#i think in the end it is something that gives him a lot of pleasure once he fully embraces it though because

[lukyan-chan-blog]

DP X DC Prompt Dead Soulmates

Clockwork said that in this world he would be safe, learn a lot and be happy, that it wouldn't take him long to find his happiness but he just appeared in an alley that doesn't bode well for him.

This is similar to my previous post. Jason and Danny are the same person, here they are codependent brothers and they are 2 almost 3 years apart. The warning is that this is very self-indulgent, the cannon doesn't matter, I don't speak English, a lot of people have a hard time, it is implied that Bruce is having a very hard time.

_______________________

Red Hood hears a commotion in an alley, there are a couple of men unconscious, a boy tries to calm one of the girls. Soon another pair of girls arrive and take their friend away, but not before thanking and giving something to the boy who keeps looking at the unconscious men but then looks up and finds him. There are two problems, one of them is that the boy's eyes glow a Lazarus green color but he doesn't look violent and two, more importantly, that boy has his face, no, not just his face, he is short, his red sweatshirt is worn and dirty, his jeans are torn at the knees, his sneakers have also seen better days. Only he is paler but his hair is black, the shape of his face is identical, it is his 15 year old self with the clothes he wore when he was on the street, he even has an old pipe nearby that must have been the weapon he used to knock out those men.

The bright eyes fade, revealing blue eyes he hasn't seen since Ethiopia. The boy doesn't seem to take it as a threat, in fact he relaxes.

"Did you know that you have died and you are still like dead inside?" It has to be a version of him from another dimension, no one else would be so brazen.

"And what about you?"

"I died too"

It turns out that he is and is not a version of him, he is not another Jason Todd who was born in Gotham and whose life is a disaster, he is a Danny (last name pending) who was born in Amity Park and his life is a disaster. They are the same person, the same soul but their worlds are different, the living situation is also completely different but once they have been together for only an hour they cannot think of being apart.

Danny is 16 years old, his parents almost cut him open like a damn frog, they had rescued him before playing with his insides but the scar from the opening still remained. (murder of shitty parents pending)

Danny is as thin as he was at that age, maybe even thinner. He has to feed this child, this child who dies and comes back to life at will (waiting for a nervous breakdown). He also helped him remove the remains of Lazarus from the water, which was ruining him. Now you have clarity.

Danny tells him about Dan and how somehow, even though he's a murderer, a villain, someone who's willing to get blood on his hands, Jason still doesn't scare him, he's different from Dan, Jason feels safe, here in this run-down apartment he feels much safer than he did in his old house, here where Jason can protect him from humans.

Plans to attack the new Robin come to an end, instead, perhaps, they simply plan to break his leg - nothing too serious - if he gets in their way. Danny doesn't seem scared by the violence, just thoughtful, he didn't know how to defend himself against people, humans are more fragile and he is stronger so having training to be able to defend himself without doing them great harm calms him down somehow. Perhaps the part that surprised them both the most was that he wasn't that uncomfortable with the deaths.

Somehow, in his head, crime alley was Jason's refuge, a refuge much more problematic than Amity Park, all those people who hurt weaker others for fun, for pleasure, he felt bad, he wanted to help, he needed to help, these criminals won't understand, they won't stop and for them to be killed by Jason… it seems… logical? Frostbite had told him about the different protective spirits, Jason was certainly one even though he was more alive than him but this seemed normal, Frostbite told him that it was more strange a protective spirit that didn't hurt anyone, although he also said it was because of power, he had so much power that he could afford not to seriously hurt someone. But Jason didn't have that luxury, even if he had the same power, Jason fought against other humans, he tried to give his people better opportunities. Jason didn't consider himself a hero or vigilante, not anymore, that hadn't worked, a hero or vigilante couldn't make Jason's decisions, it wasn't right and he understood why Clockwork brought him to that universe, one where he would be safe, one where he would learn.

He never wanted to be a hero, he doesn't want to be king either but for now he is a crown prince, one day he will be king and Jason seemed capable, even if someone said he was too emotional, that's how the dead were, it was the only thing they had left, their emotions, even memories can be lost along with the bodies of flesh and blood but the emotions remain. They loved intensely in the same way, they were in many ways the same person.

Without Lazarus' madness, Jason's plans changed, especially the final part, the confrontation with Bruce… it won't work, Bruce won't do it, and that knowledge destroys him.

"Well, the plans are ruined, what do we do now?"

"I don't know, maybe if there really was no other way, Bruce wouldn't do it…"

"We can annoy them in the meantime, I'm like you when you died, let's scare them!"

"I don't think you want to wear the Robin suit but we can steal the Batmobile."

"It's a cool car, but outside of the color combination, the suit can't be that bad."

"…I used another one"

"How bad can it be?"

When Danny infiltrated the Batcave, he saw the suit, he was horrified to only see it from afar. He didn't even get close, but he returned flying at full speed, becoming visible again in the room.

"Why were you wearing that?! Why weren't you wearing pants?!"

"In my defense, I really tried wearing pants."

"I'm not going to wear that!"

"I told you it was that bad and you haven't seen Discowing's suit."

"I don't want to know!"

"You could just wear the top or we can get clothes that look like what he had but we're going to torment the old man."

____________________

The patrol ends well, Dick and Tim are about to catch up with him so they can return to the mansion, he approaches the Batmobile when he realizes that its tires are missing, his heart sinks when he sees it. This time he's removing the last tire, Jason is there, their eyes meet, his face contorts in amusement.

“It looks like you've seen a ghost, B.” The voice is the same, the voice that is broken by adolescence, the voice that will never be an adult. It's like it never left, it's not possible, it can't be real

"Won't you say anything? How cold! Well then this time I'll take the whole game!"

Jason walks away towards the alley with the last tire, he wants to move, he wants to reach it even if it's not real. He can see the end of the alley, he can see the moment when Jason disappears long before he reaches the far wall.

There's no one there anymore. He looks at his car again, the tires are not there either.

At first she starts seeing Jason everywhere again, even in his office, he's there eating something from a food stall they used to go to, other times he's reading. He always complains that I don't talk to him. Also many of his things disappear, sometimes Jason tells him that he should sleep more. He even hits him once, although this is probably all a result of the concussion he received at some point while on patrol. He's pretty confused because the concussion keeps him in bed for at least three days.

______________

Robin is there, holding his uniform, curious and critical. "At least you had the pants."

He stutters not knowing what to say but nods.

"Hey, did you know that wearing the clothes of the dead brings bad luck?"

“eh…no, I didn't know, I need to sleep more, I'm hallucinating Robin”

"Look, just change your name, I want to stay Robin and I can't be Robin if there's a Robin alive, so change your name and then I won't have to curse you."

"But Batman and Gotham need Robin!"

"I don't think you'll leave this job until you die too, but change your name, bye Timpans."

He begins to hallucinate Robin more frequently, always takes away her coffee, and sometimes seems worried about the crazy things she says. Maybe really have a problem.

__________

Danny looks at Dick Grayson, this guy needs help and he's already hallucinating Jason, this is sad and very uncomfortable.

“Man, you need help” - he tells him while helping clean the apartment.

“I don't think anything will get better, Jay” - responds from the kitchen island

____________

There is someone in the kitchen, taking the cookies that are cooling, the boy seems embarrassed to be discovered.

“I'm sorry” he apologizes.

"Do you want more cookies, Master Jason?"

“Can I bring cookies to a friend?”

"…yes, Master Jason"

"…thank you"

________________

The information Danny brings him changes a lot of things, he misses Alfred, he's worried about Dick, they should help Tim somehow but Bruce… it's still difficult.

He infiltrates the cave again, he will enter the computer to extract information for Jason.

Is Bruce Wayne there, scolding Tim? The cave grows colder with every word Jason's father says, clenching his fists. How dare you? How dare you say that about my Jason?! Controlling himself as best he can, waiting for Tim to come up to the mansion, Batman heads to the computer.

"You lied" he says "why did you tell all those lies to Tim?" The man doesn't react, he gets to work. "Don't tell lies about me!"

Batman doesn't react outwardly but he senses the man's concern, well, no one talks about Jason like that. He is about to go up to the mansion for a while when he stops in front of the suit.

The commemorative plaque attracts attention. He feels angry, indignant, offended, sad because this is Jason's father, everyone else really misses Jason, but Batman doesn't respond to his provocations, Batman spreads lies about Jason… Batman won't kill the Joker for Jason. Well, maybe my Jason doesn't need Batman. Before leaving, he hits the glass, which breaks, which undoubtedly makes the man who looks at it react.

"This isn't going to stay like this, Batman."

_____________________

Jason continues to insist that he needs help. "Damn it, Dick, you need therapy!"

Raven appears in his living room, I already knew she would but she stays still and one of the Jasons stays still, laughing nervously, Raven moves and Jason disappears in a panic.

“What just happened?”

"Dick, that was a real ghost."

"Wait, that was really Jason?!"

“Yes, his soul felt the same as the last time I saw him.”

"Jason came to see me!"

"Dick, we still need to talk about this."

"Rachael, that was Jason's ghost, that's so much more important!"

____________

A subsequent call with some members of the DJL discovers the residual energy left by the ghost that has been hovering near them.

Jason appeared in the kitchen with his hands in the cookie jar, staring at them like a deer in the headlights.

“My God, it's a really powerful ghost, it's so solid” Zatanna exclaimed.

"Forget about it" Constantine seemed more upset, more tense "it reeks of infinity Realms! He didn't turn into just any dead man!"

“It's not me who reeks of your broken soul,” he defends himself, taking the bottle.

"You…you have to go, rest in peace" the words come out harsher than Bruce intended, but it's actually Jason, but that was a bad thing because his son seemed upset.

“Okay, but you have to stop lying about me and kill the joker” he demands

"I killed the joker!" Dick shouts, surprising some there, Jason being one of them. “I killed him, I beat him to death because he was making fun of you and he said that he had killed Tim too and that he couldn't, Jay, little Wing couldn't leave him like that.”

“…then…why is he alive…?” he asks confused. But that's where the response is worse, Dick doesn't dare look at his father, the silence is tense.

"I couldn't let Dick do that to himself."

The words seem to hit the ghost, something like horror and then fury, blue eyes glowing a toxic green.

“This won't stay like this, Batman.” The ghost disappears and sinks into the ground.

__________

Jason's look of horror is painful, he had to tell him the truth, what his father had done. Even in disbelief, he goes to the computer with the stolen files to search for them.

Danny is still upset but decides to eat part of the cookie jar he stole.

“That sad blonde man in the trench coat, who is he?”

"John Constantine, do you know him?"

"Clockwork and Pandora said I shouldn't make deals with him... I don't know what magic will do to me, there was no magic in my world."

"First they'll have to get over me, I won't let them hurt you."

________________

At first the presence of the ghost left an obvious trail but then its aura grew, it could be felt in much of the city which made it difficult to track it. Another problem is what they would do once they found it, it was too powerful, enough to be solid and affect everything with its touch, even to look like a living person.

The few options would not be good for the boy, they could try to banish him but they could damage his soul, all the options would cause him great pain or they could corrupt his soul and make him violent. The easiest thing was to comply with his requests, which would allow him to leave easier and without pain. In the meantime, they could try to seal it into some object, but that would also be painful and when they released it it would become violent.

“The least harmful thing would be if they managed to convince him to leave or not be aggressive.” Zatanna doesn't seem to think they'll succeed, but she can't stay all the time either.

Constantine only warned them what they should not ask, nor underestimate the power of the ghost, he gave them what seemed to be projectiles with a special mixture to weaken the entity but it could not be defeated and he left, he would try to find something that would not kill anyone.

As if that were not enough, a new rogue made his appearance, leaving a bag of human parts, the most cheeky being Black Mask head. He claimed Crime Alley and the other nearby neighborhoods as his own, his territory where his rules would be obeyed with an iron fist.

They are torn between searching for Jason's ghost and Red Hood. Sometimes, Jason appears in the same room and demands that Bruce stop lying about him. Other times things will be missing everywhere, mainly in the cave. One day Jason was particularly upset and took the Batmobile. All trackers went offline and could not be recovered. Other times he would yell at Dick to take better care of himself, clean his apartment and protect Tim, and seconds later he would leave. They weren't very advanced in that.

Red Hood took advantage of the fact that they were too busy with Jason, many more people disappeared and Barbara lost cameras almost every day in Hood's territory.

_____________________

Danny was still a little annoyed by the number of rogues that existed in the city, he had made a list of the ones that should actually die as well and then made another list of the rogues that should be stopped but not killed. That was actually a very long list...

They had had to move, now that their little brother was no longer holding back, he was releasing a lot of ectoplasm, passively, that would affect the people around him, in a city like Gotham that could be very dangerous. They were underground, in what looked like a lair or place of worship that was no longer used, it was honestly crazy that the building was in good condition when Danny found it during his explorations of the city in the first few months.

Of course the site was under a building that had formerly been a church, Lil Star assured that the site was free of other entities or bad vibes. It was being a work in progress because setting up this place without much help was difficult, this had to be his main hideout, his home and to really make him feel that way would take a long time. For now Danny has a lot of technology that he could entertain himself with, his most striking piece of decoration was still the Batmobile that he was modifying a little to be able to use.

He was equipping the sacrificial chamber for the rogues who would be arrested. It was really strange because he didn't really want to do all this but he felt like he had to do it to keep everyone safe, he's not killing them all and he's not having fun with it either, it's a pain and he wants to get it over with soon but like Danny said there were too many.

Sigh, at least his people were in a better mood, his men went out to help him patrol his entire territory and everything was going well.

Danny was still angry at Bruce, it was cute actually, the way Danny took offense to him, he looked like a kitten hissing at Bruce's picture. Although in reality Danny was the complete opposite of a kitten, he could be very destructive, he had that capacity but apart from defending his honor he wanted to help as many people as he could because he was that kind.

He also had a lot of old gadgets that he repaired for free for people, it made him feel good and he was proud of him. He has the smartest, most adorable little brother ever. I should feed him more.

Deep down have the impression that those thoughts [feelings] are unusual.

Why do feel this way? Why aren't worried?

It was like having a little twin brother, that didn't make much sense. Maybe he could blame it on the fact that he was absorbing all the ectoplasm that Danny released, it was already something, he was alive but not that much, Lazarus' water was no longer "polluting" him but had been replaced by Danny's ecto.

Maybe he would become like Danny and it was taking him longer, there are already “small” changes, although his eyes went back to being blue when he gets too excited they change to a bright green but he doesn't feel the fury.

His regeneration has improved, he no longer feels so tired, he doesn't seem to need much sleep to feel rested, despite his huge body he feels light when jumping across rooftops seems so easy and they both have a bigger appetite for sure.

Although he misses Alfred and Dick, he is very happy with his little brother.

_________________

As the weeks go by, more rogues are being attacked, incapacitated, very few have died, Red Hood remains uncaptured, they have nothing against him. Tim has his theories but they don't want to believe them, after all the only way to disappear like a ghost is to have help from a ghost, right?

Robin appears in front of Tim, he even looks tired, like something is wrong but he hands him a small surveillance camera, it's old, it still has the tape inside.

“Jason.”

“I want him to stop lying” he says again, offering him the camera and a USB memory “he didn't believe me.”

The ghost disappears again, leaving things with him, carefully. He analyzes the content of the video tape, the surveillance video is a little grainy but he can improve it, he doesn't know what he's looking for but after moving forward a few hours, he can see the moment when a man falls by accident. He gets closer, improves the quality of the image and there it is, Felipe Garzonas, with his own uncoordinated steps, loses his balance and falls although Robin tries to help without success.

This is proof that Jason didn't kill anyone. In the USB there is another more critical piece of evidence, Felipe Garzonas faked his death, changed his name, actually lives on some Caribbean island and is still a criminal.

He'll have to take this evidence to Barbara, but now he understands what Jason had meant by "stop lying." The only thing Jason appears in front of him for is to leave more evidence, perhaps because he wasn't going to hide it or because he could face the new reality more easily.

Finally the letters follow, appearing near Dick. Everything reveals a huge series of misunderstandings but the last letter worries them.

"I hate the grave you gave me, I hated the funeral, I hated the coffin, so I'll put my own grave in the right place, next to the right people, you should have put better sensors."

________________

I was supposed to write that scene from my previous post because it's still in my head, but I also had this one so I wrote it. It was a little long so I separated it into two parts, part two is over and I was going to post it last night but I got distracted.

Tim stops being Robin because of an injury instead of the whole parent situation, Cass still isn't adopted by Bruce, Steph becomes Robin, “dies” like she's supposed to, and Tim goes back to being Robin.

Danny visited Barbara once pretending to be Jason and decided not to do it again because he looks too much like Jazz, so Barbara only received letters and information without seeing “Jason” at all.

What happened to Jazz? Imagine he realized that the whole thing in Amity was too much, Danny always insists that he has everything under control so he skipped ahead a year, went to college and never came back. Sam and Tucker would have had enough too, their families would have too, the move gave them excuses to leave Danny behind (although everyone here feels very guilty about leaving Danny behind)

Danny is rescued by his rogues and the Fenton portal is destroyed, the Phantom Planet thing does not happen, all this in the course of 15 to 16 years everything gets out of control.

Jason trains him to stop relying on his powers, feeds him and cares for him. I have the HC that Danny would take a long time to grow up, he would still look the same until some time later, so they can carry the deception that Danny is Jason's ghost.

The Dark League cannot see all that Danny really is except for Constantine who saw this dead boy, noticed that he was incredibly powerful, that he had a crown and blessings from the ancients, decided to keep everything quiet and not give real answers to anyone.

Bye ~

[boxeom]

Like Sylus, in my mind, is indeed the King Switch of Love and Deepspace (next to Raf, but he's a very very different case) but he's got like...power sub dynamics going on. I think it takes a lot to get him to truly REALLY get into that space of completely surrendering control. I think he's a bit nervous for it even if he acts like he isn't. Of course, he trusts you with all his heart and soul, but as someone who lives his life having to be the one with the power it's a new thing for him to physically and sexually explore.

[sysig]

Justify away (Patreon)

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Good enough

Tags: Caleb x fem!Reader, smut, unprotected angry sex, Caleb’s back and he’s jealous, breeding kink, mdni, not proofread sorry, this shit is NASTY i fear.

An: This one is for a dear friend of mine 🙂‍↕️ Thanks for making me pull out of my writer’s block. LOOK i’m so sorry if this is bad but i had to write SOMETHING to pull me out of this funk… i hope you all enjoy

How did you end up trapped underneath your half-cyborg best friend who was legally deceased while taking the meanest deep strokes of your life? Well, there’s a simple answer. Caleb knew Xavier was home.

Actually, he knew everything: the dates, the tender moments, the secret times, the nightly rendezvous. Pissed was an understatement.

Had you forgotten? Had you forgotten all the promises you two made each other when you were younger? Had you forgotten that you were fucking made for him? You had to have. That’s why you were stringing along 4 different guys. You were trying to fill a hole that only he could fill.

That had to be why.

Regardless, Caleb knew Xavier was the type to listen to you through the floorboards of his upstairs apartment. He was a lot alike Caleb in that sort of manner. They were both possessive freaks who couldn’t stand the thought of you being with somebody else.

That’s why Caleb was fucking you so hard — pounding your pretty pussy so deeply into the mattress that you were seeing stars with each mean thrust.

He used his size to his advantage. It was fitting. He’d always loved how much bigger he was than you. That’s how you received your adorned nickname: pipsqueak.

He planned on his first time with you being a lot more gentle than this. He planned on being sweet and loving. He planned on cherishing your body the way you deserve, but you just had to go and give yourself to 4 other guys before him.

“Stop crying.” His voice rumbled as his piercing gaze found yours — so much different than the sweet childhood friend you had. His hand covered your mouth as he hunched over your figure, still ramming his cock head into you ruthlessly. “I know you can take it. I’ve watched you take it before.”

Your eyes blinked back tears as you looked up at him. He was being so mean. You couldn’t believe this was the same doting Caleb that you grew up with, and you didn’t even want to think about the face he had been watching you…

“Fucking pussy’s made for me, and you’ve been letting other men try to make her feel good.” He growled as he used his less-than-human arm reach down and gently rub against your small button of nerves.

“Caleb-!” You choked out as your body writhed beneath him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock splitting you apart, making you wholly his and his alone.

“That’s right… Say my name, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” He prompted with a confident smirk before he hauled your legs up above his shoulders, sinking even deeper into your dripping cunt.

Clawing at the bed, your back arched as you tried to cope with the intrusion. He’s so fucking deep it feels like you’re going to choke on him. “Caleb-“ You sob as your cunt pitifully clenches around him.

Feeling you wrapped around him so sweetly, crying out his name as you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure has Caleb revitalized with a new vigor. His hips work in tight circles, pumping his fat cock in and out of you as your cunt makes the most obscene squelching noises he’s ever heard.

“Such a fucking noisy girl. I should’ve know you were going to be a crybaby.” He teased before placing open mouth kisses along your neck snd shoulder.

“W-wait Caleb- calebcalebcaleb. I’m gonna..” You pant out nervously as his metal fingers were still rubbing languid circled around your cunt, and his tip was smooshing globs of precum against your cervix.

His fingers suddenly pinch down on your clit, making you cry out from the sensation. Your body went taut as you were being dangled on the edge of pleasure. His robotic arm wasn’t quite letting you get there.

You thought his arm was literally malfunctioning until you heard him chuckle from your suffering.

“You’re going to cum when I saw you can, okay baby?” He asked in that same condescending tone he always used when you two were younger.

His hips continued to roll after he was sure that you weren’t going to fall off the deep end, and he let out deep guttural groans, feeling your pretty pussy soak him. It was like you were practically trying to suck him in. He couldn’t believe he had waited this long to sink into your cunt like this.

and the best part about it was he knew your stupid upstairs neighbor was listening! Xavier knew you were down here getting railed, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Hell, if he even tried, Caleb would use his evol and force him kneel beside the bed as he drilled you even harder.

Fuck, the thought of slutting you out in front of every single one of your little boyfriends had his stomach tightening. His hips snapped forward into you with a pace that could only be described as feral.

You were a complete babbling mess at this point — utterly cock drunk as Caleb had you folded in half, filling you up to the brim with his length.

“Ohhh, that’s my girl.” He purred as he saw your glossed over look. “It’s coming, baby. I’m going to give you want you need.” He promised as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that completely contradicted the ruthless way his hips were rutting into you.

“C-caleb- Caleb no, wait.. Don’t cum inside-“ You stuttered out in a panic. You hadn’t been by the pharmacy yet to pick up birth control, so technically, this was all unprotected.

“Why?” He growled as his back curled over. He was fucking mounting you while holding your thighs in the prettiest mating press he’d ever seen. “You fucking let them fill you up. Am I not good enough to breed this pussy?”

His hips slammed into you. It felt like he was trying to push his way straight into your womb. It was mind-numbing pleasure, making black orbs and stars dance across your vision.

“Look at me, baby.” He ordered, dragging your face to look back up at him. You could barely see straight. It was all too much. “You’re going to let your best friend breed you, and you’re gonna fucking love it. You’re going to cum all over this fat cock until you can’t breathe. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded your head, halfway hearing his words. Your pussy was aching to cum. Your swollen puffy folds were greedily accepting him in with every thrust. You wanted this. Birth control be damned. Everyone else be damned.

Caleb gritted his teeth together as he gave you a few more good harsh thrusts for good measure. He then crushed his body against yours, burying himself all the way to your womb before his cock started to jerk and pulse inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his thick potent cum. The only thing on his mind was the need to see you, his childhood best friend, round with his baby.

He needed to see the look on each other of those pricks’ faces when they realized you were spoken for.

The cherry on top was when he felt your walls clenching around him, happily milking his cock for everything he had while you sobbed and hiccuped his name. It seemed like his childhood best friend was maybe just as twisted as he was. He’d have to give her an extra good reward for being such a good girl.

As the room went still and quiet — only filled with shared breaths and pants for air, the sound of someone stabbing a sword through the ceiling was heard, and Caleb chuckled deeply. He had definitely pissed Xavier off.

[angelltheninth]

Now that Devil May Cry is out may I request some head canons about riding Dante? Pretty please?

You can always make DMC requests from me!

Pairing: Dante Sparda x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cock riding, praise, clit stimulation, teasing, Dante being Dante

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I don't really care if people hate the Netflix anime, I love it. I want a season 2 right now.

the type of guy who would buy you a cowboy hat when you say you want to ride his cock

you don't have to wear the hat when you're riding him but he thinks it adds to the fun

a very touchy guy, he can never keep his hands to himself

Dante refuses to keep his hands away from your clit when you're having sex, it is a magical pleasure button after all, so even if you're doing most of the moving he still wants to give himself something to do

slaps your ass a lot, more often with just one hand but sometimes with both and always grabs you where he slapped, especially when he knows you're still sensitive

if you get tired he will lift your legs up, his arms below your knees and fingers interlocked with yours, before he starts hammering his cock into your sensitive wet hole

very chatty and will always tell you how much he's enjoying himself, or how hypnotized he is by the view of your pussy swallowing his hard cock, your pussy making his white pubic hair wet with it's slick, the slapping, lewd noise that your pussy makes when you lower yourself on him over and over

grins up at you and gives you a thumbs up when you make him come while riding him

when he wants you to ride him he will sit on the bed, pat his thighs and tell you to get on, and yes, he will absolutely also say yee-haw

has condoms in lots of different colors to make things more fun when he has to watch his cock go in and out of you

one interesting thing that he likes is to fuck you from behind but then he will stop, leave just the tip of his cock inside of you, feeling your pussy tighten, trying to pull him back in but he won't move

instead he tells you to ride his cock from this position

as much as he loves getting ridden he is still Dante at the end of the way, so of course he will find a way to be a cocky bastard about it

not like you didn't know that before you started dating, now your sex life is that much more fun, for having Dante there

[redr0sewrites]

Can I request hcs for batboys experiencing the best blowjobs in their life from their s/o who is shy and has no experience in the sexual activities (like this is their first time doing and they were eager to please the boys)?

