in the console, leaning over me to talk to the fan. The light stayed red with a long line of traffic ahead of us. I covered my face with my hand, resting my elbow on the car door, watching them interact.

They talked for a small moment and I felt the embarrassment rise in my chest. “Hobie, the lights green.” I mumbled, nudging him.

“Of course.” He smiled sweetly, waving goodbye to the fan and pulling away. The interaction ended shortly, and he nudged me as he leant back in his seat. “Y’re so red.” He laughed.

“How aren’t you mortified?”

“I don’t have stage fright.” He winked.

#marvel #hobie brown #smut #spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader one shot #hobie brown x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #hobart brown #hobie x reader #atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk #atsv hobie #hobie brown fluff #spiderpunk x you #hobie brown fanfic

[mayearies]

SPIDERMAN CLASSIC …. miles morales ⟡

… ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

#MILESMORALES brooklyn’s one and only spiderman!

⟡ genre: fluff | warnings: platonic/romantic pov, implied aged up જ⁀➴ note!: first time actually using miles as a graphic wow also hype up my 1610 fics more damn

the large metal doors shut behind you as the music became muffled. your makeup was nicely done, your dress beautiful, but not for the one it was intended to be seen by.

yup. you got stood up at prom.

he was this guy you liked, you considered a friend. and he stood you up. the grey message from your screen illuminated on your face as you leaned against the alleyway. you were disappointed, yeah. but nothing to cry about. the thing to cry about is how humiliating it was.

you left after a few drinks, you friends toning down your sadness. but it didn’t last long. you just wish-

“hey!”

“wh-?!”

well, this was a surprise. here laid infront of you was the infamous spiderman who saved your city every day. or spiderman 2, most people called him. the only thing different was he was wearing a suit with a bowtie and flowers. and it matched your dress. coincidence? also he was upside down. that’s normal.

“spiderman?”

“yeah! that’s me,” he rubbed the nape of his neck “sorry, is it weird to see me out of character like this?”

“more or less. why are you so dressed up?”

“long story short— i’m finding a prom date last minute.”

that was both true and a lie. the boy behind the mask was finding a prom date last minute, yeah, but it was purposeful in a way. you could have swore he was younger. he sounded like a freshman or sophomore to you.

“um.. yeah. that’s all im really in for. what are you doin’ out here? arent you cold?”

“a little. i got stood up tonight by my date. sucks, huh?”

he nodded like he didn’t know. you didnt hear it from me, but, that was no mistake. he webbed the guy to a nearby alleyway a few blocks down. apparently he had been that pickpocket going around all throughout this week.

a win is a win in miles’ eyes.

“…would you like to be my date? you can say no of course i was just asking-!”

“that.. would be nice. amazing, actually.”

his lenses went wide, taking up most of his mask which was pretty cute. underneath, he could feel his face warming up. and not because he was upside down.

“really?”

“yeah! then i can brag to my friends how i went to prom with spiderman or something, it would be fun.”

“.. would you go with me if you knew who was under this mask?”

“mmm. depends. you seem sweet. my parents say you’re a jerk. you know, that week that rhino destroyed my dad’s car and blamed you? i saw the whole thing so i thought different.”

his face was heating up more, definately not because he wasn’t right side up.

truth was, miles may have been stalking you for a while. he liked you a lot but was too shy to directly confront you, so he watched from the sidelines. found out everything you liked. everything you loved. he just wishes he was a part of that list.

“also, you sound familiar. have we met?”

“what? nonononono- i’ve never seen you in my life!”

“uh huh.”

you did wonder who was underneath, now. you never suspected it would have been someone you knew, but the drastic change in tone once he dropped the fake deep voice made you wonder.

you wanted to pull his mask above his eyes to see if you did know him, but he waved his hands at the point where it reached over his nose. he seemed like a really shy guy, despite him being the hero of brooklyn.

you hummed in contentless, “well, my friends might hear an earful from me about this encounter. and how i’m going to be dancing with the savior of new york. so thanks for that, spidey.”

you gave him a small kiss on the cheek and he froze, fully expecting a kiss on the lips. peter told him about this whole ‘spiderman kiss’ thing and he wanted to try it. its how he won over mj, after all.

even if it didn’t turn out the way he hoped.

“woah..”

“didnt expect that?”

“absolutely not!”

afterwards notes: rewrote this twice also hype this up wtf

©hiimayee loves you !

#miles morales #miles g morales #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #miles morales blurbs #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #spiderman 1610 #miles morales 1610 #earth 1610 #spiderman kiss #1610 miles x reader #miles 1610 #earth 1610 miles fluff #miles morales fic #miles x reader #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales imagine

[sillysowa]

I’m sorry if this is against your boundaries, please say if it is ☺️ But, would you write a Hobie x reader smut but Hobie is kinda like ‘angry’ with y/n bc he’s jealous he’s spending more time with her friends than Hobie so he just one day pulls them away in the middle of a conversation she’s having with her friends maybe to a random room and locks them both in there’s and it’s just jealous Hobie sex its 100% okay if you aren’t okay with writing this! 🫶

I’m completely chill with this in a non-toxic way which is what you clarified in another ask so here you areee~!

JELLY

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER

GENRE: SUGGESTIVE, SMUT

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

WARNINGS: USE OF Y/N, LIGHT SPANKING, SEMI-PUBLIC SEX, CUMMING ON THIGHS, POSSESSIVENESS AND JEALOUSY, FEM!OC THAT HITS ON READER

AUTHORS NOTE: NOT PROOFREAD

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE’S NOT TOO FOND OF YOUR TOUCHY FRIEND

—

You hadn’t told Hobie that your friends would be at the club tonight.

He doesn’t have a problem with you having friends or hanging out with them—but tonight? Fuck no.

You wore the sexiest dress Hobie had ever seen you in, form fitting and the perfect color on your skin—he was practically glued to you. On the walk to this new hidden nightclub he was dying to go to with you, he had a firm grip on your side, his hand occasionally slipping down to squeeze your ass,

“Look so pretty, doll.” He whispers in your ear, making you blush and shyly tell him,

“Stop~” You giggle. He doesn’t, he lives for that embarrassed look on your face as you press more and more against him while you walk, hugging his whole arm close to you. Any man that walked by eyes you in a predatory way, quickly averting their eyes when Hobie stared back, pulled you closer, or snapped at them with a quick,

“Piss off.”

You near the entrance to the club, a restaurant by day. You both bathe in the purple flown of the LED sign before you stand in the short line, waiting your turn.

The bouncer lets the both of you in, and you walk through the narrow hallway into the lower part of the restaurant. It’s small, it’s beautiful, and it’s packed. You nearly suffocate anywhere you turn. Hobie hokds you close, bringing you onto the dance floor and holding you close,

“This place is nice ain’t it?” He smirks, leaning down so you can hear him over the background sounds. You nod, eyes full of life and energy,

“Yeah! This is gonna be a good night Hobes.” You smile in that silly way that makes his heart squeeze. He dances with you, sensually and smooth. When you dance, you take on a persona of sorts—you’re wild, free and absolutely gorgeous. Hobie doesn’t care if your dancing is objectively good or bad, it’s so you, so to Hobie, it’s beautiful. One specific song gets you revved up, twerking to the beat. Hobie comes close to get behind you when he see’s two manicured hands grab your hips. You both flinch and look at the person, and both of you have vastly different reactions.

“Oh my god, Destiny, Hey! What the fuck, what are you doing here?” You gasp, hugging your best friend as your whole friend group appears behind her.

“It’s just pure coincidence! I had no idea you were here!” She exclaims, excitedly talking with her hands. Hobie walks up behind you, his hand slipping around your waist. He says nothing, just looks down at your friends. The girl closest to you, Destiny he now knows, is actually roughly his height. She looks at him with a slightly challenging look, putting on a smile that makes his skin itch,

“You must be Hobie.” She says, no hand extend, no positive tone, no nothing. Hobie just nods,

“Mhm.”

“Y/N, do you wanna get a drink with me and the girls? I’m buying!” Another one of your friends pipes up, all of the gang excitedly chatting and pulling you with them—some gawking over your outfits and some over your boyfriend. Hobie’s left standing there, completely stunned. He tongues the inside of his cheek, his eyes rolling back and his hand sliding down his face, a chuckle escaping his lips,

“Ohhh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…”

—

“So like…is it big?” One of your friends asks as your mid sip of your cocktail, nearly choking on it.

“F-Fuck, yes, guys—yes, damn.” You giggle, embarrassed by all the comments and questions asked about your boyfriend. Destiny is awfully quiet, stirring her drink and staring at you with starry eyes. She’s sitting very close to you, her leg against yours. She occasionally will drag her hand up and down your thigh, but for now it just rests idly on top. You don’t think too much of it as she’s often very affectionate, but you do think of Hobie and how that might make him feel.

Oh fuck, where’s Hobie?

You suddenly remember that you left your boyfriend all alone on the dance floor. Your stomach dropped thinking of how that might have made him feel, and your hairs stood up as you thought about what he might do—all jealous. You had never seen Hobie like that, the idea made your thighs squeeze together and tense.

“Nervous?” Destiny asks, her satin voice derailing your train of thought. You notice all the other girls are talking amongst themselves and now Destiny’s full attention is on you,

“About?” You ask, expression innocent and confused. Before she can speak you notice her gaze travel up, smacking her lips after applying her lipgloss and never looking away. You go to turn, but a large and cold hand comes down into your shoulder—Hobie.

“There you are. Havin’ fun with your little friend?” Hobie asks, his voice husky and deep. You shudder, your eyes flickering down to where Destiny’s hand rests on your thigh, softly rubbing the skin there. She doesn’t stop, just holds eye contact with Hobie.

You feel incredibly anxious—caught in between some kind of cat fight between your best friend that obviously has some feelings for you that you weren’t aware of and your jealous boyfriend who looks about ready to jump her.

Instead, Hobie calm and collected grabs your hand and gently helps you up off the bar stool, leading you to the bathroom. Destiny smirks,

“Nice meeting you, Hobart.” She says with mock interest.

“The pleasures all mine.” Hobie quips, not even sparing her another glance as he drags you through the crowd. Your friends at the bar all went silent to watch the show, whispering the moment you were both out of earshot. Hobie opens the one stall restroom, both of you entering as he kick the door shut behind you, locking it without even turning around and instantly, he was all over you. He scooped you up, your ankles around his back as he kissed you all over your neck and but your ear, whispering right into your soul,

“You’re gonna tell me exactly who the fuck that Destiny bird is back there because that was no friendly touching going on.” He grunts, slapping your ass and making you yelp. Hobie sets you down, bending you over the counter and pulling you up by your neck, your back flush against him. You see yourself in the mirror, and you see Hobie. The low lighting in the purple LED lit bathroom makes him look so fucking good—he’s deep gaze in the mirror, his veiny hand over your neck like a necklace and his large frame towering over yours.

“I-I swear I didn’t know it was like that Hobie. She’s always been just a friend.” You admit. It’s the truth, and Hobie believes you. He knows you’d never cheat on him, but God did the idea piss him off. It got under his skin like nothing else. He grunted, his hand sliding up your exposed thigh,

“No one else gets to touch you like this, I thought you knew that.” He says with a sympathetic tone, sighing,

“I guess I have to remind you, hm? Is that how you want it, love?” He smiles, his voice dark and deep. It sends a surge of desire to your pussy, clenching and throbbing. You whimper as his hand trails up and cups your pussy, his large hand on your back and bending you over again. Hobie webs your hands together behind your back, securing them after he asks,

“What’s your color, Y/N?”

“Green…so fucking green.” You murmur, almost positive you’re dripping with arousal by now.

Hobie laughs gently, pulling your dress up to expose your bare ass. He smooths his hands over it, gently caressing. You relax into his touch, getting too comfortable because he soon slaps your ass, causing you to gasp and cry out,

“C’mon, louder f’me love.” He shushes you, kissing right where he spanked you, before slapping the other cheek, reveling in the pretty noises you make.

He spreads your legs, leaning in and burying his face in between your folds. You gasp and cry out,

“Hobie! Hobie ah~!” Your thighs shake around his head as his tongue darts out, lapping up your arousal. Hobie groans at your taste, sucking your pussy and bobbing his head. He can’t get enough of your cunt, worshipping it with his face. He sucks your clit, sliding two fingers into your hole and curling them just the way you like. He’s doing everything in his power to get you as riled up as possible—and it’s working. The small bathroom is filled with the sounds of your pleasure, and you tremble at his tongue,

“Oh~ Hobie, i’m close~” You whimper, his tongue wet and warm on your pulsing clit. He kitten licks you a few more times before completely stopping, pulling away and standing up. You look fucked out already, too needy to even stand up. Hobie smirks at the disappointed look on your face and the way you clench your thighs together.

He’s never edged you before.

“You’re that mad Hobie?” You groan, whimpering and crying because of how much you want to cum. Hobie just sees it as laughable, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down far enough to free his painfully hard cock. He rubs it against you, graining and throwing his head back. You’re both a horny out of your minds, and you’re loud as fuck—everyone even remotely near the bathroom can hear the exact moment that Hobie finally puts it in.

“Oh fuck! Faster, Hobie! Ah~!” You whine and tremble. He’s not holding back, his pace fast and unrelenting. With every drag of him inside you he grunts and hisses. His long fingers trail around your neck and squeeze it just right, pulling you up against him and whispering in your ear,

“Fuck, say that again, baby, say my name. Scream it f’me.” He groans, his hands moving down to cup your breasts. The sound of skin slapping rings like a symphony in your ears, and tears prick in your eyes from the stimulation.

Hobie’s loud and vocal, just the way you like it, and he smirked at every whimper he was able to draw out of you. Your fingers gripped the porcelain sink, your eyes clamped shut—you knew if you looked at Hobie it would be game over and you’d cum instantly. He has this crazed look in his eyes that you’ve never seen, you think it’s the jealousy pumping straight to his cock.

“Open your fucking eyes, Y/N.” He groans, fucking into you impossibly faster. You feel your pussy clench around his Hobie’s cock, and clearly he feels it too, pulling your hips back and grinding them against him. He fucks you with calculated thrusts, hungry for your orgasm,

“Come on love, no one else can fuck you this good yeah?”

“N-no, Hobie!” You moan loudly. His length, all warm soaked, pumps inside you, bringing you right to your orgasm. The sounds you both make are downright sinful and you feel your eyes roll so far back that you sweat you saw your brain.

“S-Shit…Come on, we’re taking this back to mine.” Hobie speaks right into the shell of your ear, his voice an octave lower than the usual and his cock twitching as he pulls out of you, quietly whimpering from the friction. He groans, his pre-cum dripping over your thighs and legs and down to your heels.

“O-Oh, God…Hobie…you’re so messy.” You moan with a slight giggle, the sight and feeling driving you insane. Hobie takes your hand and pulls your up, leading you out of the restroom. You both weave your way through the crowd and you’re positive there’s no way you didn’t smear his cum on some club-goers. You near the exit and lo and behold, Destiny’s there. She’s holding your purse that you had forgotten. When she sees you, shes smiling at first, but the moment she notices the state of you and the semen coating your skin her lips curl in disgust. She hands you your purse and eyes Hobie in disgust, saying nothing. Hobie just chuckles, waving his large hand at her,

“See ya later, ninny.” He spits with a sense of pride. He’s fucked you up this much and he’s not even done with you, plus he got to piss off your touchy friend—it’s a god damn win-win. And holy shit is he going to wreck you when you’re back home. He can barely wait, Hobie grabbing your waist and slinging up into the sky with you,

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, love~”

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x you #hobie spiderverse #spiderman #hobie brown angst #silly’s fics

[setsugekka]

↳ Forever was simple: meet a man you love, and live happily ever after.

A hope built on lies, and when it all comes crashing down, you find a new faith inside of the atrium at the countryside.

painter!lee minho x fem!reader/prince!hwang hyunjin x fem!reader (side pairing) — arranged marriage au, historical au. royalty, slow burn, angst, idiots in love, sexual content. [26k wc] cws: themes of vaguely period-typical sexism, themes of loneliness, (heavy) pining + the poor decisions that sometimes result from that, themes of social anxiety + using alcohol to cope, heavy sexual content.

𝕀.

Everything around you glitters in the ambient light of the evening masquerade ball.

Tables lined with beautiful cloths sit along the edges of the ornate hall, piled high with decorative and delicious foods. Amber, bubbling drinks flow and occasionally spill out of long, crystal glasses held by perfectly manicured hands holding them just a little too excitedly.

The kind of night life that you have grown so accustomed to.

Your dress is stunning and perfectly to your tastes, hair styled to match and draped in decadent jewels to showcase yourself with. The suitors are dressed much in the same, though in far more drab colors as men tend to do. This is of no consequence to you, because your eye is set on only one in particular.

Crown Prince Hwang Hyunjin.

You watch him from across the marbled floor, through groups of guests who might as well not even be present with how rapt your attention is on him. He is tall and broad, far from lanky but toned enough to give the impression of a certain kind of sturdiness that has always edged a particular curiosity in you. Hyunjin's hair is black, tied back from framing his face with its length, and you watch him laugh through conversations with other women who likely desire the same thing as you.

Engaging in private rendezvous with potential suitors is strictly against the royal code, all the more reason that no one must ever find out about the edge above the rest that you have taken for yourself in regards to him.

The memories date back to the summer—winter now—a late night out with other women that you've mostly grown up with and set as your entourage. The first time, running into the royal Hwang entourage without prying eyes to watch you felt like something of a hint, and the second, more of a blessing as the night ended with soft hands against your skin, and plush lips pressed against your own.

