#but the way the both weave them into their words and actions

[pin-k-ink]

labyrinth // illumi zoldyck

tw ⇢ stalking, obsessive behavior, dub-con, toxic relationship, violence(?), emotional manipulation kinda, implied captivity, porn with plot, unprotected sex, fingering, begging, childhood friends to lovers, illumi being delulu just as every character i write

wc ⇢ 6.8k

a/n: god i am weak for this man

The forest was your home, your little sanctuary. You'd practically grown up there, spending countless hours exploring its lush greenery and hidden trails. It was a place where you could escape from the grueling responsibilities and expectations placed upon you as a young assassin-in-training. And throughout all those years, you had always shared this special place with the only person who truly understood you and allowed you to be yourself: Illumi Zoldyck.

You recalled those early days with Illumi fondly, a time when he wasn't the cold-hearted killing machine he is now. Back then, he had been such a sweetheart, always looking out for you and making sure you were safe and happy. Whenever the two of you ventured deep into the forest and lost track of time, it was Illumi who would gently take your hand and lead you back home before the darkness fully settled in. He was the one who would pluck delicate flowers and weave them into your hair, his deft fingers working with surprising tenderness. And whenever you felt insecure or doubted your own beauty, Illumi was quick to reassure you, his genuine praise and adoration leaving you feeling cherished and loved.

Though he never admitted it out loud back then, to Illumi, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. His actions spoke louder than any words ever could.

Under Illumi's guidance and unwavering support, you flourished, growing into a more confident and capable version of yourself. He brought out the best in you, both as a person and as an assassin. However, looking back, you realized there were signs and hints of the darkness lurking within him that you hadn't fully grasped at the time.

Everything changed when Illumi went missing for nearly a year. His family, always fiercely protective of their own, refused to let you into their estate or divulge any information about his whereabouts. You were left to worry and wonder, your heart heavy with each passing day without any word from your dearest friend.

When Illumi finally returned to the forest, it was as if a stranger stood in his place. Gone was the warmth and affection that once shone in his eyes whenever he looked at you. Instead, his gaze was distant and cold, devoid of the spark that had made him so special to you. In its place was a cool, assessing gaze that seemed to look through you rather than at you. The innocent, carefree boy who used to fill your days with laughter and adventure had vanished, replaced by a hardened, unreadable man.

Despite the drastic change in Illumi's demeanor, you refused to give up on him. You clung to the hope that somewhere deep inside, the old Illumi still existed, buried beneath the layers of emotional detachment and rigorous training. You treated him with the same love and care as before, even though he no longer seemed to reciprocate in the same way.

Training with Illumi became a rarity, and when you finally convinced him to spar with you after months of pleading, it was evident that he was holding back, his movements restrained and calculated. Determined to prove yourself, you pushed harder, your pride fueling your desire to land a solid hit. In response, Illumi swiftly disarmed you, twisting your arm behind your back in a move that left you vulnerable and slightly pained.

The moment a small yelp escaped your lips, Illumi's demeanor shifted. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly, he was dropping his weapon and spinning you around to face him, his usually impassive face etched with concern. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice holding a trace of the old Illumi you remembered so fondly.

Without waiting for a response, he gathered you into his lap, his fingers gently skimming over your skin as he searched for any signs of injury. When his hand reached your wrist, the one he had twisted moments ago, you couldn't help but hold your breath as he raised it to his lips. With a tenderness that left you breathless, Illumi began to place soft, reverent kisses along your inner wrist, his mouth brushing over your pulse point before trailing over your palm and fingertips.

He paid special attention to each callus and bruise, his lips mapping out a path of worship across your battle-worn skin. It wasn't until you gently pulled your hand away, your face flushed and your heart racing, that he finally stopped.

"What the hell was that?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling slightly as you cradled your hand against your chest. Illumi, seemingly unfazed by the intimate moment, simply handed your weapons back to you and helped you to your feet, his expression once again unreadable.

After that incident, you no longer asked Illumi to train with you. Instead, he began to invite you along on missions, providing you with an escape from the constraints placed upon you by your own family, who still clung to the outdated belief that women had no place on the battlefield.

Illumi became your ticket to freedom, even if he himself remained emotionally distant. He would sneak into your room under the cover of darkness, whisking you away to far-off locations where you could put your skills to the test without fear of reprisal from your family.

The short missions he selected allowed you to return home by morning, and on the days when he had no assignments, Illumi would seek you out in the forest. Though your time together was no longer filled with training, you found solace in his presence as you poured out your heart to him, sharing the mundane details of your life.

As you talked, Illumi would often lay his head in your lap, his dark hair splayed out like a pool of ink against your thighs. You would card your fingers through the silky strands, marveling at how much he had changed and yet, in some ways, remained the same.

"You should grow it out," you murmured one day, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Illumi's eyes flickered open, their intensity catching you off guard as he stared up at you.

"You want me to grow out my hair?" he asked, his voice low and serious, as if your answer held the weight of the world.

"Y-yes?" you stammered, suddenly unsure of yourself under his unwavering gaze.

Months passed, and your routine with Illumi continued. It wasn't until one day, as he lay with his head nestled against your stomach, that you noticed his hair had grown past his shoulders, the ends brushing against your skin like whispers of silk.

"Your hair," you commented softly, your fingers threading through the lengthened strands. "It's gotten so long."

"You told me to grow it out," Illumi replied simply, as if that explained everything. And in a way, perhaps it did.

Along with the changes in his appearance, Illumi developed another habit. Whenever he went on missions without you, he would bring back small tokens – souvenirs of a sort, though they were far from the typical trinkets one might expect.

These mementos ranged from blood-stained lockets to priceless artifacts, each one a macabre reminder of the lives he had taken. Once, he even presented you with a family photograph, the smiling faces of his latest victims staring up at you from the glossy paper.

You had declined that particular offering, and Illumi had disappeared without a word. You worried that you had offended him, only to be startled awake late that night by a scratching sound at your window.

When you investigated, you found Illumi standing outside, a squirming bundle in his arms. He had gone back and kidnapped the family dog, presenting it to you with an air of solemn determination.

Though his actions were often baffling and his demeanor remained inscrutable, you couldn't help but find a certain charm in Illumi's unconventional displays of affection. It was clear that, in his own way, he still cared for you deeply.

But the true depth of your feelings for each other remained unspoken, buried beneath layers of duty and the weight of your shared history.

Then came the day that changed everything. After months of separation, you finally had the chance to see Illumi again, your heart brimming with news that you knew would alter the course of your lives forever.

With a voice that trembled despite your best efforts to keep it steady, you met Illumi's gaze and spoke the words that would shatter the fragile equilibrium you had built together:

"I'm getting married."

The words hung heavy in the air between you, a leaden weight that seemed to steal the very breath from your lungs. For a long moment, Illumi remained perfectly still, his dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your heart stutter in your chest.

"Married?" he repeated, his voice flat and emotionless, betraying none of the turmoil you were sure must be raging beneath the surface. "To whom?"

You swallowed hard, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap. "It's an arranged marriage," you explained, your words tumbling out in a rush. "My family... they've been planning it for months. I only just found out."

Illumi's gaze never wavered, his face an unreadable mask. "I see."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You longed to reach out to him, to bridge the sudden chasm that seemed to have opened up at your feet, but something held you back.

"Illumi," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I..."

But before you could continue, he was rising to his feet, his movements graceful and fluid despite the tension that radiated from every line of his body.

"Congratulations," he said, his tone clipped and formal. "I'm sure you'll make a lovely bride."

And with that, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the forest like a wraith. You sat there for a long time, your heart aching with a pain you couldn't quite name.

In the days that followed, you threw yourself into the preparations for your wedding, determined to push all thoughts of Illumi from your mind. But even as you selected flowers and tried on gowns, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right.

It wasn't until the night before your wedding, as you sat alone in your room, staring blankly at your reflection in the mirror, that a familiar figure appeared at your window.

Illumi slipped into your room as silently as a shadow, his dark eyes finding yours in the dim light. For a moment, you simply stared at each other, the weight of all that had been left unsaid hanging heavy in the air between you.

"I have a mission," Illumi said at last, his voice flat and emotionless. "I thought you might want to accompany me, for old times' sake."

You hesitated, your heart torn between the desire to be with him and the knowledge that you had a duty to fulfill. But in the end, the pull of your history together was too strong to resist.

"Alright," you agreed, rising to your feet. "But I need to be back before morning. I can't be late for my own wedding."

Illumi's expression remained impassive, but you thought you caught a flicker of something in his eyes - anger, perhaps, or pain. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he simply nodded, motioning for you to follow him out into the night.

As you made your way through the darkened streets, a sense of unease began to settle over you. Something about this mission felt different, though you couldn't quite put your finger on what it was.

It wasn't until you arrived at your destination - a small, nondescript apartment building on the outskirts of town - that you realized the truth.

"Illumi," you said slowly, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. "What are we doing here?"

He didn't answer, simply led you up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway. When he stopped in front of a door and produced a key from his pocket, you felt a sudden surge of panic.

"Illumi, what is this place?" you demanded, your voice rising in pitch. "What's going on?"

He turned to face you then, his expression as cold and remote as you had ever seen it. "This is your new home," he said simply. "You'll be staying here from now on."

You stared at him in disbelief, your mind reeling as you tried to make sense of his words. "What are you talking about? I can't stay here, I have a wedding to attend. I have a life to get back to."

Illumi's gaze bore into yours, a flicker of something dark and possessive in his eyes. "You don't have to go back," he said, his voice low and intense. "You can stay here, with me. We can be together, like I've always wanted."

A chill ran down your spine as the realization dawned on you. Illumi's feelings for you ran deeper than you had ever imagined, and now, he was trying to keep you here against your will.

"Illumi," you said, your voice trembling. "I care for you so much, but I don't love you. Not in the way you want me to."

For a moment, Illumi's mask slipped, and you caught a glimpse of the pain and desperation that lurked beneath the surface. But just as quickly, his expression hardened, and he took a step towards you.

"You will love me," he said, his voice quiet but filled with a chilling intensity. "In time, you'll see that this is where you belong. With me."

You backed away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Illumi, please, don't do this. Let me go."

But he shook his head, a small, humorless smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I can't do that," he said. "I've waited too long, wanted you for too long. I won't let you go now."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that you were trapped. Illumi had planned this all along, had lured you here under false pretenses so that he could keep you for himself.

As he advanced on you, his dark eyes glittering with a possessive light, you knew that you would have to find a way to escape. Because the man standing before you now was not the Illumi you had known and cared for.

Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out of this situation. Illumi stood between you and the door, his body language making it clear that he had no intention of letting you leave.

"Illumi, please, think about what you're doing," you pleaded, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. "This isn't right. You can't keep me here against my will."

But Illumi merely shook his head, his expression unwavering. "You'll understand in time," he said, his voice soft but unyielding. "This is for the best. For both of us."

He took a step towards you, and you instinctively backed away, your eyes darting around the room in search of an escape route. But there was nowhere to go, no way out except through the door that Illumi now blocked.

Desperation clawed at your throat as you realized the hopelessness of your situation. You had always thought of Illumi as your friend, someone you could trust and rely on. But now, as he stood before you, his eyes dark with a possessive hunger, you realized just how little you truly knew him.

"If you do this," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady, "you'll regret it. You'll lose me forever, Illumi. Is that really what you want?"

For a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes, a momentary hesitation that gave you a glimmer of hope. But then his jaw tightened, and he shook his head once more.

"I won't lose you," he said, his voice low and intense. "I can't lose you. You're mine, and I won't let anyone else have you."

He reached for you then, his hand closing around your wrist in an iron grip. You struggled against him, but it was no use - he was too strong, too determined.

As he dragged you deeper into the apartment, your heart sank with the realization that there would be no escape, no rescue. Illumi had planned this too well, had made sure that no one would come looking for you until it was too late.

And so, as Illumi pulled you into a small, dimly lit room and pushed you down onto a narrow bed, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, to clear your mind of the panic and fear that threatened to consume you.

As Illumi stood over you, his gaze intense and unwavering, you could sense the turmoil raging within him. For a brief moment, his eyes flickered to the small box on the nearby dresser, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. The Nen needles. A part of him desperately wanted to use them, to ensure that you would never leave his side.

But just as quickly as the thought had crossed his mind, Illumi dismissed it. He knew that you were too familiar with his technique, having learned it alongside him all those years ago. You would detect the needle's presence easily, and any trust that remained between you would be shattered irreparably.

Instead, Illumi sat down on the edge of the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a gentleness that caught you off guard. "I don't want to force you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to choose to stay with me."

Despite the fear and confusion swirling within you, you couldn't help but lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. When you opened them again, Illumi was watching you intently, his gaze filled with a longing that made your heart ache.

In the days that followed, a strange sort of routine developed between you and Illumi. He would leave early in the mornings, off to attend to his duties as an assassin, but he always made sure to return by nightfall. You spent your days exploring the small apartment, marveling at the care and attention to detail Illumi had put into creating this space for you.

There were bookshelves lined with your favorite novels, a closet filled with clothes tailored to your exact measurements, a room filled with all the souvenirs Illumi brought you, and a kitchen stocked with all of your favorite foods. It was as if Illumi had been studying you for years, memorizing every little detail about you.

At night, he would cook dinner for the two of you, his movements precise and graceful as he navigated the kitchen. You would sit at the counter, watching him work, and for a moment, lost in the domesticity of it all, you could almost forget the circumstances that had brought you here.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to Illumi in ways you had never expected. He was attentive and gentle, always seeming to know exactly what you needed before you even had to ask. He would hold you close at night, his arms wrapped around you as you drifted off to sleep, and in those moments, you could almost believe that this was where you truly belonged.

But then the morning would come, and reality would come crashing back down around you. You were still a prisoner, still trapped in this apartment with a man who refused to let you go. And no matter how tender his touch or how sweet his words, you knew that you could never truly be happy here.

One night, as you lay in bed beside him, Illumi turned to you, his eyes searching your face in the dim light. "Do you think you could ever love me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, your heart constricting painfully in your chest. "I don't know," you answered honestly, your voice trembling slightly. "I care for you, Illumi. I always have. But this... this isn't love. This is something else entirely."

Illumi was silent for a long moment, his gaze never leaving yours. When he finally spoke again, his voice was soft and tinged with a sadness that made your heart ache. "I know," he said. "But I can't let you go. I won't."

And with those words, you knew that your fate was sealed. You were bound to Illumi, now and forever, trapped in a twisted love story that could only end in heartbreak. But even as despair threatened to overwhelm you, a small part of you clung to the hope that someday, somehow, you would find a way to break free.

Until then, you would endure. You would survive. And you would never stop fighting for the life you had always dreamed of, even if it meant leaving behind the man who had once been your everything.

You seized your chance on a crisp autumn morning, slipping out of the apartment while Illumi was away on a mission. Your heart raced as you navigated the unfamiliar streets, every shadow and sound making you jump with fear. But beneath the terror was a flicker of hope, a small, stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished.

For days, you ran, never staying in one place for too long. You knew Illumi would be searching for you, his skills as an assassin making him a formidable pursuer. But you were determined to outmaneuver him, to find a way to disappear and start anew.

As the weeks turned into months, you began to breathe a little easier. You found work in a small town, renting a tiny apartment under an assumed name. Slowly, you started to build a life for yourself, one free from the suffocating weight of Illumi's obsession.

But even as you tried to move on, thoughts of Illumi never strayed far from your mind. In quiet moments, you would find yourself wondering where he was, what he was doing. A part of you missed him desperately, longing for the comfort of his embrace and the familiar rhythm of your life together.

You tried to push those feelings aside, to remind yourself of the fear and desperation you had felt in those final days at the apartment. But late at night, when the world was still and silent, you would sometimes allow yourself to imagine a different life, one where Illumi's love for you wasn't tainted by darkness and obsession.

Miles away, Illumi was unraveling. The apartment felt empty and cold without you, every room a reminder of your absence. He spent his days searching for you, his nights poring over maps and surveillance footage, desperate for any clue that might lead him to you.

As the years passed, his obsession only grew. He became a ghost, a shadow of his former self, his every waking moment consumed by the need to find you. His family watched with mild interest, whispering amongst themselves about the toll your disappearance had taken on him.

But Illumi barely noticed them, his mind fixed solely on you. He replayed every moment of your time together, analysing every conversation for hidden meanings, every gesture for signs he might have missed. He cursed himself for not using the Nen needles when he had the chance, for not ensuring that you could never leave his side.

In his darkest moments, he would imagine finding you, dragging you back to the apartment and never letting you go. He would make you understand, he told himself. He would make you see that you belonged with him, that your love for each other was something rare and precious, worth fighting for.

But as more time passed with no sign of you, a small, insidious doubt began to creep into Illumi's mind. What if you truly didn't love him? What if all of his efforts, all of his sacrifices, had been for nothing? The thought was too painful to bear, and so he pushed it aside, burying himself even deeper in his search for you.

It was on a moonless night, as you lay in your bed, that you sensed his presence. Your heart raced as you sat up, your eyes straining to see in the darkness. And there he was, standing in the shadows, his gaze fixed upon you with an intensity that stole your breath.

"Illumi," you whispered, your voice trembling. "How did you find me?"

He moved towards you, his footsteps silent on the hardwood floor. "I never stopped searching," he said softly, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. "I couldn't let you go."

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest of moments. When you opened them again, Illumi's face was mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin.

And then, before you could even think to resist, he was kissing you. His lips were soft and insistent, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer. For a moment, you lost yourself in the sensation, your body melting against his as years of pent-up longing and desire came rushing to the surface.

But as Illumi's hands began to roam, sliding beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown, a flicker of unease stirred within you. Something about his touch felt different, almost clinical in its precision.

And then, with a sudden, sickening jolt of realization, you understood. The Nen needle. Illumi was trying to use one of his needles on you, to bend your will to his own and ensure that you would never leave his side again.

Panic surged through you, and you wrenched yourself away from him, your heart pounding in your chest. "No," you gasped, backing away from the bed. "I won't let you do this to me."

Illumi's eyes narrowed, his hand still outstretched. "Y/N, please," he said, his voice low and urgent. "I love you. I just want us to be together."

But you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. "This isn't love, Illumi," you said, your voice breaking. "This is obsession. And I won't be a prisoner to it any longer."

With those words, you turned and fled, racing out of the apartment and into the night. You ran blindly, your feet carrying you through the darkened streets, your mind reeling with the horror of what had almost happened.

You didn't know how long you ran, or how far. But when you finally came to a stop, your lungs burning and your legs aching, you found yourself in a place you hadn't seen in years.

The forest. The place where you and Illumi had first met, where you had spent countless hours together as children, exploring and dreaming and falling in love.

The forest was a blur of green and brown as you ran, your feet pounding against the damp earth, your lungs burning with each ragged breath. The trees seemed to close in around you, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers, as if trying to hold you back, to keep you from escaping.

You risked a glance over your shoulder, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was there, somewhere in the shadows, tracking your every move. You had always known it would come to this, that he would never let you go, not really.

The leaves rustled overhead, a whisper of sound that made your skin prickle with fear. Was it just the wind, or was it something else, something more sinister? You forced yourself to keep moving, to focus on the path ahead, on the faint promise of safety that lay beyond the trees.

