#“you raise your hands; try and command it; control it - but it just opens its maw and emits an otherworldly screech” hexcore vibes...

[hera1d]

CREATE A MONSTER AND I WILL SHOW YOU THE REFLECTION.

the unknowable.

what is this, this thing that you have summoned? created is not the right word, cannot be what you have done, for truly this being leapt out of you without much of your say-so. even as you stand there, it undulates and twists, its form a writhing mass of energy, glowing black. at once it shifts into a humanoid form, then something animal, then something... else, so alien that it hurts your mind to even contemplate it. you raise your hands, try and command it, control it - but it just opens its maw and emits an otherworldly screech that has you curling into a ball, hands over your ears, screaming your own pain and hearing the echo. when at last the noise has subsided, the thing is gone. you are alone. and for the first time, there is a hollowness in your soul that you cannot explain.

tagged by: @gonchayas ehe thank you (im in hell) tagging: if you've yet to do this, get to it NOWWW!

[partiallysame]

Ghost Gets No Bitches Part 2:

second part to THIS

Word count 1400

Content warning: suggestive, alcohol

When ghost finally texted you the message was something along the lines of: 

Hello. This is the man from (insert specific grocery store name followed by the exact address of said grocery store). 

You: Do I get to know your name or am I just supposed to call you Man From Grocery Store?

Ghost: Simon

Wow ok not a talker but we can work through that. Simon knew he should take you to a proper dinner but you made him so anxious he needed somewhere safe. Comfortable. Ah yes the closest bar to his base that he goes to almost daily. When you agreed to the date the panic really set in. He’s gonna be alone with you again (he ran to Price to ask for help on what to do. “You can’t wear the fucking mask” “but why?”)

The second Ghost got out of his car he noticed Soap had followed him to the bar (how could he not, Ghost had been sweating all day about meeting his lil lass again) “you walk in that bar and I’ll put a bullet in you, Mohawk”

“Aye come on. Jus wanna see a little more of the pretty bird that’s got ya all nervous”

 Soap knew he was bluffing about shooting him until Ghost pulled up his shirt enough to show his gun and the silencer attached to it. Yup ok he really would shoot him. Suddenly Soap is back in his car.

And then there you were, picture of perfection walking towards him. Big smile and small dress oh he was fucked. He opened the door for you and you let out a “good boy” as you walked through, an audible gulp came from him. Making your way to the bar to order, you told the bartender your drink, turning to ask Simon what he wanted only to find him standing 4 feet from you, scared to get too close. “Come here.” A command. One giant step and he was by your side. You moved closer until your shoulder was touching him. Control your breathing Ghost. “What do you want big boy?” You looked up at him and he should be embarrassed that you just called him that in front of his favorite bartender but he is definitely not. He said the beer he wanted and you added “two please. He’s nervous” the bartender was trying not to laugh.

“Tab Open or closed?” The bartender asked to which you quickly said open and began sliding your card over. 

“No.” Simon’s voice was deep and gravely and his sudden outburst caught you off guard. He may let you walk all over him but there was no way he, a gentleman would let you pay. 

You turned to him, eyebrows raised, “did you just tell me no?” Voice laced with genuine surprise and his eyes got wide, fuck was he in trouble? He nodded too afraid of how to properly respond but he continued to hand his card over and return yours to you. 

“You only get to tell me that once and that was it.” You scolded him as the barkeep slid the drinks over to you. You grabbed his two beers, one in each hand to hand to your date. He nodded again in response but did not miss the way your eyes were glued to his giant hands when he easily held the two bottles in one hand. 

Making your way over to a booth to sit, someone bumped into you, slightly spilling your drink down your hand. The man kept walking until a large (big sexy) hand grabbed his shoulder. Terrified apologies stumbled from his lips at the sight of Simon. But your hand quickly found its way onto Simon’s chest. 

“It’s not a big deal. Right Simon?” He looked down at you just in time to see you put your fingers in your mouth sucking the spilled drink from them. Christ’s sake woman. Your hand on his chest could feel his racing heart beat. 

“Not a big deal mate.” He let go of (pushed) the man as he watched you finish the walk to the table you wanted. He followed but when he got to the table he just stood there so awkwardly. 

“Simon, sit down. This is a date you know.” He’s sat. You decided that if he wasn’t going to talk then you wouldn’t either. You just sat there watching this giant muscle man fidget in his seat, emotional support beer being held so tightly in front of him. Your eyes taking in all of his features, pretty brown eyes and chiseled facial features. After however many minutes of silence (Simon squirming) you decided it was time for billiards. This is a bar after all. 

“Let’s go play” your head nodding to the empty pool table. The sudden sound of your voice made him jump. For goodness sakes man chill. He downed his second beer as he stood beginning to relax slightly. The bar was starting to get crowded so you reached for his hand before making your way to the table, pulling him behind you. You’re touching him. Fuck your hands are so soft, small compared to his. How would they look holding his…  A small and disappointed “oh” came from your lips as you neared the table. A group of men had gotten to it first but with a quick clear of his throat and deadly stare from Simon they gently handed you the cue ball. You turned to face him and god you were so close to him. He thought you holding his hand was bad? Now your chest is touching his. 

“Ready to lose?” You questioned batting your lashes at him, watching his pupils dilate. 

“I was gonna ask you the same.” You bit your lip at his response, excited to finally get somewhere with this man. There was a stare down for a few moments before you turned to begin the game. 

Were you bad at pool? No. Were you good? Also no. But Simon? Never missed a shot. No no this won’t do. Quickly realizing that you are losing (you only got one turn) you changed the game. Now you’re just standing at the edge of the table, looking pretty, moving the balls around with your hands, demanding trick shots. 

“Orange here to here then this pocket.” Hands pointing around before being placed palms down on the table, cleavage exposed and Simon can’t breathe. He does it and you praise him with another “good boy.” Two more planned shots and now you’re curling your finger, beckoning him closer. 

“8 ball. Corner pocket.” Simon begins to bend to line up his shot when you move so you are sandwiched between him and the table. Breathe Simon breathe. “Go on handsome.” Fuck ok he can do this. His large body easily envelopes yours, slowly bending at the waist and you are pushed down slightly, his chest pressed against your back. Your ass pressed exactly where you want it. Simon’s arms wrap around you to place his hand under the stick to steady it. You wiggled your ass back against his crotch and you could hear him stifle a groan. You can tell he’s trying to focus on the task at hand, but let's make it more fun. You turn your head until your lips are brushing against his jaw, sliding their way up to his ear and the whine that escapes this man at the contact. His hands glued to where they were placed on the table, too scared to move them where he actually wanted them.

“If you make this, you’ll get a reward.” You pressed your body into him more, feeling what was starting to form in his pants and you could feel the vibrations in his chest from a suppressed growl. “But.” you paused for a moment and he thought he was going to break the pool stick from holding on so hard. “But if you miss, your friend from the parking lot is allowed to come play too next time. So whats it gonna be?” You removed your lips from his ear, signalling him to take the shot. A breathy and accidental “fuck me” came from him as he lined up his shot. There was no way he was going to miss this, but when you added “thats the plan” after his last comment he missed the ball all together, pool cue scratching the green fabric on the table. He stood quickly cursing every god there ever was as you spun in his arms now face to face. Your arms reached up to wrap themselves around his neck. “What was his name again?”

Part 2.5 Part 3

[authorhjk1]

Idk if you saw but Yuri of SNSD posted a bikini pic, hoping we can get a sunbae series out of that or just a quickie one shot? She’s driving me nuts lol.

Shore leave

(Kwon Yuri X Julie X Belle X Natty X Haneul X Male Reader)

"Captain!"

You tear your eyes off the controls and turn around. Your XO is standing behind you.

"We've just reported back that our mission was a success. We will enter Honolulu Harbor within twenty minutes."

"Prepare to surface the boat."

"Aye, captain."

Jackson turns to his left.

"Chief of the Watch, blow main ballast tanks!"

The chief of Watch replies.

"Blow main ballast tanks, aye. Blowing main ballast tanks."

You start to walk towards the captain's cabin to finish your report. There is no need for you to be standing around the control room. The thirty man crew can do this while asleep.

"All ahead one-third, surface!"

"Raising the planes!"

"Clear the baffles!"

Opening the door, you look back into the control room. Jackson is standing at its center, overlooking everyone's actions.

"Periscope raised."

The man behind him, Miller, is making sure that it's free to surface.

"Surface is clear!"

You step inside and close the door behind you.

"Surface! Surface! Surface!"

Jackson's command is the last you hear as your submarine is about to see daylight once more.

Stepping foot on land feels odd after forty days underwater. You try to walk as normal as possible, while your crew follows you off the boat. A group of soldiers walk in your direction.

"Captain."

The man salutes you and you do the same.

"Major."

He extends his hand for you to shake.

"Happy birthday, old man."

"Thank you."

You laugh, happy to see him again for the first time in years.

"You and your crew deserve some rest while you're here."

He hands you a couple black cards, which look like key cards to hotel rooms.

"You should stay at a fancier place than the barracks. Order from the lieutenant colonel."

"I appreciate it. Please give him my thanks."

"I will. Now get out of here."

The two of you pat each other's shoulder, before you keep walking.

"Skipper."

You acknowledge lieutenant Kang's presence. The young man is barely 22 years old, but his career has been impressive so far. The worst thing about him? He found out that you used to listen to kpop.

"Have you talked to the major yet, sir?"

"I did."

The two of you walk in silence, while the crew walks after you, until Kang can't hold it in anymore.

"Did he give me permission to-"

"He did. But you have to behave yourself, lieutenant. No drinking, no fights, or any other way to get yourself into trouble."

You know that he has a short temper. But you trust him not abuse your trust.

"Everyone is on leave. And you're allowed to go to their concert."

"Thank you, sir."

You sigh as you reach the car that the major has left for you. Most of your men will head to the barracks. You, Jackson and Miller all got a room at a hotel, being the highest ranking officers on board. And you're letting the young lieutenant tag along.

After checking in, you decided to head to the hotel's pool. Being trapped in a steel cage several miles underwater with thirty men can get on your nerves. And since it's your birthday, you're more than happy to relax and clean your body. Although the number one reason to why you're not in your room, taking a well deserved nap, are the women. You don't remember the last time you talked with a woman for over ten minutes within almost a year. Living in your barracks, training younger soldiers and going on missions that take more than a month, don't leave you with a lot of free time. And the last months had been stressful and draining.

You realize that there aren't many empty deck chairs left as you make your way through the rather crowded area around the pool.

"Skipper!"

You turn your head to see Jackson, who is already sitting on one of the chairs. Miller is sitting to his left, while one on the right still seems to be empty. Skipper is usually not the term captains are addressed with, and some would tell them to shut the hell up, but you're easygoing. At least on land, when you're not on a mission. As long as your men know that you're in charge, you don't really care what they call you.

"Well, you guys came out here really quick."

"Forty days. I need some sun, sir."

You smirk at Miller's complaint, before getting comfortable on the empty chair.

"Do you know how long we have, until we get going again?"

You shake your head at Jackson's question.

"I don't. But I know what our next mission is about."

The two men don't ask for more information, knowing full well that you're not gonna tell them in a public area like this one.

"Let's hope we can relax a little longer than last time."

"Agreed."

You close your eyes, while you listen to the two men chatting.

"I like it here. The weather is nice."

"Just the weather?"

When you open your eyes again, you realize that you've fallen asleep. Quickly looking to your left, you don't see Miller or Jackson.

"Bastards."

You mumble, knowing what they're up to. The three of you have been become good friends over the years. It would surprise you, if they weren't out and about right now, looking for a bar to take you to later today.

"Excuse me?"

You turn to your right, only now realizing that someone is sitting there.

Her face is hidden by her bucket hat and her sunglasses. But it's not her face you're focused on right now anyway. Your eyes quickly scan her barely clothed body. Her white bikini matches the bucket hat. Even without seeing her face, you can tell how beautiful she is.

"I apologize. I wasn't talking to you. I just realized that my friends ran off without me."

"Those are some great friends you have."

"Well, I can't blame them. I already overheard them talking about a party this morning."

"Oh a party? What's to celebrate?"

"It's my birthday today."

"Congratulations. I hope you have a great year."

"Thank you. It would already improve my year quite a lot, if I knew your name."

You see her chuckle at your attempt to flirt with her. She hesitates for a moment, before she answers.

"Yuri. Kwon Yuri."

"Nice to meet you."

You reach out your hand and she shakes it as you tell her your name.

Hers does sounds familiar, but you can't really tell.

"Are you here on vacation as well?"

You shake your head at her question.

"Not exactly. Me and my crew are just having a shore leave, while we wait for our next mission."

"Oh, you're in the military?"

"I am. Navy."

"Oh, that's so cool. Do you work on one of those big ships that are lying in the harbor nearby? I walked past them yesterday."

"No, I'm the captain of a submarine. We only got here a couple hours ago."

"Submarine? You don't hear that everyday."

You try to steer the conversation in another direction. There isn't much to talk about when it comes to your job anyways. At least not something you're allowed to talk about.

"So you're here on vacation?"

You haven't had the pleasure of sleeping with a woman for way too long. And you have to admit it's getting harder to restrain yourself. If your lucky and Yuri is down for something more than just talking...

"I am. I've been working a lot recently and thought I would take a break, now that my project is done."

"Your project?"

"I'm an actress."

"I'm actually not surprised to hear that. It would be a shame if someone beautiful like you didn't show her face on TV."

You bite your lip, knowing that you're going a little fast here. But if this the opportunity you were hoping for, you're definitely going to take it.

"Thank you. Although I like to think that I got this far because of my skills. Not because I'm pretty."

You nod in understanding.

"That's true. Have I seen you in anything? Or have you just started acting?"

"I've been doing this for a while, but I doubt you've seen me before."

"Okay, then. What genre do you usually do? Action? Romance?"

"I played a love interest of the male lead for my last project."

"Damn. Now I'm jealous of the guy who played him."

Yuri laughs, covering her mouth with her hand.

"You can't keep complementing me like this."

"Why not? I haven't seen a woman in over a month. I have to get everything out of my system at some point."

"Well, there are a lot of beautiful women here. I think you're being a little unjust by only giving me your attention."

Her smile tells you that she doesn't really mind at all. You make a point of looking around the area and the pool.

"Nope. I think I'm talking with the most beautiful woman here, right now."

"You can't stop, can you?"

Her amused smile makes you smile too.

"Like I said, I need someone to let this all out on."

You didn't expect Yuri to slightly bite her lip at your words. And then you realize that one could take your words in a different way.

"You really seem to be in need of some.... release."

You clear your throat.

"But you can keep going of course."

Yuri takes off her sunglasses and now smiles at you with her eyes as well. You already knew she was beautiful, but this is on another level. At the same time, you do feel like you've seen her before. Maybe in a movie?

"It's not like I don't like it..."

"I need more."

Yuri gives you a happy and proud smile, before you capture her lips once more. You pin her against your hotel room's door. The two of you engage in another kiss. It's filled with passion and lust. You've been waiting for this for months. You don't know the last time Yuri got off. But judging from how hard she is kissing you back, you guess that it has been a while for her too. Or she's just turned on as hell.

Your hands leave her waist and start to explore her exposed skin. Yuri yanks off her bucket hat and throws it behind you. Her hair is a little more messy now as her own hands roam your body. While one of yours trails along the strings of her bikini towards the knots on her back, one of hers uses a finger and slowly travels down your spine, giving you goosebumps. Your second hand is lazily drawing circles on her flat midriff before it playfully tugs at the strings right beneath her chest. Her other hand mirrors your circles, but on your chest. You can feel her paying extra attention to your large tattoo, which she looked at earlier a little too long.

While you keep your lips locked with hers, you start to slowly undo Yuri's knots on her back. She draws along the lines of your tattoo. A big anchor. An equally sized dragon is winding itself around it.

Once you are finished with the first knot, you feel Yuri's breath shake a little as you both give each other a second to breathe. But soon, you're back at it again. Her hand, previously on your back, is now on your hip as she plays with the waistband of your trunks. Another knot follows the first.

You are getting bolder, now that she allowed you to undo her bikini. You let your hands travel along her waist and up to her chest. Yuri breaks the kiss as she feels your hands over her top. You give her tits a squeeze, making Yuri let out a moan. She has a smile on her face again, her arms now loosely placed on your shoulders. Her head slowly rolls back as you keep kneading her soft mounds.

"Your hands feel great. I love it."

Yuri now lets her own travel down your figure, until they're reach your trunks once more. You reach behind her and finally undo her top, before slowly taking it off her. Taking in the sight of her tits, you stay in place for a moment. But then you feel Yuri undo the tie on the front of your boxers agonizingly slow. You finally look into her eyes. She stares back at you as her fingers do their work.

Once she is done, you feel her thumbs glide between your skin and the waistband. Slowly she pulls them down. Around halfway past your hips, your trunks fall to the floor on their own. Yuri has a satisfied smile on her face as she looks down on you.

After you'd taken off her bottoms too, there wasn't much time or need for foreplay. You led Yuri to your bed, where you lied down and had her lie on top of you. Now you're enjoying yourself, tasting her delicious pussy, while you feel her soft lips glide up and down on your shaft. The position enables you to freely do with her lower half what you want to. You knead her full cheeks and pull them apart occasionally, while you let your tongue glide along her labia, before sucking on her clit. Yuri's moans are almost silenced by your dick in her mouth, which sends shivers up your spine. You feel her hands on your thighs and as she picks up the pace, it almost seems like she is fucking her face onto your cock. Just the thought of that makes you put in even more effort.

Soon, they both of you have made a mess of each other. You can't help but groan into her pussy, whenever Yuri takes you as deep as she can. And Yuri moans and sometimes let's her fingernails glide over your thighs, whenever you let your tongue flick against her clit.

When you both feel the increasing need to finally be as intimate as possible, Yuri momentarily gets off you, before turning around. Her face gets closer to yours once more as she sinks herself down on you. Her soft mounds press against your chest, you feel her nipples rub against your skin. But that's not the best part. The best part is the way Yuri's tight snatch slowly takes you inside. It leaves you breathing a little faster, her wet lips wrapping themselves around your shaft as tight as possible. A satisfied smile lingers on Yuri's lips as she leans down to kiss yours. She is now lying flat on top of you. Her hands are playing with your hair, while yours rest on her lower back, occasionally darting out to give one of her cheeks a playful squeeze.

The two of you take it slow, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness. You were afraid you wouldn't last long at first, but the slow love making enables you to go longer than you expected. Yuri barely moves on top of you, slightly circling her hips, making your cock move inside of her. The two of you share one kiss after another. Her fingers comb through your hair. And she gives it a slight tug, whenever you hit the right spot inside of her. Yuri's breasts are pressed against your chest, her nipples rubbing against your skin.

Having your hands on her cheeks, you carefully start to move her back and forth. It brings more motion into the two of you. Yuri's lips find yours once more, while she lets out a moan, feeling her pussy glide along your cock. The more you make her move, the better it feels for the both of you. Your fingers begin to dig into her flesh and Yuri leaves a bite on your skin here and there. Looking up at her, you see her eyes are only half open, her eyelids heavy with pleasure.

"Oh my god."

Yuri lets out a loud sigh into your neck. It's the first time she spoke, since she took you inside. You feel her moving on her own now, so you let your hands travel along her back. Her hair is covering the both of you right now, serving as a makeshift curtain as it blocks out the sunlight.

Closing your eyes, you just enjoy the moment. How Yuri moves herself along your body on top of you. How her pussy glides along your shaft, her wet walls squeezing every inch. How her nipples move over your skin. How her moans reach your ear, whenever she doesn't lock her lips with yours.

"Yuri..."

You took too long. Focusing on the moment, feeling this gorgeous woman on top of you. You realize there is no turning back, the moment you open your eyes. Yuri bites her lower lip, looking down on you. She nods, giving you permission to finish what the two of you started.

You quickly reach down her back, your arms wrapping around her lower back, right above her ass. Instinctively, you let your legs slip out from underneath her and raise them, burying your heels into the mattress.

"Oh wow."

Yuri lets out a gasp. To her it feels like you just gained another inch. You start to fuck her now. A little faster than she moved before. Her arms now lying next to your shoulders, supporting her weight as she pushes her upper body higher. You can't stop yourself. Taking in the sight of her beautiful tits right in front of you, you fuck Yuri harder. She can't help but smile down on you, flattered by the way you seem to love every single part of her body.

"Yuri..."

You sigh her name once more. Yuri let's out a moan herself a moment later. She feels your cock twitching inside of her. You raise your hips a little higher, which makes you lift hers too. More and more of your cum invades Yuri's tight cavern, making her head sink onto yours once more.

The two of you stay in place, even after both of you have calmed down. Yuri is still lying on top of you. She has moved a little further down though to be able to comfortably place her head on your chest. Her toned midriff is pressed against your cock. You feel her fingers trace over your tattoo once more.

"You know...."

Yuri starts to talk after a while.

"My room is two floors higher. 5003. Just in case you..."

You crack a smile, your hand slowly stroking her hair.

"I will keep that in mind."

"Are you telling me that everyone is coming?"

You sigh, already knowing that this night will not end well. You expected the three guys to throw you a low profile party at a bar. Just the four of you.

"Yes, everyone. Plus, everyone else who is at the barracks and gets to go out tonight."

"Oh that's just great. How many men is that?"

Miller shrugs his shoulders.

"Fifty?"

You give him a disapproving glare. Now you wish you'd have stayed longer in bed with Yuri.

"Oh come on. They all love you. You know you have a reputation, right? No failed mission? Highest success rate?"

"So?"

Miller leads you down a long street which is taking you further to the beach.

"That doesn't mean I have to like that you invited fifty people."

"Relax, skipper."

He gives you a pat on the shoulder as you two reach the bar the three of them found earlier today. Looking to your right, you see the sunset. The sea is coloured in a beautiful orange. You'd have loved to take a moment and take in the view. You haven't seen a sunset in over a month. But Miller destroys your plan by opening the door. Music and shouts invade your ears. You walk inside, followed by Jackson, Miller and Kang. Most of the tables, around 10, are filled by men in uniforms, while two are occupied by other guests. One group looks like tourists, while the other makes you look at four gorgeous faces. Even after you were able to have sex with Yuri, you can't help but glance at the four girls a second longer. They all look significantly younger than you, with the girl on the far right looking like she just got fresh out of high school.

"Captain!"

One of the men spotted you and is now standing up. The laughter and chatter dies down. The other soldiers follow his example. You wait until everyone is standing. You hear Miller's voice behind you.

"Told you. Reputation."

You sigh as you look around. It seems like some of the men already had a couple of drinks.

"At ease."

As everyone sits back down, you notice how the group of tourists and the four girls all look very surprised by what's going on.

Suddenly, you hear Jackson groan in annoyance and you quickly realize why. There aren't any empty seats. Or rather, the only empty seats left are the ones at the table of the four girls. You see Miller stepping towards the nearest table, probably to get you a place to sit, but you grab his shoulder.

"It's fine. I was hoping for a relaxed night anyway."

The four of you walk through the bar and past some of the tables. Some of the men greet you individually, raising their glasses, or congratulating you.

"Hi. Are these empty, or are you waiting for someone?"

"No, they're empty. Please."

One of the girls spoke and is now gesturing towards the empty seats. You walk around the table and sit against the wall, next to the girl who looks the youngest. Jackson joins you on the bench, while the other two sit opposite from you.

You take one more look around the table. You can tell the girls are a little shy to restart their conversation now. The girl next to the youngest tugs her short black hair behind her ear, before taking a sip of her drink.

The girl across from her is the one who invited the four of you to sit down. You can't help but stare at her lips for a moment as she finally says something to the girl next to her. You can't understand it, but it sounds like Korean.

The girl she is speaking to is sitting next to Miller. She looks cute. Not as cute as the girl next you, but still kinda adorable. She seems to answer the other girl, before she takes out her phone.

When the waitress reaches your table, the four of you order. The girls seem to have picked up their conversation. At one point it looks like the girl next to you asked a question. A question none of them seems to have the answer too. You're surprised when Kang suddenly says something in Korean. You've noticed that he has been unusually quiet this entire time. You can't blame him. The four girls are stunning. But somehow it seems like something else has held him back so far.

The girls are surprised by Kangs answer. They probably didn't expect him to understand them.

Haneul's cheeks burn red with embarrassment. Why is he only saying now that he knows Korean? Her worried face glances at the man next to her. The man who seems to be in charge. She didn't expect anyone to understand her, apart from her members, when she admitted she found him hot, barely four minutes ago.

She was already afraid that he had caught her glancing at him from time to time. But now, she has to worry that his friend will tell him what she said. Haneul bows her head and thanks the man who spoke Korean, hoping he won't say anything. The other girls already teased her enough about her confession.

When the waitress comes back and placed the drinks in front of the soldiers, Haneul can feel how the man next to her relaxes further. He spreads his legs wider to get more comfortable. Now hers touch his. She can't help but bit her lip at the seemingly innocent connection. She isn't as bold as Julie or Natty, who would've placed their hands on his thigh and flirted with him. She hates herself for that. Haneul knows she needs to at least practice. Talking to her fans is easy. So why can't she do that with strangers as well?

"I'm surprised you know Korean."

Haneul looks up at Julie's words, which were directed at the man who answered her question.

"My parents are Korean. It's like my first language."

"Ah, that's cool."

"I have to admit, I'm a fan of you, girls. I'm going to the concert tomorrow."

"Oh, that's amazing."

Natty seems genuinely happy. While the three girls deepen the conversation with their fan, Haneul glances at the man next to her once more.

"Oh, fuck!"