These secret encounters carried on through the months, as well as implicit promises in relation to the royal choices soon to be made. Between the sheets and with warm breaths of air exhaled against the shell of your ear, Hyunjin has promised time and time again: "You will be my choice, you have nothing to fear, my love. It's all for show and display, isn't it?"

You believe him.

"Are you going to spend the whole evening in the corner by yourself?" A woman steps up beside you with a knowing grin, and you offer your elbow to her side lightly in response.

"I've no particular interest in showing myself off like some prized cut of meat for men to fawn over, you know this, Sana."

This woman, a friend since your earliest days, looks out across the crowd not unlike yourself just moments before, and then offers yet another smile of understanding before speaking.

"Not for men, perhaps, but for a man," she says. "Are you really so sure that you only carry interest in Crown Prince Hwang? There are so many other perfectly acceptable suitors to choose from."

You sigh, taking a small sip from your glass. "I do not doubt that there are, but when have you ever known me to be the type to spread myself so thin between any such possibilities in life? I have always been something of a single-eyed woman."

"That much I do know, yes," Sana says with a small laugh, "but I don't want you to be left with nothing in the event of things not turning out the way that you wish them to. The Prince has many hopefuls, and while he is the only prince, would it be so bad to consider a life outside of the royal court? You've never much cared for the excessive nature of their goings on, anyway."

Turning to look at her, you cast Sana a questioning glance, "I have grown up in the lap of luxury, it is all that I know, are you to imply a step down is what suits me rather than a step up?"

"I would never, but there are many levels between poverty, and royalty."

"Anything other than a step up, is a step down," you say firmly, pressing the rim of your glass to your painted lip again. Your eyes wander out towards Hyunjin once more, and a slight curve upwards takes them, perhaps some enjoyment in the fact that you know something that even your closest confidants do not. Perhaps some enjoyment in the fact that you have already won a game that the others still insist on competing in. "Besides, do you think not of me as future Queen?"

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing, just remember me and all of our times shared once you begin lobbing off the heads of people who dare to oppose you."

Feigning horror, you reel exaggeratedly, "Now who is assuming things?"

Sana's hand finds the small of your tightly bound back, and lightly pushes you forward.

"Go dance with your future husband, would you?"

𝕀𝕀.

While far from unusual for your nights to end up like this, perhaps after everything that this one has presented, the aura casts something different, something intangible and strange that you can't quite grasp despite its familiarity still.

The masquerade ball winds down three levels from where you reside now. People still dance and laugh and shout amongst themselves, though the largest collective of guests have long since begun their journeys back to their own homes. Your entourage awaits you somewhere outside for much of the same, though they have long since learned not to bother coming and finding you in the event that you have disappeared.

For that, you are thankful, because nothing good can come of being discovered like this.

The room is small—a sitting area with little more than a table, chair, window, and tall bookshelves filled to the brim with just that. Moonlight shines in as the only illumination, faint and appearing cool to the touch if one were able to. Only enough to find one's way, and plenty to remain hidden in the darkness while people engage in their disagreeable deeds.

Lips hurriedly find your own, teeth nipping at them with a needy hunger. Palms graze up the outside of your legs, dress hiked up and leg eventually along with it. The door is pinned shut by your back firmly pressed against it, your head tips back with a small thud, Hyunjin chuckles under his breath at the sound, and then drives his hips forward to give the both of you what it is that you've been waiting all evening for.

"I saw you speaking with Lady Sana this evening," Hyunjin whispers, mouth feathering against your neck. "Am I wrong in suspecting that you were speaking about me?"

He presses himself forward, pulls your body down and against the effort simultaneously, ensuring no space is left between your figures. You gasp at the feeling, and he smiles at the sound, fingernails digging into the flesh of your thighs and hips in places that you don't dare let any of your house staff see.

"You would not be wrong," you reply, forcefully maintaining some semblance of composure. "Only good things, of course."

Chest pinned against your own, Hyunjin pulls back, then presses into you again. The glide is smoother this time, and you can't help the moan that escapes you suddenly.

"Have you told her?" he asks, drives quicker and less shallow than before. "I must announce my decision tomorrow afternoon, not long to wait now."

The ability to converse is leaving you with each steady roll of Hyunjin's hips. Your fingernails grip tightly into his suit jacket, though it grants you little purchase with the smoothness of it. Harder, faster; the tell-tale signs of nefarious activities beginning to be heard in rhythmic fashion against the wood of the door, as well as the explicit, unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin.

"No," you manage to say, though barely, "I would never, would never jeopardize what we have waited so long for."

Hyunjin's lips trail up your neck, along the edge of your jaw and settle lightly against your own. He kisses you gently, then merely sits there to drink down the gasps and whimpers of you accepting him. There is little time for this—something that the both of you know—rolls and snaps of his hips become quick, erratic in order to meet his end, and so he does with the kind of rapidity that leaves you terribly wanting and wishing for more.

There is a parting kiss left to you, and Hyunjin readjusts himself so that he can reemerge into the public. Smoothing your dress and slipping out from the doorway, he cracks it open to leave but looks back at you with a smile that you can only assume to be full of sly adoration for you, and for this. The joys of engaging in such things unbeknownst to others, the excitement of deception.

"A shame that tomorrow we will put an end to this, isn't it?" he says.

A shame indeed, you think to yourself. And then he is gone.

𝕀𝕀𝕀.

Just as you had anticipated it would, the city streets come alive for the naming of the Crown Prince’s companion.

Bodies crowd around you by every inch, music performed with accompanying dancers displaying their crafts as well as shop setups lining the way selling beautiful merchandise; hand crafted with care that shines blindingly under the sunlight above.

As you move along your way, the numerous scents of charred meats and grilled vegetables infiltrate your senses, all encompassing and inviting in a way that makes you almost wish to give up on what it is that you are meant to do today. In order to keep your mind set, you remind yourself that soon you will be at the receiving end of royal chefs and all that it is they have to offer you. There is charm to the street cooks and their home grown and cut ingredients, but nothing matches the knowledge and adeptness of the throne.

You have dressed simply today, not wanting to draw attention to yourself nor wanting to appear expectant. Reaching closer to the stage, the bodies are packed in far more tightly, as do the frequency of other potentials come more into vision. So many women; hair stacked high and curled in such a lovely way, all standing in wait in their best dresses with moderate jewelry. It is cold today, and the lavish, heavy coats that hang around their shoulders allude to as much, but you are warm with a deep understanding of what you are to gain this afternoon.

 A few rows back from the front of the stage, you find Sana as well as another friend shared between the two of you, Tzuyu. A beautiful woman wrapped in dark vermillion red with black hair that hangs so opposingly to Sana's blonde. They both smile and greet you, as do you, to them.

"Are you anticipating the naming as much as the rest of us are?" Tzuyu asks, a bright, cheerfulness to her tone that gives her something of a charmingly juvenile expressiveness. "So many women are here in wait, I do wonder what His Highness has in store for us."

"A difficult choice awaits him, no doubt," Sana adds, glancing up towards the place where he will soon call his decision towards the people. "I question how these sorts of decisions could ever be made through matters of the heart, but I suppose when it comes to royalty, the heart is of the least concern."

Pulling your coat tightly against yourself, you force back the smile that wishes to take your lips. "I trust that he will make the right call, do you not?"

"I'd sooner disappear into the forest, never to be seen again than dare speak ill of the royal house and their choosings," Sana says through a laugh. "Besides, I would be banished to such a place for doing so, anyway."

"You speak in theatrics," Tzuyu scoffs, a roll of her eyes punctuating it. "The rulers of our country are not so sinister."

"One can only hope, but knowledge of the Crown Prince and his ways are not well known to the people, only time will tell if he is as benevolent of a ruler as His and Her Majesty are," Sana says.

You look at her questioningly, "You suspect otherwise?" you ask, but she is quick to shake her head.

"No, but I am realistic in all of the possibilities that lie before us. Quite the contract, in fact, I have heard rather good things."

Sana's tone is peculiar to you in a way that you find difficult to pinpoint as she speaks on the intricacies of Hyunjin's personality. Her face is simplistic enough to not give anything away, but the sound of her voice carries a sort of inflection when referring to him that settles a strangely ire spark within your chest.

You are given no time to question it further, however, because the royal guards set themselves perfectly in place along the stage, and the arrival of the throne is loudly announced from beyond.

His and Her Majesty step forward first, luxuriously sparkling with expensive jewels and fur coats that you would otherwise never hope to afford, not even from your own place of incredibly comfortable class. The two of them settle in the background, and without wasting any further time, the man that you have grown to love and adore enters the stage in long, tall strides that exude confidence and elegance both.

Thankful for your place in the crowd, you gaze up at him and await his eyes to meet your own. A scroll is handed to him by one of the royal staff from just outside of the main stage, and he slowly unfurls it for all waiting eyes to see.

Hyunjin, all white in attire and garnished with a stunning sash that weighs heavily with brooches and sigils, inhales deeply and then looks out towards the crowd. You stare expectantly, because this is your time. So many nights shared hushed and secret between the two of you, discussed between sheets and pillows of just this very moment that will be granted unto you. His eyes do not find yours, but it is of no particular concern to you, as there will be so many more times for adoring moments to be had between the both of you from this day forward.

No more secrets, no more hiding your love for one another.

"Thank you for gathering here today, it is an honor for me to be able to share this with the people of my country. I do not wish to take much of your time, as there are far more convivial activities for you to be partaking in, aren't there?"

Gentle laughter resounds through the crowd, and Hyunjin smiles ever so slightly at the sound of it before glancing down at the paper in hand once again.

"With my greatest pleasure, I will announce to you the future Queen of the Hwang throne…"

Excitement flows through your veins, head light and nearly dizzying as you await the call. You clutch tightly to your robe, knuckles white and forcing your breath steady as the seconds pass by you like decades until the name is called.

A name is called.

"Minatozaki Sana."

A name that does not belong to you.

From just beside you, a shriek falls from Sana's lips but is forced back halfway through, presumably as to not embarrass herself. Tzuyu clutches at the friend’s shoulders and the two of them celebrate with covered mouths, wide eyes, and hushed shock. The world dulls into a kind of unfelt, nonexistent quietness around you as you stare forward and towards this man; this man that you have shared your body and a bed with, so much of your time and trust with.

He has betrayed you.

You can no longer hear the other women around you, shrouded in disbelief as you gawk at him. Something within you wishes to disappear—humiliation beginning to thrum up and across your skin—there is a small token of solace in the fact that no one else knows of your engagements with him prior as it is widely and heavily frowned upon for the both of you, but this knowledge does nothing to ease the pain that swiftly starts to replace all of the other initial feelings that have befallen you in these seconds passing.

The dizziness begins to set in faster and heavier, you realize that you must take your leave now. You take a step backwards, bumping into another saddened hopeful, but don't even have your wits about you enough to apologize for having done so. Sana and Tzuyu grab at you, say something, but you cannot hear it through the thick blanket of betrayal that casts so heavily between you, and them. Perhaps you congratulate her, words leave your lips but you haven't the slightest clue of what they are. Sana is smiling, crying, so perhaps they have been adequate enough.

Another step back, and you look up towards Hyunjin again. This time, his eyes find yours, and all he offers you is the faintest of wicked grins.

You take your leave quietly, without another word. Heart hanging heavily and not allowing him to take the tears from you that he has so evilly and rightfully earned.

𝕀𝕍.

You are not given time to grieve your loss, as if to intentionally add insult to injury.

Unfortunately, your parents can only be as understanding as information granted allows them to be. The first month, you are given space to wade through your reasonable disappointment, but past that point in time, questions of your next potential suitor once again begin to find themselves at the forefront of discussion amongst the dinner table. You did not know this man, I understand your disappointment in not being chosen, but it's high time to look forward and set your sights towards other potentials, your mother says. Royalty is not everything, there are plenty of other perfectly well-to-do men to take your pick from, your father says.

You tell them that you will look, with no intention of truly doing so. Once the second month passes by with little more progress, you begin to find the signs around the house of your parents taking matters into their own hands.

Letters line the desk of your father’s library room, and one in particular causes the hair at the back of your neck to stand on end.

Only partially sticking out from beneath the stack, you just so slightly pull the corner to unearth more of the words that bring a sickness to your stomach. 

"Would be honored to be chosen as your daughter's suitor. The estate is grand and well-kept, though rather empty of life—" the sentence is cut off, you skip to the next area that you can read. "Staff around the clock. Any endeavors she wishes to engage in will be made available—"

The spin inside of your stomach has you reaching forward and clutching at the sides of your father’s desk. It has only been two months, and already there are discussions of having you shipped out and elsewhere, to a strange man that you have never met, and will be expected to placate in all of the ways that one might. While these sorts of scenarios are nothing new to you—the knowledge well known—this was never supposed to be you. No, you were to marry into the royal house, to be made Queen, and having done so through a shared love. 

Not pawned off to a stranger who intends to keep you as a moderately cared for pet. You have heard the stories of other such arrangements before; the best that you can ever hope for is a perfectly tepid and boring man who has no interest in your being there, and has only accepted it for the offerings that such an agreement carries between the families in a monetary and societal sense.

How could your parents do this to you? The truth of the matter, however, is that they do not know the intricacies of what it is that they are doing to you. The details of your prior goings on. They must never know, and god forbid potential suitors were to ever find out about your involvement with the Prince beforehand…shunned and displaced, you will forever remain.

Turning towards the doorway, you begin to take your leave. The wheels are in motion and there is nothing left for you to do. Moving forward, you will await the day that your father comes to you with the news of having come to an agreement with a man for the arrangement of your marriage, and you will grin and bear it as daughters of high class households are told to do. In the meantime, you will hope and pray that the man chosen by your father is a kind one, a simple one. Dull and uninteresting and with only enough attention to give to his own things.

𝕍.

Writing takes you by the soul, and always has for as long as you found yourself able to hold a pen.

Your timing in finding out about your father’s misdoings an impeccable sort, because it is only two days later that he finds you in the large study of your manor and informs you of the news. A decision has been made about your future—one that you have had no part in making—and you will be sent off in two weeks time to the northern countryside to live with a man who he describes as "kind, albeit a little eccentric from what I can gather." The documentation has already been signed, and as far as you are concerned in a legal sense, are now married to someone whose name you do not even know.

"Lee Minho," your father says quietly, and you can't help but wonder if the airiness to his voice is of true sadness in having done this to you, or a feigned one, only given because he believes it to be what you desire of him. "He's a painter, quite gifted. A very well-off man, you shouldn't worry about wanting for anything in the absence of our affluence."

Hand gripping the pen tightly, still pressed hard against the paper, you find yourself indifferent to whether or not he can see the displeasure washing over you.

"Understood, I'll have my belongings packed by the handmaidens in proper time."

Your tone is simple, offering nothing more than the most basic of expressions. He does not reply to you with any sort of swiftness, and instead sighs as he turns to make his exit.

"I'm sorry it had to come down to this," he says suddenly, and with no warning. "As you know, you are coming up on your age and—"

"I know, father," you reply, just as flatly as before and continuing with your work along the page. "It is understood."

He leaves, and your scribbling comes to you with a slightly more erratic speed.

𝕍𝕀.

The goodbyes shared with your family carry little weight, and while there is a large part of you never wishing for this day to have come, there is another area that finds solace in no longer having to live under the roof of people who have done so wrongly by you, and with such great ease.

All you needed was time, and you were not given that. Is it so difficult to carry empathy for people who are hurting? To cast aside asinine traditions of age and worth for the sanctity of caring for those that share blood? 

Sitting in the back of the carriage as it plods along, you stare out of the small window and contemplate just that. What is family, if not the people meant to care for you above all else? Hyunjin betrayed you with a kind of extravagant ease, but your family, he was not. What excuse do your parents have to cast you aside so eagerly? All but sell you off to a man and for no other reason than to maintain social appearances. Yes, my daughter married that famous painter, Lee Minho. How exceptional and prized such a partnership is. 

The journey is a long one, and you hope to have settled in your anger by the time that you arrive. You have no interest in maintaining any sort of exceptional appearances with this man, but perhaps at the very least, he does not need to be on the receiving end of your indignation.

Instead, you fantasize about the perfect life you may be able to cultivate upon your arrival. Perhaps there are perks to him being involved in such a solitary way of life; you imagine two sides of the same mansion, one for you, and one for him. The painter and the writer, and never shall they meet.

𝕍𝕀𝕀.

Nighttime falls upon the land before you make your arrival, and late into the evening do you come. 

The estate is seen long before you come upon it, with a handful of lights standing out against the otherwise stark darkness of the countryside surroundings. You recall a mention of the home being relatively lifeless, and so few lights on inside certainly give truth to that. Barren trees line the street and as far as the eye can see given how deeply into winter it still is. There is little snow piled up into little hills along the ground, but it is impossible to see the vastness of the land without proper daylight to guide you.

When you arrive, a handful of house staff are there to greet you. Three women smile and bow, help you out of the carriage and then move along to retrieve your things. One remains with you, and you pull your jacket tighter so as to not allow the frigid air to touch you.

"It is much colder in the countryside than what you are used to," she says gently. "You'll get used to it in due time, but it can be frightening at first."

You glance at her, though not for long. It feels strange to be attended to by staff other than those that you are used to being handled by. This strange woman—older but softer in demeanor—smooths a hand down your arm with little more than a feather-light touch, and then offers you a slight yet understanding smile.

"My name is Mai, I am the head of the housing staff, you'll be seeing me around quite often, so I hope that we can grow comfortable with one another quickly. I understand that this is difficult for you, and strange, so please take your time. There's no rush to become acquainted with myself or the estate grounds."

