#flutter 2.2

[digitald0rk]

I WANT SOMEONE BADLY

pairing — mark grayson x gn! hero reader. [ implied childhood friends ]

synopsis — after a hard [ immature laughing ] night of fighting crime, you take mark back to yours to spend some extra time with him, one of your closest friends. he is a yearner, through and through. [ end his misery pls 🙏🏻 ]

warnings — mentions of healing from nail biting / picking, mark and you paint each other's nails, he helps with your skincare, crazy pining, like two suggestive paras nothing too freaky though!

w.c — 2.2 k.

a/n — YES IT'S A JEFF BUCKLEY REFERENCE THE TITLE I MEAN :D I WANNA WRITE SMMM BUT i have two exams back to back and then my boards after them in like two weeks 💔💔 im cooked. ALSO HAPPY EID MUBARAK TO ALL THOSE WHO CELEBRATE ^_^ we getting rich this year gang 🤑🤑🤑 ALSO TYSM FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! luv you all mwah <3

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog @hihowyoudoin00 @fairii-majii @hepdeerness [ lemme know if you wanna be added! ]

“m- invincible,” your little slip up makes him chuckle, “pretty sure no one's gonna hear you on top of the highest rooftop in the city, but okay.” he teases you so he doesn't end up staring at you like you're the only person in the world.

“you can never be too sure,” you huff, playfully shoving him a bit followed by a fond eye roll when he pretends like you've punched his guts out or something, dramatically groaning and all. 

“i was just wondering if you wanna come over? i barely have time to spend with you when i’m not being a superhero,” you start, slightly hesitant.

“ooh sleepover?”

“i mean if you want, sure.” you smile, happy to be spending time with him outside of beating people up.

stop smiling at him, please. he's already a lovesick fool, don't do this to him.

“yeah, i’m down!” he says, mentally scolding himself for sounding a little too excited, getting up he stretches a little, “let's go.”

you two fly together to your house, laughing at some stupid thing you saw, a meme or some other ridiculous thing — he wants to record your laugh and play it again and again, although his mind at night does just that so maybe there's no use of it.

he's laughing with you but his heart is beating like a drum, thank god your powers don't include super hearing or he's sure the super loud thump thump of his heart — which belongs to you and only you be concerning, 

he catches a whiff of your perfume, the one you always wear — wait your hair smells different, is that a new conditioner? or shampoo? it smells nice, awfully nice. he takes a deep breath. get it together mark.

he has to maintain a little distance before he ends up doing something stupid like burying his face in your hair and kissing your head.

soon enough he finds you two on the balcony of your house, you slide open the window to your room, leaving it open for him to follow you in.

his palms feel sweaty, he's been here countless times. you two have even slept on the same bed twice. yes, you both were like ten but still!

he takes another deep breath, he steps into your room, you're nowhere to be seen. he hesitantly sits on your bed and of course it smells like you. this isn't good, his heart is going to give out.

he's toying around with your little black cat plushie when he hears the bathroom door unlock, eyes darting to your figure coming out, you've changed into your favorite comfortable pajamas.

he's going to die.

the soft material stretches over the curves and dips of your body in a way that has him gripping the plushie a little too hard.

“you're gonna suffocate him,” you joke, your voice snaps him out of it and he relaxes his grip on the soft back plushie.

flopping down onto the bed with a tired groan you prop yourself up on your elbow to face him.

the atmosphere is unusually tense, or well at least to mark. the soft flutter of your eyelashes and the way your shirt sightly rides up, revealing a slither of your soft skin has him acting like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

“heard you actually got a good grade for once in chemistry.”

he huffs, nodding with a smile, “believe me, i’m just as surprised as you are.”

the tension breaks and you two fall into easy conversation, like always. he can't keep the smile off of his face when you pull out some seance dog issue to read together and it ends up in him explaining some villain’s origin story to you.

“yeah, so honestly it's not his fault-”

“i think his biggest crime is his new outfit” he laughs at your comment.

your body would occasionally brush against his. sometimes your knees bumping or elbow nudging him when you tease him about something, he wishes he could hold you and shower you with all the affection, give you everything he has.

“i’ve been trying to grow out my nails,” you put your palm flat against the sheets, showing him your progress so far, he knows you've been trying to break the habit of picking and biting your nails. he takes your hand in his without thinking, his thumb tracing over your long nails, “looks good,” a proud smile stretching across his lips.

“thanks, I've been meaning to paint them-”

“can i paint them?” mark blurts out, he honestly just wants to hold your hand for as long as you'll let him.

you jokingly make a show of pretending to think before nodding, “sure.”

you get out of bed, opening your closet to take out a small box of all the nail polishes and other supplies you own, he excitedly looks through the box, pulling out a pretty blue shade, giddy at the thought of his suit’s main color matching with your nails.

he helps you settle your hand on a small towel so your bed sheet doesn't get stained, he uncaps the small bottle, getting to work, he'd grumble a little when he messes up, his teeth slightly dig into his bottom lip as he focuses on painting your nails and every time his hand would make contact with yours — even the slightest bit of contact leaves him longing for more.

he listens to you speak about something that happened at school last wednesday, his heart rate would pick up everytime you'd say his name in that pretty voice of yours.

he looks so proud himself when he finishes painting all the nails on your right hand, gently blowing on them so they'd dry faster, you playfully join him, blowing on your now blue nails, your breaths mingle and oh boy he's holding himself back from kissing your knuckles and telling you how beautiful you are.

you examine his painting skills, watching him put nail polish on your left hand’s nails.

he works in comfortable silence, using the crumpled up ball of tissue to wipe off any excess blue liquid that is around your nails.

“you're actually good at this, makes me wonder if you've ever painted someone else's nails before,” you mutter, his eyes dart up to hold your gaze for a moment, he'd hold it for longer but he knows it'll unravel him, it'd just end up with him pouring out his feelings — baring his heart to you.

“nope, it's actually my first time,” he admits, putting the cap back on and once again blowing at your nails, he sneaks in a small brush of his thumb against your knuckles as he helps your hand up — which is just an excuse to touch you, he folds the small towel and puts it back in your small box of nail supplies.

“do you like them?” he asks.

“yeah, looks really pretty. thanks mark,” you flash him a happy smile and he's over the moon.

“yeah, real pretty,” he whispers, except he's not only talking about your nails, he's talking about you — all of you.

the moonlight along with the dim fairy lights of your room make you look like a literal angel, he swears he can see the wings and halo.

“let me return the favor?” you ask, if only you knew he'd give you the world if you let him, he doesn't even have to think before he's nodding, a dumb lovesick smile makes it's way onto his face as he lets you maneuver his hand around and paint his nails a pretty blue — the same shade he picked for your nails.

meaning you two are matching, he finds that adorable. he also finds you adorable and wants to just bite your cheek, just a little nibble. he shakes his head slightly as if he's shaking the thought away which works, not really.

“look we're matching!” you put your hand besides his, your long nails matching his in the same blue shade. “yeah we are,” he softly mutters, wanting to lace your fingers through his but ultimately holds himself back.

he feels sad when you pull your hands away once you're done painting his nails — he would hold your hand for eternity if you let him.

he feels the tension again, his eyes lingering a second too long on your figure as you put the supplies back in your closet, with your back turned to him he can only think about one thing, you — your waist and how he'd love to grab it while he presses needy kisses all over your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks, he wonders how you'd whisper his name when his touch gets a little rough and demanding, squeezing and groping all he can reach-

woah there, can't afford a boner here mark, calm down.

he wants to kiss every inch of your body and worship you, he wants — no, he needs to.

he shifts a bit under the sheets when a familiar feeling starts to settle in his gut, waiting for you to come back to bed. although he's almost sure it'll only increase the intensity of the heat he's feeling.

you crawl back into bed, shifting around to find a comfortable position. thankfully, your stupid jokes ease his nerves a bit. he finds himself leaning closer to you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so here you two are almost pressed against each other, lying side by side as you two watch tiktoks on your phone, wrapped in your balnket.

“why is your whole fyp brainrot?” he'd complain and then end up laughing, although he insisted it wasn't funny.

a few more giggles and shared laughter later, he realizes just how close you two are to each other, he'd barely have to move to kiss those pretty lips of yours, would you taste like that slushie you two shared earlier? he wants to find out, he really wants to.

a small yawn escapes your lips and he swears he falls in love over again.

“tired?” he asks softly, as if speaking a little too loud would ruin the tranquility of it all. 

“mhm.”

“i'm not letting you watch tiktoks till 3am, come on, let's get you to sleep hm?”

he takes your phone away, his fingers brushing against yours, the contact making his heart skip a beat.

“i still have to do,” another yawn, “my skincare,” you mutter, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

he sheepishly offers to do it for you, he quickly gets out of bed the second you tell him what you need and where your skincare products are because if he stays this close to your sleepy form a second longer he'll end up kissing your forehead and saying those eight letters he's been meaning to say for years.

he brushes your hair out of your face, helping you with your skincare. he rubs the sweet smelling moisturizer into your skin gently, first your hands, he smiles when he sees his nails matching yours, he's never going to shut up about this moment.

then he helps you apply it to your face, taking his sweet time savoring the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, his rough calloused hands working skillfully.

“mark?”

“hm?”

“thank you, seriously you're the best.” 

he's going to scream, he's glad your eyes are closed shut or otherwise he's sure you'd be able to spot the flush that adorns his cheeks.

then comes the serum, and finally the cherry flavored lip balm. you pucker your lips and glide the tube across your lips, coating them in a shiny slightly sticky layer.

great, you just made them more kissable. he's going to crash out.

you innocently offer him some, he can't say no to you, even you should know this by now.

his heart picks up again when you apply your lip balm to his slightly dry lips, going back and forth a couple times for good measure, his lips now shiny.

and then the realization hits him — he just indirectly kissed you. his heart might as well just beat out of his chest with the way it's pounding so hard against his ribs, like a drum.

his self control is hanging on by a thread, you tuck yourself and him in bed, sleepily mumbling, “goodnight mark,” you sound so sweet, his name on your tongue — sweeter than honey, it’s enough to drive him crazy.

and as your eyes close to get some much needed rest, he mumbles back, “goodnight.”

once he's sure you're fully asleep, he adds, “goodnight my angel,” stroking your head gently, reverently.

he presses a small kiss to your forehead, maybe, just maybe one day, he'll tell you how his heart aches for you, how it longs to hold you and be held in your loving arms — his love for you is consuming, his heart overflowing with it, he's sure if you cut open his chest, your name would be seen engraved on his heart and he wouldn't have it any other way, he will always love you.

even if you don't.

but he prays everyday that you do.

© digitald0rk 2025. do not repost / steal any of my work or you'll get explosive diarrhea and rexsplode! want more? click here ★

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Damian x reader but reader is a very awkward but kind person. they are awkward around people, hell this is their first relationship, and generally doesn’t receive good attention from others because of it. but he loves them despite it. i hope this makes sense

Graceless

Damian Wayne x Reader

wc: 2.2 K summary: Being in a Gala his father threw with your dear boyfriend. Also, sneaking out from it. warnings: literally so much fluff I threw up, no y/n used a/n: ThANKYOUSOMUCH FOR THE REQUEST OMG, literally such a cute idea, I hope I could write it as cute as you described it. Enjoy! (Divider)

»You're stiff. No need to be nervous, beloved.« Damian tells you quietly, hand on your back as he stays by your sidesince the beginning of this event. He had been trying to console you and let loose the entire time, having been nothing but patient with you. Sighing out, you look at him and attempt to relax your shoulders. You are not used to such Galas, being especially awkward now with so many people around. There is no reason why you said yes to this. Really, you've been dreading going here with him, but you also didn't want to mess up or make him upset by declining his request.

He looks to you as well, expression soft and understanding. You have no idea how you scored such a jackpot. But truth is, he thinks the same about you. Damian would be lying if he said he didn't find your slight awkwardness and shyness adorble. In fact, he cherishes it.

»We can go, get some fresh air, if you'd like.« You perk up at his suggestion, trying not to make it obvious that you would do anything to disappear for a moment.

»Sure.«

The crisp evening air winds past you, making your hair fly into various directions and you move your hands to unruffle your hair. This action only makes Damian's heart flutter even more, watching your every move while he stands beside you on the spacious balcony.

»What are you looking at?« He blinks out of his stare and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly.

»Just enjoying the view.« Now it's your turn to look away, being mostly flustered by his attempt to flirt with you. »Thanks.« You manage to mumble out, earning a soft chuckle from him. It makes you a little confused for a moment before you realise that it may have sounded slightly out of place. How else are you supposed to react to flirting? What was there even to say in general?

»Oh, you are so cute...« In the next moment, you are pulled into his arms, a hug if you will. There are rare moments for Damian to let loose and be affection, but with you it comes naturally. He can't help but always want to squeeze you tightly in his arms every time you are being more adorble than he thought you can be. You return the hug and melt into it shortly after, loving how dreamy the mix of his cologne smells like, wanting to drown in it.

Soon, the chatter from the Gala becomes louder for a moment, followed up with a click of a door before it becomes more quiet again. »Gremlin, B wants to see you. He doesn't want you sneaking out again.« You recognise the voice to be one of his brother's, glancing behind your shoulder to see Tim. You are getting better at their names.

Damian groans and reluctantly lets go from around you, leaving you alone on the balcony for now as he goes to his father to discuss something. Not that he cares, really.

As your alone, you settle on leaning your hands against the cold railing and looking out to the cityscape. It always amazes you at how big and shiny Gotham looks like from the Wayne Manor, the river that goes around the city makes it look even more stunning. The cool wind goes past you once again, this time not as aggressive as before. It helps you cool down from the social gathering, finally having some alone time, even when you would prefer it with Damian.

You focus on the calm stream of the river, not noticing more people pile onto the balcony. Soon enough, you feel someone tap your shoulder which makes you turn around. Dick? It is Dick, right? Damian didn't trick you?

»There you are! Enjoying the evening? I hope we didn't scare you off or anything.« He chuckles lightly, hoping to get to know his youngest brother's girlfriend more without him interrupting every other sentence. You only saw his brother's one time when they invited you to a dinner, and Damian didn't let anyone talk to you for more than fifteen seconds. Not that he was jealous, he was just really annoyed with how teasing and stupid they are, which only makes you more shy around them.

»No, not at all. It's nice.« You respond back in an attempt to come off as relaxed and totally not awkward around him, hating the fact that it's most likely not working. But Dick is polite enough not to mention it.

»I see. You know, Damian can get really grumpy at times.« He starts and leans against the railing beside you, a rather amused smile on his face.

»How do you keep up with that?«

You never expected this question and you have no idea how to respond to this at all. Or is he messing with you? He definitely is with how light he is talking about it.