🥀A/n: YES!!!! TYSM FOR REQUESTING!!!!

🥀Character(s): Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Bruce Wayne x reader

🥀Cw: smut, blowjob, dirty talk, praise, inexperienced/virgin!reader

🥀minors dni

Dick Grayson :

he's more than a little cocky at first, cooing at you and treating you like a precious little angel. your inexperience and eagerness definitely turns him on a bit, and that makes him all the more susceptible to how skilled you are at giving him head

thinks it's cute how shy you are, and definitely wants you to be naked beneath him. he doesn't mind if you touch yourself while your pleasuring him, and thinks it's adorable how your eyes widen when you see how big he is

how is that going to fit in your mouth?

while he does tease and mock you just a liiiittle, Dick isn't an asshole

he talks you through it the entire time as he's gently pushing his cock into your mouth, praising you for taking him so well and brushing the tears from your eyes when you gag on his length

when you start sucking him off, Dick swears he's in heaven. he can't help but buck his hips and grind against your face, and it takes everything in him to restrain himself from grabbing a fistfull of your hair and fucking your throat

his head is tossed back and his thighs are twitching, he's mumbling out praises and unashamedly moaning your name like it's a prayer

if you tease him a bit like he did to you and edge him, he will cry and bitch and moan about it until you let him cum.

also, this man has STAMINA expect him to last a little while. if you end up getting too needy and start masturbating while sucking him off, Dick will instruct you on what to do, what pace you should set, and if you end up edging him, he'll make you edge yourself as well. i don't think he's a very strict dom often, but he is commanding when it comes to this. loooveesss when you moan around his cock, the vibrations make him even louder and he is not ashamed of screaming your name when he comes like a porn star. (literally everyone in a mile radius is traumatized)

for your first time, i dont think he'd make you swallow his cum, and it would take a little while until he asks to cum in your mouth. i do think he prefers if u swallow it though. and if you show him his cum in your mouth before swallowing? be prepared for at least 2 more rounds of him just eating you out cuz that turns him on SO QUICK. he prefers to cum in your mouth but won't for the first time out of fear that you think he's a weirdo (he is)

Jason Todd :

Jason is also big on praising you, especially when it comes to your first time sucking him off. he wants to make the experience as comfortable for you as possible and is adamant about having you tap out if anything makes you uncomfortable

thinks its hot when you kneel in front of him, he has a bit of a size kink and you in a smaller position turns him on more than he'd like to admit

makes you suck on his fingers before he lets you suck on his cock. he's a little bit mean and makes you spit on his dick as lube, there's something about how sloppy it is that makes him feral

holds your jaw while you take him in your mouth and coos the sweetest praises as you adjust to his size. Jason is quick to calm any anxieties you have about not being able to take him, and his hand doesn't leave your face the entire time you suck him off. whenever you gag or gasp around him, his thumb runs soothingly over your cheek and he pulls out ever so slightly

talks you through it at first, giving you firm instructions on how to please him.

"fuuck, yea doll, swirl your tongue jus' like that. see baby, you're a natural, practically made f'my cock.."

lots of soft grunts and groans with the occasional whine. he isn't as much of a talker as he begins to get close, but is still pretty vocal

prefers to pull out and cum on your chest, he definitely would not cum on your face but wouldn't mind cumming in your mouth. your chest is definitely his preference though, and he loves when you look up at him with big doe eyes as his release drips down your front

definitely returns the favor and makes you cum at least twice, and is also big on aftercare!!

Bruce Wayne :

listen, while Bruce is definitely into blowjobs, he gets off on your pleasure more than his own. he'll buy you one of those remote controlled vibrators to use on you while your sucking him off, and increases the vibrations when he's close so you both cum at the same time

very gentle with you. he doesn't want to make you gag or hurt you, and he keeps a cautious hand gently resting on the top of your head as you take him into your mouth

loooots of praise, especially when you moan around his cock from the vibrator

Bruce is very quiet during sex in general, but he's a little more vocal than usual when receiving head. he lets out soft sighs and groans of pleasure, mixed in with praises and affectionate whispers of your name

"yes, darling, just like that... so good f'me..."

his thighs twitch and shudder a looot when you suck him off, and his back arches ever so slightly <3 its a very pretty sight to see

while your first time would probably be in the safety and comfort of your bedroom, Bruce loves the intensity of semi-public sex. he definitely wants you to suck him off under his desk, the risk and thrill of being caught all the more prominent whenever footsteps are heard walking by his office doors

likes teasing you and edging you with the vibrator, he wants this to be a pleasurable experience for both of you but may tease you just a bit about cumming untouched

prefers to cum in your mouth, but he'll ask if it's okay before he does so. its a bit of a dirty secret, but he loves kissing you after you gave him head and tasting himself on your tongue. he isn't exactly possessive, but it arouses him more than he'd care to admit

very sweet with aftercare! he'll chuckle at you a bit if you complain about having a sore jaw, but otherwise treats you very well. he definitely always eats you out after you auck him off, even though you've already came. he also would be into experimenting with the remote control vibrator some more if your interested.... 😇

if this seems a teensy bit bad then im sorry, i wrote it while very sleep deprived 💀

ANYWAYS!!! HOPE U ENJOYED!!!! plsplsoslspslsps PLEASE send in jason todd asks this is not a drill

[sukunasweetheart]

Boyfriend kuna who has the pleasure of meeting your giant domesticated cat that looks exactly like him (but no one actually sees the resemblance except you..)

"That fucker is big. You sure it's not some wild feral cat?"

"Don't call him a fucker! And he's not feral... not anymore, at least."

Kittykuna seems indifferent to your cooing and doting as he remains in a loaf position, and something about the scene feels strangely familiar...

Kittykuna makes eye contact with sukuna - and then hisses.

"... i can see that he's certainly friendly."

"Oh, dont be like that. It took me ages to get close to him as well."

Kittykuna seems very protective of you. Whenever you're lounging about in the living room, he will curl up on your lap or in your arms, and make biscuits on your plush body while making eye contact with sukuna, purring. It mildly pisses him off, but he can't make it known that he's even remotely jealous of a cat.

They clash a lot, you often hear sukuna cursing under his breath and verbally chastising your cat, but their harmless beef and the way he will sometimes return with little scratches or bite marks on his arms make you laugh so hard. It takes a few weeks for them to warm up to each other.

It's very entertaining to watch kittykuna obscure sukuna's vision with his tail when he's lying down to watch tv. He takes his revenge later on by pretending to give him treats, only to hover it away from him. You have to intervene in the end, to scold him for teasing your cat too much.

Sukuna then comes up with a brilliant idea of getting a second cat.

"Don't you think it's a bit boring for him being alone in the house all the time?"

"Really? I don't know... he can be a bit territorial, I'm worried he won't get along with a new cat well."

"Never know 'til we try it."

And then, well, sukuna ends up bringing another cat home. Of course, you don't notice it, but she resembles you.

It takes time to properly and slowly introduce the new cat to your home and to kittykuna. They're both very cautious of each other at first. But you soon see the ice melting, with them gradually becoming comfortable enough to be in the same room, to sharing toys, eating meals together, and then finally beginning to groom each other.

In fact, you find that they soon become inseparable. You've never seen kittykuna become so clingy before. It's like every other day that you see him licking the other cat's fur in his arms, while it purrs contently with her eyes closed.

Sukuna seems proud of himself.

"What did i tell you? He was lonely."

"You didn't say lonely. You said bored," you correct him, crossing your arms.

"Whatever you say, princess."

Watching the cats be all lovey dovey makes him feel like doing the same...

Months later, it soon comes to your attention, that the newer kitty has gained a bit of weight. When you and sukuna take her to the vet (to kittykuna's displeasure) you find out that she is pregnant.

The gasp you let out is dramatic, and sukuna can only laugh as he shakes his head.

"The two of you have been up to naughty things while we weren't watching..." you tell the cats with your hands on your hips. You should've seen it coming, from the way kittykuna always seemed to mount the new cat possessively.

Though you are really excited to see the newborn kittens soon...

"Leave them be. In fact, don't you think they're good role models for us...?" Sukuna recites in your ear teasingly, deeply chuckling.

"I don't know what you mean..."

I suppose you're about to find out exactly what he means tonight...

[mickyschumacher]

hey could u give us something with the reader wearing body glitter and max and reader kinda are lowkey or uk fwb just fucking in secret and he is kinda in love but doesn't wanna ruin it

but then they go to a party and like she is wearing body glitter uk those glitter sprays and he finds her so irresistible and has to uk get a quickie and then when they come back he is covered in glitter and thats how ppl find out

u could also make it Charles's sister or something

[YOU'RE SO GOLDEN!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: max should stay away from you if he knows what's best for him. but he can't help it. you just... sparkle. or in which you forget to rub off the evidence of max's love.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), fluff, fwb/forbidden love themes, max is down bad for the reader, light praise kink, oral sex/eating out, p in v, unprotected sex (protect yourselves pls), cumming inside, mutual orgasms, orgasm denial kinda, poor humour imo, happy ending! // poorly proof-read ♡︎

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: max verstappen x leclerc!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.8k+

𝐀/𝐍: the ideas you lot have.... chef's kiss truly 💋 hope you like this one as much as i enjoyed writing it. also my first max fic... can you believe it? there's more coming dw! - ngl i kept thinking about edward cullen - "this is the skin of a killer, bella" 🫣

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Max knew it was a mistake coming here. He should've said no. His partying days had been over for a while now. He spent more time in his room streaming than he did outside. He especially knew it was a mistake because he knew you'd be there.

Charles never went anywhere without you. Wherever he was, you were.

Maybe that's why Max had gone to Lando's party. Because he knew Charles had said yes. Which meant you had said yes.

It was never supposed to happen. It was a one time thing. You were drunk. He was drunk. You didn't remember much of the night. Max had just won his fourth championship in Vegas. And that definitely warranted some partying in Monaco.

There were strobe lights. Martin Garrix was DJing. It was hot and humid. Somehow you had found your lips on Max's. The rest of the night was self-explanatory.

You had woke up the next morning, slightly distraught because Charles would only be first in the line of brothers that would kill you. And while Max peacefully slept in the morning, you took the walk of shame back to your apartment.

The problem was that neither of you could forget the time you spent together. Even though you had drunk one too many that night, you could remember every moment in his bed vividly. Max could still hear your laughs in the emptiness of his apartment. And when he closed his eyes every night before bed, he could see you on top of him.

Max was the one who had suggested the whole thing. Friends with benefits. He said it'd be good for some pleasure for the both of you. Because sex definitely isn't intimate or anything.

But Max was struggling to draw the line. He was feeling things he shouldn't. Concerned when you were sick. Excited for your texts. Small moments reminded him of you when he walked around. You were the first thing he thought about he got in the car and the last when he got out.

More. He craved more than the moments after where you talked for hours before you left. He wanted to wake up to you. He wanted you to pick outfits in front of him and let him pretend which one he liked until you were both back in bed, laughing and moaning.

Fuck. If he knew anything, he was falling in love with you with every passing day.

That's why he should've said no to this party. But, either to his greatest pleasure or his greatest misery, he could never say no to you

That's why Max had made some rules coming here:

No looking at you for more than thirty seconds (because Charles would know instantly).

No touching you. At all. This was non-negotiable.

One conversation. That's all he would allow himself. Because if he talked to you any longer, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

But those rules seem to fly out the window the instant you had walked in next to Charles. Max could've sworn he was watching it in slow motion.

It was still light out, sun only beginning to set. By the way you and your entourage was dressed, you had clearly been swimming. Your sheer black dress did the bare minimum to cover up your bikini underneath. Even worse was the cut out near your chest, holding the two sides of the dress together with a small metal circle, teasing him.

But that wasn't the worse thing. Nor was it the way your hair fanned across your body, set up as if God had done it himself. Nor was it your signature perfume wafting in the air already.

It was the glitter.

That stupid fucking body glitter.

It sparkled and shimmered on your skin. Your bare legs could make the light dance around you. Your arms held all the command, moving the shine and twinkles with each stride as you walked. And your collarbone – God, your collarbone. Glittering in such a way that he was sure he just wanted to lick you clean.

You were positively glowing in the sunset

You had him hooked. Fixated. And almost on his knees.

Max had already broken rule number one. Fuck the rest.

He tried to wait patiently. Watching you converse with a few people for the first ten minutes. But as you glimmered more from afar, his patience wore thin and his restraint was beginning to break.

Max sent you a text. Plain and Simple. Bathroom. Now.

He didn't wait for you to read it and look at him. Max knew you'd come. Because a bit like him, you also had trouble saying no.

Five minutes. That's how long it took for you to come to the bathroom. He would've argued that was five minutes too long.

You raised a brow, folding your arms, keeping your amusement at bay as Max neared you with a few strides, locking the bathroom door.

"Took you long enough," Max mumbled, leaning back to get a better view of you. His eyes glazed over the specks of glitter rubbed into your skin as he spoke. "What were you doing? Talking their ears off?"

You tilted your head to the side, eyes narrowed playfully. "I was enjoying it. Too bad someone was giving 'fuck me' eyes from across the room. You're basically begging for Charles to find out," you huffed quietly.

"Begging?" Max queried, brows raised in slight surprise. He smirked slowly, hands reaching out to brush over your collarbone, fingers grazing your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps across your shimmering skin. "The only person who's going to be begging is you when I'm done with you. Driving me crazy looking like this," he sighed out.

You shivered at his touch, breath caught at his words. You blinked, cheeks flushing. "It's just body glitter," you murmured quietly, teeth sinking into your lips as you watched him bend down, on his knees while he looked up at you.

"Maybe," Max shrugged, hands creeping up your legs, preventing you from clenching your thighs like you had been the moment you walked in here. "But you look so pretty," he confessed.

Your lips parted. His words sounded far from the Max you knew a couple months ago. This was... soft. Like he couldn't control his brain.

He peered at you, lips and cheek grazing the side of your thigh, edging closer and closer to the heat – fabric of your dress brushing his skin. "Let me taste you," he pleaded. "I need you so bad."

He wasn't lying. The bulge in his jeans was so strained, you almost could've sworn it was painful. You wondered what he had been doing for past five minutes. What he had been thinking about to get this hard.

"Everyone's outside," you reminded quietly, not directly saying no. And by 'everyone' you mainly meant Charles.

"They won't know. The music is too loud. I promise," Max reassured, patiently waiting for your answer, small kisses pressed on the inside of your thigh. His touch was tantalising.

You swallowed thickly, nodding. You only just trust your voice. "Okay," you agreed. "But we have to be quick. Ten minutes tops."

You were in the bathroom for Christ's sake. But any minute longer, Charles might have a search party going. God forbid his little sister was getting a good dicking down. (Max's words, not yours.)

You could feel his grin on the side of your thigh and it made you shudder. Max hummed with satisfaction. "Let's prepare you then."

You held your breath as his hands moved, riding your dress up past your thighs, bunching up at your waist while your black bikini bottoms stared at Max at eye level. He sighed, "Fuck me." The fabric was stuck to your folds, darker where damp.

"So wet," he laughed softly, the sound teasing as he pulled down the fabric, letting it pool your legs. He breathed in, the smell of your arousal only fuelling his hunger. His hands grasped your thighs tighter, spreading them further to watch your slick shine the same way your skin did.

Max gave you no warning like he usually did. He was already so far gone with his desires. He leaned his head in, tongue darting out to take one long stripe of your wet folds, grinning when your body jerked to his touch. "Taste so sweet, schatz," he praised before delving into your pussy.

You could only whimper, your hand clamped over your mouth. His fingers clamped deeper into your thighs, pulling you closer while his tongue darted into every crevice and fold. Your other hand fell to his shoulder, bracing your self and grasping at the way his defined nose knocked at your clit.

Your head fell back to the bathroom door, hips grinding up into his tongue as if it was second nature. Your eyes fluttered shut, breathing stuttering while your chest rose and fell. Fuck, it felt so good

Max could see it faintly through his peripheral. Your arousal covering the sides of your thigh, mixing with your body glitter to create a whole new unique shine that solely comprised of you. He could only grunt against your cunt, the sound reverberating through your body.

The clench of your pussy told Max everything he needed to know.

He parted from your folds, silencing your quiet whines with his wet lips, shining with glitter and arousal as he kissed you. Your hand found the buckle of his pants, quickly prodding to take them off.

Max's body lurched upon the feel of your hand on his cock. "Fucking hell," he cussed into your neck, eyes rolling slightly.

"Five minutes," you rasped in his ear, fingers grazing his tip for leaving his cock hanging from his pants, aching and twitching for more of your touch.

Max swallowed, nodding furiously. His one hand travelled to your thigh, hooking it closer to his body while the other laid flat on the bathroom door, steadying himself. His hips aligned with yours, his pulsing cock teasing your entrance, covered in your arousal.

A reverent guttural moan spilled from his lips as he pushed his hips up into you, cock welcoming the warmth of your pussy, balls flushed against you once he fully bottomed out. "Holy fuck," you barely whispered, his hips beginning to rut against you.

Your glimmering skin stuck against one another while Max brought his lips to yours, consuming all the loud moans threatening to scape with his sloppy kisses. He pushed his cock further into you, feeling his balls slap against you, making the most obscene sounds known to man echo in the bathroom.

He looked down at you, feeling his cock pulse at the fucked out expression that teetered on your face. You could barely breathe with all the air escaping your lungs as the familiar white light edged near you. Max grinned against your lips. "You going to come for me? With all those people outside? You keep warning me about Charles but I think you secretly enjoy this, schatz. You just can't get enough of me."

Your fingers on his shoulder tightened, stomach churning while your jaw fell open. "Fuck!" you gasped, any sounds from your mouth turning silent as stars covered your vision, body convulsing as the waves of your orgasm rolled over you one after another.

"That's it," Max coaxed, hips snapping faster into you. "Did so well for me. Clenching so tightly," he grunted, eyes falling to the cream ring around his cock. Christ.

"Come for me, Max," you encouraged, holding his jaw so he looked back at you. "Fill me up," you breathed, body tightening when you felt his fingers rub your clit. The pleasure was beginning to build up fast.

Max swallowed, unable to look away as he felt your orgasm vibrate around his cock as you clenched around him. A high-pitched stuttered groan fell from his lips, hips stuttering against you.

The both of you moaned as his hot white cum spilled into your walls. Your folds clamped around him, milking every last drop. Your head fell against the bathroom door with an exhausted sigh, chest heaving as he pulled out gently after a few minutes had passed.

"Thank you." You breathed out slowly, giving a small smile as Max pulled your bikini bottoms back up, not missing the way his blown pupils were stuck on the way his cum spilled out of your and onto the wet fabric.

Max cleared his throat, nodding in acknowledgement.

You shuffled down your dress, patting down the material so you looked somewhat presentable. You looked over at the mirror before turning to Max. "I'll leave first," you murmured, barely giving him a glance over as you often did so you didn't overthink. You turned to unlock the door.

Max blinked, failing to ignore the clench of his heart. You were reminding him what you were. Friends with benefits. That's all you were.

The air felt cold on your heated skin. The thrum of chatter and music filled your ears as you weaved through the small crowds of people, finding Charles and Alexandra talking to Lando.

"What I'd miss?" You queried, looping your arm through Alexandra's.

Lando kindly grinned at you. "A trip to Ibiza. If you're down," he shrugged.

Charles nodded. "Lando hired a yacht. Although we should probably ask Max to deal with it since he owns so many," he huffed, head twisting to spot the Dutch driver. "Max!" He flagged down.

Max pressed his lips, avoiding your gaze as he greeted your brother and Lando.

"Where have you been? We were just talking about some– what's that?" Charles paused, brows furrowing as he peered at Max oddly.

"What's what?" Max retorted.

Charles dipped his head, blue eyes examining the last bits of sun on Max's skin. "Is that glitter?" He asked out of sheer curiosity.

Your face fell, growing instantly hot at your brother's words. You could feel Max's body still while Charles followed the way Alexandra and Lando's eyes travelled to you and your glittering skin.

Fuck.

Charles snapped his eyes to Max, brows raised in disbelief. "Max... for the love of God, tell me you're not having..." he breathed in slowly like he was afraid to say it. "...sex with my sister."

Max took a step closer to you, covering you with his body like he was going to protect you. Why on earth would he do that?

You gave Charles a pointed look. "W-We're adults, Charles," you reminded, seemingly confirming it yourself with a shaky breath.

"Merde," Charles cursed, shaking his head. You could see Alexandra squeeze his hand gently, trying to calm and comfort him. You gave her a grateful smile, still a bit terrified of your brother.

Charles kept looking at Max, keeping his position as older brother up before being his friend. "So you're dating then?" He queried as if it was the only obvious answer.

The question felt loud. The silence even louder.

Charles would kill the both of you if he found out were just friends with benefits. But the truth was... it wasn't really like that anymore. There was something more. But neither of you had been brave enough to admit it.

That is... yet.

Max turned to you, blue eyes softening slightly. He grabbed your hand with his. His voice was low and quiet, leaving only you to hear him. "I don't really want to just be 'friends,'" he admitted with a tight scared smile.

You blinked at his admission, taking time to register his words. Finally a soft smile graced your face. You felt impossibly warm and complete. You squeezed his hand. "Neither," you whispered back.

Max tried to tone down his grin as much as he could as he turned to Charles and sucked in a sharp breath. "We're dating," he confirmed.

Lando raised a brow. "You mean as of now. You're dating as of now. How long have you been fucking?"

"Lando!" You hissed, glaring at him, unable to even look at Charles or Max.

Charles breathed in slowly, a barely sane smile on his face. He rubbed his temples gently. "I'm going to ignore that," he mumbled, gesturing to Lando before turning to your now boyfriend. "Well, welcome to the family," he sighed out, grabbing Max's shoulder. He leaned in further, the threat quiet in his ear but visible for all of you to see. "Hurt her and I swear to God you'll crash on track."

Max swallowed thickly. He gave a firm nod. "Duly noted."

"Great!" Charles chirped, leaning back with a feigned smile that only told you that you were in for it when you got home.

Oh Jesus.

You tugged Max closer to you. "I think we should enjoy what freedom we both have left for the day."

Max nodded idly. "Sounds like a good idea."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[pucksandpower]

Empires and Emperors

Toto Wolff x Cadillac team principal!Reader

Summary: the old adage says “don’t mix business with pleasure,” but Formula 1 requires pushing boundaries … both on the track and off of it

Warnings: mentions of a career-ending crash

The Bahrain sun is merciless, already scorching the tarmac at ten in the morning. Camera crews buzz like flies, microphones aimed at anyone in team gear, but the paddock doesn’t truly snap to attention until the Cadillac garage doors roll up and you step out — aviators low, Americano in hand, ponytail like a loaded weapon.

You don’t flinch when the press crush starts.

You barely blink.

Toto watches from the Mercedes garage with the faint smirk of a man who’s seen every variety of hype crash and burn. But this … this is different.

“Christ,” mutters a race engineer, watching the growing commotion. “She’s not even driving.”

Toto hums. “That’s the point.”

You stride past Sky Sports, nod at a reporter who tries to corral you into an impromptu hit. You say, “Sorry, I’m not caffeinated enough to be charming yet,” without breaking pace. They laugh. You don’t.

Your white Cadillac team shirt is immaculately crisp, tucked into tailored black trousers that mean business. Your name is embroidered over your heart like a signature. There's something terrifying about how calm you look. You pass McLaren, Ferrari, Red Bull. Eyes track you like hawks. You’re not even trying to cause a scene, you're just unapologetically here.

By the time you reach the team principals’ press conference, the seats are mostly filled. Toto’s already on stage, seated with Christian, Fred, and Andrea. You take the last chair, perfectly on time, and thank the moderator like you're doing him a favor.

“Welcome, Y/N,” the moderator says, clearly over-eager. “Exciting moment for Cadillac today. First day of testing. First American-led team since Haas. How does it feel?”

You lean into the mic, flick your gaze across the room — sizing it up.

“It feels like everyone wants to see if we crash or combust. I plan on disappointing them.”

A ripple of laughter. Christian chuckles like he’s amused, but Toto watches your fingers tap idly on the desk, left ring to index, again and again. A tic? A tell?

Fred leans forward. “A lot of buzz around your car. You think it’s ready?”

You arch a brow. “I think our car’s been ready since before you all started noticing it.”

Toto finally speaks. “Strong words for a car that hasn’t run a lap.”

You look at him. Really look. The moment hangs.

“I’ve seen plenty of cars run laps and still not show up when it counts.”

Christian makes a low, “Oof.”

Toto tilts his head, amused. “Hopefully your strategy is better than your temper.”

“My strategy,” you say sweetly, “is to keep everyone guessing. Starting with you.”

Laughter, again. Louder this time. Cameras flash.

Your phone buzzes in your lap. A text from your PR Officer.

Calm down. You’re going to give the FIA a stroke.

You ignore it.

The questions move on. Andrea is saying something about wind tunnel data. Christian’s lobbing vague insults at the cost cap. But you’re still aware of Toto. He doesn’t look at you anymore, but you can feel his attention like static.

The press conference ends. Everyone stands. There's the shuffle of paper, the awkward murmurs of media trying to corner principals before they vanish. You take your time. You’re about to walk off when-

“I take it you’re not planning to make many friends in here,” Toto says, low enough that only you hear.

You don’t smile. “I’ve got a team. That’s enough.”

He nods once. “Mm. Must be nice.”

You blink. The look in his eyes is fleeting, but something sharp lives behind it. You know it when you see it — resignation, maybe. Or regret.

“I don’t do politics,” you say. “Not anymore.”