But even as you ran, you could feel his presence, like a weight pressing down on you, a shadow that clung to your every step. He was relentless, unstoppable, a force of nature that would never rest until he had you in his grasp.

You had thought you could outsmart him, that you could outrun your past and start anew. But now, as the forest closed in around you and the sound of his footsteps echoed in your ears, you realized the terrible truth.

He would always be there, lurking in the darkness, waiting for you. And no matter how far you ran, no matter how hard you tried to escape, you would never truly be free.

The snap of a twig behind you made your heart lurch in your chest. You whirled around, your eyes wide with terror, searching the shadows for any sign of movement. But there was nothing, only the endless sea of trees and the suffocating silence of the forest.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm the frantic pounding of your heart. You had to keep going, to push yourself harder, faster. You couldn't let him catch you, couldn't let him drag you back to the life you had fought so hard to escape.

But even as you turned to run again, you couldn't shake the feeling that it was already too late. That no matter what you did, no matter how fast you ran, he would always be right behind you, a shadow that would never let you go.

You pushed yourself harder, your muscles screaming in protest as you tore through the underbrush. Branches whipped at your face, leaving stinging cuts on your cheeks, but you barely felt the pain. All that mattered was getting away, putting as much distance between yourself and him as possible.

But then, in a cruel twist of fate, your foot caught on a gnarled root, sending you sprawling to the ground. You hit the earth hard, the breath knocked from your lungs, your ankle twisting painfully beneath you. You tried to scramble to your feet, but your leg wouldn't support your weight, and you fell back to the ground with a cry of pain.

Fear coursed through your veins like ice water as you heard the sound of footsteps approaching, steady and unhurried. You crawled forward, dragging yourself through the dirt and leaves, desperate to put some distance between yourself and your pursuer. But it was no use.

A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and slender, with long black hair that fell like a curtain around his face. Illumi looked down at you, his expression calm and unreadable, as if he were merely out for a leisurely stroll in the woods.

His voice smooth and cold as silk. "You didn't really think you could run from me, did you?"

You stared up at him, your heart pounding in your throat, your body trembling with a mix of fear and exhaustion. "Illumi," you whispered, your voice barely more than a rasp. "Please, just let me go."

He crouched down beside you, his movements graceful and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. "Now why would I do that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "You belong to me, Y/N. You always have."

He reached out, his long fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw. You flinched away from his touch, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. He had you trapped, and you both knew it.

"I've been searching for you for so long," Illumi murmured, his eyes boring into yours. "You've led me on quite the chase. But it ends here, Y/N. You're coming back with me, where you belong."

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "No," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't go back. I won't."

Illumi's lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it, no mercy. "You don't have a choice," he said softly. "You never did."

He reached for you then, his hands closing around your arms like steel bands, dragging you to your feet. You struggled against him, but it was like fighting against a wall of stone. He was too strong, too fast, too ruthless.

As he pulled you through the forest, his grip unyielding, you felt a sense of dread settle over you. You knew where he was taking you - back to the Zoldyck estate, back to the life you had fought so hard to escape.

The house loomed before you, a dark, foreboding presence amidst the trees. Illumi dragged you inside, ignoring your protests and pleas for mercy. He pulled you up the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the silence, until you reached his room.

He pushed you inside, locking the door behind him with a soft click. You stumbled, your injured ankle throbbing with pain, and collapsed onto the bed, your chest heaving with exertion and fear.

Illumi stood over you, his eyes glittering with a possessive light. "This is where you belong, Y/N," he said, his voice soft and dangerous. "With me, forever. And I'll make sure you never forget it again."

You closed your eyes, a sob catching in your throat as you realized the hopelessness of your situation. Illumi would never let you go, never allow you to escape the twisted love he had mistaken for devotion.

And as he lowered himself onto the bed on top you, his hands reaching for your wrists once more, you knew that your fate was sealed. You belonged to him, body and soul.

Your fate was sealed. Your freedom was gone. And there was no escape.

The weight of Illumi's body pressed down upon you, pinning you to the soft mattress beneath. His scent enveloped you, a heady mix of cologne and something uniquely him - dangerous, alluring, inescapable. In the dim light of the room, his eyes gleamed with a dark intensity, boring into your very soul.

"Please..."

But Illumi's hands were already on your wrists, his long fingers encircling them like shackles, holding you in place. His lips found yours, demanding and possessive, stealing the very breath from your lungs. You could feel the heat of his skin against your own, the racing of his heart as it beat in tandem with yours.

There was no escaping his love, no denying the depth of his feelings for you. It had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to consume you both.

"I love you," Illumi murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

It was a confession, a plea, a desperate attempt to make you understand. He loved you more than anything, more than anyone. His love was a force of nature, all-encompassing and inescapable, and it would never let you go.

And even as you lay there, trapped beneath him, a part of you understood. Deep down, in a place you had tried so hard to deny, you knew that your own feelings for him ran just as deep.

It wasn't just obsession that bound you together.

It was love.

True, twisted, all-consuming love.

The kind that could never be let go of, the kind that would follow you into the afterlife.

Illumi's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. His touch was gentle now, almost reverent, as if he were handling the most precious thing in the world.

"I love you, too,"

And as Illumi's mouth claimed yours once more, as his hands began to roam over your body with a fevered urgency, you knew that there was no going back. You were his, and he was yours, bound together by a love that defied reason and logic.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the years you had spent running from him, not the life you had tried so hard to build without him. All that existed was the feel of his skin against yours, the heat of his breath mingling with your own, the overwhelming sensation of being loved so completely, so fiercely, that it burned away everything else.

You surrendered to him then, your body arching against his, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The world outside ceased to exist, fading away until there was nothing left but the two of you, lost in a passion that consumed you both.

And so, as Illumi's hands slid beneath your clothes, as his lips traced a burning path down your neck, you gave yourself to him completely. You surrendered to the love that had bound you together, the love that had haunted your every waking moment.

Your heart raced, your breath coming in short gasps as he explored your body with a desperation that matched your own. The last vestiges of your sanity were torn away as Illumi's fingers dipped between your legs, stroking your clit with a skill and precision that left you reeling. He dipped his fingers inside you, his lips sucking another mark onto your collarbone, letting out a soft groan as he feels your tight, velvety walls squeeze around his fingers.

You cried out his name, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His touch was overwhelming, but it wasn't enough. You needed more, needed to feel him, needed him to consume you.

As if reading your mind, Illumi's fingers curled inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your head fell back, and you arched against him, desperate for release. He picked up the pace, sinking his teeth onto your jugular just as begins to drill his fingers into your sopping wet pussy, the soft squelches emanating throughout the room.

Illumi pulled away, and you felt a twinge of disappointment. But it was soon replaced by anticipation as you watched him undress. His body was a thing of beauty, lean and powerful, his skin smooth and flawless. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes slowly traveled lower, fixing on the faint trial of black hair growing beneath his navel, disappearing below the waistband of his pants.

"Illumi," you whispered, reaching out to him. "Please."

He was on you in an instant, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. His hands roamed your body, teasing and tormenting, leaving you aching for more. He moved down, his tongue tracing the curves of your breasts, the hollow of your navel, the juncture of your thighs.

You trembled with desire, your need for him growing with every passing second.

"Illumi, I can't... I can't take it anymore," you gasped, your body on fire.

He rose above you, his dark eyes glittering with passion. He reached down and stroked his cock, and you could see that translucent droplet of precum pearling at the tip.

"Say it again," he growled, his voice husky with desire.

"I can't take it anymore," you repeated, barely able to get the words out.

"You want me," he said, a statement, not a question.

"Yes, yes, I want you."

With a groan, Illumi entered you, filling you completely. You clung to him, your legs wrapping around his hips, your body arching against his.

It was as if you were made for each other, your bodies fitting together perfectly, the friction between you building with every thrust. Your moans mingled, your breath coming in ragged gasps, as you raced toward the peak of pleasure.

Then, as Illumi's hand reached between your bodies to stroke your clit again, the dam finally broke, and you fell over the edge, crying out his name. Your body shook, your muscles tensed, as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Illumi's climax was just as intense, his hips thrusting against yours as he spilled himself inside you. His hands gripped your hips, his body trembling with the force of his release.

In that moment, there was nothing but the two of you, bound together by love and desire. It was everything you had dreamed of and more.

"I love you."

[duckiemimi]

gojo “my one and only” satoru / gojo “welcome home” satoru / gojo “as long as you come back to me” satoru / gojo “as long as you come back home” satoru / gojo “i’m always soft for you” satoru / gojo “a decade and forever” satoru

how many ways can a man (because he is just a man) say “i love you?”

(on geto’s part, at least, it’s in one name. satoru. satoru, satoru, satoru.)

[girlygguk]

denial - jjk (18+)

➵ summary; it's been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his award shows, and 2 am 'you up?' texts during your year-long situationship with jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you're crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night. trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. jungkook sees, and he's mad.

➵ pairing ; idol!jk x (f)actress!reader

➵ word count ; 5.3k

➵ rating ; 18+ minors dni

➵ content ; jealous (& possessive 🫣) asffff kook, mutual no strings agreement / fwb au, older (just a lil) reader, taehyung sister reader, secret-ish situashionship, smut/fluff-ish/angst-ish, this is FILTHYY i even shocked myself.

➵ warnings ; teasing, swearing, kissing, fingering, spitting, nipple play, dom!jk, oral sex (f rec.), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap it UP. don't be silly), sexy stuff starts a lil later on in the story so basically pwp.

a/n ; while i'm working on the next chap of my fic i come bearing a gift! this is a oneshot but if y'all enjoy it i have a bunch of ideas for this pairing i could work on and maybe make an additional part! thanks sm for reading, hope u enjoy <3 also this is my first time writing smut, so any feedback is insanely appreciated and encouraged! mwah

Jungkook's room was quiet, the only noise being his soft humming as his thumb dragged down the expanse of his phone screen, scrolling mindlessly through his private Instagram feed. He's already passed a few of his bandmates' photo dumps, leaving a like on a few and a teasing, sarcastic comment on the others. But, then, smirking at his remarks that he finds absolutely priceless, his thumb grinds to a halt as he comes across your latest post.

There you are, in all of your glory. You're posing prettily with an overfilled cup of ice cream from a popular parlour in Seoul Central. A spoon rests against your lips; eyes closed gingerly for the snap. The side of Jungkook's mouth pulls upwards before he can stop it, a soft, dazed smile coating his lips as he stares at you for longer than he'd like to admit. However, the daze ends as abruptly as it began when his focus shifts to the person seated on your left. He recognizes the guy sitting next to you as the leading male in your latest drama, Jae something. 

A hot, uncomfortable feeling bubbles in the pit of Jungkook's stomach as he stares at the classically attractive male in your photo. The feeling intensifies tenfold when he notices the spoon clasped in Jae something's hand, and his eyes search every pixel on his phone screen, begging to find this dirtbag's own cup of ice cream. Finally, he scoffs after scouting every inch of your photo for the third time. So you're really sharing a cup of ice cream with this guy? And it's not even for work. And you posted a picture of it on your Instagram. Your public Instagram.

Jealousy claws at Jungkook's throat with vigour, and he has to lock his phone and put it next to him on his bed before he stands up and hurls it at the wall. Of course, he knows he shouldn't and has no right to be jealous. But he can't help it. He can't control his actions and feelings when it comes to you. He's been infatuated since day one, and though you both have the mutual no-strings agreement as your blooming careers don't allow you the time or freedom to commit to something like that right now, he can't help but feel fucking sick looking at the photo of you and someone else.

The stadium is boisterous; fans hastily rush to get to their seats in the various sections surrounding the stage as if the concert would start without them. You were currently on your way backstage to visit your brother before the show began. After five minutes of weaving around equipment and dodging the stressed crew rushing around doing last-minute preparations, you finally arrived at your destination.

Knocking thrice on the dressing room door, a muffled "Come in!" has you twisting the handle and walking through the threshold with a cheesy grin. The seven men you've been good friends with since your brother introduced you come into view as you enter the room, each of them beaming a mixture of greetings.

"Happy first show!" You exclaim as you walk towards your brother with a bouquet of mixed flowers. Taehyung takes the gift from you with a smile before placing a kiss on your forehead as thanks.

Jungkook's eyes haven't left you since you stepped foot in their dressing room. He swallows harshly, hoping to rehydrate his mouth as all his saliva has apparently decided to dissipate. Jungkook takes in your outfit, the short Chanel dress hugging the curves of your body and showcasing your smooth, slender legs. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he suppresses his smirk when he sees the long-sleeved white undertop you're wearing. Images of you withering beneath him as he marked the top of your breasts a few nights ago flash through his mind, and he has to blink a few times in an attempt to return back to Earth.

Your gaze meets Jungkook's for a split second, watching him drink in your figure before you look back at the rest of the guys with a smile. Then, stepping back to your original position after breaking from the hug with your brother, your arms motion towards the man that you dragged in with you. "This is my friend, Jae Lee."

That's enough to crash Jungkook back down to Earth as his focus shifts to the tall brunette on your right. Jae Lee offers a quick bow with a smile as the rest of BTS chorus a polite greeting in return. "Nice to meet you guys; I'm a big fan." His voice is deep and rugged, just like it is in the drama he starred in with you. The drama that Jungkook binged in one sitting on release day, but he wouldn't tell you that.

"Likewise," Tae returns with a nod and his signature toothy grin before setting the flowers on the tabletop by one of the mirrors, "we're on in ten—do you know where your seats are?"

You nod at your younger brother's question, patting the pocket of Jae's faded jeans, "Jae's got our passes; we'll go there now and let you guys finish getting ready."

Jungkook is fucking fuming at this point as he watches the interaction, tongue pushing against his lower teeth to stop himself from spewing something that would embarrass the both of you.

You bid them one final good luck before spinning on your heel and exiting the room, a cloud of your sweet perfume trains behind you in your departure, invading Jungkook's senses and rendering him dazed as Jae follows you closely, shutting the door gently behind him.

"God, you guys were insane." You arrived back at your brother's apartment (that he shared with Jungkook) a few minutes ago, the three of you piling through the door as you beelined straight for the couch. "Hoseok has the stamina of a horse, I swear. I'm always shocked whenever I watch you guys perform."

Taehyung laughs from behind you as he shrugs off his jacket before jumping over the back of the couch and landing next to you with a huff. His best friend opts for a different route after ridding himself of his coat, walking into the kitchen to grab a drink of water and hopefully clear his head a bit. 

It's bad enough that he had a foggy grey cloud glooming in the back of his mind during the concert, but then he had to sit in an enclosed vehicle with you and your brother on the way home because Tae wanted to spend more time with you. Of course, Jungkook doesn't blame his friend; you have a week off before your next shoot, and you're headed to Gwacheon in a couple of days to get settled in. Usually, you and Jungkook would be utilizing this time off in a very different way, but unbeknownst to you, Jungkook is not in the mood right now. And he's always in the mood.

The bottle of water is downed in seconds, and the crunch of the now-empty plastic bottle in his hand pulls him out of his thoughts. Stepping on the pedal of the garbage can, he disposes of the rubbish and listens to the sound of soft padded footsteps entering the kitchen.

"You needa put that in the recycling bin."

Your teasing is gentle as you approach the ink-covered man, brushing past him lightly as you lean against the island opposite him. His lips pull into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and your eyebrows furrow, leg lifting slightly to nudge him with your sock-covered foot.

"What's wrong, grumpy?" You poke, watching as he shakes his head before pushing off the counter and heading out of the kitchen. Your hand reaches out for him a liiiitle too quickly before he can slink away, "Kook? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, ____. I'm good. Exhausted from the show, that's all." He removes his hand gently from your grasp before continuing his departure and leaving you in the kitchen by yourself. A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you head back to the living room, not surprised when your brother is the only one there.

"I'm going to go and pick up the pizza; they shut in 20, and delivery's off for the night," Taehyung informs you as he chucks his jacket back on, "Kook's headed to bed, so we'll just save him some."

You nod at him before falling back onto the couch and reaching for the TV remote. "Drive safe," you call, and he assures you he will, the sound of the apartment door shutting behind him echoing in your ears. That's all you need to hear before you carelessly throw the remote aside and scramble off the couch towards a certain grumpy cat's bedroom.

"Koo?" Your tone is soft, one hand on the door handle of his room, the other rapping gently at the wood.

His low hum from the other side reaches your ears, and you twist the handle, stepping inside quietly before closing the door and leaning against it. You're not entirely sure how to approach this situation. Most of your interactions with the gorgeous man sitting at the edge of his bed with a somber look have had quite a different vibe. Extremely fucking different.

"Tae's gone to pick up dinner, " you try, "I'd say like twenty minutes or so."

He sighs and nods at your obvious hinting, lifting his gaze from the ground and watching as you saunter towards him. The little black dress he first saw earlier today still has him rattled, and your scent getting more robust with each step you take enhances his stupor. You lift one of your legs over his thigh when you reach him, the bottom of your dress riding up as you settle in his lap. 

Shoving his dreary subconscious to the side, Jungkook leans forward into you before burying his face into your clothed stomach and inhaling as deeply as he can. Your stupifying, sweet, familiar scent invades his nostrils, and he knows he can always count on that to distract himself. You run your hands through his hair with a mewl as his head rises at an achingly slow pace before it's level with yours. 

His eyes are hooded as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his own, and you drink in the soft moan that escapes him when your fingers clutch his hair tighter in your grasp. His mouth is sinful, his tongue delving deeper into your mouth to connect with your own. Instead of your usual teasing fight for dominance, you let Jungkook take control of the kiss, hoping it will soothe the unease you've noticed in his demeanour as of late.

His hands are gliding over your hips, fingers squeezing at the meat of your middle, and you can't help but purr at the feeling, almost as if he's trying to grab as much of your body in his hands as he can. Suddenly the reminder that your brother would be home at any moment returned to your mind, and you reluctantly broke the connection. Climbing off his lap, your feet shakily meet the floor, and your hands reach for the hem of your dress, ready to slip it over your head before you notice the look on his face. He's fighting another internal battle, and it makes you release the fabric in your hands, your dress falling back into place.

"Please tell me what's wrong, Kookie." You mumble, standing in front of him with your hands slumped to your side in defeat. He blows out a quiet breath, shaking his head for what feels like the fifth time tonight before he reaches out for you. Finally, you give in with a deflated sigh, letting him pull you close towards him before he continues your previous actions and clutches the hem of your dress. Dragging the fabric up slowly, he lets it ride just above your stomach before he uses one hand to slip your panties down your legs.

Your eyes flutter shut as the finger hooked into the waistband of your underwear drags across your inner thigh on its journey downwards, his other hand still full of your dress, the thumb on said hand rubbing soft circles against your skin. "Are you together?"

Your eyes snap open at his question, still in a hazy fog from his touches but coherent enough to make out the undertone of his question. His hand doesn't falter in the slightest, your panties hitting the ground with a soft thud, and he drags his hand back up the underside of your thigh when they fall. "No."