»Um... well, he is not as grumpy all the time.« You smile back in response as best as possible, making the man beside you laugh a little. It's a mystery for the whole family on how he got a sweet girlfriend like you. You don't seem to talk too much around them, getting out of your shell only sometimes when they directly talk to you. And even then, you still seem more reserved.

»Hm, I have that different in mind. Maybe he is- « He can't finish his sentence as he gets punched behind his back, making him gasp for air and turn around confused.

»Who- «

»Father wasn't even looking for me, what are you doing here?« Damian steps away from Dick and goes to your side, placing his hand around your back like before.

His brother quickly recovers and purses his lips, trying to come up with a quick excuse.

»I was just talking to her! I wasn't even trying to interrogate her or something...« Damian rolls his eyes, wordlessly dragging you back inside the Gala to escape the antics of his brother.

As you're walking away, you glance behind your shoulder and give the other an apologetic smile, hoping you didn't upset his brother. He luckily doesn't seem as upset and just gives you a thumbs up in response, flashing you a shiny smile in return.

»I apologise, they can tend to be a pain in the ass. He didn't try to ask you something stupid, right?« He tilts his head at you lightly, still walking through the Gala and out the hallway to escape this place all together.

»No! No, just...« You answer back, trying to explain to him briefly what your small conversation was about, »uh... he talked about the weather. And stuff.«

He doesn't buy it at all and just gives you an unimpressed look, waiting for you to spill the truth. »Okay, he did ask me about your grumpiness. And how I keep up with you.« You sigh out, biting your inner cheek as you watch his reaction. He is rather amused and shakes his head, tugging you along outside with him.

»Don't mind him... he is stupid.« He mumbles back, reassuring you while wrapping his arm around your waist fully. You both exit the building and make your way to your usual hang out spot near the river, liking the way the moon reflects against the water. The sky is clear, giving you an even more pleasing view. You both walk to a nearby bench and sit down, getting a brief chill down your spine at the cool wood. Damian, ever the oberserver, shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over you shoulder before pulling you close again and relaxing with you.

The close proximity and comfort makes your cheeks flare up, being glad it's dark enough so he doesn't see it. Either way, your subtle reaction of sighing out made it clear you enjoy this.

The comfortable silence is something you both adore, being able to be relaxed and calm with just the other's presence. You don't need to say something to the other or do anything, happily being leaned against his side like that. You don't need to worry about being weird for fidgeting with your hands in your lap. There is nothing you need to worry about or be afraid with him, being the only person you trust with yourself. At first, it didn't seem like he liked you at all before you started dating. But it turns out that he was just trying to mask his feelings in front of you. He noticed you in his class every day and just couldn't help but feel drawn to you. It was scary, but soon learned how to approach you and quickly realised you were probably more cute than he thought you are. All that pining came to an end once you both started to date, but it surely didn't stop entirely.

You sometimes forget that you can be affectionate with him because in your mind, it's still hard to believe that you two are an actual couple. Like now, you finally realise it again and want to do something together with him. Not just sit around and stare at the lake.

»Can we walk around?« He looks at you, not really having expected this suggestion. But who is he to say no to you? He'd be a fool to deny you anything.

»You mean take a walk? Of course we can.«

With his jacket around your shoulders, you both walks side-by-side by the lake and don't talk much again. Neither fo you mind, once more. Damian takes a few steps away from you, making you stop and stand while watching him approach something a bit further away. You uncertain of what to do but decide on standing on your spot and wait for him to come back. He rips something out from the ground apparently, being lightly amused from the sight. Eventually, he returns to you with a small smile, basically skipping up to you again.

He hands you a smaller boquet of white, wild flowers, making you smile even more at how sweet his gesture is. There is no reason for him to pick up some flowers for you, but he still did.

You take the boquet from him happily, unsure of what to say but really grateful for the few flowers he gave you just now.

»You like them?« Without thinking too much, you nod quickly and hug him tightly.

»Yes... thanks. It's sweet.« Was that enough to express your gratitude? You really hope so, but you also feel a rush of affection wash over you as you both hug.

»Not as sweet as you.« He murmurs back and nuzzles his nose against your hair, making you feel even more flustered than before.

»Why do you always say something like this?« Damian smiles against your hair and squeezes your wasit softly in his arms, speaking into the top of your head.

»You don't like it? I can stop.« Of course, that makes you react even more. You quickly shake your head and lean off him to look into his eyes. The subtle shine of the moon makes your blush more apparent for him.

»No! I-I mean, just... you're making this more difficult.« You manage to mumble out before averting your gaze towards the water, huffing out defeated. His expression softens and he gently puts his hand over your cheek, carefully making you look back to him.

»Or maybe you are just need to learn how to deal with flirting.« He teases lightly, stroking his thumb over your cheekbone in a gentle manner.

This just made you blush more, pouting at him. He can't help but find this even more adorble, feeliing a little bad for teasing you. »Sorry... didn't mean to sound rude.«

You don't want him to feel bad on the other hand and shake your head, leading you to lean you head more into his hand. »No, I... probably need to learn how to deal with it. You're right.«

You both smile at this and silence falls above you, just studying each other's eyes in the moonlight, getting lost in the proximity of the warm hug.

Finally, his thumb brushes over you lower lip, hand still cupping your soft cheek. His eyes rake over your face, getting stuck on your lips and you feel your heart speed up at the realisation. Leaning in slowly, your free hand supports you on his chest, other arm still around his neck with the small boquet of flowers in it.

After hesitating just for a moment, you press your lips against his own and he could swear he feels a firework errupt in his chest and entire body. He kisses you back without a second thought, pulling you flush against him with his hand by your waist. You're unsure who breaks the kiss first, but you are left a flushed mess in his arms. And he finds it cute all over again. Your slight awkwardness never made him feel annoyed or anthing like that. He's not like most people, he is more patient and sweet with you. Damian doesn't hate that you need a little more time for affection, he doesn't feel worried over you uncertain moves. He is more than happy to guide you through it and show you how to love yourself and express your feelings more freely.

»You are... gripping me a bit too hard.« you break the silence first, a rather sheepish expression on your face as you wait for him to stop gripping your waist so much. He snaps out of his stare and replaces his hand onto your back.

»Sorry... got carried away.« He scoffs lightly, being the one being sheepish now.

a/n: I never felt myself cringe so hard before while writing, but I also tried to make it as believeable and cutesy as possible. Hope you enjoyed it though!

←MASTERLIST

[itsnesss]

𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 | charles leclerc × fem!reader

summary | after a secret night of passion, charles promises everything—but gossip spreads, silence follows, and you're left wondering if it ever truly meant something

warnings | smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected, power dynamics, emotional tension, risk

word count | 2.2 k

🖇 more cl16 🖇 f1 masterlist

The roar of the engines still echoes in your ears as you cross the paddock for the first time. It’s overwhelming. The heat from the asphalt, the smell of burnt rubber, the constant motion of important people who move as if they’ve been synchronized for years… and there you are. The new one.

Physiotherapist for the Ferrari team.

You repeat it like a mantra as you clutch your folder of recovery plans for the drivers tightly to your chest. You can’t afford to hesitate for a second. It took everything to get here, and you know one mistake, one misplaced word, or one misinterpreted glance could cost you everything.

And that includes Charles Leclerc.

Especially him.

"Bonjour," he says with a mischievous smile when you're introduced.

He’s tall, but not imposing. His presence doesn’t scream—it whispers. He greets you with a brief but firm handshake. His eyes flicker from yours to your mouth and then back, like he’s allowing himself the indulgence. You nod with professionalism, even though your stomach flutters.

From that day on, Charles doesn’t stop seeking you out. A passing comment, a visit to the massage room without any real reason, jokes that make you smile even though you try not to. He never crosses the line, but he dances dangerously close to it.

And you… you do too.

The rules are clear: no relationships between drivers and team staff. You could lose your job. He, his image. But when you're alone with him in a closed room, those rules seem far away. Almost unreal.

Like today.

"You have ten minutes before the team meeting," you say as you help him lie on his back on the mat. You’re in the physio center of the garage, right before qualifying.

"With you, I’d take a full hour," he replies, wearing that smile you already know by heart.

You don’t answer. You just roll your eyes and begin the protocol. First his arms, then his neck. Always focused. Always professional.

Until it’s time to stretch his leg muscles.

"You’ll feel some pressure in your quadriceps," you warn, gently bringing his leg toward his chest.

He nods, but his eyes aren’t on his leg. They’re on you. On your lips. On the bead of sweat running down your temple.

Your hands are on his warm skin. His team shorts don’t leave much to the imagination. You try to keep your focus, but the tension between you two is thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Do I make you nervous when you touch me?" he whispers.

You freeze. You look at him, serious. "Don’t say things like that."

"Why not? Don’t you feel something when we’re this close?"

Your breathing quickens. He notices. Of course, he notices. Your fingers press harder than necessary, like you're trying to punish him for making you feel this way.

But he doesn’t complain. Quite the opposite.

"You shouldn’t," you say softly.

"But I want to."

Your gaze locks with his, and this time, you don’t pull away. You say nothing.

There are just his eyes on yours, your hands on his leg, your body dangerously leaning over him.

"If you kiss me, I won’t stop you," he says, so quietly you barely hear it.

Your heart pounds. Do you want this? Do you really want to risk everything?

He lifts his torso effortlessly, now only inches from you, lying there on that mat that suddenly feels more like a bed in disguise.

"You’ve got five more minutes," he reminds you, his voice rough.

"Enough," you murmur.

Your lips crash into his in a desperate kiss. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s feral. Urgent.

Charles groans into your mouth, his hands on your waist, pulling you on top of him like he needs you to breathe. Your legs fall on either side of his without a second thought, and he feels so firm, so real, so yours in that moment that the world fades away.

Your hands move over his chest, his neck, his damp hair. He bites your bottom lip and laughs against your mouth.

"You’re playing with fire," you say between kisses.

"That’s exactly what I want."

He flips you over with such ease it knocks the air from your lungs. You’re beneath him now, on that mat that holds no innocence anymore. His body presses into yours, his arousal undeniable between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back as his tongue traces a burning path down your neck. You bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly. The walls are thin. Anyone could walk in.

"Charles…" you whisper, your voice barely there.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he says, but you don’t.

Because you don’t want him to stop.

Your hands travel down his back to the edge of his clothes. He understands. With swift, practiced movements, he removes the last barriers between you.

There’s no time for games. Not now.

But there’s no need for them anyway.

You feel him enter you, fill you, stretch you, and your body arches into a perfect curve that begs for more. Each thrust is like a crash, like a whip of pleasure shooting through you. Your nails dig deeper into his back with every movement, and your lips seek his with desperation.

"I have to be quick," he whispers urgently. "I have to be perfect."

And he is. Every move he makes is a masterpiece of control and passion. His hands grip your hips with a force that makes you moan louder, and you realize the pleasure isn't just about the speed or the need… it's about the moment.

"You're so deep inside me…" you moan, but there's no time to say more. His lips seal yours in a hungry, devouring kiss while his body both demands and gives at the same time.

"You're mine," he whispers in your ear, and you believe it, because in that instant, you are.

"God… Charles…" you pant, and he turns you over again, but this time he places you face down on the mat, your back to him. One hand holds your neck gently but with authority, while the other guides your hips backward with each thrust.

"This… this is how I want you," he pants against your ear.

And you do. You surrender to his rhythm, his strength, his passion. Your moans mix with his, forming a symphony that echoes in the small room, and you don’t care who might hear. You just want more.

"Don’t stop… please," you beg, and he responds with more intensity, as if your voice fuels him to go beyond.

"Yes… yes… like that…" you moan against the sweaty mat, and he makes you arch more, take him deeper, fuller.

"You’re perfect," he whispers, and those words push you to the edge of pleasure.

"I’m gonna… I’m gonna…" you try to say, but the words are lost in a choked scream that he captures with a wild kiss.

"Wait for me," he pleads, and you try, but your body is a volcano ready to erupt.

"I can’t… I can’t…" you beg, and he gives you everything—every part of him, every heartbeat, every whisper.

And when the end comes, it’s like a blaze that consumes you completely. You let go, give in, surrender, and he keeps going, relentless, perfect, until pleasure shakes you to your core and makes him cry out too, with your name on his lips, his body collapsing over yours.

"God…" is the last thing you hear before he’s there, holding you, kissing your forehead gently.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concerned.

"More than okay," you smile, and he smiles too, a smile more sincere than all the ones before.

"Just in time," Charles says, looking at his phone. "I have to go."

"I know," you reply, but you stay in his arms a few seconds longer.

"What was this?" you finally ask, honestly.

"Something that should’ve happened before," he says, looking into your eyes. "Something I want to happen again."

And for the first time since you arrived, you allow yourself to believe that maybe the rules can bend, that maybe the risk is worth it. Because when you look at him, you don’t see the Ferrari driver, you don’t see the superstar… you see Charles.

And he sees you.

The air vibrates between you as you dress in silence, glances exchanged, sighs held in. You know the clock is still ticking, that each second brings you closer to reality and further from the moment. But you’re not ready to leave yet.

"We have to talk about this," you say finally, breaking the spell.

Charles nods seriously, his eyes already more focused, more aware of what’s happened. "As soon as I’m back from the track."

"Yeah," you agree, though part of you already fears that conversation.

"Trust me," he says before leaving, and you almost believe you can.

The rest of the day is a blur of activity and adrenaline. Every time you see Charles walk by, in his racing suit and helmet in hand, your stomach flips. You don’t know if it’s fear or anticipation, but you do know nothing will ever be the same again.

When the race ends and the paddock starts to empty, you receive a message on your phone. It’s from him.

"Where are you?" Just that. No emojis, no jokes. Just a question heavier than all the words he hasn’t said.

"In the massage room," you reply, knowing it’s already empty. It’s the most private place you can offer him without raising suspicion.

"Coming now."

The minutes before he arrives feel like hours. You wonder what he’ll say, if he’ll apologize, if he’ll pretend it was a mistake. But when the door opens and he walks in, his hair messy and eyes bright, you know he didn’t come to apologize.

He closes the door behind him with a click that sounds like a gunshot. He doesn’t say anything, just walks toward you with confident, determined steps. Before you can speak, he grabs your waist and kisses you like he hasn’t kissed anyone since he left you on that mat.

"Charles…" you try to say between kisses, but he doesn’t let you speak.

"Let’s not talk," he whispers against your lips. "Just know I want to be with you. No one else matters."

"The rules…"

"To hell with the rules," he says with a passion that makes you tremble. "I want this. I want you."

"But the risk…"

"I’ll take it," he interrupts, looking so serious it silences you. "For the first time in my life, I’m willing to risk everything for something that isn’t four wheels and an engine."