“Then you’re in the wrong sport.”

You smirk. “I’m not here to fit in, Toto.”

He doesn’t flinch at the name. Most people don’t say it like that — like a challenge.

“Clearly,” he says, dry as sand. Then, with a glance at your lanyard, “You ever think about going back?”

The flashback hits like a punch.

A wall of flame. A split-second decision to pit. Your engineer shouting too late. The impact sharp enough to rattle your soul. The sound of carbon shattering. The way silence follows trauma like an old friend.

And after: the meetings where they called you difficult, aggressive, uncooperative. When you pushed back, you were “a liability.” Not marketable enough. Not compliant enough.

You left IndyCar with trophies and screws in your shoulder. You left knowing you’d never crawl back.

“Not even if it paid double,” you say.

He nods. “Fair.”

You pause. “You actually care?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been watching motorsport long enough to know when someone gets chewed up.”

You look at him differently, then. Not soft, not grateful. Just ... seeing him, maybe for the first time.

“You think I’ll get chewed up here?” You ask.

“No,” he says, turning. “I think you’ll bite back.”

You watch him walk off, all precise posture and tailored black. An engineer falls into step beside him, murmuring something. He answers without looking back.

“She’s going to be trouble,” Toto says. His voice is just loud enough for the words to carry.

The engineer frowns. “What, like — media trouble?”

Toto’s mouth curves. “No.” Then, quieter, with a smile that’s almost fond, “The interesting kind.”

***

The FIA meeting room smells like stale coffee, over-conditioned air, and the permanent tension of eleven egos shoved into one overlit box. There’s a bowl of untouched almonds in the center of the table. You wonder if they were here yesterday. Or last season.

You’re seated between Andrea and Christian, who are both smiling like diplomats but vibrating with the low-level condescension of men who are used to being the most interesting person in the room.

“Let’s talk about your diffuser,” Christian starts, as if the word diffuser is a veiled insult. “Interesting interpretation of the regulations.”

You don’t look at him. “Everything we’ve done is legal.”

“Legal’s not the same as sporting,” Andrea chimes in. “There’s a spirit to these things.”

“Oh, please.” You finally turn. “The spirit of the sport died the day you all decided performance was negotiable and politics were a KPI.”

That earns a few raised brows. You glance at Fred, who just shrugs like he’s too old to pretend any of this isn’t performative.

“The FIA cleared our design. If you have an issue with it, file a protest,” you add, sipping from the coffee you brought in yourself because the FIA’s is undrinkable. “Or better yet, copy it like you usually do.”

Christian lets out a short laugh, more amused than offended. “You’re not interested in playing nice, are you?”

“I’m interested in winning. I don’t know what you all are doing here.”

Andrea leans back. “You’re new. That’s fine. But you’ll learn — this isn’t just about the car. It’s about relationships.”

You glance around the room. “Funny. I thought it was about racing.”

Toto hasn’t said a word. He’s across from you, fingers interlaced, watching with the infuriating patience of someone who’s not here to win the argument, he’s here to win the war. You meet his gaze once. It’s unreadable. Then he looks away.

The meeting drones on. Brake ducts. Tire allocations. Something-something sustainability. Everyone has opinions, none of them productive. You say less as the hour drags. You’re learning the rhythm of this room — the pauses, the fake outrages, the knowing glances exchanged over your head.

At the end, as everyone rises and starts gathering notes they won’t read again, Toto approaches.

“Coffee?” He says, tone almost offhand. “Neutral ground.”

You raise a brow. “Why? You bored of watching me set fires in here?”

He doesn’t smile. “Just curious what you’re actually trying to burn down.”

You should say no. You don’t.

***

The paddock lounge is quiet when you arrive twenty minutes later. Cool-toned, clean lines, suspiciously good espresso. There’s an understated confidence in the way everything is exactly where it should be. Nothing flashy. Just efficient.

Toto’s already seated at a small table in the back, a steaming cup in front of him. No assistants. No PR. Just him, white shirt rolled at the forearms, reading something on his phone with that same unsettling stillness.

You slide into the seat across from him.

“Still neutral?” You ask.

He sets the phone down. “That depends on how you define neutral.”

“I define it as: no offers, no threats, no press leaks.”

He nods. “Then yes.”

A pause.

You take in the lounge. The screens showing pit lane footage, the muted international voices from a side room, the slow drip of espresso behind the bar. Controlled. Precise. Familiar, if you squint.

“You remind me of Penske,” you say, almost to yourself.

Toto lifts a brow. “In what way?”

“Quiet until it matters. Never without a plan. Likes to watch before you strike.”

He folds his hands. “You’ve studied me?”

You shrug. “I study everyone. Occupational hazard.”

“I’ve studied you, too.”

You lean back. “That sounds ominous.”

“I don’t mean it to be.” He pauses. “You were fast. In Indy. Efficient. Cut through the noise.”

You laugh once. “They said I was difficult. That I didn’t smile enough.”

“They say that about anyone who doesn’t need approval.”

You don’t say anything to that. Not yet.

The coffee arrives, and you both thank the lounge staff at the same time — reflexive, polite. You clock it. He does, too.

“So,” he says, resting one arm on the table. “What’s the endgame, really? Visibility? Disruption? A Netflix arc?”

You blink once, slowly. “You think I came here to be an influencer?”

“I think you came here knowing exactly how much attention your appointment would cause.”

“Of course I did,” you say. “But that’s not the end game. That’s just the noise.”

“Then what’s the signal?”

You study him. His eyes are sharp, sure. Not cruel, but relentless. There’s no wasted motion in the way he speaks, listens. You don’t hate it. You recognize it.

“The signal is innovation,” you say finally. “The car, the structure, the tech we’re developing — Cadillac didn’t join to sell more SUVs. We came because the sport needs a hard reset.”

He doesn’t flinch. “And you think you’re the one to do it.”

“No,” you say. “I know I’m the one who’s not afraid to try.”

Silence, but not heavy. Just considered.

Then he leans forward a little. “You don’t recognize tradition.”

You tilt your head. “And you don’t recognize innovation unless it’s wearing silver.”

He smiles, just barely. “That’s not true.”

“Oh? You didn’t try to bury the DAS system in regs the second someone else used it?”

“It wasn’t safe.”

“It wasn’t only yours anymore,” you say, sipping your coffee. “There’s a difference.”

He chuckles softly. “You’re not wrong.”

“Of course I’m not.”

Another pause. You watch people come and go behind the glass — engineers, interns, drivers. Nobody interrupts you. They all know better. This is what you came for. The real meetings never happen in FIA rooms. They happen like this — two people sitting across a table, pretending not to size each other up.

Toto finally speaks. “You could’ve joined any team. Taken an advisory role. Sat back. Why Cadillac? Why a full team principal position with a rookie team and a target the size of a billboard?”

You stir your coffee. “Because I’m tired of fixing other people’s broken systems. I want to build something from scratch. Something that doesn’t need politics to survive.”

“You think that’s possible here?”

You meet his gaze. “Not yet. But it will be. Eventually. Maybe not this season. Maybe not for a few. But it’s coming.”

“You’re going to get hit hard.”

You nod. “I’ve been hit harder.”

A flicker of something moves across his face — approval? Curiosity? You’re not sure.

“You were right about one thing,” you add. “I don’t care about fitting in. But I do care about impact.”

He nods slowly. “Then I suggest you learn how to play the long game.”

“Oh, I’m playing it. But not with the same pieces as you.”

He stands. Not abruptly. Not coldly. Just … finished.

You rise, too.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you say.

He inclines his head. “Thanks for not flipping the table.”

“Yet.”

That earns a real laugh, short and clean.

You pause at the door, glance back. “By the way — your wind tunnel data’s off by 0.2 percent. Rear aero.”

He raises a brow. “How do you know that?”

You wink. “I read.”

Then you’re gone.

***

Back in the Cadillac garage, your lead engineer looks up from the pit wall.

“How was your playdate?”

You throw your headset down gently. “Exactly what I expected.”

He grins. “And?”

You shake your head. “He’s testing me.”

“Did you pass?”

“No idea,” you say. “But I think he did.”

The sun is lower now, but still sharp. You can feel the paddock humming again, whispers curling around your name, your car, your meetings. You let them talk.

Toto watches from across the way as you rejoin your team.

“She’s good,” says Shov, standing beside him now.

Toto doesn’t answer immediately. He watches as you lean in to talk with a mechanic, one hand on the front wing, completely in control of the chaos you’ve created.

“She’s dangerous,” Toto says.

He doesn’t sound worried. Not even a little.

He sounds … intrigued.

***

The Melbourne circuit is a festival of chaos and sunscreen. Fans draped in American flags chant CA-DIL-LAC like they’re tailgating a college football game, not watching a brand-new F1 team fumble its way through its first real Sunday.

You knew this race would be hard. You planned for it, trained for it, told everyone — including yourself — that the only goal was to finish clean.

But watching both your drivers sink like stones after Lap 15 is a different kind of pain.

The car looks fast on Fridays. Hell, it is fast in qualifying. Top ten for both drivers. You’d been calm on the pit wall then, headset snug against your ears, fingers steady on the tablet. You even let yourself believe it might hold.

But now, with ten laps to go, you’re crouched low beside the wall, headset slung around your neck like dead weight, watching the times drop sector by sector. The Caddy’s chewing through tires like they’re made of tissue paper. The balance is off. There’s understeer in the mid-speed corners. One driver is already radioing in frustration, the other’s silent. You hate the silence more.

“Y/N?” Your lead strategist calls, voice tinny in your earpiece. “We could try offsetting the stint, pit now and pray for a safety car-”

“No,” you say.

“It could-”

“No.”

He goes quiet. Everyone always goes quiet when you use that voice. The one you used in IndyCar when you were flying at 220 mph and someone told you to back off. The one that means: I’ll take the blame, but I’m not gambling just to gamble.

You don't speak for the rest of the race.

The checkered flag drops. P13 and P15. No points. You don’t move.

Eventually, the garage begins to wind down, packing gear, muttering half-hearted debriefs. You remove your headset. Stand. Leave the garage without a word.

You walk until you’re behind the pit wall again, away from the paddock, from the PR handlers and tech directors and sponsor-friendly excuses. You crouch low, same as during the race, elbows on knees, eyes on the empty straight like it might still hold some kind of answer.

It doesn’t.

Footsteps crunch softly behind you. You don’t look up.

Toto doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking out at the track beside you like he owns the whole place. Maybe he does.

Finally, his voice cuts through the still air.

“You don’t trust your engineers.”

You exhale through your nose. Not laughter, not quite. “That’s the problem, huh?”

He nods once. “One of them.”

You stand, slowly. Turn toward him. Your face is unreadable, but your eyes … your eyes are flint.

“I don’t trust anyone yet.”

He doesn’t flinch. He just studies you. Like a problem worth solving.

You cross your arms, lean your shoulder against the pit wall. “You think I don’t want to trust them? You think I enjoy second-guessing every call from the box, every predictive model that tells me what I should do while I watch my drivers skid through corners like amateurs?”

“No,” Toto says. “I think you were trained not to.”

That silences you. Just for a moment.

Then, voice low, “I was trained to win. In a world that didn’t expect me to survive, let alone lead.”

Toto nods. “And now?”

“Now I’m trying to lead a team that still thinks leadership means shouting louder than the telemetry.”

“You hired them.”

“I hired who was willing to jump off a cliff with me. Some of them are good. Some are bluffing. And I don’t have time to wait and see which is which when every second on track costs us ten in the media.”

Toto studies your face. You hate that he can see through you. Even more than that, you hate that you don’t want to hide.

“You miss being in the car,” he says.

The admission sits heavy in your chest, like a truth you didn’t mean to bring to the surface. You don’t answer.

“You think if you were driving, you’d have made up the time.”

Now you look at him. “I know I would’ve.”

“You would’ve overdriven it,” he says. “Tried to outmuscle the problem. It’s not the same up here.”

“I know it’s not the same.” The words come out sharp, bitter. “You think I haven’t figured that out every day since I handed my race suit to a kid half my age and told him to go make headlines?”

Toto doesn’t push. He just waits. You hate that, too.

You pace a few steps, then stop. The paddock is quieter now. The race over, the noise receding. Just the hum of logistics and engines cooling down. You’re too wired to sit, too angry to leave.

“You know what it is?” You say finally. “It’s not just the car. Or the engineers. It’s that I still see everything. Every line, every brake point, every corner entry. And I see where it’s going wrong in real time, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“You can do something about it,” Toto says. “But not everything.”

You glance at him. “That sounds suspiciously like advice.”

He smirks. “Just an observation.”

“You like doing that. Observing.”

“People reveal themselves when they’re losing.”

“And what have I revealed?”

He’s quiet for a beat too long.

“That you care more than you let on.”

You scoff. “That’s not a revelation.”

Toto shrugs. “Maybe not to you.”

A long silence stretches between you. Then you ask, almost idly, “Do you remember your first real loss as a team principal?”

He nods. “Nürburgring. 2013. We lost a front wing in Turn 2. Strategy failed. P9 and DNF.”

“And what did you do after?”

“I rebuilt the strategy department from the ground up. And hired someone who knew how to say no to me.”

You nod slowly. “Smart.”

“Painful,” he corrects. “But necessary.”

You glance down at your hands. They’re steady. They weren’t earlier, mid-race. You’d clenched the tablet so hard you left marks on the casing.

“Everyone told me to hire safe,” you say. “Experienced. People who’d been in the paddock for a decade.”

“Why didn’t you?”

You meet his eyes. “Because those people helped build the system I want to break.”

Toto’s expression shifts — something between surprise and admiration.

“And yet,” he says, “you still chose to play in the system.”

“I’m not here to burn it down. I’m here to prove it can be better.”

“And if it can’t?”

You hesitate.

“Then at least I’ll go out knowing I tried.”

There’s something raw in your voice now. Not broken. Just exposed. Toto sees it. That unrelenting belief in what this could be if you just had enough time, enough patience, enough people who gave a damn. But beneath it is the fear you don’t say aloud.

The fear that they won’t follow you.

Or worse, that they will and it still won’t be enough.

“You’re not going to get many more races like this,” Toto says, voice low. “Where no one expects anything. Where you can fail quietly.”

You nod. “I know.”

“So use them.”

You glance at him, a flicker of something like gratitude in your eyes, but it’s gone in an instant.

“Thanks for the unsolicited coaching.”

He smirks. “You’re welcome.”

You both linger in the quiet a moment longer.

Then he turns to go, footsteps slow and deliberate. Just before he disappears back toward the Mercedes motorhome, he calls over his shoulder — 

“Get some sleep. You’ll need it before Jeddah.”

You don’t answer. Just stare out at the track a moment longer.

The silence feels like failure. But beneath it, if you listen closely, there’s something else.

Resolve.

Because the difference between a broken team and a building one is just time.

And you’re not done yet.

***

The invitation arrives sealed in creamy card stock, embossed with the gold FIA crest as if that somehow softens the blow. You stare at it for a full minute before tossing it onto your desk like it’s radioactive.

“Absolutely not,” you tell your assistant without looking up.

“They said attendance is strongly encouraged.”

“So is hydration. Doesn’t mean I go to Dasani’s Christmas party.”

But hours later, after three different calls, two sponsor nudges, and one not-so-subtle email from an FIA board member about “team visibility,” you find yourself pulling on a sleek navy dress and walking into a dimly lit ballroom in London filled with too much money and too little sincerity.

The lighting is designed to make executives look interesting. It fails.

Waiters drift by with expensive wine and tiny hors d’oeuvres no one knows how to eat. Conversations bloom and die in corners. You scan the room. Everyone is here. Christian, already holding court like he’s emceeing his own eulogy. Andrea, pretending not to look bored. Zak, laughing too loudly.

You steel yourself. You can do this. Smile. Shake hands. Laugh politely at someone’s joke about American engineering.

Then you see the place card at your assigned seat and feel your stomach drop.

Y/N Y/L/N … right next to Toto Wolff.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath, sliding into the chair just as he arrives, tall and too composed, dressed in black like he’s attending a private funeral for the concept of relaxation.

He sits with the grace of someone who’s done this too many times. “Evening.”

You nod. “They ran out of neutral corners?”

“I requested the seat.”

You blink. “Did you.”

“I was curious if you’d still try to escape halfway through the salad course.”

“That depends. Is the salad course edible?”

The corners of his mouth twitch, and just like that, the chill between you begins to thaw.

The dinner begins with toasts from people you don’t care about, celebrating values they don’t uphold. “Innovation.” “Excellence.” “Legacy.” You sip wine through the speeches and feel your spine calcify.

Toto leans in, voice low. “Do you think they rehearse those?”

“Oh, for sure,” you whisper. “Some poor intern had to time that speech to match the fireworks on the highlight reel.”

He chuckles softly, and you hate that it warms something in you.

By the second course, the wine is flowing freely and the table’s conversations splinter off. You swirl your glass, lean back, and eye him.

“So what made you request the seat, really? Curiosity? Strategy? Morbid fascination?”

He shrugs. “You interest me.”

“That’s vague.”

“So are you.”

You look away. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you think we’re similar.”

“We are.”

You snort. “You think you’re like me?”

“I think we both don’t sleep,” he says, without missing a beat. “I think we both control more than we show. And I think we’ve both lost something that changed the shape of everything after.”

You go still.

He doesn’t push. Just sips his wine and looks out over the room.

You let the silence linger before asking, carefully, “What did you lose?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Then, finally, “Control. In 2021. The final race.” A pause. “I thought we were prepared for every scenario. We weren’t.”

Your voice is quieter now. “How long did it take to come back from that?”

He thinks. “I’m not sure we have.”

You nod, slowly. “I remember watching it. I was halfway through rehab. Crutches, ice machine, full of pain meds. Screamed at the TV like it was a horror movie.”

His brow lifts. “Rehab?”

You glance down. This part you don’t talk about often.

“There was a crash. IndyCar. Mid-season. Rear suspension failure at speed. Hit the wall at 220. Didn’t wake up for three minutes.”

He says nothing. Doesn’t pity. Doesn’t interrupt.

You keep going.

“Broke my femur. Collapsed lung. Grade three concussion. They told me I’d walk with a limp. I told them I had a sponsor dinner in three weeks.” You smile faintly. “The sponsor was Cadillac.”

He’s watching you now with a different kind of intensity. Not evaluative. Something softer. Earnest.

“They brought me on after,” you say. “Not just as a driver, but as part of the R&D think tank. I couldn’t race, so I built. Helped design simulator feedback loops, performance modeling.” You pause. “Three months later, they offered me a job that didn’t involve a steering wheel.”

Toto is quiet for a long moment.

“And you said yes.”

“I said I’d think about it. Then my former team tried to pin the crash on me to cover the parts failure.” You laugh once, dry. “Suddenly, I didn’t feel so sentimental about staying a driver.”

He studies you. “So this wasn’t your dream.”

“No,” you say. “This was my decision.”

That lands between you like a stone in water. Heavy, slow, true.

You glance around. The dinner’s winding down. Someone’s giving a speech that no one is listening to. Laughter bubbles at another table. Glasses clink.

Toto leans in again. “Do you miss it?”

You nod. “Every day.”

“And would you go back?”

You take a breath. “If I thought it would change anything? No. I gave everything I had to a system that didn’t protect me. Now I want to build something that does.”

His gaze softens. “And you don’t trust anyone to help.”

You meet his eyes. “Would you?”

“No.”

You laugh. This time it’s real.

Something shifts in the space between you. The air feels quieter. The noise of the room fades. It’s not romantic — not yet — but it’s intimate. Honest.

You realize you’re still looking at him. And he’s still looking at you.

That’s your cue.

You stand, smooth your dress.

“Leaving already?” He asks.

“I hate long goodbyes.”

You don’t say goodbye.

You leave through the side entrance, past the press, into the cold London night. Your car’s parked by the curb, driver waiting.

You open the door, slide in, close it-

A knock on the window.

You blink. Lower it.

Toto.

“I’m walking,” he says. “But I figured I’d see you off.”

You look at him, uncertain.

“I meant what I said,” he adds.

“About what?”

“You don’t trust anyone-”

You open your mouth to argue.

“But I’d like to change that,” he finishes.

You stare at the hum for a second too long.

He doesn’t smile. Just waits.

And for once, you don’t know what to say.

The driver asks, “Shall we go, ma’am?”

You nod.

But you look back at Toto once more before the car pulls away.

And he’s still there. Still watching.

Like maybe, just maybe, you’re worth believing in.

***

The news breaks on a Tuesday. Always a Tuesday.

You’re mid-strategy call, marker pen in hand, sketching out a race-weekend plan across three whiteboards when someone clears their throat behind you.

“Y/N,” your assistant says, hesitant. “You might want to see this.”

You glance back, ready to wave it off. You hate interruptions. But then you see her expression — careful, cautious, like she’s delivering news about a death in the family.

“What is it?”

She hands you a tablet. You don’t recognize the site at first. Not motorsport. Not serious. But the headline is loud enough to punch through:

PADDOCK POWER COUPLE? F1 INSIDERS WHISPER ABOUT CADILLAC’S Y/L/N AND MERCEDES BOSS WOLFF

You scroll. The article is trash — pure speculation, stitched together with blurry photos from the FIA dinner in London and a conveniently timed sighting of you both walking near the paddock in Jeddah. But the tone drips with implication. Power imbalance. Bedroom politics. A sidebar wonders aloud if your rapid climb in F1 might have “benefitted” from “strategic alliances.”

You feel your stomach clench.

“Who leaked this?” You demand, voice cold.

“We’re still checking. But it’s … making rounds.”

The article’s already been picked up by a dozen smaller outlets. Social media’s chewing on it like raw meat. You know how fast this kind of thing spreads. Especially when you’re the only woman in the paddock running a team. Especially when the man in question happens to run Mercedes.

You head straight for the Mercedes hospitality.

Toto’s in a meeting when you arrive. You don’t wait. You walk straight in.

The room goes silent.

“Toto,” you say, curt. “Now.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Everyone out,” he says calmly.

The engineers file out quickly, eyes flicking between the two of you like they’re fleeing an earthquake.

Once the door shuts, you round on him.

“You leaked it.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Excuse me?”

“You think I wouldn’t notice the timing? The angle? It frames you like some kind of generous kingmaker and me like a fame-hungry idiot with good hair.”

“I don’t write gossip columns.”

“No, but you have people. And you like to control the story.”

He stands, slow and deliberate. He’s taller than you, but you don’t back down. Not even a millimeter.

“I don’t use people like that,” he says, voice low, tight. “Not even you.”

You blink. The sharpness of it cuts through your anger. But you don’t let it go yet.

“I’ve been here three races and already someone’s trying to rewrite my career into a tabloid plotline.”

“Yes,” he says. “Welcome to F1.”

That sets you off again. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not. I’m telling you that if I wanted to manipulate you, you wouldn’t know until you were already dancing to my music. And you’re not.”

You narrow your eyes. “Flattering. So you admit there’s a game being played.”

“There’s always a game being played.”

“And what’s yours?”

He meets your gaze, unwavering. “I don’t like what they’re saying about you. Not because of me. Because you’ve earned better.”

That stops you.

You step back, slightly. Your heartbeat’s too fast, your jaw tight. You hate how much the article got to you. How much it still matters what people think, even after everything you’ve survived.

He doesn’t press.

You leave without another word.

***

It’s nearly 9 p.m. when the truth comes out.

Your head of comms calls, voice tight.

“We traced the leak. It was your junior driver’s agent. The oldest one. He tipped off a reporter. Was trying to get him a reserve driver slot with Mercedes. Thought the buzz would make him more marketable.”

You stare at the floor of your office, fury blooming again — but now it’s cleaner, more directed. And shame colors the edges. You’d aimed at the wrong target.

“Did Mercedes bite?”

“No,” she says. “Toto shut it down personally.”

You hang up. Let the phone sit heavy in your lap.

Then you stand.

***

The paddock is quiet at night. Crews have mostly gone home. The media’s packed up. The motorhomes hum softly under security lights, like sleeping giants.

You find him in the Mercedes motorhome. Lights dim, one lamp glowing in the corner. He’s alone, reading something on his phone. A glass of wine at his elbow.

He looks up as you enter. Says nothing.

You cross the room and stop beside his table.

“You were right,” you say softly.

He tilts his head. “About which thing?”

You hesitate. “Not using people.”

He gestures to the empty seat. You sit.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a long pause. “I was angry. And humiliated. And I thought-”

“You thought I was like everyone else.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He takes a slow sip of wine, then sets the glass down.

“You said it yourself,” he murmurs. “You don’t trust anyone yet.”

You glance at him. There’s no judgment in his voice. Just fact. Like he’s holding it up, not to shame you, but to understand you better.

“Why did you shut it down?” You ask.

“Because I wouldn’t want someone like that on my team. And because … I care what they say about you. Even if you don’t care what they say about me.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault.”

A long silence stretches between you. The kind that used to feel awkward, but now feels full — weighted, not empty.

You reach for the bottle between you and pour a second glass. He slides it toward you, fingertips brushing lightly against yours.

You don’t pull away.

Another beat passes.

You take a sip. Then ask, quietly, “Do you miss when it was simple?”

He chuckles. “It was never simple.”

“When you were still just … managing people and not empires.”

Toto leans back in his chair. “The first time I sat on the pit wall, I thought, this is it. This is the dream. Then I realized the dream was mostly budgeting spreadsheets and answering questions about tire strategy on live TV.”

You smile faintly. “Still. You’ve built something.”

“So have you.”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

You look down, quiet again. The warmth of the wine lingers in your chest. So does his voice.

After a long stretch, you whisper, “Sometimes I feel like if I stop moving for one second, it’ll all fall apart.”

His voice softens. “And what if it doesn’t?”

You shake your head. “I can’t afford that kind of hope.”