So you knew who he was talking about, he thought. "Hm," is all he mutters, the hand on your hamstring bending you at the knee and pulling you abruptly onto his lap. You swallow a yelp as he guides you back over him, unable to help the motion of your hips grinding down when you feel him through his sweatpants.

The feeling that brews inside you when your now bare heat brushes against the fabric of his pants is euphoric, the small wet patch you leave behind being first-hand proof. "10 minutes," you remind in a whisper, leaning forward to attach your lips again, needing additional contact with him more than your next breath.

Jungkook ends the kiss quickly, and it has you pouting when he pulls away. He reaches between you, shoving his sweats and underwear down in one motion, his erection jutting out on demand and hitting his stomach once free. He leans back a little but doesn't allow himself to lie down entirely, and you usher him backwards before his grip on your waist tightens, and you stop your action. You look at him in confusion, his intoxicating chocolate brown eyes lifting from where you're seated to meet your gaze. "Sit on it."

Your breath catches in your throat at his demand, but you follow it nonetheless, his readjustment allowing you to plant your knees on the bed and lean forward slightly. You look down for a split second to grasp at his hardened length resting against his stomach and guide it to where you need it most. You look up before letting it enter you, your eyes flickering over his face and realizing he's already staring at you. He doesn't say anything verbally, but his features give everything away without the need to. 

Jungkook leans forward, his hands sliding around your stomach before they reach your back. The flats of his palms cover almost the entirety of your back as his head falls into the crook of your neck. He places a single restrained kiss on your sweet spot, his lips finding it easily as they've visited the area hundreds of times. "Baby," he mutters into your neck, "sit."

And you do.

You finish lining up the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole before letting go and fully sinking onto him. The mangled breath that he chokes into the crook of your neck paints a devilish smirk on your lips, waiting until you feel his entire length submerge into you before lifting up and slamming back down, harder.

His breathing is heavy as his hands slide down your back before resting on your ass and grabbing a gluttonous handful when you rise. A strangled moan escapes your lips as he squeezes, spreading your cheeks and listening to the elicit sound of your walls sucking him in. You throw your head back in ecstasy, your clit throbbing every time it comes in contact with his balls, the feeling igniting a fire in your belly, arousal coursing through every cell in your body.

"Fucking. Hell," Jungkook curses; his eyes are slits as he glances down at his lap, watching your centre swallow him whole and mercilessly. He lifts one of his hands to his mouth, tongue swirling around his thumb before it presses against your clit, rubbing against it expertly and causing you to spew another strangled moan. "That's it, baby," his tone is low and filthy, and your hands grab onto his shoulders to balance yourself as the pleasure is getting too much.

His torture on your clit doesn't stop, not even when your hips stutter momentarily, the abuse to your cunt pulling at the rubber band holding you together harder and harder with each passing moment. "Stop playing with my clit," you cry, "or I'll fucking cum."

You almost regret opening your mouth because his hand pulls back instantly, and a soft whine leaves you at the loss of contact. You don't think twice before lifting your hips again, about to resume your action of riding him, when all of a sudden, he lifts you slightly, flipping you around until your back hits the mattress. "Wha—" your excuse of a question is cut off abruptly when he kneels down and drags you closer to the edge of the bed, mouth attaching to your clit with vigour.

"Fuck. Fuck." Is all you can mutter, your hands automatically going to his head, fingers threading through his hair and tugging when his tongue hits that part of your cunt that blurs your vision. Jungkook is lost in it, his tongue wrapping around your clit, relishing in the moans spilling from you. Lifting his head slightly, he gathers the saliva in his mouth before he spits on your pussy and dives back in. "What the fuck," you scream as he devours you like he's on death row and your cunt is his last meal, "Gguk—"

"I know, baby," he nods after pulling away for a split second, "just let go." He punctuates his words by sliding a finger, and then two, into your hole, and that's the knot in the fucking noose. His fingers are relentless, pushing all the way into you until they reach that spongey part before sliding out and repeating the same torturous routine. He knows you're close; he knows everything about you at this point. He's proven right when he feels your walls clench around his fingers and shoves his face deeper into your heat in response. His nose is buried in your cunt, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit feverishly, and you lose it. Your moans are silent, your throat not having the power to produce noise anymore as your eyes roll to the back of your head. "Baby," you manage, "I'm fucking cumming."

Jungkook moans into your pussy; its vibration is the tipping point as your vision blurs, flashing white as your orgasm washes over you. Your knees shake, closing around his head as he doesn't relent, your body convulsing and grinding into his mouth as he works you through your orgasm. 

Your head is slumped against the pillow as you crash back down to Earth, Jungkook eventually pulling away from your core as you shudder, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh as he detaches from you. Pulling himself up, he makes his way onto the bed, lowering his strong body over you. He's hungry on his journey upwards, lips dragging against every inch of your skin, his tongue dipping out to wet them when the skin of your leg absorbs their moisture. He explores your stomach, his bunny teeth grazing against your belly button as he gets higher. It looks like he's where he wants to be when he's levelled with your chest. He pulls at the dress that you're honestly still surprised that he's left on you for this long before he lifts it over your head, chucking it to the side without another thought. A grunt leaves his lips when the white long-sleeve you had on under your dress is still there, and he rids it the same, just with more furrowed brows.

A giggle leaves your lips at his frustration before it's replaced with a content sigh as he latches onto your left nipple. Your hand runs through his dishevelled hair; lip caught between your teeth as his tongue wraps around the bud, his teeth grazing at it softly. "T-Taehyung will be back soon," you warn through a moan, "need you inside of me."

A string of spittle drags from your nipple and his mouth as he pulls back, his head tilting slightly as his gaze catches yours. "Still needy," he hums, leaning forward and pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before lifting his hips and grabbing hold of his hardened length. He drags it between your wet folds, the sound of your slickened cunt music to his ears. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasm, but the need to feel him inside you outweighs the overstimulation.

"Beg for it." He says simply, the length of his shaft still firmly in his hand as he drags it through your sticky folds. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows ruffled in astonishment as you stare at the cocky piece of shift above you.

"Jun—" you start, "beg for it." He finishes, his focus lifting from where you're almost conjoined to your face. His face is hard, and you know better than to fight him on this. Your breaths come out shortly; his tone should not be turning you on this much.

"Please." You mewl, your chest heaving once as he presses his cock deeper into folds, not quite yet at the hole you need him to fill. "Please, Jungkook. Fuck me. Fuck me. Ruin me." You spit, losing all sense of self-worth as the heaviness of his lower body against you turns you into a pathetic mess.

His smirk is taunting. It's the last thing you see before your eyes roll back to the back of your head, a disgustingly loud moan booming from your throat as he thrusts into you with one motion. A strangled gasp blows from your lips as he pulls out before slamming back into you twice as hard. Sweat is gathering at the base of his brows, a moan of his own chorusing with yours as he slams his cock deeper with each thrust. You're at a loss for words as the pleasure intensifies, the coil in your stomach bubbling ferociously for the second time tonight. "Does he fuck you this good?" He can't stop himself, the words spluttering from his lips before he has a chance to stop them.

He's leaning a little further back now, his hand pressing against your belly slightly, feeling the motion of his cock sliding into you through your fucking skin. How he expects you to respond right now is beyond you, the only noise you can possibly muster being a high-pitched screech as his pace increases. "Huh?" He spits, spreading your legs wider, lowering slightly to delve his cock deeper into your cunt.

"No." It comes out as a mixture of a gasp and a moan, "Nobody fucks me like you do." A stupid wave of relief rushes over him as he hears you speak, the sound of your squelching walls suctioning him in parading through the room. Your assurance ignites something inside him, and you're surprised you can keep your eyes open long enough to see the transformation. He secures one of your legs around his waist, his hand holding your other open as he plants one of his knees firmly on the bed. He stares at your pussy in awe, watching your clit glisten with slickness before spitting harshly at it; his thumb reaching down to spread it over you. A choked sob leaves your lips at the action before an even louder scream cuts it off; you don't even recognize your own voice.

Jungkook is ravenous. His hips are pulling back at record speed, every inch of his cock sliding out of you until just the tip remains before slamming back inside brutally. "Oh my fucking god, Jungkook!" You screech as he hits that spot deep inside you on every thrust like he's been training for this his whole life.

"You fucking love it, don't you? This what you wanted?" He spits as his cock splits you in two, "You know I hate seeing people touch what's mine. Knew I'd fucking lose it."

"He never touched me. Wouldn't let him." You choke, your back lifting slightly as you feel him push in just that much deeper at your words, "I'm fucking yours, idiot."

Jungkook's hips stutter as your words catch him off guard, cracking his cocky persona for a millisecond before he recovers and grips the meat of your thighs even harder and drills back into you. You're fucking dripping at this point, and Jungkook groans at the feeling. His cock drags the juices out of your hole, and he watches as it slides down your ass, filthily pooling at the sheets beneath you.

You can't do anything but reach your hands out, and he understands immediately, releasing the hold on your legs before leaning down and falling into your arms. Your hands are on the back of his neck as you pull him closer, needing to feel his full weight on top of you in hopes of it taking some of the pressure off your abused cunt. He doesn't stop, even when his face falls to the side of your neck, plastering soft, wet kisses to your skin and pulling a soft moan from you.

Tears are welling in your eyes as he continues snapping his hips into you; the new position you're in means he's permanently in contact with your clit, and it's brutal. The room begins to spin as the familiar feeling coils in your stomach harder than you think it ever has. "I'm so fucking close," he heaves into your neck, and all you can respond with is a nod, the tears that pool at your waterline threatening to spill.

Your hands fall from his hair to his back, fingernails digging into his smooth skin as you try to cling to the last string of coherence you have, "cum in me, Gguk. Fill me up. Fill me." You moan, fingernails dragging down his back just how he likes it, and that's his fucking end. A low growl leaves his lips, goosebumps flooding your arms at the noise. 

"Fuck." He curses loudly, hips pulling back in one final shaky thrust before he pushes all the way, your walls clenching tightly around him as he convulses, his release spilling from him and painting the walls of your cunt. He moans tenderly as you milk his cock, trying to pull every last drop of his orgasm from him.

Ten seconds or so pass while you both catch your breath, and you smile giddily beneath him; his heavy body feels comforting on top of you, like your own weighted blanket. You're ready to roll off the bed once he recovers, your hand drawing lazy circles across the expanse of his back before you hear him let out a deep, heaved breath. Lifting his hips back up, he ruts gently, resuming his movement inside of you. Your eyebrows furrow in shock, ignoring the burning feeling that immediately resurfaces as he shifts, "No, Jungkook, you don't have to—" He cuts you off with a kiss, hand reaching up to caress your cheek in a much softer manner than the majority of your night.

"When have I ever not let you cum?" He muses after breaking the kiss, his thumb slipping from the edge of your jaw to press against your lips. Your heart is beating at the fucking sweetheart above you, your lips parting slightly to take in the finger of his inked, calloused hand into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, gathering as much spit onto it as you can, just as he taught you, before using your tongue to push it out of your mouth. He smirks at the action, shaking his head as a train of saliva runs from his hand to your mouth. "Fucking filthy," Jungkook hums, his hand falling between you and connecting to your clit before the spit falls off his thumb.

Not that he needed the extra moisture, because you are fucking soaked, he flicks at your nub gently, satisfied as you shudder slightly at the contact. His overstimulated cock pulses inside you, the heat of your pussy making him release a strained breath before he pulls back out and begins to fuck you again. You can't even be shocked at his stamina at this point, many nights before having proven that he is fucking insatiable, pulling four of five orgasms out of you before turning in.

It doesn't take long before you're teetering on the edge of bliss again; the crude sounds of Jungkook's cum inside you, squelching around his cock as he slides in and out of you, are fucking erotic, arousing you even further. "Listen to thattttt," he groans at the noise, his overstimulation long forgotten as he gets lost in you again. 

"Oh," you cry at his nasty words, "my shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!" You can't even form a sensible sentence, the pleasure becoming too much. Your back lifts off the bed slightly as Jungkook's hand follows your cunt when it tries to cower away. "God! Please!" You wail as his hand slips, the juices coming out of you causing his hand to slide around messily. He chuckles at the absolutely filthy sight; it's the best thing he's ever fucking seen.

"Good fucking girl. My gooood. Fucking. Girl." He praises as you grip his bedsheets in anguish, your body shaking, breath stuck in your throat as your head lifts toward the ceiling. Your mouth drops open as the band breaks, the tears that were sitting idle beneath your lashes finally spilling out, a loud sob spewing through your lips as you cum. Your orgasm is intense, ears ringing as Jungkook drags it out as much as he possibly can before you're shrivelling away, falling back into his mattress in exhaustion.

You groan lowly as Jungkook slowly pulls himself out of you, grabbing the shirt he discarded halfway through your activity off the floor and using it to capture the liquid that drools out of you. You giggle at the sight, swatting him with your foot as he wipes, "That's disgusting," you cry at his use of a dirty t-shirt to clean you up.

"It's clean! I chucked it on just before you came in," he assures with a smirk, continuing his action and ignoring the eye-roll you throw him. Then, suddenly, your eyes widen, and you all but scramble off his bed, diving for your clothes on the ground before shoving them over your head. He laughs softly at your haste before pulling his own sweatpants back on, minus the underwear. He's about to head to the shower, an invitation to you dangling on the tip of his tongue as he watches you fix your hair and makeup in his mirror. He watches in amusement as you manage to tame your hair but fail to fix the smudged eyeliner at the root of your waterline, giving up with a huff and looking over to him with a teasing glare, "This is your fault."

His shoulders rise slightly, and his mouth is pulled into a faux pout when you deliver a soft smack to his arm, making your way to his bedroom door. He turns to finally head into his ensuite and shower before your strangled gasp meets his ears. He spins around quickly, confusion coating his features before his eyes trail to what you're fixated on.

Taehyung is sitting on the couch, legs crossed beneath him, AirPods in his ears as he munches on a slice of pizza. Your brother looks up when he feels your presence and nods in greeting. Then, fishing one of the earbuds from his ear, he waves the piece of the pie in his hand toward you. You're frozen in your spot, every word in your vocabulary flying out of your head as you're rendered speechless. Your brother pauses the show on his phone before swallowing his mouthful, "Pizza's here."

part two out now💗: click here

[asterias-record-shop]

not-so-secret secret (t.n. & m.r.)

Theo has always had a crush on you, but with you being his best friend's step-sister, he never did anything… but then he realized how close Mattheo was to you. Got damn, this drabble is 2.3K words.

“You can’t date my bloody sister,” Mattheo snapped, shaking his head before throwing his head back to chug down a shot of firewhisky. “You’re fucking insane.”

Theo shook his head along with Mattheo, sighing. “Y-You know that I wouldn’t-“

“With the way you look at her, yeah you would,” Mattheo shook his head as his eyes trailed your form at the Slytherin party, a slight bite of his lip making Theo look at you too. “Angel! Come over here.”

You paused your actions of dancing with your friends, grabbing your drink to walk over to the two friends. Theo loved to watch you saunter over, your hips swaying as you stood next to Mattheo who wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you flush against his side.

“Go get me another drink, yeah?” Mattheo looked up at you as you hummed softly, giving him yours.

“I’m not going to finish it, I didn’t like it,” you explained as he took it, seemingly not bothered that your step-brother had his arm wrapped around you.

Theo didn’t have siblings, so that must have been normal, right?

“Thank you, angel,” he hummed as he took your drink, taking a sip before jerking his head at Theo. “Get Theo a drink then, yeah? He needs one.”

You hummed again, nodding as you smiled at Theo. “What do you want?”

“Whatever,” Theo wasn’t going to be picky when you were going to get him a drink. “I’ll take whatever you get for me.”

You nodded, letting your fingers twirl in his hair. “Okay.”

It was a simple reaction for him to lean into your touch making you giggle, his head following your touch before you walked away, making Mattheo laugh. “Goodness… you’re fucking whipped.”

Quickly, Theo looked over, shaking his head. “N-No, I’m not-”

“Yes the fuck you are,” Mattheo’s voice has a dangerous bite to it as he glared at Theo. “You better stay the fuck away from her.”

This was confusing to Theodore. He watched as you walked over, your green dress slipping further up your thighs as you weaved through people, but he watched as you finally stood in front of him and gave him the drink. “Here! I got you your favorite.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Theo said as you sat on the couch between the two of them, lifting up your legs to place your thighs on Mattheo’s. Theo watched as you did so, swallowing as you looked at him before taking a sip through the tiny straw. “Mmm, it’s good.”

“Is it?” You sat up straighter, leaning towards him. “Can I try it?”

“Yeah, of course,” he offered the cup to you in his hand, watching as you took the straw and slowly took a sip. “Good?”

You hummed, smiling as you took out the straw with your teeth before licking the bottom to get the drops that began to fall. “Mmm, so good,” you hummed before giving him the straw, putting it between his teeth as he opened his mouth. “Do you mind if we share?”

“Of course not.”

Mattheo’s hand moved to your thigh, squeezing in almost a warning-like way. It did not concern you, though, not when tonight was your night to tempt him – to tease him.

“Angel,” Mattheo warned, but it didn’t seem like Theo heard as he offered his drink to you and watched as you took a large sip, never breaking eye contact. “Stop it.”

You did not listen, offering it back to Theo and purposely letting some of the liquor fall down your lips before swiping at it with your thumb and licking it off. Theo’s eyes continued to follow you, never looking away as you tilted your head slightly.

By Merlin’s name, Theo was fine.

“Are you single, Theo?”

Your question made him swallow, inhaling slightly, before nodding. “Yes.”

“I am too,” you smiled, and your words made Mattheo’s grip tighten on your thigh as you bit your lip slightly at the feeling.

“I know.”

You were about to respond before Mattheo dragged you out, Theo swallowing as you both disappeared. At first, he waited a few minutes, he waited for you both to come back, but you didn’t.

So he went out to look for you both.

At first, it took him a minute to find out where you both were, but a few harsh breaths made his stomach twist.

“No! No, I w-won’t do it again, I promise!” A voice sobbed, stuttering before gags fell from your mouth.

“Yes you will,” another harsh voice bit back, the gags getting louder as Theo turned a corner, the sight of you pressed against one of the castle pillars with Mattheo’s fingers shoved down your throat certainly a sight to see.

It took Theo a second to register the fact that Mattheo had his slacks down to his knees as he fucked into you from behind, white pearlescent liquid running down your inner thighs as he breathed heavily.

“You love being a teasing little slut… mmm, your pussy is always so open whenever I don’t fuck you because you’re such a desperate little whore,” Mattheo growled back in response, his other hand pushing forward to slap against your clit. A yelp fell from your lips as Mattheo’s hips got faster, his harsh breaths turning into loud, guttural moans as his fingers twisted your sensitive bud. “You’re such a fucking whore… desperate for your step-brother’s cock, aren’t you a whore angel? Hm?”

His fingers pushed farther down your throat as you gagged, tears streaming down your cheeks as you nodded mindlessly.

This sight shouldn’t have been a turn on, but it was. Cum covering your inner thighs as he fucked into you, globs of arousal continuing to fall down your thighs and make a messy puddle on the floor. How long had he been fucking you? How many times have you cum?