"What if we get caught?"

"Then we get caught," he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world. "But I’m not letting this go. Not when I know what I feel."

His words hit you with the force of a high-speed crash. You’ve never heard anyone speak like that, like love was more important than success, more valuable than gold.

"And you?" he asks, eyes locked on yours. "What do you feel?"

"I’m scared," you admit, because it’s the truth. "But I want this too. I want… I want you."

"Then there’s no problem," he smiles. "We’re on the same team."

And in that moment, you believe it. You believe you can overcome anything, be stronger than any rule. Because when he’s in your arms, the whole world feels possible.

But reality is cruel, and the paddock has eyes and ears in every corner. Monday morning, while you’re reviewing the drivers’ performance data, you feel a presence behind you. Before you can turn around, you hear a voice that isn’t Charles’s.

"I see why you’ve been so cheerful lately," says the technical director, his tone laced with irony. "But remember, we all have our roles here. And yours isn’t to distract our drivers."

The ground seems to disappear beneath your feet. You don’t know what to say, how to defend yourself. The words die on your lips as you watch the boss nod slowly before walking away.

"Are they together?" asks an engineer walking down the hall, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Rumors?" another one responds, like he’s talking about a crash on the track. "There are always rumors around here."

But it’s not just rumors. They’re seeds of doubt planted in the heart of the team. And you know in this world of high speed, doubt can turn into disaster faster than a blown tire.

Charles doesn’t come looking for you all day. No messages, no stolen glances in the strategy room. It’s like he’s disappeared, like yesterday’s race never happened. And that hurts more than any words.

"Something wrong?" one of your coworkers asks as you pack up to head home.

"Everything’s fine," you try to smile, but you know she won’t believe it.

"It’s him, isn’t it?" she insists, her voice low but pressing. "I heard rumors. Don’t get involved. He’s not worth it."

That night, you fall asleep with your phone in your hand, waiting for a message that never comes. The silence says more than any conversation ever could. And when you finally drift off, it’s with the feeling that you’ve lost something you didn’t even know you had.

[dadsbongos]

jennifer's body - z.maki

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection

...

warnings - vaginal fingering *nerd emoji*, thigh riding, maki's the top as per usual, car sex, you're a whiny bitch but maki's into it, potential cum eating

word count - 2.2 K / rating - R

Maki detests a lot of things, but above every single one of those things - she detests being put on missions with you most of all.

“Eek!” Maki’s balance is hardly thrown off despite the way you rip her arm to your chest. You hug her close and push your cheek to her shoulder, “Please protect me, Maki!”

She snorts, looking down at you curled around her form, “You’re a grade two, you know? You don’t have to hide behind me.”

Feeling the impression of your lips molding into a pout against her, you ‘hmph’, continuing down the creaky, dank hall, “A grade two can still be scared!”

Naturally, yes. However, the degree of fear you commonly express makes teaming with you such a hassle. Though not necessarily because she finds it annoying.

Maki feels your skittish fingers dance down to hers, and she clasps your hand tightly. Her heart throbs uncomfortably at the idea of your poor brain all stressed and overheating, skin chilled, and throat too tight to speak. A terrible thing that is. Yes, she hates it more than anything else in the world.

So Maki walks just a pace quicker than you, ensuring she’s upfront. But no matter that, she is not the one to suffer this mission’s great blowback.

As if freshly blistering up from between the floorboards, a puffy, mushroom-shaped spore oozes from beneath your boot. Mustard yellow curd gushes onto the ground from each pore with a soft puff of orange gas into the air.

“Damn!” Maki curls an arm around your waist and tucks you behind her.

The particles cling to your nose, itching and irritating; they claw down your throat and paint over the front of your uniform.

By the time Maki has splattered the curse, you’re feverish. Still coughing up dust and reaching out for her.

“Are you okay?” she cradles your sweltering frame in her broad hands.

“Car,” you wheeze out, falling into her stronger frame, “We need to get outta here.”

Your thighs squeeze together, hips mindlessly squirming into the sticky leather of the backseat. Leaning into Maki, you take her arm again, breasts squishing against her firm muscles and pressing her hand between the clench of your thighs. Her palm digs into the meat of your inner thighs and it takes about 60% of your brain power to keep from humping her hand.

Pressing your face to her neck, you know she can feel the softness of your lips on her smooth skin. You know she can feel the hot puffs of your words, “Maki… Maki I think we should pull over…”

“What?” her cheeks go pink, eyes falling to you from beneath her lenses. Her other hand comes up to cup your cheek, it burns beneath her skin, “Talk to me, huh? What’re you feeling?”

“Hmm,” you turn into the feeling of her cupping your cheek, and your gaze finds Maki’s crinkled face. Eyes wide beneath furrowed brows, lips down in a frown, “I feel so hot, Maki, please- “ you jerk up, rutting against her hand, “Please pull over!”

The car doesn’t stop. Maki moves her hand from your cheek to press against your feverish forehead. She barks over at Ijichi, “Hey, pull over!”

You all jerk at the sudden stop before Ijichi shamefully restarts the car to more carefully move off the side of the road. He turns in the driver’s seat to look at the pair of you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You think it’s cuter when Maki does it.

Oh, Maki.

You blink up at her lazily. Lashes fluttering. She reddens more at the movement, you like that.

“Maki,” you whisper, low enough so even Ijichi can’t hear, “I think it was an aphrodisiac.”

She looks away, pointlessly, to the back support cushions behind you. Her chin tucks close to her chest and you can hear the strain in her throat to whisper back just as low, “Can you hold out until we see Ieiri?”

“Mh-hmm,” you shake your head, thighs tightening around Maki’s hand and now using 80% of your brain power to not shamelessly grind on her, “No way…”

You need her. ‘Starved in a dungeon for weeks, and you finally see a fresh loaf of bread’ kind of need.

Maki feels something ugly burrow into her chest at the idea of Ijichi seeing you so weak and bothered. And something uglier arrives when she realizes it isn’t just because you’re an impaired friend - she doesn’t even want Shoko seeing you like this if she can help it. Looking over at Ijichi, Maki jerks her head towards the door.

“Wh-what?” Ijichi stutters out, head lowering.

“Get out!” she snaps.

“Yes, ma’am!” Ijichi jumps out of the car, slamming the door shut in the process.

Maki watches him shuffle towards the trunk and stand with his back facing the vehicle. He twiddles his thumbs and stares down the empty road. She thinks he might be pouting after getting yelled at. She doesn’t spend much time on the thought before you’re sitting up on your knees.

Her hand is (sadly) free from between your legs and you drop her arm to shakily place both your hands on her shoulders. You settle onto one of her thighs, arms curling around her neck. Your nose nudges hers and you press a kiss on Maki’s cheek.

She can feel how warm you are through your thin tights. Unsurely, Maki’s hands find your hips, “What should I…?”

You hum, moving to her other cheek and kissing there, too, “I need you, Maki.”

Her hands squeeze your hips. To stop you or ground herself, she isn’t sure. Both works, probably. Right?

“You’ll regret it later,” now, Maki’s hands try lifting you off of her thigh, “It’s not a good idea.”

“No!” you wail, nails digging into Maki’s shoulders, hips stubbornly remaining in place. You rear back to bat your lashes at her again, chest rising and falling with your gasping breaths, “Won’t regret it, I promise…” your hips lower on her thick thigh, she tenses below you, “I love you, Maki,” you kiss her cheek again, hoping to tempt her, “Love you so much. Need you so bad.

90% of your brain power goes towards not humping her leg like a dog.

She’s frozen solid, your feverish cheek presses to hers and you pray it melts through her icy exterior.

“So jealous of Yuuta,” you murmur, moving to ghost your lips over hers. They’re so much softer than you thought they’d be, and they taste like cherry chapstick. The kind that reminds you of cough syrup, “Talking about him ‘n’ how strong he is… I hate it. ‘m not stronger than you, Maki, but ‘m better than Yuuta,” you feel her grin, her body jolting to life as two hands find the sides of your face, “Just wanna show you that I’m better than Yuuta.”

“You’re jealous,” she ‘tsk’s, “but you’re the one calling Okkotsu by his given name.”

“Don’t be mad…” you fight against her hold on your head and purse your lips against hers, a chaste kiss from you to her, “I love Maki, not Yuuta.”

100% of your brain power is put into your self-control. It overheats your brain and Maki can almost hear the gears churning, smell the smoke pouring from your ears when you finally give up and rut down into her thigh with a shaky gasp. You roll your hips against her thigh once again to test her reaction - she flexes her leg and her hands fly down to your hips to guide your movement.

“Are you sure?”

You sigh against her lips when your clit catches sweetly on her thigh, nodding frantically and rubbing against her thigh faster, “Please, Maki? I’ll go totally crazy if you keep making me beg…”

She snickers against your lips, pausing to kiss you again while dragging your cunt over her flexed thigh, “Sorry.”

A pitchy whine is strangled in the back of your throat, the fire in your gut only burning hotter. Quickly unsatisfied with the dulling sensation between your legs, “Need more, Maki. ‘s not enough.”

Pulling back, Maki pushes up the leg you sit on, hoping to dig out the burning spores under your skin. She tilts her head, “What should I- what do you want?”

But you simply whine in response. Throwing your head back and grinding fruitlessly against her muscled thigh.

“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered, fingers abandoning your sides to dance up under your skirt, “So needy, you know that?”

“Hmph!” you lift your bobbing head to glare at the woman beneath you.

“What?” her nails bite into the snug, thin material of your tights. You gasp when the sharp pop of her fingers bursting the cloth rings out, she snickers at your doe-eyed stare, “They COMME des GARÇONS or something?”

Before you can begin jutting out your bottom lip and squirming off your tights by yourself, Maki worms her fingers through the gape and rips sideways. The warmth of her hand cups against your hot sex, the wet patch on your panties clinging to her skin. The sensation sends tingles down her spine. Down her spine and swirling around to her gut, swelling as you grind down into the heel of her palm.

“Please,” you lean down, pressing your forehead to hers. Heat fanning from your cheeks, and Maki can feel it. You know she can. You know she likes it, “Need you inside me, Maki.”

Her lithe fingers pull your panties to the side before running the pads of her middlemost fingers along your slit. Wetness glides down her skin, her head pitches up and her lips pucker. You meet her in the middle - soft and cherry-flavored - as her fingers slide inside you.

“So wet,” she muses against your lips, “I just slipped in, honey.”

“Need you,” you cant your hips down onto her fingers, “Need you so bad…”

“You really love me?” it could be teasing, but if you pry back the thickened, scarred skin beneath her uniform - you could feel that mushiness in her question. That softness of needing to know how you feel. Needing to know this isn’t a lie that some infection has conjured inside you.

“I love you!” her thumb nudges into your puffy clit, loosely swiping the characters of her name across the bundle. Fingers crooking up in an almost frenzied search for the little spot to put hearts in your eyes. You squeeze your arms tight around her neck, back arching and chest pressing close to Maki’s face, “Love you s’much, Maki! Wanna be your girl…”

She barely catches the admission over your whining moans.

“I’ll make you mine,” she juts her chin at you, “I’ll make all you mine.”

You squeal as she stirs the bubbling, electrified pot inside you, hips rocking down so you’re practically riding her fingers. Arms pulling back, you cup Maki’s soft cheeks and trap her head in place. Once again, your lips find hers.

Her wrist flexes with the force of her thrusting fingers, eagerly chasing the sensation of your velvety cunt sucking her deep inside you. The sloppy, crude sound of your wetness squelching out with every stroke inside your cunt makes her lightheaded. Her thumb quickens against your clit, and your thighs quiver on either side of her own.

“So pretty when you’re falling apart for me,” Maki rests her head against the seat, eyes lazily crawling along your form. She grins, wolfish in nature - like she could scarf you down whole if she pleased, “Really wanna be my girl, baby?”

She could.

“God, yes!” you firmly plant yourself against the heel of Maki’s palm, knocking her thumb off balance and grinding into the meat of her hand. Your juices drip down her hand as she continues to finger you in the backseat, watching the muscles in your thighs tense.

You’d let her.

“Then cum for me, yeah?”

A final press into your g-spot. One last nudge of your clit against her palm. Only one more peck of your lips to hers.

And you’re going limp, save for the unsteady twitching of your hips as the last of your release drools into Maki’s hand. Your head crashes down onto Maki’s shoulder, eyes drooping.

You yawn and Maki slowly pulls out of you, bracing her other hand against your hip to keep you from collapsing entirely. She settles you to slump fully on her lap. Her eyes stray to your cum, webbing between her fingers.

She wants it in her mouth. To slurp up the very essence of you and taste you on her tongue. But she pauses before committing.

That gas - powder? particles? poison? - could be contagious.

Though, if it were, she would’ve gotten it when kissing you, right?

But it could also be the sexual nature - the fact she’s ingesting your cum - that would spread it.

Looking down at you, your closed eyes and parted lips - if you aren’t sleeping, you’re definitely on your way. The heat is subsiding and your breathing has evened out.

There’ll be more opportunities later, she supposes. Mournfully, Maki wipes her sodden hand against her skirt before calling a shaky, flustered Ijichi back to the car.

[happilyhertale]

Captured Moments – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Daemon has to go on a business trip again. You hate it every time he leaves you alone for a long time. But to make his alone time special, you plan to make him a little film.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering; Dirty Talk; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

This is my last story for this year's Smuffmas Challenge. It was great fun creating all these little stories and reading your comments on my stories. Thanks for reading!

I hope you'll also like my last Daemon story.

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

Daemon is a man of many complexities. With the sleek, tailored suits he wore to business meetings, you almost forget that there is a certain fire beneath his cool exterior. He isn’t the kind of man to show his emotions easily, nor was he the type to stand still when there is a task to be done. But when he is with you, all of that seems to melt away.

But now, you are facing the reality of his business trip. The one he has to leave for so soon. You don‘t know how long he’d be gone, and that is the hardest part. He would normally give you exact dates and let you in on his plans. Usually to rant about his business partners. But this time, he didn't know how long he would be gone. And you hated it. You hate the uncertainty, you hate the distance that it created. And yet you know he has no choice. Duty, work, all of it… it doesn't make it any easer though.

You are in your bedroom now, your mind racing. The soft lighting in the room creats a sensual atmosphere, and as you gaze at the old camera on the dresser, the thought of giving Daemon a farewell gift consumes you. You aren’t the type to be overtly emotional, but this is different. You want to leave a piece of you with him, something tangible. Something to make him smile when he is far away.