A silence falls, but it’s not empty.

It’s full of everything unsaid.

You glance at his hand — resting on the table, fingers splayed. His other cradles the wine glass, but he isn’t drinking anymore. Just watching you.

He reaches out — lightly, deliberately — and his fingers brush yours. Just a whisper of contact.

You don’t pull away.

Not tonight.

There’s no kiss. No dramatic gesture. Just quiet. Contact. A kind of peace neither of you are used to.

He doesn’t say anything more.

And for once, neither do you.

***

The skies over Imola threaten rain all weekend, but never follow through. It’s worse than an actual storm — this looming, suspended tension that makes everyone twitchy, including you. Your engineers bicker over tire strategies, your drivers don’t trust the brake upgrades, and the data simulator is doing its best impression of a brick wall.

By the time Sunday arrives, you’ve slept four hours total in three nights and consumed more espresso than should legally be allowed.

But something clicks.

Maybe it’s the revised pit strategy. Maybe it’s the aggressive tire call on Lap 32. Maybe it’s just sheer, stubborn Cadillac will. Whatever it is, the car flies.

You don’t dare breathe during the final ten laps.

P3 is right there. Right in front of you.

When your lead driver crosses the line in fourth — just half a second off the podium — you swear the collective scream from your garage could level the surrounding trees.

It isn’t a trophy. But it’s proof.

Cadillac belongs.

You belong.

The moment feels … huge. Humbling. Everyone’s hugging. Someone pops a bottle of something probably not FIA-legal. Your driver tackles you in a sweaty embrace and you laugh for the first time in what feels like a month.

You stay late, long after the broadcast ends, surrounded by the people who have been pulling miracles from underfunded wings and sleepless nights. Mechanics. Data analysts. Your aero guy who hasn’t taken a full weekend off since Bahrain.

You’re still in the garage when the paddock starts emptying out. Your hair’s in a messy bun, race suit tied around your waist, black Cadillac t-shirt soaked with beer and effort.

You don’t notice Toto standing across the way, outside the Mercedes garage, arms folded, watching you.

He doesn’t interrupt. Just smiles to himself. Quiet. Almost proud.

You’re not his, he thinks. You belong to yourself.

And that’s so much better.

***

You stare at the hotel ceiling for thirty minutes before giving in.

You don’t want to be alone. Not tonight. Not with this weird ache in your chest that’s part adrenaline, part exhaustion, part something you can’t name.

You don’t even think about it. You just throw on a hoodie over your sleep shirt and walk down the hotel corridor barefoot, still slightly buzzed on the ghost of the race.

His door is ajar.

He opens it before you knock.

You blink. “Were you expecting someone?”

He leans on the doorframe, not smiling. Not serious. “Not exactly.”

You exhale. “Can I come in?”

He steps back. “Always.”

His suite is quiet. Low lighting. A decanter on the table, half-full. A few race notes open on a tablet, abandoned. He closes it as you walk in.

“Sorry. I should’ve — this was probably stupid.”

“You want to be alone but not alone,” he says, like he’s read this chapter before.

You nod. “Is that allowed?”

He tilts his head. “With me? Yes.”

You sit on the edge of the couch. He offers you a drink. You decline. He pours you water instead.

Silence stretches.

“So,” he says eventually. “P4.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I didn’t think we’d make it out of Q2 this weekend. Then the car just … worked.”

“It was aggressive,” he says. “Risky strategy.”

“I had to trust the numbers. And my gut.”

“Did it feel like being back in the car?”

You glance at him. “Exactly like that. Except worse. Because now I’m responsible for six hundred people and not just me.”

“Do you regret it?” He asks. “This life?”

You think about it.

“No,” you say. “But it’s lonelier than I thought it’d be.”

He doesn’t answer. Just sits next to you on the couch, not close enough to touch, but not far either.

You lean your head back.

“I used to think even the little wins would feel more final. Like they’d fix something. Or earn back everything I lost.”

“And now?”

“Now I think they’re just proof you survived long enough to try again.”

He nods. “That’s all this sport is. Trying again.”

You’re quiet.

And then, because it’s late and you’re exhausted and this version of the world feels gentler than the one outside, you ask, “What were you like before all this?”

He smiles faintly. “Angrier. Less patient. I thought I could control everything.”

“Bet that worked out well.”

“I crashed a GT3 car into a wall at Red Bull Ring once because I didn’t want to lose to a guy half my age. Broke three ribs. Didn’t tell anyone.”

You laugh. “Seriously?”

He nods. “Pain is a better teacher than pride.”

You watch him for a moment.

“There’s something I haven’t told anyone,” you say. “Not even my team.”

He looks at you, waiting.

“I still hear the crash sometimes. In my dreams. It’s never loud. Just … this sharp silence before everything shatters. I wake up before the impact.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just sits still.

“It’s not that I want to drive again,” you continue. “I just want to stop remembering.”

Toto’s voice is quiet. “That doesn’t go away. But it stops owning you.”

You look down at your hands.

“You know,” you say softly, “for someone so famously calculating, you’re weirdly good at this.”

“At what?”

“This. Being … human.”

He shrugs. “Takes practice.”

You don’t realize how close he’s sitting until your shoulders brush.

But he doesn’t make a move. Doesn’t touch you. Just sits with you.

You fall asleep like that. On the couch, legs tucked under you, head tilted back, listening to the sound of his quiet breathing beside you.

***

When you wake, it’s still dark.

You’re not on the couch anymore.

You’re in his bed. Still fully clothed. The covers pulled gently around you.

Toto’s on the couch now, asleep, arms folded, as if he’s been guarding something.

The ache in your chest is different this morning. Deeper.

You slide out of bed quietly. Pad over to him.

He stirs.

“You should’ve let me stay on the couch,” you whisper.

“I didn’t think you’d sleep like that.”

You hesitate.

“Thank you,” you say.

He nods. Doesn’t reach for you. Doesn’t ask for anything.

And that’s somehow what unravels you most.

Because for the first time in a long time, someone wanted nothing from you except to let you rest.

And you have no idea what to do with that kind of kindness.

So you just stand there, caught in the early morning light and everything unsaid between you.

Not lovers. Not yet.

But something real.

And quietly — terrifyingly — you realize you don’t want to lose it.

***

Toto pulls away the next weekend.

No message. No follow-up. Nothing.

He nods at you in the paddock like you’re just another team principal. His smile is neutral, professional, precise. Mercedes posts their usual press photos — clean, sterile, branded to hell. Your name doesn’t pass his lips.

And you know what this is.

He’s building a wall.

You see it in the stiff set of his shoulders at the team principals' meeting in Spain. The clipped tone he uses when you pass him in the paddock in Montreal. You say “morning.” He says “yep.”

You want to punch something. Preferably him.

But instead, you bury yourself in upgrades. Your tech director calls it obsessive. Your engineers call it inspiring. You call it survival.

The new front wing design works in the wind tunnel. You burn through simulations like caffeine, throw out half the aero plan and rebuild it from scratch. Every sleepless night, every ignored text, every time you walk past Toto and feel nothing from him fuels you like gasoline.

You tell your team: Silverstone is ours. They believe you.

It starts raining during FP2.

You grin at the sky like it’s personal.

***

You don’t speak to Toto all weekend.

Not during track walks. Not during press conferences. Not even when your drivers both qualify in the top six and the entire paddock starts whispering that Cadillac might actually do it.

And then race day comes.

And you finally snap.

He’s in the pit lane before the race, talking to someone from Pirelli. You see him out of the corner of your eye as you’re checking tire pressures with your race engineer.

You don’t even think about it.

You march across the line.

“Hey.”

He turns. Sees you. Hesitates. “Y/N.”

You’re already furious. His voice — his face — ignites something in your chest that feels suspiciously like heartbreak but tastes like gasoline.

“I get it,” you say. “You pulled back. You’re scared. Fine. But at least have the spine to say it to my face.”

He glances around. The pit lane’s crowded, noisy, full of mechanics and techs and photographers. It doesn’t matter. You’re locked in.

“I’m not scared,” he says.

You step closer. “Then what is it? You changed overnight. One minute I wake up in your hotel room, and the next you’re acting like I’m a PR liability.”

“You’re not.”

“Then stop treating me like one.”

“I’m treating you like someone who terrifies me.”

That halts you.

You blink. “What?”

Toto runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “You terrify me. Because you make me forget how much this job costs. How many knives are out. How easy it is to lose everything.”

“And?”

“And I like it. I like you. Too much.”

You stare at him.

“Then say it,” you demand.

“I just did.”

“No. Say the part where you let yourself want something. Say the part where you’re not a control freak running scared because someone finally sees you.”

“You don’t get it,” he says, voice low. “I can’t afford the distraction.”

“You think I can?” You snap. “You think I can afford to feel anything and still wake up every morning knowing the sport I bled for will never respect me the way it respects you?”

Toto’s jaw tightens.

“I see you,” you say, softer now. “Even when you hide. I still see you.”

He doesn’t answer.

Then the call comes over the loudspeaker. “Formation lap in thirty.”

You walk away first. No dramatic exit. Just one last glance.

His eyes are still on you.

***

The rain starts on Lap 23.

It’s light at first — enough to make the track glisten, not enough for inters. Half the grid hesitates. The other half spins.

Your radio explodes with chatter.

“Front’s going — too slick — should we box?”

Your lead driver’s voice is ragged with tension.

Your race engineer is mid-debate when you pull the headset off him and grab the mic yourself.

“Box now,” you say. “Full inters. Don’t argue.”

The pit crew isn’t ready. You scream at them through the rain.

“Get the tires! Now! Get the goddamn tires!”

It’s chaos. But somehow, your driver’s in and out faster than the Red Bull next to him. Two laps later, half the grid is pitting. The other half is aquaplaning off the track.

You take a deep breath.

“Tell him to defend like hell. We are not giving this away.”

***

Cadillac wins its first Grand Prix on Lap 52 of a rain-soaked Silverstone.

Your driver screams across the radio. Your garage erupts. Mechanics cry. Engineers kiss. Your comms chief sprints into your arms like a lunatic and you let her because right now you’ve done it.

You did it.

You lift the headset off, rain slicking down your arms.

The trophy is heavy and ridiculous. Champagne stings your eyes. The Star-Spangled Banner plays, and for a moment, the sound of thousands of people screaming drowns out everything else.

You scan the crowd from the podium.

Toto isn’t there.

You search for him anyway.

He’s already gone.

***

Back at the garage, they replay the race on the screens while your team takes selfies with the trophy. Someone made an edit out of your pit wall scream. You’re soaked and exhausted and still vibrating with adrenaline, but all you can think is he wasn’t even there.

Your assistant hands you a towel. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

“You sure?”

You look up at the sky. Rain’s easing now. The world smells like wet tarmac and victory.

“I’m not sure of anything,” you say. “But we won.”

She smiles. “That’s something.”

You nod.

But it’s not everything.

Not tonight.

***

It’s Friday. Spa. The garage smells like rubber and heat and stress, like it always does when qualifying’s creeping up and the sensors keep glitching. You’re elbow-deep in a conversation about tire deg curves when someone taps your shoulder.

You turn, expecting your race engineer or maybe a PR rep with bad news.

Instead, it’s Toto Wolff.

You blink.

He’s standing there in black Mercedes team kit, sunglasses hooked in his collar, eyes locked on yours like you’re the only person in the damn paddock.

You say, sharp as ever, “Lost, Wolff?”

“No.”

“You’re in enemy territory.”

“I’m aware.”

Your crew is watching from the corners of their eyes, pretending not to. Someone coughs awkwardly.

You nod toward the back. “Office.”

He follows you through the garage, past spare parts and laptops and the low hum of tension. Inside your office, you shut the door. The silence is sudden and thick.

You cross your arms. “What?”

Toto doesn’t sit. Doesn’t pace. Just stands in front of your desk like he’s about to confess to corporate espionage.

“I watched Silverstone,” he says.

You arch a brow. “Congratulations. You and seventy-five million others.”

“I watched you.”

Something in your stomach tenses.

He swallows. “I left because I was afraid. Of the distraction. Of what this could cost me. Of how easily you could undo me without even trying.”

You stay still.

He takes a step closer.

“But I’m tired of safety,” he says. “I’m tired of guarding everything I’ve built like it’s sacred when it’s already broken. You make me want to risk things I’ve spent over a decade protecting.”

You feel the breath leave your body.

“Toto,” you start.

“No,” he interrupts, voice low and serious and unmistakably yours. “Let me finish.”

You let him.

“I haven’t slept right since Imola. I think about you when I watch your pit wall react to strategy calls. I read your press conferences just to see if you mention me. I see you with your team, and I think this is what it’s supposed to look like. Not the polished machine I’ve kept running on habit and fear.”

You don’t move.

You can’t.

He steps even closer.

“And the worst part is, I don’t want to stop.”

You inhale, slow and sharp. “Then don’t.”

The kiss isn’t soft.

It’s not gentle or delicate or romantic in the storybook sense.

It’s need. Weeks of it. Months, maybe. Pinned under frustration and silence and professionalism.

His hands find your waist like they’ve been waiting to memorize it. Your fingers dig into his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll disappear again. His mouth is warm, urgent, a little desperate. Yours is no better.

You pull back once. Just enough to say, “Close the door properly.”

He does.

***

His suite smells like coffee and paper. His race notes are scattered across the desk. You don’t even get halfway to the bed before he’s kissing you again — slower this time, but no less hungry.

He doesn’t rush.

And neither do you.

Because if this is a bad decision, you’re going to make it the best bad decision either of you has ever had.

You undress him carefully. He does the same, unhurried, reverent. He touches your shoulder like it’s something holy. You run your hands down his spine like you want to remember how his body fits against yours.

The bed is large and too white, but he warms it like he’s made of fire.

The intimacy isn't in the sex itself — it’s in the way he kisses your throat afterward, in the way you curl into his chest without asking, in the way his hand finds yours under the covers like a reflex.

You fall asleep with your head on his shoulder.

He breathes evenly for the first time in months.

***

You wake to the smell of coffee.

His room is flooded with pale Belgian morning light. Your clothes are still scattered, but you don’t care. You find his white Mercedes button-up hanging over the back of a chair and shrug it on. The sleeves drown your hands. The collar smells like him — clean, expensive, slightly burned espresso.

You walk barefoot into the suite’s kitchen area.

He’s standing over a French press, eyebrows furrowed, as if he’s trying to solve an engineering problem with the water temperature.

He glances up. His expression softens the second he sees you.

“You’re stealing my shirt,” he says.

“It’s not stealing if you weren’t wearing it.”

He hands you a mug. “That’s not how shirts work.”

“It is now.”

You both sit at the table, quiet for a few beats. It’s domestic. Too domestic. You in his shirt, him sipping coffee in boxers and half-mussed hair.

You glance at him over the rim of your mug. “So. What now?”

He doesn’t pretend to misunderstand.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I’m not going to disappear again.”

You nod slowly.

“I’m still Cadillac,” you say.

“I know.”

“You’re still Mercedes.”

He nods. “Yes.”

“And this is … very stupid.”

“It’s the stupidest thing I’ve done in years.”

You grin. “Good. I hate being the only reckless one.”

He leans back, watching you. “I’m serious, Y/N. This won’t be simple.”

“I know.”

“There will be questions.”

“There always are.”

He watches you for a long moment. “You’re not scared?”

“I am,” you say honestly. “But I’ve been scared before. Didn’t stop me then either.”

He smiles.

You drink your coffee. The silence between you isn’t awkward anymore. It’s thick with possibility.

Eventually, you stand. “I should go. FP3 in a few.”

He stands too. “I’ll see you on track.”

You smirk. “Try not to stare too hard.”

“I’m not making any promises.”

You walk to the door. He follows.

Before you leave, he says, voice low, “I meant what I said. You make me want things I thought I buried.”

You kiss him one more time — just soft enough to make him curse under his breath.

“I’ll see you out there,” you say.

And then you walk back into the world, still wearing his shirt, heart beating faster than it ever did in a race car.

***

It starts with a headline.

Love in the Wolff Den: F1 Power Couple or Conflict of Interest?

Then come the blurry photos. Your hand on his chest. His fingers brushing your jaw. Grainy, flash-washed shots snapped from across a Stavelot hotel lobby that make everything look sleazier than it was.

It spreads like wildfire. Not just gossip sites, but major outlets — Sky, Motorsport, Bloomberg, for God’s sake. Everyone with a byline and an opinion suddenly thinks they understand what this is, what you are.

And then come the calls.

Not from your comms team. Not from PR.

From the board.

You’re standing in the middle of Cadillac’s race operations suite in Indiana when it comes in — your CFO, voice clipped, polite, fake. He phrases it delicately, like it’s your idea. Optics, you understand. Just a temporary step back, maybe for the rest of the season. Let things cool off. He uses the word “professionalism” three times in one sentence. You count.

“You’re asking me to sideline myself,” you say, tone dangerously calm. “Over a man.”

“It’s not that-”

“It is that.”

“There’s pressure. External. The headlines are framing it as a conflict. You’re both decision-makers. If this were a boardroom-”

“It’s not a boardroom. It’s a goddamn pit lane.”

He doesn’t argue. Which pisses you off more.

***

Toto’s phone doesn’t stop buzzing either.

He ignores it until it starts vibrating his desk.

Shaila barges in. “You need to respond.”

“I have,” he says, flipping through tire comp analysis. “I told them I wasn’t leaking strategy to my girlfriend over breakfast.”

She blinks. “You called her your girlfriend?”

He glances up. “That’s the word everyone else is using.”

“Okay,” she says carefully. “Well. The shareholders want a closed-door call. Today. They’re throwing around words like ‘governance’ and ‘interteam transparency.’”

He exhales through his nose. His jaw tightens.

“Tell them I’ll take the call after I finish reviewing the telemetry,” he says. “But if they suggest I pull back from managing the team over something that hasn’t affected a single race outcome, I’ll remind them that Ferrari and McLaren literally ran a married couple in engineering for five years.”

“Noted,” Shaila says, and walks out with the speed of someone who wants to live.

***

You don’t talk for three days.

Not because you’re angry at each other.

Because you’re both working.

Because the world is watching.

Because you’re trying — maybe futilely — to hold your ground.

You’re staring at a mockup of the new rear wing, not really seeing it, when Derek, your number two, comes into your office.

“You’re going to want to see this,” he says.

You look up. “Is it a fire?”

“Sort of.”

He turns the monitor toward you.

You squint.

It’s a live press conference. Mercedes-branded backdrop. Toto behind the mic.

Someone off-camera asks, “Toto, with recent rumors about your relationship with Cadillac’s team principal, how do you respond to those saying it presents a conflict of interest?”

He doesn’t even flinch.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that it’s interesting how quickly some people invoke ‘conflict of interest’ when a woman dares to take up space at the same table.”

Your breath catches.

“In this sport,” he continues, “we celebrate cutthroat negotiations. Aggressive contracts. Power plays. But the second a woman builds something formidable, people start calling it a threat.”

He’s calm. Surgical. But you can see the steel under his words.

“I have not compromised my team. She has not compromised hers. We are professionals. We are rivals. And if anyone believes the existence of mutual respect — or affection — between two team principals undermines the integrity of the championship, perhaps their issue isn’t with governance. It’s with equality.”

Someone tries to interrupt. He cuts them off with a single glance.

“And for the record,” he adds, “she’s done more in four months to shake this sport out of its stagnation than most of us have in ten years. I suggest we stop punishing her for succeeding.”

The clip ends.

Derek looks at you. “That was a choice.”

You stare at the screen for a long time.

Then you stand.

“Cancel my dinner with marketing,” you say. “And get me a driver to the hotel.”

***

It’s late. You don’t knock.

Toto opens the door like he’s been expecting you.

You step inside. Neither of you says anything for a beat.

He closes the door behind you. “I didn’t do it for a thank you.”

“Good,” you say. “Because you’re not getting one.”

A pause.

You look at him, all carefully unbuttoned collar and tired eyes, and say, quieter now, “But I saw it.”

“I meant it,” he says simply.

You sit down on the edge of the couch. Your hands are still curled into fists.

“You know I almost agreed to step back?” You admit. “Just for a second. I thought maybe it would make everything easier.”

“And then?”

You look up. “And then I realized I didn’t fight this hard to build something just to let them push me out the second I’m inconvenient.”

He watches you. “No. You didn’t.”

You swallow. “You didn’t have to speak up.”

“Yes,” he says, crossing to you, “I did.”

He kneels in front of you, hands resting on your knees.

“This sport chews people up,” he says. “It makes us choose between the parts of ourselves we care about most. But you … you make me remember why I cared in the first place.”

You study him. His face is open, unguarded in a way you don’t think he’s ever allowed himself to be on purpose.

You speak slowly. “We’re both trying to build empires.”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Let’s see if we can share one.”

His smile is small. Real. “God help Formula 1.”

You lean in.

This kiss is different.

It’s not born from tension or defiance. It’s something else. An alignment. A decision.

You don’t say you love him. Not yet.

But it’s there. In the way your hand rests on his cheek. In the way he kisses you like he’s found a home.

***

The next morning, a headline reads:

WOLFF AND Y/L/N: FORMULA 1’S NEW POWER COUPLE GOES PUBLIC

You sip your coffee and shrug.

Toto glances over. “You’re not going to throw your phone this time?”

You grin. “Depends. Did you leak it?”

He raises a brow. “Did you want me to leak it?”

You laugh.

And then the day begins.

Because empires don’t build themselves.

But maybe you don’t have to build them alone.

[smileysuh]

daylighter

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo & Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Nothing in your life has ever been as sexy as this moment. Two strong men, one begging and whining while the other dominates. You, caught between them both, the source of their torment and their pleasure. They’re opposites, in temperament as well as being, after all, werewolves and vampires have historically never gotten along- but they agree about you, and right now, that’s all that matters. 

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, threesome, foreplay, fingering, squirting, pussy eating, sadism, breast worship, Eiffel tower, blow job (m receiving), hand job, praise, dirty talk, degradation, power imbalances, dom!Wonwoo, Switch!Gyu, masturbation, sloppy Gyu, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.3k

🍭 aus.  Supernatural au, werewolf!Gyu, Vampire!Wonwoo, 

☀️ mlist + an. And with that, 2024 is complete :) I wanted to end it with a bang, and this pairing has been a staple on my blog for years now. Thank you to everyone who has supported me this year in any capacity, and happy holidays!

Prologue: 

“The ascension is in a year,” the crone sighs, looking out at the room of gathered witches and allies. “I think we all agree that the timing of Seungcheol’s departure is less than ideal, especially now that we’ve narrowed down an ancestral safehouse with adequate warding.”

You frown, and your vampire protector immediately reaches out to hold your hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 

As the future head of your coven, you have a protection detail, and Seungcheol has been an anchor in your life since you were eighteen. It had been a daring attempt at protecting you, after all, alphas like Seungcheol can’t just leave their packs to take on a witch princess as their ward, but Seungcheol had given up a lot to ensure your safety. 

Now, he’s returning to his pack, to his own world, and you’re not quite sure where to go from here.

“There is, however, a replacement,” the crone continues. “A beta by the name of Kim Mingyu. He is, supposedly, a prodigy. He’s the size of an alpha, with domestic attributes that make him uniquely qualified for the assignment of protecting our future leader. Seungcheol offered Mingyu up personally when he found out we would be relocating y/n to a compound. The alpha believed, and I agree with him, that, by having Mingyu on location, it would reduce the need for extra staff to deal with cooking and maintenance. By all accounts, this beta, Mingyu, and our loyal vampire protector, Wonwoo, should be able to look after y/n completely independently, which would lower the risk of demonic attack through spies.”

Wonwoo shifts beside you, and you know the stoic man well enough to understand that small movements like this are a sign of irritation.

While Wonwoo and the wolves who’ve been a part of your protection detail in the past have all had blood ties to you, the vampire has made it clear he’s never been fond of working with ‘dogs.’

But as skilled as Wonwoo is, there’s one thing he simply can’t defeat, and that’s the sun. You’re the most protected witch in the world by night, but by day, you need a different line of defence, and that’s always been the job of wolves.

There was a vampire, once, who took care of a member of your family line during the day. An ancestor of yours had done the impossible, she’d created a ‘Daylighter Potion’ that could enable vampires to walk in the sun. That forbidden knowledge had incurred the wrath of demons. Your ancestor, as well as her daywalking companion, had been lost to a bloody history, and with them, the recipe for this transformation process.

There are still hopes of recreating the Daylighter Potion, but until then, this Kim Mingyu is necessary. You can only pray he’s cut from the same cloth as your exiting alpha.   

One: 

The wards are definitely strong, something Mingyu realizes as he approaches the large compound house he’ll be protecting you in from now on. The location is also super secluded, with the nearest town over an hour away.

If you’re looking to protect someone, this is definitely the place to do it, and when Wonwoo opens the door to the large home, Mingyu realizes immediately that the stoic vampire is as formidable as Seungcheol had made him out to be.

Power oozes off the immortal being, and Mingyu, despite his size, suddenly feels quite small.

“Hi,” Mingyu says, forcing a smile and an extended hand, “I’m Mingyu.”

“You’re late,” Wonwoo responds, pushing the door open and turning to walk away, clearly expecting Mingyu to follow.

“Yeah, I uh, got turned around on the roads. My GPS shit itself.”

Wonwoo remains quiet, and Mingyu hurries to keep up with him. 

“I’ll give you a tour, then you’ll go meet y/n,” Wonwoo sighs, and thus, the exploration of the house begins.

Mingyu does his best to be quiet, to take in the information. Wonwoo seems like the type to only say something once, and Mingyu doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him.

Seungcheol had also warned Mingyu about the vampire’s general hatred for werewolves, so Mingyu knows this isn’t a friendship or working relationship that will be earned overnight.

“Can I uh, ask a few questions?” Mingyu enquires as the tour comes close to an end.