It's only then that you come to realize the stark lacking of someone else's attendance to your arrival. You glance around slightly, perhaps you have missed him? But there are no men, and so, you ask the question, "What about Mr. Lee?"

Mai's features drop ever so slightly, like she feels some level of sympathy for you. Her hand smooths over your arm again, then gently tugs you towards the large doorway.

"The Master of the house will seldom make himself known, I wouldn't worry too much about that, dear."

"He didn't even come to welcome me, a strange sort of fellow to not bother greeting his wife upon her arrival," you say pointedly. It garners another, particular sort of look from the woman bringing you inside.

"Yes, the Master has been referred to as strange before, this would not be the first time. Please don't take it personally, or as some sort of slight towards you individually. I'm sure that given enough time, the two of you should meet and become acquainted with one another."

You chuckle under your breath, "Husband and wife, acquainted with one another. What have my parents done."

Though your wish upon arriving has ultimately come true, you sift through the confusion in your feelings regarding Minho's disinterest in finding you. The woman that he has taken into his home, agreed to marry, surely expected to have children with—yet with no apparent interest in your being there whatsoever. Stepping inside of the home, it shines and exudes beauty, almost like a museum. Pieces of painted art and statues sit at every inch, as far as the eye can see, but all you can think about is the absence of the man who has beckoned you here.

"I apologize for the darkness of the estate, as you know, it's quite late. I hope that you will take it upon yourself to wander tomorrow during the day. Everything is yours, please make yourself at home." Mai extends a hand forward and towards the large staircase, then points upwards at the centered emptiness created by the winding steps. "At the highest level is the atrium, the only place that is strictly off limits. The Master does most of his work up there, though it's difficult to simply stumble upon, no cause for concern as far as that goes."

Continuing to gaze up at what feels like forever, you slowly bring your attention back down and then fully towards Mai.

"Why has he brought me here?" you ask.

A single corner of her mouth perks, as if contemplating offering a smile that may or may not be apt. Besides that, however, the only expression of feeling you can find amongst her features is that of compassion, and perhaps, maybe even pity.

"As you know, these sorts of things tend to be about maintaining appearances…" Mai trails off, likely on account of having nothing more to add to the fact. It is plenty enough, and indeed, you are very well aware.

"I'd like to be taken to my room now."

There's a hazy numbness that finds your limbs as the staff take your things and begin moving towards the stairs. This is your new life, your new normal for the rest of your life. A loveless existence, a loveless marriage with a man that you will scarcely meet. You wonder, albeit briefly, what you have done to doom your existence to that of such fleeting tenderness. 

Hyunjin did not love you, but he was willing to pretend, and while your body was beneath his, you could so easily believe it.

Minho does not love you, and will not even grant you as much. No willingness to try, no interest in feigning the possibility of as much. You are not so foolish to expect to fall in love with this man, but is it so wrong to wish for moments that offer themselves to the fleeting fantasy of it? Infrequent dinners, shared glances from down the hall, and if all goes well, even a kind of friendship developed amongst incapable lovers.

Your bedroom is stunning and immaculately decorated. Mai informs you that anything that you wish to have added or removed is yours to have, and that she will see to it being done swiftly. The walls are lined in a dark, royal blue and accented at the corners with incredible, gold fillings that make the estate feel more like a castle than a simple home for only one man and his house staff. 

The thought is appreciated, but you truly cannot fathom wanting for more, not in the physical sense of owning and acquiring physical things. The emptiness inside of you is so much heavier and deeper than the shade of the walls, or the perfectly waxed oak of the floors.

"Thank you," you say. The words are small, and sound far more defeated than you would like them to. Mai is heavenly, everything that you could ever want from someone that you're likely to be spending the majority of your time here with. "What time shall I come down for breakfast in the morning?"

Mai smiles in the doorway, her light gray dress swaying with every slight movement that she makes.

"Eight is standard for the house, but whenever you prefer. If you are an early riser, we can see to it that it is ready and waiting for you by the time you find your footing."

You glance at your handbag, manuscript of your writing sticking out by the corner from it and make your decision going forward.

"I am something of an early morning type. I like to write, I find that I do my best work before the rest of the world begins to stir," you say, forcing a small smile into your lips. "I don't require much, especially just for one person. Just some small breads with butter and coffee will suit me just fine."

Mai nods happily, so obviously delighted by your willingness to allow her to do what she does here. "Of course, anything you wish. If you need anything else in the morning, please don't hesitate to inform any of the staff, we want to make your transition here as smooth and seamless as possible."

"Thank you," you say again, and Mai takes her leave.

Sleep does not find you well that night, despite the weariness of your body from the travel. Instead, your mind races with possibility and wonder about the ghost that you now share a home with, and when you finally do find rest, all that is there to greet you now is the dark, faceless silhouette of a man that you may never come to meet.

𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀.

Time at the estate feels as though it crawls, and yet slips away and through your fingers in ways that make it feel as though it doesn't really exist at all.

Another month passes you by, a new routine set into motion not unlike yours from back home. Different settings, different foods offered; scents that arrive to you like they are foreign and fabrics against your skin that feel entirely different from that which you have become accustomed to. Life here is easy, and for that, you are thankful, but the dull ache of listlessness begins to take hold of you faster than you might have anticipated it to, and your curiosities about the manor creep up and make themselves known to you without much of an ability left in you to fight them off.

You have yet to meet Minho, even in all of your time here. A month is not long to spend in one place, but feels like a lifetime to not have met the person that you live with, the man that you are married to and meant to spend the rest of your days alongside.

Writing, at the very least, comes to you with incredible ease while cased inside of these walls. Your manuscript—a sort of anonymous autobiography of your life—grows and grows like it is showered with all of the sunlight and nutrients of a lovingly kept garden. There is nothing else for you to do here, after all.

These routines come to you naturally, not one to stray from those things that come naturally and comfortably to you. In the mornings, you wake early to head downstairs to eat warm, buttered bread and take your cup of coffee; leaving towards the large study that sits looking off into the flowerbeds with a large, never dirtied window to grant you such a view.

Books surround here, as do their smells. You could never hope to read them all, though you might like to. When particularly down about your circumstances, you consider the fact that you have ample time to begin such an endeavor, as nothing else inside of this building will ever bother to ask for time from you.

One day after the mark of a month from your arrival, you stay up a little later than usual and slowly sip an aged, red wine from the shined lip of a glass. Your nighttime gown already drapes from your body, but you have no such intention of finding sleep any time soon.

For one reason or another, the atrium calls to you silently in the ambient darkness of the house.

The house staff is long asleep, nobody lurking the corridors to ensure that the inhabitants are not allowing the whimsy of curiosity to get the best of them. You step out and into the hallway, small candles lining the way and towards the stairs that lead further up, guiding lights beckoning you, asking you to follow them, telling you to take liberties not truly afforded to you.

So you do. Up so many flights, a climb that feels endless at points, until of course, you reach the top. 

Perhaps you had expected too much, built up the possibilities so much in your mind that whatever it is that you might find here never standing a chance in living up to your imagination. There is little that greets you once you climb the last step; no warning signs, no guards or traps set for intruders stumbling upon this place. Instead, you find an incomprehensible mess along the large and wide expanse of floor. Canvases sprawled as far as the eye can see—some still basking in their unmarred perfection, others splashed with color or linework—paint pots and filthy brushes, palettes that appear as though they've never seen the loving touch of water to clean them.

Furthest away from where you stand, you find a table and a single chair, though it would not seem to be used for its intended purpose with the way items have been set against and atop them. There are papers sitting on the wood, however, and your budding curiosity gets the best of you even more as you carefully step forward and over all of the belongings that coat the floor.

The floor beneath you is sturdy, and for that, you are thankful. There are no creaks of footsteps to alert anyone of your presence here, and when you arrive at the table, you find piles upon piles of letters pinned down beneath dirty, likely forgotten jars of water.

The penmanship of one draws your attention, familiar and loud as it stares back at you. It is from your father.

This date is recent, one of the few things that you can make out from where it sits. You care little for maintaining your invisibility here now, and pull the sheet out from within the others so that you can read it in full.

You realize quickly upon scanning it that you did not know what to expect, but what it is that you have found now somehow sits even more strangely in your chest. Your eyebrows furrow as you take in the words from your father—they are nonsensical in every sense of the word—incomprehensible when paired with the realism of your life at this place.

One part reads: I am happy to hear that the two of you are getting along so splendidly. Of course, it is impossible to say when putting together such matters, but I had something of a feeling that it would be right, and I am so blessed to find that this meeting has been a successful one.

He has been lying to your father ever since your arrival here.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Your attention shoots up from the letter, which drops from your hand on account of the shock in being found. What jars you from your thoughts much more than having been caught, however, is not that fact in and of itself. Rather, it is the fact that it is the voice of a man that has questioned you.

And looking up from here, back towards the stairs, the moonlight shines in from the glass ceiling panels of the atrium, down onto the face of a man with somewhat long and relatively unkempt black hair that curtains in front of his eyes delicately. His jaw is strong, sharp; outlining narrow eyes and lips that settle into a somewhat upturned position when not forced into another shape.

Could it be…?

You do not respond right away, and neither does he press you further for a reply. Instead, the man carries himself forward and kneels down in front of a particular pile of painting supplies. Perhaps you hadn't taken careful enough notice of them, the way that the paint is still fresh and wet, now that you look at it.

His shirt is white, sleeves rolled up along his forearms and cuffed carelessly at the bend of his elbow. He appears strong, not at all the dainty, frail image of an artist type that one might typically assume someone like this to be. Somewhere within you swims the possibility that this is not the man that you are married to, merely some other person who also is granted the ability to use the atrium for its assigned purpose, but the thought seems asinine with the evidence presented in front of you.

He grabs a brush, takes a palette into hand and dips the bristles into something dark. One stroke, then another onto a canvas that has already been seen by his hand previously. He ignores you for many long moments, and as a result, you merely stand there in silence and watch as he continues on.

The brush dips into a jar of water, swirled around and faintly clinking against the glass. Then, the man looks up at you again.

"Is there?"

Forgetting that there has ever been a question posed, your mind races to catch up to what it is that he's asking. Nervousness catches your limbs, not knowing what to do with your hands, your feet, the expression on your face when suddenly and finally addressed. 

But you have no interest in answering his inquiry, and instead, pose one of your own.

"Why have you been lying to my father?"

"Ah," he says, the sound quiet and coming out with a knowing exhale. His attention drops back to the canvas and colors in front of him. "Do you make it a habit of reading other people's mail, then?"

"We've not even met once since I moved here, yet you're telling my father that we're getting along swimmingly, why?"

"Are we not?" Minho says, his engagement in the discussion confirmation enough of the fact that this is him. "No arguments, no raised tones or names called. As far as I'm concerned, we're getting along as well as one might hope, all things considered."

"We have never even met!" you nearly yell, dropping your volume at the tail end with the way that you know voice carries through the halls of the estate. This is a discussion meant for the two of you alone. "The least you could do after all of this time is introduce yourself to me, especially if you're going to be lying to my parents about the goings on out here!"

Minho looks up at you then, but his face is empty of feeling. "This is why I thought it best that we not meet, now I have to tell him that things have taken a turn," he says.

His face does not allude to it, but his tone very much does in the way that the faintest hint of amusement can be discerned throughout his words. Hearing such coyness does nothing to calm your growing resentment towards him, if anything, only adding fuel to the budding fire.

"Do you think this is funny?" you ask, anger laden in your voice. "Is that why you brought me out here? For your amusement, so that you could laugh to yourself in the late hours of the night about the woman that you're keeping holed up while I rot away inside of these walls and lament what my life might have been if my father had only allowed me a little more time?"

Stare unwavering, your eyes remain locked onto Minho's once you finish speaking, and he is not quick to reply in any fashion. Silence slips in between the two of you, only the faintest ticking of an old, antique clock stationed off to the side heard between the nothingness growing inside of the atrium.

Then, he sighs.

"I brought you out here because of the nature of our society and the expectation of certain norms therein. You know this as well as I do, what is expected of us by certain ages. Unfortunately for you, both of our time is nearly up and as a result, this is how fate would have it."

He explains it so matter of factly that the entire concept of these arrangements feels strange and foreign to you, despite its familiarity. Minho is right, and what he says to you is true, but it does little to make you feel calm in the matter. He offers you no comfort, no easiness or soft words to sort any pain that you may be feeling as a result of it. Perfunctory in delivery, Minho only gives to you precisely what it is that the two of you already know; nothing more, and nothing less.

You know this, but the dull ache of pain inside of your chest does not wane. It grows instead, so much so that you find yourself losing the ability to maintain disdain for him, or the fact that he brought you here, at all.

"Did you reach out to my father, or did he call out to you?" you ask, voice timid and broken. The details of the arrangement are of little consequence now, but you find yourself questioning it all the same. Perhaps they have only both ended up here by chance, and if so, is that the best possible outcome of all?

Lips thinning straight, it's a sort of forced smile that barely ever comes through, and Minho breaks eye contact once you present the question to him like he is aware that nothing he has to offer you will ever be enough.

The brush handle rattles against the glass once again, the sound sharp and jarring, bothersome to your ears now.

"He reached out to me," Minho says plainly, "and for that, you have my condolences."

𝕀𝕏.

Two weeks go by without so much as a sighting of the man that lives among you. In that time, however, a letter finds you from your mother. Late in the morning on a particularly dreary day, Mai comes to you in your study and hands off the envelope with a gleeful smile, seemingly thrilled to be offering you something instead of your husband.

"I was hoping that they would write to you soon," she says. "The early stages still require much conversing between the Master and your parents, but it's good that they have found the time to reach out to you now, as well."

"Yes, very good," you reply, forcing the sound of pleasantness through the words. You wonder if she knows about your meeting with Minho not so long ago, if she has been informed of your snooping and the knowledge you gained therein. "Thank you, I'll read it quickly."

Mai takes her leave and you are once again left to your things. Your finger slides beneath the flap of the envelope and pulls the seal apart, nimbly releasing the letter inside from its confines. Heart beating rapidly and not knowing what you will find, you attempt to steady your anxiety and land your eyes onto the page.

The words penned across it are happy ones, and that shifts your nerves at a sudden pace. She expresses her joy at all of the things your father has informed her in regards to his constant speaking with Minho; how well things have been going between the two of you, how worried she had been at the possibility of otherwise, and how proud she is of you. The words feel empty and as if they are not meant for you—how could they be? There is no truth held inside of any of it.

Once finished, you slip the letter back inside and tuck it away beneath your manuscript, opting instead to turn your attention towards the garden that awaits you just through the dampened window. Rain lightly pelts it, a calming sound that is very much needed in the aftermath of this reminder. 

Recalling your conversation with Minho in the atrium, you hone in on the specifics of it now. In particular, his stoic interpretation of this combination between the two of you. It was not he who intended to seek you out, and rather, the both of you share the difficulties of age and societal expectations that have been casted upon you at birth. A loveless marriage it is, convenience, even; but circumstances that the both of you are flattened beneath the pressure of.

You had once wished for him to be a man with no interest in you, and that is precisely what you have been graced with. Minho does not care for your presence, does not wish to spend time with you or converse with you in any way that people who share a home tend to do. This is what you had wanted for, so then why now does it feel so rotten to be on the receiving end of it?

A flash of lightning in the far off distance comes to pass, and it is at that moment that you come to your decision: you will make your way to the atrium once more.

𝕏.

Shadows flicker and dance across the darkness of the walls and bookcases lining the crescent shaped sides of the atrium, seen long before you reach the topmost step. There is no sound besides faint rustling, and the occasional, familiar clinking of wooden stick against glass rim.

Minho is there.

You reach the top and find him; on his knees and hunched over not unlike your last meeting in this place. His shoulders and back flex against the tightness of the white blouse that holds him, deceptively firm muscles that you are only now able to see from this angle. He stills briefly, silent acknowledgment of his knowing that you are there, but carries on with his task for a while before bothering to utter a word.

"You shouldn't be up here."

An expected warning, but it does little to deter you. Instead of turning back, you continue forward, towards him, and stop only a few more strides away. Distance given out of the goodness of your heart, and because you accept wrongdoing in ever having come here in the first place.

"Why?" you ask.

With busy hands, Minho remains fast at work, splashing blues, pinks and purples across the white canvas. His features do not twist or contort in any sort of way that one might expect from tortured artists who suffer at the hands of their crafts. Quite the contrary; he appears at ease, calm and collected in this place that is meant only for him and the creations that pour from his skilled fingers.

"For no other reason than it being my working space, and working spaces must be maintained as such." He pauses finally, drops the bush into the water sitting just beside and then looks up at you through messy, loose strands of black hair. "It is no place for conversing, especially if you wish to fight with me like before."

The reluctance in his voice, almost pained in the way that he says it, has your eyebrows pressing together with rather intense confusion. While it is true that you had been far from pleased with the discoveries made the first time you made your way up here, to call it something of a fight feels rather excessive to you, in hindsight.

"I wouldn't say that we fought, can you blame me for feeling the way that I had felt then?"

"Not at all," he admits with ease, "but you shouldn't go through my things, and you shouldn't raise your voice at me in regards to matters that are just as much out of my control as they are your own."

That rubs you wrongly, and your eyes narrow as a result of it. "They are not equally out of our control. You desired a woman to live idly in your home and that is what you received. I desired only the smallest allowance of time in order to get my surroundings back on track, and in the end, what I received was nothing more than being the aforementioned idle woman."

Minho sighs heavily, then turns back to the canvas in front of him. "How many times must I apologize for that? It's not as if I had known when the inquiry was sent to me that you would be so displeased. Is it not enough that I do not force you to engage with me?"