You move to the bed, your fingers grazing the smooth silk sheets. Carefully, you strip out of your clothes, leaving only your lingerie—a white lace that clings to your skin, accentuating your curves. You aren’t trying to seduce him in the usual way; no, this is different. This is something deeper. You are offering him a part of yourself, a memory of you when the distance felt too much to bear.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the camera just so, making sure it has the right angle. This is the first time you are doing something like this, and a slight nervousness creeps in. But you push it down, telling yourself that Daemon would love it. After all, he appreciates the unconventional, the unexpected. You are certain this would be something that would make him smile when he was alone in some hotel room, far away.

The camera rolls as you lie back, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you imagine his reaction. You shift slightly, adjusting your position, arching your back slightly so the lace clung to you even more. You want him to feel your presence when he watches this. You want to be in his thoughts, every moment, every second.

What you didn’t realize was that Daemon was already closer than you thought.

Daemon is walking down the hallway when he hears a faint sound. He knows you are in the bedroom, but he hadn't expected this. Curiosity draws him closer, each step silent as he approaches the door. He peers through the crack, his heart beating slightly faster as he sees you lying there on the bed, dressed in nothing but lace and silk, the camera trained on you.

He grins. The look on your face—soft, sensual, and unaware—make something deep inside him stir. You have no idea he is watching.

His breathing slows as he leans against the doorframe, unable to avert his gaze. The way you move, the way the fabric of your underwear caresses your body, it's like a slow, seductive dance just for him. His eyes take in every detail, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the softness of your skin, without you noticing his presence. He feels his desire stirring, his length twitching.

Daemon is just standing in the doorway watching you. Your eyes are closed as your fingers glide over your body and you sigh softly. Do you imagine that they are his fingers? He feels his member twitch slightly again, but he just watches you. Your fingers glide over the fabric of your panties and you sigh again. You press against the fabric and he knows you are pressing against your bundle of nerves. Your hips move slightly as your fingers glide over the fabric in circles. The camera captures everything, every sigh and soft whimper as your fingers pick up speed.

He knows it is wrong to just stand there, to not make his presence known, but a thrill ran through him. He lets himself enjoy the moment—before stepping forward, slowly, deliberately.

With a deep breath, Daemon walks into the room, his footsteps silent as he approachs the bed. They haven't noticed him yet, but the air has changed as soon as he walks further into the room.

The cool confidence in his stride, the intensity of his presence—it is impossible to ignore. Slowly, he enters the room and watches you closely, but you don't notice. “Are you already preparing for my absence?“ His deep voice suddenly sounds. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp, "Daemon!" You sit up slightly and breathe a little heavily. “No, no... don't let me disturb you, go on,” he encourages you with a small smile around his lips.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for you!“ you pout a little. “Oh believe me, this is a surprise,“ he says and starts to unbutton his pants. “Daemon...” you start, but you can already feel the throbbing intensify between your thighs.

“And where did you dig that thing up?” he mumbles, while his pants slide down and he tilts his head in the direction of the camera. But you don't answer immediately, your attention is focused on his boxer shorts, which are already sliding towards the floor. His hardness springs free and the throbbing between your thighs becomes unbearable. You squeeze your thighs together. “I wanted you to have something to take with you on your business trip...“ you say, earning a chuckle from Daemon as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. ”Well, I could watch a video of me keeping you company instead,“ he mumbles and crawls onto the bed. ”What...?” you start, but then you understand, “Oooh…“ you say.

But then he grabs you by the back of your knees and pulls you towards him. You let out a small squeak, but you can't stop smiling. Your legs wrap around his waist as if by themselves and you pull him closer. His scent envelops you as you press your face into his neck – his growl fills the room as he grinds his length against your core.

Your teeth dig lightly into his skin as his hip grinds against you in rhythm. His eyes flashing with primal desire,“Get them off, ” he mutters. Slowly, torturously, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down your thighs, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze.

He tosses your discarded underwear aside carelessly. His large hands skim up your sides, pushing your lingerie up to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.

Leaning down, he captures one pebbled nipple between his teeth, suckling and nibbling as his fingers find your slick folds, stroking teasingly. "So wet already, just for me... I bet this tight little cunt is aching to be filled, isn't it baby?".

You just whimper, ending in a desperate moan, your back arching slightly as Daemon teases your nipple with his teeth and tongue.

He smirks wickedly at your breathy moan, reveling in the power he holds over your pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping wet heat, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace

"Fuck, you're dripping, babe," he groans, curling his fingers to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. "This greedy cunt is sucking me in, like it never wants to let go."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub in tight, fast circles as he increases the speed of his thrusting fingers. Leaning down, he laves his tongue over your neglected nipple again before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, which makes you moan.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty noises," he demands huskily against your breast.

Releasing your nipple with a wet pop, he starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth over your racing pulse point.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he moans and you whimper in reply, your hips moving against his fingers as you want to feel him deeper inside you.

He just smirks wickedly at your wanton response, enjoying the sight of you writhing beneath him, flushed and panting with need. Sliding his two long fingers deeper inside your dripping channel, he curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot within. Your pussy is dripping and you feel your walls flutter around his fingers. Daemon's teeth dig into the soft skin of your neck and you moan out again.

"Mmmm, such a responsive little thing you are," he groans approvingly, pumping his digits slowly. "Clenching so greedily around my fingers, like this greedy cunt is starving for my cock."

And in that moment, Daemon pulls his fingers out of your dripping heat. You whimper in protest and look up at him as he sits up slightly. He grins cheekily as he sees you lying there, breathing heavily and spread for him.

He fists his length in his hand, pumping it a few times, your slick on his fingers aiding the motion. You watch his long and thick manhood as he strokes it, and your pussy clenches around nothing. Even in the dim light of the room, you can see a pearly bead of liquid forming at the tip, and you bite your lip in anticipation. He grunts as he fucks his fist, biting his lip as well as his eyes roam over your naked form.

He leans down again, letting the tip slide through your pussy and you whimper again as he thrusts shallowly against your opening. You try to push your hips towards him because you finally want to feel him inside you.

A stifled groan escapes his lips as you grind your folds against his cock.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, but then he gives in and you feel the stretch. You gasp as he penetrates deeper inch by inch. He growls as he feels your pussy clench and pushes deeper. The way your walls wrap around his shaft, drawing him deeper and deeper inside until his swollen tip presses against your cervix. You're so tight and wet, you're leaking all over his cock.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he slides out almost completely and then pushes into you again. His thrusts get faster and harder, making you moan and gasp. His balls slap against your ass with every powerful thrust. The tip of his cock hits your cervix with more force and you cry out slightly. The bed creaks with every movement and your back arches slightly, wanting to feel him deeper. When Daemon suddenly grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders. You gasp and look at him, but before you can react, he slides back into your pussy. You moan and your eyes roll back into your head. Daemon growls, he feels your pussy fluttering around his cock. He thrusts deeper into your heat, leaning forward a little to make you scream. “Daemon!” you scream, and he grunts. He stretches you out, deepening the angle even more. “YES! Let me hear how deep you need it!” he grunts.

He pulls out for merely a second before slamming back in with full force, electrifying every nerve in your body and coaxing more sounds out of you. Your legs are still over his shoulder, he has a firm grip on you while he fucks hard into you. Tears form in your eyes as Daemon holds your thighs. His grunts get louder and louder as he feels your pussy start to milk his cock.

He can feel how close you are and his fingers glide to your clit. He rubs your clit wildly, playing with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, making you see stars while you clench hard around him. “Come on, come on my cock!” he growls and you whimper as he thrusts deeper and you can't hold back anymore. You come and feel your orgasm rush through your body as you moan. Your pussy clenching hard around his cock and he grunts. He slides in and out until he spills his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He cums hard, his cock throbbing inside you with abandon as he grunts and groans. Part of him delights in the thought of marking you, of filling you with a hot, sticky reminder of him.

His motion becomes sloppy and he growls until every drop is milked from his cock.

You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Daemon lets your legs slide off his shoulders before he leans down and kisses you. Almost gently, in contrast to the previous moment. After he breaks the kiss, your eyes fall back on the camera that has captured all this. But before you can say anything, you hear Daemon's hoarse voice. “Now I have a great video for those lonely moments,” he murmurs against your skin and you giggle slightly.

[verinarin]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

cw // contains 2.2 penacony quest spoilers

Angst | years after he vanished, you found solace in the path of trailblaze. the day you departed from the astral express, however was the day another version of him greets you.

Traversing through the stars as a nameless was never something you see for yourself, but alas after years of escaping the pain of loosing you have found peace.

You boarded the express with a bleeding wound, yet departed with a new sense of self. Blazing the path of traiblaze has given you precious memories.

Memories that have become the solace you yearn for and now you reside on a planet far away from your hometown, Penacony.

Your heart still burns for the spirit of trailblazing, spreading the tales you’ve theard upon these past years was your way of keeping the spirit of trailblazing alive.

There’s hundreds of letters you have sent to the nameless who still traverse the sky full of stars, while you blaze paths for the younger generations to yearn to reach the glimmering stars above.

“Miss, is it true that the astral express has two conductors?,” a young boy that perched up to your lap asked.

“Well now we only have one conductor which is pom-pom and a navigator ! The astral express’ current navigator is Miss Himeko,” you smiled softly as you stroked the boy’s hair.

This is a glimpse of your life now, as the local’s beloved storyteller. You could be easily found reading a book or writing at a cafe near your house.

You heard a motherly voice searching for her son, “Now young man it seems that you mother is searching for you, better to go back to her alright,” you pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright ! Bye bye Miss Nameless,” he waved as he ran back towards his mother who offered you a thank you smile from afar.

Now you reside back at your table, a letter has found its way to you. Perhaps it was friends from the astral express, but there’s the ‘pom-pom’s signature’ stamp to be found after all.

With a smile you pressed the rim of your coffee filled cup to your lips, it’s been a while since you talked to them. As you place down your cup, a tinge of amberwood lingers in the air.

It was a scent that you found alluring years ago, it made you feel a little bit nostalgic. You close your eyes and let the tale of the past play inside your mind like a movie.

“Excuse me, Miss. Is this seat taken ?,” a voice greeted you, his voice has successfully awaken you from your daydream.

“The seat in front of me ?,” he asked as you flutter your eyes open, to reveal a man dressed in a white shirt.

The collar was unbuttoned slightly revealing a chest that harbours scars across the body, it took you seconds to tilt your head up.

You can’t really make out the man’s face, the sun that shines warmly behind him hinders you from doing so, “Yeah, the seat on your table” he chuckled, as he folded his arms.

His arms were proudly displayed against his chest, his sleeves were rolled up to display his strong arms, clean from any scars. In contrast with his chest.

“Well I’m not meeting anyone, so feel free,” you extend your hand towards the seat in front of you, letting him know that it’s alright for him to sit in front of you.

And so he did, now you could clearly study his face. He has kind eyes, rich brown in colour. His features were strong and rugged yet somehow gentle in nature. His face was decorated with salt and pepper stubble, signifying his old age.

His hair was parted in the middle, it was as long as his neck. You could tell that he cared a lot for his hair, it was well groomed, “Are you not going to ask who I am ?” he smiled as he saw you gazing through himself.

“Ah sorry for staring, you just feel familiar,” you stated honestly before brushing your hair back.

“How so ?” his eyes lingers at you, coaxing you to question more and more about him.

“Can’t tell really,” you’re not going to blabber upon the past that haunts you for so long now, would you ?

Not when you’ve grown this far.

“Heh, such a shame then,” the cadence of his voice, irks your mind. Scratches your heart in some way….

“A shame indeed,” you nodded, your fingers circling the rim of your cup as you await his reply.

“I heard you were once a nameless,” that’s a well known fact by now, at least in the area you live in.

“It was years ago but I'm glad my name still holds some fame, so do you need something from the astral express?” he will not be the first person who makes use of your past to contact the express.

“Nah, I’m just here for your audience,” he spoke, the tone was light yet somehow deep in context, shrouded in mystery.

“Who are you?” you asked the question he yearned the most, his face reflects it perfectly.

“Care to take an educated guess, Miss ?” he cocked his eyebrows as you ruminated through the possibilities.

“You still do the thing huh ?” he chuckled, his face now rested against his palm as he watches you picking apart the past and the future.

“What thing ?” you asked, he spoke those words like he knew you for years, which was odd. He’s a stranger after all.

“The thing where you’ll pout your lips slightly when you’re drowned by your thoughts,” he knew you, knew you well enough and long enough to notice these things.

“Let’s cut to the chase, don’t play games with me old man. Who are you ?” your eyes bore deep into his own, trying to pry the truth out of him.

“Funny, you used to call me that too,” he chuckles, his eyes bore no malice, just a sense of long and yearning.

You only called ‘old man' to a handful of people, but one strikes the most in this case, but it can’t be him.

You refuse it to be him.

You merely stared at him, not wanting to entertain his statement, “Fine, I’ll give out a little tip. I tend to amend things, which is why I am here now, sitting idly in front of you,”

“Amend things ? How could you amend things that are not broken ?” you questioned, the man before you was too relaxed and aloof to be talking in riddles.

“Well you’re not broken per say, but well I am,” the man merely chuckled as he looked down towards the concrete floor.

“So you want me to fix you ?” you ask, your endless pond of patience grew dry by the second.

“Close, but no,” you could see the evident smirk as he kept his gaze down.

“You’re speaking in riddles here sir, some might mistake you as a follower of the enigmata if you keep this up,” this time his eyes trained itself back to yours.

“Well aren’t you still sharp,” he mused, clearly happy that he didn’t need to elaborate on more.

“You’re not him, you can’t be him anymore,” this is a fact, even if this being was him, it is not him.

“Can’t be who ? I’ve been living countless lives before. Be specific would ya ?” the man now let his back rest against the chair, ain’t he comfortable now ?

“You know very well the life I’m talking about,” you sighed, he could be him or even a part of masked fools really.

The masked fools that’s notorious for transforming themselves into one’s beloved.

“Well say that name for old time’s sake, humour this ol’ hound,” never mind, it is him. A masked fool won’t replicate this current body that he made, he’s a stranger to you.

A foreign being.

“You’re not Gallagher, never will be him again as a matter of fact,” that type of wording was not your style to use, you felt bad for speaking those truths.

“Ouch that stings, I was him y’know,” he lips pouted, while his arms are folded against his chest. Yet his gaze still placed snugly into you.

“Past tense,” you quipped, well you felt bad about the cold demeanour, but still how would someone act in this situation ?

“Touché,” he laughed, now from his mannerisms. It reminds you of Gallagher, but he’s not him.

This man is well put, smells expensive, and it seems like he does not drink that much. When you think about it, the man before you resembles the qualities that you find attractive in a man.

As wouldn’t you know it, you told this list to Gallagher over a drink years ago.