“If they’re not stupid.”

Mingyu forces a laugh, but it’s clear from the vampire’s expression that he had been serious, so the chuckle dies down quickly. “Why only two guards?”

“The location is remote enough to be quite secure, as is the warding,” Wonwoo responds smoothly. “Think of this house like the Pentagon, no outside entity has ever breached it.”

“And the demons who are after y/n, it’s because she’s set to be the next crone?”

“In part,” Wonwoo sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “She’s very powerful, and there are certain potions that only she can produce, potions that were lost.”

“What kind of potions?” Witches are known for their tonics, sure, but Mingyu’s never assumed potions to be the most interesting aspect of being a spell caster.

“Old ones,” Wonwoo states, signaling the end of the line of questioning. He begins to walk again, and Mingyu follows, biting his tongue as his mind runs a million miles an hour.

Mingyu can smell the greenhouse solarium before he’s even entered it. The scent of fresh herbs, flowers and general greenery is delightful in comparison to the mustiness of everything else in the old mansion, and Mingyu takes a deep breath as he enters the space.

It’s dark out, but the room is illuminated with fairy lights, their reflections twinkling in all of the windows. It had begun to rain just as Mingyu had pulled up with his truck, and the soft pattering of water on glass is more soothing than the wolf had expected. 

“Y/N,” Wonwoo says, drawing your attention from where you’re seated on a couch, pouring over old books. “This is Mingyu.”

You look up, and Mingyu’s immediately struck by your beauty. The final thing Seungcheol had warned him about was your looks, but his description of you hadn’t done your features justice. There’s a power in your eyes, but a softness in everything else. You’re not some old crone, not by a long shot. 

Mingyu’s alpha had told Mingyu that the vampire guarding you has somewhat of an interest in you, an interest that goes beyond that of protector. Seungcheol had figured that if you, a powerful witch, were going to favour someone, it would be better if it was a wolf than a blood sucker- but even if he hadn’t told Mingyu to get close to you, one look at your lovely smile as you stand to greet him is enough to make Mingyu want to know you better.

“How was the drive?” you ask, pushing your book to the side and stretching.

Your cardigan falls slightly off your shoulder, and God, Mingyu’s eyes take in your newly exposed skin like a man dying of hydration takes in water. He swallows the lump in his throat-

“The dog got lost,” Wonwoo responds before Mingyu gets the chance to.

You laugh. “That happens around here,” you assure him, “you’re definitely not the first.”

“It’s uh, a nice house,” Mingyu offers.

“It belonged to an ancestor,” you say smoothly, “so did these books.”

The werewolf smiles. “Looking for family recipes?” 

“Something like that.” 

Oh, so you’re potentially as secretive as Wonwoo is. What could you possibly be looking for in all these dusty old books that you don’t want to tell him about?

“You must be tired from your drive,” Wonwoo states, turning to Mingyu. “You should go to your room and rest, I’ll take care of y/n now, and when the sun rises, I’ll come get you for your first shift.”

Two: 

You wake up slowly, yawning as you stretch. Your motion knocks a book off your bed and you groan. You’d fallen asleep late in the early morning hours, pouring over books with Wonwoo beside you. Your vampire guard is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a knock on your door and a moment later, Mingyu is poking his head inside.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just dropped a book,” you respond, leaning over your bed to pick up the diary.

“What were you reading?”

“An ancestor’s journal,” you groan, still trying to shake away your morning grogginess. 

“Any hot gossip from the middle ages?” the werewolf jokes with a boyish grin.

“Nothing too interesting,” you grin. “Give me a sec to get dressed, then we’re going to go for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“In the forest, I need some mushrooms that aren’t growing in the solarium.”

With a nod, the werewolf goes back to his post outside your door. You take your time getting ready, even going so far as to brush your teeth. Werewolves have sensitive noses, and the last thing you’d want is for some hot beta to smell your morning breath.

Half an hour later, you and Mingyu are walking through the woods.

You’d written a list of various mushrooms and plants you’d need from your readings last night, and Mingyu is holding your basket as the two of you scour the trees and forest floor for potion ingredients.

You notice that Mingyu is quite twitchy. Every sound, every bird flying overhead, draws his eyes.

“We’re quite safe here, you know,” you laugh, thinking his behaviour is adorable.

“Can’t let anything happen to you,” the werewolf muses.

“You sound like Wonwoo.”

“Has he been protecting you for long?”

“Since I was eighteen,” you nod, bending down to collect some moss. 

“You two must be close.”

“We are.” Your relationship with Wonwoo isn’t something you spend a lot of time dwelling on. He’s your guard, and you’re pretty sure that’s all you are to him, a precious witch he needs to protect due to vampire blood pacts.

You care about him, sure, but Wonwoo’s never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so you’re okay with it being a one sided affection.

“Anyways,” Mingyu sighs, reading your cues and changing the subject, “what potion are you going to make?”

“There are a few I want to try, old things from the texts.”

“Anything interesting?”

“I found a perplexing potion for dog smells, not that I’m saying you smell, but I know Wonwoo always hated Seungcheol’s scent. I figured he might not look so sour whenever you’re around if you smelt better.”

To your surprise, the werewolf laughs. “So you’re making me cologne from moss and mushrooms?”

“Something like that,” you smile.

“Wonwoo was being secretive last night about the potions you make, I figured maybe there was some, I don’t know, super love spell or something crazy that you’d be creating.”

“No super love spells, I don’t believe in those,” you admit. “There are old potions in the texts on the property, things that were lost, for one reason or another. My brewing skills are a little rusty so I figured I’d start with the more mundane recipes before I try anything too extreme.”

“How extreme are we talking?” Mingyu asks. You cast him a sideways glance and he holds up a hand. “I don’t mean to pry, I just… I don’t think I’ve ever met a witch before, I don’t know much about what you guys do with those big pots and stuff.”

“Cauldrons,” you correct him, your body relaxing again. You take a deep breath. “Mingyu?”

“Yeah?”

“I can trust you, right?”

“A hundred percent,” he nods, an ernest expression on his face.

You stand up from your moss patch, moving to set some in Mingyu’s basket. “There’s a specific potion I want to make, and I think the recipe might be somewhere in the old books here.” 

“What kind of potion?”

You take another deep breath, trying to decide how to word your response. “Basically, my line has a strong tie to vampires, and we have this tie, because one of my ancestors made a potion. We call it the Daylighter potion, it enables vampires to walk in the sun.”

Mingyu’s jaw drops as he stares at you.

“Yeah, I know, it feels like fairytale, part of me isn’t sure it’s even a real recipe- but the vampires who swear to protect my family think it was real.”

“Does Wonwoo think it’s real?”

“Yes, it’s one of the reasons he’s protecting me. Could you imagine, being a vampire who could walk in the sun? He would be the most powerful vampire in the world.”

Mingyu frowns. “Is it a good idea? To make him more powerful, I mean.”

You contemplate the question for a moment. “Wonwoo has never been anything but good to me. Sure, there are repercussions for knowledge like the Daylighter potion recipe, I mean, my ancestor who created it went missing and was found dead months later-”

“Did she use it? On a vampire?”

You nod. “By all accounts, she used it on her own protector.”

“And did he… you know, did he kill her?”

You shake your head. “No, he was found dead with her. Besides, when vampires make blood ties to witches, they have a curse set on them, they can’t harm us, directly, or indirectly.”

“Sounds like a powerful curse,” Mingyu frowns. “Do uh… the werewolves that work with you have the same curse?”

“Do you need to be muzzled, Mingyu?” you grin. 

He shakes his head. “Definitely not.”

“Good.”

You continue your foraging, and Mingyu is quiet for a while before he begins asking questions again.

“So uh… do you just want to use this Daylighter potion in Wonwoo because he’s your protector, or…”

“Why are you so curious about my relationship with Wonwoo?” you counter. 

He shrugs, but it’s way too nonchalant of a motion to be believable. “No reason.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but decide to let it go. Mingyu may be eluding to things, but it’s his first day here, if he wants to speculate about your connection to Wonwoo, he can guess all he wants. He’ll see how things work around here soon enough. 

Three: 

Wonwoo is exiting his blacked out bedroom the moment the sun has set sufficiently for him to stalk around the old mansion.

He has a one track mind, and the vampire follows his senses to the dining room, where you and Mingyu are sitting to eat dinner.

It takes a moment for Wonwoo to survey the surrounding area. The smell of garlic and ginger is quite potent, and it appears that the wolf has made you some sort of ramen. “Wonwoo!” you grin excitedly, “Mingyu’s an amazing cook, I wish you could try this!”

The wolf’s heart skips a beat, and it irks Wonwoo, who simply scoffs and heads to the kitchen to grab his blood bag. He’s irritated when he’s hungry, and Wonwoo can feel himself calming down as he rejoins you in the dining room.

Wonwoo takes his seat next to you, mindful of the books strewn about. He picks one up, beginning to flip through it. “How was your day?” he asks you.

“It was good,” you respond casually. “We went for a walk, gathered some moss and mushrooms, I’ve got a potion brewing right now that I think you’re going to like.”

Wonwoo casts you a sideways glance, had you found the Daylighter recipe? 

“It’s like werewolf cologne,” Mingyu pipes up from the other side of the table. “Gonna make me not smell so bad.”

Wonwoo’s gaze shifts to Mingyu, and he feels irritation bubbling inside of himself again. Logically, it’s clear that the new wolf is trying to be friendly, and he’s taking steps to mask odor- but Wonwoo just can’t find any friendship in his heart for Mingyu.

He gets the sense that you and Mingyu have bonded today, and the way you’re eating up the ramen Mingyu made isn’t doing anything to help settle the uneasy feeling in Wonwoo’s stomach.

Seungcheol’s an alpha, and Wonwoo had respected him. Cheol had come with one goal, and one goal alone, to protect you. As an alpha, he had a whole life to go back to- but this beta, well, Wonwoo’s not too sure about how this ‘protection detail’ might pan out.

It’s clear Mingyu’s attracted to you, Wonwoo had seen it in his eyes the moment he’d met you last night. This little wolf crush is irritating, and Wonwoo hates being irritated.

Wonwoo’s gaze shifts to you. It’s unclear to him how you feel about your new day guard. You seem happy to be eating, so any emotions you have toward the werewolf will be skewed due to the joy you’re getting from the ramen.

No, Wonwoo will have to watch the two of you together closely, but, at the moment, he’s more concerned about getting Mingyu out of here so he can enjoy you himself.

“It’s about time you go to bed, wolf,” Wonwoo says.

“It’s still early,” Mingyu argues.

“Sunrise is at six fourty-five,” the vampire counters. “I’m sure you’ve had a long first day. You should rest.”

This time, Wonwoo makes sure to leave no room in his tone for objection, and with a very doglike look of defeat, Mingyu sighs.

“Okay, yeah, I can go to bed.” 

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu lifts up his bowl of ramen, and in two massive, wolfish slurps, he devours the rest of his food.

“Goodnight, y/n,” Mingyu smiles before heading to the kitchen to put away his dishes.

The werewolf lingers for a few minutes, and Wonwoo relaxes when he finally leaves, lumbering up to his second floor bedroom.

“You could have been nicer to him, you know,” you muse, lifting up a book to scan the potion recipe there.

“I could have been,” Wonwoo agrees, leaving it at that.

The two of you rifle through books as you eat your dinner, and then you head to the living room. Your nightly ritual consists of watching movies together, giving you a bit of a break before you go to read before bed.

Wonwoo knows you’ve been wearing yourself thin with all the books you’ve been flipping through. You’d spent the first three days locked in the house and thoroughly examining the library with Wonwoo before Mingyu had shown up, and Wonwoo would be surprised if you’d slept even eight hours in that three day period.

No, you need rest, even if it’s only when sitting next to him on the couch with a movie going.

You fall asleep in no time, and Wonwoo lets you be. He picks up a potions book, flipping through it while the film continues in the background.

Wonwoo won’t let anything hurt you, and he’ll lighten your load in any way he can, even if it means scanning stupid witch recipes. 

Four: 

Mingyu’s been your guard for around a week now, and things are running smoothly, however, you can tell Wonwoo’s still not happy about the situation. It’s midnight and the two of you are in the solarium, you’re getting bored of going through books, so you sigh, setting yours down.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Annoyed,” Wonwoo responds smoothly, not looking up from his book. “I swear I’ve read over fifty different love potions this week, and they’re all just as useless as the last.”

“That’s because love potions don’t work,” you sigh, moving closer to Wonwoo. “Each potion has a different flaw, so each potion is adjusted to make up for that flaw, only to be ruined in some other way. But hey, you know that’s not what I was asking you.”

“You asked how I was feeling.”

“I mean… how are you feeling about this whole Mingyu thing?” 

“I feel,” Wonwoo sighs, “like we better find this Daylighter potion soon, because that werewolf cologne isn’t working as well as we thought it would.”

“Is it just his smell you don’t like?” you ask.

“I don’t like dogs,” Wonwoo states, still not looking at you.

“I know werewolves and vampires don’t get along, but I mean, he’s a nice guy, don’t you think?”

Wonwoo stays silent, an answer in and of itself.

You  groan. “Even if we do find the Daylighter potion, even if I’m able to brew it, you can’t protect me twenty four seven. I think Mingyu is going to be with us longer than anticipated.”

“I can protect you,” Wonwoo declares, finally raising his eyes to meet your own. “When you brew the potion, and I can walk in the sun, I can protect you always.”

“Even vampires need a little rest every now and again,” you sigh. “Besides, is that really what you want? To protect some young witch until she’s an old lady?”

Wonwoo’s eyes shift downward again. “You’re not just some young witch.”

You continue staring at Wonwoo, trying your best to read him. You wonder if maybe he does care for you, if Mingyu’s seeing something you’re not. Why would Wonwoo be so protective of you if he didn’t have some sort of feeling for you? He clearly doesn’t just want the Daylighter potion so he can leave you and go be a powerful vampire elsewhere.

God, he’s so confusing at times.

You let out a breath. “I told Mingyu about the potion.”

“What?”

“The Daylighter potion, I told Mingyu.”

Wonwoo closes his book, and you can tell from his expression that he’s irritated. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Who’s he going to tell?” you retort. “Seungcheol? Even if he did, what would Cheol even do about it?”

“If the wolves ever found out there was a potion to make vampires walk in the sunlight, they’d come destroy this whole house, and they’d kill you too, just for good measure.”

“Seungcheol just spent years protecting me,” you argue. “He would never do that, and besides, Mingyu won’t tell anyone.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“I just am, call it witch’s intuition.” 

To your surprise, Wonwoo actually cracks a smile. He shakes his head, releasing a sigh. “Fine.”

“Fine,” you echo, picking up your book again to continue reading.

The two of you sit silently as you work, but your mind begins to drift.

In a way, it’s almost as if Wonwoo feels threatened by Mingyu, as if- he’s jealous. There’d never been this aura when Seungcheol was around, but then again, Seungcheol had never been a real threat, even though he was an alpha… maybe, especially because he was an alpha.

You’re attracted to both Wonwoo and Mingyu, but you’ve always pushed that attraction aside with your vampire protector, always convinced yourself he didn’t view you in that light.

Mingyu’s arrival is stirring the cauldron, and you’re not quite sure what to make of it. 

Five: 

It’s been almost a month with no issue. Mingyu’s gotten used to everything, used to the constant reading, the constant witchy little foraging adventures. He’s just gotten used to you, and maybe, in someways, Wonwoo as well. 

The werewolf is currently sitting outside your bedroom as you shower in your ensuite. The two of you had been checking wards when it had started to rain, and you’d been shivering so much when you made it back to the house that Mingyu had insisted you heat yourself up.

He does his best not to listen when you’re in the shower, not to be overtly aware- but even with two doors between you, his senses are too strong not to be honed in on everything, especially with a full moon approaching in three days.

You have a bodywash you make, and although the strong pleasant scent of eucalyptus and rosemary is predominant in the air that wafts under the doors, there’s something beneath it too, a smell that Mingyu knows all too well.

He can’t hold it against you though, he’s pretty sure you’re all a little horny from being cooped up like this- well, maybe not Wonwoo, but Mingyu’s definitely been feeling it. The bathroom is the only place you have any real privacy, and lately, Mingyu’s noted that you’ve begun to use the seclusion to your advantage. 

The running water muffles your sounds, but even the world’s best witchy bodywash can’t cover your scent, and Mingyu sits there, doing his best not to gulp it down like a starving animal.

He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, and he does his best to turn his brain off, to calm down- after all, he can’t have you exiting the shower and seeing him hard in his pants.

God, Mingyu had never even considered that horniness would be a problem in a situation like this. 

At least he gets to go to his room every night and do what needs to be done- but you, you have a guard within 10 feet of you at all times.

He wonders if you do this at night, when Wonwoo’s outside your door. And for the first time, Mingyu wonders if Wonwoo’s as tormented by the sexual nature of seclusion as he is. 

It’s not something he’ll be able to ask the vampire, as much as Wonwoo tolerates Mingyu now, that’s a line he won’t cross. 

Six: 

When Mingyu had first come to the house, he’d just finished a full moon cycle. Wonwoo had spent a couple of hours with him while you were sleeping one night, preparing a game plan for the wolf’s ‘time of the month.’

As your night protector, Wonwoo had told Mingyu to go deep into the woods on the night of the full moon. If he was far enough away, the thought was that Mingyu would just stay in the forest, leaving you to your own devices for the night.

Even if Mingyu did make it to the house in his raged-out wolf form, Wonwoo would protect you, and Mingyu had given him permission to do so.

While Mingyu can transform at any time, full moons are the only transformations that are purely animalistic. All Mingyu is, his very soul, practically disappears. Full moons are when werewolves are at their most dangerous, but Wonwoo is confident in his strategies after spending years helping Seungcheol through his dark side.

Cheol had always spent the day after full moons passed out in the woods somewhere, his body recuperating from a mind/body disconnection of that caliber. Once a month, Wonwoo would do a double shift, and you’d spend the day resting with him in blacked-out rooms. 

The two of you get through many books, and when you’re hungry, Wonwoo lets you head down to the kitchen for no more than ten minutes just to grab leftovers. 

It’s a decent set up, and Wonwoo enjoys getting to be with you for a lengthy period. However, the night after the full moon, when you go to sleep, Wonwoo leaves you to head into the forest. Mingyu, like Seungcheol had been, is not hard to find. His scent is overwhelming, and Wonwoo discovers the large man asleep in a bed of moss.

Wonwoo’s no stranger to nudity, not after dealing with Seungcheol, so he simply bends down, lifting Mingyu onto his shoulders.

‘This is just a professional courtesy,’ the vampire tells himself as he takes Mingyu back to the house, gently lowering him into the tub. 

Mingyu’s covered in dirt, and blood too- if his entire being wasn’t tainted by the scent of dog, Wonwoo might actually be tempted to go in for a bite, but the thought of drinking from Mingyu makes Wonwoo’s nose scrunch as he turns on the water.

Wolves can handle heat, and Mingyu groans a little, shifting in the tub. The bathroom begins to fill with steam and Wonwoo finds a wash cloth. He coats the fabric in body wash, and then, with a sigh, Wonwoo begins to wash Mingyu.

The wolf’s arms are especially dirty, so Wonwoo starts with those, and little by little, Mingyu begins to regain consciousness.

Then, all at once, the werewolf is thrashing awake, pulling his arm away from Wonwoo. “What-”

“Relax, you had a particularly bad change last night,” Wonwoo sighs, putting the wash cloth down.

“Were you just…” Mingyu’s confused gaze dips down to the discarded cloth, “washing me?”  

“You smell terrible,” Wonwoo states bluntly. “Seungcheol had a habit of coming home from full moons and just getting into bed. We don’t have staff here, and I refuse to have ruined sheets, or change the laundry schedule.”

There are definitely factual, logical reasons for Wonwoo taking care of Mingyu, and without those reasons, Wonwoo would never dream of bathing a dog. But… Mingyu has been a good addition to your protection detail. He’s substantially more respectful than Seungcheol had been. He’s clean, and he cooks, and the kitchen is always spotless after he makes you meals. 

While Wonwoo respected Seungcheol, the vampire, as much as he hates to admit it to himself, somewhat enjoys the young prodigy wolf.

Wonwoo doesn’t respect the clumsy, gentle giant, not by any means, but perhaps, the vampire is starting to realize, there’s more to judging someone than just by their ability and enthusiasm for violence.

Seven: 

You’re sitting in a field of flowers, and the colors are wonderous. The sun is out, and the dress you’re wearing has the perfect amount of flow to it as you lounge on your picnic blanket. 

You lean back, releasing a deep sigh, and that’s when a hand drags up your arm.

You turn to see your vampire protector and your heart leaps in your chest. “Wonwoo! The sun!”

“The sun doesn’t matter anymore,” he shakes his head. “You cured me, remember?”

“I did?”

“The potion,” Wonwoo grins, leaning forward, his lips ghosting over your throat. “You cured me of my affliction to the sun.”

Confusion is bubbling inside of you, but as Wonwoo begins to kiss your neck, the confusion dies down. Your fingers thread in his hair. “I did cure you,” you muse, giving in to the feeling of him. 

“We found the recipe in the book, at the house.”

“The house,” you murmur. 

“Which house was it again? I can’t remember.”

He doesn’t remember the house? That’s odd. Wonwoo remembers everything-

A distant voice draws your attention. It’s calling your name, and it sounds so familiar-

“Tell me where you are,” Wonwoo urges.

“We’re in a field?”

“Tell me where you are,” the vampire repeats, his hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing painfully. When you look into his eyes, they’re completely black, and your heart leaps in your chest. Horns grow out of his head, and a moment later, it’s no longer Wonwoo in front of you, it’s a demon.

“Y/N, wake up!” a booming voice tears you away, and suddenly, you’re not in the field anymore. Your eyes snap open and you sit up abruptly, heart still racing in your chest. 

You feel arms wrap around you, and you realize it’s Wonwoo, the real Wonwoo. 

“I had the strangest dream,” you breathe, still trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“It was an incubus,” Wonwoo tells you. “I could sense that he’d entered your mind.”

“He was trying to find out where we are, to see if I’d made the Daylighter potion yet,” you whisper.

“Did you tell him anything?” Your vampire protector freezes next to you.

“No.” You shake your head. “I didn’t say anything.”

You hear someone release a breath, and you look up to find a frazzled Mingyu standing there. His hair is messy from sleep, and he’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of boxers. “What the fuck is an incubus?”

“Incubi are above your pay grade,” Wonwoo states simply, holding you closer. “Demons don’t generally get involved with lower levels like us, but the Daylighter potion would disrupt their system.”

“Right,” Mingyu nods, but you can tell he doesn’t fully understand. “Anyways, are we good? You’re good?” He approaches you, holding out a hand.

You grab his extended palm, squeezing gently. “I’m okay.”

As your heart stops racing, your body begins to focus on a different feeling.

It had been an incubus in your dream, and incubi feed off of one thing: sexual energy.

You suddenly feel very hot, in bed, between Mingyu and Wonwoo- God, you’d woken up from a nightmare only to find yourself in your best daydream.

Wonwoo stiffens beside you, and Mingyu’s grip on your hand tightens, his pupils visibly blowing in size. 

Can they… sense that you’re horny?

Fuck… can they smell it with their God damned super senses?

You suddenly feel like a bunny caught between two predators, but for some reason, you’re not actually scared. Both men have the capacity for violence, but you know, in your heart of hearts, that they would never, ever hurt you. 

“We should let her sleep,” Wonwoo says, voice low.

He begins to pull away but you cling tighter to him, your grip increasing on Mingyu’s hand too.

“No,” you breathe, swallowing thickly to get rid of the lump in your throat. “I uh… Don’t go.”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo warns, “This could end badly.”

“At this point, I don’t care,” you admit. The vampire looks at you for a few seconds, and you can tell he’s trying to get a read on your emotions. You cup his cheek with your free hand. “This is long overdue.”

Wonwoo stares at you, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull away, but then, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours for the very first time. He’s kissing you softly, showing a gentleness that you hadn’t quite expected.

You release a groan immediately, shifting closer-

Mingyu tugs in your hand. “I’ll just leave.”

You break your kiss with Wonwoo, turning to look at the wolf in the room. “Don’t go,” you whimper. “I want both of you.” 

You catch Mingyu’s gaze shifting to Wonwoo uncertainly, and you feel the vampire tense at your side.

“Both of us?” Wonwoo asks, voice shockingly level considering what you’d just suggested.

“Both,” you repeat, nodding. “I just- I don’t know, you’re both my protectors. I feel like, if I only slept with one of you, it would throw off the dynamic.”

“So you want us both… for the dynamic?” Wonwoo clarifies.

“That sounds horrible,” you groan. “I’m still sleepy- look, I’m attracted to both of you, I care about you both in different ways. Please don’t make me choose.”

You watch Mingyu and Wonwoo exchange a look again, but this time Wonwoo sighs and Mingyu shrugs.

“I won’t step on your toes,” Mingyu promises, addressing the vampire.

Wonwoo releases another exasperated breath. “If anyone knew I was agreeing to share a bed with a dog-”

“He’s a werewolf, don’t be rude,” you chastize, nudging Wonwoo in the ribs.

“Dude, you’ve already seen me naked,” Mingyu points out, and your heart nearly lurches out of your chest.

“What?”

“He carried me in the other night, after the full moon. I woke up in the bath and he was practically grooming me.”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo in shock and he downplays it with a shrug. “I told you, I don’t like dirt on the sheets.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure we’re about to make a mess of this bedding,” Mingyu says, voice lowering as he steps closer. 

“I don’t care,” you breathe. “Enough talk.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” Mingyu grins, leaning down and grabbing your jaw. He brings his lips to yours and you immediately groan, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He’s so warm and big, there’s a muskiness to his scent, but it doesn’t remind you of dog. It reminds you of the forest, of sanctuary, and it makes you lean in even more as Mingyu kisses your breath away.