"That's not—"

"I ask nothing of you," Minho continues, a newfound pointedness to his voice. "I do not request your company in any capacity, no expectation of you to entertain me in any way. I do not bother you, I do my best to stay out of your way. Anything you desire, it's yours. Money, gifts, luxury cloths or even the most expensive art pieces from all across the globe…any of it can be yours, should it suit you."

His voice wavers as he reaches the tail end of his words, and the weight of it hangs heavy on your heart. Minho sounds sad, defeated in a battle that he hadn't even bothered to take on. 

Then, he looks up towards you again. 

"If a lover is what you wish to have, you may take one. I understand the difficulty in meeting people so far out in the countryside, but I'll see to it that the staff will accommodate your needs in any way."

Once he finishes, you stand silently just off and to the side of him. Your stares towards one another rest in the balance, you anticipate him saying more, but the words never come.

You frown at him, just slightly.

"What do you know about me?" you ask.

The question seems to take him aback, eyes widening slightly at the suddenness of it being presented towards him. His eyes fall from yours then, cast around the floor between you as if the answers sprawled out somewhere there. Eventually, he accepts his fate, and looks back up towards you.

"I…I don't know. Nothing, I suppose. Not beyond what your father has told me throughout our correspondence."

"My father knows nothing about me, not beyond the perfected image of daughterhood that I am expected to present. You know all about expectations, don't you, Mr. Lee?"

His watching you continues, but no words dare to be uttered by the man.

"Perhaps instead of holing yourself up here your whole life, you come down and do what is expected of you." Turning back towards the stairs that brought you here, you begin your descent down—one, two—and then pause to turn back for your final parting words.

"A man is expected to be seen by his wife, is he not? To talk to her, to know things about her, to learn. More than that, a husband is expected to do all of that, and even more. I refuse to allow you to use my invisible presence here as nothing more than a story that you can tell people while you're away presenting your art pieces. You wanted me here, and so I am. You will have to do better, because I have nothing left to lose, and the humiliation of returning home from a failed marriage is a far cry from the things I have already endured."

Minho does not reply.

𝕏𝕀.

The next morning, just as any other, you maintain your routines.

Exiting your bedroom, your feet pad along the floor one after another—simple slippers that adorn them, keeping your toes warm—the sound of it is one that you have now grown accustomed to, the echo as it carries through the emptiness of the estate.

Thankfully, as you draw nearer to the lowest level and towards the kitchen, the gentle music of other inhabitants fondly make themselves known to you. Scents mix in as well, cinnamon and coffee and vanilla all whirled together in the air that you can't help but find peace amongst it all. When you enter, you are greeted brightly by Mai, as well as the other housekeepers lending their hands to ensure a seamlessly run ship.

You offer your thanks, and head along your way towards the study. The door hangs ajar, just as you always leave it. No concern for whether or not Minho will make his way down and curiosity will get the best of him upon catching sight of your belongings; a man who has made it more than clear that he holds no such fascination in you.

The large seat situated in front of the window awaits you. Today is sunny, the short rain that tells a tale of spring soon to come, having since passed during the nighttime and bringing after its having gone bright skies and pristine white clouds. A good day, a nice day. You sit, opening the drawer inside of the desk and pulling from it the notebook that holds your manuscript. So many years of work, so personal and encompassing everything that makes you. 

With your back towards the door, you only vaguely hear the sounds of Mai's hushed utterance from just within the kitchen. Some exclamation of surprise, though it disappears with the same swiftness that it seems to have caught her. Perhaps a bug, or a misplaced knife settled within the wrong drawer—anything could be the case—and for that very reason, you brush it off and focus instead on the pen and paper before you.

Then, there's a knock at the wood of your door.

"Yes?" you call back out at it, unsure of what the housekeepers could be wanting from you. Your typical routine with them has been more or less concluded, no obvious reason for anyone to be looking for you now. "I've not finished with my first coffee yet, I'll come when I have, you need not wait on me and worry yourselves sick."

"Does the Lady of the house have a moment of her time to spare?"

Before you can so much as fathom it, your body whips around and you nearly wholly twist in your chair to look back at the place that the masculine voice has come.

As if what awaits you there could be anything else, anyone else; Minho stands in the small crack of the doorway, barely enough for him to fit half of his body through. He does not dare attempt it, waiting outside for your word of affirmation. His face is downcast, looking up through eyelashes at you like he is doing something entirely wrong of the both of you. Anticipating being turned away, expecting to be berated for having the gall to make such a brave attempt.

"Y-yes, of course, come in!" you reply, biting back the eagerness in your tone at the end of the sentence. Suddenly, you become painfully aware of the space around you and how unkempt you have allowed it to be. "I apologize, it's something of a mess. I only come in here to do some small tasks to keep myself busy and then I leave so I don't think much of keeping it tidy."

Minho steps inside, though the effort is barely there. Two steps into the room, and then he stops; looks around it like he has never been here before. Eventually, you come to understand that he is not so much looking at the things he keeps and rather, that he is avoiding eyes that belong to you.

"It is yours, you may keep it as you wish," he says. His hands dance between being cradled in front of himself, to similarly behind his back. Forward again, thumbs craned into his pockets, then out and to his sides—strangely, uncomfortably. He does not know what to do with them. "I apologize for intruding on your time like this, I—" he pauses, stops looking around once he realizes he has seen all that there is to see, and then has no other option than to look at you. This action is short lived, however, eyes quickly falling to the wood beneath his feet. "I believe that you were correct last night, in your assessment of me and our arrangement. For that reason, I want to make an effort. I want to…do what is expected of me."

Silence blankets the room, his eyes cast upwards again; "If that's all right, of course."

"Yes, yes of course it's…what I would prefer, I think." Once again, excitement that betrays your unwillingness to give too much, too fast. Even if he weren't looking at you, the glee would be heard in your voice. "At the very least, an effort made to get to know one another on a more personal basis. We may never fall in love, may never become lovers…it's impossible to say if we will ever even become friends, but I think it best for the both of us if there is some level of acquaintanceship here."

Minho nods once, swallowing so hard and through a throat so dry that you swear you can hear it. "Understood. Though I must say, I do…" he trails off in thought, returns to it only moments later, "I still intend to spend the majority of my time in the atrium, for work. I must insist that even with our new arrangement, you do not come up there. I will instead…make myself more common down here, or if you request my presence—not that I suspect you will—please inform Mai, and she will retrieve me."

"I accept these terms, but in the inception of such, it is only fair that I forge those of my own."

Eyes widening in shock, Minho seems surprised by your candor. Though you do not know him well, one thing you are thankful for is his seeming unwillingness to abide by much of the traditional social construct that exists around the expectations of the way that men and women are meant to engage with one another. You speak loudly and brashly with Minho, a man that you barely know, and he accepts as much with grace. When he wishes for you to not engage with him in such ways, he calmly asks it of you, rather than demands it through authoritarian fear.

When you wish to push back, he takes a step backwards of his own in order to grant you the space to do so.

"That indeed is fair," Minho agrees, a barely-there smile curving into the corners of his lips. "What does the Lady seek?"

"We have a meal together, most days. Breakfast or dinner, it is of no particular consequence to me. I do not know if you prefer the morning or evening hours, but based on your artistic habits and the dark circling beneath your eyes currently, one can only assume that breakfast is out of the question."

Your own smile perks up, and along with it, Minho's widens. He turns his head, looks over in an attempt to find the nearest reflective surface. Only a silver vase, his face coming out all wobbly and distorted as he looks at himself against it. The truth of your words is still found, however.

"I accept," he says. "Dinner. Let's have dinner together tonight."

You grant him a nod, and he cumbersomely turns towards the door to take his leave.

"One more thing," he adds, paused perfectly within the doorframe but choosing not to look back at you. "Perhaps we should…prepare for the conversations that will be had. It would be awfully unfortunate to waste our time together among the dead of an otherwise quiet night."

Charmed in all of the most fascinating and incomprehensible ways, you see straight through the veil that Minho has attempted to hold up. A million questions run through your mind already; regarding him, this estate, his work, where he has been, and you cannot fathom the possibility of him not experiencing the same. Rather, the second likelihood swims within your thoughts, humorously intriguing, and serving as the catalyst for your ability to begin putting the pieces of him together into something far more recognizable.

Lee Minho is reserved. Locked away in the countryside and borderline cripplingly timid in the face of anything new and not easily understood—made sense by the dabbing of colored paints onto a canvas, dragged and splotched into something that his eye can really and truly see.

Later that evening, Mai and her staff spend far more time and effort preparing a meal than is truly necessary. You worry to yourself slightly watching the lot of them hustle about—there are only two of you, after all—but Mai insists each and every time that she finds the concern spread across your features that she is actually quite thrilled to be doing something such as this for once.

"The Master does not have company often, and for that reason, does not frequently take a proper meal in the evenings," she says, delight dripping from her voice.

Comically to you, however, is the fact that Minho is here and seated at the table across from you already; spoken about as if he is not even in the room. You look him over when Mai admits as much and his features pan, somewhat pained by the truth of it all, you suppose.

"I'm busy in the evenings, more often than not, you are well aware of this, Mai."

"That's no reason not to allow us to have some fun in this kitchen." Her fists ball up at the tops of her hips, and then a handful of other staff begin making their way over to set dishes atop the table.

"You shouldn't say it like I don't permit you to do so," Minho says. He glances up at you briefly, as if to gauge how you're taking all of this. Worried you might think him to be an evil ruler of the manor. "You can, it's just—"

"Wasteful!" Mai finishes with a knowing nod, and then disappears from your side of the table altogether. Her next words are spoken from quite a ways away, down the hall and out of the dining area. "Enjoy your meal! Call for us if you need anything!" she says.

And then the room is silent.

The smells of roasted chicken and glazed vegetables quickly beckon your attention. Buttered dinner rolls in wicker baskets and already poured glasses of wine await each of you. The serving of food has already been completed, your plate piled high with items that drown in delicious looking gravy and topped with garnishes. 

You reach towards your wine glass, and make short eye contact with Minho along the way.

He clears his throat, shuffles uncomfortably in his seat after it, and then picks up his eating utensils.

"Some men," he starts, then waits, like he isn't sure that it's so much of a good idea, "some men can be strange about the types of food, or the amount, that their wives eat."

You continue staring at him, because what is the point of this?

Minho reaches for his glass, takes a large sip from it. "Uhh, I'm not like those men, so please, have your fill."

"Are you informing me that I am permitted to not go hungry for appearances?" you ask flatly.

"I—" he begins, short and cut off, not sure where to go from here. "Yes, I suppose that I am. I just wanted to be clear, in case there was cause for concern."

"With all due respect," you say through a light chuckle, "we're in the middle of nowhere, and I've not left the estate since I came. Who am I really intending to impress?"

Minho does not respond to that. He seems to be willing to relent to the conversation at just about any turn, which amuses and also confuses you. Watching him, he cuts into a piece of potato and carefully puts the chunk between slightly crooked, off kilter front teeth. Sort of charming, one of those quirks about a person's appearance that grows on you over time.

He looks up at you suddenly, then takes another sip of the wine.

"What do you do here? How do you spend your days?"

That is unexpected, though you can't quite pinpoint why. Perhaps it is the brashness of finally asking something so quizzical, so personal; a true attempt at learning something about you in a way not before seen or expressed by him. You do not answer right away, nor does he press further. Only the scraping of silverware against fine porcelain is heard throughout the space for entirely too long.

Might he think you strange for your habits? Is he someone safe to tell?

It's worth the chance, and you will yourself to be unbothered by any negative reaction that he may have.

"I…um, I'm writing a book," you say, steadying the tremble that punctures the words, "I do a lot of writing. In the mornings I wake up early, have my breakfast, and then I write in the study by the garden."

You remain nervous about Minho's reaction, but for no discernible reason you come to find. His eyebrows perk up, attention rapt by what it is that you've said. "A book? That's quite impressive, how long have you been working on it?"

"Oh, many years." Stumbling through the strangeness of his sudden exhilaration, you attempt to maintain your composure. "It is something of a memoir, so I have been collecting moments of my life for as long as I can remember."

Minho shakes his head, evidently stunned by such a possibility. "Writing is such a magnificent craft, everyday I wish that the gift of language and written word is the one that had come to find my hands."

"Painting is an incredible art, so few people are creatively capable of mastering the concepts of color or line like you have. Anyone literate can write a sentence."

Minho looks up and the two of you meet glances. It is a moment shared between people who have a newfound understanding amongst one another, and as a result, it feels special; magical. He smiles slightly, and you can't help but match it, too.

"Well, anyone can scribble color onto a canvas, but I think we both know well enough that there is much more that goes into the arts than that," Minho says, a newfound casualness that you feel as though you have only just unlocked to his tone. "Are you looking to publish someday?"

"I think I might like to, if the opportunity were to arise." You stop, reconsider the content therein, and correct for that. "Anonymously, or under a penname. Not my own."

He nods in acceptance of that, then takes another bite of food with his vision cast down towards the plate. In times like this, Minho reminds you of a small child, poorly socialized and unsure of how to move about the world with other people in it. He tries his best, has only the best of intentions, but it never quite feels as though it's enough.

Little by little, you're peeling through those layers. All things considered, so far, the journey isn't half bad.

"I'm pleased that we've decided to do this," Minho says, focused solely on pushing the broccoli around on his plate idly. "Spend time together, I mean. Getting to know one another."

Thus far, perhaps there is a part of you that cannot help but agree.

𝕏𝕀𝕀.

New routines unearth themselves throughout the estate.

Spring washes over the land in waves; flowers in their fullest blossom, live with color and birds that joyously scour the land for new perches to rest their tired wings atop. The trees fill in once more with lush greens and fruits that begin to fill in along the firm branches.

Minho makes himself more often seen throughout the manor corridors, though often brief and insistent on his having some other place to be. You learn not to take it to heart—his insistence in giving himself an out of the conversation—as it would seem that conversation with others is not a skill that comes naturally to him.

Still, you appreciate the effort. Some mornings, Minho slinks down the stairway and into the kitchen, long before his usual rising hours, and asks you about the agenda for your day. You often do not have much to offer him, but Minho watches on as you fill him in with his chin cradled in his hands and eyes that sparkle under the barely breaking dawn that washes in from the windows. He always smiles; somewhat crooked, with one side pulling ever so slightly higher than the other. It isn't a lot, but for now, it will do.

The month is April, and out of the study window you find Minho tending to the garden.

The outside grounds are not well traveled by you, partially on account of arriving to the countryside in the dead of winter. Now that the breezes have warmed and the snow has melted, it's as fine a time as any, and you carry yourself off towards the side door in the kitchen to take your first few steps into the garden that you have adoringly watched all of these months.

"Decided not to keep yourself cooped up in there, did you?" Minho asks playfully, only briefly glancing up towards you from his bent and knelt position in the turned soil. His hands are dirty—no gloves to be seen—but his forearms flex and pulse with strength as he rips at weeds and digs his holes. "People are going to start to think I don't permit you to leave."

"People? What people?" you reply. "Even my own parents have grown bored of writing to me. I don't think you live in any fear of what the people might think. Perhaps they assume that we are wildly happy together, no interest in sharing that with the rest of the unworthy world."

"Aren't we?" Minho says, chuckling lightly. 

You make an effort to ignore the question, as well as the way his muscles all appear taut and well attended to beneath his moistened white shirt. Minho is a good looking man, in ways that are a little surprising to you and even in spite of his lack of social character, but even as your husband, he is a stranger. A man that you now live with because it is nothing more than convenient for the both of you, not someone to be lusted after.

Hyunjin comes to mind suddenly. Every time you find yourself missing the touch of a man, it's him that torments you still.

"Of course." You make an effort to ignore the thoughts, and change the subject. "I didn't know you had an interest in gardening. Perhaps I wrongfully assumed it to be something kept up with by the staff."

"Wrong indeed," he says, wiping at his forehead with the rolled up sleeve of his shirt. His skin glistens under the spring sunlight, hair collecting the moisture of his face within its strands. 

You are only lusting after him in this way because you wish to be touched by a man again, you barely even know him, you reason. Some reason.

"It's something I picked up a good many years back, when I was shoved deeply into the success of my career. I spent even more time locked away with my work and my paintings, if you could even believe it," Minho says, smiling at himself at the memory of it all. "So, I had to find a reason to get out of the house. Not too far, or for too long, but something. Additionally, I enjoy the act of creation…" he pauses, picks up a small vegetable bulb and holds it up for you to look at. "What's more creative than life?"

You smile, wide and with teeth in a way that you don't remember having done in such a long, long time. Minho laughs at your reaction, and then carries on burying the plant into the ground as originally intended.

"You like to play God in the garden, then?" 

"I wouldn't say that."

"What would you say?"

Minho looks up, a surprisingly thoughtful expression etched into his features, as if really, genuinely giving the question an ample amount of thought. "I would say that I like to create!"

A beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Minho continues on with his task. You cock your head to the side, watching him quietly as he moves as if an incredibly bizarre exchange hasn't just taken place. The truth of the matter, you know without so much as even having to ask, is that the discussion is more than likely not strange to him, at all. A perfectly fine chat, nothing out of the ordinary.

Naturally, in the midst of moments like these is when Minho seems most at ease.

"You're a bit odd, Mr. Lee," you say. Calmness is heavy in your tone, marking down the potential distaste that might otherwise accompany such words. "Do you often hear that?"

"Yes, but my oddities and eccentricities are what make the mind tick, the art work and come to life. If I were anything other than myself, who knows what may come of it. I'd rather not find out. Oh, that reminds me—"

Setting his tools down and wiping his hands uselessly on his brown trousers, Minho pauses all of his toiling about to give you his full attention for the words that he is intending for you. His face appears somewhat disappointed, but there's something else mixing within the emotions that you might easily name that you can't quite pinpoint.