The mere thought made Theo rock hard, and he couldn’t help himself, pushing his hands down to start undoing his pants and pumping himself, groaning as he tilted back his head. It was so perverted what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself – besides, there was no way Mattheo would ever let him have you.

He was always so submissive with you, he couldn’t help it, but now he knew your not-so-secret secret, and now he knew what to do.

So, as soon as he finished jacking himself off – he knew exactly what to do.

The next day, he saw Mattheo – who was grinning like he knew Theo saw you both fucking last night. Like he knew Theo would follow you both out.

“Mattheo,” Theo smiled as he stood in front of his best friend, tilting his head. “You’re happy today.”

“Mmm, I had a good night,” Mattheo was sick and Theo knew it, but it was as though that sickness was slowly spreading to Theo as he leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m pretty sure I just got a girl pregnant, and I think you know exactly who I’m talking about. You’re not exactly the most quiet person when you jack off.”

Theo just hummed in response, but leaned closer to Mattheo’s ear. “I know I’m not. And I’m going to be just as loud when I tell every press outlet that Voldemort’s son is a sick bastard who fucks his pretty little step-sister unless you let me fuck her too.”

Mattheo pulled away, a smirk on his face as he tilted his head. “Took you long enough.”

“Matty, what’s going on?” You were shocked when Mattheo took his fingers out of you, and instead of putting his cock in you to replace his digits, he stepped back. “Matty!”

“Hush angel,” he whispers, smiling as the door slowly begins to open. It was a normal reaction for you to try and cover yourself before Mattheo leaned down quickly, grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them to the mattress. “What are you doing, huh?”

“M-Mattheo, who is it-”

“Hey pretty girl,” Theo’s voice rang out, a soft moan escaping your mouth when you saw him pumping his cock.

The sight of Theo walking toward you, pumping himself as Mattheo went around your body, keeping your hands pinned down as he slowly hovered above your face. “You remember how you felt watched last night, angel? Well, there’s our audience…”

Theo’s eyes never looked away from your soaked cunt, your cum running down your beautiful, wet folds before he kneeled between your legs and held your plush thighs to his hips. “Mhm… and now it’s time to be more involved, darling…”

“W-Wait-!” You groaned as he pushed into you, your words leaving your mind as your voice disappeared as Theo started to rut his hips. Your mind went blank as you desperately tried to rut your hips into his in response, Mattheo stroking his tip all along your face with a smirk.

“You really are a whore… so desperate for any cock to fuck into you and fill your womb up with cum.”

You were about to bite back with a more harsh response, but Mattheo only took that as an entrance into your mouth, slamming his hips forward into your mouth making you choke. Your throat was still sore from last night, a whine falling from your lips before you started to gag with every thrust.

The feeling of your cunt was absolute heaven to Theo, and this gave him the chance to fully give into his more harsh code. Normally, he would have been more gentle, but he couldn’t. Mattheo’s sickness has spread to him, and now, he would never be able to go back.

“Fucking bloody hell,” Theodore moaned out, throwing his head back as he sets into a steady pace fucking into you, loud groans falling from his lips with every thrust. “She’s so fucking wet.”

“Mmm, just wait until you get her mouth,” Mattheo spoke smugly, his cock dragging and fucking down your throat roughly, as though he did not care if he would hurt you. Truthfully, he did not care if he would hurt you and you both knew that, but sometimes he felt nice. “Fuck angel, Theo knows our secret now… he can fuck you whenever he pleases and he won’t tell anyone…”

You whined loudly around his cock, hips bucking unconsciously as you tried to squeeze your thighs together, Theodore’s hands quickly going down to press your thighs to the bed. “Uh uh, my darling,” he groaned, his thrusts getting rougher as he grunted. “You’re not fucking moving away from me… merlin, you have a better cunt than I could have ever imagine, holy shit…” he drawled on in a loud moan, his hips stuttering as Mattheo cackled.

“Are you close already? You’re truly acting like a fucking virgin, come on angel, make him cum.”

You always listened to Mattheo, beginning to rock your hips into Theo’s who moaned loudly as you did so, leaning forward and fucking into you at a new position. The feeling made you moan and gag around Mattheo’s cock, the feeling of two cocks inside of you making you go insane as your stomach began to twist. It was your third orgasm, the feeling making you whine as the pit of your stomach began to feel like it was almost burning, a pulsing heat from your clit as Theo’s thumb swiped repeatedly over the sensitive bud. You gagged as you self-consciously needed to beg to cum, strangled words escaping making Mattheo groan.

“She’s about to cum. You have to listen to her beg.”

He pulled his cock out of your mouth making you cough repeatedly, but Theo’s hips only got faster, a broken wail coming from your mouth. “W-Wait! Th-Theo, it’s too much, t-too much!”

Mattheo continued to pump his cock above your face, ready to spurt cum all over you. “Beg to cum, angel, or I’ll make him pull out of you so quick you won’t even get to force yourself.”

The thought made you wail, a soft sob coming from your mouth as you eagerly nodded your head. “Pl-Please, Theo! Please, I want to cum, I want to cum!”

Theo only let out a guttural groan, barely able to speak as his thrusts got faster, hitting that spot inside of you that made your mind blur and your stomach hit that peak as your vision went black.

“Fucking cum. Cum, you stupid fucking slut,” he was finally giving into that need to be cruel, that sickness that Mattheo harnessed in the most possessive way – the need to truly use you like a fuck toy.

As Theo moaned loudly, his hips still not pausing in their rough thrusts while he came inside of you, fucking his cum deeper inside of you as you came with a loud, broken scream, Mattheo laughed as he pumped himself, spurting perfect ropes of cum all along your lips and chin, even spurting some into your mouth and on your neck.

The three of you slowly rode out your highs, Theo unable to stop the movements of his hips as Mattheo let go of your hands and let his now slightly softened cock settle on your chin with his balls in your mouth. It was his way of ordering you to continue to pump him, which you did as you suckled carefully against his ball sac.

“Fuck,” Theo whispered breathlessly, inhaling as his thrusts began to feel more composed, a whine falling from your lips. “She looks so hot.”

“I know,” Mattheo whispered, stroking your hair as you tilted your head to the side to keep eye contact with him. “She can suck you off, too. As soon as you stop hogging her cunt.”

This made Theo laugh as your eyes rolled back. Maybe it was good to have an audience, after all.

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsiblity.

© asterias-record-shop

[tojisun]

established simon (ghost) riley x fem reader; eventual john price x fem reader; hinted t141 x fem reader

!! suggestive - minors dni; hints of d/s; 944 words

johnny almost falls from his seat as he sees who’s closing in. 

he smacks kyle’s thigh, the younger man hissing in anger before following johnny’s jutted finger, only for his own jaw to fall open in surprise when he finally sees what’s got johnny’s face spasming. john sighs through his nose before twisting, tipping his boonie just a little bit to clear his vantage. 

ah, he thinks, his own heart lodging itself in his throat. no wonder.

simon finally made it, the tall man weaving his way around the crowd and sidestepping strangers with passion. price knows it’s less about his aversion to being touched by strangers and more about securing the package cradled gently in his toned arms – you.

you’re not tiny by normal standards, john could tell, but beside ghost, you look a whole lot smaller. you’re dressed in a frilly pink dress, looking too prim and too proper for the establishment. for the man holding you.

john has to briefly turn his eyes away, licking the back of his teeth as a spike of hunger seizes him whole. 

you and ghost finally make it to the group, and they all watch, with little shame, as ghost claims the seat they’ve saved for him before pulling you into his lap. you follow with a fond huff, using simon’s shoulder to steady yourself as you wiggle around to find a comfortable position. 

all throughout, simon’s hands are firmly on you, touching and guiding, but also marking and claiming. john thinks it’s also a reminder to the squad: she’s mine.

john nurses his whiskey, swallowing down the alcohol to quench his thirst. 

then, you finally look at them, beautiful doe eyes blinking up at them with curiosity and interest.

fuck, you’re too goddamn beautiful.

“hey there, little lass,” johnny greets first, his pale cheeks tinged with the slightest pink, and his arm out for you to shake. they all watch as you do just that, tender hand and dewy skin meeting scarred and battle-worn ones. 

the contrast has john gripping his glass of whiskey, and, unwittingly, a brief thought flashes through his mind: how beautiful you would look being corrupted by them all.

as he shots the rest of his alcohol, his eyes accidentally meet simon’s.

john expected anger or even a flash of betrayal, instead, all he sees is the way simon’s eyes are heavy with thinly-veiled interest.

oh.

“hello,” your reply breaks the eye contact and both men shift to look at you. you introduce yourself, and john mouths your name to himself, testing the way it rolls off his tongue. 

kyle hums from beside johnny, extending his hand out next with a charming smile. you smile back at him, still looking like a perfect picture of a good and proper girl. not even the way that you’re sat on the lap of a man whose face is fully obscured by a plain balaclava could alter the way you are all dolled up and darling for them all.

“cap’n?” kyle’s voice pierces through his thoughts and john blinks back into reality before instantly turning his eyes to their guest. 

don’t mind the fact that it had been kyle who asked for him – john is already giving you his full attention. 

“hey there, sweet girl,” john’s voice is a purr – a sure gamble – and he watches the way you freeze, your eyes going wide as you clock in the desire coating his words.

johnny and kyle straighten up from their seats, their lips pinched together as their eyes flick between their captain and their lieutenant. 

but ghost doesn’t do anything.

instead, they watch as simon’s hand snakes up to your throat from where it rested on your stomach. the glide was slow, deliberately putting on a show, and they watched with rapt attention as simon gently squeezed your throat – the action not made to hurt but to ground you.

simon uses this hold to tug you closer to him until his lips are hovering over your ear. 

“c’mon, love,” simon’s voice rumbles within the startling silence that has overtaken their little group. “what do good girls say?”

you lick your lips and their eyes zone in on the little sliver of your tongue, their chests constricting when they finally register your blown up eyes, your pupils eating up the colours of your irises. 

“hello, sir,” you finally murmur, your voice breathy and light as you turn to john. 

john pretends that he doesn’t understand why the mere mention of his title slipping from your pouty lips had set his nerves on fire.

“yeah,” he hears himself say. “would never tire hearin’ you callin’ me sir, that’s for sure sweetheart.”

johnny chokes from somewhere beside him but he doesn’t pay it any mind because simon looks at him, contemplative, before giving a short nod.

it’s all john needs before he reaches out and brushes your hair away from your face. you’re still staring at him with wide eyes, your breaths passing between your pearly teeth and glossy lips, and john ducks down just enough that only you and simon could hear.

“tell me to stop now, little one.”

your resounding whine and the soft shake of your head gives john the answer he needs.

but simon clicks his tongue. “use y’r words, love.”

“don’t,” you begin, sighing in quiet pleasure when simon’s other hand travels down your skirt, his warm palm rubbing along the expanse of your thigh. “don’t stop. please, sir.”

both john and simon rumble in elation at your response. at your beautiful docility. at how proper and good a girl you truly are. 

and now, you could be john’s girl too. 

[xtra7s]

Could you do an enemies to lovers smut for Renee rapp? I can't find anything like it for this woman, and it's been sitting in the back of my brain for WEEKS🤣

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧

Pairing: Renee Rapp x gn!reader

Sypnosis: Renee and Y/N, past broadway rivals, meet again at a party.

Content: Renee Rapp x gn!reader, fingering, cunnilingus, alcohol

Word Count: 2.7k

a/n: sorry there isnt much enemy to lover action, im completely writer blocked and I hope you enjoy. Not proofread

masterlist

The room pulsed with energy, and at the center of it all, Renee Rapp held court. Her laughter rang out like a melody, drawing attention from all corners of the glamorous party. Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in the crowd, and the atmosphere shifted. Y/N, now 23, stood there, an unspoken challenge in their gaze.

"Well, well, if it isn't Y/N," Renee smirked, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Thought you'd be off somewhere trying to steal the spotlight again."

Y/N chuckled, unfazed by Renee's jab. "You know me, always craving the attention you seem to think you deserve."

The tension between them crackled like electricity, the memories of their past rivalry bubbling to the surface. They exchanged pleasantries with false smiles, each word laced with underlying competition.

"Still riding on that role you stole from me, Rapp?" Y/N quipped, a sly grin playing on their lips.

Renee leaned in, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, please. I didn't steal it; I earned it. Unlike some people who rely on sympathy and mediocre talent."

The banter continued, their words cutting deeper with each exchange. It was as if the years had melted away, and they were back on the Broadway stage, fighting for the same spotlight. The party became a battleground, and every smile, every gesture, was a carefully calculated move in their ongoing verbal duel.

The party raged on, the music pulsating through the crowded room. As the night wore on, the competitive banter between Renee Rapp and Y/N took an unexpected turn. Glasses clinked, inhibitions faded, and the tension transformed into a different kind of electricity.

"Admit it, Y/N," Renee slurred playfully, leaning in closer. "You always secretly admired my talent. It's okay; I get it."

Y/N's eyes sparkled with mischief as they responded, "Oh, please. I only admired how you managed to talk your way into roles you had no business getting."

Laughter erupted between them, a shared understanding weaving through the alcohol-induced haze. The lines between rivalry and attraction blurred as they engaged in a tipsy dance of words and glances.

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, they found themselves in a quieter corner, away from the prying eyes of the party. The air was thick with laughter and a lingering tension that seemed to pull them closer.

"I'll have you know," Renee began, her tone low and teasing, "I could still outshine you on any stage, even in this state."

Y/N chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Challenge accepted, Rapp. But first, can we agree that we were both robbed of that role we fought over?"

Renee's eyes softened, and she nodded, a shared nostalgia washing over them. "Yeah, maybe we were both deserving. Broadway politics can be brutal."

As the night deepened, the flirtatious banter continued, their words becoming increasingly laced with innuendo. The competitive edge now carried a hint of something more, a mutual attraction that had been buried beneath years of rivalry.

"I have to admit," Y/N admitted, their gaze locking with Renee's, "you clean up well when you're not trying to sabotage my career."

Renee smirked, leaning in even closer. "Maybe I should sabotage something else instead."

The playful banter took a more seductive turn, and the air became charged with a different kind of energy. It was as if the years of rivalry had paved the way for a newfound connection – one that went beyond the stage and into the realm of shared secrets and stolen glances.

The raucous sounds of the party faded into a distant hum as Renee Rapp and Y/N slipped away, finding refuge in the dimly lit hallway leading to the bathroom. Y/N shot a mischievous smile at Renee, a glint of playfulness in their eyes.

"I need a moment to touch up my makeup," Y/N said, their voice low and suggestive.

Renee raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "Well, I'm not one to let someone go to the bathroom alone, especially if they might be up to something."

Y/N chuckled, leading the way into the bathroom. The air was charged with anticipation, and the fluorescent lights flickered overhead as they entered the small space. Y/N turned to face the mirror, pretending to focus on their makeup, but their eyes locked with Renee's in the reflection.

"You know," Y/N teased, their voice a sultry whisper, "I never thought I'd find myself in a bathroom with you. The stuff of dreams, really."

Renee chuckled, closing the distance between them. "Dreams do come true, especially when you least expect them."

As Y/N applied lipstick, Renee couldn't resist the temptation. She gently turned Y/N around, their eyes locking with an intensity that sent shivers down both their spines. The playful banter had shifted into a charged moment of unspoken desire.

Renee, with a smirk that conveyed both confidence and mischief, pushed Y/N gently against the bathroom wall. Y/N's breath caught, their heartbeat echoing in the confined space. The flirtatious tension reached its peak as Renee leaned in, her lips dangerously close to Y/N's ear.

"You talk a big game, Y/N," Renee whispered, her warm breath sending shivers down Y/N's spine. "But I wonder if you can handle me."

Before Y/N could respond, Renee closed the remaining distance, capturing Y/N's lips in a passionate kiss. The bathroom seemed to fade away, and all that remained was the electric connection between them. Y/N responded eagerly, their hands finding their way to Renee's jaw, as Renee holds their waist.

The kiss was a blend of years of rivalry, newfound attraction, and the intoxication of the night. The world outside the bathroom ceased to exist as Renee and Y/N lost themselves in the heat of the moment.

As they finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, the playful banter had transformed into a silent understanding. The bathroom had become a secret haven for a connection that went beyond the stage, leaving both Renee and Y/N wondering what the encore of this unexpected night would bring.

The remnants of their passionate kiss lingered in the air as Renee and Y/N pulled away, their eyes locking in a shared moment of realization. A playful grin played on Renee's lips as she looked into Y/N's eyes.

"Feisty," Renee remarked, her voice low and teasing. "But I have a feeling the night is just getting started. How about we continue this at my place, hm?"

Y/N's heart raced at the suggestion, a mix of excitement and curiosity dancing in their eyes. "And why should I be inclined to go, Rapp?"

Renee leaned in, her breath warm against Y/N's ear. "My place isn't too far from here. It's quieter, and we can continue our little encore without any interruptions."

A sly smile tugged at Y/N's lips. "Should I be concerned?"

Renee chuckled, her fingers lightly tracing Y/N's jawline. "Only if you can't handle a little adventure. Besides, it's just a short cab ride away. What do you say?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, the magnetic pull between them undeniable. "Lead the way, Rapp. Let's see what kind of encore you have in mind."

As they exited the bathroom, the party continued to buzz around them, oblivious to the clandestine connection that had formed. Renee intertwined her fingers with Y/N's, leading them through the crowd with an air of confidence. The night held the promise of something unpredictable, and neither of them could resist the allure of what awaited at Renee's house.

Outside, the city lights shimmered, casting a romantic glow on the streets. Renee hailed a cab, and as they slid into the backseat, the anticipation grew. The ride was filled with stolen glances and the lingering heat of their earlier encounter.

Arriving at Renee's apartment, the door closed behind them, sealing the promise of a night filled with passion and shared secrets. As they stepped into the dimly lit space, the chemistry between Renee and Y/N ignited once again, setting the stage for an encore that would be remembered long after the final curtain fell.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Renee couldn't resist the temptation any longer. She pressed Y/N against it, her hands sliding up their waist and pulling them closer. Y/N let out a gasp, their hands gripping onto Renee's shoulders as they looked up at her with hunger in their eyes.

Renee kissed down their neck, nibbling on the sensitive skin and earning a moan from Y/N's lips. She had always been fascinated by the way someone's reactions could change when she kissed different spots on their body.

"Bedroom" Renee murmured, pulling Y/N by her right hand to Renee's bedroom. Renee pushed Y/N gently onto her bed, their bodies sinking into the soft mattress. She climbed on top of them, her lips never leaving their skin as she kissed and nipped along their jawline, down their neck, and across their collarbone.

Y/N's hands roamed up Renee's back, pulling her closer as they let out soft moans. The room was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the occasional gasp as Renee's lips found new spots to explore.

Renee's hands slid under Y/N's shirt, her fingers trailing over their skin and eliciting shivers from Y/N's body. She leaned in to capture Y/N's lips in a deep kiss, their tongues dancing together in perfect rhythm.

As the kiss intensified, Renee's hand traveled lower until she reached the waistband of Y/N's pants. She paused for a moment, silently asking for permission before continuing. Y/N responded by arching into her touch and pulling her even closer.