Wonwoo shifts beside you, his hands fanning up and down your arms, then, you feel a second set of lips on your shoulder.

Your sleeping shirt has shifted down a little, allowing Wonwoo to have full access to your skin. Each cold kiss is a contrast to Mingyu’s warmth, and it makes you shiver between your two large protectors.

It seems Wonwoo’s the one with less patience out of the two men, which is something you’re not expecting as he grabs the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it off your body.

You’d not been wearing a bra to bed, and your nipples pebble at the cool air of the room when they’re newly exposed. You groan when two hands grab your breasts, one hot, one cold. It seems both men have a thing for tits, and you can’t say you’re mad about it as they begin to massage you, drawing even more sounds of pleasure from your lips.

It’s Wonwoo who pinches your nipple first and you gasp against Mingyu’s mouth, breaking the kiss to turn and look at Wonwoo over your shoulder. He kisses you deeply, his free hand grabbing the back of your head to draw you close.

You get so lost in Wonwoo that you don’t realize Mingyu has adjusted until wet, hot lips wrap around one of your nipples.

You whimper loudly, pulling away from Wonwoo to look down at Mingyu. His eyes are closed and he groans as he begins to suck diligently on your sensitive bud, his tongue lapping at you in a way you’ve never quite experienced. 

“Shit,” you moan, threading your fingers through Mingyu’s hair.

“I’m getting tired of his smell,” Wonwoo sighs beside you. “I know a way to cover it up.”

Mingyu pulls off your nipple, confusion written on his face.

“You both trust me, right?” the vampire asks, looking between you and the wolf.

“Yes?” you offer, not sure what else to say.

“Y/N, lay on the edge of the bed, Mingyu you’re on the ground below,” Wonwoo instructs.

You exchange a glance with Mingyu, but he shrugs, following through. Wonwoo helps you to the edge of the bed, adjusting so he’s behind you, your smaller body between his legs, ensnared.

“Take her shorts off,” Wonwoo instructs, and Mingyu’s even quicker to follow through with that command than the first.

You release a shuddery breath as your silky shorts are dragged down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to the two men.

Wonwoo’s hand wraps around your body, his fingers seeking out your clit.

You groan as he begins to stroke the sensitive bud, his lips tracing kisses along your throat. “Be good for us,” Wonwoo warns, his digits easily pushing into your wet core.

You whimper, shifting in his embrace. Wonwoo’s free hand braces across your chest, grabbing your breast and pinching at your nipple.

A quiver shakes through your thighs, and when you look down at Mingyu, you find him watching each movement with extreme interest.

Two of Wonwoo’s fingers begin to work open your pussy, and he begins to crook them up toward your gspot, making your legs shake even more.

“Have you ever squirted before?” Wonwoo asks, breath hot along your ear.

It feels so odd to be hearing him speak to you in this context, but at the same time, it feels so right. 

“I’ve never-” you shake your head, swallowing thickly as your words get caught in your throat.

“Good, then we’ll be your first,” Wonwoo smirks against your neck. “You’ll feel pressure, don’t try to fight it, just let your body do what it’s going to do, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod. 

Wonwoo presses one more kiss to your shoulder before his hand begins to move again. He expertly thrusts his fingers up to that special spot, and within seconds you can hear the wetness of your pussy with each movement. 

Mingyu gets closer, and he’s on his knees now. He’s looking between your pussy, your breasts and your face, as if he can’t quite decide what to focus on.

“Gonna squirt on your wolf, make him smell like you, mark him the way wolves usually mark their mates,” Wonwoo tells you, his voice low in your ear.

You whimper at his words, skin beginning to tingle as pleasure unlike anything else builds in the pit of your stomach. 

“Rub your clit for me,” Wonwoo commands next. “I think you’re just about ready for it.”

Your hand is shaking as you bring it between your thighs, gently drawing circles on your sensitive bud as Wonwoo continues to work your pussy, his motions getting even faster, and harder-

You groan desperately, throwing your head back against Wonwoo’s shoulder as a powerful release overtakes you. It’s like a pressure on your abdomen, but it’s so delightful at the same time, your body overwhelmed by it all.

You can’t open your eyes, can’t do anything but rub your clit as Wonwoo makes you feel something you’ve never felt.

You’re aware of a wetness between your thighs, but you can’t bring yourself to care as Wonwoo continues to work the pleasure out of you.

Finally, he’s tearing his fingers out of you, only to land a gentle smack to your pussy that has you yelping and shaking.

The moment his hand is gone, it’s replaced with a mouth, and your entire body jolts, eyes snapping open to see Mingyu between your thighs. He grabs at you, keeping you steady as his tongue pushes into your tight pussy, lapping at the walls that Wonwoo had just ravaged with his fingers.

The werewolf sucks your clit into his mouth and your body shakes, chest heaving-

Squirting hadn’t felt like an orgasm per se, it had been an entirely unique experience. It was pleasurable, and amazing, but the build up hadn’t been like that of a vibrator or the like- but what Mingyu’s doing to you is familiar. You can feel the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach as he ravages your pussy.

You love how messy he’s being, how sloppy- his tongue is everywhere, in the best possible way.

“Gyu-” you whimper, reaching one hand down to tangle in his hair. You don’t want him to move, don’t want him to go anywhere- your muscles are already tensing in anticipation of the orgasm he’s going to give you, and you’ll be damned if you miss out on it.

“He feels good?” Wonwoo asks in your ear. 

“So good.”

“I’ll give it to the wolf, he knows how to eat.”

There’s something about the deepness of Wonwoo’s voice, the sinful context of what he’s saying- it’s the last straw you need to fall over the edge. Your muscles tense incredibly tight before snapping, pleasure flowing through you like a river.

“Fuck!” you whimper, beginning to thrash- only for both men to hold you down. It’s clear they’re not going to let you run away from the feeling, and they keep you where they want you while Mingyu eats you through your high.

Your entire body is on fire with the pleasure, and you can feel it in every fiber of your being. It’s all consuming, in the best way.

You’re crying by the time Mingyu releases you, pulling away from your pussy. He stares up at you with dark eyes, and when he stands, you notice your squirt dripping down his chest. He’s covered in you, in your scent, and you realize why Wonwoo had wanted foreplay to be like this. Now, all either of them will smell is you, and you think they prefer it this way.

“How are we going to do this?” Mingyu asks, voice gruff, his cock straining against his boxers.

“We’ll take turns,” Wonwoo says factually, beginning to massage your breasts again. “As much as I think we’d all enjoy double penetration, I don’t want to break her. That’s something we’ll have to work up to.”

Mingyu nods. “Turns.”

“I’ll go first,” Wonwoo sighs, kissing your throat. “I’m not as into a mess as you are.”

Mingyu groans, but he doesn’t fight it.

“Because you’re both being good,” the vampire continues, “y/n, you can straddle Mingyu and I’ll fuck you from behind while you both toy with each other.”

“Please be fast,” Mingyu begs, “I don’t know how much I can hold off.”

“You’ll have to,” Wonwoo counters. “Only good dogs get treats.”

An expression blooms across the werewolf features, it’s a mix of lust, annoyance and confusion. You can tell he’s turned on by what Wonwoo just said, but there’s a lack of connection between the feeling, and the logistics that are probably running through Mingyu’s mind.

Unlocking new kinks is always confusing, but that’s not something you dwell on as you becon Mingyu to get onto the bed.

He lays down and you’re quick to grab his boxers, dragging them down in record speed.

Fuck, Mingyu’s huge- it makes you drool. “I want to suck him off,” you whimper.

Mingyu groans deeply. “Fuck.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Wonwoo coos as you get into position, on your knees, looking down at Mingyu’s massive cock. 

You grab the base, pumping it gently and looking up at Mingyu, who shifts desperately against the sheets.

He grabs the blanket, and you can tell he’s already close- you kind of love having this power over him. If the act of eating you out is enough to make him close to exploding- well, you wonder what sucking him off will do.

Two hands smooth across your ass, and then you feel Wonwoo’s cock swiping between your pussy lips. 

“Fuck,” Mingyu groans, threading his fingers through your hair. “Can you… can you put it in your mouth?”

“You better not cum down her throat without asking permission first,” Wonwoo warns.

“I won’t, fuck, I won’t,” Mingyu whimpers, guiding you gently to his cock.

You lick at the head of it first, getting a better gauge for his size.

Mingyu shakes beneath you, hips twitching. You can sense he’s at war with himself, part of him clearly wants to apply pressure to your head and force you to take him, but another part is trying to be respectful of you. You wonder if this clash between animalistic and human sides is a result of the recent full moon-

Wonwoo’s cock slips into your wet core and you groan deeply, sinking more of your mouth onto Mingyu, who echoes your sound of pleasure.

You begin to suck on the werewolf’s tip as Wonwoo starts to slowly thrust into you, giving you more and more of his cock until he’s flush to your ass.

“That’s it,” Wonwoo groans, grabbing your hips. “Taking us both so good.”

The praise makes your entire body vibrate with energy, and you moan around Mingyu’s cock, sucking him deeper into your mouth until he’s practically hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck, fuck-” Mingyu is straining now and you can feel it.

“Almost looks like boytoy is going to pop before he even gets a chance at your pussy,” Wonwoo chuckles.

“No!” Mingyu blurts, “I’ll be good, just, fuck, hurry up!”

Wonwoo might not be the nicest in bed, but you are, and you pull off Mingyu’s cock, stroking it. “Take some breaths,” you tell him, resting your cheek against his thigh.

Mingyu begins to take audible gasps as he focuses on slowing himself down. You stroke him languidly, taking your time as Wonwoo’s pace increases behind you.

“You’re too nice to him,” Wonwoo groans, gripping your hips harder as he rails into you.

“Fuck, one of us has to be,” you whimper, closing your eyes so you can focus on the pleasure that’s beginning to surge through you.

“This isn’t good cop bad cop,” Wonwoo points out.

“True, but I’m also not a sadistic dom like you are,” you fire back with a moan.

You hear Wonwoo chuckle. “I guess that’s true.”

He adjusts slightly, and now, each thrust has him hitting a spot deep inside of you. “Kind of want you to cum again,” Wonwoo admits. “Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t-”

“Three times isn’t that bad,” Wonwoo points out. “Besides, Mingyu’s going to pop the moment he’s inside of you, so it’s not like he’ll make you cum.”

That’s a very good point, you realize, and you slip your hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit.

Your pussy clenches tight around Wonwoo from the stimulus and you both groan. 

“That’s it,” Wonwoo breathes. “Squeezing me so well.”

Mingyu groans above you, Wonwoo’s dirty talk doing as much to turn him on as you.

“Rub harder,” Wonwoo commands, and you do as you’re told, whimpering from how good it feels. “Mingyu, tell her how good she is, the sooner she cums, the sooner you cum.”

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good!” Mingyu blurts out immediately. “Your mouth, your hand- fuck, I can’t imagine how your pussy is going to feel, oh my god-”

His hand flexes in the bed sheets and Wonwoo chuckles.

“Cum for us, please, I need to feel you,” Mingyu begs desperately. 

Your core is throbbing from his words, throbbing from how well Wonwoo is fucking you.

“She’s close,” the vampire muses. “Her perfect pussy is just sucking me right back in.”

Mingyu lets out a strangled sound, and the noise is enough to throw you over the edge.

Nothing in your life has ever been as sexy as this moment. Two strong men, one begging and whining while the other dominates. You, caught between them both, the source of their torment and their pleasure. They’re opposites, in temperament as well as being, after all, werewolves and vampires have historically never gotten along- but they agree about you, and right now, that’s all that matters. 

Your core clamps down on Wonwoo’s cock, squeezing him desperately as your orgasm overcomes you.

Your hand motion on Mingyu’s cock stops, body too overcome by the feeling of cumming to pay attention to anything else.

Moans and whimpers escape you, your eyes clenched shut as waves of pleasure surge through your body. Wonwoo fucks you through it, and then he releases a small gasp, his thrusts coming to a stop. You can feel his cum filling you up as he gives three more shallow efforts of movement.

You’re both breathing hard, and before you can even fully recuperate, Mingyu’s tugging at you. “My turn,” he says desperately.

Wonwoo laughs, and you can only whimper as one cock pulls out of you. Mingyu is quick to drag you up his body, and then, his own length is entering your core, stretching out your pussy unlike anything you’ve ever felt.

You moan desperately, burying your face against Mingyu’s throat. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as he begins to fuck up into you. “Fuck, so good, shit-”

He’s definitely not going to last long, so you do your best to focus on how good he feels. You can’t even bring yourself to care that his chest is sticky and covered in your squirt, in fact, the sinful aspect kind of turns you on even more.

Your core is still throbbing from your orgasm with Wonwoo, and each time your pussy contracts around the new, large intrusion, Mingyu gasps. His breath is hot against your throat, arms strong around your body as he holds you, fucking up into you like a wild man.

“Shit, shit, shit-”

“Cum for me,” you tell him, nuzzling against his jaw. “You’ve been a good boy, let go.”

Mingyu releases a strangled sound, and then he’s squeezing you tight, filling your pussy completely as he cums deep inside of you.

It feels good in his embrace. You’re not being crushed, instead, it feels like a protective weighted blanket, and he’s so warm too- God, you could fall asleep right like this, right now, his massive cock still buried to the hilt in your wet, throbbing pussy.

Mingyu’s heart is racing in his chest, and you’re both breathing heavily, but slowly he releases you.

“Take her to the shower, I’ll clean this all up,” Wonwoo’s voice draws you out of your daze.

“Can’t we just sleep?” Mingyu groans.

“You werewolves and the most unclean people I’ve ever met,” Wonwoo snaps, and you feel Mingyu sink beneath you, dejected.

“Come on, Gyu, a shower would be nice,” you encourage him, pressing kisses against his throat.

“Okay,” Mingyu sighs.

He stands a moment later, cradling you in his arms as he takes you to the bathroom. The two of you begin to wash each other, careful of all the cum. He’s so soft with you, so gentle, and you’ve never been this relaxed.

When you’re both clean, you go back to your room, collapsing onto your bed. Wonwoo sits on one side of you, Mingyu on the other. The werewolf tugs you to his chest, being your big spoon while your hand is in Wonwoo’s lap.

“Sleep with us,” you urge him.

“I can’t, but you two should get some rest,” Wonwoo sighs.

You’re so exhausted you can’t even find it within yourself to argue, and moments later, you’re falling asleep, basking in the warmth of the man behind you, and the comfort of your vampire protector watching guard. 

Eight: 

Wonwoo’s thoughts are turbulent as you and Mingyu sleep next to him. The sex had been amazing, and shockingly enough, Wonwoo hadn’t quite minded having the werewolf there. It’s clear that Mingyu is good for you, and at the end of the day, your wellbeing trumps Wonwoo’s own possessive tendencies.

He’s not one to dwell on things, so Wonwoo reaches for the ancestral diary on your bedside table. It’s not a recipe or spell book, so you’ve not spent a lot of time going through it, but Wonwoo just need something to distract himself. 

It’s only hours later when Wonwoo comes across a specific passage that makes him stop. It’s the first mention of the Daylighter potion he’s seen anywhere, and he continues to read, eager for the recipe.

‘The potion was supposed to cure sun affliction, and it did, but the concoction did more than that. It cured the vampirism as a whole. My protector, my guardian, now but a man. Powerless as a babe, but as fierce as he’s ever been. No other vampire would want this, so I’ve torn out the page with the ingredients. This potion, perhaps, is best left in history. No one should have the power to cure vampirism, least of all the witches. This could shift the tides in a war that’s been lasting centuries. The witches should not have this power, nor should the wolves or the demons. No one should have this power. The Daylighter potion was a success, but it was also the worst thing I’ve ever created. May the Goddess forgive me for this abuse of power.’

Wonwoo rereads the passage five times before he puts the book aside, trying to steady himself.

This whole time- they’d assumed the potion would cure a vampire’s weakness to sun. No one ever considered that the Daylighter potion might cure vampirism all together.

Wonwoo had wanted the potion so he could protect you day or night, but how could he protect you if he was a mortal?

If he was a mortal… if he was like you and Mingyu, could he grow old with you?

But… what use would growing old with you be if he could never keep you safe?

Wonwoo’s overcome with emotion as he stares down at you and Mingyu.

This was never an outcome he’d expected, and he’s not sure how you’ll react. 

The vampire decides not to tell you about this information. He decides to simply be there for you as long as you want him. He decides to let you sleep, unburdened by the discovery he’s just made. And finally, Wonwoo decides that you are more important than him being a Daylighter. He’ll choose the eternal night with you over the sunshine, and it’s his own choice to make.

Wonwoo doesn’t know who he is if he’s not your protector, so he decides that’s exactly what he’ll continue to be.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love working on fics that center on these two, and It was so fun to write their dynamic :) Thanks again for supporting me this year, and I can't wait to see you guys in 2025!

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. You’ve learned new spells and potions, but your education in a more sexual nature has grown too. Being with two men has its own learning curve, and you’ve been a more than willing student.

cw/ tw.  Unprotected sex, double penetration, anal, oral, pussy eating, spanking, praise, dirty talk, degradation, mentions of porn, threesome, pussy stretching, breast worship, overstim, multiple reader orgasms, etc…  

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 120

🌙 starring. Wonwoo & Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been four months of living in a house full of books, but it’s been two months since Wonwoo revealed to you the truth about the Daylighter potion. 

It has been hard to accept at first, and many night had been spent discussing it with Wonwoo. Your vampire protector has stood firm on his opinions, and you’ve had to accept the fact that he wants to continue to be immortal, not only for you, but for himself.

Wonwoo isn’t the oldest vampire ever, but he’s by no means the youngest either. You can’t really imagine him going back to a human form, to lose his strength and speed- no, he’ll continue to be a vampire, and the Daylighter potion has been pushed aside, no longer a priority.

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[digiflora]

🌐 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 '𝐍 𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘!

hsr men x f!reader .... SMUT!! 🚨🚨🚨

request ؛ ଓ @coreakin-sakarat What will the honkai star rail men play when yr having sex and who bottom or both and do they go rithm oh oh and do they use toys on u and what are their favorite parts of ur body to fuck

gia's notes ؛ ଓ i did this as more of me just... talkin abt what i think the hsr men are like in bed in order from least to most freaky in my humble opinion. i hope that you like it even though i didn't exactly hit every point u brought up :(

DAN HENG .ᐟ୨୧ starting it off sweet with him, i see dan heng as more of a bottom than anything... he's not super experienced, quite a tender lover, and i see him as remaining quite serious and stoic within the bedroom too. definitely more of a slow and sensual pace, just wants to feel it all with you <3 he's quite hesitant to try things out imo, but i reckon that you could convince him to try out using toys with some convincing! 1000% a thigh guy, really likes pulling out and painting your thighs with his cum as he watches them shake. presses kisses to your forehead as you come down from both of your highs. lowkey i get the vibe that the aftercare and the cuddling and falling asleep together is more satisfying to him than having sex. THIS MAN CRAVES SKIN TO SKIN!!!! he will interlace your fingers while fucking and kiss all over your face!!! a very sweet lover <3

GEPARD .ᐟ୨୧ this man SCREAMS pleasure service top to me. he could cum in his pants just by watching you i swear. he just wants to satisfy you as best as he can :((( your wish is his command frfr. he'll put you in whatever positions you want fully customisable experience just say the word. will sometimes pause midway through sex just to ask you if he's doing a good job and if it feels good with his big puppy dog eyes AWEE. i think he would probably be a little hesitant to try out toys, especially at first? his logic reverts to him assuming that he wasn't good enough at pleasuring you and so you have to revert to a piece of plastic... but be a bit dominant and show, don't tell, him just how good a vibrator can feel and he'll be a lot more on board with the idea <3 his whole mentality is just.. do anything to give you pleasure so if you're on the freakier side, this man is game! (PEG HIM) the little sadistic side of you gets a kick seeing tears well up in his eyes if you edge him just to hear his whines and moans... he might be a top but this man is a sub thru and thru. a bad bitch (you) tells him what to do and he listens!! anyways back to when you and him are fucking... this man is just utterly in love with your pussy, they way it gushes and clenches around him, and his absolute favourite position is any where he gets to just bury his face in ur tits while he's buried inside of you because everything is just so comforting and all of him is now surrounded by something so warm and soft... he's in heaven <3 so yeah he's a tits guy who would have thought!! no matter the shape or size HE'S PUTTING THEM IN HIS MOUTH <3 his thrusts get real sloppy at the end when he's about to cum too, starts babbling in your ear about how good it feels and how much he loves u. what a cutie pie

ARGENTI .ᐟ୨୧ to be honest? i had to think a bit about this one. to me, argenti doesn't really seem like the type to bring up using toys... but that doesn't mean that he isn't game if you mention it. he seems ... not passive exactly? but he just seems like the type to go with the flow with sex. whatever you're into he'll just be like shit i'm down let's go. not kinky per se, but he's definitely a passionate lover. very much wants to explore sensuality. ooh maybe he would be into some sort of wax play or blindfold type behaviour i take it back. would probably chuckle if you decide to get on top and place his hands on your hips to help you adjust to his size and set your own pace <3 very loving, wants to celebrate the beauty of your naked body and worship it in the name of adrila. so yeah if you've got a praise kink, HE'S YOUR MAN!!! you feel like the subject of a poem as he sings your praises, telling you how pretty you look and sound when you cum. like shiiiii that would be enough to make me blush <33 in terms of pace and stuff, i feel like he would be pretty standard? maybe on the slower side because of... you know... passion. it's nothing crazy but still a good time. he seems like he prefers to be looking up at you so RIDE THAT MAN!! maintain eye contact as you sink down on it. raise your hips back up ever so slowly and watch the slightest twitch of his brow as you swivel your hips, sinking back down on it ever so slowly. you might just see him blush. and just as the name suggests, the knight of beauty is a SIGHT to behold when he cums (probably inside).

WELT .ᐟ୨୧ yeah peepaw has got some EXPERIENCE to him lmaoo. he's got a sort of... cheekier? side to him. as an older man, though, he doesn't exactly have the same stamina as he did in his youth :( but that doesn't mean that he can't still get down and dirty with you!! quite the opposite actually. so his solution? he uses toys on you <3 he's more of a bottom but he is DEFINITELY in charge. his dirty talk OMFGG im giggling just thinking about it he would praise you and whisper such sweet words to you as he slowly splits you open on his fat cock, telling you how you're such a good girl for taking him so well, how you feel so good around him, all so he can feel you clench around him like a vice grip as he finally bottoms out <33 def would just have his hands around your waist as he moves you up and down his length when you're feeling weightless. but if he's in a more passive mood, he also LOVESSSS just sitting back and watching you struggle to ride him with a lazy adoring look in his eyes as he holds a vibrator to your clit <333 he'll coo at you as you start crying from the overstimulation, his hands wiping away your tears so tenderly and encouraging you to keep going just for him <3 a little bit of a sadistic side to him because he really does just love watching you squirm. another thigh and ass guy imo, really loves the way they jiggle as they slam down against his own thighs as you start to pick up the pace and ride him with increasing desperation. also loves watching them shake when you cum <3. so yeah as a no brainer i think one of his favourite positions would be reverse cowgirl. yum <3

BOOTHILL .ᐟ୨୧ now dont get me wrong this man FUCKS. since he's a cyborg does his dick count as a toy...? yeah fuck it let's go with it HIS BIOCOCK VIBRATES!! so the sensations on that will go CRAZYYYY. and then i'm thinking because of his synthesia beacon and stuff he doesn't exactly experience much sensation down there. so when you're having sex, what gets him off the most is just seeing your pleasure as you unravel. makes him feel good vicariously <3 so yeah definitely a missionary lover in my eyes so he can watch all your facial expressions and reactions as he hits all the right places, how your brows furrow and your eyes slide shut and eyes roll back in your head as he keeps up his unforgiving pace at juuuuust the right angle <33 but don't get me wrong he's no vanilla bitch either!! if he wants to be feeling more ... sensations he can and will make you just sit on his face for actual HOURS just eating you out to his heart's content. you'd think that his tongue is cybernetic too with the way it flicks across your clit at a borderline INHUMAN speed. but no he's just that good. some of ur most intense orgasms have been from him tonguefucking you like this, his head firmly sandwiched between your quivering thighs as you're basically humping his face as u ride out your high. and hey, he's not complaining <3 and then his smug shit-eating grin does NOT help at all when you're still trying to come back down to earth and he's sitting up wiping the slick off his face with that hungry look STILL in his eyes good lord i hope u can survive the night. this bastard has definitely ruined toys for you, they just don't feel the same any more <//3

BLADE .ᐟ୨୧ fucks hard. angry and/or jealous sex with him has just gotta be >>> 😮‍💨😮‍💨 he's on the rougher side and for MOST of the time will dom. and also tbh i don't really see him as being the type to use toys since he's more spontaneous in terms of having sex (public sex. he's got a high sex drive) but very very passionate for sure- lots of grunts and low moans right up in ur ear mhhhnrng. but also at the same time i feel like he would be quite emotionally detached from sex at first, seeing it as more like stress relief than an act of intimacy? and don't get me wrong, some of the best fucks of your life have come from him when he's just trying to release some pent up anger, but on the flip side there's a more vulnerable side to him, almost. one that's barely there any more from years of bitterness and resentment, but still manages to creep up on him on those late nights where he can't quite sleep. so if you're with him on those rare occasions, this is when you experience him not fucking you, but making LOVE. he won't talk, but he doesn't need to, not with the way he's holding you close to him and kissing you with something akin to desperation as he sinks into you and kind of just... stays there for a bit. it's oddly comforting to him, and if he's feeling especially weak he'll need some comfort- just to get him through the night. it's these nights where you take control more, setting a slow and sweet pace and kind of just... hushing him and whispering sweet words to him as you slowly let yourself grind over him, feeling the way he twitches inside of u <333 but yeah back to not vulnerable blade. a fan of quickies for sureeee (see: high sex drive) another tit guy because i am biased. the force of his thrusts in some dark alleyway or hidden corner will have them jiggling and threatening to fall out of whatever shirt you wear. and if he's got you lifted up in his arms, your legs wrapped around him as you're chest to chest with each other, he just can't tear his eyes away from your boobs. leaves bites on them, laves over them like a damn dog until they're coated in saliva and stiff and perked up because of how cold it feels when drying on your skin. if you're in doggystyle, you'll feel his hands clasp over them from behind, a few short and sweet squeezes to them before his blunt nails are flicking over your nipples just to hear you squeal <3

AVENTURINE .ᐟ୨୧ just like blade, he very much has two different modes. let's start with the freaky one bc that's fun. he's quite open to experiment with all aspects of sex- who's in charge, who's topping, toys, positions, you name it. he trusts you enough to do anything with or to you short of causing each other pain. so yeah he's a freak alright!! i feel like if you're in an established relationship, he'll feel guilty due to the amount if time that he spends away from you because of his job, and make it up to you by spoiling you with gifts... he loves to buy you new toys to try out as he sits back and just watches as you squirm and then writhe in pleasure as he slowly palms himself, eventually unzipping his trousers and jerking himself off until he cums all over u <33 definitely gets a kick out of seeing his cum painting your pretty face and how your tongue darts out to catch it before it drips onto the floor <333 or maybe he just strokes himself to stay hard, his eyes hungrily watching you as your own remain transfixed on his cock, the flushed tip disappearing with every stroke of his hand, the slick noises of his precum overpowering the buzzing hum of the dildo inside of you. and then when neither of you can handle the tension any more, dying to feel each other's touch, after you've cum a couple of times and are all nice and sensitive for him, then and ONLY then will he finally put it in, quickly setting a pace to fuck your brains out like a wild animal <3 lovessss doggystyle or the speedbump position because then he's all up in your guts and ur moans/screams of pleasure are just music to his ears. definitely the type to go a little feral bc... yeah. so yeah that's freaky mode! but like blade he has a softer side to him UNLIKE blade it is still definitely there and more accessible... but that doesn't mean he exposes it to you just like that either. but yeah if he's feeling more vulnerable emotionally, especially right after he wakes up from a nightmare while you're groggily waking up next to him, he just needs comfort. you holding him and stroking his hair, telling him how he's safe and how much you love him. if you've been together for a while and he really trusts you, he might even cry. almost begs you to call him kakavasha instead of aventurine, and you oblige. and then as soon as his name leaves your lips, he's kissing you hard, gradually letting them become tender as you undress each other with the utmost amount of care. it's love that motivates him, from what you can feel from his fingers tracing your skin and how soft his lips press against yours. he lets out a quiet moan as he sinks into you and basks in your warmth for a bit, letting his arms now wrap around your frame tightly, holding you to himself as if you would disappear any moment. and you hug him too, draw patterns on his back, stroke his hair and hum as you tell him how much you love him, listening to the sound of his shaky breaths as you slowly raise your hips, sinking back down inch by inch to hear him hiss. at first, he would still refuse to let you see his face when you have sex like this, not until you gently coax him to look at you, and you see the crystalline tears already escaping from his eyes. he's definitely the type to cry during sex like this- something so soft and tender that it's overwhelming to him for so many reasons- the vulnerability of it all, how much you love and care for him written all over your face, the way you squeeze against him so perfectly. and then he buries his face in your chest as you keep whispering words of affirmation to him and he cums so fast, deep inside of you and then he stays even when he feels himself go soft. just because it feels nice. and he falls asleep just like that, clinging to you, the person he loves.