Her inner self screams when he suddenly locks eyes with her. Haneul doesn't know if she should look away or not. But he smiles at her. And turns a little towards her.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Haneul."

Haneul gives you one of the cutest smiles you've ever seen. And the words slip out of your mouth, before you can think about them.

"You have a beautiful smile."

As the night deepens, you step outside, feeling the cold night air on your face. Haneul is walking out behind you. After her come Jackson, Miller and Kang and the other girls. It was one of them, Julie if you remember correctly, who suggested all of you should go for a walk on the beach.

You got to know all four girls quite well, who seem to be in a kpop group called kiss of life. They are all charming and beautiful, but it seems like you and Haneul have hit it off very well.

The two of you continue to talk as you walk past the palm trees and finally reach the sand.

"This is so beautiful."

Haneul can't fight the urge to take a couple of pictures of the star glazed night sky.

"It is."

You look at her and Haneul seems to catch on as she lowers her phone and turns to you. Her shy smile makes you chuckle, before you focus back on the stars.

"Haneul... Your name means sky, right?"

She looks at you in surprise.

"You speak Korean?"

"A little."

"Oh, you should've told me earlier."

You see her biting her lip and her cheeks slightly becoming darker. Is she embarrassed about something?

You hear laughter behind you. The two of you turn around. You roll your eyes as you watch Miller kissing one of the girls.

Haneul lets out a gasp as she sees Julie and one of the soldiers exchange a kiss. His hands are on her waist and Julie's are on his shoulders. Haneul is embarrassed, but at the same time, she is glancing at you, wondering how it would feel like to kiss you. Then she sees Natty and your other friend laugh together, arms locked. She watches how he slowly leans down, capturing the Thai girl's lips with his own.

You can tell Haneul has gotten more nervous over the last ten seconds.

"We don't need to do what they're doing, if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Huh?"

Haneul turns to you, her eyes wide open. You hesitate, but it seems like she does want you to kiss her. You place a hand on her shoulder and eventually lower it a little. Further and further, until you reach her small waist. Haneul's eyes are glued to yours the whole time. But you catch them darting down to your lips from time to time.

Once your hand is on her waist, you pull her closer. You press her body against your own and you can feel her perky tits rub against your body, right underneath your chest. Leaning down, you see Haneul closing her eyes.

She seems so different from Yuri. Maybe it's her age or inexperience. But it doesn't make her any less attractive.

Your lips meet and you have to admit that Haneul's lips feel softer than you thought they would. You let your hand slowly wander over her back as you deepen the kiss. Haneul melts into you, her own hands pulling slightly at your shirt.

"Look at those two lovebirds."

Your kiss is interrupted by Julie's cheeky remark. You realize that you and Haneul have been standing like this more than a couple of seconds. For you, it felt like a short moment. But the other six are all looking at you.

"We are waiting for your answer, skipper."

"For what?"

You seem to have missed the question. A proud but shy smile appears on Haneul's face.

"Are you okay with all of us heading to the nearest hotel?"

You wonder why they're asking. They could just take off. It's not like they're on duty or something. But then you catch how Natty is casually leaning against Jackson, while her hand seems to be placed on Miller's back. While Kang, despite having his hands on Belle's waist, seems to exchange a knowing smile with Julie.

Their plan quickly dawns on you and you look down at Haneul. By now, you're pretty sure that Haneul wouldn't oppose to a night together. But, even if you have to share, the idea of being able to be with all four of them almost makes your head spin.

"What do you say?"

Despite the darkness, Haneul's cheek are laced with a darker red than ever before.

"I-I wouldn't mind."

The way to the hotel room was uneventful. You could tell Haneul was still nervous, but you managed to calm her down by taking her hand in yours while you walked. The receptionist raised an eyebrow when you told her all eight of you would share a room for the night. But she didn't say anything and just gave you the key card to a slightly bigger room.

Now you sit on the edge of the bed, looking down on Haneul. She is fumbling around with your belt. Miller is sitting on your left with Julie kneeling in front of him. The other four are on the other side of the bed behind you.

You can't help but watch as Julie opens her mouth and takes Miller's cock into her mouth. She is definitely more experienced than Haneul, who only got your pants off now. You catch her hesitating, but a moment later, she pulls your boxers down as well. Her wide open eyes are focused on your cock. She slowly opens her mouth as well. Reaching out, you take her cheek in your hand, encouraging her. Haneul's eyes smile up at you as her pretty lips close around your tip.

Your head rolls back as you feel her tongue moving around. You're so glad you and Yuri had fun earlier today. Otherwise, Haneul's cute face would've made you cum right there.

She lets her tongue dance around for a moment, before pressing it underneath your cock. You feel her taking more of you inside her mouth. On instinct, your hand moves up to the top of her head. You can't help but stroke her hair as Haneul does her best to pleasure you.

"Good girl."

You groan, when you feel her sucking on your cock properly. You expected her to have no experience at all. But it seems like Haneul does know just enough.

You glance to your left once more as you hear someone choking. Julie has placed her hands flat on Miller's thighs and is almost face fucking herself onto his cock.

Haneul can feel that you got harder by looking at those two. She takes a deep breath and then lets her lips glide further down your shaft. The younger girl can't compete with Julie, but you're more than happy with what she is doing. You reach behind her to hold her hair back, focusing only on Haneul.

"You're doing great."

You can't help but praise her. She looks so cute, while she sucks you off.

Haneul places her hands on your thighs as well and looks up at you. Almost as if she's asking for permission. You nod, curious to see what she's going to do.

"Damn."

You groan when you feel her throat tighten around you as she pushes her head down further. She quickly begins to cough and choke. Haneul's spit starts to leave her mouth. It gets all over your cock, your lap, her shirt and her thighs. But she tries to keep going, bobbing her head up and down.

"Don't close your mouth, open it wide."

You almost jump when you hear Julie's voice right next to you. She is kneeling next to Haneul, her arm stretched out as she keeps jerking off Miller's wet cock.

Haneul retreats, letting your own cock fall out of her mouth.

"Relax your throat when you first take all of it. It makes it easier."

Haneul listens closely to Julie's words.

"Like this."

Your hands dig into the sheets as Julie suddenly decides to deepthroat you. You can feel how she is forcing her jaw open wide enough to take all of you inside. Haneul watches in awe as the other girl bobs her head up and down. Julie doesn't even choke this time, her throat relaxed enough to take it all.

You notice how she still doesn't stop stroking Miller's cock. From behind you, you hear Jackson groan something.

You have to distract yourself like this, not wanting to cum early. Julie is doing an amazing job and now backs away to give Haneul another chance.

The younger girl tries to imitate Julie and takes most of your cock inside her mouth at once. You feel how she is able to take more now, her throat almost greedily sucking on your cock.

"That's it."

Julie smiles at her, before letting go of Miller's cock. She spits into her hand and wraps it around his length once more, making sure her saliva is all over shaft.

Haneul has now lifted her once more, letting her lips glide along your length.

"You're doing great."

Julie pats the back of Haneul's head. When she looks up at you, the older girl gives you a seductive wink. Before you can react, Julie pushes Haneul's head down, deep into your lap.

"Take it all, baby."

Her voice is still sweet and carrying, but her hand on Haneul's back makes the younger girl choke and gag.

And then, Julie uses Haneul's mouth to jerk you off. She lifts her head up and down, making her lips glide along your cock.

You barely notice that Miller is now standing next to Julie. She's sucking him off once more, but making sure she is fucking Haneul's face onto your cock at a steady pace.

You feel bad for Haneul. But at the same time, you can barely hold it together. Her tight throat just feels so damn amazing. The way her whole mouth almost takes in all your cock. The way her saliva gets everywhere. The way she gags whenever your tip hits the back of her throat.

You sigh in relief when Julie lets go off Haneul's head and focuses back on Miller. Haneul takes you in deep a couple of times more, before she finally backs away. Her big eyes and the strings of her saliva connecting her lips with your cock make her look so cute but sexy at the same time.

You reach out and wipe the spit off her lips. To your surprise, Haneul sucks on your thumb in return.

"Get on the bed."

You guide her to her feet and make her lie on her back. She watches you as you now undo her shorts. Glancing behind her, you can see how Natty is giving Jackson a titjob, while Belle is giving Kang head too.

But you focus back on Haneul as you pull her pants off of her.

You push the small piece of fabric that is covering her pussy to the side, exposing her snatch.

Haneul gasps when she feels your lips touch her thighs. She expected you to head straight for her core, but you tease first. It only takes you a couple of kisses, before her eyes silently beg for you to pay attention to her pussy.

You take both her thighs in your hands, spreading them apart so you have enough room. You kiss her right next to her lower lips, making her sigh in frustration. When you finally do let your tongue glide along her lips, Haneul's head rolls back. Her eyes close and her hands grab the sheets as you begin to eat her out.

The young girl's moans echo through the room. She occasionally lets out a small squeal or sigh whenever you suck on her clit. By now, one hand has moved to your head as she is slightly pulling at your hair, trying to get your tongue deeper inside of her. The other covers her mouth as Haneul tries to reduce the volume of her moans. She doesn't want to be the loudest in the room. Embarrassment is still colouring her cheeks.

But she doesn't have to worry much, when she hears Julie moaning shamelessly next to her. Miller is lying next to Haneul on his back, while Julie is riding his face. The older girl throws her head back and grinds against him, while his hands hold her waist.

Haneul almost jumps when Natty's face suddenly appears above her head. Jackson made her get on all fours on the bed and is now eating her out from behind. Natty basically moans into Haneul's face. The younger girl can't help herself. The Thai girl just looks so amazingly hot like that. She reaches upward with her free hand. Natty gladly follows Haneul's guidance and lowers her head. The two girls share one deep kiss after another.

As they both loose themselves in the sea of pleasure, Natty's limps grow weak. She gets lower and lower as they break their kiss. Finally, Natty is almost lying on top of Haneul. The younger girl's face meets Jackson's. She hesitates, but eventually she captures his lips with her own. She can taste Natty's juices.

You do the same with the Thai girl. You share a deep kiss with her, while she slowly inserts a finger into Haneul's pussy. The younger girl moans louder now, but you pull away and stand up. Natty follows your movements and invitingly opens her mouth. You push your cock past her lips.

Looking past her, you see that Jackson is doing the same with Haneul. While the two girls lie on top of each other, they give the two of you head.

"Damn."

You groan, acknowledging how skilled Natty is. She definitely did this more often than Haneul. You feel her tongue doing all kinds of tricks as she keeps her lips sealed around your length. You place a hand on top of her head and give her mouth shallow thrusts.

As you use Natty's mouth, you watch Julie, who keeps riding Miller's face. Seems like she got a hold of the lieutenant as well. Kang is standing on the bed, right in front of her. One of Julie's hands is wrapped around his length, while her lips are sealed around his shaft as well. Her other hand is entangled in Miller's hair.

Wait, where is Belle?

She catches your eye as she slowly crawls over the bed towards you. Just when she's about to reach you, you reach for her face, pulling her up by her chin. Belle smiles at you, before the two of you share a kiss. It doesn't last long, because Belle now reaches down to have a taste of your cock as well.

Natty starts to moan all over your cock when Jackson slowly pushes his cock inside of her. You watch her eyes roll as she suddenly finds herself trapped between the two of you. When Jackson pushes forward, he basically makes her take you down her throat. Belle makes sure that even your base is cared for, while Natty becomes helpless.

Belle suddenly gasps in surprise when Miller reaches around her waist and pulls her body towards him. Julie is already an all fours while Kang fucks her from behind. The older man now puts Belle into the same position. But instead of fucking her, you catch how he starts to eat her ass. The younger girl quickly turns into a moaning mess. Her and Julie both exchange one kiss after another.

Looking down on yourself again, you notice how Natty is starting to drool all over Haneul's beautiful pussy. It now looks so wet and so good, you can't help yourself. You almost have to push Natty's head off your cock for her to leave you alone. Now her moans are louder. You reach down and place two fingers on Haneul's clit. You feel her jump at the sudden touch, but when you start playing with her, you hear her moan as well.

"Damn, Natty. Haneul is such a tight girl."

"Yeah, she is. Such a tight cunt."

You make Natty watch as you slowly penetrate Haneul's glistening folds. The older girl keeps drooling all over the younger girl's pussy, coating your cock in her saliva as well.

"Does she feel good for you? Is she being a-"

A particularly hard thrust leaves Natty speechless for a moment.

"Is-Is she being a good little girl for you?"

"Yes, she is."

You take a hold of Natty's chin and make her look up at you.

"You like it when your friend is a slut?"

She eagerly nods, another moan leaving her mouth.

"Do you want to see how I use her tight pussy like a fleshlight?"

You talk a little louder, making sure Haneul can mentally prepare herself.

"Yes, yes, yes. Fuck her like the slut she is."

As Natty talks, you feel Haneul's legs close around you in conformation. It seems like the younger girl has lost all of her shyness by now.

You properly take a hold of her thighs and start to fuck Haneul's pussy. A moment later, you hear a string of moans and whines leave her lips. You watch how Jackson momentarily pulls out of Natty and thrusts down into Haneul's wide open mouth. You doubt the young girl has ever had two cocks inside of her at once. The two of you alternate between both of their mouths and pussies, turning the two of them into begging messes.

"Are you really going to-Oh god!"

You glance to your right as you hear a loud yelp. Belle is now on top of Miller, who is sitting on the bed. Her feet are planted on his thighs, her hands are holding onto his wrists. His own hands are on her waist.

"You're so big, oh god!"

He makes Belle take his cock into her ass. Slowly at first, before he starts to pick up the pace a little. You can't help but notice how good her pussy looks as well. Not as good as Haneul's to be honest though.

You don't really remember how you ended up in this position. After Haneul, you do remember being inside of Julie and the Belle. Now, you're lying on the bed and Haneul is on top of you. She's facing you, her hands on your chest, supporting her weight. To your left, the other three couples have gotten into the same position. The three guys and you are all lying down, while the four girls are each riding someone. At some point, the four of them all got into the same rhythm. They all lift themselves upwards and then impale themselves on their partner below at the same time.

"I-I think I'm gonna...."

Haneul's voice gets cut off when your cock is finally too much for her. You could tell she's kept it in for a while now, just to be on the same level as the other three. But now she finally becomes undone, shaking on top of you. Her snug pussy twitching around your cock. You hold onto her waist, making sure she doesn't fall down.

The next one to go is Belle. She is riding Jackson, who's lying next to you. With a loud gasp, she joins Haneul in her orgasmic state. When Haneul finally calms down, she looks at you.

"I-I need a break."

You nod, noticing that she really is out of breath. You help her with climbing off of you. As Haneul lies down, you get up. The fact that she just came on top of you has you longing for more. And the way Belle has started to pick up her pace once more, indicates she can take more as well.

Now kneeling behind her, you reach around her body and cup her breasts. Her bounces slow down and you move a little closer. Jackson reaches behind her and pulls Belle's cheeks apart.

"Why are you-"

She gets the answer a second later as she feels your tip push pass the tight ring of her ass.

"Oh! Oh, god! I've never taken this much before!"

You thrust inside of her, making Belle almost fall forward.

Jackson and you start to work together. Whenever you push inside Belle, his hands on her ass push her upwards as well. It makes her take even more of you, while her pussy glides along his shaft. And then you almost pull out of her as you pull her down with you, impaling her on his cock.

"Oh, yes! Ruin me!"

Belle quickly gets into it, the feeling of having two holes filled overwhelming her.

"Fuck, that's so hot."

Julie sighs on your right, who is riding Kang's cock. Next to her is Natty doing the same with Miller. The two guys exchange a look.

"Hey, wait!"

Natty complains, but Miller ignores her. He pushes her off of him and kneels behind Julie. The oldest has a mischievous grin on her face.

"Oh, yes. Give it to me, boys."

She moans loudly when the two of them start to fuck her ass and pussy as well. She doesn't seem to care at all that Natty just lost her own opportunity to feel good.

You motion her to come closer and Natty quickly crawls towards you. After she lies on her back, you hold Belle with only one hand and insert two fingers of your other one into Natty's wet pussy.

All three girls are now moaning together again, while Haneul is still lying on the side. Still recovering.

"Fuck."

You groan into Belle's ear, desperately trying to fight the urge to bite into her naked shoulder. Her ass is just so tight. It feels so good. That tight ring of her muscles keeps squeezing the life out of you, while you feel can feel Jackson's cock inside of her as well.

"Oh my god."

Belle sighs and moans. By now, she has become dead weight. It's up to you and Jackson to move her up and down, while you use her holes. Eventually, her strength leaves Belle's whole body. She collapses on top of Jackson. He's still inside her pussy and now you start to fuck Belle's ass a little faster. You make her body rock back and forth on top of him.

Natty seizes that opportunity and quickly climbs on top of Belle. You hear Jackson groan, you can't tell if it's their combined bodies on top of him, or just Belle's snatch. Either way, you're now able to switch between the two girls.

You pull out of Belle's snug ass and push inside Natty's pussy.

"Oh, yes. Fuck me hard."

The older girl sighs, backing her ass up a little bit more.

"Oh, that's it. You're gonna give us your cum?"

Julie's words push you towards the edge as you feel her hand quickly stroking your cock. The four girls are all kneeling on the floor in a circle, their backs up against each other. The four of you each stand in front of one of them.

Kang is the first to finish. With a loud groan, he cums all over Natty. Her face and her tits are painted waited after only a couple of seconds. Belle is the second one to get hit. Miller unloads all over her face as well, some of his cum hits her hair and Haneul as well.

Julie puts your cock into her mouth as well, urging you on to not leave her hanging. At the same time, Jackson orgasms too, painting Haneul's face. The youngest gasps at the rather unfamiliar feeling. But before she can say anything, Belle already captures her lips with her own. The two girls engage in a messy, cum filled make out session.

You suddenly feel a second pair of lips on your cock. Natty's painted face greats you as she eagerly lets her lips wander along your length.

"Fuck."

You groan, the two girls quickly getting you to the point of no return.

When they realize you're about to cum, they both lean back. They use their hands to push their tits together. Mouths wide open and tongues out. Natty closes her eyes, while Julie looks straight up at you.

You finally finish, painting both of their faces and tits. The sight in front of you almost makes you hard again already as you see the two girls sharing your cum.

You thought your birthday would've already been the highlight of your shore leave. But you're proven wrong, when you wake up the next day to a snap from your new friend.

[hamilton-here]

hiiiii can you write lewis angst? or something like trying to make him jealous? your preference if happy ending or no happy ending

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝑜𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓁

Authors Note: Hi All! Here’s a request I wrote based on Lewis getting jealous. Enjoy the one-shot! Lots of love xx

Summary: When a night out with the paddock turns tense, jealousy and fear threaten to unravel the bond between you and Lewis until raw honesty and quiet intimacy pull you back to each other.

Warnings: jealousy, mild sexual content, mild possessiveness

Taglist: @nebulastarr @hannibeeblog

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Abu Dhabi shimmered beneath the night sky, its skyline glowing like a polished crown against the velvet desert.

The season was over. Another year of adrenaline, circuits, rivalries, podiums and pressure had finally culminated in one last grand celebration.

The afterparty was lavish, thrown on the rooftop of a luxury hotel overlooking Yas Marina, where champagne flowed like water and laughter sparkled beneath strings of fairy lights. It was the kind of night meant to live forever in photos, in memories that blurred at the edges but glowed in the centre.

And you were stepping into it with Lewis Hamilton’s hand clasped tightly in yours.

The warm breeze fluttered the hem of your dress - a deep crimson satin piece that caught every light like flame. It clung in all the right places, draped in others, with a slit that teased every time you walked. Weeks of searching, fittings, second guessing of it made every moment was worth it just to see Lewis’s face when you opened the hotel room door earlier that night.

“Damn,” he’d murmured, frozen in the doorway, eyes darkening as they trailed down your silhouette. “You’re really tryna kill me tonight, huh?”

You’d laughed it off, but his gaze hadn’t moved for a long moment. He didn’t just look at you more like he devoured you with his eyes, that low smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

He stepped forward, sliding a hand around your waist and pulling you against his chest, whispering something about how good you looked and how unfair it was that anyone else got to see it

Now, as you entered the party that same heat still lingered on your skin.

The rooftop was buzzing with music pulsing through the soles of your heels, champagne towers glittering under golden lighting, the gentle hum of luxury all around. Drivers, team principals, models, influencers, actors - it was an overload of beautiful people, beautiful clothes, and fleeting smiles. But no one looked quite like Lewis.

He wore a black custom suit that fit like a second skin, the silk of his shirt open just low enough to make you want to reach out and touch. His silver jewelry glinted with every movement like rings, chains, earrings, all catching the light and attention. That signature swagger was dialed to eleven, but it wasn’t loud. It was quiet confidence. Controlled. Dangerous.

Still, the most commanding thing about him wasn’t the look. It was the way he held you fingers splayed on the small of your back, possessive, proud, as if to say she’s mine to every eye that lingered on you too long.

“You sure you want to stay long?” he asked, low enough that only you could hear, brushing a kiss against your temple.

“I just want you all to myself.”

You smiled, your hand resting gently on his chest. “We’ll sneak out in a bit. But you’ve got people to greet, champ. You know, global icon things.”

He laughed softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “You keep reminding me who I am when I’d rather forget and just be yours.”

You blushed, but before you could respond, he was tugged away by a shout from one of the Mercedes engineers, who raised a toast in his honor. Lewis gave your hand one last squeeze, murmuring a soft I’ll be right back, then let go.

And with that, he was swept into the crowd.

You tried to stay close but that was impossible. Camera flashes started going off. The PR team was quick to usher him toward a setup with media banners. You watched him smile for the cameras, charm the interviewers, put his arm around teammates for posed photos. The kind of thing he’d done a hundred times. But tonight, he felt far away.

And without his hand in yours, the warm thump in your chest started to fade.

You took a step back from the center of the party, sipping your champagne, letting your eyes wander. That’s when you heard it a voice just behind you.

“You look lethal tonight,” Lando Norris said, slipping into your orbit like he’d been waiting for the right moment. He handed you a glass of something that smelled far too sweet, his grin already pulling a laugh out of you.

“Do I?” you asked, cocking a brow as you took the glass. “Pretty sure you’re just saying that to distract me from your shirt.”

He looked down. “What’s wrong with my shirt?”

“It’s got pineapples on it, Lando.”

He clutched his chest in mock offense. “It’s fashion, thank you very much. This is vintage McLaren hospitality chic.”

You laughed, genuine and unfiltered. He had that effect of harmless mischief, the kind that made you feel lighter even in a room full of egos.

You hadn’t meant to let yourself get pulled into the banter, but it felt nice, easy. And you hadn’t realised how much tension you’d been carrying until it started to melt away.

You didn’t notice Lewis looking back from across the rooftop.

He’d just finished a brief with Sky Sports, his tie slightly loosened now, his smile gone a little stiff. When his eyes landed on you, on Lando leaning in too close on your laugh, the way your hand lightly touched Lando’s arm - something inside him clenched.

His jaw tightened. His posture stiffened. The possessiveness that had lived subtly in his hand on your back earlier now simmered just under the surface, waiting to boil over.

And just like that, the party stopped feeling like a celebration.

Lando’s eyes sparkled as he raised his glass in mock salute. “I’ll take ‘lethal’ over ‘elegant’ any day. Especially when it’s coming from someone who looks like you just stepped out of a Bond movie.”

You tilted your head, arching a brow. “That sounds dangerously close to a pickup line.”

He grinned, undeterred. “Is it working?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Not even a little.”

“Harsh.” He sipped his drink, still smiling. “But fair. Still, I’ve got to say it’s kind of rude of you to look that good and not warn anyone. I nearly walked into a wall when I saw you.”

You rolled your eyes, though a soft laugh escaped your lips. You weren’t flirting, not intentionally. You’d always been warm by nature the kind of person who met teasing with teasing, who could keep up with the boys without losing your softness. And Lando, well Lando was harmless, right?

“I think you walked into a wall because you were taking selfies with a bottle of tequila,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow.

He gave you a mock wounded look. “Details. Irrelevant.”

You were mid sip of your champagne when Lando leaned in, not quite close enough to touch, but enough to lower his voice just for you.

“Seriously though if Lewis disappears for too long, you can always keep me company. I’m great with small talk. And I’m not bad at dancing either.”

That made you pause, amusement flickering behind your eyes. You weren’t oblivious. Lando might be joking or half joking but there was something a little different in his tone now. A tension you hadn’t picked up on before.

“Is that your way of offering me a backup date?” you asked, playful but pointed.

He shrugged, cheeky. “Just saying you deserve attention tonight. And I’m good at giving it.”

Across the rooftop, Lewis watched. Every slow step back toward the party brought him closer but not fast enough. He saw the way Lando leaned in. Saw the way you smiled not seductively, but softly, kindly, the way you always did when you felt comfortable. The way you smiled at him when you first met.

His grip on the champagne flute tightened. The sharp edge of jealousy wasn’t new, but it had rarely hit this hard. Not like this not when it came with the fear that someone else might be making you laugh in the way he thought only he could.

George Russell stepped beside him, clapping him on the back. “You alright, mate?”

Lewis didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he said, voice low, eyes fixed on the two of you. “Just needed some air.”

But George followed his gaze, lips curving slightly when he saw Lando trying and failing to act slick.

“Ah. That kind of air.”

Lewis finally broke his stare, adjusting the chain around his neck before finishing the rest of his drink in one swallow. “Excuse me a sec.”

He was walking toward you before he knew what he was going to say.

Before he knew how tight his chest had gotten just from watching someone else lean too close, linger too long, make you laugh in a way that felt too damn familiar.

And you still completely unaware of the storm heading your way, were smiling as Lando offered you his hand.