Their clothes were soon discarded in a frenzy of passion, each touch sending sparks through their bodies. They explored each other with an urgency that couldn't be contained any longer.

With each passing moment, the intensity between Renee and Y/N only grew stronger. They were lost in each other, their bodies moving together in a perfect rhythm.

Renee's lips trailed down Y/N's chest, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along the way. She stopped to pay special attention to their breasts, kneading them roughly as she attached her lips to one of Y/N's nipples.

Y/N let out a gasp, their hands gripping onto Renee's hair as they arched into her touch. The sensation was overwhelming, causing them to moan loudly and lose themselves in the pleasure.

As Renee continued to lavish attention on Y/N's body, her hand traveled down between their legs. She ran a finger through Y/N's folds, teasing them with gentle strokes before delving deeper.

Y/N's hips bucked against her hand, their breath coming in short gasps as they became lost in pleasure. Renee slipped two fingers into them, increasing the pressure and speed until Y/N was writhing beneath her.

The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and heavy breathing as they moved together in perfect harmony. Renee knew exactly how to touch Y/N to drive them wild, and she took great pleasure in doing so.

Their eyes met for a moment before Y/N leaned down to capture Renee's lips in a passionate kiss. Their bodies moved together with a newfound urgency, both desperate for release.

Renee moved Y/N up the bed with no resistance from them. She trailed kisses and gentle bites down their body until she reached their thighs. Gently, she hiked their legs up onto her shoulders, exposing them completely to her.

Y/N let out a gasp as Renee's lips found a particularly sensitive spot on their inner thigh, sending shivers through their body. They could feel the heat building between their legs as Renee continued to leave a trail of kisses and bites along their thighs.

Without warning, Renee's tongue darted out and flicked over Y/N's clit, causing them to cry out in pleasure. She continued to work her tongue expertly on Y/N's most sensitive area, alternating between soft licks and hard sucking motions.

Y/N's hands gripped onto the sheets as waves of pleasure washed over them. They were completely at Renee's mercy, lost in the sensations coursing through their body.

As Renee continued to pleasure Y/N with her mouth, her hand slipped upwards to find its way inside of them once again. She worked her fingers in perfect rhythm with her tongue, driving Y/N closer and closer to the edge.

With one final thrust of her fingers and a flick of her tongue, Renee brought Y/N over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm. They cried out in ecstasy as they rode out the waves of pleasure coursing through their body.

Renee didn't stop there though. She continued to kiss and lick at Y/N's sensitive areas, prolonging their pleasure until they couldn't take it anymore.

Finally, when Y/N was spent and breathless from their release, Renee made her way back up their body to capture their lips in a deep kiss once again. Their bodies were still humming with energy as they kissed each other passionately.

Renee's body was still humming with pleasure from Y/N's expert touch, but she couldn't resist the invitation in their words. "Let me make you feel good, Renee," they murmured, their voice filled with desire.

With a lazy smile, Renee shifted over to give Y/N more space on the bed. She watched as they trailed a hand down her naked body, causing shivers to run down her spine.

Their lips found hers in a sloppy kiss as their hand continued its journey downwards. Renee gasped into their mouth as their fingers brushed against her sensitive skin.

Without hesitation, Y/N slipped their hand between Renee's legs, finding her wet and ready for them. They rubbed her clit gently before slipping a finger inside of her. Renee moaned into the kiss as pleasure shot through her body. They knew exactly how to touch her, and she could feel herself getting lost in the sensations.

Their kiss became more urgent as Y/N added another finger, thrusting them in and out of her with perfect rhythm. She could feel the heat building within her once again, and she knew it wouldn't be long before she reached the edge.

Y/N broke the kiss and looked into Renee's eyes with a mischievous grin. "Do you want me to make you cum baby?" they murmured against Y/N's lips.

Renee let out a pathetic yes, unable to form any sentences as pleasure consumed her body. Y/N leaned down to capture one of their nipples in their mouth, sucking on it gently while their fingers continued to work their magic between her legs.

It didn't take long before Renee was crying out in pleasure, waves of ecstasy washing over her body. She clung onto Y/N tightly as she rode out the intense orgasm that had been building within her.

As Renee came down from her high, she pulled Y/N up to her level and captured their lips in a passionate but lazy kiss. She could taste herself on their lips and it only added to the feeling of intimacy between them.

Renee reached over to grab a discarded blanket from the floor and pulled it over them, covering their naked bodies. She held Y/N close to her, enjoying the warmth and closeness.

"God, that was amazing," Y/N murmured against her lips, still catching their breath.

Renee smiled and brushed a strand of hair out of Y/N's face. "You were amazing," she whispered back.

They fell into a comfortable silence, content with just being in each other's arms. Renee couldn't remember the last time she had felt so relaxed.

Eventually, they drifted off into a peaceful sleep, their limbs intertwined and breathing in sync.

[greenlyren12]

Waytelem

Neteyam x Reader

word count: 1k

Summary: Tradition with Neteyam

A/N:

"Individuals create a songcord that is used as a tactile representation of their own personal or family. Na'vi create their own song cords and expand on them continuously, adding a new item to the cord for any significant life event that occurs."

"Traditionally, once a Na'vi male has passed the tests on the path to manhood and has been accepted into the clan as an adult, he is not only allowed to make his bow from the wood of the Hometree, but he is also expected to choose his woman."

Two blue feet glued to the wooden branch below you, focused on keeping balance, you strolled ahead under the shadow of greenery. Rays of sunshine pooled beneath you, serenity chirping around, causing your ears to flutter. 

Stopping at almost every step, you lovingly caressed the manifestations of the Great Mother. From sensitive to the touch, peach colored mushrooms to hanging azure vines. Every breath you took was synchronized with the forest. 

Happiness was simple. 

As all things seemed in tune, a particularly annoying tail kept disturbing your peace. Finding the joy in tickling your nose and poking whichever eye it chose. Having enough of it, you swiftly seized it between your grasp and tugged on it.

“Neteyam, you säsrätx!”

The boy fastened his pace and collected his tail back with a toothy smile.

“Ikniyama is close, this should not even phase you.” The young na’vi snickered.

“That was your last breath, skxawng.” You evilly laughed and began to chase him, pinching the back of his legs whenever you could. 

Both of you quickly climbed up the trunk of a particularly large tree. Ascending to a naturally formed platform, secluded from the eye. Neteyam was first to sit down, carefully putting his bow and arrows beside him. 

You followed, going by his side, slapping his cheek with your tail. Proudly sitting down with your legs crossed, you expected a reaction - and none was received. Instead, he remained seated in front of you, a smug smile painting the lower half of his face. Not even looking at you, he busied himself with detaching his songcord from his waist cloths. 

You mirrored his actions, getting yours out.

“You know, this is unacceptable behavior from the future Olo’уektan.” An emotionless statement from you, which purpose was to get under his skin. 

Finally meeting your gaze, Neteyam laid his songcord on the ground.

“And this is the behavior expected from a child.” He said with a smile. 

The boy did not mean for it to hurt, but it did. By the clan’s way he was an adult, having completed the rite of passage. And you - half a year younger and still a kid. Being born again, it scared you. The uncertainty never left your weary shoulders. But it was close, you could do it. Conclude it and become a functioning member of the clan.

Neteyam’s soft nature immediately noted your silence. 

“You know I did not mean it.” The boy worryingly said while reaching out to caress your hand. 

Meeting his copper eyes, you let your face fall down.

“I will wait for you.”  He matter of factly reassured your downcast frame.

I will wait for you, he said, of its true meaning you pondered.

Would he wait for you? 

Both of your lives were intertwined from small children, you had always known him. Seeing him grow from Neteyam the Mighty Fisherman to Neteyam the Fierce Warrior. The youthful adoration was now a clumsy teenage love, but none of you dared to say a word. Ever since you could remember you had always done everything together. it was natural, you just always lingered by his side and he by yours. it was funny actually, right now was one of those moments. 

it was a tradition to weave your songcords together, if you had a closer look at them you would see they were almost identical. 

His last words had your cheeks become a deep shade of purple now, ears back, you squeezed his hand.

“Do not speak of such things, Nete.” Your tone low from embarrassment. 

His hand from yours went up to your nose to flick it so you could look him in the eye, missing your usual demeanor. 

“Whatever you wish, yawne.” The young na’vi went back to fiddling with his songcord. 

“Neteyam!”

You spent the next hour twining a fragment of an ikran’s tooth between the string. From when Neteyam claimed his own ikran and as it was your first time climbing the Hallelujah mountains. 

With Neteyam’s help you crushed it to smaller bits, so it could be easily woven into the cord. 

The time shared together was mostly spent in singing personal songs, only for your closest to hear. It served as an escape from the daily chores of life, hidden from parents and siblings. 

“I think i’m done.” Neteyam broke the silence first. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled for closer inspection, catching the boy by surprise. It was now your turn to make him nervous. 

A shy expression and a tight line forming on his mouth, he intently looked and waited for an answer.  

“It’s beautiful, Nete.” You flashed a toothy grin, fangs poking out. 

“Thank you.” His expression made your stomach turn, this boy would be the death of you. 

Neteyam retracted his palm and pulled out petals from a sun lily. His hand unsurely remained in front of him, scared to proceed. You curiously gazed at the boy, irises enlarging and tail nervously swatting. 

“Come closer.” He sweetly commanded, closing the space between you. 

For the first time ever, you silently obliged, standing on your four limbs, you waited. Something was different this time, the air was heavy, you dared not ruin it.

Neteyam carefully put the flower petals behind your ear, making your breath hitch. He pulled back, remaining a few inches from your face, noses almost touching. None of you moved, intently looking into the other’s eyes. You could see the light reflecting in his tawny orbs. 

He was beautiful.

The young na’vi slowly closed the space between your lips. The sweetness of the first kiss, gentle and loving. Scared of everything, both of you barely moved. You delicately pulled back, meeting his eyes and diving back in with a smile. This time more confident, Neteyam cupped your cheek, keeping you in place, growing eager by the second. You have no idea how long you had stayed like this.

And then you felt it. 

A tickling sensation on top of your heads, both of you pulled back, carefully looking up to inspect. 

A woodsprite gently hovered above you. 

He will wait for you.

Na'vi translation:

waytelem - songcord säsrätx - annoyance iknimaya - the rite of passage for young Na'vi skxawng - idiot olo’eyktan - clan leader yawne - beloved

[rwrbficrecs]

i’d take the bomb in your head and disarm it by @henrysfox (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Alex and Henry are students at NYU who randomly become dorm roommates. After a few short weeks of mutual dislike their friendship starts to grow - and could it actually be more ...?! At the end of the story, I was baffled that the two of them could be so completely clueless the whole time?! Then again, who am I to judge when someone settles for half-baked assumptions instead of just mustering up the courage and trying to have an honest conversation?! 😇 The story is so gentle, so angsty and Alex is just so vulnerable and soft - just beautiful and moving!

you are my mountain (you are my sea) by @alasse9 (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Five moments between Alex and Henry, starting with the visit to Alex's childhood home in Texas after Ellen's election victory, a vulnerable moment in the Brownstone, a vacation in Mexico City... This story isn't even close to 10,000 words, but it's so unbelievably powerful - I am still blown away! The author manages to hit on so many interpersonal aspects and delicate vibrations, to formulate soft, tender feelings and thoughts and describes Alex and Henry both so damn considerate and soulful - the author nailed it (imho), it's almost impossible to grasp!

Shatter Me by @historicallysam (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry and Alex are still Prince and First Son, some is canon, a lot slightly modified, but: Alex is out, Henry is not. He isn't even sure if he's gay or if he ever wants to acknowledge it - until he meets Alex and falls head over heels. The catch, on top of the homophobic Queen: Henry is engaged, his fiancée lovely, amazing even, and the wedding date is about to be set. How the author weaves together the familiar events and plotlines and their own ideas is brilliant! Not gonna lie: It was (to me) oppressive at times, really angsty - but also highly gripping!

The Consequences (of our Actions) (series) by @anchoredarchangel (book-verse)

@celeritas2997: Alex is just a Regular Guy who just happened to put Prince Henry on his 'No Consequences Sex List' and proceeds to tell him about this when they meet. Lots of sex (like, ridiculously hot sex) and feelings (SO MANY FEELINGS) ensue. I am convinced that Anchor is magic and will continue shouting about this series from the rooftops until the end of days; it is clever, sexy, funny, beautifully written and so, so, so heartfelt. ❤️

@heybuddy-drabbles: I started this when it first started and thought it was just some fun little pwp canon divergence. When I picked it up again, it was a hell of a series. I loved every last bit of it. It goes way into the whole "If cake gate didn't happen, Alex would have made himself a problem for Henry anyway" and he does in the most glorious way. I can't talk enough about HENRY in this though. It's mostly on Alex POV except the extra chapter but I'm OBSESSED WITH HENRY. How he's older. How he does things for himself like running the shelters with Pez even before he meets Alex. Anyway I could talk about Henry in this series for days but that's not why we are here for. Just, do yourself a favor and just read this.

5 Times Henry Hated New Year's + 1 Time He Didn't by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic is such an emotional rollercoaster, but it's worth every gut-wrenching twist! It delves into each of the six parts so well that you feel like you're experiencing each of Henry's life experiences with him.

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you by @gayrootvegetable (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is the cutest combination of a high school AU and soulmate AU! This fic is short but so very sweet!

if you have a garden and a library... by @glasshouses-and-stones (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic is so cute! It's not technically a Cinderella AU, but it has those vibes, and the author does a great job with the setting. Another fic that's short but so sweet!

It takes a lot to know a man by dazedandconfused (book/movie-verse)

@inexplicablymine: when I tell you to mind the trigger warnings that is true, but I can also say my GOD is this fic fantastic the writing is superb and the pacing is right on and the plot is so intricately woven I am elated to recommend it everywhere I can. Talk about an in depth suspense thriller mixed with that sex club dom/sub trope mixed with a law case ~ truly there are no words to describe how much this work gripped me as I read through it

@dot524: The subject matter is heavy at times and so are the smut scenes, but also I was fascinated with the story. I didn’t expect it to end up in the intense culminating scene that it did.

Something borrowed, Something blue by @anincompletelist (book-verse)

@heybuddy-drabbles: Yes, I know I recommended this during our Wip Wednesdays but now I'm going to recommend it here for the peeps who only read complete works. Read this. I beg of you. It's so excellent. Henry's relationship with June is something so special to me in this. June and her little family, her daughter means the world to me as well. Alex and his complicated feelings for Henry, their "enemies" to lovers road is just. God I loved it so much. Henry. HENRY IN THIS. Just. Please read this.

hold on (get ready for the ride) by wilmonflicker (book-verse)

@wilmonsfolklore: a professional soccer/football AU that I binged and completely fell in love with. Alex transfers to the team where Henry is the star player, and they get together. it's beautifully written, smutty at times and perfect for sport lovers and non-sport lovers alike

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[lovequartz]

where our fingers meet.

✵ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x fiancee!reader

✵ genre: fluff!

✵ warnings: none

✵ word count: 701

✵ crush me in your arms give me a lovelier kiss, lover

✵ notes: yeah i am back with more of this couple <3 i literally cannot stop writing for them

the week before the wedding is stressful, and not for you but for your mother and sister. you are still trapped in somewhat of a daze, you can’t believe you’re getting married let alone who you’re getting married to. your sweet sweet wonwoo, you’re sure you must’ve dreamed him up for it is madness that a man so perfect exists. in thinking of your wonderful fiance you’re awash with a sense of longing that sits heavy in your chest. 

it’s been a little less than a week since you’ve seen him, due to all the planning madness your mother and sister have swept you up into. not to mention the fact that wonwoo had left town for a stretch to visit his parents and travel back with them so they could attend the ceremony. you wish you could’ve gone with him, to have a bit of privacy between the two of you before you were to become spouses. 

silas has been lovely as he usually is, but you suspect that he’s coming to understand that you won’t always be with him so he has been making sure to take up as much of your attention as he can. which is why he currently lays sprawled across your lap while he doodles on the edges of his math notebook, and the accompanying math textbook sits abandoned across the room near your bed. 

you run your fingers through his hair for a few passes, “i thought you promised your mother that you would have a page done by bedtime?” 

silas hums, you feel it against your thighs where his upper body is positioned, and he puts his pencil down and lays his head against his open notebook, “too sleepy,” he murmurs.

your hand moves from his hair to rub his back gently, it was just about his bedtime so the sleepiness was understandable. you leave him be and when you’re certain he’s asleep is when you tuck him into your futon, making sure the blanket covers him. gathering his things, you stack them neatly into a pile and set them near the door. 

as your nephew sleeps you busy yourself with getting ready for bed yourself, changing your day dress with your sleep gown, and running a comb through your hair. 

a few minutes into brushing you hear a faint knocking at your window, its seems too quiet to be actual knocking but doesn’t quite sound like the branches that sometimes scratch at it. you slowly make your way over, and try to peer out the spaces in the slats. after not really seeing anything, you carefully slide the window open just a crack and the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. 

“wonwoo?” you say in disbelief, staring wide eyed at your fiance that stands just outside. 

he gives you a shy smile, and rubs his hands together nervously, “sorry for the abrupt and unannounced visit.” 

you shake your head, still dizzy with disbelief. “what are you doing here?” 

“i wanted to,” he pauses as if embarrassed by his actions, and you notice how red his ears are, “see you.” 

your face heats up at his admission, and you stare silently at him for a few moments before telling him to stay put. assuring him that you would be right there.

you grab a shawl from your closet and throw it over your shoulders before quietly making your way out of your bedroom and out of the house. your slippers kick up loose rocks as you hurriedly round the corner to where your fiance waits. 

he smiles when he sees you, holding out a hand that you take as soon as you’re close enough. both your fingers weaving together seamlessly. 

“is everything okay?” you ask breathlessly, still a bit worried over this unannounced middle of the night appearance. 

his free hand comes up to cradle your cheek, and you melt as his thumb brushes across your skin. “everything is fine,” he replies, “i fear that a week without you is far too long for me to bear.” 

“wonwoo…” you mumbled, flustered over his words, “you could’ve called.”

he shakes his head with a grin, “and miss this lovely sight before me? never.”

notes: okay my lovelies thank you as always for reading and there will most likely be more of this couple from me! let me know what you thought <3

[0oolookitsme]

Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

Please rb to share! | Masterlist

With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all. 

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.  

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.  

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

-

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard. 

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone. 

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal. 

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there. 

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.   

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap. 

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping. 

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief. 

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze. 

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

[non-stop-imagines]

Can we please have a blurb for my biggest fan where the baby has her first Karting lesson or event and she's scared so she goes crying to charles for comfort.

I love hearing from you and I love this idea. And I love Dad!Charles. 😚💕

Karting Woes

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Black Mom!Reader

Word Count: maybe 400 words (I didn't check) and an insta smau

Warning: Fluff, truly just fluff, Dad!Charles that we all deserve, Gia crying and being worried, a cute little ending 😘

A/N 3: man petite souris = my little mouse;

______♥_____

"Okay, okay. Let's go find Charles." You and Gia weaved your way through the crowd of children of various ages and their parents, knowing you would find Charles with Gia's kart, looking it over one last time. Gia was holding your hand tightly as you guided her through the crowd, but she immediately lets go and scurries over to Charles once she sees him, tears streaming down her face.