“Let me ask you this once more, who are you ?” your stern voice was something he never listened to, but he welcomed it warmly.

“Whoever you want me to be,” he smiles, his voice sounds like he was teasing, but you know deep down that it is true.

“Why are you here ?” the question that has been clouding your mind since the reveal.

“To see through another fiction with you as my main muse,” his voice draws deeper than before.

The gravity of his statement was heavy, it made your heart stop for a mere second just to make sense of it all.

His eyes softened as he saw your shock ridden expression, your hands trembled, unsure with what to answer. He finds his way to hold them gently.

It felt nostalgic, even though the hand that held yours was not the same as before, it felt like home.

“To fabricate a new page in history, to make amends for the past, to see through another life. I’m here to live another life with you, to grow old by your side,” he continues, somehow the display of loyalty soothed your trembling hands.

“And even after death, I’ll wait for you to be reborn back into my arms, forever more,” his warmth left your hand as he stood up from his chair.

He walked towards your side, your hands now placed perfectly against your lap as he kneels before you.

“That is my reason,” he leaned down, bringing your fingertips towards his lips.

“Own my heart once more, dearest,” he begged.

The man begged for a chance once more.

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Sunday hc's

(I haven't had the time to play 2.2, so some of this might conflict—)

In the eyes of the people of Penacony you're the perfect couple, the shining example of two souls kindled in Xipe's all accepting glory

Your background doesn't matter, not really...

Sure, it's expected of him to take on a darling lover of equal status, perhaps some prime shining star in another branch of the all encompassing family

But all are accepted in the family's benevolent glory, right?

He loves you like you're equals, like you're his perfect soulmate, his one true darling love...

Public appearances are necessary of course, his ever present smile and perfectly kept appearance as he effortlessly drapes an arm around your waist, as if you were simply another part of his perfect persona, his missing puzzle piece

In private he's much more doting, sickeningly so

His chaste little public pecks don't hold a candle to the almost sloppy breathy kisses he gives in private, with his wings fluttering as he stares up at you, as if you were an extension of Xipe themself

His arms wrapped so tight around you that it's almost needy, as if he can't force himself to detach

God he needs you, needs you like air, like life itself...

That's made abundantly clear as he doesn't dare detach from your sweet lips, your perfect skin against his

"Perfect..." He'd mumbled over and over, as if he really believed it

Of course his wings are sensitive

If you touch them in public you might earn a little glare, his pretty eyes narrowing slightly at your attempt to get him to drop that lovely little act of his

In private it's fair game, though

He might, if the mood is right, guide your hands there himself, silently begging you to comfort him after such a horribly stressful day

Your sweet touch is a craving nothing else can satisfy

Preening his wings is also something he just might let you do, after you've gotten comfortable with each other

Your sweet fingers brushing through his feathers, he can only close his eyes in bliss, trying hard to stay perfectly still

He's a control freak, that much is obvious, but he's far from mean, far from unfair...

Of course he'll pick out your outfits daily, they just have to match his, and of course you'll need to be by his side as much as physically possible...

Once his mind is made up, it's quite hard to sway, but it's all in your best interest, as his darling love...

He'll make it up to you with flowers so fresh you'd swear they're still growing, with the most delicious food in all of Penacony, and especially with enough love to drown in, privately of course

But it's hard to stay mad when he's so keen on keeping you his, on laying his claim as your perfect match

[cloudshuffle]

one of us is lying. yan!sunday

2.2 spoilers

"Do you love me?"

You pause in your movements, cupping Sunday's face in a hand and tilting it up to look at you. His eyes flutter shut as you press a kiss to his forehead.

"Why would you ask that?" You run your fingers along his hairline, brushing the ambiguously blue strands away from his face. Sunday leans into your touch, blinking slowly in bliss, unable to take his eyes off you.

If he was a cat, he'd be purring.

His grip on you tightens every so slightly. "Do you?" he asks again instead.

"Of course I do," you reply. He leans his head toward your chest, and you take it as your cue to play with his hair. "But why?"

Sunday doesn't say anything for a long moment, taking slow, deep breaths, running his hands meditatively up and down your back. You kiss him on the head again, hoping to coax the answer out of him.

He knows you, as well as you - the you he had to draw out of you, torturous and painful, until he could put you to bed and locked those memories away as nothing but a night terror. It broke his heart to see you in such pain; but after all, it was best for the both of you, no secrets between lovers.

Until now. Now, the guilt keeps nipping at his ass, bothering him at inopportune timings, like the dead of night when he watches your sleeping face - or now, when you're the only one left he knows how to be vulnerable with.

Maybe Robin was right. Maybe he does need a break.

"Sunday?" you prompt gently.

He shifts his head, bringing attention to his wings, so you take them gently in both hands, rubbing the soft feathers between your fingers.

Sunday shudders in pleasure, burying his face into your chest.

"...don't look at me," he murmurs.

"I'm not." You chuckle quietly, resting your head on his, and it reverberates all the way into his very soul.

[slut4thebroken]

The Deal

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | frat/fuck boy!Robert Fisher x reader

Summary | You’re supposed to be tutoring Robert but he needs your help “taking care of something” before he can focus.

Warnings | Smut, public sex, dumbification, “accidental” creampie, fingering, kissing, him being kinda pervy, a little degradation, technically misogyny, coercion?, praise.

Words | 2.2 k

Notes | ty @hllywdwhre for all your help 😭🙏🏻

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Ever since the first time you tutored Robert at his place and he fucked you, you refused to go anywhere private for your sessions. Which usually meant you’d meet up at the library or a cafe. Today was no different. You met him at the library at 4 pm and, as always, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of your body. 

“Robert, you actually have to look at what I’m writing to learn this.” You huffed, getting annoyed when you caught him staring at your tits for the fifth time in barely ten minutes. 

“It’s not my fault you’re showing them off. I thought nerds were supposed to be prudes.” He smirked, making you blush a little. Honestly you didn’t get why Robert was paying for you to tutor him in the first place. He clearly didn’t care about learning the material. 

“I’m not... “showing them off.’” You muttered. “If you want to actually pass this class, you should figure out how to pay attention.” He smirked at your attempt to be stern with him. 

“You know, I’d be able to pay attention if my dick wasn’t hard.” He said casually, making you choke on your spit as your eyes widened. You still weren’t used to him talking like that. “And you look so fuckable in that sluttly little skirt.” His gaze dragged down your body to stare at your bare thighs. 

“Robert, stop.” You warned, making his smirk widen. 

“You said you want me to pay attention.” He said coyly. “So you can either get under the table and suck me off or we can go somewhere more private and I can fuck my load into that tight little cunt I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the past month.” His voice was low and thick with arousal, and you swallowed audibly when his eyes fluttered back up to your face. 

“N-no. We’re not doing that again, it was a mistake.” You cringed when you heard the waver in your voice. 

“A mistake? Baby, if it was a mistake then why did it feel so good?” He purred. 

“I’m serious, Robert.” You’re not the type of girl who partakes in one night stands and you’ve felt embarrassed and ashamed for weeks because of how easily you gave into temptation. 

“So am I.” All of the amusement in this tone was suddenly gone. “Either stand up or get on your fucking knees.” You couldn’t help it when your thighs squeezed together a little from his words. “Well?” He asked impatiently. You bit your lip and looked away, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t want to do this again. And yet…

His smirk returned when you reluctantly got to your feet. “Good girl.” You followed him to the back of the library and once you were in a secluded area, he pushed you up against a shelf before pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, forcing a muffled sound of surprise from you. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your breasts, going down the curve of your waist to your hips, then down even further to feel the soft skin of your thighs. As one hand snaked up underneath your skirt and cupped your heat, he let out a low groan into the kiss. 

“God- I’ve missed this fucking cunt.” He whispered, moving down to start kissing over your neck. “And these tits.” His free hand pushed both your top and your bra up above your breasts. 

“Robert, wait.” You whispered, trying to pull it back down. But he quickly leaned forward and took your nipple into his mouth, suckling on the hardened bud, effectively keeping you from covering yourself. “Someone could walk by.” You whispered more urgently this time, then gasped when his hand suddenly slipped in your panties to start rubbing your clit. 

“Shh… Just be quiet and we’ll be fine, baby.” He murmured against you before simultaneously moving his mouth to your other nipple and pushing two fingers inside you. He let out a low, appreciative moan when he felt the tightness of your walls practically suffocating just two fingers. “I forgot how fucking tight you are.” He groaned, curling his fingers against your walls, making your hands fly up to cling to his shoulders. 

“Robert.” You whimpered. He suddenly bit your nipple lightly, making you gasp as your hips bucked. 

“I can’t believe I’ve gone all these years fucking the whores who throw themselves at me and not the nerds who keep their cunts nice and tight by not sleeping around.” He chuckled, pulling back to look at you as he pushed a third finger in. You let your head fall back against the shelf as your mouth opened in a silent moan, your hips just barely grinding on his hand. You could feel the bulge in his pants pushing against your leg now and you started panting at just the thought of what was about to happen. 

When your back arched slightly, jutting your exposed breasts out more, he cursed under his breath and removed his fingers to start unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. You gasped as he suddenly spun you around and bent you forward a little. Wasting no time, he swiftly pulled your panties down just below your ass, then used one hand to hold your hip, while the other lined his cock up with your entrance. 

“Wait— Condom.” You said quickly, making him pause. He huffed but released you and you looked over your shoulder, watching him pull out his wallet and look through it 

“I don’t have one.” You bit your lip and glanced down at his cock. It was already beading precum and so incredibly flushed— your cunt pulsed at the thought of it finally inside you again. 

“Okay- okay, just pull out.” You said firmly and he nodded before eagerly getting back into position. “I’m serious, Robert.” You said, making him roll his eyes. 

“I know— I will.” He said impatiently. Once you got his verbal agreement, you turned back around, letting him line up again. The thick head of his cock dragged through your slit, spreading your arousal before pushing up against your hole. When his cock breached your entrance, you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped out. He continued pushing deeper until his hips were flush with your ass and you let out a shaky breath as your walls struggled to accommodate the intrusion. 

“Fuck- ease up, you’re practically forcing me out.” He grunted, moving both hands to hold your hips as he paused. 

“Sorry.” You whimpered. You didn’t really know why you were apologizing though since you couldn’t help how tight you were. He kept a firm grip on your hips as he slowly dragged his hips back and when he moved forward again, your legs trembled and you quickly clung to the shelf to hold yourself up. 

“I swear… this is the best pussy I’ve ever fucked.” He said through a breath, making you whine quietly. “Wraps perfectly around my cock.” He started thrusting a little faster now, but not fast enough to make too much noise. You had to cover your mouth with your hand because you were getting just a little too loud and you knew Robert wouldn’t stop because of that. If anything he’d probably fuck you harder just to make you moan louder. 

When he leaned over you so your back was flush with his front, then grabbed your breasts, you bit down on your hand, trying to stay quiet. Robert squeezed and groped you greedily before focusing on your nipples, rolling them between his fingers until you were gasping out.  

“I bet the only reason you wanted to have these sessions here was so that I’d finally rail you in public, out where anyone could get a free show.” You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut as you shook your head a little. “I felt your cunt tighten up when I said that…” He scoffed in response to your weak protest. “Who would’ve guessed that the nerd was actually a little whore.” He chuckled, making your cheeks burn with a dark blush. 

“You wear these slutty tops that show off your tits, these tiny little skirts that barely cover anything…” He stood straight again and flipped your skirt up, giving him a clearer view of your ass bouncing with each thrust. “And fuck— when you wear those fucking glasses, I swear I get harder than I thought was physically possible.”

“Robert..” You whimpered, the sound coming out muffled beneath your hand as you reached down to rub your clit that was throbbing almost painfully by now.  

“I know.” He cooed mockingly. “You’re so smart all the time… I bet you’ve just been waiting for someone to finally fuck you into the brainless bimbo you pretend not to be, huh?” 

“Oh god…” You sobbed quietly, knees buckling as you got closer to your release.  

“You get a cock in this needy little cunt and all that IQ just disappears instantly.” He chuckled, the sound a deep rumble as he tried to stay quiet. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll let you tutor me if I get to fuck all those thoughts out of your pretty little head after. How does that sound, baby?” You mewled and nodded, back arching, unintentionally pushing your hips into his. “Good girl.” He said through a breathy laugh. 

His hands settled on your hips again and he sped up even more. He wasn’t holding you enough to keep you from falling to the floor as your legs turned to jelly, so you had to take the hand off of your mouth and hold yourself up, wanting to keep rubbing your clit. All you could focus on was Robert, his cock, and your impending orgasm. 

“Wanna come.” You whined, making him laugh again. 

“Yeah? Does that needy pussy want to cream all over my cock?” He cooed, his mocking only pushing you closer to the edge. When you mewled and nodded again, he said, “Go ahead, baby. Show me how much you love being my bimbo bitch.”  

You rubbed your clit impossibly faster, now chasing your orgasm more eagerly since you had his permission. When the knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped, your knees buckled, almost sending you to the floor, but Robert held you up and pushed you into the bookshelf a little more to keep you from falling. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through you and you tried to keep your sounds quiet, but with his cock still fucking you relentlessly, your efforts were unavailing. 

Robert was moaning quietly behind you at the feeling of your walls convulsing around his cock and with one final grunt, he pulled your hips back to meet his thrust. You whined as his cock twitched with each rope of come that spurted out, painting your walls. The sounds he was letting out were starting to make you needy all over again, but soon enough they quieted into heavy breathing as he rested his body on yours, panting against your neck. 

“Fuck…” He hissed, finally leaning up again and slowly dragging his hips back until his cock slipped out of your fluttering hole. He pushed you down farther so that your torso was almost parallel to the floor, then grabbed your ass cheeks and spread you open, watching his come dribble out of your puffy folds. 

His come. 

Fuck. 

“Robert.” You whined once you realized that he didn’t pull out. 

“What?” He asked absentmindedly, playing with your sensitive pussy and pushing his come back inside before pulling your panties up around your hips. 

“You said you’d pull out..” You heard clothes rustling, then he was lifting you up and turning you around to fix your own clothes. 

“Sorry, baby, I forgot.” He said, with no remorse in his tone. “You just felt so good.” You stared up at him through your lashes as you pouted. When he realized you were about to say something again, he pulled you into another kiss. You draped your arms over his shoulders, needing a little help standing on your legs that still felt like jelly. 

“Excuse me!” An offended voice said from the end of the aisle. You both turned to look, finding one of the older librarians standing there with a cart full of books to be reshelved. “That’s hardly appropriate for this setting.” She scoffed. 