“Dance with me?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

And just as you were about to answer, you felt the familiar warmth of a hand at your lower back again.

“Think she’s got a better partner already,” Lewis said smoothly, his voice velvet but laced with steel.

Your heart skipped.

Lando looked up, all innocence but the tension crackled between the three of you like the electric hum before a summer storm.

You turned at the sound of Lewis’s voice, your eyes finding his in an instant.

He stood just behind you, calm on the surface, but unmistakably coiled. His smile was tight, controlled the kind of smile he wore in post race interviews when he’d just been screwed over by strategy and couldn’t say what he really felt.

The warmth of his hand on your back should’ve soothed you. But it didn’t. Not tonight. Not when the grip was too firm, too claiming. Not when something sharp flashed behind his eyes.

Lando gave a sheepish half laugh. “No offense, mate but I asked her.”

Lewis didn’t take his eyes off you. “And I’m telling you she’s with me.”

It wasn’t loud. But it didn’t need to be.

The tone was enough to snap the air tight between the three of you. You could feel eyes starting to shift toward the tension curious glances, quiet whispers. But all you could focus on was the steel in Lewis’s voice. The way his words didn’t just land - they hit.

You took a breath. “Lando was just being sweet.”

“Sweet’s not the word I’d use,” Lewis said quietly, his arm sliding around your waist like a closing gate. “He’s had his eyes on you all night.”

“Lewis -”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, but there was nothing fine in his voice. “You were just laughing, right? Smiling. Doing that thing you do when you lean in and nod like they’re the most interesting person in the room.”

Your mouth parted, but he didn’t stop.

“You don’t even realise when you do it. When guys like him take it as permission.”

Your heart thudded, loud and unsteady. “I wasn’t-”

“I know you weren’t. That’s the problem.”

Lando raised both hands slightly. “Alright, I’m not trying to start anything.”

Lewis didn’t look at him. “Then don’t.”

The finality in his voice made your stomach twist. Lando mumbled something and backed away, leaving the two of you locked in a silence far too loud for the rooftop crowd.

The moment he was gone, Lewis turned to you fully, his grip easing, but his eyes burning.

“You really didn’t see it?” he asked, lower now.

You shook your head, confused and on edge. “I was just being myself.”

“Exactly,” he said again, quieter. “You don’t know what it does to me when I see you like that completely open. Vulnerable in a way you don’t even mean to be.”

Your brows knit. “Why are you making this a fight?”

He exhaled roughly, looking away like the words were too big to meet your eyes. “Because I hate this part of myself. The part that watches you across the room and wonders if you even notice me anymore when someone else is making you laugh like that.”

The words landed like a blow not because they were cruel, but because they were true. And raw. And spoken like they’d been festering under the surface for a while.

Your voice broke slightly. “Of course I notice you.”

“Not always,” he said, looking at you again. “Sometimes it feels like you forget what it means to be mine.”

The word made you flinch. Not because it wasn’t true but because you weren’t sure what being his even meant anymore. Not when the lines kept getting blurred. Not when this much insecurity was still between you.

“I’m not a trophy you keep by your side to prove something,” you said quietly. “I’m not something to win and protect from every driver who happens to look my way.”

He didn’t speak.

“And I can’t keep feeling like I have to walk on eggshells just because someone talks to me and you spiral.”

Lewis’s jaw clenched, his voice low and bitter. “It’s not a spiral. It’s fear.”

You stared at him.

“That one day I’ll look at you from across the room and realise someone else has all of you,” he continued, voice shaking now. “Not just your smile. But your future. Your trust. Your heart.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You wanted to speak to tell him he was wrong, to soothe the ache you saw behind the bravado. But something about the silence said he didn’t need comfort. He needed honesty.

“You think I’d give all that to someone else?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” he confessed, and suddenly, he looked tired. Exhausted, like he’d been holding this weight for far too long. “I know I’m not easy. I know I’m not always present. And I know you deserve more than someone who spends half the year in hotel rooms and race suits.”

You swallowed hard. “That’s not what I need from you.”

“Then what do you need?” he asked. Desperate now. “Because when I see someone like Lando getting to just be there, be available in ways I’m not I start to think maybe I’m not the one you’d choose if this started today.”

The pain in his voice made your heart break a little.

“I did choose you,” you said, firmer now. “And I’m still choosing you. Even when you get like this. Even when you let jealousy speak louder than your heart.”

Lewis looked away again, jaw flexing. You could see it the battle between pride and fear. Between needing you close and pushing you away out of self defense.

The music around you had shifted a softer beat, something deeper, slower. A song made for swaying bodies and whispered truths.

“Dance with me,” he said suddenly, voice cracked and raw. Not a command. Not even a request.

A plea.

You nodded. Because you couldn’t do anything else.

He took your hand like he was afraid you might disappear. His other hand settled at your waist again but this time, it didn’t feel like a claim. It felt like a tether. Like he was holding onto you to keep himself grounded.

You let yourself melt into him, the ache between you softening not gone, not healed just understood. Felt. Acknowledged.

His forehead dropped to yours. He didn’t speak. Neither did you.

Sometimes, the deepest kind of love comes wrapped in fear. In jealousy. In needing someone so badly it makes you forget how to breathe.

And as you danced, his hands shaking slightly where they held you, you realised: Lewis wasn’t jealous because he didn’t trust you.

He was jealous because loving you scared the hell out of him.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The car ride back to the White was quiet. Not peaceful quiet more charged, unbearable, suffocating quiet. The kind of silence that didn’t just fill the space, but poisoned it.

You sat angled toward the window, watching the city blur past. Lights flickering across your reflection. You could feel Lewis beside you, every shift of his body like thunder. His hand had hovered near yours once then dropped.

He hadn’t said a word since the dance. Since his jealousy wrapped around you like a chain.

You thought maybe he would. In the elevator. In the hallway. Even as he unlocked the hotel suite and let you in first.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t even look at you.

Not until you were both inside. Door shut. World shut out.

The suite was dim, the skyline bleeding into the room through floor to ceiling windows. You stood by the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself, heart still thudding from everything unsaid.

Behind you, Lewis’s voice finally broke through. Low. Hoarse.

“You didn’t have to look at him like that.”

Your head turned. Slowly.

“Excuse me?”

His eyes met yours not angry now. Just tired. Hollow. “You smiled like you meant it. Like you were glad it wasn’t me standing there.”

Your throat tightened. “So now I’m not allowed to smile at people?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“No, Lewis. That’s exactly what you’re saying. That I’m not allowed to be nice, not allowed to laugh, not allowed to existnear other people without you getting in your head about it.”

He flinched. Just a little.

You took a breath. “Do you even hear yourself?”

He dragged a hand over his face. “I know I sounded like an asshole, alright? I know I didn’t handle it right. But watching him touch you, look at you, like he could have you like he could take something that’s mine-”

“I’m not something, Lewis!” you snapped, voice breaking. “I’m not a trophy to guard. I’m not a title to defend. I’m a person. And right now? I don’t even feel like one around you.”

He recoiled like you’d slapped him.

You didn’t mean to. But it was true.

His voice cracked. “I didn’t want to do this tonight.”

“Neither did I.”

The silence that fell after that wasn’t empty. It was wounded.

He walked across the room slowly, like he was afraid of breaking something maybe you, maybe himself.

When he stopped a few feet away, he looked up at you, eyes rimmed with regret.

“I’m scared,” he said.

It shattered something inside you.

“I know,” you whispered.

“I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not enough. That this me, the schedule, the pressure, the distance it’s too much. That someone else could give you more than I ever could.”

You blinked back sudden tears. “Do you really think I’d be here if I didn’t love you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Lewis,” you said again, softer now. “Look at me.”

He did. And god, his eyes looked wrecked.

“I don’t want Lando. Or anyone else. I want you. But I can’t keep feeling like I’m constantly being tested. Like one misstep and you’ll think I don’t care.”

His voice came rough, almost broken. “I don’t want to be like this.”

“Then stop making me feel like I have to prove myself just to keep you.”

The silence thickened again. But this time, it was different. This time, it held understanding. Hurt. Humility.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

You stepped closer, only inches between you now. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to trust me.”

He nodded, just once. Then again, like he was grounding himself in the truth of it.

His fingers brushed yours tentative. Asking. You let them curl around your hand.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.

“You won’t,” you murmured. “But you have to stop acting like you already have.”

His chest rose sharply then he pulled you into him, fast and fierce, his arms around your back, his face buried in your shoulder like he couldn’t bear the weight anymore.

You held him just as tightly, eyes stinging.

The tension didn’t vanish. But it changed.

It softened into something honest.

Raw.

Real.

And maybe tomorrow would still be hard. Maybe you’d still have things to say. But tonight?

Tonight you both stood in the aftermath, holding the pieces of a fight that wasn’t about anger, but fear.

Because sometimes the people who love the deepest fall the hardest when they forget they’re already enough.

Lewis didn’t let go for a long time.

His arms stayed around you like he didn’t trust the world to hold you if he let go. Like he was still trying to convince himself you were real, that you hadn’t slipped through his fingers in the space between silence and truth.

You stood there, wrapped in him, your hand stroking slowly up and down his back. His skin was warm through his shirt, his heartbeat unsteady against your chest.

Eventually, you both moved.

Wordlessly, you reached for his hand and guided him toward the bed.

He followed.

There was no rush. No urgency. Just the quiet understanding of two people who’d fought and survived it and now needed to feel something else. Needed to feel each other.

You sat side by side at the edge of the bed. He slipped off his rings, placed them gently on the nightstand like he always did but this time, his hands lingered there, elbows on knees, head slightly bowed. As if he was still collecting the courage to look at you without guilt behind his eyes.

You leaned over and tucked your fingers under his chin, coaxing him to face you.

“Hey,” you said softly. “We’re okay.”

He looked at you like he didn’t quite believe it. “You promise?”

You nodded. “As long as you keep letting me in we’ll always be okay.”

His lips parted, like he wanted to say more, but you leaned forward and kissed him slow, tender, your fingers brushing the stubble along his jaw.

It wasn’t about making up or making a point.

It was about coming home.

Lewis melted into it, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, the other curling gently around your waist. You shifted, swinging your legs up onto the bed and he followed without a word pulling you into him as you both settled under the sheets.

He tucked you against his chest, your legs tangled together like they always did. His heartbeat slowed as your fingers found their way under the hem of his shirt, resting lightly over his ribs.

“I hate fighting with you,” he murmured against your hair.

“I know. Me too.”

“I get in my own head sometimes.”

You smiled faintly. “That head is a dangerous place.”

He chuckled quietly, and the sound made your heart flutter. Because it was real. It was him. The version of Lewis he didn’t show the cameras. The one who looked at you like you were his whole world and didn’t know how to live without it.

“I just love you so damn much,” he added, voice barely above a whisper. “And when I feel like I might lose you - I panic. I shut down. Or worse, I lash out.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers brushed your cheek. “You still mean that?”

“I always meant it.”

Lewis kissed you again this time slower, deeper. Not desperate. Not demanding. Just reverent. Like every part of him was saying thank you and I’m sorry and I love you all at once.

When you pulled apart, you stayed close. Nose to nose. Breath to breath.

“Can we stay like this?” he asked, already curling you tighter into his chest.

“For as long as you want.”

And so you did.

Wrapped in each other, in the quiet glow of the city beyond the window, in the aftermath of jealousy and fear you found peace. Not perfection. Not the promise that it would never happen again.

But the promise that even when it did you’d fight for each other.

And that was enough.

[velarisdusk]

Shadows of Need

Day 6: Mommy Kink | Azriel x Reader word count: 1k author’s note: i like seeing big strong men beg and whine its a very nice little treat ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

“Aw… You’re shaking. What’s wrong, sweet boy, hm?”

He’s deep inside you, his strong body pressing yours against the cool stone wall. His movements are fast and rough, yet there’s a distinct desperation in the way his hips snap against yours. Each thrust is powerful, precise, but his usually steady voice betrays him. 

“Is this good?” Azriel growls, his voice gravelly, strained. “Is this good for you?”

His voice, usually so composed and commanding, now roughened by raw need, reverberates through you, sending a thrill down your spine. His forehead is pressed to your shoulder, damp with sweat, and every breath he takes is labored, barely able to control himself as he waits for your approval.

You tighten your grip on his hair, yanking his head back just enough to make him look at you. His eyes are dark, full of raw need, and the way he bites down on his lip to stifle a whine only makes you want him more.

“Yes,” you moan, the word tumbling out in a breathless sigh. The way his body reacts — how his hips stutter for just a moment — sends a rush of power surging through you. “Gods, you’re so good for me, baby.”

Azriel groans, the sound low and guttural, and it vibrates through your entire body. His lips part as if to speak, but all that escapes is a strangled breath. He’s barely holding on, teetering between control and the need to give himself completely to you.

“Fuck, Mommy…” he chokes out, and the word alone makes your pulse quicken. He’s unraveling in your hands, the shadowsinger of the Night Court, now utterly at your mercy.

You smile softly, pulling his head back a little more. “What do you need, Az, hm?” you ask, voice sultry and teasing, though you already know the answer. The way he’s trembling against you, the desperate way he’s holding on — he’s aching for it.

A groan rumbles in his chest as his gaze drops to where his body meets yours, then flicks back up, locking with yours. His movements become harder, more deliberate, like he’s trying to prove something with every thrust. You raise a brow at him. “What is it, sweet boy? You know you need to use your words.”

“I want it,” he murmurs, his voice cracking as his head tilts back, baring his throat to you in a silent plea. His eyes, wide and glazed with wild need and devotion, lock onto yours. “I want to come, please, let–” His words falter, replaced by a sharp, breathless grunt as his fingers dig into your thigh, tightening as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away and take everything with you. 

“Ah,” you press a single finger to his lips, silencing the desperate sounds tumbling out of him. His breath hitches, his mouth still slightly open under your touch as his wide, pleading eyes meet yours. “Should I let you?” you ask, your tone playful and teasing, but the underlying power in your voice makes his body tense. You tilt your head, feigning contemplation. “Maybe we should just stop now and–”

“No–!” Azriel’s response is immediate, panicked, the protest spilling from him in a frantic rush as his hands tighten around your hips. “Don’t… don’t stop. I’m doing everything you ask, I’m giving you everything. Mommy, please don’t make me stop,” he rasps, his voice breaking with need, every inch of him vibrating with desperation. His eyes, dark with want and adoration, flicker with fear at the thought of losing your touch.

You run your fingers through his damp hair, gripping it just hard enough to pull another whimper from his throat. The sound sends a thrill through you, and you lean down, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Begging so prettily…” you murmur, savoring the way you feel the muscles in his arms trembling. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll give you what you need. Can you do that for me, Az?”

Azriel’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and smoldering despite the way his body trembles under your touch. His lips part, and though his voice is unsteady, there’s a note of determination beneath the desperation. “Please… let me come. I can’t hold it much longer. I’ve been good, just, please Mommy, can I come?”

You lean in close, your breath ghosting over the shell of his ear as you press your lips to it, feeling the way his body shudders beneath you at the contact. His breath hitches, a strained, desperate sound, as if the anticipation alone might undo him. “Go ahead and come for me, sweetheart,” you whisper, your voice low and commanding, the words like a caress against his skin.

The moment they leave your lips, you feel him tense, his body going taut as if those simple words have shattered the last remnants of his control. His hips slam up into yours one last time, a moan ripping from his throat as he obeys, every muscle trembling under the force of his release. The sound of his surrender is raw and broken, echoing off the stone walls as he clutches you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. 

You hold him close, his body shuddering against yours, fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently to keep him anchored in the moment. His breaths come in harsh gasps, his forehead falling to rest against your shoulder, as if he can’t handle the intensity of what just happened.

“That’s it,” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp hair soothingly, your tone soft but firm. “You did so well for me, Azriel. My perfect boy.”

A low, broken whine escapes him, muffled against your skin, and his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid to let go. The vulnerability in his voice, the raw need still lingering, stirs something deep inside you—something that makes you want to keep him here, like this, just a little longer.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @sizzlingstarlightsky

[lovelyyys]

ddlg with logan?

amazing ideas you guys are giving me like… HELLO

(female reader, dom!logan, 18+!!!!!!)

Logan was never the type of guy to be into being called daddy, or being crazy dominant with you. He thought it was a little strange that people would like this. Not until you suggested he try it for once, he agreed wanting to make you happy. Only does he know he’s about to like it. Or more so love it.

You were waiting on the couch of your guys apartment. In the lingerie he bought you to be exact. The pink one that had flowers at the top of the bra. The one where your breasts filled out nicely. The one where the lace made him want to beg on his knees. The one that he liked. A lot. You had heard the front door to your guys apartment open, then shut from the hall. The second that he has stepped in, you could smell his musk, how he smelled like black coffee and perhaps a little sweaty. Nothing to serious though. You turned your head around. Eyes meeting his cold dark ones. His eyes filled with surprise as they met your warm kind ones. “What’s with the getup?” He laughed. His head nodding to your lingerie, he was already getting hard as a rock in his jeans just watching you sit on the couch. Your perfect body in that…

Rolling your eyes a bit, you sat up on your knees and pushed your hair behind your ears. Licking your lips and leaning your head a bit on the couch. Admiring him, not to mention watching his every breathe. He was always so anxious. So maybe for once he could just take complete control of you and fuck you like the doll you were. “I told you I wanted to try something out Lo…” You giggled. Batting your eyelashes at him as you looked up at him ever so lovingly.

He chuckled a bit. Not before rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and replying to you. “Oh I know. So uh. What do I do?” You shrugged. “I dunno, whatever feels normal?” He nodded. “Hey but not too normal ey? Gotta be rough no?” He smirked, taking off his flannel. Running a hand through his messy hair. You giggled once again nodding, you were about to get up until Logan clicked with his tongue, motioning you to come over and sit on his lap. Obviously you did. Your hips met his clothed thighs. His eyes traced your body. His hands going to grip your hips. “Mmm.” He hummed. He was just so.. manly… and sexy… and hot… and so fuckable… without noticing your started grinding on his right thigh. Holding onto his thick shoulders that you could pry your legs upon later whenever he decided it was time to fuck you.

“Leaving a mess already. I just bought these last week c’mon baby.” He groaned out. Even though he complained, you knew he wouldn’t ever let you stop. So of course the only reasonable thing to do was to continue fucking yourself on him. “I told you you’re leaving a mess. Soaking my fucking pants already.” Logan snarled

“What?” You asked. “What do you mean what? Don’t get bratty with me already.” He responded. You raised a brow, someone’s got a temper. Not before picking you up taking you to your shared room. Laying you on the bed infront of the mirror. “On your knees baby.” He commanded. Giving your plush ass a small slap. You got on all four, facing the mirror and watching him crawl over your body. His hand tracing your neck. Not before cupping your face. “You gonna be good?” A nod was all that came out of you.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes.”

He took off his pants, pulling out his hardened cock out from his pants. Hot red puffy tip begging to find some sort of relief, teasing it at the entrance. You whined leaning back a little. “Needy little thing aren’t you?” Logan growled. He leaned forward kissing and nipping at your neck. “What do you say baby?”

“Please.”

“Please what.”

“Please daddy.” You whined again, not before he shoved his fat cock inside of your tight cunt. Moaning out his name. It made its way inside. You could feel every vein on his hard dick pulsing as you squeezed around him. Even though sex was a regular thing, you never quite got used to the feeling of it. A low guttural moan was released from him as his began to move. You could see in the mirror the wicked grin on his face. He kept it at a conversational pace. Enough were he could hear those pretty little moans of yours while still making sure you understood you were his girl. His to fuck. His to claim. His to make love to.

With every clench of your pussy, you panted and moaned. Writhing under him as he forced you to look into the mirror. “Look at you.. so pretty for me.”

Pretty.

You let out a moan at his praise, he smirked instead of a grin. He knew that you found pleasure in praising. But what if he didn’t praise you? Would you still be as wet as a damn waterfall and just want to be his baby? Only one way to find out.

“My whore.”

You stopped moaning, a little confused. Eyes meeting his in the mirror. “You don’t like that?” He asked you unsure if he did something to make you uncomfortable. His thrusts stopping for a moment. “No- I like it.” You grinned. “Just unexpected.”

At that moment it’s like something switched in him. He flipped you on your back.

“I knew it. Such a slut for me aren’t you?” Logan laughed. Finding pleasure in your humiliation, he began to fuck into you. Staring into your eyes, pleading at him. “Open your mouth.” He snarled. You opened. Sticking your tongue out a bit for him too. The rugged man spat in your mouth. “Keep it there and suck.” He added, Shoving two fingers into your mouth. You hummed against his thick fingers. Kind of wishing it was his dick penetrating your mouth instead of your pussy.

“Like all your holes being filled hmm? Should I fuck your ass next?” He threatened. Not in a condescending way but in a way that made you even wetter. You nodded profusely. “I’ll save it for next time baby.” You nodded. Still sucking, kind of wishing he would fuck you in all 3. You were so good for your daddy after all!

After a while, his thrusts started to falter. His pace speeding up somehow? “Gonna fill you up. Gonna fill my baby up.” He moaned. Closing his eyes. “Gonna make you swell up with my fucking litter.” He laughed. He liked the idea. Watching your belly just grow knowing you had his kid in there. Or kids. Who knew? Maybe twins ran in his family. Or yours.

His hot cum gushed in your tight little hole. The liquid threading to leak out, but Logan didn’t allow that as he pressed up into you. Tip kissing your cervix. Surely it would be bruised by tomorrow.

Nothing that daddy can’t take care of though… :)

I didn’t really know how to write a ddlg fic since it’s my first time doing one but I really hope you like it!! Keep asking me things!

P.S. Nsfw alphabet on the way!!! Keep an eye out for it ;)!!

xoxo

[irisposts]

Embers of Us

summary | you plot to kill your uncle aemond and avenge your fallen brother.

paring: aemond x neice!reader

warning: kissing, p n v, very smutty oh and some angst, spoilers for s1e10

note: i haven't written smut in like a year. bare with me cus it's pretty ass.

word count: 2.8k

not edited

Gold coins fall into the rat catcher’s palm, his fingers quiver as you release the last two. The cold steel of your gaze pierces through him.

“Now leave,” you command, your voice sharp and hushed.

He nods hurriedly, retreating into the shadows from which he came. Your eyes lift to the second floor—the royal floor.

You ascend the stairs silently, each step filled with the weight of your purpose. The air feels thick, almost suffocating, as memories flood your mind—of Luke, of the war, of what was taken from your mother. The dagger beneath your cloak feels heavier with each breath.

When you reach Aemond’s door, your fingers shake as they graze the frame. Taking a sharp breath, you push it open just enough to peek inside. And there he is—Aemond Targaryen, your estranged uncle. The man that would meet his fate by the end of your dagger.

The room is bathed in the warm glow of scattered candles, their flames flickering against the stone walls. Aemond sits at a table, his back to you, his silver hair catching the light. He doesn’t turn when you slowly close the door behind you and seal the space between you.

Each step you take is measured, deliberate, as you approach. As you reach him, your hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of his silver hair. You yank his head back sharply and raise your dagger to his throat, the cold steel pressing against his skin. He hisses a breath through his teeth, unfazed.

“Niece,” Aemond murmurs, a low, cruel chuckle rumbling from his throat.

You tighten your grip on his hair, your voice taut with fury. “Uncle.”

Aemond raises his hands, a gesture of surrender. “Easy.”

Your wrist moves to swipe across his neck and then, with a swift move, he disarms you effortlessly–your blade goes clattering to the floor.

Before you can react, he’s on his feet, facing you with your own weapon pointed at your chest. You unsheathe another dagger, stepping back, trying to create distance.

His gaze locks onto yours, a faint smirk curling his lips. “Did Rhaenyra send you to do this, or are you foolish enough to act on your own?”

“My mother—your rightful queen—” you spit, your eyes burning with rage. Aemond scoffs at the words, but you press on. “—has nothing to do with this. I came for Luke.”

Something flickers in Aemond’s expression, but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. His face hardens, cold and controlled. He steps slowly around the chair, voice lowering but steady.

“Luke was... a casualty of war,” he says, his tone almost detached. “War does not care for innocence. I am a soldier, and soldiers do what must be done. Blood is spilled, and it claims whoever stands in its path.”

“Casualty of war?” you seethe, your voice a mix of anguish and fury. “He was just a messenger! He wasn’t a threat to you, and yet you—” Your voice cracks, your chest tightening. 

Aemond’s face hardens further, his hand drifting toward his eyepatch as if by reflex. “The war,” he snaps, “began the day I lost my eye to your brother’s blade. A debt was owed.”

Your heart pounds in your ears, your hands shaking as anger courses through you. “But his life?” you choke, your voice faltering as tears well in your eyes. “He was just a boy!” You place a hand on your chest and spit through gritted teeth. “…We had nothing to burn.”

Aemond’s gaze softens for a brief moment, the flicker of guilt in his eye is buried beneath layers of pride, but it’s there.

You steady yourself, swallowing the sob threatening to escape. With trembling hands, you tilt your chin high and raise the dagger once more, whispering, "Se iā daor." (And now, you must die.)

You plant your feet firmly and charge towards him. Aemond catches your wrist midair, but you’re ready. With your free hand, you unsheathe another hidden dagger and swipe it across his side, the blade cutting through the fabric of his clothes and into his skin. A grunt escapes his lips as he staggers back, and the two of you tumble to the ground in a fierce struggle. The cold stone presses against your bodies as you grapple, breaths heavy and ragged, hands clawing and striking.

Aemond throws a punch, but you block it just in time, your arm bracing against the blow. In the chaos of tangled limbs, your fingernails catch his face, tearing away the eyepatch.