"Petite souris, why the tears?" He picked her up and lets her arms wrap tightly around his neck as he gave you a wide eyed look, briefly glancing at the crying child in his arms.

"She just came to me and said she needed to talk to you." You take a step closer to run your hand down the two braids that you had put in your daughter's hair.

"I can't remember *hic* where to break *hic* and the racing line *hic* for turn 3. And-and I don't know if I-I'm gonna do good and that if I-I d-don't do good you and m-mama will be mad..." Charles is quick to hush the spiralling child in his arms.

"Woah, woah. Okay. First, breathe. Here put your hand on my chest." He took her tiny hand and placed it on this chest, then began to take a long breath in, allowing his chest to lift exaggeratedly so the child knew to follow suit. Gia tried, but continued to suck in small gasps of air, a bit further from the verge of crying, but still in the verge. So Charles placed her back on the ground, kneeling so he could be eye level with her, and engulfed both of her hands in his to bring them to his chest. "Ah, try again, mon petit souris. In..." This time she does as told, taking a deep, long, exaggerated breath in, puffing out her cheeks and raising her shoulders in the process which made you look over and see that Charles had done the same. Charles then counted to 5 with his fingers before letting out his breath, the small child mimicing the action. "Better?" Gia nods while Charles brings his hand down one of her braids, guiding the end in front of her shoulder. "Okay. Now, what is this about me and your mom being mad at you?"

"That if I don't good you and Mama will be mad at me..." Gia played with her fingers as she quietly spoke, looking up at Charles after receiving a light kiss on the top of her head.

"Gianna...are you having fun?" You daughter nods and Charles continues. "You want to go out there and try your very best, oui?" Another nod. "Well, then there is nothing your mom could be mad about. This is your first race, mon petit souris. All we want is for you to go out there, learn, and have a good time. Bon?" His hands had traveled back down to your daughter's, grasping them and gently wiggling her arms.

"Bon. But, but what what about my nerves?" You're daughter's little voice chirped, making you want to cry more than you already wanted to.

"You being nervous means you care, and it is the greatest doing something you care so much about, I promise." He brings Gia into him for a hug and rapid fire light kisses on the top of her head. "And the, uh, second thing?" Charles knew exactly what the second concern was for your daughter but he liked allowing Gia to voice her own concerns. It has saved the both of you many whiney tantrums.

"Turn 3. I can't remember the racing line or where to brake." Gia takes a flat hand and rubs some pieces of hair back that were tickling her forehead as she turned toward the track, pointing at the curve in question.

"Okay, let's go take a look." Charles stands straight up and hold out his hand that Gia quickly accepts. What you don't expect was for Gia's other hand to blindly reach out for yours, which you take, following them to the track so he could go over the information again. Gia held on to your hand with an unwavering grip as she watched Charles' hand move fluidly to give visual to his instruction, her full attention on him, nodding intermittently as he spoke. And you watched to, but your mind blocked out the words and only observed how your boyfriend's hands mimiced the curve and the motion of driving, seeing how his bracelets and rings made the image that much sweeter for you. The sight was what dreams were made of, as a mother and a girlfriend.

"You feel a little better about that corner?" Charles turns back to Gianna who was nodding up at him.

"Yeah, I feel better." Gia turns briefly to look at you and then turns back to Charles quickly as if she forgot something. "Oh! Merci, Charles." You let go of Gia's hand so Charles could pick her up again.

"De rien, ma petite souris." He looked at her as she continued to analyze the tricky curve. Proud to be here in this moment with her and for her to trust him so much, and wondering what he did in his life to deserve this. "Do you still need to finish your warm up? Have you done the bands yet?" Gia shakes her head, her small braids whipping around. "Alright, let's go."

"I'm gonna head back to the chairs." You decide to give them their bonding time, stopping to give Charles the kiss he leaned in for after setting Gia back on the ground.

"Okay, I'll be over there in a minute." One more kiss and then he was off with your daughter back to the white tents being used as garages, your daughter now skipping along having forgotten all of her woes from minutes before.

______♥_______

You watched as all the kids began to line up on the grid, with Gia lining up P11, her vibrant pink helmet and red race suit combination not making it difficult to point her out. Charles' arms snaked around your waist, making you flinch but settle into his body once you saw it was him. "How was she?"

"She was fine. I don't even think she remembers what she was nervous about." You let out a singular breathy chuckle as he gave you small pecks behind the ear, everyone now waiting for the race to begin. "I think she'll do fine."

"You're a good dad, you know?" You meant your words, but you knew that they would have Charles floating on Cloud 9, probably for the rest of the week. You knew how much he liked being a dad and how much he cared about being a good father figure to Gianna, so sometimes you would just remind him that he was doing a good job. You also liked to see how flustered he got.

He brought his fingers to your chin to guide your face to look at him, a cheeky grin on your face that he couldn't help but kiss. "Merci, ma cherie." You both turn back to the track as the your daughter's first race begins.

yourusername

Liked by susie_wolff and 98,389 others

yourusername I'd say going from 11th to 6th in your first race is pretty good. Mama is so proud of you Gia. 😚♥️

tagged charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc Super proud ♥️♥️

>yourusername Super proud of you for not crying for too long after she crossed the finish line 😘

>charles_leclerc She did so good 😭😭

user1 So proud of our baby!🥳

>yourusername Gia says thank you to all of her internet aunties and uncles 😁

susie_wolff You have to bring Gia out to practice with Jack sometime!

>yourusername Booking the flight right now! I would take any chance I can get to spend some time with the Wolff's ♥️

>susie_wolff Text me so we can set it up!! ♥️♥️

>user2 I don't think the world would survive the power surge that would be produced from these two linking up

scuderiaferrari We love a good Lewink 😉

>yourusername Any day you get a Lewink is a good day 😘

[cubarsis]

—coquette boyfriend | h. fort garcía

synopsis : doing the coquette boyfriend tik tok trend with your cocky boyfriend.

fluff, suggestive at the end

requests are open🎀

HÉCTOR AND HIS GIRLFRIEND lazed together on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows across the room. Contentment settled over them like a warm blanket as they savored the simple pleasure of being together.

Her boyfriend’s heart swelled with affection as he gazed at his girlfriend, her eyes sparkling with mischief and warmth. Little did he know she had something going on in her mind.

As Hector lounged on the couch with his girlfriend, she suddenly pulled out her phone, scrolling through TikTok videos with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Hey, Hector baby ?“

He only grunts in response, eyes glued to his phone as the athlete continues holding his live close

„You know that you’re my super handsome coquette man, right ?”

Hector raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden enthusiasm. “Coquette man ? What’s that all about?”

His girlfriend grinned, her eyes dancing with excitement. “It’s where I tie a ribbon around your biceps and then flex to rip it off. It makes you all the more boyfriend. Plus, I bet your arms would look amazing doing it.”

She only giggles after her words, tracing his biceps and admiring the veins moving on her lovers arms every time he changes positions and his muscles flex.

Hector felt a faint feeling of cockiness creep into his mind at her compliment, but he couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement coursing through him.

“You think so?”

His girlfriend nodded eagerly, her smile widening. “Definitely, your arms are already so muscular and attractive. Trust me, you’ll rock this.“

„Besides, you wouldn’t mind some kisses, yeah ?“

Héctor is quick to choose what lipstick he wants his biceps to be covered in, even asking to apply it to his girlfriends soft lips before kissing it off of them for the first time that day. Earning a gentle thump to the head.

Without a word, she pressed a soft kiss to his bicep, leaving behind a bright lipstick stain. Hector’s breath caught in his throat, a rush of warmth flooding through him at the unexpected display of affection.

She repeats her actions a few more times, all while having Héctor admiring her in the meantime. Now his whole right biceps full of his favorite lipstick stains. Some even smeared by how much both of the lovers giggled.

His girlfriend pulled back, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she admired her handiwork. “There,” she declared proudly.

“Now your biceps are even more irresistible.”

With a coy smile, Hector’s girlfriend reached for the ribbon, her fingers deftly weaving it around his bicep. Hector watched her intently, his heart swelling with affection at the sight of her focused expression.

As she tied the ribbon in a neat bow, Hector couldn’t help but admire the way her eyes sparkled with playful determination.

“You’re really getting into this, huh?” he teased, unable to hide his amusement.

His girlfriend grinned up at him, her hands lingering on his arm. “Of course! I want to make sure coquette Héctor looks perfect for the video,”

she replied, her voice laced with excitement.

“There we go,”

she said triumphantly, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“Now, flex those muscles,” his girlfriend chirped

Hector obliged, feeling a rush of pride as his muscles bulged beneath the ribbon. His girlfriend’s eyes widened in awe, her smile widening as she watched him.

“You look amazing,” she whispered, her voice filled with admiration.

„My cute pink boyfriend,“

As Hector flexed even harder, the ribbon strained against his muscles before finally giving way with a satisfying rip. His girlfriend cheered, clapping her hands in delight as she captured the moment on camera.

As Hector flexed his arm and effortlessly ripped the ribbon, his girlfriend cheered him on, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Wow, you made that look so easy!” she exclaimed, impressed by his strength.

Hector grinned, feeling a surge of pride at her admiration. “Well, you know, it’s all these muscles you love so much,” he teased, flexing his biceps playfully.

His girlfriend rolled her eyes, but a playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Oh, please,” she retorted, pretending to be unimpressed. “You just love showing off.”

Hector chuckled, reaching out to pull her into a playful hug. Hugging her tightly with the squeeze of his strong arms.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But I know you love it too,“

he adds. Poking fun at her.

She playfully swatted at him, but there was a warmth in her eyes that told Hector she didn’t mind his teasing. Instead flexing his arms a few more times snd grabbing her hips firmly in order to prove his point to her.

Now, of course she used the opportunity to squeeze at his arms a few times.

Feeling playful, Hector shifted gears, his expression turning into a mock pout. “But in revenge, I want more kisses,” he whined, his tone getting flirty.

His girlfriend couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden change in demeanor, her eyes lidden with amusement.

“Oh, is that so?” she teased, playing along with his antics.

Nodding eagerly, Hector leaned in closer, his lips puckered in an exaggerated pout. “Yes, please,” he said in a flirty, pleading tone, his eyes wide with his ever so charming gaze.

Unable to resist his playful charm, his girlfriend leaned in and pressed a series of playful kisses to his cheeks, his nose, and finally his lips. Hector grinned, feeling a surge of affection wash over him as he savored the sweetness of her affection.

“Better?”

she asked with a smile, her eyes twinkling with affection; something Fort will never get over.

Hector nodded enthusiastically, his playful demeanor melting away to reveal the warmth of his love for her. “Much better,” he replied, pressing a tender kiss to her lips.

“I love you,” he says in between kisses

Passion ignited between them, fueling their kisses with an intensity that left them breathless. Hector’s hands roamed freely, tracing the contours of her body as they pressed closer together, their hearts beating in sync.

Their kisses grew deeper, more fervent, as they surrendered to the heat of their desire. Hector’s girlfriend melted into his arms, her hands tangling in his hair as they explored each other with an urgency that spoke of their deep connection.

In that stolen moment of intimacy, Hector and his girlfriend found solace in each other’s embrace, their love expressed through the tender caress of their lips and the passion that burned between them. And as they melted into each other, Hector knew that their bond was unbreakable, their love eternal.

[pennyserenade]

the devil hath power

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, coriolanus snow x you, coriolanus snow x nameless reader (no use of y/n) rating: e (explicit, 18+) tags/warnings: talk of sex work (sometimes negatively), sex work, dubious consent, illusions of sex, talk of previous sexual acts, class differences, classism. word count: 4.4k summary: Coriolanus Snow catches up with an old acquaintance. Neither of them really recognizes the other, not in any way that matters, but that's just as well for the scion of the Plinth family fortune. Well, until the meeting takes a turn he hadn't expected it to. a/n: well. fiction is such a slippery slope sometimes. i in no way condone the actions of coriolanus snow, nor am i romanticizing him or what he would come to do later. i think he's a vile person. having said that, i wouldn't consider this a scathing, well-crafted critique of him, either. i wanted to explore this character, to see what made him tick by putting him in a situation where he has to confront issues he merely bumped into in the book/movie. there is a high possibility of a part 2.

part two | part three

She had not asked for Coriolanus’ name because she had not needed to. Tonight, when she had turned to look at him, she knew. His white locks had been made iridescent under the shine of the club lights and he had pressed an orderly hand to the crease of her elbow before leaning in and asking her about her services, but even beneath the cool facade of his professionalism, she knew. Even despite the fact that she hadn’t seen him since they were children, she knew. 

Illuminated in a soft hue now, Coriolanus looked sharp. He was not only angular, having retained the features of his youth, but honed in, acutely attuned to the surroundings in which she had taken him. Dressed in his Capital attire, he achieved the effect of looking both handsome and ever-important, even merely standing at the end of her bed, arms bowed behind him. His eyes, seas of piercing blue typically, were darker now, covered by the veil of orange thrown from her bedside lamp. He looked impossibly grown, so much older than even herself, the way adults had when she was a child. 

She would describe him as a statuesque beauty, with hair so blond it faired white--like stony marble under a wash of sunlight. He had bow lips, long lashes, but they were paired with a generous nose and hard, serious eyes, masculine twists meant to overrule how pretty he indeed was. He reminded her of the paintings of kings, standing ramrod straight, noble in essence as much as material. Beneath her gaze, he attempted to wear a face of careful neutrality, and it worked—aside from the occasional tic of his jaw.

The backsplash of her bedroom, which had smelled vaguely of mildew for a long time, and which was void of any real material excess, seemed to embarrass them both. She was not used to men like him—men who had a sense of themselves within these four walls. Seduction was easier when men were rendered stupid by their desire, but Coriolanus seemed neither possessed nor particularly interested in his. If he was aroused, the sleek design of his suit did much to conceal it. Given, she had not so much as taken off a single layer of clothing but then, most men were stumbling at the door frame of her apartment building, swelling from the mere anticipation of what she offered. But not Coriolanus. He studied her with a surgeon’s precision, clinical and measured.

His throat bopped and their lapse of silence, which had begun after she had escorted him out of the club, continued on, steady. She’d been with men like him before, many of them. They all had the designs of fortune and wealth written into their fates, had since they were born, but eventually it ran deeper, weaving into their accents, their dress, their stance, their occupations, their beliefs. Rumor had it that Coriolanus Snow had his sights on the presidency. She could see it to be true. Word of mouth had it that he was already what they called a Gamemaker’s assistant, and young one. Brilliant, tenacious, and perfectly angry. It was odd to see him as such, having remembered him as something of a precocious fawn—a white haired boy who sat quietly and absorbed the world through azure eyes when they were children. But then this was life. 

If wanted her to she'd praise him for the Games, tell him about the brilliance of his young mind for contriving such a sinister punishment for the little ruts of the Districts. She’d done it before. At first it had felt like selling a part of herself she had not been prepared to auction off, but it came to mean next to nothing, just another act. Like the men that entered her ruined home and laid her down despite the noxious fumes of an expired dream wafting around them, she felt as if this interaction did not count. As if it wasn’t real. They grunted and huffed and used her, but she used them, too. For money. For power. Sometimes even for pleasure—but very rarely. 

“Do you want me to undress?” she spoke demurely. 

His face contorted with a flash of distaste before it went back to cool indifference. She made a note of this. Vulgarity, directness—it was not his flavor. Maybe he liked Avox silence; men had such proclivities. The rich and powerful typically had wives who could play the part of the beautifully silent, but some of them still wanted it. 

He wetted the bottom of his lip. “I remember you.” 

“Yes. I studied with you,” she confessed. There was no point in lying.“As children. Not so much when we got older.”

“Right,” he nodded, “I knew you looked familiar.” 

He began to inspect the meager contents of her room. Everything felt anachronistic when he stood next to it, ugly and decrepit in comparison to his modern look. He picked up a music box she had been gifted as a child, his lips twitching into a grin as the ballerina began to twirl mechanically. For a moment he watched it, filling the entire room with the melodic sounds of her childhood. It was dream-like and bitter.

Did he remember what she had looked like back then? How the sleek red uniform fit her, or how the shiny Mary Janes on her feet were always polished, or how the ruffles of her white socks were perfect, never out of place? They’d all been so grandiose before the Dark Days, so conceited and pleasantly happy. And now—well. This. 

The lid of the box snapped shut. Over his shoulder Coriolanus said, “As I grow older, I’ve begun to find music terribly frivolous. I’m sure you can agree.” 

He continued to look, fingers poking around in trays of old jewelry, picking up compacts of makeup and smiling softly as he turned the items in his hands. “It’s like a museum,” he whispered. His eyes searched out for her. Something infinitely softer took hold of him for a moment. “This is what I remember from before…Incredible.” Then, almost instantly, a perceptible change: “Why, if you sell yourself to clients as rich as you do, do you live in squalor? Surely you don’t do what you do for fun?” 

The criticism latent in his tone made her defenses rise, but her resignation made her stronger; she sat up, stock straight, and looked at him through a narrowed gaze. This wasn’t the first time a man of his stature had done something like this. It was common at first. They snapped at her like she was the one who had guided them here, but eventually they accepted it for what it was, or they pretended it wasn’t anything at all. 

“Why are you here, Coriolanus?” she asked evenly. 

The compact was replaced on her table as he turned to face her fully. He smiled and somehow it was cruel because it belonged to him. “Because I want to know,” he answered, “how the other half lives.” 

Her lips twisted up. “The other half?” 

“Those who didn’t make it out of the Dark Days. Those who have resorted to—“ he swung his hand, motioning to the room, to her “—to this and other acts like it.” 

She turned to look out the window. Outside the Capital sparkled in the night; it was a city once again bustling with life, beautiful and ornate, no doubt at the bloom of its productivity. This view made everything seem worth it at times. “And your estimate?” she asked. 

“Not finished,” he answered plainly. 

Out of the corner of her eye she watched him shrug off his overcoat. He slung it over a wooden chair that sat by the door. 

“Sorry there’s no coat check; I’ve seemed to have left it in the past,” she taunted. 

He answered her sharpness with a look of haughty disdain.

“Bad customer service,” was the remark that carried over to her — a verbal tsk tsk. There was an impishness to it, too. Her inability to read him from moment to moment — or rather, the fact that she was constantly having to reanalyze him — was confounding. It discontented her. 

“Mr. Snow,” she began, but he interfered almost immediately. 

“Please — Coriolanus.” 

Her eyebrow rose. “Is that what you prefer?” 

He read between the lines, smirking. “It’s what you said before —it’s what you prefer.” A laugh, less wicked than the smile but not entirely void of it, sounded through the room. It was so goddamn rich, not velvet and warmth, but cold, calculated. Like the cool of gold on warm skin. “Believe it or not, I’m not here for the sake of illicit pleasure. I can’t say this particular occupation feels me with—“ He waved an absent hand “—joy, for lack of a better word.”

She breathed out through her nose. “Do let us not pretend that you don’t know the word lust. Arousal. Horny. You’re brilliant, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know about these things?” 