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. Thank you for the warning, it won’t happen again.” Robert said with an ingratiating tone as he placed his hand on your lower back to guide you past her. She even blushed when he gave her that charming smile he usually uses to get what he wants.  

As you walked back to the table, he leaned down to speak against your ear. “Next week I’ll see you at my place. I expect you to uphold your end of the deal.” Your fucked out brain could barely even remember what he was talking about when he said “the deal” but you blushed when you realized what you technically agreed to just a few minutes ago. Maybe you were still cock drunk… but the idea didn’t seem too bad now.

[aisclosed]

love bites - y. jungwon x reader

vampirism comes with unusual cravings and unique solutions

PAIRING: vampire! y. jungwon x vampire! reader GENRE: vampire au , established relationship, fluff | WORDCOUNT: 2.2 k WARNINGS: slightly suggestive , mentions of blood n bites

You do your best to ignore it, the aching sensation radiating from your teeth. But the pain is insistent, throbbing twinges extending from your gums down into your jaw. 

The feeling is almost enough to make you cave, to call your boyfriend and whine for any sort of relief. Almost. Instead you sigh, eyes flickering out the large windows looking at the expanse of the city, the light of the stars competing with the fluorescent buildings and signs. 

It had been weeks since you'd last left your apartment, you weren't ready, not fully turned or prepared to navigate the world in your new form. Jungwon’s words, not your own, and as much as you missed walking the bustling streets with him, you knew he was right. 

There's a faint hunger in the back of your mind, one that had become all too familiar these past weeks. Your brain supplies memories of warm tteokbokki, noodles and dumplings despite knowing that none of the former options could satiate your appetite. As your skin lost its warmth, your heart slowing in its cavity, you had lost your palate for real food, instead craving something that you currently had no way to get on your own. 

Wincing as another stab of pain steals your attention. you run your tongue gingerly running across the edge of your teeth, feeling out the sharp edge of the unfamiliar fangs that had begun to protrude. 

“I thought I told you to tell me if it hurts,” a low voice cuts through the silence, your heart jumping at the disruption. Even after years of dating, you could never get used to your boyfriend appearing abruptly from the shadows. You snap your mouth shut, glancing over to meet narrowed feline eyes with poorly feigned nonchalance. 

“It doesn't hurt, I’m fine,” you say breezily, drawing a scoff from Jungwon. He stalks forward, reaching out to cradle your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. The icy temperature of his skin is a welcome sensation, and you lean into his palm letting it soothe the flaring ache in your jaw. 

“And you expect me to believe you when you're acting like this?” Jungwon mutters unamusedly. You crack your eyes open from where they had fluttered close, sweeping over his furrowed brows. Despite his best attempts at maintaining his stern expression, he was given away easily by the way his eyes softened upon making contact with yours. 

Jungwon knew your stubborn mannerisms well, that you would rather suffer than admit to him that you needed his help. Which is how he knew that once you had set your mind to joining him as a vampire you wouldn't relent until your wish was granted. Yet that hadn’t stopped him from trying for several weeks to convince you that it wasn't a necessary change. Promises that he would still love you regardless of how you aged and no he didn’t mind that one day you might be mistaken for his sugar mommy rather than his centuries younger girlfriend. His last comment had earned him an indignant scoff rather than an enamored smile like he had been expecting, and he had spent the rest of the day sucking up to you for your forgiveness. 

It had taken many arguments, tears, warnings, pleading kisses and long conversations on what exactly eternity together detailed before Jungwon had surrendered. His coven had been ecstatic at the news, congratulating him with hearty claps on the shoulder and teasing ‘about time’s. 

In all honesty, the pair of you both knew that when it came down to it, Jungwon would much rather have you by his side forever than let you wither away. You were his, and he was yours, and when he thought about an eternal lifetime with you his happiness was poorly concealed. Jungwon only wished that it wasn't at the cost of your own humanity. You would no longer be able to enjoy your favorite foods, your cheeks wouldn’t redden to the same degree when he teased you, you’d have to see your loved ones leave this earth, one by one. 

The guilt ate at him more than the pain ate at you, and that was your main motivation to hide the truth. So you did your best to swallow back the complaints and whines that threatened to spill from your lips, unwilling to see guilt swimming in his red tinted eyes. It’s a futile attempt, given that Jungwon could pick up on the waves of pain through your newly formed blood bond, his attentive eyes catching each wince.

Sighing in exasperation, Jungwon grasps your chin, tapping your bottom lip with his thumb, ”Open up for me baby, let me take a look at your fangs.” You consider insisting you’re fine, that his examination is entirely unnecessary, but the thought is dismissed by the firm look Jungwon gives you, and you comply baring your teeth as best as you could. 

You wait patiently as Jungwon inspects your teeth, tilting your chin up to grant him a better view. Instead you take the opportunity to admire your boyfriend's handsome features, the slope of his nose and the angle of his jawline. Your eyes trail down the expanse of his neck, decorated with traces of your lips and two faint puncture marks, long healed to where they looked more akin to moles than scars. 

From his close proximity you can smell an enticing fragrance wafting from his body. Jungwon always smelled good, of warm amber and clean linen sheets, but there was another underlying scent that caught your attention. There's blood pumping through his veins, fresh blood, Jungwon had recently hunted and fed. The thought causes your vision to cloud, hunger prickling at the edges of your mind.

“Baby,” Jungwon calls out softly, and your eyes drag away from his neck, struggling to find his own in your dazed state. “You're literally drooling,” he chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear and tugging on the lobe affectionately. 

He had noticed your wandering attention, the way your stare locked onto his neck, a red tint slowly creeping into your eyes and your fangs fully extending against the pads of his prodding fingers. It was a good sign, your instincts were getting stronger and your senses sharper. Soon, you'd be a full fledged vampire. 

A slight flush spreads across your cheeks, the best it can with the limited blood flowing through your system. “Sorry,” you apologize meekly, embarrassed at the prospect of being caught openly salivating over him. 

Jungwon only coos at you teasingly, leaning down to peck your pink cheeks, and then grazing his lips against the slightly raw puncture wounds on your neck. Unlike other injuries which would quickly be remedied by their healing abilities, the initial bite, meant to turn you into a vampire, required much more patience, only closing when the transformation was complete.

The skin on your neck was still broken and bruised but as much as it pained Jungwon to know he had caused you hurt, it also gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction to see the mark he had left on you. He always loved littering your skin with love bites but seeing them fade was his least favorite part. His bite mark would forever remain, a testament to the vows you had made to each other the day he had turned you. 

“Nothing to apologize for my love, I drank extra today because I knew you'd be hungry. C’mere.” He tugs you towards the couch, sitting down on the plush seat then pulling you unceremoniously onto his lap. 

The minuscule distance makes your fangs push uncomfortably against your lips, unable to deny the alluring scent wafting from your boyfriend. You wait for Jungwon to bite into his wrist and present it to you, the way he had fed you each time these past few weeks. 

Instead Jungwon just smirks at you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leans back against the cushions. “Well? I thought you were hungry baby, come kiss me and bite me.” You splutter, panicking at the mere mention of having to bite him, but Jungwon merely laughs in response, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. 

“Don’t be nervous, your fangs are more than ready to do the job and I’ll stop you if anything goes wrong. Remember darling, you bite firmly, sink your teeth in to make a clean wound instead of ripping tissue. As soon as it's secure, you release some venom to alleviate the pain, make it feel nice for everyone and only then do you start to drink. The hardest part is stopping before you do too much damage but I’ll let you know if you're getting to that point okay?” 

“Wonnie, I don't want to accidentally hurt you-,” you start to protest but Jungwon cuts you off with a firm kiss to your lips. 

“You’ll be fine. I promise. If you don’t trust yourself, trust in me, hm? You need to drink so you can feel better and who better to practice on than me? Come on love, I promise I don’t bite,” he murmurs cheekily against your lips, inciting a roll of your eyes, a derisive laugh escaping from your chest at the irony. 

Shaking your head in mock exasperation, you concede, leaning in to plant a peck against Jungwon’s smirking mouth. You trail kisses lower until you've reached the hollow of his neck, ears pricking as soft satisfied sighs escape from his parted lips. 

Angling your head, you finally sink your teeth into his skin, your hands finding his shoulders for support. Jungwon's grip on your waist tightens for a split second until you release your venom, relaxing as the pain subsides and gives way to pleasure. 

 A metallic flavor floods your mouth, relief washing over you as the pain and hunger ebb away. Instead you focus on the taste against your tongue and the way Jungwon strokes your hair tenderly, pressing mumbled praises and groans against the side of your head. 

It's when you begin to feel nearly intoxicated at the feeling of feeding that Jungwon whispers into the hollow of your ear softly, “Alright sweetheart, it's time to stop drinking. Let the last of your venom out and then retract your fangs, help the wound close up, you're doing so good for me baby.” You follow his instructions as best you can given the foggy state of your mind, finally pulling away to look into Jungwon’s eyes. 

He rests his forehead against yours, cupping your jaw fondly, “You did perfectly darling, I'm so proud of you,” Jungwon tilts his face, slotting your lips together, fingers tangling into your hair to bring you closer. You loop your arms around his broad shoulders melting into his embrace. He sighs into your mouth, humming contently at the faint taste before reluctantly pulling away. 

“You were so good baby, soon you'll be able to go out and hunt for yourself no problem,” Jungwon beams at you. Still dizzy from the rush that drinking gave you, blood rushing in your ears, you settle into his arms, burying into the crook of his neck.. 

“I’d rather just have you hunt enough for the both of us and just let me drink from you,” you bat your eyes at Jungwon sweetly and he snorts in response. 

“You must really be blood drunk if you expect me to act as your personal Uber eats for the rest of millenia,” he teases, pinching your cheek. 

You huff petulantly, “Considering I’ve been your walking bloodbag for the past few years I think you owe me at least a year or two of the same.” 

“Not my fault you smell so yummy,” Jungwon noses at the column of your neck, his fangs grazing the skin, “how could you expect me to want anything else?” 

You try to push his face away from your neck to little avail. Jungwon held you tightly in his grasp, knowing you were just being difficult to mess with him. “Well your pickiness and lack of self control is the reason all my neighbors think I get my neck mauled by a bear every night. I refuse to start hunting, you’re just gonna make me into your personal juicebox again,” you grumble, giving in and letting Jungwon continue his ministrations. Vampire my ass, if anything he was more akin to an overgrown kitten, always nuzzling and nipping at your neck. 

Jungwon leans back far enough to knock his head into yours playfully, “Yeah right, you love when I give you love bites.” You go to protest but Jungwon cocks his head challengingly, his eyes daring you to try and deny it. The words die in the base of your throat, and you swallow harshly, your face heating as you look away, muttering half hearted insults under your breath. 

“Did you say something sweetheart?” Jungwon asks teasingly, and you widen your eyes in mock horror, knowing that with his heightened senses he had very clearly heard every word. 

“Just saying how much I love you darling,” you blink up at him, with a saccharine smile. 

Jungwon laughs, his dimple on full display, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips. “I love you more baby, even if that means I have to hunt for two for the rest of my very long life.” You give a satisfied hum and cuddle happily into his hold. Forever seemed a lot less daunting in Jungwon’s arms. 

a/n: ,,,,,idk what to say about this one. I wanted to give you guys something bc MTM is taking so long and I'm about to leave for vacation,,, and this ended up being the product of my 2am thoughts.... hope u enjoy :)

perm taglist: @hoonsunivrs @pkjay @thatfeelinwhenyou @lacimolela @ttalgi @cieluna @ahnneyong @luvlee1313 @meowmeowhoon @llama-lyna @dmoki @w3bqrl @16doie @itsvynnie @saintells @given8taken @yakjw @miukityy @meowwonie @simp4jakesim @teddywons @flowertothejungwon @skywithf1 @yur1a1 @nyeonglover @fallingenluvv

[kathlare]

lingering thoughts

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Set during the Austrian Grand Prix, this chapter delves into Lando Norris’s inner turmoil after learning about Amelie Dayman’s breakup.

Wordcount: 2.2 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

June 29th, 2023 - Spielberg, Austria

The Austrian Alps stood tall and imposing under the clear July sky, the paddock bustling with activity as drivers, team personnel, and media swarmed the Red Bull Ring. Lando Norris strolled through the paddock with a spring in his step, his usual easy grin plastered across his face. For once, he wasn’t faking it for the cameras. The reason for his good mood? Amelie Dayman was single again.

It had been just a few hours since the news broke. Both Amelie and Rodrigo Riquelme had posted identical Instagram stories confirming what Lando had only heard through rumors until now. The couple, who had been dating since late 2022, had quietly parted ways, and while Lando had heard whispers of their split—Carlos had been the one to mention it first when he overheard Checo talking to Max—he hadn’t believed it. Not really. He’d been hopeful, sure, but the logical side of him had dismissed the idea, unwilling to get his hopes up again. Now, with the confirmation on social media, there was a fluttering in his chest that he hadn’t felt in… well, a while.

His mind was racing, a thousand thoughts at once: What does this mean? Could this be it? Could we actually have another chance?

But there was also that nagging feeling deep down, the one that kept him from fully embracing his hope. The fear. The uncertainty. Maybe we’re not meant to be.

Lando sighed, his smile faltering for just a second before he caught himself. He was at Media Day for the Austrian Grand Prix, supposed to be focusing on the race weekend, yet his thoughts kept drifting back to Amelie. To her Instagram story. To the idea of her being single, and what that might mean for them.

There had been a time, not too long ago, when everything had been different. When he and Amelie had been more than just friends. It wasn’t anything public, anything anyone really knew about. They had kept it quiet, just the two of them. It was casual, nothing serious, or at least that’s how they had both convinced themselves. But that had been before everything fell apart—before she got caught up in filming Wicked and he’d started talking to Luisinha, who had become his girlfriend after he and Amelie ended things.

He hadn’t expected it to end like that. The whole situation with Amelie had left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially the way she seemed to completely shut him out. But now, months later, with the split between Amelie and Rodrigo, he couldn't help but wonder: Could we try again?

Lando shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he entered the media room. His PR team had already prepped him for the questions, the usual inquisition about the race, his season, his goals. But all he could think about was Amelie.

—Ready for the questions, Norris?— Carlos chuckled from beside him as he took a seat at the table.

Lando flashed a grin. —Always.—

But Carlos could tell something was different. Lando wasn’t his usual, carefree self. He was… lighter, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And Carlos, being Carlos, had a pretty good idea why. The rumors about Amelie and Rodrigo had been circulating for a while, and Carlos had known before anyone else that something was going on. He had seen how Lando had reacted when he first heard the news, the barely concealed hope in his eyes that maybe, just maybe, Amelie was finally single again.