Everything stills.

Aemond freezes, his breath hitching as your gaze falls to the scarred, hollow space where his eye once was. But instead of a void, a sapphire gleams in its place, glowing faintly in the candlelight.

For the first time in years, you see the familiar tremor that runs through him. Fractured memories of child Aemond floods your mind, the Aemond you had once comforted when no one else dared to look at him.

Your heart slows as you reach your hand out to trace the scar and the sapphire embedded in his eye socket. But just as your fingers near him, Aemond’s hand shoots out, grasping your wrist.

His grip is firm, but not harsh. He holds your hand there, inches from his face, and the tension in the air thickens, the crackling candles the only sound between you.

The memory returns again—the quiet moments after Aemond had lost his eye. When you had been the only one to ask if he was in pain. The only one to sneak past your mother and Alicent to see to him—to offer him kindness when others turned away. That boy still exists, somewhere beneath the man who hovers before you now.

Aemond’s remaining eye flickers with something unreadable. Guilt, sorrow—perhaps, buried beneath his pride. “I’m letting you live,” he murmurs. “I won’t give you or your mother the satisfaction of my death. Nor will I give my brother the pleasure of yours.”

He loosens his grip, gently releasing your wrist. The violence that once filled the room moments ago now dissipates like smoke.

You continue to lay on the cold stone floor as grief overwhelms you, your body withers as bitter tears stream down your face. Damn him. Damn him for not giving you the chance to avenge Luke.

“No,” you sob, weakly striking his chest, the blows are soft and ineffective. Aemond doesn’t stop you. “No!” you cry again, your words spilling out in a broken mantra. “No.”

Aemond watches you, his expression unreadable. But something shifts in his gaze, something softer, more fragile than before. For a fleeting moment, you think you see unshed tears glistening in his eye, but the moment passes quickly.

In an unexpected gesture, Aemond reaches down and brushes a silver strand of hair from your face. He tucks it gently behind your ear. His thumb then swipes at the wetness beneath your eyes, lingering a moment too long. His fingers ghost against your skin.

His eye lowers, tracing the curve of your lips. His thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip. You taste the faint salt from your tears. He pauses, his eye searching yours, waiting—asking without words.

More tears threaten to spill, your heart torn between bitter betrayal and the love you had buried deep within.

But agaisnt your better judgement, you allow yourself to relax.

And then his lips meet yours, soft and careful, as if there’s a possibility you’d reject him. But you won't. You exhale a quiet sigh, melting into the warmth of his touch.

The kiss holds a thousand unspoken truths. It’s not just born of passion, but of release—of grief, regret, and love. For all the war, all the bloodshed and losses, the love between you had always lingered, hidden beneath layers of denial. Now, at this moment, it rises to the surface, undeniable.

Your fingers slip into his hair, pulling gently at the roots. Aemond’s hand cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepens the kiss with quiet desperation.

For this fleeting moment, the storm outside the walls, the weight of the crown, and the shattered bonds of family fade into nothing. It is just the two of you, suspended in this moment where the war; your mother’s throne, and the blood between you are now distant echoes.

Aemond breaks away from the kiss and leans back. You watch carefully as he strips his top half bare. Your eyes roam over every inch of his chiseled form, taking in the smooth curve of his waist and the firm lines that make up his frame. Your gaze lingers on the wound of your doing. It sits right above his pelvis, off to the side.  It's not a deep cut, but it left specks of blood on his pale skin. 

Your fingers tremble as they reach for the strings of your top. Taking a shallow breath, you begin to remove your outer clothing. Aemond senses your anticipation and helps you out of your trousers. His touch sends shivers down your bare skin, as your naked form is fully revealed for his eyes to bare. 

Aemond slots himself between your legs and peppers kisses across your face, neck, chest, and abdomen. His silver hair tickling your skin as he continues downward. He slides his face in between your thighs, leaving soft kisses on either side.

He glances up at you for approval once more. Your cheeks flush and you give a quick nod before laying back down completely.

Aemond delicately parts your legs, his rough calloused hands gently brushing against the soft skin of your inner thighs. A low moan escapes your lips as his skilled fingers spread you apart. He begins to massage and tease at your bud. Your back arches in pleasure as Aemond flattens his tongue and slowly licks you up in a long, sensual strip. 

"Gods," you mutter breathlessly.

Both of your hands are in his hair now, tight and pushing him deeper into your heat.

Aemond is undoubtedly skilled. You can't help but feel a twinge of envy as you wonder if some woman from his past, maybe someone from his court, had taught him these tricks. He moans against you and a rush heat of heat glides up your body. Your eyes roll back, as he continues to devou you like you’re the last meal on earth.

You move a peice of silver out of his face—you want to see everything.

Your fingers tangle in Aemond's hair once more as waves of pleasure course through your body.

His tongue moves with expert precision, alternating between teasing flicks and long, languid strokes. Your hips buck involuntarily, pressing yourself closer to his eager mouth.

His hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as he increases his pace. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing and muffled moans. You feel the familiar tension building deep within your belly, threatening to overflow at any moment.

Aemond reaches towards your breast, his hand massaging the mound. His fingers pinching and twisting at your hardened nipple. His tongue swirls and darts in and out of your wet heat, in perfect unison with his fingers. “Aemond.”

Just as you approach the precipice, Aemond pulls away, leaving you gasping and desperate for release. His mismatched eyes, one sapphire gem and one his familiar ocean blue, lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race.

His lips glisten in the light with your slit.

You watch as he stands tall and wrangles himself out of his trouser. Now, completely baring himself to you as you do him. Aemond's manhood is long and thick, standing with attention and glistening with a bead of precum at the tip. You note the thick veins along his shaft. Your mouth waters at the thought of tasting him.

You chew on your lips in anticipation as Aemond brings himself back down to your level and hovers above your face. You both don’t pay any mind to your centers brushing against one another as he situates himself between your legs.  Both of you are too caught in each other’s gaze.

Instinctively, your fingers reach up again to trace the scar across his eye—the one that defines so much of who he is now. 

This time, he allows it. His face melts into your outstretched palm, eyes fluttering closed as your thumb brushes the sensitive area near the socket of his lost eye.

His hair falls like a sheer veil, cloaking the two of you. “iksā gevie” You say the words so softly it’s a mere whisper. (You’re beautiful.) 

Aemond's eye soften and he gently removes your hand from his face. 

But instead of letting go, he lifts your wrist to his lips and kisses the thin skin there. His lips linger for a moment before he lowers your hand back down to rest at your side. Aemond grabs himself between you both and positions himself at your entrance. 

You mentally and physically prepare yourself for what is about to happen, knowing it is an act of betrayal. Not only to your family, but to yourself.

Slowly, he enters you with the tip of his cock, causing a simultaneous moan from the both of you. Him from feeling the warmth of your walls and you from the pleasurable intrusion. You watch as his hips move, his skin glistening with sweat as he sinks deeper into you. You watch the intensity in his gaze as he looks down at where you both meet, his face contorted with raw desire.

Your legs spread wider when your body’s are fully flushed. The sensation of being so full and heavy of Aemond is heavenly.

You cry out in bliss as he begins to move inside you. His hips rolling out and snapping into your cunt.

The rhythm of Aemond's thrusts are deliberate and powerful, each one rolling and snapping with increasing force. You feel the tension building within you, a fire that is threatening to consume you both. Your chest bounces as he growls into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

Your legs and hands cling around him, trying to hold on as his pace quickens. Your fingers claw into his back, leaving red marks in their wake. Aemond sucks at the salty flesh on the curve of your neck, biting down hard before meekly replacing his tongue and lips to ease the pain.

"sīr vok," he whispers into the shell of your ear in between thrusts, his voice low and rough. “se mirre syt nyke.” (So perfect, all mines)

You moan in response, unable to form coherent words as pleasure overtakes your senses. The world around you fades away as Aemond continues to assault your inside, each thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Aemond reaches a certain depth inside you–hitting that one spot of nerves. A wave of pleasure washes over you and you cry out his name. Your back arches off the floor as you shake in ecstasy and gasp for air.

But Aemond doesn't slow down. He continues to fuck into you, through your orgasm, his grunts becoming more guttural and primal. He leans down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue dancing with yours . Your hands roam over his body, feeling every ripple and muscle as he brings both of you closer to the brink.

You wrap your legs tighter around him, urging him on as he pounds into you with an urgency that matches your own. Aemond buries himself between the curve of your neck, his moans loud and desperate. The familiar coil in your stomach begins to tighten once more as Aemond relentlessly drives into you.

“ivestragī ñuha—ah” You gasp at the sensitivity between your thighs. “laesi jurnegon jemome.” (let me see you). You beckon him to remove himself from your shoulder blade. 

Aemond obliges and turns his face towards yours. You stare as his features twist with pleasure. How his body tenses as he reaches his own peak, his hips stuttering against yours as he spills himself inside you. You feel the warmth of his seed filling you to the brim. You let out a sigh of satisfaction. He nearly collapses on top of you, but manages to gather the strength to withdraw from your body. You both watch as your essence coats him and his own drips between your thighs.

He falls down beside you in exhaustion.

You miss the warmth of him inside you, the feeling of him being close to you. 

The silence stretches, only your breathing echoing in the vast emptiness of the room, both of you lost in your own thoughts. 

After what feels like an eternity, you glance over at Aemond. He lies still, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

Without shifting your gaze from him, you say the words slowly, each syllable deliberate. “I’m going to kill you one day.”

It was a promise.

You expect a reaction—a sudden turn of his head, a flash of anger, perhaps even the feeling of his hand reaching for the dagger beside him, and driving it into your throat. But none of that comes.

Instead, Aemond remains as he is, his face serene, his eyes still locked on the ceiling as if it held all the answers. He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink.

“I know.” His words are soft and matter a fact. 

You slowly turn your head, your eyes tracing the same path his do and stare at the ceiling above. The silence settles again, heavy and suffocating, but beneath it lies a quiet understanding– one neither of you are yet ready to confront.

[coochieannihilator]

Love in a Hopeless Place

Synopsis: "Fake" affection evolves into real chemistry, forcing Hiromi and you to confront hidden feelings.

Content: Hiromi Higuruma x F!Reader, Fake Dating, A bit ooc?

Word Count: 3.8k

The wine bar is the kind of place that people think is moodier than it is: low lights, deep booths, and overpriced charcuterie boards. You’re halfway through your glass of wine, fiddling with the rim of your glass, when your friend leans over the table with a giddy little smirk that instantly puts you on edge.

You sigh, tipping your head back. “This is either going to be a brilliant idea or a slow, painful descent into secondhand embarrassment.”

She grins. “You’ve met Hiromi before. It won’t be that awkward.”

You arch an eyebrow. “We’ve met like… three times. All at your birthday parties. He barely speaks. I’m not even sure he likes me.”

“You terrify him,” she says, not even trying to deny it. “Which is exactly why this’ll work.”

You’re about to respond when the door opens. You don’t need to be told it’s him—you just know.

“There he is,” she whispers.

You follow her gaze toward the door—and stop short.

Hiromi Higuruma walks in like he’s stepping into a courtroom. Smooth. Controlled. He wears that charcoal-gray suit like its armor, that fits like it was tailored for him this morning. His tie slightly loosened, just enough to suggest he’s been fighting deadlines and depositions all day. His hair’s a little messy in a way that almost feels intentional, and his eyes—sharp, thoughtful, with a tired kind of elegance behind them—scan the room like he’s doing a threat assessment.

Your friend sips her wine, looking pleased with herself. “You’re welcome.”

Hiromi spots your table, makes his way over with that quiet, deliberate stride of someone used to commanding rooms with silence alone. When he reaches you, he offers his hand, firm and steady.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is smooth, low, and polite—like velvet over a blade.

You shake his hand. “So formal. Are we closing a business deal or fake-dating?”

A small pause. His expression barely shifts, but you catch it—an almost-smile. “I like clarity in arrangements.”

You grin. “Great. Here’s mine: you pretend to be completely in love with me for one evening, and I’ll stop calling you ‘lawyer boy.’”

His eyes flick down to your hand before you let go, then back up to your face. “And what do I get if I’m too convincing?”

You blink. “What, like convincing people we’re actually together?”

“No.” His gaze is steady, unreadable. “Convincing you.”

Your friend coughs—chokes, really—into her drink, already sliding out of the booth with a hasty “I’m just gonna give you two a minute” before you can say anything, though you barely notice.

Because Hiromi Higuruma is still looking at you like this is a negotiation he intends to win.

You lean back, arms crossing loosely. “Do all your dates start like a cross-examination?”

His lips twitch. Just barely. “Do all your fake boyfriends come with legally binding clauses?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say. “Clause one: must be photogenic. Clause two: must make my ex question his life choices. Clause three: must not fall in love with me. It’s bad for the brand.”

Hiromi hums thoughtfully. “Clause three might be hard.”

There’s that silence again—comfortable and electric at once. You hate how interesting he is already. You hate it more that you want to see what happens if you keep pushing.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re awfully confident for someone who hasn’t even flirted properly yet.”

He leans forward just slightly, voice dropping lower. “You haven’t even seen me try.”

Your pulse flutters and somewhere in the background, jazz hums through the speakers like it knows exactly what’s happening.

You narrow your eyes. “So are you now flirting with me, or are you just incredibly good at playing pretend?”

“I’m incredibly good at reading people,” he replies. “And you’re enjoying this.”

You are. Way more than you should be.

“So,” he says, with a calmness that feels like mischief. “When’s the wedding?”

You swirl the last of your wine, pretending not to notice how Hiromi watches you over the rim of his glass like he’s studying your tells. His drink of choice is whiskey—of course it is. Neat. No garnish, no ice. The man is a walking contradiction: polished but understated, intimidating but—annoyingly—kind of charming when he wants to be.

“It’s next Saturday,” you say finally, setting your glass down. “A lovely garden wedding where I get to sit across from my ex, his perfect new girlfriend, and pretend my heart isn’t shriveled like a week-old grape.”

Hiromi doesn’t flinch. “And you think bringing a stranger with a law degree will help.”

“I think showing up with a man who looks like you will help,” you correct. “If we’re being honest.”

That almost-smile flickers again, fleeting but real. “So I’m set dressing.”

“You’re stagecraft,” you say smoothly. “Very convincing stagecraft.”

He leans back in the booth, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the movement natural and confident in a way that makes you way too aware of how long his legs are. “And what’s my character, then? The doting boyfriend? The emotionally distant but devastatingly loyal one? The reformed bad boy?”

“Please don’t be emotionally distant,” you groan. “I’ve dated enough of those to start a support group.”

His gaze sharpens just a little. “Then what do you want me to be?”

The question lands heavier than it should. You don’t answer right away, eyes drifting to the condensation on your glass. He’s quiet, giving you space, but not looking away. He’s watching the way you think. Another lawyer habit, probably.

“I want someone who looks at me like I’m the best part of the room,” you say after a beat. “Even if it’s just pretend.”

Hiromi’s brow twitches. “That’s a very specific request.”

You smile, slow and sure. “I’m a very specific person.”

“I can work with that.”

And it’s the way he says it—so steady, so certain—that you actually feel a little warmth creep up your neck. You look down, trying to hide it, but he notices. Of course he notices.

“So what about you?” you ask, redirecting. “Why say yes to something this stupid?”

He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. “Your friend said you needed help, and I don’t mind being useful.”

You blink. ‘That’s… surprisingly earnest.’ “That’s very noble of you.”

“It’s not,” he says, and his voice dips a little—lower, more careful. “I like helping people when I know how. And pretending? That’s just acting, and acting is easy.”

You tilt your head. “Relationships aren’t.”

“No,” he agrees. “But lying is.”

There’s a pause. Something about the way he says it makes you wonder what kind of lies he’s had to live with. What truths he’s buried under all that careful composure, though you don’t ask.

Instead, you lean forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Alright then, counselor. Let’s get our story straight.”

“Hmm?”

“If we’re going to fool a bunch of emotionally stunted wedding guests, we need a backstory. How’d we meet?”

Hiromi thinks for a moment, then gives you a dry, straight-faced answer: “You sued me.”

You snort into your drink. “Okay, that’s too believable.”

“And yet you still fell for me,” he says, unblinking.

‘Damn, he’s good at this.’

“Oh? Confident, are we?”

“No,” Hiromi says, and this time when he smiles—really smiles—it’s slow and surprising and just the tiniest bit shy. “I just think I’ll have an easier time faking it than I expected.”

And suddenly, the whole fake-dating idea doesn’t feel quite so fake.

The reception was golden in a way that made everything look softer than it really was. Lights strung across the ceiling cast a gentle haze over the room, catching on sequins and champagne flutes, blurring out imperfections. It was the kind of beauty designed to be photographed—curated, polished, perfect.

You belonged to it like it was your element.

Hiromi watched you from a distance, half-hidden near the bar, one hand tucked into his pocket while the other held a drink he hadn’t touched in twenty minutes. His tie was slightly loose, collar unbuttoned, and he looked every bit like someone who didn’t quite belong here, but you did. Damn, you did.

You were standing near the flower arch with your friends, laughing as someone tried to get the perfect group shot. Your dress shimmered with the movement—light catching on delicate fabric in a way that made you glow. You threw your head back laughing at something one of them said, and Hiromi felt it somewhere deep in his ribs, like a tug.

You weren’t even trying to be beautiful. That’s what made it worse, or better, or impossible.

Someone told you to look over your shoulder for the next shot. You did—smiling just slightly, lips parted, eyes narrow—and Hiromi’s grip tightened around his glass. The kind of smile that didn’t belong in photographs. The kind meant to be seen in private, from close up. The kind you remembered even after you’d sworn to forget.

He didn’t even realize you caught him staring until the photo snapped and you turned, holding his gaze for a second too long. Something passed between you two—acknowledgement, maybe, or an invitation.

Minutes later, you wandered over to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Barefoot now, heels dangling from your fingers. You were a little breathless, a little hot on the cheeks, and your hair had started to come undone.

“You look miserable over here,” You said, reaching past him to set your shoes down. “Had to come rescue you from your brooding.” There was something playful in your tone, but it didn’t land fully. Too much unsaid, too many what-ifs lingering just out of reach.

Hiromi raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize I needed rescuing.”

There’s soft music, clusters of clinking glasses, and enough flower arrangements to trigger a seasonal allergy. Long tables lined with white linens stretch across the lawn, while servers weave between guests carrying hors d’oeuvres on delicate ceramic trays, and you don’t notice most of it, not really.

Because Hiromi is doing this thing—this infuriating thing—where he plays the role so well you forget it is a role.

His presence is steady, commanding—like he’s spent his whole life moving through rooms like that. He always kept one hand at your back as you navigated through tables and flower-draped walkways, always just a touch away, always aware of your pace. Every time someone greeted you, he offered a polite nod or a handshake, never overdoing it, but always enough to make them remember him.

His hand always rested gently at your waist as he guided you through the crowd. Not possessive, not showy, just there. Present. Steady. The kind of touch that says ‘I’m here, you’re safe, let’s do this together’, and somehow doesn’t come off as an act at all.

He leaned in when you spoke, his breath grazing your cheek. He laughed in low, knowing tones like every comment you make is a shared secret. Every move he made was smooth and natural, like he’s done this a thousand times before—but never with anyone else.

It’s the stillness that makes it work. The way his touch lingers just enough to anchor you. The way his eyes drift to your face more often than to the room around him.

He glanced at you again, not just a glance, though. His eyes lingered—just for a second too long—on your mouth, your collarbone, the way your shoulders tensed when you caught him looking. You didn’t pull away.

“You’re hard to read sometimes,” he murmured.

“Maybe I don’t want to be read.”

“But you still want to be looked at.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You saying you’ve been looking?”

“Would it be a problem if I have?”

You didn’t answer. Just shifted closer, slow and smooth, like it meant nothing—but it did. Your shoulder brushed against his arm. Your hair fell forward a little, loose hair pieces brushing his shoulder when you turned your head. He could smell you—something soft and clean and faintly floral, and he swore the air between them changed, grew heavier somehow.

You tilted your face toward his, eyes searching his like you might find something you left there.

“You ever get the feeling,” you said, low and steady, “that you’re one bad idea away from something really good?”

Hiromi’s mouth twitched. “Every time you look at me like that.”

You didn’t smile and neither did he. You looked at him then, really looked, and the kind of silence that followed was sharp at the edges. He leaned toward you, like it had weight, like if he leaned in just a little more, gravity would take care of the rest.

You were close now. Closer than made sense for two people who weren’t something. Close enough that he could feel your breath ghost against his lips when you spoke. His eyes dropped to your mouth again—just a flicker—and yours did the same.

Neither of you moved. Just… leaned. A millimeter more. Then another.

Your hand was resting on the bar now, his just beside it, fingers almost touching. The music from the dance floor swelled, but it felt far away. Like you guys were suspended in something quieter, something just yours.

“Say it,” You whispered, barely audible. “Whatever it is you’re not saying.” Your breath fanned across his lips, warm and soft and heavy with the sweet tang of champagne. His heart knocked against his ribs, slow and loud and stupid.

Hiromi opened his mouth.

And then—

Someone called your name.

Not loud, not urgent. Just enough to slice through the moment like a letter opener through ribbon.

You turned your head, reluctantly, heart still suspended somewhere behind your ribs. A cousin, maybe. Or one of your friends, already tipsy and flushed from dancing, waving you over for a photo, for a toast, for something.

Hiromi’s breath eased out slow as you stepped back, like a camera lens refocusing. He looked down at his hand still on the bar, like he wasn’t sure when it had tightened into a fist.

You hesitated, eyes flicking back to him with something close to apology. “I should—”

He nodded. “Go ahead.”

But there was something in his tone that had shifted. Not cold, just… neutral. Controlled. Like a courtroom door swinging closed.

You didn’t want to leave. Not really. But you also didn’t know how to stay—not after what almost happened. Not with your pulse still stuttering and your skin still lit up in the shape of him.

So you went.

Hiromi watched you fade back into the golden blur of the reception. Watched you laugh and pose and dance barefoot with your friends beneath the fairy lights.

And for the first time that night, he wished he wasn’t pretending.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

The wedding had wound down. Laughter faded into the hush of music playing for no one, and sparklers had long burned down to silver sticks, discarded on the edge of the patio.

You didn’t remember grabbing his hand. Or maybe he offered it first—you couldn’t tell anymore, but you were walking now. Past the dance floor, past the tents and tables, through a narrow path lit only by string lights overhead and the soft glow of garden lanterns tucked among the hedges. The gravel crunched beneath your bare feet. You didn’t care. Your shoes were somewhere behind you, and so was the noise.

Hiromi walked beside you in silence, his jacket draped over your shoulders. He didn’t offer it with words, just settled it there when you shivered once, the fabric still warm from his body. His sleeves were rolled up now, forearms bare and hands in his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

“I didn’t expect to enjoy tonight,” you said eventually, your voice low and quiet in the hush of midnight. “But you’re… kind of annoyingly good at this.”

“At pretending?” he asked, without looking at you.

“At making it feel real,” you corrected.

He stopped walking. You did too, almost out of reflex.

The garden opened up a little ahead—just a small clearing with a bench, some flowers you couldn’t name, and the distant sound of water from a hidden fountain. You turned to look at him, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself.

“It’s easier with you,” he said after a beat. His eyes met yours in the dark—soft, unreadable, and so full of quiet longing it almost hurt to look at.

“Why?” you asked.

Hiromi’s gaze dropped to your mouth, flicked back up. His voice was soft. “Because I like the way you look at me… even when you’re trying not to.”

That did something to you. A warm crack down your spine, a flutter in your ribs.

“I’m not pretending anymore,” you said, and the moment the words left your mouth, you realized how true they were.

Hiromi took a step closer, and your breath hitched—just slightly. He raised a hand, slow and careful, like he was testing gravity again, brushing your hair back from your face. His fingers were warm, gentle, grazing your jaw before dropping away.

“You can still walk away,” he said, low and honest. “Tell me it was just for show. We go back to being strangers tomorrow.”

You looked at him, and he looked back, and whatever tension had lived between you all night thickened, slow and certain, like molasses in warm air.

His words hung between you like smoke—heavy, suffocating. You didn’t step back. Couldn’t. Your chest ached with the weight of everything unsaid, everything felt too deeply for something that was supposed to be pretend.

You stared at him, heart hammering like it wanted to crawl out of your throat. “Is that what you want?” you asked, your voice raw.

Hiromi’s jaw flexed, a muscle twitching near his temple. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” you snapped, and suddenly you were close, closer than either of you realized. Your hand had found his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. His breath hitched, yours did too.

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up, dark and unreadable. “Say it,” he said. “Say it wasn’t real.”

“I can’t.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but shaking with emotion. It came out like a confession, like a wound.

He moved then—not forward, not away. Just leaned in, so close your noses brushed, so close the heat from his mouth ghosted over yours with every breath.

“I wanted to stay scared of you,” he murmured, and you swore your heart stopped. “But you kept looking at me like I meant something… and now I can’t stop needing that.”

Your hand slid up his chest, fingers clutching at his collar. “Then don’t.”

He exhaled shakily, like he’d been holding it in for too long. His forehead touched yours, eyes closing just for a second. But he didn’t kiss you. Not yet.

“This feels like a bad idea,” he whispered.

“It is,” you breathed. “But I still want it.”

There was a beat of silence. One beat. Two.

Then his hand slid around your waist, firm and deliberate, pulling you against him—not tender, not hesitant, but like he was tired of pretending he didn’t want to. Like if he didn’t touch you now, he’d lose his mind.

Your mouths hovered inches apart, breaths mingling, hands gripping fabric like anchors, like you’d both fall if you let go.