His angular jaw ticked once more. “Whores are all so crass, aren’t they? The ignominy of being a body that someone can buy–doesn’t it make you sick?”

She scoffed. “You’re terribly repressed, given that you sought me out.” 

He shook his head, as if steadying himself. “I want to be President one day and I’m not so naive as to think what you do isn’t in demand—or that it will ever cease to be. Especially here.” His anger began to ebb as he continued. “People are crass; it’s human nature. We are all brutes, primal, ugly when it comes down to it. You watch the Games–you see” His took up his rigidity once more. “I want to learn about it, what you do. The ins, the outs.” 

She stared unblinkingly at him.“That information will cost–a good deal,” she said. 

A flicker of a smile twitched at his lips. “Everything does eventually. That is one thing I do admire about your occupation: it is purely transactional. Perhaps if love was half as simple as this, you wouldn’t have a job.”

“Perhaps not. But it isn’t.” 

“No,” he shook his head, “It’s certainly not.”

She smoothed out the fabric of her dress. “Why me? There’s many women who do what I do.”

The question incited him. She was beginning to pick up on the patterns of his erratic behavior; there was a flare in his eyes, a perceptible twinkle, and his eyebrows lifted slightly. And his lips—they twitched whenever he felt something strongly. “I watched you for a few weeks and I noticed that you were more clever than the other women. They were tactless, too obvious. But you—you played the game beautifully, like it was an art.” He seemed to smile to himself. “You dress Capital, you talk Capital. If you’re hungry, you don’t make it too obvious. You’ve gone into painstaking detail to ensure that you’re undetectable and people want you more for it.”

“So you picked me because I have manners?” 

She wanted to guffaw, to tell him no, but something told her not to. It was not fear as much as the slow drip of anticipation. He hovered near her like a predator getting ready to pounce, a glimmer of unnerving honesty shining in his darkened eyes, and she could see him now for all he was. But she could not understand him. This incited her. 

With the unwavering confidence of a young God, he lifted his chin up and said, “I picked you because I think you know better than most what it is to hunger. You remind me of myself in that way.”

Maybe this should’ve repulsed her most of all, to be put in a box so narrow, so utterly against how she viewed herself. But it didn’t; it made her comfortable, not pilant to wishes but more certain of her own. He’d done a fine job nitpicking her up until this point, but now she had the upper hand again. This was her domain, her game. 

The smug smile that grew on her lips was a mirror of his own. Without taking her eyes off of his, she rose to her knees on the bed and crawled to the end, the blue velvet of her dress pillowing around her knees, her waist. He was an avid watcher, seemingly holding his breath as her arms reached behind her and unzipped the dress. The fabric slipped down her arms, unveiling a creamy silk bra, so thin as to be transparent. 

“It’s new,” he spoke softly, surprised. He seemed to be questioning this. His eyes looked to hers for answers—or maybe they were trying not to look elsewhere, lest they find something they liked. 

“My home may be out of fashion but I am not,” she cooed. Charm. He wanted charm. She could see that plainly now. Coriolanus was a man who needed to be in control but he wanted to be seduced. He was just like the rest of them. 

Peeling off the rest of the cocktail dress, she bared to him the matching cream bottoms, which were just as sheer as the top. She knew what he could see: her mons pubis, the seductive patch of hair that promised more. And he looked, too. Of course he did. They all said they wouldn’t and then they did and this man, however brilliant he may be, however cool and calculated, was just like the rest of them. This simple fact thrilled her more than anything had in a long while. 

To think if life had gone the way it was supposed to, she might’ve married someone like him. Maybe it might have even been him. His family had come from what her mother would’ve referred to as “good stock” and his father Crassus had been a close acquaintance of her father’s. It seemed, however, that Crassus had prepared more adequately for his own children than her father had his. If she hadn’t contended with the fact so long ago, she might’ve hated Coriolanus based on the simple fact that he’d remained intact after the war and she hadn’t. 

“I won’t sleep with you for money,” he spoke up. His voice did not quiver but she could sense the weakness settling in.  

Her fingers tucked beneath the collar of his dress shirt. “And I won’t sleep with you for free,” she said in response. She leaned close to him, so close she could feel his breath on her face. “And moreover, to answer your question from earlier: there’s no ignominy to being a body for sale because it sells for an awful lot, Coriolanus. I’m wise with my money. I’m headed towards a staggering amount of wealth, and I’ve got good sense. You pegged me right, but you also got me terribly wrong.”

“This place—“ he began but she cut him off. 

“Is hollowed out and pathetic, I agree. But one day it won’t be, and when that day comes I won’t take people like you to it.” 

Another lip twitch. “How much?”

“For what?” She smoothed out the fabric, running her hands down his arms. 

“What you do—your services.” 

“It depends.”

He stiffened. “On what?”

“What they ask me to do. How long. Where. Who they are.”

His head hung before he came out with his next sentence.  “And for me, what would it cost?”

“What do you want?” 

“This is hypothetical,” he reminded her coolly. Placing his hands over hers and moving them, he attempted to sway them back to their uneven dynamic. She could feel the tremble in his hand as he did. 

“Hypothetically, what would you want?” she corrected. She sat her hands in her lap.  

“Tell me what you do.” 

“That’ll cost,” she reminded. 

Though he smiled, she could tell his patience with her was wearing. “I’ll pay anything,” he repeated. For  effect or perhaps for power he added, “And I do mean anything. If you want to once again take your rightful place amongst the people in the Capital, I’ll see to it.”

She licked her lips and considered him. “For a man who hates people like me, you’re sure forgiving.”

“Like I said, you remind me of myself.” He gripped her chin between his fingers and she gasped from the unexpected coldness of his flesh on hers, but did not flinch. His hold was not rough or commanding, but oddly familiar, almost affectionate. 

“When I was younger, there was this girl,” he began, staring down at her lips, “She was just someone in a dark alleyway that my friends had gotten me as a dare. We kissed and kissed, but it felt like nothing. It was just kissing—and that’s what I thought it was for a long time. It wasn’t particularly exciting, nothing to ruin yourself for. Then there was another girl.” His jaw set. “I’m sorry to say I loved this girl, to the point of destruction, to the point of foolishness. After her I understood why a man might seek girls like you out. I find it distasteful, but that’s what we are as a people. Stupid, primal. We want it all and we always have. That’s why the Districts came to be, and why they always will be.”

He let her go. She watched carefully as he stepped back and began his searching pace around her room once more. His movements carried more deliberation, and none of the objects kept his attention this time. She let him speak, let him run himself into whatever dark, myopic hole he was headed towards. 

“They like their cocks sucked,” he spoke with open vulgarity, almost as if delighting in the freedom of the word. He was like a school boy who tries out a naughty word for the first time and finds it fits in his youthful mouth too well; he’ll go his whole youth trying not to say it again around the adults. “I imagine rough too, and in impersonal positions, except for those few unexceptional men who have wives that don’t particularly like them or want them. Maybe they don’t even have wives, your men.” He laughed through his nose at the idea, and let himself get carried away in the broken world he made of these men. “Yes. You’ve got insecure men at your door, ones who are ashamed and pleading and they fuck you like you mean everything to them. They hate themselves and what they’ve done. Weak men who can’t cope with their power or their riches. I knew a man like that. He would’ve paid you billions. Would’ve asked you to marry him before you even touched him out of some imagined indenture he had to people like you.” 

Coriolanus smiled ruefully, but his voice was hard and bitter. “He was a goddamn fool. Not all are like that, though.” 

She caught his eyes in her old vanity. His eyebrows rose in question. She nodded, though not necessarily in agreement with anything he said. She wanted him to continue. 

“Sometimes you get men like me. Of course not exactly like me, but they aren’t the weaker of us. They’re strange, exotic, and think that whatever takes hold of them will ruin them one day so they’ve got to go to you. They can’t ask a Capital girl to do what they want. It depends on the upbringing, but I imagine these men have a wide selection of desires, some decidedly repulsive and some so wholesome, so mundane, you find them endearingly, or even irritatingly, prudish. For example, a man who likes to get on his knees and taste you.” 

Her mouth opened as if to speak, and he seemed to sense this imperceptible movement, turning around. She looked at him and he, back at her. “It’s not repulsive,” she said softly. “Nothing I let them do to me is ever repulsive. I have my boundaries.”

This seemed to excite him most of all. “Of course. Where’s the line, then?” 

“When they ask me to pretend to be a District girl. That one…your tribute—“

“Lucy Gray,” he whispered. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she heard reverence in his voice. Anguish. 

“Her. I got a lot of requests for a while.” 

She could not tell what went over him in that moment, only that it was overwhelming. He ran his hand through his hair and swallowed hard. “And you never did that?” he asked her, his tone almost accusatory. 

She was happy to answer honestly: “Never.”

He nodded, pacing the floor again. He was more manic, as if set off by this information. “Do they tell you secrets, these men?”

“Yes,” she answered simply. 

“Do you tell their secrets?” 

She shook her head once in answer. He was made of stone, total nothingness. “Not once. It’s why I’m so popular,” she added. He nodded. 

“Your favorite clients, what are they like?” This question seemed like a throwaway, one he asked because he couldn’t think straight. 

She frowned watching him. “They’re somewhere between the men you call weak and the ones you think are most like you. Some of them are young, about our age. There’s nothing wrong with them, not even what they ask for.”

He continued his pace. “And what do they ask for?”

“For normal sex, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Sometimes they just want to kiss me. One of my favorites asked me about my life, this room, the hallway, the pictures no one ever seemed to notice. In turn told me about himself. He wanted normal conversation, a man and a woman speaking as if nothing in the world had ever gone wrong. He wanted to pretend, I guess.” She shrugged. She didn't remember his name, only that he was important in an insignificant way—at least that’s how he described it. She never saw him again. 

“What else?” Coriolanus began to slow. He chewed at his fingernails and remained vaguely distracted. 

“Another came in his pants, tasting of me, like you called it.” He wasn’t one of her favorites, but the vividness of it did what she wanted it to: Coriolanus appeared interested. He titled his head to the side, as if approving of the story. She was putting on a show for him. If he was more transparent she could imagine him asking for more like that. So she gave more. “And another wanted me to rub against him, clothed. He wanted me to sit in his lap and make myself orgasm. And another, he wanted to watch. Some men are like that. He stood where you are now and he touched himself as I spoke. And another touched himself while I touched myself. Though I guess you figure that might be crass.” 

His sleek suit did little to conceal what the last image inspired in him. A red tint gathered on his cheeks and he raised his hand. “That’ll be enough.” 

She stopped speaking. A seed had been planted, and this victory was hers even if she did nothing with it. How terrible this was for a composed Coriolanus Snow. His hand clutched at the bedpost and he looked at her then with unflinching distaste. And then it came: a wave of astounding want when the band of her thin bra slid down her arm. She reached out for him but he did not go. 

“Why?” he whispered. 

She looked up at him earnestly. “Why not?” she returned. 

Cupping her cheeks in the hollow of his hands, he leaned in and kissed her with a bruising intensity. No affection, no illusion. He kissed much like he did business: straight to the narrow point. It was the shortest minute of her life and yet also the longest. When he released her, he looked as he had before. Strong. Unwaveringly cool. His blue eyes shut her out and his freshly kissed lips did not even so much as twitch. But something had changed. 

“That’ll be enough,” he echoed again. He was trying to find strength in his convictions, but not doing very well with it. It was not often he found himself in the position of relenting his control, but where there was hunger, there was a divine need to quelch it, no matter the cost. And he did hunger: for knowledge, for desire, for her. How he despised the pang of it in his chest, no foreign object but an unwelcome visitor. 

His finger trailed down her neck to her shoulder. He took the strap of her bra between his hands and drew it down. She let him. The anticipation came back to her. He was like a game, something she would contend with later. It was like her job, like her position in life: things she dealt with one incremental step at the time until what was big felt little. This would not make her a bad person. 

She shimmed the fabric beneath her breast and he looked apathetic, almost as if she had driven him past the point of even frustration. But the bulge in his slacks grew. Pride swelled in her chest but she remained stoic, pliant, hoping against hope that he’d give in, do what a thousand men before him had done, if only she could convince him it was his doing. What a better way to learn what the Capital wanted than to experience it for yourself? She wanted to ravage him, to take from him his stubborn distaste, to make him into one of those pathetic, warbling men in his imaginings. One day you’ll be ruined by this. 

But sense came to him, bit by bit. He heaved a sigh, as if disappointed by some external factor that had forced his hand, and returned a silky strap to her shoulders. She watched, both surprised and confused. He smiled, but it was void of anything substantial as joy. Maybe there was defeat, but she wasn’t sure.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said, stepping towards the door and towards his coat on the chair. She watched the muscles of his back ripple beneath his shirt as he slipped the red fabric back on, quietly astounded by the abrupt way he had changed track. 

“My money,” the words found her. 

He nodded his head, but did not turn. “You’ll get it,” he promised. His voice bounced off the door, hollow and thin. 

She eyed him carefully, waiting for him to open the door and escape out of it. She wanted him to. There was a certain cowardice to this action, too, something that she could cope with and he wouldn’t be able to. His hand went to the door, white on gold, and he clinched it. “Next time, the game will be different,” he said. 

And with those parting words, he was gone.  

[changbunnies]

Crave, Part 1 (18+)

♡ Pairing: Romantic Demon!Hyunjin x Human Fem!Reader

♡ Genre: supernatural au, demon au, age gap relationship typical in monster fucker fics, intended to be porn with plot but atm there is more plot than porn lol

♡ Word Count: 3.6k

♡ Summary: "The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain." - Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy. In which Hyunjin, a demon from the nine circles of hell, finds himself impossibly infatuated with the very human he once set upon himself to destroy.

♡ Warnings: don’t read if you’ll be uncomfortable over talks about religion from the perspective of a demon!, themes of sexual purity in the context of religion, a lot of immoral behavior and thoughts + ideas from hyunjin, supernatural abilities, themes of possesiveness, the seven deadly sins are brought up multiple times, hyun is thousands of years old so take that as you will lol, hell's structure is based off dante alighieri's depiction of it in the divine comedy but knowledge of it isn't necessary to enjoy this fic!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): there isn't really any overt smut in this first part it's more like referenced sexual activity, masturbation, voyeurism (hyun is watching reader while they're unaware he is there), porn watching

♡ Notes: after receiving feedback, i'll now be posting my long fics in multiple parts as i finish them like i do on ao3 instead of waiting until it's finished to post here! i'm taking a break from my royal au series to finally write out this fic i've had rattling in my brain since last september but never got around to writing until this past month :') idk how long this will be in the end but i'm planning at least 3 parts! i hope you stick around till the end <3

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

There are many things in this world, the world of humans, that even a monster such as Hyunjin was born to desire. A primal want, weaved into the very fabric of his being, designed to be etched into his soul- if he had one, that is. That is what initially brought him here; the heart of one of the world's most populated cities, his territory an otherwise unoccupied luxury suite in one of the many skyrises that line the bustling streets.

It was an ideal place to be; there wasn't much in the way of furniture, given that it's a new development with no human occupants, but the amenities it held were sleek and pristine. High windows that overlooked the entirety of the city rife with sin from what was nearly the top floor, marble countertops that screamed sophistication and elegance, and well equipped with security of both the physical and digital kind to keep out those who may want to chase the thrill of wandering where they do not belong. Hyunjin, who could simply float about wherever he wished, had no need for human things like beds or sofas.

In this space, he already had everything he needed- an ideal vantage point, isolation from the world until he himself chose to interact with it, and easy access to the myriad of damned soul that walked the streets beneath him. It was perfect, and it was his- until you showed up.

Hyunjin was no stranger to dealing with potential renters overtaking his territory- it was only natural for those with wealth to be ready to spend a fortune on the newest availble luxury apartment that catches their eye. While Hyunjin had never once been seen; he was certainly known; rumors abound of an evil presence in suite 13, that left even non-believers fleeing in terror, leaving as quickly as they came. "Evil" felt a bit extreme of a description from Hyunjin's perspective, but what would humans truly understand of him? 

He always felt as if his actions were completely justified; after all, why should a being with immense power such as him bend to the will of a measely human whose life was akin to a grain of sand in the desert of immortality that was his own lifespan? Regardless of his justifications and thoughts on what is evil and what isn't, he welcomed the fear humans have towards him- it made his life easier if they feared him and stayed far from his domain. 

And yet here you were, seemingly ignorant of the fearful reputation this apartment held (not that he expected that the building's landlord would have informed you of it, of course- their only goal is money, at the end of the day.) Hyunjin didn't care for the rules of humans- whether or not you'd supplied the necessary money to purchase your way here or were deserving of it made no difference to him. It was his until he decided otherwise, and you were trespassing on his territory by being here.

When he'd first arrived back after a long outing back in his home within the second circle of the nine hells, only to see you filling his space with your things, walking about the apartment as if you owned it, blissfully unaware of his presence- it was infuriating. He had half a mind to scare you out right then, forever scar you by showing you his true form, send you running as he'd done to countless before you who tried to be here. But no, that wouldn't be enough. It would be letting you off too easily for his liking; this was different than scaring off someone who might intrude on his home- you already had.

What he wanted was more than his territory back- he wanted to make you suffer the most egregious torment one could ever endure for intruding on it, something far worse and much harsher than whatever a demon below his stature could muster. You deserved worse than that of mild terror, or to be able to flee from his space without repercussions for your transgression. No, he would only take back what was his after he'd turned your mind into a den of paranoia and hysteria. You needed to know true terror, true loss, true suffering, by his hand.

So he settled for observing you- it would be a longer process, one that could easily take months to reach true fruition, but the reward would be well worth his patience. He watched carefully, intently, his presence always concealed but unmistakably there. You would feel it sometimes, unbeknownst to yourself. A sudden chill up your spine, the subtle feeling of being watched making you turn your head, only to be met with nothing unusual in your line of sight. Funny, how humans were so attuned to the supernatural while simultaneously being so oblivious to their reality.

Your routines became committed to his memory, your every step and every action becoming increasingly familiar to him. Boring at times, but necessary if he wanted to learn the ins and outs of what makes you you, taking in every detail and memorizing them fully, so that when the day comes for him to turn your life into a miserable tragedy, forming you into a shell of who you once were, you'd have to beg him for forgiveness, for his mercy.

What were your fears? He'd easily make them reality. What did you hate? He'd make sure you suffered it. What broke your heart? He'd subject you to that pain over and over, until your heart was left shattered into a million, microscopic pieces. And it was only then, when you were mentally destroyed, the lowest you could ever possibly be and unrecognizable in your despair, that he'd appear before you, triumphant as he made you apologize for ever having stepped foot in his domain.

But as he observed you, he came to realize something strange- something he had never once found himself thinking about a human before. You were so... good, the closest to perfection a human could ever possibly be. And not perfect by the bullshit puritan standards set by the "heavenly creator," because you were as touched by sin as any human is, but perfect to him specifically.

Your sins were few and far between, with only one making a substantial impact on your purity; but it was the most important, most delicious sin of them all, the one that made Hyunjin's body seethe with delectable desire. You weren't envious, nor greedy or gluttonous; you lived in a luxurious penthouse suite, that was true, but greed to have the best of everything isn't what brought you here. The pride you felt for your accomplishments didn't go anywhere near sinful levels- you were proud of yourself, but not in such a way that you looked down on others while you sat atop your high horse.