Lando settled into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to look casual as the media session began. His eyes flicked over to Carlos, who gave him a knowing smirk. Lando shot him a glare, though it didn’t have the usual edge. He couldn’t help it. His mind was elsewhere.

Carlos leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low enough so only Lando could hear. —You’ve got a stupid grin on your face, mate. I know why.—

Lando bit back a laugh, a little nervous but trying not to show it. —I don’t know what you’re talking about.—

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. —The break-up news. You’re telling me you’re not at least a little excited?—

Lando’s smile faltered for a split second. —I don’t know. I mean... yeah, sure, I’m happy for her, if that’s what she wants, you know?—

Carlos leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying this. —Right. But also, it’s not like you’ve been completely ignoring it. You heard the rumors a while ago, yeah?—

Lando bit his lip, glancing around as the media settled in, beginning their usual string of questions. His mind was still caught in the whirlwind of possibility. —Yeah, I heard it, but… I didn’t want to believe it, you know? Like, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.—

—You do that a lot,— Carlos said with a grin, though his tone was softer now. —I think you’ve been hoping for this for a while.—

Lando’s fingers drummed against the table, though his focus was far away from the questions that were being asked. His thoughts were a blur. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, the idea that Amelie might actually be single again. The thought made him feel alive, but it also brought a flood of old memories, the times they’d spent together before everything fell apart. He remembered how easy it had been then, how simple it had seemed to be with her, even if they both denied it. He remembered the nights they’d spent talking, laughing, letting their walls down with each other.

Then, he remembered the end. The painful silence after they’d both walked away, trying to convince themselves they were fine, that everything was fine. But it had never really been fine. He had wanted more. They both had.

He couldn’t help it. A part of him had never really let go.

— Do you still talk to her?— Carlos asked, his voice breaking into Lando’s thoughts.

Lando snapped back to reality. — What? No. I haven’t talked to her since the last time, you know? That was...— He stopped himself, suddenly feeling the weight of the words. That was months ago. The silence between them had been suffocating. He hadn’t expected it, but somehow, he had known it was coming. —It’s been a while,— he added, a little quieter than he meant to.

Carlos nodded slowly, sensing the shift in Lando’s tone. —I get it. But I know how you are, mate. You’re not fooling anyone.—

Lando’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he quickly glanced away, focusing on the flashing cameras in front of him. He wanted to brush it off, to act like it didn’t matter, but it did. It mattered more than he wanted to admit. He’d kept his distance after they broke up, but the thought of Amelie being single again made him wonder.

Could they find their way back to each other?

His heart gave a small, hopeful leap at the thought, but then the fear crept in again. What if things weren’t meant to be? What if they were too broken to fix? What if they had moved on? What if she didn’t even want to hear from him?

Lando rubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake off the anxiety building in his chest.

The questions from the media began rolling in, but Lando could barely concentrate. His rehearsed answers tumbled out on autopilot, a mix of team strategies and hopes for the weekend’s race. The usual banter with Carlos helped mask his distraction, but every now and then, his mind wandered back to her. The confirmation of her breakup had shaken something loose in him, and now, it was all he could think about.

Between questions, Carlos nudged him again, his tone light but his gaze knowing. —Mate, you’ve got to stop overthinking it. If you want to talk to her, just do it.—

Lando shot him a look, his voice dropping to a whisper. —It’s not that simple.—

Carlos shrugged, clearly amused. —It’s always been that simple. You just like to make it complicated.—

Lando didn’t respond, though he couldn’t argue. It wasn’t like he could just message her out of the blue, not after everything. What would he even say? Hey, saw you’re single again. Fancy a chat? It sounded ridiculous even in his head.

Now, sitting there in the media room, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe he could finally say all the things he’d been too scared to say before. But then, there was that other voice in his head, the one that reminded him of how badly things had ended between them. The arguments. The silence.

Lando shook his head, trying to snap himself out of it. He needed to focus on the race, on his performance. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. He remembered the way she used to look at him, the way she laughed at his stupid jokes, the way she made him feel like he could be more than just a driver, more than the guy everyone expected him to be.

And now, she was single again.

The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He didn’t know if he was ready for this, if he was ready to face her again. But a part of him wanted to try. Wanted to see if there was still something there, something worth fighting for.

As the media session wrapped up, Lando stood, stretching his arms over his head. Carlos clapped him on the back, grinning. —You’ll figure it out, mate. Just don’t fuck it up this time.—

Lando laughed, though it felt hollow. —Thanks for the vote of confidence.—

Carlos smirked, already walking away. —You’ll need it.—

Lando lingered in the room for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets as he stared at the floor. He could hear the bustle of the paddock outside, the hum of engines and the chatter of fans. Normally, it was the kind of atmosphere that energized him, but today, it felt different. He felt... restless.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over her contact. Her name stared back at him, a name he hadn’t seen on his screen in months. He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. What would he even say? Would she even want to hear from him?

He locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket, letting out a frustrated sigh. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not yet.

Instead, he walked out into the paddock, the sunlight hitting his face as he took a deep breath. He needed to clear his head, to focus on the race weekend. But as he made his way back to the McLaren garage, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The hope. The fear. The possibility.

Maybe we’re not meant to be, he thought again, but this time, it didn’t feel so convincing.

Maybe we are.

[rxzennia]

thrice shall the bell toll

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 expands on 2.2 leaks, dark content towards the end, character death (everyone dies), heavy angst(?), not proofread. totally did not die a little inside when i wrote this, no. thank you all for 100+ followers! gold and gears, achievement grinding are driving me nuts and seeing everyone else get him makes me want to quit the game altogether. perhaps it’s time i focus more on other things. 

“never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

the musicians begin to play with rigor as the symphony enters crescendo, building up to its climax as the orchestral music increases in intensity and irregularity. the choir sings, paving the way for the descent of an aeon, of justice; their harmony announcing the impending doom of the sinner, promising his demise, promising him eternal rest.

you arrive at the central plaza, just in time for the closing act.

you meet sunday’s eyes, the bastard head of the oak family, the mastermind conducting this cacophony of noises and disturbances. he has the gall to smirk, to flash you a smirk, as if he’s daring you to do anything.

“aventurine, ambassador of the interastral peace corporation.” sunday stalks around the man bound in shackles, like predator circling prey, hands behind his back as he looks down at him with contempt. “you are hereby found… guilty.”

the baton descends – with it, the melody dramatically tips over its climax into decrescendo. 

people often say that death has no place in a dream of prosperity and privilege. 

but when the distinction between dream and reality blurs as the very dimension crumbles, who’s to say that to die is to wake, and who’s to say that death is not still death?

in his last moments of consciousness, aventurine sees you reach for your scarf with an expression he had never seen before. acceptance, perhaps? or disappointment? regardless, you have still chosen to surprise him at his last moment. must you continue to exceed his expectations even at his execution? but both you and he know that it is already too late, and his final solace is that you are present to witness the final chapter of his story.

that he is not left behind again.

the golden hands come full circle, palms closing as the strings lift their bows in unison, leaving only the winds to continue playing. the conductor drops their baton as the inevitable quickly encroaches upon the center stage, as the music ceases until only a sole trumpet remains sounding –

he closes his eyes with a last smile for you; aventurine has finally won, at the cost of losing everything.

once shall the bell toll, for the blessed prisoner condemned to a life of deceit and insincerity.

in a split second, the sky darkens; what used to be perpetually golden and bright has been eclipsed without a trace. the artificial sun goes out, street lamps are extinguished, a veil of darkness envelops the golden hour. what was once paradise becomes the abyss, and lament stands where joy once stood. 

your scarf flutters to the ground as you give it a strong tug, undoing its loops around your neck as you let it fall. you are half-expecting a gasp followed by a waterfall of words, but it never comes.

because there is no source. aventurine isn’t here anymore. 

there’s no more of your boss staring at you with the most awestruck expression as you reveal your face anymore. there’s no more of your boss’s endless pestering anymore.

there’s no more of aventurine opening up to you, getting you to open up, or him tentatively trusting you with fragments of his past anymore.

for the first time, you experience anger. a wrath so intense that it is enough to set even the heavens alight.

it’s about time someone ripped up this disgusting dream woven with fabric made of lies. this facade of extravagant luxury built upon a decaying foundation and the desperation of the masses’ escapism, a nightmare delicately packaged into fantasy that had stripped countless people of their ambitions and futures, it’s about time someone demolished it all.

the dreamchasers who voluntarily surrendered their realities for a temporary escape, the family members who could only obey, the heads of families who put together a ploy like this, and the harmonious strings who composed such a chaotic melody…

none of them matter. 

all that matters is that aventurine is executed, publicly, in utmost humiliation.

your scarf disintegrates into tiny specks of dust. brilliantly platinum scales extend from your fingertips to your jaw, threatening to stretch along your face, too. as if answering your call, serpents emerge from all corners of your shadow, slithering off towards all directions as they respond to your will.

in the sky that is pitch black, even darker shadows rear their heads; they fly, circle around the plane of the masterfully crafted illusion, around penacony itself. they await your orders, they await your next command. 

“eat up, my darlings.”

twice shall the bell toll, for the manufactured illusion of utopia drowning in the afterglow of opulence.

there is a reason why oroboros the voracity has kept to themselves in an unseen corner of the universe – they are not titled the unsatisfied devourer without reason.

with each corner you take for your own sustenance, you feel the universe tilt. the scales are tipping, the balance is tipping. with each piece of reality you consume, the boundary between subconscious and conscious blurs, falsehoods bleed into truth, and you feast upon them all the same.

in your rage, you are not merely tearing lives and environments apart. you are tearing religions apart, tearing peoples apart. worshippers and monuments of xipe the harmony, their symbols and their emanators, the hard-built resort destination called the dreamscape, and the plainly unremarkable penacony in reality, you are tearing it all apart.

you know you have upset the balance, and you know the consequences. you can hear the crystalline chime of the arbiter’s footsteps approaching you, you can almost see the blinding white light of the operating theater.

as the planet of festivities begin to fall out of orbit, so too do the serpents begin to decompose into glittering ashes. 

people scream as gravity somersaults, some swallowed by the caving ground, some swallowed by the gaping maws of the faceless serpents, and some dying by the hand of their kin as they struggle for survival.

you watch impassively as mortals scramble to prolong their lives, and you watch impassively as your serpents are lost, one by one, to the hands of an aeon.

if the mere handwave of an arrogant upholder of justice and a simple declaration are justification enough for an execution, for what reason should you not return the gesture?

if people would simply watch as someone is served the death penalty, what reason do you have to act as they become feed one after another?

and what reason do you have to cling onto mortal sentiments, now that your anchor to mortality is gone?

the man they killed is aventurine. your sometimes-too-annoying boss that you would not trade for anything in the world. your anchor; your dear, dear friend.

you see no reason to rein in your instincts anymore. the primal urge to consume overwhelms you, and all you want to do is to devour, devour, until there is nothing left.

voracity. oroboros’s will.

eat up while you still can, fill your metaphorical stomach with the blood of implicit killers, and tear into the flesh of the perpetrators of this grave transgression.

make them pay. before your judgement rains upon you, before the trumpeters herald your doom, before the star radiating false light meets its end in a supernova, make them pay.

their surgery is swift and painless – precise incision; two, three motions of the scalpel; complete excision.

at long last, the curtains fall. theatrics reach its conclusion, and when you look – there is no one left in the audience. 

thrice shall the bell toll, for the leviathan whose fury burned brighter than the ordinance of equilibrium.

[koyagifs]

𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: jongho x f!reader au: 9th member | best friends to lovers | pre! poly | genre: fluff | word count: 2.2 k synopsis: how jongho entered the poly relationship with you and the others warning(s): takes place during halazia era

Jongho panicked when he realized he was starting to develop feelings for you. It caught him completely off guard—he never expected to fall for anyone in this way, especially when he’d always envisioned relationships as something exclusive, just between him and one other person. But everything shifted when he noticed Yeosang getting more affectionate with you—cuddling close, resting his head on your shoulder—especially when Hongjoong and Wooyoung were around. That was when Jongho felt it: the twist of emotion he couldn’t quite name, a mix of jealousy, confusion, and something dangerously close to longing.

So, he started pulling away.

Not in big ways—Jongho wasn’t cruel like that—but he started avoiding those moments when the others were around. He’d show up a little later to group hangs, claim he was tired or busy when he wasn’t, and avoid eye contact with the others whenever he sat a little too close to you.

But feelings don’t fade just because you want them to. And every time you looked at Jongho with that gentle, concerned expression—every time you asked, “Are you okay?” with that softness only meant for him—it chipped away at the wall he was trying to build around his heart.

And maybe… just maybe… he didn’t hate the idea of sharing you. Maybe what terrified him wasn’t the others, but the fact that his heart had already decided you were worth breaking every rule he thought he had.

You had just wrapped up promotions for Halazia, and the well-deserved break couldn’t have come soon enough. For the first time in months, your schedule was quiet, your phone wasn’t buzzing with rehearsals or interviews, and the sun outside actually felt warm on your skin instead of a blur through a van window.

Wearing a soft sundress that swayed gently with each step, you slung your bag over your shoulder and slid your favorite book inside—the one you'd been dying to read since it first came out but never had the time to touch. The pages still smelled new, the spine barely cracked, and just the thought of curling up somewhere peaceful with it made your heart flutter with anticipation.

The boys were scattered around the shared house, doing their own version of unwinding—Hongjoong was sketching in the corner of the living room, Wooyoung was trying (and failing) to convince Yeosang to join him in a dance challenge, and somewhere in the kitchen, Jongho lingered quietly, pretending not to glance your way every time you passed by.

You hummed softly under your breath, the melody light and aimless as your bare feet padded across the floor. The atmosphere was peaceful, golden sunlight pouring through the windows and casting lazy shadows across the wooden floors.

As you passed each of them, you paused to place a gentle kiss on their lips—starting with Hongjoong, who smiled into it before returning to his sketchbook. Wooyoung caught you by the waist and kissed you back a little longer than necessary, smirking when you swatted at his chest. Mingi tilted his head up with that sleepy grin of his, always eager for affection, and San—ever dramatic—sighed like he was being blessed by the heavens. Yeosang didn’t say a word, but the way his fingers lightly brushed your wrist as you pulled away made your chest warm.

You offered soft cheek kisses to the rest—Yunho, who ruffled your hair in return; Jongho, who froze for just a second too long before mumbling a flustered thank you.

Seonghwa smiled, soft and familiar, before gently patting your head. His hand lingered just a second before sliding down to your wrist, fingers curling around it delicately.

"Where you off to?" he asked, his voice as smooth as ever, laced with that quiet warmth he never had to force.