Still no kiss. Just the unbearable closeness of it.

His breath was warm against your mouth, uneven. Like he was fighting it, like kissing you would mean losing something he couldn’t get back, but you were done pretending too.

So you tilted your chin up—just enough to close that impossible gap—and your lips brushed.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft.

It was desperate.

Hiromi’s mouth crashed into yours like it was the only language he had left. His hand slid up your spine, rough palm splaying between your shoulder blades, holding you like he didn’t trust you to stay otherwise.

You gasped into him, and he swallowed the sound with a low noise from deep in his throat. Not quite a growl—no, something more human than that. Like pain and hunger and relief all tangled together.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, knuckles white, dragging him closer even though there was no space left. He tasted like heat, like fury held back too long, like he was finally letting himself feel and it was too much.

He broke the kiss with a curse, resting his forehead against yours again, chest heaving. “Shit,” he said, voice ruined. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

You kissed him again.

Faster this time. Needier.

His hands found your hips, fingers digging in just enough to ground himself. One of them slid up, tracing your jaw, brushing your cheek, like he didn’t know whether to hold you or memorize you.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, eyes glassy. “Do we still go back to being strangers tomorrow?”

Hiromi’s eyes searched yours—wild, flickering. And then he shook his head. Just once.

“No,” he said, hoarse. “Not after this.”

He didn’t move. Neither did you.

His hand was still at your jaw, rough and trembling, and your breath was uneven against his. Every inch between you charged, heated, collapsing.

You leaned into him, and he met you halfway—mouths clashing again, nothing sweet or soft about it. It was a kiss that bruised. A kiss that breathed. His mouth was hot, demanding, like he was trying to consume the moment, like he didn’t want to remember what it felt like to be without you.

Fingers curled in his shirt. His grip tightened at your waist. Each touch dragged you closer, a slow burn spilling through your chest and twisting in your stomach.

You kissed him like you wanted to stay lost in him. He kissed you like he never planned to stop.

There was no space left between your bodies. His thumb brushed your cheek like he couldn’t help it, like he wasn’t ready to let the moment end, and your hands slid into his hair, holding, grounding, needing.

The world around you was silent, but everything between you—every breath, every brush of skin, every beat of your heart—was impossibly loud.

And still, you didn’t let go. Not yet.

His hand found yours, warm and certain, and for a moment, the night felt like it belonged to only the two of you.

[imloyaltoscoups]

naughty temptation | yoon jeonghan

You sit in biology class, as you glance over at your boyfriend, Jeonghan, who seems to be lost in his own world. With a gentle nudge, you whisper, "Hey, pay attention to the professor."

Jeonghan looks at you with a mischievous grin. "But babe, I've got more interesting things to focus on," he replies playfully.

You raise an eyebrow, not quite sure what he means. But as the discussion shifts to the reproductive system, you suddenly feel his hand creeping up your exposed legs.

"Jeonghan!" you hiss, trying to suppress a giggle as you swat his hand away. "Not now, we're in class!"

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Can't help it," he whispers back, leaning in closer. "You're just too distracting."

"Stop it," you say firmly, squeezing his hand as it inches dangerously close to your underwear. He just smiles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know we shouldn't..."

His smile widens, and he leans in closer. "But it's so tempting, isn't it? Just think of all the naughty things we could do..."

You can't help but feel a rush of arousal at his sudden boldness, your breath hitching slightly. "I know, but... we really shouldn't..."

He chuckles softly, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns along your skin. "Maybe we shouldn't, but that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, does it?"

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and glance at Jeonghan, who seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself. With a quick scan around the classroom, you realize that you both are sitting at the back, with no other students beside you.

"Yoon Jeonghan, seriously," you whisper urgently, trying to keep your voice low. "Not here, okay? We'll get in trouble."

But Jeonghan just chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Come on, babe," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

You bite your lip, torn between the thrill of his touch and the fear of getting caught. But as his hand continues its tantalizing exploration, you can't help but feel a surge of arousal coursing through you. Despite your best efforts to resist, the temptation of his touch is simply too strong to ignore.

As Jeonghan's fingers traced small circles on your skin, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the lecture. "Jeonghan," you whisper, trying to sound stern despite the shiver his touch sends down your spine, "We really shouldn't be doing this in class."

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But you're not stopping me," he murmurs playfully, his fingers continuing their tantalizing movements.

Your cheeks flush as Jeonghan's teasing words send a jolt of arousal through you. "Jeonghan, stop," you whisper urgently, feeling the heat pooling between your thighs.

But he only smirks, his fingers continuing to brush against the fabric, making you squirm uncomfortably. "You're really getting wet, aren't you?" he taunts, his voice low and husky.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan, and instinctively close your thighs in a feeble attempt to regain control. But he's having none of it. "Open them up," he demands softly, his gaze intense as he meets your eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat as you reluctantly obey his command, feeling a rush of excitement mingled with apprehension at the thought of being so exposed in public. You slide your thighs apart, giving him easier access, your heart pounding in your chest.

As his fingers slip inside your underwear, you can't help but gasp, your hand instinctively flying to cover your mouth to stifle any sounds of pleasure that might escape. His touch sends shockwaves of sensation coursing through you, and you struggle to maintain your composure, torn between the need for discretion and the overwhelming desire building inside you.

You try to focus on the lecture, but Jeonghan's fingers persistently tease and tantalize, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Every subtle movement sends a wave of pleasure coursing through you, and you struggle to keep your composure.

Glancing back, you see Jeonghan's other hand casually resting on his chin, his gaze fixed on the projector screen where the professor is talking. It's as if he's completely absorbed in the lecture, his expression unreadable, while his fingers continue their illicit exploration beneath the desk.

You bite your lip, feeling a flush of heat rise to your cheeks as you realize the audacity of his actions.

Unconsciously, your hips begin to move in rhythm with Jeonghan's teasing fingers, betraying the growing arousal coursing through your body. You know you should stop, but the pleasure is too intense to resist.

You hear him chuckle softly, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, his voice low and suggestive. "Enjoying yourself, aren't you?" he murmurs, the hint of a smirk evident in his tone. "You can't resist me, can you?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan, acutely aware of the risk of being caught.

As Jeonghan skillfully inserts a third finger inside you, your head lowers instinctively, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure flooding your senses. His movements become faster, more urgent, driving you to the brink of ecstasy.

Suddenly, the professor's voice cuts through the haze of arousal. "Is everything alright?" he asks, concern evident in his tone.

Before you can even respond, Jeonghan smoothly interjects on your behalf. "Oh, she's just feeling a bit under the weather, but she'll be fine," he says, his voice calm and collected, as if discussing the weather.

The professor accepts Jeonghan's explanation with a nod, returning to his lecture without further inquiry, unaware of the illicit activity happening right under his nose. You exhale a shaky breath of relief, grateful for Jeonghan's quick thinking, though you can't help but marvel at his audacity. Despite the close call, the forbidden thrill of the moment only serves to heighten the intensity of your shared desire.

Jeonghan's whispered words draw you back to reality, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "We almost got caught because of you," he teases softly, his breath warm against your ear.

You're about to shoot him a glare in response when his fingers start moving again, igniting a surge of pleasure that makes coherent thought difficult. Your grip on his arm tightens instinctively, a silent plea for him to stop, but also an admission of your own inability to resist.

"You're such a menace," you mutter under your breath, a mixture of frustration and arousal lacing your words.

Jeonghan chuckles softly at your remark, taking it as a compliment rather than a reproach. "I'll take that as a compliment," he says with a smirk, his fingers moving even faster now, driving you closer to the edge.

You can feel your climax building, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you. "Jeonghan," you gasp, your voice barely a whisper, "I'm... I'm going to..."

But he interrupts you with a mischievous grin. "Let go," he murmurs, his voice filled with desire and command, pushing you over the edge into ecstasy.

As you reach your climax, you lower your head again, biting down on both hands to stifle any sound of pleasure that might escape. You feel the intensity of the moment wash over you, leaving you breathless and trembling with ecstasy.

Jeonghan withdraws his fingers from inside you, and before you can even process what's happening, he brings them to his lips, licking the remaining juices with a satisfied expression. "You taste delicious, babe," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

You blush furiously at his bold actions, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and arousal at the intimate exchange. Despite your protestations, a part of you can't help but be thrilled by his uninhibited desire.

Afterwards, Jeonghan acts as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, returning to his normal demeanor as if he hadn't just sent you spiraling into ecstasy. You can't help but marvel at his ability to switch between playful seduction and casual nonchalance, leaving you both exhilarated and utterly captivated by his charms.

As the bell rings, signaling the end of the lecture, Jeonghan leans in to whisper, "Thank you for making this class bearable."

You roll your eyes playfully. "I didn't learn anything, thanks to you," you retort with a smirk.

He grins back at you. "Well, who needs lectures when you can learn so much more interesting things with me?" he replies with a wink.

You playfully smack his arm. "You're just horny 24/7," you tease, unable to suppress a giggle.

He chuckles, unfazed by your comment. "Guilty as charged," he admits with a smirk. "Since we don't have any classes for today, why don't we head to my dorm and continue where we left off?"

You raise an eyebrow, considering his suggestion. "Hmm, tempting," you say with a grin, already imagining the possibilities. "Lead the way."

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

[hyewka]

alo! love ur sub beomgyu universe

could u write sub cat beomgyu being too clingy nd bratty that he gets punished by his owner or simply just being in unbearable heat nd begs for his owner to breed her??? hybrid fics r crazy mad nd im crazy

warnings; sub!gyu, hybrid au, not proofread

imagine kitty!beom who keeps looking over at you with a permanent pout on his face because you scolded him and told him to keep his distance for scratching you earlier. his bottom lip would wobble as he attempts to get you to make eye contact, kitty claws buried in the pillow hes holding tight against him but youre just not budging.

“i didnt mean it.” he finally breaks.

“you didnt mean what?” you dismissively mumble keeping your eyes on your laptop as you finish up your report.

he whines, throwing the pillow away to all of a sudden break your command and cling onto your arm. “you know i didnt mean to hurt you, i really didnt! please dont be mad”

“beomgyu you crossed the line, i told you to keep a distance.” you warn.

“who cares about the line! just tell me youre not mad!”

and ofc hes holding onto you and shaking you to try to get you to look at him like hes owed your forgiveness

kitty beomgyu who cant really sit through a punishment without purring and pressing his body flush to yours whining for you to forgive him that he’ll do better but that only has you snap and promptly put your hand down his pants to shut up his bratty adamant complaining. it does just that. having him bucking and panting already, its like he does this to get this exact reaction out of you, to have your hand wrapped around his dick. pumping it but not letting him cum. his loudness tonight has you getting a migraine so you end up shoving a finger in his watering mouth which he eagerly wraps his lips around sucking earnestly and moaning wantonly—slut.

when you can’t focus on doing two things at once you slip your fingers out of his mouth, a string of saliva breaking. the moment you do, he’s loud again, whining and mewling, you resort to slapping his thighs punishingly. “use your shirt kitty”

and as you pump his pretty cock, trying to focus on your computer, beomgyus biting the ends of his shirt so hard, he drenches it with his saliva he ends up tearing it which again serves to put you out of your productivity. you look over at him, a scowl thrown his way that he doesnt shy away from, this brat. “you cant even control yourself for more than two minutes?” you ask incredulously.

he doesnt even pretend, he immediately shakes his head. “i cant” he breathes out, “i need your pussy, feel like im gonna die”

“aww, kitten feels like he’s gonna die so i just have to give you my pussy don’t i?”

the audacity to nod has you scoff. “raise your arms.” despite how entitled hes been acting, he enthusiastically obliges. when you leave to get a scarf to makeshift a restraint he whines at the loss of your hands on his weeping cock. “what do you want your master to do beommie?” you implore, making sure to tie a tight knot.

he replies almost immediately, without skipping a beat. “wanna breed you.”

you laugh a scoff, straddling his lap, your clothed cunt grinding on his sensitive dick. you could tell it’s driving him to a brink already, he already attempts to break from the scarf. too bad you know how to tie your knots well. “breed me? beommie, let’s not get too absurd, it’s too much even for you.”

you dont expect for him to break so quickly but he does, starting to sniffle, his cute ears twitching uncontrollably, tears welling up in his round eyes. “sit on my cock….p-please.”

you slide the soft cotton of your panties up and down his wet dick, pouting mockingly at the way his face falls into a distraught show of his arousal. his mouth hangs open and hes drooling like a mutt you have to slap him to get him to behave. “don’t be dirty. look pretty with your lips shut.” you say, mouthing at his bare neck.

you can easily pick up on his close mouthed whimper, his pathetic attempt at fucking your heat doesn’t serve to do anything for him and it turns you on even more. “wanna cum on my panties? wanna soil it with your little seed?” you goad, getting breathy yourself as you increase your speed on his fat cock, letting your weight engulf it even more.

he shakes his head, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks. “baby please, i-im gonna die, i’m g-gonna—hic—im gonna burst, baby. it hurts. i don’ wanna cum, jus wanna be in your pretty cunt,”

he lets out another broken plead when you rub his earflaps in circles, making it extra soothing just like he loves, “let it all out kitty, its okay” you drawl

he almost does just that, letting out a deep purr, his tummy untensing. but then its like he snaps out of it, shaking his head in defiance. “dont want to. if im gonna cum its gonna be in your pussy, ill have you drip with my-”

you dig your fingers in his bare skin and he yelps, jolting, uncontrollably sobbing by this point. “jeez, so sensitive. what a baby. arent you, kitty? just a baby needing to be tamed.”

speeding up, having the head of cock brush against your clit every now, then he finally spills his load, warmth spreading on the bed, dirtying your sheets. his chest’s heaving, and you take some time to look over his tummy, his shirt completely ruined.

“you’re cute” you conclude getting off his softening dick. “but now im serious, dont misbehave. i really need to get my work done, ‘kay beommie?”

he huffs, pouting and turning his head, practically giving you the silent treatment as you shower him with praises, untying the scarf around his wrists and cleaning his thighs up, his stuck up nature shining through. you find it mildly annoying at worst but adorably very beomgyu. you hum in contentment, what a cute brat

[princessbrunette]

outlaw!johnb had tried not to take advantage of your sweet body during his stay. what transpired between the two of you on the evening you met felt wrong. not-gentlemanly. like he’d taken advantage of someone sweet and sheltered. he’d been determined to keep his hands to himself until the time was right once more, but as your parents extended their stay away — leaving the house for the two of you to be alone in even longer, he found it increasingly more difficult to do so. especially when you were so keen on playing house.

you’d settled into a routine. john b would get up and tend to the ‘handyman’ things that needed to be tended to, like fixing the fence that had been destroyed in the storm or odd jobs around the house, and you would do all the domestic stuff — like cleaning, preparing meals, tending to the animals. today was laundry day, and clearly the routledge boy was ill prepared for what this meant.

whilst hammering away at the planks of wood beneath the blistering sun, the wavy haired brunette raises his head to see you appearing not far from him, a laundry basket balanced on your hip, wearing the flimsiest, shortest white sundress known to man. he allows his gaze to wander, offering you a small smile when you wave. you set your basket down to begin hanging up laundry on the line to dry, and as you bend down to retrieve the first clean clothing item — a warm breeze gently blows your dress astray, displaying your glistening cunt. john b tips his head towards the sky, closing his eyes with a pained groan. there would be no stopping him.

he tried, for a solid minute — but as he continued to watch you bend, your folds gently spreading each time you did so, he grew hard beneath the hot sun and decided enough was enough. he’d give you what you’d been pawing at him for all week.

“uh, are you kidding? you’ve got to be doing this on purpose. right?” that familiar chesty hum comes from behind you as you hang up a dress and you freeze, a gentle breeze washing over you.

“s’laundry day, john b.” you shrug, not daring to turn around. you wasn’t sure if you could control your lustful gaze.

“yeah? okay well — the lack of underwear is definitely gonna make this a lot easier.” he mutters as he strides closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his crotch to your ass. “touch your toes, sweetheart.” he commands and you shakily do so with an aroused whimper.

he decides it’s not enough, and when you’re fully bent at the waist, he gives you a gentle nudge forward and you topple onto your knees in the plush grass. “yep, stay riiiight there.” his words are somehow comforting as you hear his belt buckle unlock and his zipper come down. he pulls your dress up your back and swears under his breath at your puffy wet pussy staring back at him. “definitely… knew what you were doing there, huh.” he speaks mostly to himself.

“can you please try n’give me a baby this time, daddy?” you mewl, as he lines himself up and he squeezes his eyes shut.

“please shut up.” he blurts out before opening them. “i mean, uh… just… you can’t say those things sweetheart. trying real hard not to be too rough here.” he pushes in and your toes curl in the grass, a high pitch squeal leaving you as you grasp around at nothing. “i know, hey— stick with me here lil’ pup.” he coaches you, watching the way your body tries its best to relax. john b was big, and taking him with your ass in the air and your cheek in the dirt made him feel heaps bigger.

he bottoms out, tipping his hips completely forward with two hands on your lower back and his jaw agape. “wow.” he breathes out, staring intently at the way you’re stretched around his thickness. he’s snapped from his trance by your head craning round, some dirt on your cheek and grass in your hair.

“john b, the cows are gonna watch you give me a baby.” you’re pouting, and whilst the whole innocent act turns him on — he needed to lock in or he’d really cum inside you again. without much thought, he yanks his bandana from his neck and stuffs it into your mouth before gently pushing your cheek back to the grass.

“there you go. just hold on for me, okay?” he asks before he starts to thrust, bottoming out each time making his thighs slap against your ass cheeks. with each thrust, you let out a devastating little sound — pussy drooling around him. “see? gooood girl. you really like the whole mean, ruffian, outlaw thing, huh? soaking me here, bub.”

[aluciahaz]

may i just say that your character writing is AMAZING! i honestly don’t check up on your blog a lot but when i do i’m left SHAKING because your shit is soooo hot.

Anyways i humbly come requesting mommy kink with vox because you know i’m all about that. he’s so desperate for validation and scared of rejection i feel like he’d be weeping at a domme mommy type reader. Anyways, do what you want with this!

once again i love your work! sincerely, bimbo <3

oh my god it's one of my favorite writers on tumblr🦅 thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot 😭 also i loved writing this ive desperately needed more vox asks! hope you enjoy! (kinda went ham on metaphors 💀 mb)

greed never stops

—vox x f!reader

—includes: overstim, tons of crying, begging, light bondage

vox was a walking, living(?) juxtaposition.

he’ll go barking orders to his subordinates, control most situations with smooth, quick thinking, and command his business with an iron fist.

but with you, the other side of his screen is on full display. his vulnerable, attention-desperate, failure-fearful self. you’ve seen it enough times to notice how it seeps into his daily life. how his control is really just a mechanism to take hold of his vulnerability, hiding it behind a mess of steel wires to make anyone who would try and reach it get tangled in its grasp.

but the moments he lets you untangle his facade, allowing you to see his true self, he feels free. even if most of the time it was during more intimate moments in the night. it was where he could truly indulge in his unfamiliar desires, crying and begging for the validation he was always seeking.

and you were the one he needed it from.

your praise was one of the highest in the hierarchy of compliments, making him feel like he was burning up, frying his brain in a way that made him feel like he’s short-circuited, but the feeling of fuzziness was intoxicating. he could never give up the taste of your compliments.

“come on, aren’t you a good boy? you can hold out for a little longer.”

those words were like rich liquor, and vox was an eager drinker. it swirled his thoughts into a never-ending spiral, and he could only cry in response as you touched his face with a gentleness that rivals an angel’s.

“b-but, mommy—!” he sobs as your fingers drive into him for what seems the thousandth time, his voice module starting to struggle as he tries to speak.

“oh?” you raise your eyebrow, feigning shock before narrowing your eyes, pressing him further down the sheets in disdain. is he still being ungrateful?

“but what, huh? don’t tell me you need more already! you’re such a greedy fucking slut,” you spit out, watching his eyes shoot open from the whiplash of your cruel words. “maybe i should stop—,”

“NO! nono, please! no! i’m sorry—!” he keens as your fingers slowly start to slip out of him, the sound so indecent it makes him shiver.

he pushes his hips up into your hand, trying to follow them only for your other hand to shove his hips back down on the sheets, your fingers twisting nearly all the way out before ramming back in, curling in wickedly that seems to shut him up briefly as he catches a breath that ran away.

vox weeps, unable to do anything else as his claws rip into the mattress, his legs shake and tremble as though they weren’t practically crushing you before. he seems so fragile at this moment, yet you knew he could take much more.

he just didn’t deserve it.

he whines and screams at your touch, tears starting to fall down his pretty little face as the small amount of dignity he had seems to get lost, overrun by your torturous fingers and unyielding pleasure that shoots through his body like a current.

“mommy—ha—please jus—zz—t fuck me, oh, god!” his head drops back down onto the pillows as your fingers wrap around his weeping cock, making his back arch as he sobs out noncoherent pleads. it’s beautifully pathetic.

his legs, weak and feeble, were strewn across the bed with previous markings trailing up his inner thigh, his neck even more decorated with a necklace of red, the glimmer of sweat that covers his whole body making those bites shine similar to crude rubies.

his hands, now tied with his own wires behind the bed (he charges there before he goes to sleep) were sullied with crimson from the tightness of the metal around his wrist, but not as bright crimson as his eyes, which flashed with bright red hearts intermittently. it was always a pleasant surprise, and a sign that he fucking loved this. no matter how much he complained at the start, his eyes spoke the truth.

which is why now, as you replace your fingers with his favorite strap, you know he’s absolutely overjoyed as those beating hearts seem to overtake his pupils once more, pulsating with a hypnotizing spiral.

“finally—! oh—zzz—FUCK!” his last word is practically inaudible with the airiness in his voice, his tone starting to distort, yet, your pace was slow. shallow, even. tears of frustration started to form at the ends of his eyes, his whines more pitiful as he tries to fuck himself back on your strap, only to be stopped by your sturdy grip on his hips.

“what do you say, vox?“ you asked, irritation slipping into your voice. how could he still be so ungrateful? but, he catches on fast, looking up at you with round, glossy eyes.

“thank you! thank—thank you, mommy!” he stumbles out before you switch up your pace instantly, brutally ramming into him just how he likes it. it makes him unable to fathom he could have been known to be anything but yours, surrendering his well-built persona to you. all of it, for your praise.

“such a good boy.”

those words were priceless, but he always ends up trying to buy them with obedience. and even though he’s successfully checked out with such praise, they still have the same effect on him every time.

he shudders and wails with ruined pitch, his screen flickering in and out of error messages and his lovely expression as he gets his reward. there was just something so satisfying about earning your praise.

sure, he can buy pretty much anything, and yes, he can get people to kneel at his feet, but he can’t cry without shame, or indulge in his true desires of being completely wrecked with soft words and fast hips with anyone. no, it could only be you. and even if he practically has everything under his hands, he will always be greedy for your affection, begging, screaming for a chance to have it set his whole body ablaze with its foreign warm feeling.

it makes him lost. no matter how much intelligence vox has, he always finds himself unable to search his way out of the feeling of pure lust overtaking his senses when you fuck him with abandon, his need to keep face seemingly never being there in the first place as tears make him short-circuit, and pleads for you to never stop. he doesn’t want to leave this labyrinth of carnality. he wants to stay lost in it forever.

it’s why even after he cums with a high-pitch sob so loud you thought his volume module broke, he kept weeping incoherently as the lights flicker in the room, his legs practically numb. and finally, he looks up at you, sniffling and choking on his words he’ll pretend to regret the next morning.

“m-more. please, mommy—! AH!” his whole body jolts as you heed his wishes, leaving him to fall back into the pleasure that he craves. he babbles on and on with thank yous and nonsensical sentences, the night seeming to become never-ending even with daybreak inching closer and closer.

vox is unable to speak at the end, and god does everything fucking hurt. his arms ache and his legs are definitely going to be an issue when he has to walk. there are marks all over his skin that will never see the light of day, yet be around for plenty of nights.

but you both know he’ll come back for more. his greed is an unquenchable thirst, and your praise is the only fountain that seems to satiate it, even if only for a little while.

(i totally didnt forget to tag)

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @mvskedxrtist @drlucichen @luciferspetduck

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝘿𝘼𝙔 𝙁𝙄𝙑𝙀: Collaring w/ Emily Prentiss

a/n: okay so with this one, it isn't very smutty, more of like a study on the dom/sub dynamic as a whole, but of course, what would kinktober be without a little spice?

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

It’s so subtle that if anyone didn’t have any knowledge of BDSM, they would’ve missed it.

The collar that Emily had given you was a simple heart, the metal your favorite. The only thing that sets it aside from other necklaces is the fact that, instead of a clasp, it’s a lock that only comes off if the other person has a key.

You like the way it sits on your chest, right between your collarbones, close enough to your heart, because Emily owns it. She owns you. You’re hers as much as she’s yours.

It’s a not-so-gentle reminder of her authority and control over you, that one wrong move and she’d have you bent over her lap and spanked, or maybe tied up and edged with a vibrator before not letting you cum for a few days (or weeks).

Sometimes the metal itself helps to ground you, the added weight of it keeps you level headed, and your hand more often than not flocks there to fiddle with it, to scratch at it, just to remind you that you’re there and you have someone in your corner.

Other times, it gets you to behave. Like now.

You’d been acting out all day in tiny ways, snapping a bit at your coworkers, or not listening as well as you should, and it’s quite frankly pissing her off.

The moment she sees you, you know you’re done for. She has that look in her eye – the ‘Dom Look’ – as you like to call it; her irises are dark, her lids hooded just so that she could pin you with her gaze alone, but usually a raised brow joins in on its appearance.