JING YUAN .ᐟ୨୧ another member of team lazy but pussydrunk (him and welt have permanent memberships lmfao) whenever the two of you fuck it usually starts with him making you work for it. involving either you getting off by grinding on his thigh or riding him, desperately throwing your weight back onto him to even simulate the feeling of his powerful thrusts- all in vain as he merely sits there, looking up at you with a maddening smile and just WATCHING you... what a creep <3 but yeah he loves loves loves seeing how worked up and whiny you get for him to do something, anything, just for him to do the exact opposite, placing two firm hands on your hips to effectively get you to stop, and you whine again from the loss of friction. and he'll merely smile, telling you how you're such a good girl for him, getti my off from watching you get so so close, just to do it over and over again. orgasm denial and edging really are his two best friends fr. so he's not really a strict dom but more of a tease, you get me? i think that YES he will use toys. really gets a kick out of vibrating panties or a vibrator inside of you that he can remote control <33 just really enjoys when you're in public trying to remain composed (what a creep <3) keeps u constantly stimulated all day, finally making it up to you when you both get back home, fucking you properly as you're on the verge of tears and ready to cum any second. hmmm hear me out on this but i think his favourite place to cum would be your back.. like yeah finishing inside is cool and all but pulling out and cumming all over your back just drives him CRAZY and ready for another round... as soon as you recover <3

LUOCHA .ᐟ୨୧ LORDDDDDD he's like jing yuan but even WORSE. he's dangerous too because in his eyes, it isn't him or a toy but him AND a toy. this man will have u in his lap thighs spread legs hanging over his knees so he can keep them open as he has one hand gripping your chin forcing to look at yourself in a mirror, the other hand holding a vibe to yr clit <33 every time your eyes start to roll back he'll do a light slap to your face, forcing you to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, his feline eyes dancing with mirth at your already fucked-out expression. and then when he's sure that his gaze is holding your attention, he'll let go of your face, letting his hand snaie downwards until his hands are collecting your slick on his fingers before pushing into you, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek that contradicts how hard he's fingering you <3 squirting is not an achievement but the new standard with him!! that man is NOT relenting until you coat his arm and the floor (even the mirror) he really likes making you kiss him just after you cum- when your brain is foggy from the intensity of your orgasm, you can barely hear, let alone process what he's saying, and when u finally manage to connect your lips to his the kiss is just so sweet n sloppy, showing how worked up he is already <33 he's a little mean with it but you wouldn't have it any other way!! because that man knows what you need and will DELIVER. and he loves alllll of you. especially your pussy. and ass lol

DR RATIO .ᐟ୨୧ ok stay with me now cos this one's more of a scenario but!!! imagine that you haven't seen veritas in a while because you've both been busy but he messages you, saying how he'll finally be back soon!!! and ur just so excited that you can't contain it, and all those lonely nights are starting to tally up... your hands just don't do the trick any more and you finally cave, getting out your old reliable dildo to try and satiate your lust. trying your hardest to focus on veritas while you fuck yourself so that you'll be able to cum... pretending that it's his cock instead of some silicone... moaning out his name into your room with your eyes screwed shut to try trick your brain into believing that it's really him!! and it seems to work because you can feel that coil in you begin to tighten, and just when ur about to cum you feel a hand on top of yours, startling you out of your impending orgasm. and you open your eyes to see none other than the man who you had been fantasising about just now <3 and he's got this smirk on his face and a certain look in his eyes, and when you glance down you can see that he isn't exactly... unaffected from watching you earlier <33 i feel like he would degrade you a little, calling you such a stupid girl for needing to think of him just to even get close to cumming <333 and you'll whine and get embarrassed, trying to hide yourself with the covers, but deep down you know he's right so you peek at him from behind your lashes, batting them and begging him to help you as sweetly as you can. and how can he deny you when you're just so sweet and submissive for him? he'll be quick to take out his cock, slipping the head through your folds, letting it catch as it skims past your needy hole, letting the tip slap against your sensitive clit just to watch your whole body twitch as he chuckles to himself before bullying his cock into you. even after fucking yourself it's still a stretch, especially cos he has you in a mating press, his strong hands keeping your thighs pinned as he puts hisbweight behind his thrusts, really slamming into you until you're bouncing back against the mattress <33 a good hard fuck that hits all the right spots he needs to in order for you to cum HARD. but if he's feeling mean, he won't even oblige your request, instead being all smug and settling back on his haunches, goading you to keep going and make yourself cum without him because you're just so close, you can do it. watches your pathetic attempts to do so as you huff and beg him because you just can't without him <//3 and maybe if you beg hard enough he'll consider helping you out... even though it's just so entertaining to watch you keep trying. ironically enough, it's the way he calls you his sweet girl as he finally pushes into you that sends you over the edge more than any of your own touches did. and once you ride out that high, body no longer convulsing on his dick, he'll pull out of you just to flip you onto your stomach, then pull your hips up to meet his before fucking into you to make you really cum because of him this time <33

SAMPO .ᐟ୨୧ this man is MOST DEFINITELY an experimentalist!!! 1000% down for literally anything. you use toys on each other el oh el. the epitome of a switch. he'll top or bottom too, it's always a good time with him. definitely a freak. tbh i headcanon him as having a crazy oral fixation... if he's not sucking on your tits already then put your fingers in his mouth!! he'll have hearts swimming in his eyes, especially if you let them slide to the back of his throat until he gags and his eyes get all teary!!! definitely a sight to behold if u start fingerfucking his throat. or maybe just gag him with your panties, letting urself hear his muffled whines and moans as you finally free his cock and deepthroat him <33 oh god his whines and moans... get this man on twitter NEEOOOWWW. as a top he's definitely more goofy about it, not super strict. sex is about making sure you both feel good and just having a good time im his eyes.

GALLAGHER .ᐟ୨୧ ... this man... a certified freak. me personally im not into it but IF U LIKE ANAL THIS IS UR GUY 1000%%%. he def loves ur ass more than anything. the type to stick a finger in as he makes out with you or just let his finger tease the ring of muscle, circling it ever so slowly to feel u squirm while sat naked in his lap. when he eats you out he'll let his tongue drop a little lower to tease both of your holes. if u let him he'll eat your ass with GUSTO. and YES he's using toys on you you're not safe... buttplugs with the cute jewel on them and when you're in public he'll give your ass a slap or squeeze just to see your face change as you feel it press a little deeper into you... he'll have a vibrator fucking into your pussy as he's all up in your guts, laughing at the way you can't even form words right now. yeahhh he's a FREAK. oh and did i mention that he's an ass guy??

SUNDAY .ᐟ୨୧ ohohoho. this man has actual YEARS of pent up sexual frustration under his belt. his wings. whatever. he's a man who thrives off of control, and this is no exception in the bedroom. massive dom. both soft and hard. but more hard <3. really gets off on u calling him sir LAWLLL. lowkey i see him being into some real freaky bdsm stuff... cos hes got the whole sexually repressed catholic thing going on n all yknow. likes seeing u kneeled w your hands tied behind your back. you stripped naked while hes fully clothed and smiling so sweetly as he watches you try and get yourself off by humping his shoe. anything for that power imbalance with him hrrrrng. and if youre feeling a bit more bratty, touch his wings. preen them, blow air on them, even grip onto them HARD with your fingers and it'll get him all riled up. and then that sweet smiling facade will drop and youll see his eyes change into something a touch more feral as he pins u down and fucks u hard and properly. just to remind u who's really in control <3. the aftercare goes crazy, naturally. but then i also saw this post talking abt how hes a PEOPLE PLEASER and i agree 10000% so when he's feeling more soft, your pleasure is his greatest reward. a headrush mix of sweet praise and filthy degradation. telling you how you're a nasty bitch who's just so good for him... how you take him so well like the filthy slut you are.... and he's just so so composed during it all like an ANGEL EHFHWJFJE it makes ur head spin istg. yeah he's a freak in the sheets LOLL

IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ...... eat it 'til your teeth rot!

[ SMUT ] how the hsr men eat pussy!

alternatively, find my hsr masterlist here! ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

[darkmatilda]

𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: teasing spencer leads him to attempt guessing the color of your underwear. and he (almost) gets it right.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, bar, teasing, lots of underwear talk — do i even need to say more?? oh and reader’s wearing a dress. and *surprise* underwear

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.1k (+ a little treat/surprise at the end!)

𝐚/𝐧: forehead kisses for the anons who inspired this idea LOVE U

“Hiding by yourself at the bar at your best friend’s birthday party? You should be ashamed, Spencer Reid.”

The man didn’t turn his head toward you right away, and he didn’t seem particularly surprised that you were calling him out. Well, he was indeed sitting at the bar without any of your other friends nearby, slightly hunched, with an expression that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to party—but hadn’t wanted to disappoint Penelope, so he’d shown up.

 He had to know that his gloominess would soon draw you in.You took the most pleasure in teasing him when he was like this, which is why, the moment you caught his silhouette out of the corner of your eye, your legs practically carried you toward it on their own.

At the sight of you, he didn’t suddenly pull his shoulders back to look better, nor did he tilt his chin up with fake confidence. He only gave the slightest shrug—but you saw his gaze sweep deliberately over your body and outfit as you took a seat beside him, turning to face him directly.

Then his slow eye movement suddenly shot in another direction—he nodded toward something.

“As you can see, my best friend has more interesting things to do than play hide-and-seek with me,” he snorted, aiming the sarcastic edge at you and your earlier words rather than at Garcia.

You glanced in the direction he’d indicated, and your eyebrows twitched with interest at the sight of Penelope flirting with some man who was hunched forward to talk to her, trying to make up for the noticeable height difference.

“Our girl is busy hunting. Be patient with her,” you said in a scolding tone.

He caught your gaze, sending you a silent I’m being very patient—without even the faintest hint of a smile.But you weren’t interested in his moodiness just yet, and you ignored him for a moment, observing your friend’s seduction tactics—or rather, the man she was working them on.

“What do you think, profiler? Could there be something there?”

Spencer snorted.

“Exactly. Profiler. It’s usually part of my job to assess different things than whether my friend and some random guy are a match. Like, say…serial offenders.”

You grimaced at his condescending tone. Only then did the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, as if some internal smugness had just bubbled up.

“Imagine he is one of them,” you suggested.

“Then I wouldn’t be sitting here doing nothing. And I definitely wouldn’t be letting her talk to him,” he replied flatly.

You rolled your eyes with an exaggerated boring. Your irritation—entirely his fault—seemed to work like fuel for him. He fully turned to face you now, looking noticeably more energized.

“No, I don’t think anything could come of it,” he added. “Mostly because the guy’s married.”

Your skeptical look.

“Where does that certainty come from?”

“Profiler’s instinct. But seriously,” Spencer paused, resting one elbow on the counter and leaning slightly toward you to point something out with a tilt of his head. Before you followed his gaze, you took a moment to wonder whether he was wearing a different cologne than usual, or if you had simply forgotten what his regular one smelled like. Either way, it was pleasant. His eyes rested on your face for a second, as if to check whether he had your attention. He did.  “Look. Every now and then he moves his hand like he wants to reach for his wedding ring. A typical married man reflex. But he stops himself so he won’t give it away. Just like now.”

The guy indeed made a slight motion with his hand, which he then let fall along his side. With Reid’s comment so close to your ear, it felt like you were watching a National Geographic documentary — except the narrator had a sexier voice.

“Also, see that lighter skin on his finger?”

You narrowed your eyes.

“I see it,” you admitted after a moment. “He tanned around the ring.”

He nodded approvingly.

“You’re learning fast.”

You didn’t let him mock you.

“Can I call myself a profiler now?” you asked.

You could see her barely holding back a scoff.

“To get that far, you’d have to draw a few more conclusions. What you just said—anyone who had a Sherlock Holmes phase as a kid could’ve picked up on it. Or just someone a bit more observant. A real profiler would’ve added something else.”

You stared at him for a moment before rolling your eyes toward the ceiling in mock surrender.

“Fine. Go ahead, show off, profiler.”

You knew he was waiting for that. He didn’t even acknowledge your sarcastic tone—he jumped straight into his explanation.

“Look at his posture. He’s trying way too hard to seem relaxed. Classic behavior for someone who hasn’t flirted in a long time. Which means this is probably his first slip—or attempt, anyway. He had a fight with his wife, it’s recent. He stormed out of the house angry, ended up here, tried to blow off steam. But the more he talks to Penelope, the more his confidence shrinks. Guilt’s creeping in. He didn’t cheat, but he’s guilty of the thought, and that’s enough to wreck his game. He’s getting quieter. Penelope’s picking up on it. Any second now she’ll decide she’s not into this conversation and walk away…”

Reid clapped his hands, triumphant.

Right on cue, Penelope turned and walked away from the guy.

You hadn’t planned to react, but your lips parted and an incredulous snort escaped before you could stop it. You turned to Spencer with open disbelief.

“No way,” you shook your head. You didn’t care how much it was feeding his ego. You shook your head again, more firmly. “No way. I hate you guys. And by you guys, I mean the entire BAU. You look at some random dude and see all that? Is it like that with everyone? You look at me and what—can you guess the color of my underwear or something?”

He listened to your rant with a deceptively neutral expression. Deceptive, because he was trying to look stoic, like your words and the reaction they provoked weren’t flattering him—when in fact, they totally were. Deceptive, because they added just enough fuel to his confidence that, for a second, it took over, slipped past his usual restraint and came out in the form of a smug:

“I could try.”

You tilted your head to the side. Your gaze held no hesitation, no uncertainty, and definitely no shyness—oh no, absolutely not. Your gaze said you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into? Because in no possible universe could you imagine the Spencer Reid you knew speculating about your underwear. Taking it off? Sure. But talking about it with you?

His expression tightened just slightly, like he already regretted his decision. And honestly? He probably did. But he didn’t backpedal with a hasty swallow and awkward excuse. Neither did you. You simply crossed one leg over the other and fixed him with an expectant look. There was already a smug, taunting smile settling comfortably on your lips.

He met your eyes and held them for a beat before taking in a slow breath. That familiar expression began to slide into place—the one that meant full focus, analytical gears turning.

“Well…where to begin,” he mused out loud, his eyes scanning you as if the color of your underwear might be conveniently written across your forehead. Spoiler. It wasn’t. “You’re dressed in black.”

A beat of silence. Your scoff.

“Congrats on the observation.”

“Which means you didn’t have to worry about any color showing through,” he cut in, completely ignoring your jab. Not in a saving face kind of way—he genuinely seemed not to hear it, totally immersed in the challenge he’d foolishly given himself. “So you didn’t have to limit yourself to neutral tones, like beige, which you might pick if you were wearing something light. So I’m assuming you took advantage of that and went with something dark.”

His gaze finally rose from your dress, locking with yours again.

“Hot and cold?” he asked.

“Am I allowed to give you hints?”

He sighed.

You had to admit—it was a good starting point. And maybe it was that tiny bit of appreciation that made you roll your eyes a moment later and mutter, “Burning.”

His grateful nod. The slight twitch of his mouth. He cleared his throat again, forcing himself to continue.

“You could still be wearing beige or white, though. But your outfit today is unusually simple, even boring, for you—”

“Thank you,” you cut in sharply, with a hiss at the end.

“...and you like to stand out, even if it’s just for yourself, so I think it’s not too crazy to assume you went with something bolder. That’s also why I’m ruling out black. Oh, and definitely nothing lacy.”

That last part made you frown. It was said with such certainty you didn’t understand where it came from.

“Profiler instinct again, or do you actually have reasoning to back that up?” you asked.

If everything he’d said up until now was laced with playful speculation, this part landed with surprising confidence. He even shrugged, like it was obvious.

“A bold color and lace is more of a...statement. Usually chosen by women who want to feel a boost of confidence. Which you don’t need. But more importantly, I just don’t think you’d wear something like that just to spend the evening at a bar with someone like me. And someone who’s now using profiling techniques to guess the color of your underwear for… reasons nobody can quite explain.”

The period at the end of his sentence was sharp, but short. He didn’t let you respond, immediately pushing forward.

“And it’s not red.”

That one made you forget everything he’d said before. You hadn’t expected him to rule out red so early. After all, it was—

“It’s your favorite color,” Spencer continued. “You agreed to this whole thing because you knew I knew that, and you were hoping I’d guess it and be wrong. If you were wearing red, you wouldn’t have brought this up at all.”

You were starting to struggle to keep up with his logic. Spencer, on the other hand, was beginning to sound more and more like a brilliant scientist obsessing over his favorite phenomenon. You stayed silent now, genuinely curious what he’d say next.

 He wasn’t wrong. You weren’t wearing red underwear.

“So now I’m hesitating between two colors. Pink, dark pink, and navy blue. Both seem to fit, but I don’t know which one more, so I start considering the symbolism of the colors. Well, pink would be more sensual, even a little cheeky, worn under black clothing. But navy, on the other hand, symbolizes a certain seriousness, stability. Sophistication, even. In the end, I deeply doubt you were sitting by your underwear drawer wondering what your bra color symbolized,” a snort slipped out, but his cheeks began to turn a barely noticeable shade of red.

Well, one of you had to be wearing it that day. For the balance of the universe.

Spencer took another, though not his last, deep breath that evening with you. He took a moment before continuing.

You couldn’t say you weren’t waiting for it, not taking your eyes off him for a second.

“But in the end, I’m going with navy. Reasons are quite simple. First, profiler’s instinct. Second…in my…humble…opinion..you’d look better in blue. 

He finally forced the words out, and you just kept looking at him. In his humble opinion.

Time passed, and he still didn’t get confirmation. All the more, you somehow couldn’t bring yourself to give it to him. Eventually, stiffly and still without a word, you nodded. Once.

“You’re almost right, Doctor Reid.”

He frowned.

“Almost?”

You grabbed the hem of your dress on the side that matched the pair, lifting it just briefly to the right height. Just for his eyes. Your underwear was, in fact, navy.

But also the kind he’d almost ruled out right at the start—lace.

heyy fic’s over tysm for reading but there’s a tiny surprise/crack bit down below if u wanna check it out

:))) 

Penelope massaged her aching temples. Her head was literally splitting, not just from lack of sleep and the alcohol from the night before—in short, her birthday night out with friends. The pain was made worse by the countless screens surrounding her and what was on them. Case files, faces of murderers, often graphic photos.

Ugh. She needed to look at pictures of tiny fluffy kittens.

She scrolled through those little creatures for about five minutes, after which she felt slightly better. She didn’t have anything urgent to do anyway, so she opened Reddit. Just a place where people sometimes asked weird, often hilarious questions.

One of them immediately caught her attention. She clicked.

coworker guessed the color of my underwear and im going ABSOLUTELY FERAL?? 💀💀💀

okay so i’m female and there’s this guy i fw pretty well but he usually pisses me off but yesterday we were at this bar and i was kinda teasing him and told him to guess the color of my underwear and he analyzed me like fucking einstein and GUESSED???? and the worst part is it turned me on??? like somehow it was the most county thing i’ve ever seen and i’ve seen a lot + he literally had his shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck what is WRONG with me

Penelope burst out laughing and her fingers almost instinctively reached for the keyboard.

gurl you just like him! <3

[stars-and-clouds]

Astarion Romance Headcanons 🥀

SFW:

Side glances when you're besides him

Full on staring when you're not

Immediately looking away when you catch him

"You know the way he looks at you, don't you, soldier?"

His pinky itching towards yours when you're walking, wanting to hold your hand but unsure because, is it too much? Will you reject him?

His hands scrunching up your shirt tightly whenever you hug. He's always the last to let go.

You hold on longer and longer each time because he doesn't want to let go.

His kisses are tender and needy.

He likes the warmth of your hands.

Thinking of what tones will suit your perfume the best. He'll gift it to you after all this is over.

He'll sew the holes or tears in your clothes over the night and pretend he doesn't know what happened next morning.

When you move to kiss his cheek he will grimace in annoyance but lean in as you do it.

"Be careful around Astarion, (Tav). He's not serious about you.", the others will warn you. And Astarion will worry you'll heed their words more than his so he'll do so much to prove his love to you, not knowing that you already trust him (even if that is an objectively stupid thing to do lmao).

He started sleeping next to you from the moment you had sex but ever since you've entered the shadowlands, he ends up cuddling in the middle of the night. He misses the sun.

He likes kissing the palm of your hand or its back.

Likes to pack your bag before you leave camp.

"No one's ever going to love me like that again."

Ever since you told him that there's more to him than just beauty and sex, that he's hilarious, for instance, he finds ways to make you laugh. He loves it. He's started being a lot more sarcastic and makes more jokes just to hear your laughter. He'll never admit it, of course. Other than maybe when it's only you two.

Doesn't believe he will be able to love again if you let go of him.

"Don't be so nice to me." he says with round, needy and pleading eyes.

Thinking of ways he can show others you're together so others know you're not available.

Hiding his jealousy, terribly.

He will rip the throat out of anyone with malicious intent towards you.

"I will wait the whole of my life for you, Astarion." He doesn't believe it at first, but the longer you go on without sex the safer he feels and the more he wants you.

NSFW:

He sometimes cries silently at night, wishing he could make love to you without it feeling so tainted. He wants it so badly, but his past experience prohibits it. The pain of wanting something and being unable to have it only because of himself is too much. He blames himself too sometimes. Wishing he could give you more.

"I don't mind waiting.", you'd say.

"I do. I can't have you, no matter how much I want you.", he'd say.

When you cuddle him sensing he's upset, he will bury his face in your neck to hide his tears. The smell of you is comforting.

Needing you everytime you're tender with him.

Getting aroused when you hug during a kiss.

Wanting to kiss your skin all over, to make you cry from pleasure as you bury your face in his neck.

Wanting you to hold on to him for dear life as you climax.

When he's finally comfortable enough and takes charge of his own sexuality, he'll be so needy.

Realising that the two nights he had sex with you were nothing compared to how good making love to you feels.

When you give up all control to him, letting him do to you as he wants, the pleasure is almost too much bear. The power he feels is palpable and knowing it is you who trusts him so much will drive him near mad.

He will lose control many times so you have a safe word.