"At the beginning of the summer, around June or so, I will leave you to carry on with a showing. I will be gone until autumn time, perhaps November…it will be cold again when I return."

Your stomach drops, and that feeling shocks you.

"Of course, the estate is yours to do as you see fit, and you may leave it as frequently as you wish, too. All of the staff will be yours. It is all yours."

Your lips thin into a frown, and as it would seem, the reaction surprises Minho. He looks up at you in confusion, and perhaps quickly works through the thoughts by himself, because his eyes dip down and away from you, unable to share his gaze with your own with how displeased you appear.

"I'm going to be alone here…for months…"

"Well, you won't be alone…" he says quietly, offering nothing.

"We've finally begun the process of getting to know one another in a meaningful way, and now you're leaving until autumn…it'll be as though we're strangers all over again when you return."

"Surely it won't be that bad…" Minho forces himself to give you answers, but none of them quell the feeling that presses against your chest. "I'll return before you even notice I'm away. For a long time upon your arrival, it was as if I wasn't here at all."

"And I hated it!" you reply quickly, brashly. The words come out loud and honest in a way that you have not intended. Your eyes sit wide on your face, and finally, Minho slowly looks up at you again with eyes not unlike your own.

Neither of you speak for a long while, until Minho sighs and has no other option but to do so himself.

"I apologize, I…did not anticipate that you would feel this way about it, but nevertheless, there is nothing that I can do. This is a part of my work, I often must leave to do such things. The year after this one will be no different, and if it is, then the futility of fame and the fickleness of the human intrigue has finally caught up to me." He quiets again, continues trying to wipe the dirt caked onto the skin of his hands off and onto his pants uselessly. A pointless endeavor. It feels not unlike wanting to be loved. 

"I can…try to come home sooner, at the tail end of things. Sometimes it wraps up earlier than anticipated," he says, looking away from your disappointed eyes. "I've not bothered to rush home before, with nothing waiting for me. Not to imply that you are…waiting for my return…"

"I would like that," you say, simply put. "Suppose then we should make an effort to make these last two months together count, yes?"

Minho doesn't look up at you, too socially strangled to do so. It's not necessary, however, because the small perk at the corner of his mouth as a result of what you have proposed says plenty.

𝕏𝕀𝕀𝕀.

"Another lovely dinner, thank you, Mai."

She nods to Minho kindly, accepting the compliment, and then finishes up her small cleaning tasks to head out and away from the dining area. You look out and across the living room at the large window that leads into the garden—not unlike your study—and bask in the way that the moonlight shines down onto the glistening, wet leaves and petals that have since come to bloom.

"Have you been out yet? In the evening, I mean." Minho turns to you when he says it, notices where it is that you've been looking, but you shake your head.

"No, too busy with my writing, I suppose."

"You'll find an excuse forever if you allow yourself to, come on, let's go."

Minho doesn't touch you, but he waves his hand towards you and then back into the direction of the side door that leads into the garden. You follow along without much argument, wanting just as much to see what the grounds have to offer you, and perhaps now is as good of a time as any.

The nighttime breeze is cold, and you are not at all dressed to be traversing it with only a thin shawl draped over your shoulders. Immediately upon stepping down and onto the cobblestone pathway your arms fly up to cradle yourself, attempting to hug back the warmth that escapes. Minho seems far less bothered by the pricking of cold against his skin. He is never dressed in anything special or extravagant for as long as you have known him; a plain, white button down shirt with brown, fitted pants suited for not much more than becoming dirty without a care. 

Regardless, you push through. It is not often that the two of you partake in anything other than a dinner, or a coffee together. Two people so wrapped up in their own things that they nearly forget about the existence of the other. You make an effort—Minho is getting better over the weeks—but only so many hours in a day.

The two of you slip around the gray, brick corner of the home; grand in its stature. As far as the eye can see sit beds of flowers, ornate bushes, and the shining droplets of rain from earlier in the day that still collect on each. It's a beautiful sight, the way that they twinkle, and when Minho turns to look back at you, a rare and wide smile pulls at his face.

And then it falls.

"Are you cold?" he asks, concerned and rushing towards you instead. "You should have said something, only now do I realize that you're not dressed for the evening breeze."

"I'm fine, really," you insist, something of a lie with the way that you tremble. He must not be thinking clearly, too wrapped up in the sight before him to thoroughly consider all of his options. Minho reaches for you, presses smooth, warm palms to your arms and runs down them carefully before grasping gently at your wrists and pulling your body against his. He wraps his arms around you—he is firm, both in body and embrace—and he smells like the strangest combination of paint and cinnamon.

Indeed, you are warmer now.

You are not unfamiliar with the touch of a man, and it is not that in particular that dredges up the nervousness in your stomach. Rather, you have never shared a touch with this man, and this man is the one that you live with, are married to. You wonder if it is only natural to have considered the possibility of wanting him; handsome, smart, kind, who wouldn't at the very least enjoy the fantasy of such a thing.

But never to touch.

Minho's hands, surprisingly strong and confident, inch down your back to pool at the small of it as distance is created between the both of your bodies. You crave the kind of intimacy that being like this gives you, but still it feels wrong when it comes from him. Accepting this arrangement as nothing more than a marriage of convenience cements certain ideas for the remainder of your time with this man, and one of those, unwaveringly, is that love and love making will be strictly absent from it.

Yet you enjoy the way that he touches you now.

In the dark of night, and just outside of the manor, Minho pulls back from you slowly and it's like this that you are finally able to see him up close, the tiny, charming intricacies of his face otherwise missed due to proximity. A small freckle on his nose, the ever so slight crookedness to his front teeth that—while you have noticed—are so much more handsome and real like this.

His eyes sparkle looking at you, and there's a pause before anything more happens. In your mind, you beg. Loudly asking for that which you seek, no matter the outcome. You can deal with that when it comes, and perhaps you don't even know precisely what it is that you desire from him now. Still, you beg; please, please, please…

Minho's eyes fixate on yours, and then drop down, down, to where your lips sit. His own part, as if with intention to speak, or a desire to taste, one you prefer far more than the other. He does neither, however, finds eye contact once more, but his fingers grasping harder into the loose fabric sitting at the small of your back sends chills down your spine in a way that the meeting of your lips might not even manage.

Do you want, Lee Minho? Do you crave, as well?

"We should go inside," he says, a whisper that shakes. His gaze finds itself fixated down towards your lips again, and all concern aside, you want in that moment for him to have you. "You're not dressed to be out here, you'll catch a cold."

If Minho has ever desired you, even for a moment prior to this, never has he shown so much as an inkling of it. Now, he stands unraveled, pulled apart and bare for you to see. You wonder if he aches, you cannot help but wonder whether or not the need will be sated.

"Yes, let us do that," you answer, but only because you should. No part of you wishes to find warmth within the walls of the estate. 

The following weeks bring a sort of comfortable bliss to the previously cold, ominous interior of the home. One morning, however, that all changes.

Early mornings are warmer now than they once were, each passing day cutting through the chilly breeze. The grounds come to live in lush greens and colorful petals; you've even begun taking trips out of the countryside and into the nearest, small town. It has little to offer besides functional necessity, but leaving the estate is a breath of fresh air that rejuvenates your senses.

You hope to make that journey today, but first, there is work that must be done.

The manuscript is coming along, words filling each page like they've always meant to be there. With your coffee in hand, you make your way towards the study that keeps your things like an untended vault. Secrets hide inside, but no one dares to seek them out—or so you thought.

You push the door open, and what you find is nearly enough to drop the cup from your hands and to the floor completely. Your heart stops similarly instead, and for a brief moment, you cannot believe your eyes.

Minho looks up at you from inside, standing by the desk from which you often work. In his hands sit all of your deepest, innermost secrets. Things you wish not to share with him now, perhaps ever, but the look on his face is one of someone who now understands everything.

He is difficult to read from here, his feelings incomprehensible from just what his features have presented as the two of your eyes meet.

You rush inside, though the damage is done, you know. "What are you doing?" you ask, making little effort to mask your feelings on this matter. Once you reach him, you snatch the pages from his hands and shove them back inside of the drawer from which he got them. "That's not yours to read!"

He does not respond right away, and instead, the room fills with a heavy silence. Minho's hands drop slowly to his sides as he watches you, lips pulled thinly across his face. He appears neither angry, nor sad. He has the appearance of nothing, at all.

"I only wanted to understand you better, get to know you more than what we already have, I thought…" he trails off, eyes falling away from yours, "I thought this to be the best way, suppose I was not mistaken."

You don't dare make an attempt to find his gaze, not looking at one another. It's better like this. Anger bubbles up inside of you, as well as the humiliation of everything that has led you to this point, to this place with him. "So, now you know. Now you know everything."

"I don't…" Minho starts again in response, once again there are words that he cannot seem to find with the same sort of urgency that he needs them. "If it is some concern about my feelings on the matter, I'm unbothered by what you've done, by your history."

"And why should you care?" you ask, the words coming out biting and spit like a kind of venom. "We are not involved in this partnership in any typical sense of the word. This is a marriage of convenience, and convenient it shall remain." It feels bad when spoken, as if betraying your own self-interest. What you feel it to be instead is the most logical course of action given the circumstances; neither serving you nor your heart as far as any potential, budding relationship between the two of you is concerned.

Minho's eyes dart up at that and find your own, but you continue on. "A wife for show, am I not? And for show I will continue to be. No one else knows, you will never experience the same sort of humiliation as I have, if that is your concern."

"It's not." His face twists at the words you've said to him. "That couldn't be the furthest thing from my concern. Do I come off as someone who loses sleep over the opinions of people?"

There's more fight in his voice now, something you're not used to hearing from him. It rattles you, but only slightly, because you are not frightened of him or what he may do. Rather, it serves as a sort of reminder of just how little you appear to understand about him. Most men, most husbands, in these situations would be livid, and demanding of the dissolution of a partnership from which has been built upon deception. This, however, would seem to be far from Minho's interest.

"I would be dishonest if I said that I didn't wish you had told me, of course I do, but I am reasonable enough to understand why you have not," Minho says. "You have lived a whole life before ever having met me, your path leading you elsewhere. That is neither my business, nor my concern. My concern is…"

He does not complete the thought and instead turns away from you once more. Minho makes his way towards the door of the study, but gives pause just before making his exit.

"I am to leave in a week's time, perhaps the space will do us well, after all."

The reminder of all of the time that you will spend by yourself hangs grossly dense inside of your heart. Everything about this feels so wrong, not as it was meant to ever be. Birthed from some incomprehensible place is the desire to beg him to stay, to not leave you here alone despite knowing that he cannot. So much progress has been made between the two of you, only to be spoiled by this; left to fester for the summer months, and you cannot fathom a scenario in which he returns having missed you now.

𝕏𝕀𝕍.

When Minho leaves for his trip, you do not bid him farewell.

Instead, you watch from the window of your bedroom as bags and canvases are piled into the carriage. Minho, Mai and the rest of the staff all smile and say their goodbyes—you can't help but wonder if he wishes you were there alongside them.

It is unimportant. What must be done carries on regardless, and Minho sits himself inside, the carriage pulls away, and down the pathway he eventually disappears; not to return until the leaves on the trees begin to color and fall away with the soon to be onset of winter air once more.

You wonder if you will miss him, only time will tell.

The passing months bore you, and offer you little to placate your wandering mind.

Summer is in full swing, it comes and works its way to closing before you have much of a moment to enjoy it. You make many trips into town to partake in the fresh bakeries and even engage with the folk who enjoy their lives there. They seem happy, you can't help but wonder what that must be like.

Though the manor had been lonely upon your first arrival, there is a stark difference between then, and now. The knowledge that Minho was there—somewhere—within the halls somehow serving as just enough of a comfort to take the edge off of the blanketing nothingness, now gone; and worse than that, you do not know what awaits you when he will return.

Mai offers you kindness, and that is appreciated, but her dedication to her job makes it so that the line towards friendship never truly becomes crossed. You have not seen your parents, and they do not write to you as often as you might like them to. Tzuyu has sent a letter or two, but they are as infrequent as the others, as she is busy with the courtship process herself after the announcement from the prince.

Seven days into September, there is a knock at the door.

Sitting in the vast living room area, surrounded by old paintings, books and other such decorations, the sun begins to set on the home and the summer heat finally starts to wane. The book in hand—one Minho had recommended before his departure—is one that tells the tale of an old painter who traveled all around the world, and gifted a canvas of his art to every person that he met along the way. You wonder if this is the life that Minho wishes for, you wonder if eventually, you will be left behind for good as nothing more than another collectible that he has accumulated inside of the estate.

"Miss…" 

Mai comes up from behind, wringing her hands strangely, unlike anything you've ever seen from her before. Nervous. "You have a visitor."

"I do?" you question, reeling. You are not expecting anyone. "Who is it?"

"I think it might be best if you come quickly."

She has never appeared so concerned to you, and thus, you make haste to follow her and trust her word. The strides past the kitchen and through the small hallway are quick and long, there's a kind of worry bubbling up inside of you. All of the worst potential things begin to muddle your mind; what if your parents have passed away and someone has come to deliver the news in person? 

But turning into the foyer puts a different kind of nail into a different kind of coffin.

Three men stand in the doorway, one on each side of the person intended to be the centerpiece of their arrival. A simple, loose black shirt draping over broad shoulders and a thin, lithe torso, cinched at the waist and carelessly tucked into the matching black trousers there.

He nearly gives the appearance of someone normal, everyday. Just a spot above Minho's own, usual look. Fascinating, the way your mind instantly moves to compare the two.

"Hello, darling," Hyunjin says. Then, he turns to his guards. "You may go."

You feel Mai's eyes on you, and quickly turn to acknowledge them. "Please, leave us."

She nods, and you can only imagine the questions running through her head. You have not a clue how you intend on ever addressing them in the future, but there are many things that you do not understand yet in front of you.

"Your Highness," you say, and then begin to take your bow. Hyunjin steps forward with a gentle scoff, and quickly waves the display away, instead setting his hand atop your shoulder as he moves past you and into the direction from which you came. 

"That's not necessary, let us leave the theatrics of royalty for the streets, where the people might see them, shall we? I think we are a long way away from requiring that between us."

And so you do. The two of you make your way back into the common area of the downstairs and each take an end of the lengthiest couch. Hyunjin sits leaned forward, hands clasped together and resting against his knees. His hair is still long and dark, you thought he might cut it to relinquish such a boyish, juvenile look, but you find that has not been the case.

"I must admit," he begins through a sigh, "I was a bit taken aback when I heard who it was that you ended up being married off to."

"Yes, well, suppose I experienced much of the same when it came to you," you reply curtly.

To that, Hyunjin smiles slightly and stares down at the floor between his feet.

"Fair play. Unfortunately, there are certain expectations…"

"Was everything a lie? Did you never have any intention of marrying me? Did you never love me? If there are expectations then surely you knew when we began our private affairs what could come of it all, so why…"

"It's not so simple," Hyunjin says slowly, turning to look at you now. "My parents have the majority of say in who gets chosen. How lovely it would be if falling in love were enough."

You look at him, but frown. The possibility that the choice be wholly out of his hands is not one that had ever crossed your mind, too busy cursing him for a choice that may have never been his to begin with. Your eyes rake over him, his face; and perhaps there is something of a sadness behind his eyes if you dare to give him the grace of seeing it.

"Where is Sana?"

To this question, Hyunjin sits back with a heavy, loud exhale. "At home, perhaps shopping with her friends as she tends to do. Where is Mr. Lee?"

"Away for work, until the end of autumn."

"It must be lonely, being cooped up here in the countryside alone for so long."

"I…" you hesitate, unsure of how much of yourself you wish to indulge in a man who has already hurt you so gravely in the past. "I make do."

Looking towards you again, Hyunjin's gaze is heavy and narrow, full of a silent contemplation that he has not yet shared with you. Talking to someone that you know so well feels comforting, welcomed. You feel at home. He is disarming.

"Does he suit you?" Hyunjin asks.

You hadn't thought about it in such simplistic terms before. Does Minho suit you? you question yourself in your mind again.

And then you give one, single nod. "He suits me enough, I suppose. Our partnership is a bit…unorthodox perhaps, but we find joy in each other's company."

His eyebrow perks up at that, catching the hint of something unspoken hidden between the words.

"Is that so? A loveless marriage then?"

You scoff, shifting uncomfortably in your seat at the mere mention of it, regardless of how much truth there may be in the statement. "I think loveless makes it seem so much more harsh than it is. I believe we have begun to care for one another in some fashion, over the months. We talk, we have meals together—"

"But he doesn't make love to you."

Stilling your awkward movements, you slowly turn to look up and meet Hyunjin's curious gaze once more.

"No. We've not…reached that point in our relationship, if we ever do." Your eyes fall away. "Surely you are familiar with marriages of convenience, and that very much is ours. We are both at peace with it. Minho is kind, he is accepting of my interests and allows me to do as I please in order to maintain a sense of self, I couldn't ask for more."

As if taking your words as an invitation, Hyunjin slowly begins making his way down the length of the empty couch and towards you. A wry smile tugs at his lips, and though the better part of you knows better than to entertain the possibility of whatever it is that this man may have to offer you, there does still remain the wicked loneliness of a woman who misses—craves—the adoring, wanting touch of a man who desires her.

You tell yourself to create more space between your bodies as Hyunjin comes near, to stand to your feet, to ask him to leave. You are not frightened of him, not an ounce of concern laden in you that he may wish to take something that you are unwilling to give him; no, the horror lies within the fact that you very much do wish to give to him.