You prance up to her, holding back a shiver as she takes your hand wordlessly and takes you into an empty conference room where she shoves you against the door, two fingers slipping under the chain of your collar and tugging.

“The fuck are you doing?” Her words are mean and harsh and you tremble. Your arms fall obediently next to you, because you’re not sure what would happen if you’d try and touch her.

“Nothing.” You breathe out shakily. It’s not the truth nor is it a lie. You just felt bratty. A part of you wanted to cause a bit of chaos. 

“You know how I feel about lying. Are you trying to get punished, huh?” There’s another tug at the chain and you stumble. “Jus’ felt a bit bratty, ‘s all.” You’re slipping like sand between your fingers, assuming your role because she commands it so.

“Why? Do I not take care of you?” You open your mouth but she stops you. “No. I know what it is. You’re too fucking spoiled. You always get away with shit because I let you, but I will not –” She takes a deep breath and corners you, shoving you against the wood of the door.

“Do you hear me? I will not let you walk all over me, ‘cause that’s my job, yeah?”

Your eyelashes flutter at how close her face is to yours, her heavy pants of air caress the spit-soaked surface of your lips.

“Yes, ma’am.” You squeak out. “Good.” She leans down to place a harsh, heated kiss on your lips before parting from you, the two fingers anchoring you to her slipping from beneath the jewelery.

“Now, you get out there, and be a good girl, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Perfect.”

Of course, she doesn’t let you leave without a quick swat to your pencil skirt covered ass. It stings all the way to your desk, and you sit down more pleased and less wired than you were before.

The dull ache of redness no doubt welting on your skin is evidence of that.

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[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman//// Crowned in Darkness

Warnings: Mature Themes, Age gap, Infidelity, Domestic Turmoil, Violence, Manipulation and Control, Emotional Abuse, and Pregnancy

The frontman, also known to some as Hwang In-ho, wears a mask of authority and mystery, but behind the scenes, there’s a side of him only you know. He’s married to a woman named Ji-won, elegant, composed, and every bit the perfect wife on paper. But their marriage is built more on appearance and obligation than passion. Their world is one of image and power, and Ji-won plays her role to perfection, keeping her distance, knowing full well the man she married has his secrets.

You, on the other hand, are something else entirely. You’re not just a secret, you're his thrill, his partner in crime, the one who sees the man behind the mask, the one he lets loose with. You don’t ask too many questions, and he likes that. You move in the shadows with him, sharp, clever, and just as dangerous. He doesn’t hide his affection for you, not even when he should. He flirts shamelessly, his words heavy with heat, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

He doesn’t mind spending his money on you, in fact, he enjoys it. gifts show up without warning: designer clothes, sleek phones, keys to penthouses you didn’t even ask for. He says it’s nothing, just a gesture, but the look in his eyes says more. When you run errands for him, when you cover his tracks or feed him information, he watches you with that dark, calculating gaze that always softens when it lands on you.

With Ji-won, he plays the dutiful husband. With you, he’s himself. You don’t need titles or labels; the game you two play is deeper than that. And while the world sees him as the cold, ruthless overseer of something horrific, you see the man who lets his guard down only when you’re near.

The danger, the secrecy, the lies it all fuels the fire between you. And Hwang in-ho He doesn’t mind. Not the risks, not the betrayal. As long as you stay by his side, he’ll give you the world, one blood-soaked coin at a time.

Ji-won was never one to lose her composure in public. She was raised to be refined, graceful, and unreadable, the perfect companion to a man like Hwang in-ho. But even the most polished glass can crack under pressure, and today, something inside her snapped.

She noticed it the moment you stepped into the room. The necklace caught her eye first, a rare piece, gleaming under the low light, its diamonds catching every flicker like fireflies in the dark. She knew that necklace. Not the brand, not the design, but the price. She knew exactly what it cost, and more importantly, she knew it hadn’t come from your own wallet.

You were dressed simply, not flaunting, not trying to stir anything. But you didn’t have to. The necklace did all the talking.

Ji-won’s eyes sharpened, her polite smile slowly freezing over. She crossed the room, her heels clicking against the marble with precision, the calm before the storm. People stepped aside without realizing why there was something electric in the air, something ready to explode.

She stopped in front of you, and for a moment, you just stared at each other two women on opposite ends of the same man, both beautiful, both dangerous, but in very different ways.

“Interesting choice,” she said, her voice sweet and sharp like poisoned honey. Her gaze dropped to the necklace, then slowly lifted back to your face. “You don’t strike me as someone who could afford something like that.”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t need to. You knew what you were doing, and so did she. Her tone grew colder. “Or maybe you have a very generous admirer. One who forgets he’s already married.”

Her words hung in the air, bold and reckless, a rare break in her composure. She was about to say more, to let the venom pour out but then you both heard the door open.

In-ho stepped in, silent but commanding, his presence pulling the atmosphere tight like a noose.

Ji-won turned to him sharply, a flicker of guilt and fury crossing her face. “Do you know what she’s wearing?” she asked, her voice now trembling with emotion, though she tried to hold it back. “Do you know what people are going to think?”

He looked at her calmly, then at you. His eyes lingered on your neck, a small smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.

“I bought it,” he said simply, voice low and deliberate. “And I don’t care what they think.”

Ji-won blinked, thrown off by his lack of pretense. She wasn’t used to him being this blunt not in front of others, not when it came to you. Her voice faltered. “You don’t care—?”

“No,” he said again, sharper this time, shutting her down with just that one word. “You knew what this was.”

There was a silence, heavy and suffocating. Ji-won’s jaw clenched, the anger now laced with something deeper hurt, maybe, or humiliation. She looked at you one last time, eyes burning, then turned on her heel and walked away without another word.

In-ho watched her leave, then looked back at you, eyes softer now. He stepped closer, adjusted the necklace slightly, and whispered so only you could hear, “Let them talk. You’re the only one who matters.”

And just like that, the mask slipped again. Not for them. Just for you.

The silence of their penthouse was broken not by crashing glass or raised voices not at first but by the quiet fury in Ji-won’s footsteps as she followed In-ho down the marble hallway. The confrontation had been building for days, maybe even years. Tonight, it finally broke free.

“You humiliated me in front of everyone,” Ji-won said, her voice taut with emotion. “Do you have any idea what that felt like? To see you defend her to admit you’re spending your money on some girl who—”

“Enough,” In-ho snapped, turning around suddenly, his tone sharp as a blade. He wasn’t yelling, but his voice carried the kind of power that made the room feel colder. “You’re not the victim here, Ji-won. Stop pretending this marriage is something it hasn’t been for years.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back down. “I gave you my life, in-ho. I stood by you. I was loyal—”

He laughed, bitter and cruel, the sound echoing off the high ceilings like mockery. “Loyal?” he repeated. “You were loyal to the lifestyle. To the money. To the name. Let’s not rewrite history now.”

Ji-won’s hands clenched at her sides. “I deserve respect.”

“No, what you deserve,” he growled, walking over to the tall mirror on the wall, “is a reality check.” He pointed directly at her reflection. “Come. Look at you.”

She hesitated, but the venom in his words forced her to turn her head, staring at her own image.

“You’re not beautiful anymore,” he said coldly. “You’re not young, not fresh, not anything special. You’re just a bitter woman clinging to a man who doesn’t want her.”

Her face twitched, pain breaking through the mask she always wore. “You think I won’t leave you?” she spat. “I’ll file for divorce. I will ruin you—”

He chuckled darkly, eyes narrowing. “Ruin me?” He stepped closer, towering over her now. “Let me remind you, Ji-won, everything you have is because of me. The cars, the house, the clothes, the friends who pretend to like you? Strip my name from your life and what’s left? You think a judge is going to side with you? You think a lawyer will take on someone like me and win?”

His words landed like punches, slow and deliberate. She tried to look away, but he caught her chin with his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze for one last blow.

“I can leave you with nothing.”

He let go of her, stepping back, his expression already cooling, as if she was just another problem dealt with. He turned as if to leave the room, then paused, tossing one last dagger over his shoulder.

“And don’t ever tell me how to spend my money, especially not on a woman like Y/N.” He looked back at her with a smirk. “She’s everything you’re not. Young. Beautiful. Desired.”

Ji-won didn’t respond. Couldn’t. She just stood there, staring at her reflection, the silence louder than any scream, while In-ho disappeared down the hallway, already moving on from the wreckage he left behind.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but there was nothing soft about the man who stepped out. In-ho’s expression was unreadable, his jaw set tight, his eyes dark with something that burned just beneath the surface rage, desire, maybe both. The air around him practically crackled as he approached, each step purposeful, calculated, like a predator who had already chosen his prey.

You were waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the velvet chaise in that silk robe he liked no, craved legs crossed, eyes calm, but not naïve. You could feel it radiating off him the moment he entered. Something had happened. You didn’t even have to ask.

He stopped in front of you, towering over you, and for a moment, he just stared down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with that dangerous smirk you knew all too well.

“She gave you shit, didn’t she?” you said softly, tilting your head.

He let out a dark, humorless chuckle as he took off his jacket and tossed it aside. “She always does,” he murmured. “But tonight… she crossed the line.”

He moved closer, his fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your chin up with a kind of command that didn’t need words. “Let me help you relax,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, but thick with intent.

That’s when his eyes narrowed, his smirk deepening into something feral, something wicked. “You really do know how to make me happy, don’t you?” he muttered, voice gravel low, laced with lust and control.

Then, without warning, he grabbed your waist and pulled you up into him. His mouth crashed against yours in a kiss that was anything but tender deep, rough, claiming. His hands roamed your body with urgency, gripping your hips like he owned them, fingers digging into silk and skin as if trying to erase the memory of the fight he just left behind.

Your back hit the nearest wall, but you didn’t flinch. His body pinned you there, hot and solid, his mouth trailing down your jaw, biting just enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you gasp. He growled against your neck, voice husky.

“She said I should be ashamed of spending my money on you,” he said, nipping at your earlobe. “But she’s wrong. You—” he pressed his hips harder against you, “—you are the only thing worth spending everything on.”

Your robe slipped open beneath his touch, silk falling away like it was nothing, and he looked at you like you were the most dangerous thing in the world because to him, you were. The one person who could bring him peace or set him on fire.

He leaned in again, lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “Tonight, you’re mine. Every damn part of you.”

And the way he kissed you was possessive, hungry, desperate and left no room for doubt. He wasn’t just trying to forget the fight. He was trying to burn away every trace of it… with you.

The next morning, the sun filtered weakly through the tall windows of their penthouse, casting long, cold shadows across the marble floor. Ji-won sat at the grand dining table, perfectly dressed, makeup done to cover the puffiness around her eyes. A half-eaten breakfast sat in front of her untouched since the moment the staff brought it in.

She heard the door open. Heard his footsteps before she saw him. In-ho strolled in like he hadn’t just torn their lives apart the night before. Calm. Composed. Still in the same tailored coat, collar slightly crooked, the faint scent of perfume clinging to him and it wasn’t hers.

Ji-won’s grip tightened around the porcelain teacup in her hand, but she kept her tone neutral, even sweet. “Where were you last night?”

He stopped mid-stride, looking at her with a slow, deliberate turn of his head. That smirk tugged at his lips again, not playful, but taunting. Cold.

“You already know,” he said, his voice low and cutting. “So why are you asking?”

Ji-won stiffened. “I’m your wife. I have a right to know.”

He chuckled and walked toward the bar, pouring himself a drink of whiskey with no ice like it was any other morning, like he hadn’t left her drowning in humiliation just hours ago.

“No,” he said without looking at her, taking a slow sip. “You had a right to know. Years ago. Before we became strangers under the same roof. Before we started pretending this thing we have is anything more than an arrangement.”

“I deserve better than this,” she snapped, the cracks finally showing in her voice.

He turned to face her then, eyes narrowing slightly. “You deserve what you settled for. And you settled for this life. The name. The money. The power. You wanted a man who could give you all of it. And now you’re upset because I’m giving someone else the parts of me you never really cared about.”

Her eyes glistened, but she blinked the tears away. “She’s just a phase.”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “No,” he said quietly, voice like a threat. “You were the phase.”

Ji-won recoiled like she’d been slapped, but In-ho was already walking away, drink still in hand, his expression unmoved. Just before disappearing down the hall, he threw one last look over his shoulder.

“If you can’t handle the truth, don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

And just like that, he vanished, leaving her sitting at a table built for two, with a cold breakfast, cold tea, and a marriage that had long since died buried beneath diamonds, silence, and the echo of heels walking away.

The following week, Ji-won moved with quiet, burning purpose. Her pride was bleeding, but she wasn’t going to let herself drown in shame not yet. She still had influence. She still had her name. And most of all, she still had connections.

Or so she thought.

The office was expensive, sleek, modern, nestled in a skyscraper where high-profile people paid high-profile prices to have their dirty secrets handled discreetly. The lawyer across from her was sharp, confident, and known for making powerful men bleed in court. Exactly the weapon she thought she needed.

She laid it all out, carefully curated her pain. Her voice was calm, but the tremble in her hand betrayed the storm behind her words. “My husband is having an affair, Publicly.” she said with practiced calm. “With a much younger woman. I want a divorce. And I want everything I deserve.”

The lawyer leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Do you have proof?”

Ji-won’s lips curled in bitter satisfaction as she reached into her purse and slid her phone across the table. “This is her. He bought her a necklace worth more than my car. He’s been seen with her, traveling, dining, showing her off like some prize. You tell me if this isn’t humiliating.”

The lawyer picked up the phone, swiped once, and stopped.

His face changed.

She noticed it immediately. His eyes widened just slightly not in surprise, but in interest. There was a silence as he studied the photo. A photo of you hair falling perfectly, skin glowing under soft lighting, that confident smirk on your lips. It was clear you weren’t just some side fling. You were magnetic. Powerful. Dangerous.

And stunning.

Ji-won’s stomach twisted as she watched his reaction. “You know who she is?” she asked, voice tightening.

The lawyer didn’t answer right away. He set the phone down carefully, then leaned forward.

“You want my honest opinion?” he said, his tone shifting into something more cautious. “You’re going to have a very hard time winning this.”

“What?” Ji-won blinked. “Why?”

He sighed. “Because your husband isn’t stupid. He’s protected. Legally, financially, socially. You may be his wife, but the contracts he’s built around himself are ironclad. And if you want the truth—” he gestured toward the photo of you, “—if this is the woman he’s seeing, I can already tell you how this will go.”

Ji-won stiffened. “You’re judging the case based on how she looks?”

“I’m judging the leverage,” he said, blunt now. “She’s young. She’s sharp. And clearly, she knows how to hold his attention, maybe even his trust. That’s dangerous. That means he’s not just cheating, he's invested in her. Which means he’s not afraid to let this marriage collapse. And trust me, if it comes to a court battle, every lawyer and every judge who’s seen this kind of case will know who holds the cards.”

Her throat went dry.

“You think he’ll leave me with nothing?” she asked quietly.

The lawyer gave her a sympathetic smile. “He already promised you he would. And I believe him.”

Ji-won stood abruptly, grabbing her phone with trembling fingers, her heartbeat ringing in her ears. The lawyer didn’t stop her. He didn’t need to. She’d already lost the moment she tried to fight a man like In-ho… over a woman like you.

As the elevator doors closed behind her, Ji-won felt something cold settle in her chest.

She had underestimated you, the girl with the diamond necklace, the knowing eyes, the wicked smile.

And she had severely underestimated the man who gave it all to you.

The control room was dark, quiet except for the low hum of machinery and the occasional flicker of the monitors lining the wall. Dozens of screens glowed in front of you, each one displaying a different angle of the game. Players moved across the arena, unaware of how closely they were being watched. Unaware that their fates were being decided from the comfort of a room high above their reality.

You sat beside In-ho, legs crossed elegantly, your eyes lazily tracking one of the more desperate players sprinting across the field, unaware the game was already stacked against him. It was always entertaining watching people claw and crumble for a sliver of survival. But it wasn’t the games that made the room feel intoxicating tonight.

It was him.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung across the back of yours, his other hand lazily tracing the rim of a glass filled with aged bourbon. The flicker of the screens painted his face in shadows, making him look even more dangerous, more untouchable.

You could feel his eyes on you before he spoke.

“They’re pathetic,” he murmured, voice low and velvety. “But you… You don’t belong down there. You belong here. Beside me.”

You turned to face him, one brow raised, teasing. “And where’s here exactly? On the throne of death?”

He smirked, slow and wolfish. “On the right side of power.”

Then, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all night, he reached into the inside pocket of his coat. When his hand emerged, it wasn’t a gun or a keycard or some cold reminder of control.

It was a velvet box.

He placed it in your hand with deliberate care, watching you closely as you opened it.

Inside were two diamond rings, one sleek and deadly, with sharp-cut edges and a blackened band that shimmered like obsidian under the screen light. The other was softer in shape, but no less brilliant icy diamonds lined in a halo around a rare, deep sapphire that burned like a secret.

Your breath caught slightly. Not because you were surprised you’d grown used to his extravagance. But because the rings weren’t just expensive. They were intentional.

He watched your reaction, his smirk deepening.

“Two rings,” he said softly. “One for every part of you I’m claiming is the one the world sees… and the one only I know.”

You tilted your head, smile spreading slow and dangerous. “You really are obsessed with me, aren’t you?”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and full of promise. “Completely. And I don’t care who knows it.”

You slipped the rings onto your fingers, admiring the way they gleamed a warning and a gift. A symbol of power, of possession, and something darker that neither of you would dare name out loud.

The screens flickered again. One of the players dropped. Blood bloomed across the arena floor.

You didn’t even blink.

“Do you want to watch the rest?” you asked, turning back to him, your fingers now adorned with diamonds and fire.

He smiled, but his eyes were locked on you, not the monitors.

“I already got what I came for.”

And in that dark, cold room where people died for sport, where lives were traded for entertainment you were the one thing untouchable.

And he was never going to let you go.

The restaurant was carved into the top floor of one of Seoul’s most exclusive towers, all glass walls and dim chandeliers, where power was passed between wine glasses and sealed with a handshake beneath linen tablecloths. Every seat was sacred. Every guest was carefully chosen.

It was a dinner meeting with investors and dignitaries, men and women who dressed like royalty and played games with billions like they were throwing dice. These were the kinds of events Ji-won used to attend by his side, dressed in tailored gowns, smiling like a porcelain doll, saying just enough and never more.

But tonight, she wasn’t invited.

You were.

You stepped into the room before In-ho, dressed in a gown that clung like smoke black silk, slit high on your thigh, the kind of dress that whispered sin with every step. The diamond rings he gave you sparkled under the lights, and the necklace, another gift, sat perfectly against your collarbone, as if made just for you.

And they all looked.

Not just glanced. Stared.

The room hushed for a moment when you entered, as if someone had walked in with a gun instead of a smile. Conversations stumbled, forks paused mid-air. Their gazes swept over you, head to toe not with judgment, but something far more unsettling. Awe.

The whispers started before you even reached the table.

“Is that her?”

“She’s stunning…”

“She’s not what I expected. She’s— she’s better.”

You heard it all. You felt it. The way the women sized you up, realizing you weren’t some naive trophy. You were sharper than them. More alive. The way the men blinked too slowly, couldn’t look away, how even the oldest among them shifted in their chairs as if pulled by something magnetic.

You sat beside In-ho like you belonged there because you did.

He didn’t introduce you as a business partner. He didn’t offer excuses. He simply pulled out your chair like a man who knew he could bring whoever he wanted, and this is who he chose. His hand lingered on your lower back a second longer than necessary, his fingers possessive, almost daring them to ask where his wife was.

None of them did.

The investors’ eyes kept drifting toward you, their wives trying not to look threatened, but failing. One of them, a silver-haired chairman with a watch worth more than most homes, leaned over during the third course and smiled politely at In-ho.

“You’ve done well,” he said, nodding subtly in your direction. “She’s… different from the usual.”

In-ho’s eyes cut to you, then back to the man with that same dark smirk. “She’s exactly what I’ve been missing.”

You sipped your wine slowly, catching every single word. You didn’t need to respond. Your presence did enough talking.

By dessert, no one remembered Ji-won’s name. She was just the woman who used to be here.

You?

You were the new queen at the table. And they all knew it.

The penthouse was dim when in-ho stepped through the door, the soft click of his shoes echoing through the marble-floored foyer. He loosened his tie with one hand, the other slipping his phone into his pocket. The dinner meeting had been a success, deals signed, numbers agreed upon, and you on his arm the entire night like a living trophy no one could ignore. You had been radiant, magnetic, effortless. Exactly the kind of woman a man like him should be seen with.

But as he moved through the quiet space, he could feel the tension thickening with every step. The soft light from the crystal chandelier in the hallway revealed Ji-eun standing by the bar, arms crossed, still dressed in the emerald green robe she always wore when she wanted to be seen. Her hair was pinned up, but messier than usual, like she’d been pacing. Waiting.

“Wow,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and venom. “You took her to the dinner meeting. Instead of me. Your wife.”

in-ho didn’t stop walking, didn’t even flinch. He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, his movements slow, deliberate. Controlled.

“I figured you’d hear about it,” he said flatly, heading toward the bar and pouring himself a drink. “Didn’t think you’d still be awake to whine about it.”

Ji-eun’s heels tapped sharply across the floor as she followed him, her voice rising. “That was a corporate dinner. With partners I’ve hosted for years. And you show up with some girl who doesn’t know the difference between a portfolio and a plate.”

He took a sip, then turned to face her, eyes cold. “They didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I’d say they were quite… impressed.”

“You embarrassed me,” she snapped.

“No,” he said, voice sharper now. “You embarrassed yourself by thinking you still belong at my side when we both know that role is long gone.”

She froze, pain flashing across her face, quickly masked by anger. “So you’re just replacing me now? Just like that?”

He laughed bitterly. “Replacing you? Ji-eun, I haven’t looked at you in years. You’ve been more concerned about appearances and handbags than about us. You were the wife who played the part, kept quiet, smiled at the right people. But that’s all it ever was apart.”

“I’ve stood beside you for everything!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “Your name, your company, your empire I helped build.”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “No, you stood beside me because you liked the power, the money. But you never understood what it meant to carry it.”

She stared at him, breath trembling. “So she does?”

He smirked, his eyes dark. “Y/N walks into a room and turns heads without saying a word. She doesn’t need to pretend to be what I want she already is. Young. Stunning. Smart. And real.”

Ji-eun’s mouth parted slightly, stunned silent. He leaned in, just close enough for her to see how serious he was.

“You want to talk about respect? You lost mine the moment you thought being my wife would always be enough. It isn’t. Not anymore.”

He turned his back on her, walking toward the bedroom like the conversation was done. And to him, it was.

Ji-eun stood there, frozen in the middle of a life that had just been ripped out from under her, the shadows of the penthouse swallowing her whole.

She’d always believed he would never truly leave her out in the cold.

But now, it was obvious he already had.

Ji-eun felt her heart pounding as she stepped into the dimly lit bedroom. She had meticulously prepared herself, donning the red lace lingerie that in-ho had once praised as his favorite. The delicate fabric hugged her curves, accentuating her feminine assets. She had styled her long black hair in loose waves, letting it cascade over her shoulders. Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with mischief as she stood at the doorway, her breath held in anticipation.

She expected to find In-ho sprawled on the bed, ready to be dazzled by her surprise. Instead, the sight that greeted her made her blood run cold. There, on their marital bed, was her husband, his naked body intertwined with yours

you gasped as you felt in-ho’s hard cock thrust deep inside you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you. as his own wife Ji-eun was watching from the doorway, tears streaming down her face.

In-ho grunted, his pace quickening as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. "That's it, baby," he growled, slamming into You with renewed vigor. "Take my cock like the slutty little whore you are."

You cried out in pleasure, your nails digging into in-ho’s back as he ravaged you. You knew it was wrong, but it felt so damn good to be wanted, to be desired like this. You looked over at Ji-eun, who was long gone

she turned on her heel and fled the room, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't bear to watch the sight of her husband finding pleasure with another woman, especially her rival

As she runs down the hallways as she hears your high-pitched cries of pleasure, followed by In-ho low groans of satisfaction. The sounds echoed in her ears, a cruel reminder of the betrayal she had just witnessed.

In-ho let out a guttural moan as he reached his peak, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his hot seed. He didn't even bother to pull out afterwards, just kept thrusting lazily as your pussy milked every last drop from him.

Finally, he rolled off of you with a satisfied sigh. "Thanks for the fuck, Y/n. I needed that."

“I can’t believe you would do this to me,” she whispered, her voice shaking not with weakness, but with rage boiling just beneath the surface.

In-ho didn’t move. He didn’t rush to cover himself, didn’t look ashamed. He simply raised an eyebrow and turned toward her with a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. Calm. Casual. Cruel.

“Come on, Ji-eun,” he said dryly. “You know I’ve been doing this with her. Multiple times. All over this place. I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised now.”

Ji-eun shook her head in disbelief, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "But...but why? Why would you bring her into our home? Into our bed?"

He scoffed, walking to the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair like she was nothing more than an annoying interruption. “What bed?” he shot back. “You seem to forget we haven’t shared a bed in what, over a year?”

“You still live here,” she snapped. “You're still married to me.”

He chuckled bitterly. “Yeah. And every night I chose the guest room over you. And every night I thought about how much better it would be to have her here instead.”

Ji-eun’s voice cracked as she pushed further, desperate for something, anything to hold onto. “You didn’t even use protection,” she said, her voice a mix of shock and disgust. “You just—”

“Why should I?” he cut her off sharply, stepping closer, his tone shifting from mocking to dangerously cold. “I’d rather build a future with someone like her than ever touch you again.”