You both think of the stupidest word possible as a safe word. Something that makes you both laugh when it's used.

He likes over stimulating you, making you beg and he'll kiss you to calm you.

"It's okay, you can do it, darling.", he'll say stroking you even further and kissing your tears.

"Does that feel good, my love?"

The more you beg the more he loves it.

He likes playing with your hands, holding them in his, touching your fingers, comparing them to his while you rest on his chest, still warm from him being inside of you.

Resting his head against your chest to hear your heartbeat.

Staring at your face and body intently. Taking in every little reaction you make and replaying them over in his head throughout the day.

Staring at you longingly when you're both with the squad, failing terribly at focusing in battle or conversation.

Getting aroused when you're covered in blood.

Seeing you fighting, in general, turns him on. The smell of your sweat, your rapid heart beat, the way your body moves, all of it now only reminds him of making love to you.

Telling you to say his name whenever he's feeling good and you'll chant it as you cum. He loves how it sounds from your lips.

Resting his forehead against yours as he's close to cumming.

"Look at me.", he'll command you.

He likes when your hands rake his hair, pull his hair, tug it whatever. That slight bit of pain arouses him. Better yet, if you bury your nails into his skin.

He likes to look at you falling asleep. It's such a gentle thing. How can someone so strong otherwise be so soft around him? Why him? Why did someone like you choose someone like him? He can't believe he has you.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50833876/chapters/128419966 I am updating these hcs on my ao3, if anyone is interested!

[bbokicidal]

"What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [I.N]

Everyone decides to take a guess what Jeongin's girlfriend's favorite thing to do in the bedroom is - and almost everyone gets it wrong.

Genre: Smut [18+ MDNI] Pairing: Jeongin x Fem!Reader Warnings: SPIT, lots of spit, PinV (wrap it before you tap it), tummy bulge/size kink, manhandling, bondage/hands being bound together, pussy spanking, spanking in general

Notes: This IS a short fic and isn't anything really long. There's no plot - it's purely smut for your viewing pleasure and my mental peace, lol. <- This is the last installment of this series !! It's finally coming to an end.~

Word Count: 2.2K

Bangchan | Lino | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | I.N

"Why does Hyunjin get to go first?" "Because he's already between her legs, I guess."

"Would you two shut up? This is all for educational purposes. You need to watch and learn; Because I'm about to prove to you that I know what her biggest kink is." Hyunjin's head whips to face the two that bicker about him, Jisung stepping back and Felix letting his arms cross over his chest. "Ayen-ah's let on before that she really likes this one." His thumb finds your clit, flicking over the bundle of nerves and you finally give him a soft reaction to work with, your eyes slipping shut and hands curling against your chest in awe.

Felix lets out a heavy breath that ends in a soft whine, his head tipping to the side to get a better look at where his Hyung's cock begins to prod at your folds - and Felix can't help but stare as he slowly sinks into your warmth, wishing it were himself instead. "That's not fair.."

"So what exactly is the kink here...? Or is this just one big excuse to fuck your friend's girlfriend?" Chris quips off to Hyunjin's right, peering almost just over his shoulder to watch as the younger's cock sinks further into you. ".. Going in raw?" He questions shortly after, realizing Hyunjin hadn't slipped a condom on before pushing into you.

And Hyunjin sighs, tongue prodding at the corner of his mouth as he listens to the others continue to bicker about him just wanting to have sex with you.

But then Jisung sees it.

The way your skin tightens; The way your stomach bulges each time Hyunjin slowly rolls his hips forward. The way your head tips back as he leans down over you and whispers for you to feel it, guiding one of your hands away from your chest to instead press down on the very place his cock prods and rocks against. "..Bulging..." He whispers, lips parted in surprise at the sight in front of them.

"That's.. a pretty close second." Jeongin hums. He sits back against the headboard as he watches his Hyung rock into you slowly; He was lucky he got to fuck you at all - with Jeongin's permission of course - so he was going to do it with the utmost care. "But that's definitely not top spot."

Jisung practically barks from where he stands behind Hyunjin, reaching to tug on his shoulder. "I knew that wasn't going to be it-! Move, it's my turn." And to many of their surprise, the artist lets himself be pulled away from your sweetness.

Just as expected, Jisung moves forward instead to test his theory. If he could get this right with his one guess he would win the bet. And the prize... God, he's never imagined something so wonderful in his entire life. One hand drops to lay on your thigh while the other reaches to undo his belt - and he watches your eyes widen in surprise at his bold move, thinking he'd won already. Your lips pop apart and you're sure you're about to drool at the way his fingers curl around the buckle and rip it wide open, his belt dragging through the loops of his jeans in such a quick and slick manner that you're sure this is a practiced move. With your reaction he was sure he just ended the bet.

Jeongin almost moves to ask Jisung what he's going to do with that belt, hoping there's no impact about to be made with the accessory - but he simply sits up and stays quiet as he watches Jisung wrap the thick, heavy leather around your wrists to keep them snug together. Your soft gasp of anticipation feeds into Jisung's delusion that he was winning the bet, letting him pin your arms down above your head before he leans in to smile right in your face. "You like bondage, don't you, angel?"

And your smile grows, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you nod. "I do; I really, really do. But..." Jisung's heart sinks as you giggle. "It's not my favorite."

"Hah!" Changbin's laugh basically spews from his lips in a visual syllable, his arms previously crossed over his chest now gesturing to Jisung to skidaddle. "Go. She said you lost the bet so get off 'er and let someone else have a turn." His lips pull into a soft smirk, parted and exposing the way his tongue pokes between his teeth like he has ideas of his own to try out.

But someone else is just a tad quicker with wanting to win the bet. As soon as Jisung moves off of the bed in front of you to go sit beside Jeongin in defeat, Minho is right there to take his place; Only he doesn't crawl onto the bed to get to you and instead stands at the edge of it, feeling as though he looms over your still-bound body displayed for them so openly atop the sheets.

Your wrists stay above your head as you crane your neck to look at the man standing so close yet so far, only to have your head bounce back against the mattress from the force of Minho's hand locking around your right ankle tight enough you're sure it might bruise. He wastes no time in dragging you to where he stands so he's properly positioned between your legs, his eyes dark as they drag over every curve that comes to him so swiftly. And no one in the room can ignore the way you yelp at the feeling of being manhandled.

Calloused palms and rough fingertips run up the outer expanse of your thighs, coming nowhere near close to your warmth as they wander higher. He grips at your hips and gives them a teasing squeeze, feeling the way your skin presses between his fingers; So soft, so tempting. With careful but fairly stiff and rough movements, the muscle in his biceps tightens and flexes as he flips you from your back to your front - your face down and ass up for him. A position most would expect when it came to the resident ass-lover of the group. "There we go."

And with the way you moan the moment your face hits the sheets everyone in the room can almost guarantee Minho had won the bet fair and square. That was until your head slowly lifted from where it pressed against the mattress, breathing heavy with eyes dragging up towards your boyfriend where he sat now in front of you - smirking and letting his arms slowly cross over his chest. "You gonna tell them, baby, or do I have to?"

"There's no way that wasn't it." But Seungmin steps forward to test his luck anyway. Even if Minho won the bet just now, he wanted to get his own needs met, his palm smacking down hard on the bare skin of your asscheeks twice before he brought his hand lower and let it meet the wetness of your folds. That gets you to jolt, a sharp gasp escaping swollen lips.

The way you whimpered against the satin of your sheets almost made Seungmin think he was right about his guess, but the glance and small shake of Jeongin's head seemed to secure the realization that he was wrong, too. Seungmin sighs out and brings his hand down harder than before, making you flinch and moan loud - just for him, considering he'd been spanking you for his own satisfaction at that point. May as well let him know you appreciated it while it happened - and that you were open to it in the future, too, of course.

"I'm starting to think we're never going to guess it," Chris murmurs from where he stands near Changbin, leaning against the wall just to watch as everyone took guess after guess. "Maybe we should start going for softer kinks? Stuff that's less harsh...?"

Changbin shakes his head almost immediately. "She seems like the type who would like impact play or something, though. Do we need to go for something more extreme..?"

"What if it's got something to do with toys?" Jisung quips quietly, seated on the edge of the bed and fighting hard not to beg for another chance at winning the bet.

While the producers babbled on to each other about where to go from their current point, Felix stepped forward from where he'd been observing the entire time the others tried to figure out what it was you liked. You'd reacted well to everything they'd done so far; Hyunjin's size, Jisung's restraining, Minho's manhandling, and then Seungmin's spanking. There was no way in Hell you didn't enjoy the more hard-hitting kinks and the like - so he was going to take his chance while the others whined to each other about losing the bet. Besides, they were working against each other - not with.

"Move." Felix hums, gently nudging Minho aside. The older of the two surprisingly complies with ease and steps aside to watch Felix with close eyes, his hands settling on your ass before rubbing down to your hips. There's no hold, no grabbing - no slapping, spanking, bruising or restraining. No, Felix's hands are gentle as they rub over your skin, smoothing down the swell of your ass before giving a teasing squeeze and trailing lower. He settles his hands along your thighs before using his thumbs to spread your pussy open just for him to see - and for Minho to get a glance at.

Chris tips his head as he watches, eyes drawn away from Jisung and Changbin when Felix had stepped forward to take a shot at the prize. "Felix, wait. We should figure out what --"

But then he stops, lips popping apart in pure surprise at the utter filthiness of the younger man placed behind you.

Just as you lift your head to peek up in slight confusion at their constant rambling - and the feeling of someone's hands on you from behind who definitely was not Minho - Felix spits on your pussy.

It splatters on the pink of your skin, mixing with the slick that seems to gush from your aching, empty hole - and Felix watches as you clench around nothing in desperation. Yeah, he'd just won the bet.

"Shit," falls from Hyunjin's lips before he can help it, staring down the brunet who he wasn't aware until now was quite so.. dirty. His eyes dart from Felix over to where you lay, your reaction giving everything away; The way you bury your face down in the sheets as a strangled and shy moan rips from your throat; The way your cheeks burn a crimson hue none of them had seen all night. Even your ears tint pink in embarrassment that your dirty little secret had been revealed.

Jeongin, finally sitting forward and reaching to cup your cheeks in one of his hands, tips your head to face him so you can't quite hide away from them no matter how much you want to. "Look at me," he demands, voice soft but firm with instruction. "Open." And the others watch as you obey so sweetly for your boyfriend, lips falling apart and jaw completely slack so he can spit right onto your tongue - your mouth closing so you can swallow it before whimpering out in need of more.

And Felix - well, he's in Heaven. He'd took his shot and won the bet, belt everyone else out of the water no matter how hard they tried to figure you out - and he'd done it just by standing back and watching. His chest swells with pride and excitement at the knowledge that now, he got to receive his prize; That being you for at long as he wanted - or as long as he could last, he supposed. There was no way he was giving you back up to Jeongin before he was milked dry. And what kind of a friend would he be if he didn't pump you full before he returned you to your rightful owner?

"Get out." His voice is low in his chest, demanding everyone else leave so he could have his time with you. He needed it more than anything at the moment - you two shared the exact same kink and he was sure now he'd put that knowledge to good use, maybe even treat you so well with it that you wouldn't want to go crawling back to your boyfriend. But more importantly, you needed it, too, what with the way you were still clenching around nothing and just begging for him to spit on your pretty pussy again.

As the others file out the bedroom door, Jeongin chuckles low in his throat and leans forward to give you a quick kiss before he departs. His thumb slides over your cheek, gentle and soft - soothing before the heated, lust-filled ache that was bound to come in the following hours. His lips were like Heaven - like home - as they pressed against yours in a promise that once Felix was done with you - done with his reward for winning the bet and getting to use you like a toy for as long as he wanted - he would return and greet you with a warm embrace to give you as much care as you needed. Not that he doubted Felix would treat you well. Jeongin took a moment to peek down at where your wrists were still bound together with Jisung's belt, moving a hand down to hook a finger around the leather to give a gentle tug. He smiled against your lips, thumb tugging at the lower as he slowly pulled away to whisper,

"I'm going to leave this here. Good luck, baby."

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[kurooh]

Heyy I love your works!! Can I get some praise kink works with husband! Kuroo, atsumu and ushijima ?? 🥹🥹

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE.. PRAISED ! — HAIKYUU

⊹₊˚. featuring miya atsumu, kuroo tetsurou, & ushijima wakatoshi lovin’ on and praising their beautiful wife in bed.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, breeding, one squirt, intimacy, praise, mirror sex, creampies, pet names, fluff, lingerie.

xoxo, juno: HI i hope u see this it’s been a few months 🥲 i loved writing atsumu’s he’s so cute

MIYA ATSUMU.

“haah, i fuckin’ love it when ya get dressed up like this, baby. ya always take such good care of me.” atsumu’s fingers smooth over the thin material of your lace thigh highs, his most favorite kind of lingerie to see you in. your soft legs are splayed out on either side of him as you bounce on his cock, squirming whenever his tip kisses your cervix.

he’s huge, easily stretching you out and filling you up just right. atsumu’s never been afraid to be vocal with you, but tonight he seems to be much louder than usual . .

a stream of curses falls from his lips like it’s nothing, and his nails dig into the skin of your hips, leaving indents shaped like crescent moons. “ngh, don’t—please don’t stop.”

“sensitive much?” you giggle, feeling a lot less tired now that he’s used your favorite word. in a heartbeat, you’re moving more deliberately, rolling your hips forward and nosing at the tender skin of his neck. with a moan, atsumu pulls you close and lolls his head over your shoulder, giving you any and all access. 

“jus’ a long day, angel,” he breathes out, clawing at your skin when you press open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck, occasionally nipping at the damp spots. “did ya know ya always make ‘em better?”

“mmm, you said the same thing about your salt baths,” you tease, lightly tracing the curve of his jaw with your tongue, pulling a groan of both pleasure and ire from the depths of his chest. 

“ugh, y’know what i mean,” he rolls his eyes even though you can’t see him, “i don’t look forward ta them like i do ta seein’ ya.”

“tsumu,” you say, borderline moan, and a shiver ripples through his body and makes his balls clench. “i was about to say the same thing, you keep reading my mind.”

you’re both on the same wavelength — which is why your pace quickens, much like his heart, without him having to say anything to you. gingerly, your fingers slip into the gold tufts of his hair and your nails lightly rake across his scalp. it’s when you pull hard that he lets out something between a whimper and a whine, teeth scraping over your shoulder as he searches for something to bite down on.

atsumu’s neck absorbs your own sounds of lewd delight as you ride him into oblivion, trying your hardest not to stop despite the burn in your thighs or the racing of your heart. you gasp sharply when his cock twitches deep inside your cunt and he grips your hips hard, holding you in place as he moans incoherently into your shoulder.

you pull him back by his hair and then into a kiss, your lips muffling his frantic gasps. whatever he said or tried to say is unimportant, because he ends up cumming abruptly, spilling white against your cervix. atsumu’s muscular back heaves as he struggles for breath, the entirety of his body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat that you can’t help but think about licking off.

“tsumu?” you ask gently, fingers lightly scrabbling at the nape of his neck, “you okay?”

he weakly hugs you closer, breathing heavily as he comes down from his high. “god, ‘m definitely gonna be dreamin’ about that,” for a moment, he pauses to kiss away the cooling spit on the slope of your shoulder and lets out a sigh. “jus’ wanna stay like this for a minute, angel. missed ya a lot today.”

KUROO TETSUROU.

“that’s my girl,” tetsurou coos, voice low and lustful, “swear you were made to take my cock just like this, sweetheart.”

clap, clap, clap. the crude smack of skin against skin grows louder, filling the room and inevitably pissing off the neighbors—tetsurou’s always loved to show off, and his most favorite ways to do so are by taking you to office gatherings or like this . . your wrists are bound together by his favorite silk tie for work and you’re sobbing out his name so loudly you’re drowning out the sounds of the bed.

you’re too cock drunk to even think about what flies past your lips. “o-of course i was, tetsu, ‘m all fuckin’ yours.”

he chuckles, bringing a hand down hard against your asscheek. your babbling is cute, but you’re burying yourself in the mussed sheets and making it difficult for him to hear you the way he expects to. that slap stings, and heat licks at the spot where his wedding band came down against your skin, but you don’t do anything other than arch your back and moan.

lithely, tetsurou leans forward over you and slips his hand beneath your chin, cupping your jaw as he lifts your head up and makes you look at the full length mirror that’s set in front of the bed. a dazed glance shows you the fucked out expression on your face and the makeup that’s smudged every which way.

“just look at you,” he chokes out, squeezing your hips as his dark eyes rake over you like he can’t get enough, “i love it—i fuckin’ love it when you’re archin’ like that, so damn pretty.”

tetsurou’s compliments are saccharine and raw whenever he’s inside you, full of filthy appreciativeness as your needy cunt sucks him deeper. he’s practically in your stomach now, taking the saying of ‘rearranging your guts’ almost too literally—it’s impossible to complain, especially when you’re too busy drooling while your eyes roll back in bliss.

“oh, fuck—t-tetsu, ‘m close,” the wet squelches of your pussy grow louder as he jackhammers his cock right into the soft, spongy spot inside of you that always reduces you to a mess without fail. his eyes lock onto you in the mirror as tremors roll through your body like surface waves, your face crumpling at the ecstasy licking at each and every one of your limbs. “ah, right there—oh, oh my goddd, ‘m gonna cum!”

in an instant, tetsurou snakes his hand over your shoulder and wraps his fingers around your neck, firmly pulling your body back against him. breathlessly, he groans into your ear and the sound only makes your heart pound harder, “wifey’s gonna cum all over me, huh?”

you nod frantically, arching against him as your short breaths shift into pitched gasps.

“let me feel you, honey,” warmth ghosts over the shell of your ear as his grip tightens just a fraction, “but i want those pretty eyes to stay open, ‘kay? watch yourself in the mirror like a good girl.”

so you do, even though your eyelids flutter a few times and an influx of tears blurs your vision. like a vice, your walls squeeze down on his cock as if they’re trying to milk him for everything he’s got—it almost works, but he drags in a harsh breath and barely holds it together. he’s got no other choice but to bite down hard on his lip when he feels you gushing waterfalls, soaking his skin with your delicious slick. but, tetsurou isn’t ready to give this up yet, not when he’s having this much fun watching the best porno that’s ever blessed his eyes.

you’re out of breath and entirely limp, voice cracking when you try to say his name. “hold—hold on, i need to sit down.”

an infuriating pout plays on his lips when you look into the mirror, and he takes the opportunity to diligently switch into an easier position where you’re sitting on top of his cock, thighs on either side of his hips. “better, baby?”

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI.

“you didn’t have to, ah, do all that,” you gasp, voice breaking and eyes fluttering shut as the languid thrusts of his cock seem to reach your lungs, “‘toshi, how long were you planning everything?”

wakatoshi chuckles breathlessly, pressing his sweaty forehead to yours. soft, small bits of baby hair stick to his skin, but he’s too focused on you to pay it any mind. “sweetheart, that doesn’t matter. it’s our second anniversary, of course i’d go all out.”

your back arches off the bed, and your hardened nipples press into his own. he’s never been so fulfilled by anyone before—not by friends, or family. not like this. you’re his everything, his favorite part of the day and the person he’d choose over everyone else. in the background, the bed creaks faintly, barely audible over the smooth music that pours into the room from a small speaker. 

it looks like the most romantic scene in a movie, of course it does—wakatoshi’s still as in love with you as he was the first time you went out on a date together, all those years ago.

“i wish you could see how beautiful you look right now,” a warm whisper ghosts against your lips before he gives you a kiss, swallowing your answer and the soft moans that follow it. “mmm, my lovely wife. i’ve been waiting all day to touch you, darling.”

even this far into your relationship with him, your cheeks still get hot when those endearing petnames roll off his tongue—it’s intimate, a gesture that leaves no question about the fact that his heart is entirely yours. 

“toshi,” you whine, nails digging into his muscular shoulders, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, it’s—”

“i was about to say the same, honey,” he groans, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling your scent, “we’re not done, this time i want to—ngh, i want to put a baby in you.”

something delightful flashes behind olive green eyes, and he thinks of you, swollen all from carrying his child. he can’t help but picture walking around with you and everyone knowing that you’re his just from one glance. maybe it’s the baby fever talking or his well-known possessive streak, but wakatoshi’s lost in the fantasy of it all, abs clenching and hips faltering against your own as inescapable ecstasy licks at his limbs.

a sob of his name bursts out of you as you abruptly cum all over his cock, cunt sucking him deeper and gripping him like a vice. he grips your hips to keep you close, and you’re already on it, reading his mind with ease: your legs lock around his waist and draw him in, your own way of telling him you want the same thing he does.

wakatoshi spills inside you while you’re shaking, hot ribbons of cum gushing against your awaiting cervix. even as you thrash beneath him, he firmly holds you in place with his own weight and rocks his hips into you to push his load impossibly deeper. he murmurs sweet, sexy nothings into your ear and feels his eyes roll back when you thread your fingers through his hair. “sweetheart, you’re jus’ so damn perfect,” wakatoshi’s heart pounds even harder in his ears, “i need to—fuck, i have to fill you up again and again . . ”

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!! I hope you’re having a lovely day!! I woke up sick and with the worst throat pain and just cold symptoms and I was wondering if I could request a self indulgent little something with yapper! reader and any of our marauders boys where reader is sick and barely has any voice left but won’t stop talking and reader doesn’t want help/takes care of herself but her man/men (?) still care for her and nurse her back to health.

again super self indulgent but your writing brings me so much comfort, so I thought I’d send it in and see if you feel inspired.

thanks for sharing your writing with us <33

Ty for requesting my love <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 799 words

“Smell this.” You stick a handmade bar of soap under Remus’ nose. Sirius watches as Remus inhales dutifully. “Isn’t that lovely?”

“It’s nice,” Remus agrees. 

You bring it back to your own nose. It doesn’t escape Sirius’ notice that you sniff for a long time, like it takes a lot of effort to get the air in. “I feel like it reminds me of something,” you say, voice rasping on the odd word. “Like, somewhere we’ve been. Do you know?” 

Sirius takes the bar of soap from you as Remus steps forward to see the label on another one. 

“It’s called Lavender Daze,” he reads off. 

Sirius breathes it in, and he knows instantly. “The Black Lake. That’s what it smells like.” He holds it up again for Remus’ approval. After another sniff Remus nods agreeably. “Like the Black Lake right after everything on the shore blooms, yeah?” 

“Well, we have to get it.” You dig in your bag, smiling sweetly at the woman whose booth you’re at. “One of these, please.” 

Sirius, obviously, pays her before you can. You roll your eyes in mild annoyance as though you hadn’t known exactly what you were agreeing to in bringing Sirius anywhere there’d be shopping. 

It’s a gorgeous day for a farmer’s market. Sunny, hardly any clouds, breeze just cool enough to tickle pleasantly over your skin. Sirius tips his face up to the sky as the vendor gets you a bag, enjoying the warmth that seeps into his skin. Beside him, Remus’ mouth tugs concernedly when you have to clear your throat to say something to the woman, your voice wisping away to nearly nothing mid-sentence. 

He takes you under his arm as you step away from the booth. You glow with pleasure as he kisses the top of your head. “Hi,” you say. 

“Hi.” Remus’ voice is achingly fond. “Feeling alright? Ready to go home?” 

You cuddle up to his side. “I’m good, but thanks.” 

“Sure about that?” Sirius teases. “Because you sound like you might’ve swallowed knives, gorgeous.” 

You laugh. It’s a heart-squeezing sound, lovely even when it’s hoarse. You let out a little cough at the end of it. “No, I’ve got it all figured out.” 

Remus lifts an eyebrow at you, as though to say go on. 

“I’m just not giving into it.” You shrug lightly. “If I let myself get sick, I’ll get sick, but if I ignore it it might go away.” 

“Um.” Sirius frowns. “No, I don’t think that’s—” 

“Ooh, honey!” You take off towards another stall. Remus sighs. Sirius takes his hand, squeezing, as they go after you. 

“Look, it’s local,” you say, picking up a bottle to show them excitedly. “So it’s better for you than one you’d get at the store.” 

Sirius hums, unwilling to be distracted. “Listen, if you—” 

“It should help with your hayfever.” You’re all sweet earnestness as you look at him. It makes it very difficult to be irritated with you for not looking after yourself when you’re only trying to look after Sirius. “The pollen from local plants can help your body get used to them so you don’t react so badly. It…” You take on a strange expression. “It—” 

You give up, holding your nose shut as a sneeze rockets out of you, violent, and your face does a little—it does this pinch. Remus sees it, too. “What’s wrong?” he asks, while you wipe under your nose. “It hurts?” 

“A little.” You murmur sheepishly, “Excuse me.” 

“Let’s get you some of the honey, too,” Remus decides. 

“Hm?” You look at him, confused. “I don’t get hayfever.” 

“It might still be nice to have some honey in your tea,” he says. Sirius takes the honey from you, paying for it while Remus takes your face in his hands. “Sweetheart, you really sound like it hurts to talk. It’s not going to get better because you’re trying to ignore it.” 

You sniffle. Your eyes are still watery from the sneeze, which Sirius suspects stung your sinuses more than you’ve let on. “It’s not that bad,” you try. 

“Don’t ever take to the stage.” Sirius kisses your head, taking your bag from you and putting the honey inside. “You’re a shit liar.” 

You scoff, and Remus hums amusedly. His thumb strokes over your cheek. “You feel like you have a fever,” he notes. “Let’s go home and see if we can’t get you feeling a bit better, hm?” 

“I can take care of—of myself,” you say, cut off when an unexpected cough spurts out of you. 

“Yes, and you’re clearly doing a marvelous job.” Sirius slips an arm around your waist to shepherd you toward the exit. You don’t fight him on it. “Why don’t you let us give it a try anyway, just for fun?”