Hyunjin's hand finds your leg. The touch is light, tentative and testing. You do not pull away.

"That is no way to live the rest of your days, my love."

It should be harder, you imagine, to give in to his whims. The consideration should weigh heavier on your chest, not handed over so easily once his lips find the skin of your neck, and shortly thereafter, your own. Hyunjin's hands smooth up your legs and beneath your dress, laid back against the sofa. He hovers over you with long, black hair that curtains the both of you inside of this moment. Unsure whether or not it is right, or wrong. For him, the answer is a simple one, but suppose these sorts of things are commonplace among men of a royal standing; after all, who exists to cast down judgment upon them?

His touch is electric against your skin, even more so with the first, slow press of himself into you. You gasp at the feeling. Indeed, you have missed this more than even you had known.

Still, you think of Minho.

When Hyunjin takes his leave once more and bids you farewell, new thoughts and feelings run rampant through your mind as you smile and wave down the cobblestone walkway. Perhaps there had been a kind of truth in his words—that this is no way to live forever—but you cannot fathom any other way, either.

Falling into Hyunjin's touch is easy because it is one that is so familiar. The same motions repeated time and time again and to a kind of perfection, however; something is missing, something that you cannot quite put your finger on.

𝕏𝕍.

The weeks continue to draw on, as does the day of Minho's return in November.

Leaves begin to change their colors, falling away from the branches that they once called their home. The flowers litter the ground, browning and dying to spring anew in the following year. It reminds you of your first arrival upon this place, though snow covered the land then. Not yet has it fallen for the first time this season, but soon it shall.

You keep busy, trying to put out of your mind the happenings in his absence. It is of little consequence to you what has happened in Hyunjin's brief visit, and perhaps the worst part of your soul considers it a kind of unearned payback towards a friend who had taken everything you had hoped for from you. It is unfair, not the kind of person you wish to be, and you put the thought to bed just as quickly as it comes to you. You do not expect to see him again, and in kind, you decide to never delve in such foolish and unbecoming behaviors regarding him even in the event that you do.

Written off as closure, there is some semblance of peace therein. 

On the day of Minho's return, the house is alive. The keepers of the manor all rushing around to ensure that everything is precisely as it should be for the moment that he steps inside; it fascinates you to watch them, knowing full well that Minho is not the sort of man to be bothered by the occasional, misplaced item or a spec of dust left upon the mantle. Of course, this is their job, and they take it upon themselves to make sure that it is done to the best of their ability. You wait just inside the foyer as good wives do when his carriage pulls up, and the quick, anxious beating of your heart comes to be a far more unexpected guest than the man of the hour is.

The doors open and he enters. Two other men are with him and aiding with his belongings, a sight that reminds you of Hyunjin's visit, and you are none pleased by that fact. Minho is dressed differently than you are used to seeing him; far more put together, and with a heavy coat sitting atop his shoulders. Hair less unkempt, it makes you wonder if someone had their hand at his appearance before he left to begin his journey.

He greets the staff first, those that arrived with him handing off his things, and then, he turns his sights towards you.

"Welcome home," you say, fighting back the shake of your voice. "Was it a good trip?"

"It was, but long. Too long for my liking," he admits with a smile. "I'm happy to be home, and not looking forward to having to do much of the same next year, but we'll take it as it comes."

The two of you step towards one another, and to your surprise, Minho takes your hand into his.

"How have things been while I've been away? Hopefully not too dull."

His eyes are gentle as he looks at you, and there is a part of you that wonders if he even recalls the events that took place only just before his embarking. If he does, he shows no signs of it; only a captivating adoration for you.

"Things have been fine…good," you say with a nod, eyes forcing themselves away from his own. Your nervousness and secrets catching up to you, making themselves known within the room. "The days passed as they do, I took many trips into the small town down the way, worked on my book…you've not missed much along the way."

You can feel Mai's eyes on you as you tell the half-truth, and for that reason, you continue on. Perhaps a wild assumption that you would be able to keep this large a secret strictly under lock and key.

Squeezing his hand lightly, you smile ever so slightly at him and say, "We should talk, there are some things. It would be best that way, once you're settled in."

"Of course, I only need a short while. A rinse off and a change of clothes from being cooped up in travel for so long, and then I'm all yours."

Pulling his hand away to attend to his things, you wish deeply to hold on tight—afraid that this may be the last time Minho ever offers you such a genuine, cherished moment.

Later into the afternoon, the changing colors of the sky can be seen through the windows. Hues of blues, purples and oranges that decorate it so beautifully, informing all of those who can see it that the sun is soon to take its rest along the horizon.

You stand in the kitchen, a bowl of fruits sitting before you. Apples, cranberries and persimmons give off their assortment of shades to choose from when Minho quietly makes his way inside.

Eyes meet, and smiles follow after.

Minho's hair is damp from water, strewn about his head and face, entirely uncared for in appearance. He is back in his usual attire; pants with paint stains that not even Mai has managed to defeat, but that function perfectly well as far as he is concerned, you reckon.

Leaning against the counter beside you, he pops a cranberry into his mouth and then cocks his head to the side inquisitively. "You wanted to speak to me?"

Moments like this make it so much harder. You'd not wanted to disclose this to him in any case, but have since decided it better to do so. The guilt weighs so heavily on your chest—has ever since the day—and you wonder if it is selfish to put that onto a man who does not need to carry the burden. Minho is your husband, yes, but in title and legality alone. He has given you permission to carry on as you please, explicit permission to take a lover if that is what you so wish to do; so why is it that having done so feels so regrettable?

This is not a situation that you have ever found yourself to be in before, and thus, you do not know how best to navigate it. You are not one to mince words, however, and so you make the choice to simply come out with it.

"While you were away, Hyunjin was here."

Minho's chewing slows, all softness in his face melting away once the words finally come together as something that he understands the meanings of. "Here? He came here?"

"Yes, to see me."

"He came here…to see you…" Minho says slowly, thoughtfully. "If he knew to come here, then surely he must know that you've been married." He pauses briefly, thinks it through just a bit more before continuing. "As has he."

You nod affirmatively and then say, "Yes, all of this is true. He wanted to see me…I think…there was something of unfinished business between the two of us, as you know with the way that things turned out. It was a brief encounter, he was not here long. I do not think we will meet again in the future."

Minho looks at you tentatively, and you can nearly see all of the questions that beg to be asked swimming around behind his eyes. Surely, he fights back the urge to do so with all of his might for your sake alone, and instead chooses to stomach the brunt of this knowledge by himself, no matter how much discomfort it may bring.

But you do not escape them all.

"You say the encounter was…brief," he starts, though his eyes are unable to meet your own as he presses forward with what he must know. "I have little interest in prying into your personal affairs, I understand what this is—between us—just as well as you do, but I must know; did you—"

"Yes."

Rather than making him say it, you put an end to the entire thing abruptly. Minho blinks through the acceptance of it, a little awe struck, you can tell. He gives two, small nods and then swallows down hard.

"Thank you for telling me," he says. His voice is level, but you can tell as well as anyone else might that it is a facade. Minho turns towards the hallway and says, "If you don't mind, I have work to attend to. Have a good evening."

He does not appear outwardly angry or upset in the ways that you are used to men expressing such emotions, and thus, you are unsure of what to make from all of this. You watch him take two, three steps towards his exit before you rush around the corner of the marble counter and towards him. A hand reaches out towards his arm, but you do not dare make contact—unsure of what may happen if you do. Minho does not scare you, nor has he ever shown aggression, or violence towards you, but you must at all costs aim to protect yourself in such precarious circumstances.

The movement must catch his attention and he stills in place, seemingly waiting for you to reach him. Minho turns to look at you from over his shoulder, unwilling to fully give himself to your insistence of such.

Your chest feels impossibly tight, the struggling burn of discomfort creeping up and into your throat. Are these tears that threaten you? Why, you wonder. You care for him, yes, but there is little between you, and in most recent times not much more than some sort of contention. What is there to care for? And more than that, when has this man ever bothered to express as much towards you?

Still, you press forward. "Are you upset with me? It was thoughtless, but you have said before that I am able to do such things. Don't punish me for the allowances that you have offered!"

"Punish you?" Minho says, tone questioning. "I have no interest in punishing you for anything that you have done in my absence. Your personal matters are your own. If you wish to sleep with the prince then who am I to tell you not to."

"I do not wish to sleep with the prince! I wish to sleep with—"

It comes out faster than you have the chance to pull it back. Dripping with pure emotion and absolutely unbridled truth, you manage to cut it off at the tail end, though you fear that the damage has been done. The heat of humiliation curls up your spine, you take a step back and away from the man in front of you.

Too much silence creeps up between the two of your bodies, and Minho offers nothing to you in the immediate aftermath of the words. Wordlessly, you beg him to say something—anything—to cut through it, even if it is condemnation that sits at the tip of his tongue.

Much to your surprise, however, Minho turns back to face away from you fully with something of an awkward shift to his stature. He does not look at you, but the more that he chooses not to, the less you believe it to be a sign of displeasure and more so one born from a kind of strange unsureness of how to move forward, where to go with this from here.

He clears his throat loudly, one by one cracking the knuckles in his fingers as if to fill in the empty space between your bodies. Finally, he says, "Perhaps we simply move on from this, as if nothing ever happened. In any case, I'll be in the atrium, should you need to find me."

A curious thing to say from the man, one that has you reeling in shock upon hearing it. 

"Is that…an invitation?"

And to that, Minho sighs aloud.

"Must you make me speak everything into existence? Surely you've noticed I lack the capabilities for these sorts of things."

It's not perfect, but you'd not expected to leave this particular discussion with a smile pulling at your lips.

𝕏𝕍𝕀.

The atrium smells of cinnamon, paint thinner, and alcohol.

Rum, in particular. You're not able to make out its particular scent until you're much closer to the man that it emanates off of, pungent and impossible to ignore. You try to recall any other time that you've been aware of Minho's drinking, but you cannot.

Tonight must be a special night for him to be partaking.

There's a soft spot in the wooden paneling of the floor, and it creaks beneath your weight. This is enough to finally alert Minho of your arrival to this place, having not noticed you before. He glances at you from over his shoulder—not unlike the hours before—and then carries on with the mixture of colors that have already been dabbed onto the bristles of his brush.

"You came," he says.

"You drink."

Minho sighs at your response. "You know this, we have shared wine at the dinner table before."

"Yes, but not like this."

Hunched over and knelt onto the floor, Minho ignores this and instead continues painting. You opt out of pressing any further on the matter and instead, bring yourself to his side in order to see what it is that he is working on.

The canvas is wide rather than tall, with hues of blue, white and green masterfully splashed across the majority of it. The beauty of the ocean and the waves that live within it perfectly captured in time by his hand—a small ship depicted amidst it all.

"I spent some time by the harbor on this trip, and spent a good deal of my time there thinking about how my life might be if I ceased to exist here, the way that I have been, the way that I do."

You look down at him, but he does not look up. He continues with his work.

"The truth of the matter, is that there isn't much keeping me here, is there? Not much would change. I could be anywhere in the world doing this. No reason it must be here."

"Is that why you painted this? Your wish to escape it all?" you ask.

Minho stops his strokes, then drops his paintbrush into the muddied mixture of water just beside him. He stands to his feet—albeit wobbly—and stares down at the piece of artwork as if it's something not crafted from himself. A strange existence that has somehow found its way into his home, into his thoughts, but not of his own doing.

"I'm not sure that I even wish for it," he says. "I'm unsure of a lot of things. I make decisions largely because they are expected of me, because I see what everyone else does, and so I emulate it. It's easy to assimilate like this, I don't have to think about it all that much."

"Like taking a wife."

Minho looks away from the painting then and over towards you. You meet his eyes, but feel a sense of nervousness under the intensity that sits behind them tonight. 

"It has always been difficult for me to set my anxieties aside without the aid of warmth that the bottle brings. I don't partake often, I know it's unhealthy, so I keep to myself and suffer alone." Minho's hand reaches towards yours, and while you're happy to allow him to take it, that is not all that he does. Quickly you feel the gentle tug of his strength, inching you closer to him. His warm, soft palm tracing up the outside of your arm until it disappears behind your back to rest there. Now the scent of alcohol is strong on his breath, but you cannot find it within yourself to care when proximity is so tightly held between you.

Minho's finger traces down the middle of your back, an action that sends chills up the very same place. You fight back the shudder that threatens to shake you while in his grasp, and your own hands find their placement at the front of his broad, firm chest.

The alcohol indeed must be making him brave, lowering his inhibitions and the torrent of thoughts that otherwise might bar him from ever attempting this. For that, you are thankful. You glance at his lips, then up at eyes that are already watching you. Minho's thoughts and feelings are nearly indiscernible on his face; still thinking, thinking, thinking, no doubt.

He leans in towards you, so short and small that you nearly miss it entirely if not for how rapt with attention to him you are. A tentative gesture to test the waters, to see if you will pull away.

But you will not.

And so, he presses forward again, slowly still, as if to give you ample time to escape him. You couldn't imagine yourself a world where you might; heart beating hard and fast within your chest in anticipation of this, fingers gripping tightly into the fabric of his shirt with each passing second between the two of you. Truthfully, you have been wanting this, for so, so long. Longer than you could ever fathom to allow him to know, the kind of dull, anticipatory, hopeful desire that rests dormant often, but never completely able to be ignored.

It's hard to pinpoint the moment in which Minho became more than just a concept of a husband in your mind, muddied even more once his lips finally find your own. Careful and warm, he kisses you like he's afraid to break you, but the hand gripping at the small of your back tells a different story; one of forced back desire, of bitten back need. It presses your body more firmly against his, it informs far more than his words will allow for now. 

When you do not create space, the kiss becomes heavier too. Testing, unsure lips that at first only ghost against your own then expose their want for you in the careful turn of his head and ever so slight nips of teeth at the bottom of your lip. Harder, faster with every moment that passes in the atrium; you forget to breathe and gasp into his mouth, Minho finally relents in tasting you so ravenously.

Physical desire is nothing new to you, but never have you experienced it quite like this.

Minho's free hand comes up to cup your face, thumb grazing lightly against the skin of your cheek as he looks at you. Both just slightly out of breath, you can't fathom how wrecked you appear just from a kiss.

His lips part as if to speak, and then close shortly thereafter. Once again; thinking, thinking, thinking. The alcohol is incapable of disposing of it all. Then, they part again, and Minho pushes forward with the words that fail him so frequently.

"Do you still love the prince?"

The least that you can do is answer his question honestly.

"I don't know."

And though it may not be the ideal reply, Minho still appears pleased by it. Everything that you have learned about him since your arrival here points to the very same conclusion, because he smiles ever so slightly, and gives a small nod in acceptance.

𝕏𝕍𝕀𝕀.

Though not spoken of, the kiss lives on in every interaction shared between the two of you going forward.

You wish deeply for the conversation to come to a head, but by now you know Minho and the way that he functions well enough to know that that will more than likely not be the case. Still, you manage to find solace in this fact; his nervous mannerisms and the barely there catch in his voice when speaking to you on occasion, as if the memory of such has just caught up with him in real time. You smile through these instances, pleased by them in some capacity. Pleased knowing that it is not a thing that has simply come and gone.

The only person that Minho answers to in his life is his agent, and his agent insists on having a holiday party at the estate.

On the day of, it is a week into December. Snow has begun to fall, though not heavily yet. It sprinkles like sugar from the sky, only lightly dusting the windows and grounds. It is a beautiful sight, but you're thankful for not having to be the one traveling within it, and when the guests start arriving, you realize just how grossly unprepared for this volume of guests the home truly is. Not enough coat racks, not enough space for wiping off their shoes. Hats are placed wherever it is that they can go; Mai scuttling about the hallways with her staff in an attempt to make it all work.

To your surprise, Minho makes himself seen. No doubt a push by said agent, but his displeasure at doing so resides heavily within his stature.

First laying eyes on him is a sight to behold. His hair is more put together, set into place purposefully. He wears all black, but the front panel of his coat is garnished with the sparkle and shine of dark jewels that bring it to life. It's a little unlike him, you have to admit, but Minho wears it well.

Quickly, you finish up a conversation with people that your husband barely knows, that you have barely been partaking in, and go to him. He, too, is amidst something of the same, though handling it far less gracefully than you have.

You put on your widest smile, and curl your arm firmly around his own from the side.

"My sincerest apologies," you start, tone dripping with a sweet edge, "I'm afraid I must take my husband from you, if only for a brief moment."

The man smiles and nods happily, understanding of whatever situation it is that you've made up in your head in order to rescue Minho. It's late into the evening and you've not been keeping a watchful eye, but the smell on his breath of alcohol is one that you're quite familiar with, and disappearing into the halls towards less-traveled passages, you can't help but wonder what this instance has in store.

Minho drags along, but doesn't say a word. He stumbles slightly once, you try not to ascribe it to his drunkenness unfairly. You have just the place in mind, and once you reach the old, empty study at the far, opposite end of the hall, you push Minho inside lightly, and then close the door behind.

"Are you rescuing the damsel?" Minho asks, cheeky and with a smile. "Was it that obvious?"

"Only to someone with the eyes to see it," you reply. "I know that you don't enjoy these sorts of busy situations."

"One might say I hate it, in fact." Minho steps towards you, and you take a step back. Only there is nowhere left for you to go, and your back is up against the door from which you came. "Indeed, I much prefer quieter moments of peace, just between myself and another…"

His hand finds the outside of your thigh, only the thick layers of your dress between skin. He closes the space further, as much as he can, until his body is pressed tightly against your own. You've been holding your breath—for how long? you wonder. A sharp inhale takes you, though it's ragged and shudders at the feeling of being with him like this. Everything that Minho offers you feels white hot, regardless of the clothes that keep you separated, and when his mouth finds the line of your jaw, you cannot help but melt into the touch.