The words hit her like a slap. She stumbled back a step, breath catching in her throat, and he didn’t stop. Didn’t offer a second of pity.

“You keep acting like I owe you something just because you wear a ring. But that ring doesn’t mean loyalty. Not anymore. You stopped being my partner the moment you stopped being anything but convenient.”

Behind him, you shifted in the bed, watching with cool detachment. You weren’t the type to gloat, there was no need. Everything Ji-eun feared was already playing out in real time.

In-ho turned his back on his wife, walking toward the balcony as if he’d already forgotten she was standing there.

Ji-eun was left frozen in the doorway, staring at the bed she thought still belonged to her life, to her marriage. But the truth was undeniable now:

The tension in the room crackled like electricity. Ji-eun was still standing there, rooted to the spot, her hands clenched into trembling fists by her sides, but you hardly looked at her anymore. The shock in her face was already fading into something more hollow, more defeated.

You sat up, pulling the sheets around you with a shaky hand, feeling the weight of the chaos you had just set off. You slid one leg over the side of the bed, reaching for your dress thrown carelessly over the nearby armchair, trying to gather yourself, trying to be respectful enough to at least get dressed.

But before you could stand, you felt his hand wrapping firmly around your wrist, stopping you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” in-ho voice was low, dangerous, almost playful, the hint of a smirk curling his mouth. He was still shirtless, still wild from everything you had just done and completely, absolutely unbothered by the woman watching from the doorway.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, whispering under your breath, “But… she’s here.” Your heart pounded in your chest, not out of guilt, but from the thrill the recklessness of it all.

He followed your gaze lazily, glancing at Ji-eun as if she were no more than an unwanted painting hanging on the wall. His eyes came back to you, dark and gleaming. “And?” he said coolly, tightening his grip just enough that you couldn’t pull away. “I don’t care.”

You swallowed, feeling the way his presence devoured everything else, how even your shame melted away in front of his raw, burning want.

A slow, wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in, so close his breath was hot against your skin. “Wanna go for a second round?” he whispered, like a secret meant just for you even though it wasn’t secret at all.

You stared at him for a heartbeat then matched his smirk with one of your own.

Without hesitation, you tilted your head and kissed him, hard.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was wild, messy, and demanding.

You felt him groan into your mouth, his hand moving to the small of your back, dragging you closer. In one swift movement, he grabbed your hips and lifted you slightly, making you gasp into his mouth. You barely had time to react before he pushed you backward away from the bed pressing you against the wall near the door.

The impact wasn’t rough enough to hurt, but it made you shiver under his touch. His body pinned you there, powerful and commanding, and he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if he wanted to erase any thought of you walking away.

The heavy air in the room thickened until it felt suffocating. The wet sounds of your kisses, the low growls from him, and your soft whimpers filled the space, drowning out everything else. It was brutal. It was deliberate. It was a spectacle.

And Ji-eun couldn’t take it anymore.

Her hands, trembling from rage and humiliation, clenched into fists so tight her knuckles turned white. She stared at the two of you, her husband and the woman he had replaced her with pressed against the wall like she didn’t even exist.

Her voice broke the moment. Cracked and raw, filled with bitter disbelief.“You’re disgusting,” she spat, her voice shaking so violently she could barely get the words out. “Both of you.”

He didn’t even bother turning around. His lips barely left yours when he answered, his voice casual, mocking. “Then leave.”

Ji-eun’s chest heaved with pure rage, her nails digging into her palms. For a second, it looked like she might charge at you, might slap you or scream or do something desperate but she didn’t. Because deep down, she knew it would only make her look even more pathetic.

She straightened her spine, even as her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, and forced herself to speak with some shred of dignity she still had left.“I hope she ruins you,” she hissed, venom dripping from every word. “I hope she drags you down into hell with her.”

In-ho only laughed under his breath, finally pulling his mouth away from yours long enough to glance back at Ji-eun with cold, dead amusement. “Honey, you’ve been trying to ruin me for years. She’s the only thing keeping me alive.”

Ji-eun let out a broken, wounded sound half fury, half heartbreak and spun on her heel. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she stormed out of the bedroom, then down the hall. The sound of a drawer being yanked open, the shuffle of her snatching up her things, her choked breaths all echoed in the penthouse, loud and frantic.

You heard the front door slam so violently that one of the crystal vases near the entrance rattled on its pedestal.

Silence fell.

in-ho didn’t move from where he had you trapped against the wall. He just looked at you, wild and victorious, a dark fire burning in his eyes. He was breathing heavily, his hands still firm on your hips, claiming you like territory newly conquered.

“She’s gone,” he murmured, almost to himself. His thumb brushed your lower lip, still swollen from his kisses.

It had been a few weeks since that night since Ji-eun had stormed out of the penthouse and out of In-ho life like a bitter gust of wind slamming a door shut. She hadn’t come back. Not once. No texts, no calls. Just silence. It was like she had vanished, leaving nothing behind but her bitterness and a few forgotten designer shoes in the closet.

And in that silence, your life with In-ho only grew closer, more dangerous, more intoxicating.

You stood now in front of the full-length mirror of his penthouse bathroom, staring down at the small white stick in your hand. Two bright pink lines stared back at you.

Pregnant.

You felt the world tilt slightly under your feet, your heart hammering so loud it almost drowned out your thoughts. You were carrying his child. The man who had once been someone else’s husband… was about to be your baby’s father.

Part of you was terrified but a bigger part, the darker part, loved it.

Without thinking, you grabbed the test and walked out into the penthouse. In-ho was sitting on the couch, tie loosened, a glass of whiskey resting lazily in his hand as he scrolled through emails on his phone. He looked up the second he saw you, and something in his face changed when he saw the look in your eyes something wide-eyed, breathless, electric.

You hesitated for a second, then crossed the room and held out the test in your trembling hand.

For a moment, he said nothing. Just stared. His gaze dropped to the test, reading the silent message written in those two pink lines.

The glass of whiskey slid from his fingers and landed on the carpet without even a thought.

He stood up slowly, towering over you, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing your skin so carefully it was almost reverent.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice rough, deeper than usual.

You nodded, tears suddenly burning the back of your eyes, the moment heavier than you could have imagined.

His face broke into a slow, wicked grin, a real one, not the usual smirk he wore when he was playing games or mocking the players . This was something raw. Real. Almost boyish.

“I’m going to be a father,” he whispered, like he was tasting the words. His hands dropped to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “We’re going to have a family.”

You laughed breathlessly, half in disbelief, half in relief, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He kissed you hard, almost crushing and when he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re moving in with me. Tonight. No arguments,” he said, his voice rough with command. “I want you here. Safe. Close. I want you to wake up in my bed every damn day.”

You blinked up at him, still catching your breath. “What about your wife?” you asked carefully, the old anxiety creeping up despite everything.

He chuckled darkly, a sound filled with pure confidence. He stroked your hair, tucking a piece behind your ear with a tenderness that made your heart ache.“Don’t worry about her,” he said easily, his voice dropping lower. “She’s nothing now. I’ll divorce her. Fast. Quiet. She won’t get a penny more than I want her to.”

He leaned down, kissing your collarbone, his hands roaming possessively over your body like he was already staking a claim no one could challenge.“I’ll marry you instead,” he murmured against your skin. “You’ll be mine officially. My wife. The mother of my child. Everything Ji-eun could never be.”

You felt his promise sink into your bones heavy, final, and inescapable.

The penthouse buzzed with unusual activity. Movers and staff bustled through the marble halls, carrying your clothes, your jewelry boxes, your shoes, everything you owned carefully packed and labeled. Some of the staff looked nervous, others excited, whispering behind gloved hands as they made their way to the private wing of the residence in-ho domain, the part of the penthouse even Ji-eun had never fully claimed.

You stood just outside the master bedroom, watching them work, arms crossed, feeling a strange mixture of power and disbelief as your life was physically being merged into his.

That’s when you heard the sharp, angry click of heels on marble.

Ji-eun.

She came around the corner fast, her hair a little messier than usual, her face twisted into something ugly and desperate the second she saw you.

She stopped dead when she spotted the line of staff carrying your things, your suitcases, your dresses on silk hangers, even a small cradle still wrapped in bubble wrap, clearly meant for a baby.

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she stalked up to you, practically spitting her words.“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed, her voice low and vicious.

Before you could even open your mouth, one of the senior staff, a tall, stone-faced man wearing a sleek black suit stepped smoothly between you and her, his stance firm, respectful but unmoving.

“Orders from the Frontman,” he said coldly, referring to Hwang In-ho in the way all the employees were instructed to. “We were commanded to bring Miss Y/N’s belongings here immediately.”

Ji-eun blinked, momentarily stunned. “What?” she barked. “No, absolutely not! This is my home! She has no right to—”

The staff member didn’t flinch. He simply stepped aside to allow two more workers to carry your things into the master bedroom, not even looking at Ji-eun as he spoke again, voice calm and robotic.

“She is carrying the heir,” he said simply, as if stating the weather. “The Frontman has ordered that all her possessions be moved into his private chambers immediately. She is to be installed here permanently.”

Your heart pounded at the words, but you kept your face perfectly still, watching the chaos unfold with cool detachment.

Ji-eun turned on the staff now, her rage growing wild, her pride in tatters.“Kick her out! Right now! I’m still his wife! She doesn’t belong here!” she screamed.

There was a long, painful beat of silence.

The staff merely stood there, still and obedient not to her.

To him.

“The Frontman’s orders,” the lead staffer repeated, his voice so final it cut through the air like a blade.“We obey only him.”

Ji-eun looked around wildly, as if anyone would stand up for her, take her side.

But no one moved.

The workers continued moving your things past her like she was a ghost.

Ignored. Dismissed. Irrelevant.

You stepped forward slightly, enough that your shoulder brushed hers in the narrow hallway. You didn’t even need to say anything. The sight of you, calm, confident, unbothered while she stood there empty-handed, was humiliating enough.

Ji-eun’s face crumpled, her lips trembling with rage she couldn’t unleash. She opened her mouth as if to say something like a curse or a threat but no words came. Only silence. Only the realization that she had lost completely.

You heard her breath hitch, sharp and broken, before she turned on her heel and stormed away, her heels clacking like gunshots against the marble, her pride left in pieces behind her.

The staff gave you polite nods as they finished moving the last of your things into In-ho master suite.

One of them even bowed slightly, saying under his breath,

“Congratulations, Miss Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but smile, dangerous, victorious as you crossed the threshold into the space that was now unmistakably yours.

You sat at the edge of his massive bed, your bed now wrapped in a delicate silk robe he had gifted you the week before, your bare legs tucked under you, hair messy in a way that looked both innocent and devastating.

The staff had finished moving your things hours ago, and the master suite had transformed into something new. Luxurious. Soft. Yours. A subtle feminine touch brushed over everything now, your scent lingering in the air, your framed photos on the side tables, your delicate clothes in the walk-in closet that had once belonged to Ji-eun.

But you had one more move to play.

Something deeper.

Something that would sink the final nail into Ji-eun’s coffin and tie In-ho even tighter to you.

You had been waiting for him to come home, practicing the scene over and over in your mind. And now, hearing the soft click of the elevator door and the low murmur of male voices as In-ho and a few of his security team returned, your heart raced in excitement.

Quickly, you rubbed your eyes to make them look slightly puffy, pulled your silk robe a little looser to expose your collarbone and part of your thigh, making yourself look vulnerable, fragile, in need.

The door opened.

He entered tall,wearing his black suit slightly rumpled from the day, his eyes immediately locking onto you sitting there on the bed like something out of a twisted dream.

His whole body tensed the moment he saw the glisten of tears on your lashes.

In an instant, he crossed the room, dropping his briefcase with a dull thud. He knelt in front of you, hands framing your face, tilting your head up to him.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, his voice low and fierce, already scanning your body for signs of harm.

You gave a tiny, pitiful sniff, blinking up at him. “It’s Ji-eun,” you whispered, letting your voice tremble beautifully, perfectly. “She— she grabbed me when the staff were bringing my things. She said horrible things to me. She— she shoved me into the wall. I— I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to cause problems—”Your words broke into soft, hiccuping sobs, ones you had perfected in the mirror earlier.

And right on cue, your secret weapon entered: a young staff member, Minseo, one of the newer recruits, sweet, loyal, and already fiercely protective of you.

Minseo stepped into the doorway, bowing deeply. “It’s true, Frontman. I saw it happen.” She looked genuinely distressed, her big eyes round and earnest. “Ji-eun was…violent. Toward Miss Y/N. We didn’t know what to do… we didn’t want to escalate it, but…”She trailed off, glancing at you with concern.

In-ho jaw clenched so hard you thought he might crack a tooth.“She put her hands on you?” he growled, the words slow and deadly, each one laced with murderous intent. His hands dropped from your cheeks to your thighs, squeezing them like he needed to feel you were still real, still safe.

You nodded, tears slipping prettily down your face.

In a flash, he stood, turning toward Minseo. “Where is she now?”

Minseo bowed again. “She left. I believe she went back to the secondary villa. She looked…unhinged, sir.”

In-ho’s eyes darkened, the fury burning there hotter than anything you had ever seen. For a terrifying moment, you thought he might actually leave to hunt Ji-eun down himself.

But then he looked back at you small, fragile, his future and something in him shifted.

He came back to the bed, sitting beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him, shielding you from the world.“She’ll never touch you again,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “I’ll bury her if she even looks at you the wrong way.” You pressed your face into his chest, hiding the triumphant little smile that curled on your lips.

Minseo bowed again and slipped out quietly, leaving you alone with him.

Later that night, after you had fallen asleep wrapped safely in his arms, in-ho slipped out of bed. Silent. Cold.

His rage hadn’t lessened; if anything, it had grown sharper. The image of his delicate, beautiful Y/N crying and trembling because of Ji-eun’s hands was burned into his mind.

He wasn’t a man who forgave.

And he sure as hell wasn’t a man who let threats go unanswered.

He made a single call to his security team. Quiet, precise orders. Within an hour, Ji-eun was standing in the underground garage of the penthouse, summoned like a criminal about to receive her sentencing.

She stood there, arms crossed tightly over her chest, chin lifted stubbornly but the flicker of fear in her eyes gave her away. She knew this wasn’t going to end well.

In-ho approached her slowly, his tailored suit cutting a razor-sharp figure against the sleek black cars and cold concrete.

He didn’t rush. Predators never did.

His steps were calm, deliberate.

He stopped a few feet in front of her, hands shoved casually in his pockets, head tilting slightly as he looked her up and down like she was something rotten he didn’t want to touch.

“You really disappointed me tonight, Ji-eun,” he said softly, almost mockingly.

She opened her mouth, probably to spit some pathetic defense, but he cut her off with a single, sharp look that snapped her jaw shut.

“I warned you before,” he continued, his voice dark and smooth like poison. “I told you to stay out of my way. To leave her alone.”

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, dangerous.

She shrank back instinctively.

“If you ever touch her again,” he said, voice dropping into something so cold it didn’t even sound human, “if you even breathe wrong in her direction, I swear on everything I own.” he leaned down, his face inches from hers, his breath hot against her skin. “I’ll throw you onto that island like trash.”

Ji-eun’s eyes widened in horror.

“You’ll be one of the players,” he whispered, the cruelty in his words slicing like a knife. “No special treatment. No mercy. You’ll fight for your life just like the rest of them. And before I send you in, I’ll make sure you know exactly what it feels like to be powerless.”

Her lower lip trembled now. Fear finally broke through her anger.“But— but you can’t—”

He smiled then, a slow, savage smile that made her knees wobble.“Who’s going to stop me, Ji-eun?” he asked softly. “You? You can’t even keep your place in my home. You think any judge, any lawyer, any pathetic little ‘connection’ you have will lift a finger to save you?”

He laughed low under his breath.“You’re nothing without my name attached to yours. Nothing but a sad, aging has-been who gambled everything and lost.”

Ji-eun’s face crumpled, the reality slamming into her all at once.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he said, standing tall again, straightening his cuffs like he was brushing her existence off his skin. “Stay out of my sight. Stay out of her sight.”

He turned to walk away, pausing only once to throw the final dagger over his shoulder.“And if I hear you even whisper her name again… you’ll be wishing for death before the first game even starts.”

Then he left her there, broken and shaking, in the cold belly of the penthouse, her fall from grace complete.

A few days later, the entire world around you seemed to shift.

In-ho wasted no time. The moment Ji-eun had been silenced and the last of her desperate threats crushed, he set his plan in motion.

A formal event not just any event, but the event.

Hosted under the glittering chandeliers of the private ballroom in one of the Frontman’s most luxurious properties.

Guests from the highest tiers of society were invited: businessmen, politicians, foreign investors, underground kings and queens who owed their fortunes to the games.

The whispers had already started before the night even began.

“Why the sudden gala?”

“Is he announcing a new project?”

“Or… something more personal?”

The air buzzed with curiosity and envy.

You stood before a mirror in the private dressing suite, Minseo helping you slip into your gown a custom-made, shimmering black silk dress that clung to your body like a second skin, with delicate diamonds stitched along the plunging neckline and high slit. Your belly was still small, barely a curve, but if someone looked close enough, they might guess.

Minseo beamed at you, smoothing your hair back with gentle fingers.

“You look like a queen,” she whispered.

You smiled softly, nerves and excitement dancing inside your chest.

When in-ho appeared at the doorway, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his eyes devoured you instantly.

He crossed the room in three strides, pulling you into a possessive, lingering kiss that made Minseo giggle and quickly excuse herself.

“You’re stunning,” he murmured against your lips. “Tonight, they’ll all know who you belong to.”

The ballroom was a sea of power and wealth: the sound of expensive champagne glasses clinking, the muted hum of conversations, the flash of diamonds under the crystal lights.

And when you entered in In-ho's arm, every head turned.

The murmurs started instantly, spreading like wildfire:

“Who is she?”

“Is that…?”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s so young. So beautiful.”

You felt the weight of their stares admiration from the men, envy and sharp-edged jealousy from the women.

Ji-eun was there too.

Of course, she was.

Standing at the far end of the room, dressed in a gown that paled in comparison to yours, her face tight and brittle, trying to pretend she still mattered.

But the way everyone ignored her told the truth: she was invisible now.

You were the future.

In-ho you close, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back.

And then, after an hour of soft conversations and veiled stares, he stepped up to the grand dais at the head of the room.

The room quieted instantly.

He didn’t waste time.

Didn’t build it up with pomp and ceremony.

He simply raised a glass of dark wine and said, voice smooth and commanding:

“I want to thank you all for coming tonight. As you know, I don’t host gatherings like this lightly. Tonight is a celebration… of my future.”

He turned slightly, his free hand reaching for you.

You stepped forward, your hand slipping into his without hesitation.

The gasp that ran through the crowd was almost satisfying.

“I’d like to introduce the woman who holds my heart, my loyalty, and soon, my heir,” he said, his voice a blade and a crown all at once.

A soft hand gesture and one of the staff rolled out a small glass pedestal draped in black velvet.

With a smooth flick, in-ho pulled the cloth away, revealing a breathtaking diamond ring.

Not just any diamond a centerpiece stone the size of a large marble, surrounded by a halo of blood-red rubies.

A symbol.

His love, and his ruthlessness.

The murmurs grew louder: "heir”— ”pregnant” — “marriage” — the words weaving through the room like wildfire.

You caught Ji-eun’s face across the room.

It was a masterpiece of rage, humiliation, despair.

Good.

He turned to you, taking your hand once again.

He slipped the ring onto your finger, his thumb caressing the new jewelry in a gesture that was both intimate and possessive.“This is only the beginning,” he said, his voice for you alone now. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine, my queen, my family, my future.”

He kissed your knuckles in front of everyone, the gesture so slow and deliberate it made more than a few women in the room gasp softly, wishing they were you.

The crowd erupted into applause, some hesitant, some eager but none dared question the Frontman’s declaration.

Ji-eun stood frozen, small and pitiful among the sea of glittering gowns and tailored suits, forgotten like an old shadow.

As the music started again and He led you into a slow, private dance on the marble floor, he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear.

“She’ll be gone soon,” he promised darkly. “And you, my beautiful Y/N, will have everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

And as you danced, the ring heavy and sparkling on your finger, you knew:

The kingdom was yours now.

And there was no one left to stand in your way.

The next few weeks moved faster than even Ji-eun could have anticipated.

And every step was deliberate, calculated, and cruel.

In-ho filed for divorce with a team of the most ruthless lawyers money could buy men and women who could twist any truth, crush any defense, and destroy reputations without blinking an eye.

The case was almost laughable from the start.

Ji-eun tried, at first, to fight.

She stormed into court wearing expensive clothes she could no longer afford, clutching documents and fabricated stories.

She wept on the stand, tried to paint herself as the poor, abandoned wife.

Tried to make herself look like the victim.

But it was all for nothing.

In-ho legal team tore her apart like wolves feasting on a carcass.

Every secret, every misstep she had made during their marriage was dragged out and exposed her reckless spending, her affairs, her cruelty toward staff, her jealousy.

And of course, the final nail in her coffin: the incident where she had laid hands on you.

Photos. Witnesses. Testimonies.

Minseo even testified her voice clear and unwavering as she described Ji-eun shoving you, screaming vile words, acting unhinged.

By the second week, the court wasn’t asking if In-ho was at fault.

They were quietly wondering why he hadn’t divorced her sooner.

The judge’s final ruling came swift and merciless.

Ji-eun would receive nothing.

No alimony.

No property.

No share in In-ho empire.

She was stripped clean a bird plucked of every feather.

The only thing she left the courtroom with was a small leather handbag and the heavy, unbearable weight of humiliation.

Not a penny more.

Outside the courthouse, reporters swarmed, their cameras flashing, but no one wanted her comment.

They wanted yours.

They wanted photos of you, the beautiful, young woman now wearing the Frontman’s ring and carrying his child.

Ji-eun stumbled away from the courthouse steps, clutching her bag like a lifeline, her once perfect hair messy, her heels cracking against the pavement.

No limo came for her.

No driver.

No security detail.

No one even looked at her twice as she disappeared into the crowd like any other forgotten woman.

Meanwhile, you waited back at the penthouse, lounging in the master suite, the massive diamond on your finger catching the light.

Minseo brought you a tray of fresh fruit and sparkling water, bowing respectfully before leaving you to rest.

When the doors opened later that afternoon, you didn’t even have to ask.

The way In-ho walked in tall, commanding, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his mouth told you everything you needed to know.

“It’s done,” he said simply, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the velvet armchair.

“She’s nothing now. Less than nothing.”

You smiled sweetly, setting your glass down and rising from the couch to meet him.

“She got what she deserved,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He kissed you deep and slow, savoring the taste of victory.

When he pulled back, his dark eyes glittered with something dangerous, possessive.

“And you,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles down your jaw, “you’re everything now. My future. My family.”

He placed a warm hand over the small curve of your stomach, his thumb moving in slow circles. “And soon,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion and hunger, “everyone will know that you and our child are all that matters to me.”

You leaned into him, feeling the power, the certainty, the endless, terrifying devotion that would destroy anyone who dared threaten what you now shared.

Ji-eun was nothing but a ghost now.

A cautionary tale whispered in the corners of halls she would never walk again.

And you?

You were the queen who had conquered the king and built an empire on the ruins of another woman’s shattered dreams.

The wedding was only the beginning.

Within hours of the final dance, after the last guest was ushered out of the estate, In-ho had plans already in motion.

He wasn’t like ordinary men, no tropical beaches or five-star resorts for him.

He wanted you somewhere no one could touch you.

Somewhere only he ruled.

That night, you were whisked away in a private helicopter, the city disappearing beneath you like a memory.

You sat curled against In-ho side, his hand never leaving your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy, possessive circles on your skin.

He didn’t tell you where you were going.

He only smirked when you asked, his voice low and dark:

“You’ll see, princess. Somewhere only meant for us.”

By sunrise, you understood.

The helicopter descended onto a hidden island not marked on any map, not owned by any country, an island purchased quietly years ago through offshore accounts and secret brokers.

It was paradise but a dangerous, feral kind.

Dense jungles bordered black rock cliffs. The sea raged against the shores in angry, endless waves.

And in the center of the island, carved into the cliffs themselves, stood a mansion built like a fortress: sleek, modern, and savage in its beauty.

No neighbors.

No paparazzi.

No one to hear your screams or moans.

Only In-ho and you.

The staff handpicked, loyal only to him, greeted you silently, bowing their heads in respect.

Minseo was there too, smiling warmly, having arranged everything to perfection.

But after settling you in, they all disappeared, leaving you utterly, completely alone with him.

You explored the mansion hand-in-hand:

Marble floors cool under bare feet.

Walls of glass that opened to the furious ocean.

An infinity pool that seemed to spill straight into the sky.

And your private quarters…

Oh, the bedroom was designed for sin.

A massive bed with blood-red sheets.

Heavy iron rings bolted into the walls and headboard.

Velvet ropes.

Chains.

Silk blindfolds.

You turned, breathless, heart pounding, as you felt him step up behind you.

In-ho’s voice ghosted across your ear, rough and deep:

“I built this place for us.”

He kissed your neck slowly, deliberately.

“For nights like this. For when I want to ruin you. Worship you. Break you down and build you back up as mine.”

You shivered not from fear, but from anticipation.

Before you could respond, he spun you in his arms and kissed you hard claiming, tasting, devouring.

His hands moved down, bunching the silk of your gown, yanking it over your head without ceremony.

“You won’t wear anything else tonight,” he ordered, his gaze dark with hunger. “Only my marks.”

He lifted you easily, tossing you onto the enormous bed.