You weren't slothful, brought to your current position by your own hard work and tireless efforts, and you weren't wrathful either, your emotions toward your fellow man always sweet, compassionate, and gracious. That only left one sin- just one that impacted your soul, that barred you from reaching true, godly purity.

Lust.

It wasn't an unhealthy amount of lust by any means, but any at all is enough to damn an unmarried woman's soul if she gives in to the temptation- an unfair ruling that has cost many their rightful place in paradise. And you certainly did give in to your temptation, and that is what made you perfect to him. You had none of the avarice of other humans, none of the undesirable qualities that made them foolish and arrogant and insufferable to deal with, instead held closely by one desire, the most important desire.

Was it a coincidence, he wondered? That he, a demon born of lust himself, found one such human that seemed to adhere perfectly to what he enjoys most? Hyunjin often felt himself above that of the sins his brothers were born to pursue. Violence did not suit him, emotions such as greed, pride, and jealousy often went beyond his comprehension. And not because he was some lowly, ignorant creature who was only capable of thinking with his dick, but because those feelings simply never came to him to begin with.

What was there to be jealous of? If he wanted something, he could have it, he could take it, as simple as that. Was he prideful? Sure, one could say he was, say that he had an ego, but he would argue that there was a clear difference between the arrogance that often comes with pride, and simply having confidence in one's own abilities and joy in their accomplishments.

He knew he could feel other emotions, indulge in other sins, if his brothers' conquests and actions were any tell, but he simply.. didn't. Lust was all he knew, was all that he enjoyed, but at the same time, he wasn't some low level demon who was consumed by lust. No, he could control it quite easily if he wished, was more than capable of waiting for the most ideal moment to finally savor in the addictive dance two bodies can share. (Or more than two bodies, should one prefer that.)

Lust was all he ever knew, but unlike the sex-starved beasts he ruled over and observed in his circle within hell, he was very much in control of himself. Make no mistake, it never went away, he always felt the gnawing craving for more and more and more- but it never addled his mind. That was the perk of being a demon with a higher consciousness than that of say.. an imp. He had complete control of his compulsions and desires. 

It was this control over himself that led to Hyunjin savoring the lust that poured from human souls in only the most ideal conditions. There were many different kinds of lust, each with their own "taste" so to speak, and while Hyunjin found them all enjoyable to at least some degree, there was one in particular that was the most intoxicating to him, one that never failed to light a fire within him, the one that was always, always, worth waiting for.

The lust between two lovers, whose care for eachother was true, and good, and special- such as you would see from couples sleeping together for the first time, full to the brim with nervous excitement. Or maybe from long-time lovers reigniting their spark with a romantic night spent together after a warm, candlelit date. Especially delectable was the sweet consummation after making an eternal promise under God to be together forever, in sickness and in health, 'til death do you part. Those are just a few examples of the sort of lust that gave Hyunjin the best, sweetest taste.

The irony of being an immoral entity who gained the most enjoyment out of love and romance wasn't lost on him, but his preferences weren't built on some misconceived notion that he could aspire to feel those things himself. Yes, Hyunjin knew he would never feel the human emotion that was love, but he could understand, at least on a superficial level, why it tasted so sweet, and why humans seemed to fight for that feeling above all else.

Perhaps he existed to be a hypocrite, sowing seeds of chaos and turmoil while valuing true love, contradicting that which humans believed they knew about demons of lust such as himself. After all, was it not the very nature of a demon to confuse, contradict, and twist the human condition? And was it not utterly against his being to indulge in a feeling that was considered sacred by God? It didn't matter either way; if there was one thing that Hyunjin knew for certain, it was that sweet tastes were the best, and it didn't matter where it originated from or how- he just knew he liked it.

And oh, how his proverbial heart jolted when he sensed it on you the first time he saw you touching yourself. It was a surprise when, after a long day of unpacking and arranging furniture, you let your hand travel sinfully between your legs with a heady sigh- and far be it from Hyunjin to deny himself the opportunity to feed on a human's lust when it's practically being delivered to him on a silver platter. You hadn't been touching yourself for long, barely got your panties down your legs when he tasted it- subtle, but familiar enough to Hyunjin that he could recognize it anywhere.

It was hard to explain the sweet taste in human terms- there were really no words that could come close to describing it, as the "flavor" itself didn't exist within human understanding. Suffice it to say, it was something entirely unique to his kind, and something any demon would be able to distinguish with ease should they be in close enough proximity. It was unmistakable- you loved someone. That was information that could serve him well, something that he should be delighted to know he could ruin you with. And yet, for the first time in all his thousands of years, the feeling of lustful love left a bitter taste on his tongue.

You were in love.. And you envisioned that person while your fingers were buried between your legs, as you bit your lip and made your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Who was it? Why did you love them? Were they even deserving of someone as perfect as you? Did they deserve to touch you? To feel you? Hyunjin grit his teeth, fists clenching into tight balls as an unfamiliar feeling began to permeate through the entirety of his being.

Is this.. what envy feels like? A rage beyond comprehension at the thought of someone else having you when it should be him? He should be the one you desired to have touching you, the one you imagined marking your unmarred skin, the one who made you cry out and tremble with even the simplest of touches. Would they even indulge in the sweet taste you radiate like he would? Would they even understand what perfection it is you offer simply by being? His, you should be his, only his, his, his.

The realization hit Hyunjin like cold water over hot skin- he wants you. And not just for one night, not superficially, not with needing to part ways afterwards. He wants you to love him, wants the feeling of love-drenched lust that radiates off you to be because of him, wants you to belong to him and him alone. You don't know him yet, but you will. And he'll make sure you're left wanting him, and only him, by any means necessary. Because it's what he wants, and he always gets what he wants.

Hyunjin wants to say it's simple curiosity that leads him to carefully stealing your phone off your nightstand once you've fallen asleep, or that's acting with the desire to know how to ruin the target of his ire more succinctly, but that simply isn't true. No, he is scrounging through your phone not with the intent to learn your greatest fears and hates, nor does he scour your messages to discover your darkest secrets.

It's a different purpose that has led him here, an unfamiliar ache that drives him to search your phone for something more. In hindsight, going through your phone to learn about you is a simple, easy act he could've, should've, done already, but he's a bit of a traditionalist in that regard. (Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit how much he's liked watching you these past few weeks.)

Who is that you love? And why? It would've been easier for him to find out had you truly let yourself go, allowed yourself to be loud and moan their name to your heart's content, but you hadn't. And maybe that was a good thing, as hearing someone else's name leave your lips in such a moment would've definitely sent him into a dangerous hate spiral, but that also meant he was left with nothing to go on as a clue.

He was much too stunned, and then seething with anger and jealousy, to read your thoughts in the moment, and if he tried to do so now, while you were sleeping, all he would do is catch a glimpse of your dreams- not helpful in the slightest, unless you happen to be dreaming of the object of your desire. (Which you weren't. He already looked.)

Unlocking your phone is easy, as he's seen you put in your password several times over at this point. Unfortunately for him however, (and fortunate for the one undeserving of Hyunjin's wrath,) he finds nothing that makes the object of your affection explicitly obvious. Your texts with friends all use the same tone, you talk about mundane things like what movies are coming out or how you wish you could go on a vacation for a while.

Your photo gallery is relatively small, filled mostly by screenshots of things you wish to remember or keep for a laugh, and the occasional selfie. There's nothing that screams "this is the person i'm in love with!" no matter where in your phone he looks, and if it wasn't for how intensely he felt the emotion radiating from you as your fingers sped up and release built, he'd think he must have imagined it.

What interesting this he does find, however, are the differen't porn links littered through your incognito tabs, all that paint a very vivid picture of what you find most appealing, or in more vulgar terms, what gets your pussy really fucking wet. He skims through your collection of favorites and private bookmarks, and quickly comes to realize they all hold a similar theme- love, romance, and doms who are soft even when being rough with the sub's body or speaking condescending words.

Various videos and audio files, with titles such as "roommate gets railed after confessing her secret feelings," "pov: boy next door accidentally confesses and then fucks you passionately," and "soft dom makes his good girl cum hard: boyfriend asmr." There's even an entire erotic movie, much to Hyunjin's surprise, with a 2 hour run time and dedicated plot in your recent bookmarks.

He decides to watch it, for research purposes of course- what better way to get to know the object of his desire than by watching the porn she consumes for himself? It's rather generic as far as ideas go- childhood best friends confessing their love before going away to college, with sweet, sensual but desperate fucking and a promise they'll be in love no matter the distance put between them. A cliché plot, by human media standards. 

However, he has to give it due props- it's obviously not an amateur production. It's acted well, has better cinematography than one might expect for a film produced by a porn studio, and the dialogue never crosses into cringe, overtly fake territory. Despite it all, something about it feels real, as if he'd taken a genuine glimpse into the lives of two young people in love, rather than a manufactured video meant to make the people who watch it unbearably horny.

Hyunjin continued through your collection after that, eager to see what other gems lied in your favorites, waiting to be watched by him. They're all the same fundamentally speaking, your preferences and biases easily shining through with each video watched and audio listened to. Emotionally charged, romantic confessions, sweet "i love you"s, soft, caring doms who take good care of the submissive one, making them feel desired, beautiful, and secure.

The person you're in love with, the one who lingers in your mind when you watch these videos and your hand travels between your legs- this is what you want them to do. You want them to love you passionately, to make you fall apart in the sweetest of ways, to take care of you so well that your thoughts can linger on nothing but the way they make you feel. You want them to sweetly tell you they love you while they fuck you, to speak filthy words in your ears in a soft, saccharine voice as they make you cum. To fuck you dumb, to ruin you, and then expertly put you back together with a tender touch. 

Carefully, he puts your phone back in its place, looking at you once he's done, still sound asleep in your bed and without a clue in the world that there's a demon standing before you, close enough to touch. You've lived with Hyunjin for weeks now, but you don't know who he is, don't know that he's there, don't know that you have unexpectedly become the reason for a demon's strange and new complex emotions. Isn't it funny? How a demon as powerful as him has become infatuated with you despite you not even knowing he exists.

It's illogical to desire you, truly. Humans are fickle, subject to corruption and irrationality, their lives impossibly short. What one man works his entire life to obtain, Hyunjin can have in mere moments with a fraction of the effort. To a being that has lived thousands of years, the life of a human happens in a mere blink. You grow old, you get sick, you die, your accomplishments fade to nothing, forgotten as the next wave of humans walk the earth in your stead. You're beneath him, he's better than you, and yet..

Why does he still crave you so? Maybe he's no better than the humans he's looked down upon, considering them lesser for their innate hypocrisies and irrational actions- because Hyunjin is about to do just the same. His feelings for you are hypocritical, irrational, foolish, but also the most real thing he's ever felt. And if it's romance you want, that will make you fall head over heels for him, then he'll be the most romantic demon the nine hells have ever known.

[missmeinyourbones]

LOVIN’ YOU IS EASY

cw: slice of life, very soft & domestic, slightly suggestive, megumi gets a love boner LOL, aged up characters (as always!!!) 

It’s decently late, nearly midnight, when Megumi finally comes home. 

His day was on the longer side, one of his missions running late into the night—not to mention the heavy rain refusing to let up making everything feel slower and colder and worse. He’d made sure to send you a text that he’d be home late, reminding you not to wait up for him, that he’d come home to you all the same.

So he’s careful to be extra quiet when silently squeezing through the door and locking it behind him. Squeaky boots dragging on the hardwood floor, he carefully wiggles them off of his feet before flicking on the tiny lamp beside him. 

In the barely illuminated apartment, he can now see your curled-up blob of a frame laying comfortably on the couch, softly rubbing your squinting your eyes at the sudden light. 

He sighs, one equally filled with disappointment and relief at the comforting sight.

“What are you doing out here?” he gently hisses.

The umbrella he sets down is damp with glittered raindrops. His actions are less cautious now that he knows you’re close but awake. 

He watches you slightly sit up against the arm of the couch. “Waitin’ for you,” you groggily state the obvious.

Megumi’s eyebrows slightly crease with disapproval, “I told you not to.”

“Yeah, and you should know by now that I don’t listen to you.”

He smiles at that—he shouldn’t, but he does. 

That's just the way things are between the two of you. Always turning a blind eye to your own best interests in replace of looking out for one another. He thinks that's what love is, a sacrifice of both the silly and the serious. 

He sheds himself of his jacket, revealing the beige wool sweater swallowing his torso. You’d picked it out for him a few months ago in preparation for the colder months ahead. You remember him muttering something about not liking sweaters because they're itchy, so you made sure to find one as soft as his pale skin. 

As he joins you on the couch, the wool feels soft and warm against your exposed arms. Settling onto his lap, he briefly mumbles something about changing out of his damp pants, but you dismiss the request with a muffled hum into his torso. 

His fingers idly dance along your spine, “If you take any more naps on this thing, you’re gonna mess up your back.” 

His words make you whine and further nuzzle into his chest. 

“S’not that bad,” you insist, referring to the frumpy olive couch beneath you. 

Megumi’s always hated it for some reason, claiming it’s not comfortable and too stiff, especially when your bed is right there. But truthfully, you don't mind it. Maybe because you get to associate it with moments like this—groggily waiting for your lover to come home and the relief of finally being coddled by his warmth. 

“And if I do,” you tilt your head to place a soft kiss to his jaw, “you’ll just have to take care of me.”

Megumi hums in faux annoyance but closes his eyes at the feeling of your lips. “Yeah yeah, lucky me.”

The rain outside refuses to slow and sounds like little fingertips against the glass of the windows. You vaguely remember falling asleep to the consistent sound of it, but it sounds a whole lot more comforting now that you know Megumi isn't outside in it. 

“How was your day?”

Megumi sighs into the couch at your question, “It was okay, thanks for asking.” He lets his fingers delicately weave themselves through your hair and over your scalp, “Busy.”

You hum back to him, vibrating his whole chest and letting him know you're listening. He returns the gesture, “How was yours?”

“Okay,” you sigh, “kinda dreary. I missed you.” Your voice is smooth and feels like honey in his bones. 

A kiss is placed on the crown of your head, “Missed you too, babe.”

“I thought about you a lot.”

“Fuck—” Megumi’s body instinctually tenses at your sweetly intimate words, before he’s shifting you around on his lap and readjusting his twitchy legs. “Don’t say that.”

Removing your face from his chest, you tilt your head up to look at him. He’s flushed pink, eyes nearly glimmering with love at the innocent confession from your lips. 

You trace a soft finger against his inner thigh, “Why? You gonna get hard?”

Your knuckles just barely brush against the shaft of his covered cock as you feel it already slightly stiff beneath you. Megumi throws his head back in a sarcastic groan before gently swatting your hand away. 

“You know I will,” he admits, far too tired to be shy at this point.

You pull your hand away from his half-awake length, but allow it to linger flat on his thigh. 

Your head returns to his chest with a genuine laugh, “You have so many non-sexual turn-ons.”

“What can I say,” Megumi dryly snorts, “you turn me on emotionally.”

You smile into his arm, leaving a tiny bite that has him slightly jumping. 

“That’s a funny way of saying you love me,” you tease. 

Megumi’s pointer finger delicately hooks below your chin, tilting it closer to him so he can get a good look at you.

His nose brushes against your cheek before it finds your own, nuzzling against it once, twice, three times as he hovers over your lips.

His mouth is just above yours as he softly oozes with adoration, “I do love you.”

Though not yet kissing, he whispers the confession through your lips, wanting you to taste it. Breathe it in, swallow it down and digest it in your lungs. He wants you to feel it in every crevice of your body, from the prints of your fingers all the way down to the tips of your toes. He needs you to know, needs you to overwhelmingly drown in his love for you, even in subtle moments like this.

“I know,” you easily return through his lips, “I love you too.”

[sorcerous-caress]

Yandere Wyll headcanons

[Soft yandere, Toxic protective Wyll, jealousy, possessiveness, nb!reader]

[Part of the Wyll's Week event]

Bedtime stories of love at first sight that his father used to tell him after tucking him in was something he thought he outgrow.

Yet on that day as he hopped down the grove's gate and faced the goblins, meeting your eyes amidst the battlefield felt like an arrow struck his heart.

A feeling he can't explain.

Wyll was hyperaware of your presence during the whole fight, of your safety. Casting a spell on the nearby goblin that might have taken you by suprise, completely ignoring the fact he was surrounded by a dozen of them himself.

In the aftermath, it almost hurt him to retreat back inside the grove, to leave you all alone out there.

He wanted to go and check on you, to ask your name at least.

But the tieflings urged him back, declaring him their hero as he smiled politely at the kids running up to him.

Please come back, he thought, please follow him.

It must be fate, and when you walked inside the grove and spoke to him, he was sure of it.

Your name sounded pleasent on his lips, and when you called him the blade of frontier he thought he might trip and make a fool of himself.

One thing led to another and he found himself back at your camp.

Much to his dismay, there were other tents placed Besides your own.

Even his reaction surprised him, why did his lungs burn at the idea of someone else staying near you as you slept? Why does his heart ache at the idea that he wasn't the first person you called back to camp.

The eventual meeting with the devil he was hunting ensures, and you're there by his side during it.

But you're looking at the devil with concerned eyes instead of disgust, you're lowering your weapon and asking if she's okay.

You ask for her name just like you asked for his.

Something ugly twists inside his stomach.

He takes over the conversation, steers it back to the purpose it once held before.

But you stop him, talk him out of it, and like any fool smitten in love, he can't refuse you.

Part of him is aware that he did the right thing, that your words rung true at the end, Karlach is no devil.

And as he pays the price for his change of heart that night, you still face him the next morning.

Still as handsome, you tell him.

You don't look at him with disgust, you don't prod at his horns and you don't avoid eye contact with his abyssal eye.

It really must be fate, for someone as kind hearted as you to cross paths with him.

He stays by your side that night, nods off to sleep with his head resting against your shoulder.

From that day on, he stays by your side and on your team.

Every attempt at getting him to go back to camp is met with refusal, you can only bring two other companions, the third will always be Wyll.

The world is too dangerous, the people are too greedy. He can't let someone take advantage of you, he can't let you out of his sight.

He shows off his power more in front of you, plays the heroic role with more flourish, targets the enemies that target you.

The other companions make a comment or two about how he seems to be inseparable from you, Wyll takes it in stride and plays it cool, yet never denies it.

Somehow each attempt they make at getting closer to you gets interrupted by some way or the other.

That time Gale attempts to share the weave with you, Scratch suddenly runs to you, your favourite boot in his mouth with chew marks and you completely lose focus and go after him.

That night Astarion invites you to the forest, it suddenly starts raining and it's too damp and muddy to do anything on the ground.

When Shadowheart called you to split a bottle, a cat jumps out of the bush and nearly makes her stumble off of the small cliff into the lake, both of you immediately make it back to camp.

As Wyll dismisses the familiar he summoned, he can't help but feel guilty and ashamed by his actions.

Just because he's not in a hurry to share his bed with you, doesn't mean that the other companions deserve it because they're easy.

Not to mention, you did promise him to dance with him eventually, did you not?