You ache for him. A dull throb that makes itself known, impossible to ignore. His other hand snakes around your waist to pull you closer—as if closer is physically possible. You could beg for him to touch you elsewhere, drunk with want not unlike his own intoxication.

"I don't care if you love another man," he says suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere. The abrupt mention of Hyunjin sends something of a cold chill to your otherwise hot skin. "I'm happy that you're here, I love having you here…" His lips are still lightly mouthing against the flesh of your jaw, voice low, nearly a whisper. "I love…you. Even in the event that you love another, that is of no consequence to me. Not really."

Desire has waned, flushed away quickly as if it had never even been there. You gently push Minho away so that you can look him in the eyes, but all that you find is the slightly drunken, but incredibly sincere glean looking back at you.

"You're drunk," you say, rejecting his advances for this to go any further. Now is not the time. "You always say and do such things when you're intoxicated."

"Do you assume me to be more intoxicated than I am so that you don't have to acknowledge the words?"

You don't respond to this immediately. Minho does not deserve to be told a lie, and thus, you say nothing.

He continues on. "In the atrium that night, you assumed that I was making poor choices, outside of the realm of my own logic? Things that I would never do just because of the drink? And then now, you think the same? Do you truly believe that, or is it easier than the words? Because no one understands that feeling better than I do."

"Is that why you drink, then? To say and do all of the things that you can't do when you're sober?" You scoff lightly. "You can't drink through every step of your life."

"I don't, I won't," Minho says firmly. "Think of it more…as a coincidence."

Stepping towards you once more, Minho closes in on you all over again. His lips mere inches away from your own as he gazes down at you.

Then, the door opens from behind you, and he pulls it open to fashion himself an exit.

"If you don't believe me, then you're more than welcome to nurse my hangover in the morning hours, since you'll be awake!" he says loudly, far too cheerfully for everything that's gone on. 

You smile at him, and hate that you do. This annoying, eccentric, strange man that has buried himself so deeply beneath your skin. An unshakable, ineffable and unquantifiable shine to his mere existence.

Minho disappears back down the hall and towards the guests that await him, nearly skipping as he does so. You watch from the doorframe, make an effort to steady the quick beating of your heart, and replay the words over and over again in your mind; unremittingly.

"Good morning, darling."

Bent over the kitchen counter, chin perched up against your palm, you cock your head and smile at Minho as he slowly, carefully enters the shared space. Eyes narrow, like any light pains his entire being.

"Shall we take you for your bath, then?" you add, walking towards him and circling your arm around his.

A light steam rises from the water as Minho's sore body sinks into it. You reenter just moments later with a set of clothing in hand, and sit yourself just beside the porcelain tub to aid him in his recovery.

"You shouldn't drink so much," you say, obviously.

"I know," he admits through a groan. "Every time I do this, I say it'll be the last. Then another social event comes up."

"There was no such social event in the atrium that evening."

"Sure there was, you were there."

Silence falls between the two of you in the following moments, and you watch as Minho closes his eyes, sinks his body deeper into the water to the point that only his head sticks out from the top. You take it upon yourself to lightly remove strands of hair stuck to the dampness of his forehead, and then, Minho inhales with intent to speak.

"I apologize for last night, as well as for the evening in the atrium. I apologize for…parts of them, but not everything." He pauses, eyes still closed, but forces himself to continue on. "The truth is: I do not care about your history with the prince, no matter how recent it has been. I understand there is a complexity there that I may never be able to grasp, nor do I think it necessary for me to do so. What is necessary of me—as your husband—is to be kind, understanding, and perhaps if there could be space for it; loving."

You still completely, allowing the words to wash over you and sink deeply into every crevice of your being.

He speaks again. "Suppose what I had hoped for; some starry-eyed, hopeless romantic sort of expectation in all of this that was left unspoken, is that regardless of your feelings for him, your history with him, that you might still find space in your heart to someday love me too."

An immediate reply escapes you, and you lose sight of just how tortuous such a wait can be until Minho cracks one, single eye open and peers at you cautiously through it.

"Please, say something. Put me out of my misery, if you must," he says.

Your senses come back to you quickly, shaking your head in the negative. "No! No, Minho…have you truly not noticed? Let us not forget who it was that insisted upon the two of us becoming more than strangers who share a home together…"

"Living with strangers is, well, strange. You could have meant anything by that."

You try not to roll your eyes, but fail. Instead of pressing further on this particular endeavor, you decide to revisit the original one, as brought forward by him. The entire thing remains fascinating to you—the density of his capability to understand things that come to you with such ease.

"I probably can," you say, acknowledging his hope for the openness of your heart. "I probably do."

Minho closes his eyes again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The tension that collected at his shoulders amidst all of this falling away like weights strapped to him. You are calmed watching him unravel before you.

"Let us share an evening meal tonight, something special. Think about all of the things that you wish to say to me in earnest, and I will do the same," you offer quietly.

"I would like that."

𝕏𝕍𝕀𝕀𝕀.

Minho enters just as the large, antique clock begins to sing its tune of nine in the evening.

Candle light flickers against the walls of the dining room and illuminates the table where all of the dishes that Mai has hand crafted herself sit. A beautiful display, though hardly what you're taking an interest in tonight.

He takes his seat across from you, clears his throat gently, and averts his eyes as much as he can until it seemingly dawns on him that he cannot do so for much longer. Reluctantly, Minho looks at you, and though his appearance is not unlike his usual self, something new makes itself apparent within him.

Mai comes over and pours your glass of wine, then makes her way around the table towards his. However, Minho does not accept the gesture. Watching you the entire time.

"You're not having wine with your meal?" you ask.

"No, I've decided to come off it, at least for a time."

"For a time?"

"This time."

Surprisingly confident and almost sinister sounding, Minho no longer makes an effort to avert his eyes from you and as a result, the weight of them rests heavily on your form. There is a sort of humor to this, you find, desiring nothing more than for him to see you for so long and now feeling as though you should shrink away from beneath his gaze. Why is he looking at you in such a way? Why is it that you feel like prey?

You steady your nerves and smile. "Well, there will be other times."

"Do you wish to remain married to me?"

Your attention pulls towards him quickly and with a confused earnestness. "What? Why are you asking me such a thing?"

Minho leans forward against the table. "We agreed to have this meal together and discuss such things. I think…I have not done much to aid in the ease of your comfort here. I think we have grown a lot together, maybe even enjoy our time shared. Perhaps it is time that we decide on just how much of a married life we wish to have with one another. Thus, do you wish to remain married to me?"

"Is there really an alternative?" you question, somewhat humorously. "Of course, marriages have ended before but we hardly meet the sorts of societal requirements for such a thing."

"You have not answered my question," he insists.

You press your palms abruptly to the table, fed up by his ridiculous pushing on the matter.

"Yes! I wish to remain married to you! My goodness; we've shared meals together, our thoughts and dreams and hopes for the future together, intimacy together! As if I've not made it clear where I stand on the matter while I drag you along through all of this kicking and screaming the whole way…you don't exactly make it easy on a woman!"

"So you are happy."

"Yes!" you quickly bite back.

"Content."

"Yes, Minho!"

"But you want more," he continues on, the rapid fire back and forth between you now mounting the anticipation of where this is meant to go.

"Of course I do!"

"You desire more of me."

"Yes!" you reply, exasperated by the questioning but barely even having a moment to register what's been laid out before you. The affirmation slips out from your lips unwillingly, but it's too late to bring it back. Instead, you watch Minho's eyes narrow mischievously as a result of the grin that tugs at his lips. He must be pleased with himself.

"We should eat." Hardly convincing when you say it. Still, you pick up your utensil. "The food will get cold."

"We can eat any time," Minho says, still playfully persistent. "Is there anything that you wish to ask of me?"

"Yes! What has gotten into you?"

"You, us; the concept of it, the possibility of it." Minho pushes his chair back then and stands, makes his way around the table and towards you. He takes your hand gently, timidly, and pulls you up towards him. Protest dies in your throat before you have the chance to make it heard, because his hand slips around your back and as a result, your body rests flush against his. "Admittedly, I am slow on the uptake of such things. My thoughts get the best of me, second guessing every interaction, every word…" He trails off, the hand at your back slipping to settle at your waist, and then it tightens. "Every touch."

Minho's face dips over to the side of yours, lips edging at the shell of your ear and then he whispers against it, "But you say you want more of me, more that I've not yet given. More that I can give."

Your head swims, warm breath tickling your skin in such an enticing way. Minho's grip against you does not relent, nor do you want it to. You've quietly yearned for what appears to be now presented before you; his touch, and in ways, so much more than that.

"I've still not seen where you sleep," you say quietly, pointedly. "Only ever the atrium."

"Some husband I am, making my darling wife wait so long for such a thing." Minho's hand then slowly falls from your waist down to your hip, then further more to your thigh. His palm settles atop the front for a short moment before he then continues the journey between them, bunching the fabric of your skirt where his fingers rest. "I've not been doing my due diligence, have I?"

Knees nearly buckling at the touch, you clutch onto him by the shoulders, breath hitching as you attempt to answer him. "No, you certainly have not."

This is your best attempt at maintaining composure, but truthfully, you stand in his grasp, disoriented with want for him. Minho's lips graze your jaw, teeth bared within a smile. He says, "Allow me to make it up to you, then."

The large, ornate door to his bedroom closes, and with no more time to waste, Minho's hands begin to artfully search for the flesh of your body.

His lips hurriedly find yours, as if the only thing he ever wishes to taste is within them. Fingers adeptly unfastening the buttons and clasps of your dress while you, in turn, do much of the same at those that hold the fabric of his shirt in place. The race is won by you, and your mouths part only long enough to remove the hindrance from his body—but he follows just after—and your garment falls away, exposed to the ambient chill of the room, though not for long.

Minho leads you with a gentle urgency back towards his bed. There's a haste behind his motions that alludes to a dormant kind of desire that has been held inside of him for far longer than you have been aware of, not at all unlike yourself. As your back finds the mattress, Minho follows you over it; mouth only leaving your skin for the briefest of seconds before finding it once again.

Your legs fall apart to fit his body between them, and his hand slips beneath your last remaining undergarment soon after. Deft fingers that glide between your folds, ample pressure that has you gasping into his mouth for him to drink down and arching your back up to meet the firmness of his chest. Minho smiles against your lips as you do so, slowly and methodically unraveling you for his own viewing pleasure.

He pulls back, slinks down the length of your body and trailing his lips along the way. Warm, wetness circles at your chest before he continues further down.

Hands grip firmly into the plush flesh of your thighs, prying them apart for him just that much more. You glance down, but cannot stand to look at the sight of him; his face mere inches away from just the place that you wish for him to touch again. Minho does not leave you wanting, perhaps he cannot bear to do so, and his tongue finds you, mouth pressed flush against your own lips. The gasp that escapes from you is horrid, far too telling of how much you've been wanting to have him like this. 

Minho pulls off of you, but his dominant hand finds the place he has only just left instead. The wetness pooling is nearly humiliating if not for the comfort that you feel in his presence, and his fingers delicately trickle downward further, carefully driving into you. He watches your face as he takes you apart just that much more, but you do not have the sensibilities to muster up much for words.

"Do you like this?" he asks, the first words spoken since entering the room. The press of his fingers against you is slow, rhythmic, testing. Before you find it within yourself to respond, his mouth reattaches to the place just above where his hand works you open.

Yes falls away from you, though you're not sure how you've managed it. It appears to please him, however, and he continues on with a newly found enthusiasm. He pushes deeper, and a moan escapes you with every drive. A sheen of sweat collects atop your skin, strands of hair matted against you, fingers curling tightly into the sheets beneath your grasp.

Your skin prickles, warmth spreading across your body and muscles stiffening as he continues on. Breaths to take in become shorter and faster, the grind of your hips against the way that he works your body less and less within your conscious control. You slip a hand down between your legs, gently carding fingers through soft, black hair. His fingers curl inside of you, and as a result of it, so do yours atop his head. A whimper slips out from between your lips, and following immediately after, come the desperate pleads for him not to stop.

And he has no intention of doing so. Minho does not stop until your pleasure peaks and ravages your body within his hold. You shake and cry out; wounded gasps and moans that avalanche from you thoughtlessly, the only thing that you can manage through this feeling. Once satisfied, he slows to bring you back down gently, and once delicately seated, he removes himself from you and the bed entirely to finish the act of disrobing.

Chest heaving with exhausted breaths, you nearly miss his doing so, only alerted to the fact once the bed dips again, signifying his return to you. Minho crawls between your legs and up the length of your body just as he did the first time; kisses your chest, your neck, your jaw, only to then settle atop your lips. Teeth faintly find the bottom of your lip, already well and truly bitten raw from your own abuse. Still, you reach up to feel the warmth of his skin under your hands and revel in the way that his body feels against your own. Though release has found you once this evening, you are not truly satiated by him yet.

Minho's hand slips down between both of your bodies to hold himself in place. You feel him against you; wet and solid, enticing and teasing. You move almost involuntarily against him, hopeful to receive what it is that you desire from him now, but he is unwilling to relent to your neediness just yet.

You gasp lightly against his mouth, and Minho happily accepts it into his own, delighted by the way you come apart beneath him.

"Have you thought about it before?" he asks, a coy whisper shared only between lovers. A question that does not require further expansion, for you know precisely what it is that is being referred to.

"So many times," you reply.

At that, Minho begins the slow, precise drive of himself inside of you once more. "Apologies for keeping you waiting then."

He sinks into you, body accepting him with ease. Minho's mouth hangs slightly ajar as he does so, taken by the feeling, and settles momentarily once his hips meet flush against your own before his hips pull back and he repeats the process once more. The thick drag, hard and strong is dizzying and nearly disorienting to your senses—your fingernails dig into his skin, and for the first time, Minho groans with a sort of primal lust that has the hairs across your skin standing on end, and the fire inside of your abdomen burning just that much hotter than before.

With the ease in which your body accepts him, Minho is able to find a quick and strong rhythm. Harder and faster his hips find your own, the urgency needing this moment for so long finally coming to a head between the both of you. Your whimpers and moans echo off the walls, losing sight of the once prominent thought in your mind that the staff may hear you; instead, you beg and plead for more of him, anything that he is physically capable of giving you—he does.

Body tightening beneath him, you feel once again the familiar promise of release. Your hands glide over hot, damp skin; muscles that flex and move with every drive of himself inside of you. Minho kisses you—a sloppy attempt—but you meet it happily, and his face falls away to the crook of your neck to nip into the skin there. One, strong hand slips down to grip at your thigh, pulls you apart further and wider for him to work your body open with his own. Hard, methodical strokes; one after another, whimpers and whines punched out of you with each. You beg for more, continuously beg as if never satisfied, and Minho continues to give relentlessly to you until his own ability finally falters and gives way; rhythm shifting, failing, wavering. He hisses against your skin, choking out a pained groan, and you find your end just alongside him in bitten back cries and a final, deep sinking of himself within you.

Chests heaving and basking in the afterglow for many, long moments, he does not hurry to separate your bodies, and instead, his lips begin to work at the sensitive skin of your neck once again. You close your eyes to simply enjoy the feeling of this, of him, and hold tightly in your arms the man that has somehow come to be precisely what it is that you have always hoped for someone to become.

"Stay here tonight," he says quietly. "Don't go."

You smile, barely there. Mustering up all of the energy within your bones that you have left to expend and say, "I wouldn't dream of it."

𝕏𝕀𝕏.

The new year brings new cheer, as well as new prospects to the household.

It has been a year since you've been back to the city center, and though covered in snow and the dreadful darkness that winter brings, you feel some semblance of ease having returned.

You remember the days that you spent dreaming of being inside of these very same castle walls, though now that you're here, you can't help but feel as though they glitter less brightly than what it is that you had imagined.

Beside you, Minho stands with a forced and feigned confidence. He glances at you, perhaps having felt your eyes upon him, and offers a nervous smile that does nothing to placate your concern for him. Indeed, not all things change with ease—and some may never—but having the comfort of those who love you shouldering much of the burden instead. 

In arm, he holds a wrapped painting. One that you know well; a small ship atop a vast, brightly colored sea.

You hear the echo of doors opening from behind you, and when you turn, you are familiar with what you see.

Methodical clicks of shoes being the only thing that cuts through the silence, you watch as the prince makes his way towards the two of you—a smile on his face—and most certainly a genuine one. You've never known Hyunjin to be particularly petty, or mean-spirited; and despite all of his shortcomings, he likely does feel softness in his heart for you and the happiness that you have found.

"Your Highness," Minho says with an accompanying bow, but Hyunjin is quick to put a hand up and wave away the gesture.

"I do believe the three of us are well past the need for such things." Looking at you, Hyunjin smiles. "I see things worked out in the end, then?"

With half a mind to question how it is that he knows, you instead chalk it up to a sort of intangible, understood aura that simply exists between lovers; people who are madly, deeply in love with one another. You couldn't fight back the smile if you tried, and so, you don't. Instead, your hand finds Minho's free one, and you nod.

"Yes, indeed they have."

"Splendid news! Perhaps someday I will find myself to be so lucky," Hyunjin says, though there is a particular bite of discontentment in the words that you feel you understand far too well. "Nevertheless, you've brought the painting! I wish I could express in words how eagerly I've been anticipating receiving this piece…ever since it was put up into the auction, I simply knew I had to have it."