You laughed breathlessly, but it turned into a gasp when he was on you in an instant, pinning your wrists above your head, teeth scraping against your throat.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget this night,” he growled. “Every time you walk, breathe, touch your belly you’ll remember who you belong to.”

And he did.

All night.

Over and over again.

The storm outside matched the storm inside the furious crash of waves against the cliffs, the relentless claiming of your body under his.

You lost count of how many times he made you scream his name, your voice echoing against stone and silk.

He worshiped every inch of you, your lips, your throat, your hips, the small swell of your growing belly.

Sometimes he was rough, almost savage.

Other times, he slowed down, whispering dirty promises against your skin, his hands gentle where they roamed.

By the time dawn bled into the black sea, you were wrapped in his arms, your body wrecked and trembling, your throat raw from crying out.

In-ho pressed his mouth to your temple, his hand resting protectively over your stomach.

“My wife,” he whispered hoarsely. “My queen. The mother of my blood.”

You drifted into sleep with his voice surrounding you, safe in the knowledge that here, in this hidden savage paradise, nothing could ever tear you away from him.

Months passed in a blur of whispered promises, velvet nights, and a growing love so fierce it eclipsed everything else.

The pregnancy wasn’t easy but In-ho made sure you never lifted a finger.

Doctors were flown in from the best hospitals.

Guards patrolled the estate twenty-four hours a day.

And Minseo's loyal, clever Minseo never left your side, attending to your every need with silent devotion.

In-ho grew even more protective with each passing day, refusing to let you out of his sight for long.

He would sit by your side for hours, his hand resting over your swollen belly, whispering to the little life growing inside you.

At night, he would pull you against his chest and murmur promises into your hair:

“Our son will have everything. Power. Safety. A legacy. And he will know who gave him everything, his queen. His mother.”

And finally, the day came.

The labor was long and brutal, but you were stronger than you had ever been.

In-ho never left your side, his hand gripping yours so tightly you thought your bones might break.

His eyes, usually so cold and sharp were wild with emotion, his voice thick and broken as he whispered encouragements against your ear.

When the cries of a newborn filled the air, the entire mansion seemed to still as if the island itself was holding its breath.

A son.

A healthy, strong boy with dark hair and fierce, intelligent eyes.

In-ho cradled him with trembling hands, tears sliding silently down his face the first and only time you had ever seen him cry.

He kissed your forehead, then the tiny crown of your son’s head, swearing a blood oath in his heart to protect you both until his last breath.

“Our heir,” he murmured in awe, voice barely above a whisper.

“Our future.”

In the days that followed, the estate transformed again.

The staff moved with even greater respect, bowing lower, speaking softer.

You were no longer just the Frontman’s queen, you were the Mother of the Heir.

A living legend among them.

One afternoon, as you sat by the grand window with your newborn sleeping in your arms, you called Minseo to you.

She knelt immediately, her head bowed low, but you smiled warmly and motioned her to rise.

“You’ve been more than a servant, Minseo,” you said, your voice clear, regal. “You were my protector. My confidante. My friend.”

Tears glistened in her eyes, but she didn’t dare speak yet.

You pressed a small velvet box into her hands inside, a glittering diamond pendant, the crest of Young-il’s hidden empire carved delicately into its center.

It wasn’t just jewelry.

It was a symbol of power, a mark that no one on the island or beyond would dare challenge.

“You are no longer just a handmaid,” you said. “You are my right hand. My shield. My trusted voice when I cannot speak.”

Minseo’s hands trembled as she clasped the pendant around her neck, her head bowing even lower, this time in true loyalty the kind of loyalty no money or threats could ever buy.

“I will serve you, my Queen,” she whispered fiercely.“with my life, if necessary.”

You smiled softly, rocking your son gently, feeling the enormity of your future settle into place like a crown upon your head.

In-ho entered a moment later, stepping into the sunlit room, and when he saw you sitting there radiant, powerful, eternal with his son and your loyal handmaid at your side, his heart clenched with something dangerous and infinite.

He crossed the room in three strides, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“My queen,” he murmured. “My empire.”

And in that moment, you knew:

The world outside might roar and rage, but within these walls, you ruled loved, protected, and untouchable.

The island was quieter now, but its pulse had not changed.

It still throbbed with the same dark power only now, that power had a future.

Every day, as you and In-ho watched your newborn son sleep, a different look settled in his sharp eyes colder, sharper, deeper than love.

It was legacy.

He was already planning the future, a future built not just for himself, but for the tiny life you had created together.

The empire he ruled in the shadows would not die with him.

It would grow, expand, and it would belong to your son.

One evening, as you stood with In-ho on the balcony of the cliffside mansion, the ocean raging far below, he spoke of it aloud for the first time.

He held your son carefully against his chest. The boy swaddled in the finest silk, a tiny crown of dark hair just peeking out.

You watched the two of them, feeling a fierce pride swell in your heart.

“He will inherit all of it,” In-ho said, his voice low and certain.

“The island. The games. The network. The blood empire I built with my own hands.”

He turned to you then, eyes gleaming in the dying sun’s crimson light.

“He’ll be trained for it from the moment he can walk. Taught to be strong. Merciless. Untouchable. Just like his mother…”

His gaze raked over you, reverent and hungry.”…and his father.”

You stepped closer, resting your hand gently on his arm.“Will it be safe for him?” you asked softly, already feeling the instincts of a lioness awakening inside you.

You would tear apart the world before letting anything happen to your child.

In-ho smiled — not a soft smile, but a dangerous, predatory curve of his mouth. “He’ll be the most protected boy in the world,” he promised. “And when he’s ready, he will not just survive he will rule.”

That night, in the privacy of the grand study, In-ho began putting plans into motion.

He summoned his most trusted advisors, the ones who had been with him from the beginning, men who owed him everything.

Maps were unfurled across the long blackwood table.

Documents were signed, sealed, hidden in vaults no government could ever touch.

New laws were written secret laws, binding contracts that ensured the boy’s inheritance would be unshakable.

They even crafted a title for him:

The Prince of the Island.

In-ho made it clear to all

No matter what happened in the future, no matter how bloody or chaotic the world became, the empire would not fall into the hands of strangers.

It would belong to your blood.

Even the games, the brutal, bloody tournaments that kept the network fed and entertained would eventually be reshaped.

In-ho spoke of building a future where his son wouldn’t just oversee them he would master them.

He would be the god they all bowed to, even more feared than his father.

Minseo worked quietly in the background, compiling records, organizing codes and assets, ensuring everything would be ready when the time came.

The boy was still tiny, still fragile but already the island whispered his name, already the walls carried the echo of his future throne.

And every night, as you cradled your son to sleep, In-ho would stand beside you, one hand resting protectively over you both, his voice a dark vow: “Everything I have, everything I am… will be his.

No one will ever touch him.

No one will ever threaten him.

Not while I draw breath.

And even after I am gone… the world will remember who he is.”

You believed him with your whole heart.

Because you weren’t just raising a son.

You were raising a king and you would make sure he rose to his destiny, no matter the cost.

Together, the three of you would rule unstoppable, unbreakable and eternal.

[magnagaruzenmon]

Writer’s Block

A little gift for Dinozen.

Garuzen and her writing partner Dinozen sat across from each other, their brows furrowed in concentration over a game of Magic: The Gathering, specifically duel commander. The tension in the room was palpable as if the very air thickened with every card drawn. Their decks, their strategies, and their personalities clashed like rival elements.

Garuzen’s Bant control deck struggled to keep pace, its delicate balance of counters and defenses cracking under the relentless pressure of Dinozen’s Sultai tempo. Each turn, Dinozen’s deck churned out incremental advantages, a symphony of value that was impossible to stop. Garuzen slumped in her chair, her frustration bubbling to the surface as she scooped up her cards.

“Gah! How do you manage it all?” she lamented, shaking her head after racking up another loss.

Dinozen, halfway through shuffling his deck for the next match, glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked slowly, his voice as steady and unassuming as ever.

Garuzen rolled her eyes dramatically. “You know what I mean—writing, hobbies, work, volunteering! How do you keep all those balls in the air without dropping them? It’s all so much!”

For a moment, Dinozen hesitated, the rhythmic shuffling of his cards pausing ever so slightly. Then, in his usual measured tone, he replied, “By taking things one day at a time.” He resumed shuffling, his hands moving with precision as he set up for their third game.

“Really? That’s it?” Garuzen leaned forward, her disbelief painted across her face. “I thought you’d have some secret sauce or something. I mean, come on, you’re the titan who managed to crank out three stories a week for six months straight! People called you unstoppable! Then one of your heavy hitters pops off, and poof—you disappear without a trace. Why, Dino? Why vanish after building all that momentum?”

Dinozen twitched at her words, his shoulders tightening before he forced himself to relax. Garuzen didn’t notice—or perhaps she didn’t care. She pressed on, her curiosity morphing into a challenge.

“Did I strike a nerve, Dino? Did I make you angry?” She smirked, her tone edging toward playful provocation.

Dinozen shot her a sharp look, one that practically begged her to drop the subject. But Garuzen was undeterred. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “What is it with you, huh? Why do you work so hard all the time? Is it just to make the rest of us look bad?”

And that was it. The mask cracked. Dinozen broke.

“Because I’m fucking furious!” he exploded, his voice ringing out like a thunderclap. “Furious and disgusted at everything and everyone!”

Garuzen froze, her jaw slack as Dinozen’s words came tumbling out like a flood bursting through a dam.

“I am surrounded by people who don’t believe in anything! People who refuse to act on their convictions are content to be trampled by those who do. And then there’s me—trying to do the right thing, trying to do right by people—and what do I get? Looked down on. Written off. Meanwhile, people close to me are profiting profoundly off of my ideas, and they act like I’m the joke. I’m the diplomat, the bigger person, while assholes like Thunder Cunt run wild because what? They’ve been dumb and ignorant from the start?!”

He slammed his hands on the table, his voice trembling now, teetering on the edge of rage and despair. “Every day, I feel like I’m shedding my humanity—like it’s crawling off me, piece by piece. And why? Because of the slime, we let exist. Because of the rot we let propagate. So if you want to know what drives me to work so hard, it’s not because I want to make you or anyone else look bad. It’s because I hate it all. I hate it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Garuzen sat frozen, the terror in her eyes growing as she looked at her friend—not the cheerful, easygoing Dinozen she knew, but someone raw and cracked open, someone teetering on the brink of something dark. The sorrow in his voice, his pain, was more frightening than his anger.

Without a word, Garuzen pulled out her phone. Her hands trembled as she dialed. Dinozen’s breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, but he noticed her movements.

“Who are you calling?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Garuzen looked up, meeting his furious gaze with a faint, knowing smile. “Someone who misses you.”

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Dinozen stormed to the door, still fuming, his jaw tight and his muscles coiled like a spring. He yanked it open—and froze.

Standing on the other side was Chaehyun. She was fidgeting, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. But when their eyes met, she smiled, soft and warm, like the first light of dawn breaking through a storm.

“Hey, Dino,” she said, her voice gentle. “I missed you.”

“Marshmallow?” Dinozen’s voice cracked, the exhaustion and shock in his tone cutting through the remnants of his anger.

Chaehyun pouted but nodded. “Yeah, it’s me.”

For a moment, Dinozen tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. “I… I… I…”

Chaehyun stepped closer, taking his hand in hers. “Come on,” she said softly, tugging him away from the door. “Let’s talk.”

Chaehyun led Dinozen into his bedroom, the tension radiating from him like a tangible force. She kept her steps deliberate, her hand clasped gently around his. Garuzen lingered in the hallway, peeking in just long enough to see the two disappear behind the door. As it clicked shut, she exhaled a shaky breath, hoping Chaehyun could do what she could not: reach him.

Inside the room, Chaehyun guided Dinozen to the edge of the bed. They sat down together, the mattress creaking under their weight. She kept her hand on his, grounding him with her touch as her gaze swept over his exhausted face.

“What’s going on, big guy?” she asked softly, her voice laced with concern.

Dinozen didn’t answer. His shoulders were still stiff, his jaw tight. Chaehyun turned to face him fully, her fingers brushing against his cheek as she cupped his face and gently turned it toward her. He flinched at the contact, his eyes darting away, but she didn’t pull back. Instead, she stroked her thumb lightly across his cheekbone, her touch a quiet reassurance.

“When was the last time you got a hug?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I mean a real one—not the kind someone gives just because they have to.”

Dinozen’s silence was answer enough. She sighed, her heart aching as she pulled him into her arms, wrapping herself around him tightly. He resisted for a moment, his body tense and unyielding, but she didn’t let go. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her warmth radiating through him like a balm for his frayed nerves.

Slowly, she felt him begin to relax. The rigidity in his back softened; the sharp edges of his breathing smoothed out. His arms, which had hung awkwardly at his sides, finally came up to return the embrace, his grip tentative at first before growing firmer, as though he were clinging to her for stability.

“There we go,” Chaehyun murmured against him. “Just let it out.”

For a moment, Dinozen simply held her, the storm inside him quieting as he melted into her touch. When she felt his breathing even out, she pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his shoulders. She looked up at him with those wide, expressive eyes of hers and tilted her head. “Now, tell me. What’s going on?”

Dinozen hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. As he spoke, his voice was low, nearly a mumble. “People… No, life has been stressing me out. It’s all too much, Marshmallow.”

Chaehyun’s lips twitched into a pout at the nickname—her least favorite, but one she tolerated from him because she knew it came from a place of affection. Instead of complaining, she shrugged off her jacket, tossed it onto the bed, and scooted closer to him, resting a hand on his knee.

“And you thought disappearing for a month or two was the answer?” she asked, her tone gentle but teasing. “You thought all the pain would just… poof, go away if you disconnected from everything?”

Dinozen nodded sheepishly, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. Chaehyun’s laugh broke through the air, light and full of warmth, and she reached up to ruffle his hair.

“I always forget you’re an introvert at heart,” she said, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “You thought hiding would fix it, huh?”

He chuckled softly, the sound surprising even him. “Maybe. I mean… it usually works.”

“Not this time.” Chaehyun shook her head, her hand dropping to his shoulder, her thumb brushing lightly over his collarbone. “You can’t run away from what’s in your head, Dino. You know that.”

His smile faltered, and she immediately noticed. Without a word, she slid closer, draping her arm around his shoulders and leaning her head against him. “But you don’t have to figure it all out alone,” she said quietly. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. You just have to let me in.”

Dinozen let out a shaky breath, his head lowering as her words sank in. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against the curve of her neck. Chaehyun said nothing more, letting the steady rhythm of her heartbeat fill the silence. She ran her fingers lightly through his hair, the repetitive motion calming him further.

As the minutes stretched on, Dinozen finally whispered, “I missed you, too.”

Chaehyun smiled, her arms tightening around him. “Good,” she said simply, her voice as soothing as the embrace itself. “Now stop running away, you big dummy.” Dinozen nodded before the couple began cuddling on his bed. As always Chaehyun was the little spoon being encompassed by the much bigger Dinozen. After a few minutes of this Chaehyun gets a little antsy before turning over to face her paramour. She scoots up to his face and plants a large kiss on his cheek, as she wraps him in another hug. Dinozen eased again into her arms as their kisses deepened in passion Chaehyun began to feel how hard Dinozen was for her.

“Hey big guy when was the last time you got laid?”Chaehyun asked. Dinozen stiffened hoping not to be forced to answer. Chaehyun scowled,”No wonder why you're so tense you're pent up,” she said as she took her shirt off leaving her only in her bra and jeans both of which she quickly divested from. She looked at Dinozen with a bright smile admiring the bulge in his pants.

Dino raced to match her state of undress. Chaehyun smiled before saying, “good,” she crawled onto the bed before caressing he face and diving in for a kiss. While she does she slowly impaled herself on Dino’s cock. Dino moans as her pussy welcomes him. Chaehyun looks at Dino with eyes full of love.

“Oh good. I forgot how well you fit inside,” Chaehyun coos. Dino eases as she wraps her arms around him. She starts riding him slowly at first before the pleasure gets to her. Dino grips into her plush thighs as she rides him. As she grinds along his shaft Dino watches as her big breasts bounce buoyant in his face. Dinozen leans in before taking an exploratory lick. Chaehyun moans as she buries Dino’s face in her tits. Her walls hold Dino with a gentle care that he hadn't felt in months.

Dinozen lost himself in the pleasure and came inside Chaehyun. She smiles as his seed floods her womb. She goes lightheaded as her arousal consumes her. The couple collapses on the bed.

Chaehyun bats her big eyes hoping to soften the anger that welled within Dino. Dino relaxed and kiss the rabbit tiger as she wrapped her legs around him another time

The room was quiet now, the storm inside Dinozen finally calmed by Chaehyun’s warmth. They stayed tangled together on the bed, his head resting against her shoulder while her fingers combed through his hair in slow, soothing strokes. The rhythm of their breathing began to synchronize, the weight of the moment dissipating into a peaceful stillness.

“You feel any better?” Chaehyun whispered, breaking the silence.

Dinozen nodded slightly, his voice a low murmur. “Yeah… You always do this to me, you know.”

“Do what?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him.

“Make me feel human again.” He gave a faint, tired smile, his eyes finally meeting hers. “Like I’m not completely broken.”

Chaehyun’s heart ached at his words, but she didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she pressed a soft kiss to his temple and rested her cheek against his hair. “That’s because you’re not broken, Dino. You just need someone to remind you how much you’re worth.”

He didn’t respond, but the way he pulled her closer said everything. Chaehyun leaned back slightly, pulling the covers over them both as she shifted to lie more comfortably. Dinozen followed her movements without protest, his arm wrapping around her waist as he settled against her.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” he asked, his voice already heavy with sleep.

“Not a chance,” Chaehyun replied, her lips curving into a soft smile. “I’m staying right here, big guy.”

Within minutes, his breathing deepened, and she could feel the tension leave his body entirely. Chaehyun stayed awake a little longer, watching his features soften in sleep, the exhaustion and pain etched into his face fading away. She brushed her thumb lightly over his cheek one last time before closing her eyes, the warmth of his embrace pulling her into sleep.

Scene: Morning Renewal

The smell of something savory woke Chaehyun the next morning. She blinked her eyes open, the early sunlight streaming through the curtains. Stretching, she sat up slowly, her body still cocooned in the warmth of the blanket Dinozen had tucked around her sometime during the night.

She padded out of the bedroom, drawn by the tantalizing aroma. There, in the small kitchen, was Dinozen. He stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease, his posture more relaxed than she had seen in weeks. The sleeves of his hoodie were pushed up, and there was even a faint hum under his breath—a melody she couldn’t quite place but recognized as something he used to hum when he was in a good mood.

“Look who’s up,” Dinozen said without turning around, his voice light. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Go sit down.”

Chaehyun leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as she watched him. There was something different about him this morning. The shadows that had clung to him so tightly the night before seemed to have lifted, replaced by a quiet calm that made her chest ache with relief.

“You seem… better,” she said softly, her lips curving into a small smile.

Dinozen glanced over his shoulder at her, his eyes warm. “Yeah. Guess a good night’s sleep helps. Or maybe it’s the company.”

Chaehyun rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile as she moved to sit at the table. “Flatterer.”

He brought a plate over, setting it in front of her with a flourish. “Pancakes, eggs, and bacon, just the way you like it.”

She looked down at the plate and then back up at him, her heart swelling. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to.” Dinozen shrugged, sitting down across from her with his own plate. “Least I could do after everything you’ve done for me.”

Chaehyun picked up her fork but paused, looking at him with a mix of affection and mock annoyance. “You know,” she said, her tone light but pointed, “if this is how good you feel after one night, you definitely need to write me again.”

Dinozen froze mid-bite, his cheeks turning slightly pink. He tried to play it off with a chuckle. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.” Chaehyun leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she gave him a knowing smile. “I’m not just your muse—I’m your wake-up call. And you clearly need me around more often.”

Dinozen laughed, shaking his head. “Fine, fine. You win. I’ll write you again. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” she teased, digging into her food.

[simoia-vajik]

Transposition In The Universe

(A fanfiction based off @hugsarethugs's reverse au of Robotnik and Stone)

(Story is also available on AO3 under the same name)

(I also subtly imply some of my headcanons so I hope you don't mind. I'd also like to say that most of the starting chapters of this fic is written prior to new posts from hugsarethugs. Thanks for reading!)

It was a fairly normal day at G.U.N., so to say; with people going about their business or talking in the break room, everything seems to have some kind of order.

Through the hallways, the audible sound of footsteps clinking against metal tiles told the surrounding agents of one irritating person: Agent Ivo Robotnik.

However, instead of stopping by to "lecture" them about their ceaseless chatter and imbecilic behaviors, Robotnik has an unusual business to attend to, and he clearly has no intention of getting sidetracked.

Upon reaching the lab, the takes moment to adjust his appearance with one hand - the other being occupied by a coffee cup - smoothing out his suit, making sure his hair isn't sticking up weird and paying close attention to the curl of his mustache. Once Robotnik makes the finishing touches, his hand comes up to knock on the metal doors.

A single knock rang out, and moments later, the door slides open ominously. Robotnik considers turning back and informing Commander Walters that he was resigning from the task, but decided he wasn't backing away.

When he enters, the lab was pitch black and quiet, only the soft glow of holographic panels illuminating its limited surroundings. Robotnik internally shiver; pair with the eerie silence and darkness, the lab comes with a chilly atmosphere like someone had turned the A.C down too low to cool the scorching summer heat.

Robotnik felt like he just walked into a real life horror movie. He hates horror movies.

"Doctor Stone?" Robotnik tried calling, his hand feeling the wall to his left, keeping his balance and making sure the coffee doesn't spill by taking careful steps. "I'm Agent Ivo Robotnik and I was assigned as your personal assistant by Commander Walters." Robotnik said again, visibly clenching his fist at the mention of Walters.

Not that Robotnik held grudges against the man, no, but the way he operates pisses him off.

With not so much as a noise of acknowledgement from said person, Robotnik begins approaching the light, hoping to find out the switch to turn on the electricity in the lab. However, before he reaches the control panel, he jumps back in fright as a pair of (glowing?) eyes glared back at him.

The air becomes thin as Robotnik tries to recover from the fright, his hand pressed tightly to his chest to try and stabilize his breathing. It didn't take long for the agent to recover his composure.

"Doctor, I'm Agent Ivo Robot-"

Dr. Stone raises his hand, cutting Robotnik off mid-sentence, turning his chair to reveal an unimpressed and unamused expression.

Robotnik frowns at the interruption, but doesn't say anything further as he just stands there, awkwardly and involuntarily engaging in a staring contest with his new boss.

The lab's lights spark to life unexpectedly, sending Robotnik into another momentary shock, flinching calmly just enough to go unnoticed.

After regaining his bearings and facing the Doctor once more; Robotnik knows his face must be very unpleasant for some superiors to deal with or even look at, the fact that it's expressing his judgement towards his new boss might get him killed.

Slowly, he hands over the coffee cup to Dr. Stone, who stared at it for a brief moment before reaching out a gloved hand, tentatively taking the cup and bringing it up to take a sip.

At that moment, Robotnik decides to avoid eye contact with the Doctor, but his lingering, almost curious gaze bore holes into the agent. Robotnik has to say something, just anything! But seeing that the man he'll be working under for the next month was just as crazy as the rest - his previous agents - claim makes him perspire.

It might have been a solid minute or two of Robotnik standing there by the doctor's side for him to finally speak up. "How's the coffee, Doctor?" Robotnik asked at a weak attempt of starting a small talk.

Dr. Stone didn't answer, he just stares up at Robotnik with that empty, blank and cold glare of his. Robotnik quickly notes that the Doctor's pupils aren't that dilated; he looks like he has eye miosis. Maybe he does.

Another second ticks by, just the two of them staring at each other. Awkwardly.

"[Beep bap boop]! Magnificent, Agent! Never had a coffee like this before!" Robotnik said loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls and back at him.

It was yet another weak attempt at some sort of communication since his new boss doesn't seem too keen on engaging in human interaction. Robotnik could tell the Doctor was taken aback by his sudden and possibly eccentric behavior, looking back down to his coffee and taking another sip. His pupils have dilated a bit.

Robotnik is immediately silently directed to his work station after their awkward first interaction, and the Agent couldn't be more glad than to get to work so he doesn't have to try and communicate to his weird new boss.

He never cared what his superiors thought of him, mainly because his file and track records show that he is flawless in most of the things he do. But, for Dr. Stone... Perhaps he would be a bit more careful around him.

The day drag on without so much as another exchange between the two, all besides working on their perspective jobs either on the laptop or the holo-screens.

It was until later when Robotnik decides trying to sort through the pile of emails was fruitless, he looks up to be met with a machine floating in front of him.

The machine's shape could be described as a flat pentagon with rounded edges. There's a circle in the middle that emits a purple sensor light; it dilates how the Doctor's pupils would, focusing and unfocusing on Robotnik as he continues to examine its design.

Overall, the tech looks simple but eye-catching, though not very impressive in his opinion. Robotnik has built prototypes of his own machine-like-drones but has never got around to finishing them, mainly because he had piles of missions and assignments to finish.

Robotnik stares at it for another moment, noting down the rest of its exterior design to use as reference for his own. Knowing the risks of getting hurt with unfamiliar machineries, Robotnik decides to return to his work, typing away on his laptop.

The machine didn't bother him any further, seemingly just doing scans around the lab and taking note of Robotnik's presence. The Agent thinks it classified him as a potential threat to the Doctor, but that's not something new to him.

The other agents see him as a threat, a bomb about to explode at any given moment. Robotnik silently hopes people will always think that, that way he could minimize his contact with the stupid peons that make up nearly the 99% of the world's population.