"I appreciate your kindness," Minho replies, squeezing your hand lightly. Just another, small offering shared between lovers.

"You will be paid handsomely for this. I am aware of what the asking was but I feel as though it is worth far more, and I'll see to it that you receive precisely that which you are deserving of."

Eyes widening in surprise, Minho glances first at you—but you merely shrug, unmoved by Hyunjin's antics—and instead, he defers to the prince, himself. "Your Highness, that's not—"

"Aht! It is. You creatives truly must value yourself higher, the world moves and exists and revolves around these crafts. Without art, we have nothing. We are nothing."

Hyunjin calls for his housestaff to take the canvas from Minho's grasp, and as they disappear down the hall, the man smiles widely at the two of you as if pleased with himself, with everything that has taken place today.

"Perhaps next in line is getting that book of yours published."

You shake your head, a sort of nervousness striking you that isn't commonplace. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea, you know, there is much of you written inside of those pages."

He waves his hand in the air again, unbothered by the fact. "So be it, I'd rather like being not just a part of history, but a part of art, as well."

"Strange fellow," Minho says, walking beside you through the city streets and long after having bid the prince farewell. "Not sure what it is that you ever saw in him."

The comment is pointedly comedic, and you judge him playfully with your elbow before responding in words. "He's handsome, and royalty. Suppose for a long time I didn't consider there to be much else outside of those things. What else could a man have to offer me?"

"As it would seem, only having one of those things is plenty to suit you," he jokes, slinging an arm up and around your shoulders as the two of you carry on. "You have been taken by my confusing whimsy and cumbersome charms."

"So it would seem," you reply, watching the sprinkle of shimmering snow collect atop a difficult, complicated head of black hair that you have incomprehensibly grown to love.

a/n: thanks for reading and i hope you enjoyed it! no pt. 2, and kind words are always much appreciated ♡

#lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee minho x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n

[bowieandqueen11]

Sanji And Reader Being Smitten With Each Other Would Include...

Request: Headcanons of sanji with a crush or s/o who is absolutely smitten? Like always glancing or looking at him. Probably got punched across a room in battle after admiring sanji. Literally always looks at him with heart eyes.

My love this is so sweet but honestly I feel like Sanji is exactly the same so I hope you don't mind Sanji being just as smitten with reader :)

Warning: slightly NSFW, mentions of smoking and mentions of blood/ injury!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @suuho.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

I mean look at Mr. Heart Eyes right here so let's just say that you're smitten? You're with the perfect man then because oh my goooossshh have you driven ZORO crazy with how infatuated the two of you are with each other. This poor swordsman has to spend 90% of his time barrel rolling you out of the way and diving in front of Sanji because you dopey dumbasses (affectionate in my case and derogatory in Zoro's) will just not. stop. gaping. at. each. other.

It all started when you agreed to escape the Germa Kingdom with your young princely friend; for many a year, since that fateful day he had literally walked face first into you while you were pretend playing pirates with some of your school chums in the marketplace, Sanji had been inseparable from you. Whether it was him sneaking out to find some solace in your welcoming home, or you trudging over the imposing walls of the palace so you could sneak down into the dungeons and hold a weeping Sanji's hand through the bar grates, you had been the one thing in his life since his mother's passing that had kept him sane.

And now here you were: worried eyes dampened by the torrential rain, but still peering over his face on that desolate rock the three of you ended up shipwrecked on. The whole eighty five days the two of you were stuck on that lonely side, with nothing but the unending stretch of unsultry gloam to keep you company, Sanji believed you were an angel sent to keep him safe. It was the way you shoved the crummy tins you had managed to shovel into your pockets while the ship was going down into Sanji's arms, shaking your head and pressing them further into his stomach as he began to protest. It was the lack of care you had for yourself, so intent you were with making sure he was doing as well as he possibly could: scooping murky water out of the crevices with your hands, just so you could run back and let it trickle down your fingertips and against his chapping lips. How some nights you hadn't slept a wink, too busy chasing away the growing whirlwind of seagulls that circled over your heads, diving down to try and peck at Sanji's burning legs. Making sure that he was tucked tightly under the overhanging edge of a crag, relinquishing the only bit of cover on this small island so Sanji could at least be a little sheltered from the constant downpour. Not only that, but you had even tried to comfort him: offering him a tired smile as you let your fingers shakily run through his hair and tuck away the stubborn curls behind his right ear.

He had held you against him then, as tightly as he could. Wracking with shivers, he couldn't quite figure out if it was due to the freezing cold wind that blew in from the North and snapped at his fingers, or the growing guilt that left him sniffling against your shoulder. It was so hard to focus on anything, with the sleet biting at his face, the imposing waves eating away at the stones beneath your feet. So he did the only thing his dispirited mind could still home in on: the one thing he would regret never doing, if he really were to wane away on this forsaken rock. He let his eyes flutter close, and he used the crash of lightening to mask his thundering heart as he tilted his head up and bashfully pecked your cheek.

For a moment, you thought it was just another hot splash of rain, until you caught sight of Sanji pulling away quickly and ducking his head in embarrassment.

'I-I don't know if we'll ever- well, I'm giving that kiss to you as a loan. I fully expect to get it back.' He managed to rouse some kind of meagre conviction in his hollow voice as he turned to watch your reaction; when he realised you weren't horrified, but instead were wide-eyed with shock as your pointer finger glazed over the wet mark left on your skin, he found himself hopeful for the first time in his life.

God, the two of you were both so gone. It was haunting, in its own beautiful way, as you gripped onto his hand and squeezed.

Far too many times has Zeff nearly blown the kitchen down with the amount of boiling smoke pouring out of his ears due to you two. It wasn't your fault that you had been assigned to the kitchen for your shift: Zeff should have known better, considering the exact same thing had happened yesterday... and the day before... and the year before that and so on, until your hand resembled more bandage than actual skin. You couldn't help it. It was just far too enticing- something so enchanting drawing your attention away from julienning your carrots to instead focus on the way Sanji's taut muscles rippled underneath his shirt as he sautéed. It was as if he had spellbound your eyes so they followed his form around, gladly taking in and making note of the idiosyncrasies you recognised from childhood: the way he still bites his bottom lip when he's really concentrating on stirring, the revulsion on his face as he absentmindedly unscrews a spice jar and takes a sniff, finding it to be oregano.

When you gash across your ring finger and start pooling blood onto the chopping board, though, is when the spell finally breaks and the shouting starts. 'Forth time this week!', he wags his finger at you. 'Forth time this week I've had to bloody throw out good equipment!'

'Was that seriously a pun?', Sanji asks, following on your heel like a swarming shadow as you hobble over to the sink. Zeff bites his tongue as Sanji shakes his head at him: this was an argument they had had far too many times. He had almost, almost resigned himself to the fact that Sanji would, and has, dropped the plates he was carrying to the floor with a resounding crash to run over and care for you. Thankfully, this was the perfect opportunity for Sanji to wrap gauze around your finger, before using an 'old fisherman's tale for healing grievous wounds' by peppering kisses against your knuckle to make you laugh.

Once, you were caught admiring him across your shared work station; the dishes stacking up to be washed were long forgotten as you spent ten minutes absentmindedly running your soapy sponge over the same plate, too busy letting your eyelashes flutter down to watch Sanji's skilful hands work. If you had let your gaze settle for just one more second, you would have seen Sanji raise his eyes to observe your face, lingering far too long on the rising curve of your Cupid's Bow. He bit his bottom lip, trying to stop the peach from flushing along his ears as he imagined how it would feel to swipe his tongue against your lips. When your eyes finally lock, the two of you end up so flustered about being caught that you both immediately go running off in different directions for your fifteen minute breaks.

It's not until the late evening, when everything is finally stowed away and only the late party-goers of the ship are still milling about by the bar that Sanji reappears. His head pops around the door like a surprised meerkat, rapping his knuckles against the office door and smiling as you kicked out the velvet stool next to you, beckoning him in. You drop the pen you were fiddling with when he magics the dish he had been working on earlier from behind his back, the heavenly aroma of your favourite childhood dessert overwhelming your senses as he settles next to you.

'I remember that this was your favourite, and-. Well, a sweet treat for a sweet treat, don't you think darling?'

You hum as you take the first bite, dragging the spoon along your bottom lip and throwing your head back in delight. Little did you notice the effect the warm, low vibration and sight of your plush lip dragging spit against the metal had on Sanji. He squirmed in his chair, swallowing thickly as he did his best to straighten his spine and look presentable: not like someone who was finding it harder and harder to hide the tingling feeling burning in his groin at the sight of you. God, just one noise and he was becoming undone.

He nearly cries out when you lean forward, so close he could nuzzle the tip of his nose against yours. God, does he want to. Instead he becomes slack jawed, eyes glazing over with pure want as you use your thumb and pointer finger to grip onto his chin. You tug down, opening his mouth and replacing the space with a fresh spoonful of his sweet dessert. He forgets how to breathe as he watches you glide the spoon out past his locked lips. It's only when you swipe away a little bit of cream left behind on his bottom lip line with your tongue, that he finally jolts. You just giggle, bringing the spoon back to your own mouth and sucking off the remnants of chocolate as Sanji does his best to stop his breath shuddering with soft squeaks.

His heart is about to spill out onto the floor: the trajectory of his life wrapped so firmly around the sweet twilight embrace of your tide that he would find it a pleasure to drown. You were his best friend. The love of his life. And he understands in that moment, with a realisation he could never unlearn, that he would go through every moment that led, every hardship, every bit of pain to get here again. He would do it all, if it meant he ended here with you.

But he only sighs and smiles fondly as you reach up to tuck that damn stubborn curl of hair back behind his ear again.

As soon as he made it back to his room, he slammed the door and fell back against it. With a hand thrown over his face, he groaned inwardly at how oblivious he had been. How much time he had wasted being afraid. But it was okay. He understood now. It had always been you. This. He was made more of you than he was of himself.

The next night, just after your shift, you find him leaning casually against the back door of the Baratie: his legs crossed out in front of him, watching the waves lap up serenely against the docks. His back rests against the shimmer of the bottle-green fish scales, making him seem almost other-worldly as the sun dips over his body. It fades from a warm yellow against his fringe, settling onto a melted honey running over his twirling cigarette, bowing with a crushed violet against his tapping heel.

You two have spent the last thirteen years endlessly circling each other's orbits without the eventual collide, that it didn't take long for you to find him. Tucking yourself against his shoulder, Sanji offers you a smile full of solace: an unspoken acknowledgement that he had been waiting out here for your arrival.

That despite all the hours and hours he had droned on about finding the All Blue, he wanted to be here with you - hell, he wanted to be anywhere with you. Even though he couldn’t find the right words to say it, still so unused to the daunting vehemence of requited love, it showed in the lift of his rose-tinted cheeks. In the flutters of the lines on his forehead. Sanji knew one thing in his life was certain, no matter how his future panned out: he loved you with every fibre of his being.

He grabs at your fingers, gently guiding them up to his lips. Pursing them, he places your fingertips around the mouthpiece and stares over the butt as he takes a final inhale, firm perch stopping you from getting away. As the stream of smoke floods out from the corner of his mouth, he allows you to pluck the cigarette away and toss it into the ocean.

'Y/n, I-', he starts breathlessly, turning his torso so he's giving you his undivided attention. He looks terrified - even more so when you quickly interrupt him by talking over his quivering confession.

'I have something to give back to you.' Your tone is so serious, Sanji's head bucks back in confusion.

'...Well, love. If you stole my apron again, don't sweat it.' He shoves his hands into his pockets, finding his courage draining away as you stare indiscernibly straight at him. 'Zeff has enough in the spare cupboard that we could dress up every Marine in a new uniform-'

'No, I mean- well', you shake your head and look up at the sky. 'I've been meaning to give it back for a long time now, but I guess delivery is pretty slow out in the middle of bloody nowhere', you laugh breathlessly, appreciating the way Sanji's worried eyebrow creases settle at the joke. You swear, golden treasures buried at the bottom of the ocean couldn't gleam as ferociously as Sanji's eyes do as he finally catches onto your meaning, his mouth dropping open.

His breath hitches in his throat, and his chin drops down to his neck in shock as you lean to your right and finally press your pliant lips against his own. Your fingers are quick to spread over his cheek, twirling through his loose curl once again as he falls against you; he almost crushes you with his full weight, but is quick to curve his spine and bow over you, little whimpers following his open mouth.

For a moment, as a thin trail of spit joins your brushing lips, Sanji has no idea how to react. Well, that is until he registers shock ripples delightfully lashing up his spine as you shove him back against the wall, his mouth falling open again in allowance for your tongue to lash in and fill the empty space: to suffocate his whines.

The look on the rest of the cooks' faces as the two of you come stumbling back in is priceless. The two of you really thought you had gotten away with it: if it weren't for the wall being shaken hard enough to rouse a Kraken from its slumber, and the slurred string of French curses and praises stuttering out of Sanji's lips and through the open door, you almost might have.

It's so worth it. Sanji just coughs into his clenched fist, fixing his lopsided tie and doing his best to use the flat edge of his thumb to try and wipe away some of the ruddiness from his swelling bottom lip. But when he slides his fingers in-between yours, a shy smile masked by a playful wink thrown back at you, do you know the two of you won't be able to keep your eyes (or your hands) off each other for the rest of the dining service.

When two of your 'charming' customers have a disagreement over their seating arrangements, you're too busy admiring how Sanji's thighs strain against his pressed trousers to see the trouble coming your way. It's only when one of them comes hurtling towards you and knocks you and your drinks tray ass over kettle that you become enraged. Before Sanji can even reach you to apologise, you've launched the customer off of you with a swift kick, managing to jab Sanji in the abdomen in the process. Doubling over, he falls on his face on top of you. I've got to be honest, neither of you are exactly complaining about your sudden arrangement. Once you've finished giggling and checking each other over, you realise that an inch lower, and short pant of Sanji's heaving breath against your breast and your lips would be brushing together.

The two of you would have turned into a tangled mess of heavy making out right there and then if Zeff hadn't come swinging out of the kitchen to see what all the ruckus was about.

Istg this poor man does his best to give the two of you jobs at opposite ends of the Baratie, only to nearly tug his braided beard out when a customer complains that their service is slow because, *surprise surprise*, the two of you are slacking off together. Either you're making heart eyes at him during as you wait in the main dining area, using any opportunity to grip onto the meat of his waist and slide past him with a poor excuse about 'needing to get clean menus' and making him shiver with a fresh rush of goose bumps, or he's finding you. Even when you were confined to working behind the bar, Sanji still manages to convince the other cooks that he so desperately needs the new delivery of brandy for his new profiterole recipe. Of course, he only does it so when he's on his knees lifting out the boxes, he can leave you a gasping, flustering mess. With clenched hands sending curls of shredded wood down on top of his hair, Sanji just presses his knees forward and pays no notice. He's too busy gliding his hands underneath your shirt, splaying them across your your back as he shoves his nose into your stomach. Although he's careful to stay hidden from the customers, he adores the sound of your clenched whines too much to stop himself. He rolls up the hem, ravishing you with a wet trail of kisses over the band of your trousers; his tongue runs welts over your skin as his teeth suck underneath your bellybutton, his left hand snaking down to rest on your leg so he can grip his thumb against the inner seam of your thigh.

It's only when the pad of his pointer finger presses a little too close to your clothed groin and you spill a drink over a customer that you both stop.

Once the two of you join Luffy's crew, you and Zoro seem to be the perfect team to drive Zoro up the wall. He likes you just fine, but you and waiter together being all lovey dovey makes him want to jump head first overboard.

What makes it even better is the fact that during the attack on Coco Village, you were too busy being proud of Sanji on his spectacular form and fighting technique that you and Zeff had spent years teaching him, that you don't notice one of the Fish-Men grabbing your collar. Before you can even gasp, you've been punched straight across the water and have knocked Zoro and three of the guys he was fighting down like a speeding bowling ball.

From then on, Zoro sleeps in the Crow's Perch and nowhere else. If he's not being knocked down, he's being left wincing as he trains with bruises gained from your elbow jabbed into his back. It's not your fault if you sneak in to cuddle in Sanji's hammock every night, and Zoro's face just happens to be inches away from yours. Sanji still has nightmares of your shipwrecked days from time to time, and just the pressure of your hand against his arm is enough to rouse him from whatever oblivion he was beginning to sink into. A warmth immediately spills through him as the two of you spend most of the night talking, reminiscing, sharing secret smiles between lingering kisses that leave the two of you giddy.

You're always up before him, letting him sleep in for as long as you can with a final, lingering kiss to his tense forehead. You wait for him in the kitchen, a warm cup of tea cupped between your hands, and a second one waiting for him on the counter as he sleepily wanders in to start breakfast preparations. It's become a comforting routine: you placing your head on your hand and talking idly as you admire him, keeping him company.

He knows, though. He knows what you're really waiting for. He happily obliges once the eggs have begun to sizzle, coming to rest on the bench in front of you. He grabs onto your back, pulling you onto his lap until you were straddling his waist. With languid blinks, he leaves soft kisses against the edge of your mouth as you grind against him, delighting in the hoarse groan that bobs his Adam's Apple. You tug the hair at the nape of his neck before scraping your nails over the skin apologetically, but what other way were you going to get him to open his mouth for you? Besides, the jumbled rush of French words that leave his mouth in a pealing string as you slide your tongue over his pulse point is the most heavenly sound in the world.

You're only disturbed by the sound of Luffy's yawn. For a moment, he just scratches the back of his neck and looks between the two of you curiously.

'Y/n, how come only Sanji gets a good morning hug! Can I have one too!'

'No!'

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