The smile that bloomed on your face in response was radiant—so effortlessly you that it made every heart in the room stumble a beat. Even Jongho, who’d been watching from the kitchen, couldn’t help the way his throat tightened.

"Oh," you said with a cheerful lilt, "I’m heading to the park. I figured since the weather’s so nice and we’re all on break, it’d be the perfect time to finally catch up on some reading."

You held up your bag slightly, the book poking out just enough for Seonghwa to spot the title. His eyes flicked to it, then back to your face, his thumb brushing your wrist absentmindedly. You didn’t notice the small crowd of attention you’d gathered—how Hongjoong had set his pencil down, how Wooyoung had tilted his head with a faint smirk, or how Jongho, frozen in place, had stopped pretending to rinse his mug altogether.

"You going alone?" Seonghwa asked, the question casual—but something in his eyes said he was trying to read between your words.

Before you could answer, Jongho’s voice, steady but a little too fast, cut in from behind you.

"I could go with you. If you want company."

The twinkle in your eyes when you turned to him made Jongho’s heart lurch in his chest. He had no chance of hiding it—not the soft curve of his lips, not the way his ears flushed slightly pink, or the way his grip on the kitchen towel tightened just a bit. You looked so genuinely happy, so effortlessly warm, that it made it impossible for him to keep up the distance he’d been trying to maintain.

You nodded eagerly, the sunlight catching the edge of your smile.

“I’d love for you to join, baby bear!” you said, your voice bright, laced with that affection only you could pull off so naturally. “We’ve barely spent any time together lately.”

The nickname—your nickname for him—sent a quiet ripple through the room. Wooyoung arched a brow, clearly fighting a grin. Yeosang's gaze lingered on Jongho with a knowing tilt to his head. Even Seonghwa, still gently holding your wrist, glanced between the two of you before letting go, a soft chuckle under his breath.

Jongho cleared his throat, trying not to look too proud of himself.

“Alright,” he said, reaching for his hoodie draped over the back of a chair. “Lead the way, then.”

As you walked toward the door, Jongho fell into step beside you—just close enough that your arms brushed now and then. And though he didn’t say much, the faint smile on his lips never quite left.

" i bet you 5,000 won that they'll come back being together,"

Jongho couldn’t help it—his eyes had been on you the entire time.

You lay sprawled out on the blanket you'd carefully spread over the soft grass, the sun casting golden rays across your skin, making you look almost ethereal. Your sundress fluttered slightly in the breeze, and your hair caught the light in a way that made it impossible not to stare. The book you’d been so excited to read now rested on your face, covering your eyes, though your lips curved into a faint, relaxed smile.

You were at peace.

And Jongho? He was a mess.

He sat beside you, arms looped around his knees as he tried to convince himself he was just enjoying the quiet, the weather, the break—but his gaze kept drifting back to you. Again and again. The way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your fingers absentmindedly brushed at a blade of grass near your side. Everything about you made his heart ache in a way he wasn’t used to.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He’d told himself he’d just tag along, make up for lost time, be a good partner. But now, watching you under the sunlight, looking so breathtakingly yours, he wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending that his heart wasn’t fully in this—that he hadn’t already fallen.

And then, as if sensing him, you peeked from beneath the book, blinking up at him with a sleepy little smile.

“Are you staring, baby bear?” you asked playfully.

Jongho froze, caught red-handed, and cleared his throat.

“…Maybe.”

You hummed softly, stretching a little as you sat up, your hands brushing back your hair before placing the book beside you on the blanket. The warmth of the sun clung to your skin, and your dress shifted with your movements, the breeze tugging at the edges. You turned your gaze toward Jongho, head tilted, a knowing look playing on your lips.

Jongho looked like he was trying to play it cool—arms still around his knees, eyes now focused very intently on a distant tree. But you could see the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers fidgeted slightly against his wrist.

"You okay?" you asked gently, voice laced with that concern only you could make feel so intimate. "You’ve been quiet."

He finally looked at you.

And for a second, everything fell away—the group, the pressure, the unspoken rules he’d written for himself. It was just you, with sunlight in your eyes and that soft, inviting smile he could never seem to get out of his head.

Jongho exhaled slowly, then spoke.

“I didn’t think I’d feel this way,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “About you. About… all of this.”

You blinked, but you didn’t interrupt.

“I thought I could keep some kind of distance,” he continued, eyes locking onto yours now, full of something vulnerable and real. “But I can’t. You’ve always made things feel safe—and now it just feels like… I don’t want to miss out on any of it.”

His gaze dropped for a moment, like he was scared to see your reaction. “Even if it means sharing. Even if I’m still figuring it all out. I just… I want you.”

Your breath hitched, heart skipping once, maybe twice.

And for once, Jongho didn’t look away.

He reached for your hand, gently taking it into his own and lacing your fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. His grip was warm and a little hesitant, like he still couldn’t believe you were letting him hold you like this. But when your thumb brushed against his knuckles, he held on tighter.

His eyes searched yours—quiet, steady, unshaking now.

“I know it’s been a while since one of us actually said it,” he began, his voice soft but weighted with meaning. “But I think… it’s because we’re scared. Scared to confirm what we feel. Because once we say it out loud, it’s real. And real means it can change things.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers still locked with his, your heart pounding against your ribs like it wanted to answer for you.

He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “But I don’t want to be scared anymore. Not when it comes to you.”

Jongho leaned in just a little, forehead almost brushing yours, eyes flicking to your lips for a brief second before returning to your gaze.

“So… I’ll go first,” he whispered. “I like you. A lot more than I planned to. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”

He spoke the words softly, but they landed with the weight of something real.

“You make me feel at peace, like… home. It’s something I’ve missed since we debuted. I used to miss home,” Jongho paused, his thumb grazing over your knuckles with delicate affection, “but then I realized… home is you.”

And just like that, your heart was racing.

The confession didn’t come with grand gestures or dramatic declarations—it came in Jongho’s quiet steadiness, his sincere eyes, his hand wrapped in yours like it belonged there.

You felt your breath catch in your throat, eyes stinging just slightly from the rush of emotion his words pulled from deep within you. For a long time, you’d been surrounded by love, warmth, and safety with all of them… but Jongho’s words hit a part of your heart that had been waiting—aching—to hear this from him.

Your free hand reached up, brushing his cheek with your fingertips, and he leaned into the touch without hesitation.

“I think I’ve always been waiting to hear that from you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with everything you couldn’t quite say out loud. “And now that I have… I don’t want to let go of it.”

Jongho leaned forward, gently bumping his forehead against yours, his smile soft and full of emotion.

“Then don’t,” he murmured. “Stay. Be my home too.”

You smiled, eyes soft with something deeper than words, and gave a quiet nod.

And then—like gravity finally gave in—you both leaned in, slow and steady, as if the moment itself was holding its breath.

When your lips met, the world seemed to slow.

Everything else—the distant sound of birds, the wind rustling the trees, even the warmth of the sun—faded into something muted and distant. All you could feel was him. The way his lips moved against yours, unsure at first, then surer, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

Jongho’s hand slipped around your waist, drawing you closer, the other still holding yours like he couldn’t bear to let go. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, reverent, filled with years of held-back glances, of quiet what-ifs, of growing affection that finally had a voice.

When you finally pulled back, your noses brushed, and Jongho let out the smallest, breathless laugh—like he couldn’t believe it actually happened.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, still close enough for his breath to tickle your lips.

You smiled, your forehead pressing lightly against his. “Me too.”

For a moment, you both sat there in the quiet warmth of each other, the book forgotten beside you, the park wide and endless—but it didn’t matter.

Because right now, your world had narrowed down to one thing: him.

[junrenjun]

Burn

omega!minghao x beta!reader x alpha!mingyu (part of my understand series)

genre: fluff, smut (18+ please!), angst for 2.2 seconds

wc: 3.2k

warnings: fem reader, smut and suggestive material throughout, unprotected sex (have safe sex plz), threesome lol, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, very heavy member x member in this (don't like, don't read)

summary: minghao is finally ready to let y/n help with his heat.

a/n: this is basically porn with plot lol. @straykidsstanforeverandever requested this so enjoy :) also minghao will get his own standalone fic eventually. this is not his only feature in this series. oh and mingyu is a consent king ofc.

Minghao is antsy. That’s the best way he can put it. Preheat is, in his opinion, the worst part of his heat. There’s a constant nagging feeling that he gets. Like bugs under his skin. Or like someone is watching him but he can’t see them. Unsettling and it never goes away. It drives him batty every time.

Right now, he thinks, it’s driving Mingyu batty more than himself. The man in question is sitting on Jihoon’s bed, watching as Minghao paces around his nest once more. He tries his best to ignore the quizzical looks the alpha keeps sending his way, but to no avail. Eventually, he exasperatedly turns to him, hands on his hips, and asks, “what do you want?”

Mingyu has been the omega’s heat partner for far too long to even flinch at his tone. Instead, he sits further up in the bed and cocks his head at the man. “Are you sure it’s just preheat? You look stressed.”

He melts at the alpha’s soft tone, instincts dying down a bit when he realizes he doesn’t need to put up a fight. “I don’t know, Gyu. My brain keeps telling me that something is missing from my nest, but I can’t figure out what. I’m not sure if something is actually missing or I’m just paranoid.”

At these words, Mingyu gestures for the omega to come join him by the other bed and he does so, stopping to stand between his legs. The alpha runs his hands up Minghao’s legs and side, then intertwines their fingers. He looks up at his mate and says quietly, “are you sure it’s something and not someone?”

Minghao closes his eyes and lets his mind wander. He and Mingyu have talked about this already. Inviting you in to help with his heat. He wants it. He really does. But some little voice in the back of his brain screams at him, warning him that it’s not a good idea.

It’s stupid. He knows you aren’t a threat and would never do something to hurt him. But an omega’s self preservation instinct, especially while in heat, is quite strong. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been an official member of the pack, his brain is flashing warning signs at him and screaming “stranger.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s trembling until Mingyu’s hands wrap around his waist to steady him. His eyes flutter back open to look at the alpha beneath him, who whispers, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to Hao.”

The omega simply hums in response, raising a hand to brush a strand of hair out of Mingyu’s face. This time, it’s the alpha who closes his eyes. He leans into the touch as Minghao drags the hand down his face. 

A low rumble leaves Mingyu’s chest. He looks up when he hears the omega let out a small gasp. Minghao has his head thrown back and his chest is heaving a little bit. The alpha smirks a little bit at his reaction. 

“Don’t do that”, Minghao says breathlessly. “You’re going to make it come faster.”

He regretted the words the second they came out of his mouth. When he looks down, Mingyu’s smirk is miles wide. “I know a thing or two about making things come fast.”

The alpha receives a well-deserved slap on the arm. But it doesn’t stop him from scooping Minghao up before he has a chance to berate him for his lewd words. “C’mon omega”, he tells him, “let’s find y/n while you still have brain cells left.” The omega in question lets out a muffled, “hey,” from where his mouth is pressed up against Mingyu’s shoulder.

Minutes later, Mingyu deposits him in a lump on your bed. You raise an eyebrow at him, but don’t get a chance to ask any questions, because Minghao practically tackles you. Once sufficiently on top of you, he shoves his face into your neck, nose against your scent gland, and takes a giant whiff. Within seconds, he’s melting against you and you’re left with an omega shaped blob weighing you down.

You reach down to touch the back of your hand to his forehead, frowning when you feel that he’s starting to heat up already. “You feeling it already, Hao?” you ask him.

He doesn’t directly respond to your question, pulling back for a second and then shoving his nose even further into your gland. His comment is stifled a bit from your skin, but you can still make out the words. “I swear they put crack in your pheromones or something.”

Both you and Mingyu laugh at this. However, you abruptly stop when Minghao raises his head to look at you with tears in his eyes. “Why are you guys laughing at me?” he pouts.

You’re quick to calm him down, extending a hand to brush away a stray tear. “Oh honey. We’re sorry. Preheat emotions suck don’t they?” He sniffles but still nods at you. 

After he takes a minute to compose himself, you speak again. “Why don’t you ask Mingyu to bring you back to your nest, hm?”

All of a sudden, the omega looks panicked, glancing back at the man sitting at the foot of the bed. You’re not sure what you did wrong, but Mingyu speaks, cutting off your train of thought. “I think Hao wants to ask you something first.”

Minghao looks up at you sheepishly, toying with the sleeve of your shirt absentmindedly. After a long pause, he looks up at you from under his eyelashes and says, “will you help with my heat?”

The question renders you speechless for a moment. You’ve been told Minghao is a bit…picky about who he spends his heat with. You know he and Mingyu have been heat partners for years now, and barely anyone else helps now that they have a system down. Only when Mingyu starts to get exhausted does Jun take over. Most of the time, he doesn’t let anyone other than the two alphas and Jeonghan get near his nest in the throes of heat. 

A part of you is silently cheering. Minghao’s instincts are finally accepting you as a true pack member if he trusts you in his most vulnerable moments. But another part of you is terrified. You really can’t mess this up. 

He must pick up on your apprehension through your scent, because in seconds, he’s throwing himself off you and into Mingyu’s lap. The alpha looks up at you apologetically as Minghao sobs into his shoulder. “She hasn’t even said anything yet, give her a second,” he tells the omega.

The scene is enough to convince you to say yes. You let your scent even out for a minute before reaching out to brush your hand lightly over Minghao’s ankle. Once his sobs die down a bit, you say, “I’ll help you Hao. I’ll be there as long as you need me.”

His scent takes such an abrupt turn it almost burns. You may need to apply some scent neutralizing lotion beneath your nose if this is how strong it’s going to be the whole time. You don’t have enough time to think about that though, because he’s grabbing your arm and pulling you out of bed, with a soft mutter of “nest.”

He drags you to his room, Mingyu trailing not far behind you both. Once inside, he points to his bed and repeats “nest.” You follow the omega’s instructions and climb into the center of the nest. Then, he turns to Mingyu and tells him the same thing. After both of you are comfortably sat in the nest, he fusses over the sides, effectively tucking you in. 

Once he’s satisfied with his work, Minghao crawls into the empty space between you two. A soft keen leaves his mouth and Mingyu chuckles. “Nest is complete now?” he asks. The omega is too busy releasing happy pheromones to respond. 

The comfort of his nest, combined with the exhaustion of preheat must finally take ahold of him. Fifteen minutes later, he’s sleeping soundly, his face tucked into your shoulder. Mingyu’s arms are tucked around his waist, and the alpha peeks over him to look at you. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, y/n,” he whispers.

You offer him a small smile back, trying to not disturb the sleeping omega beneath you. “I know. I want to though,” you tell him. 

You wake up in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely peeking through the window. While you aren’t really a morning person, a heat-ridden Minghao clearly is. His heat has come in full force over the course of the night, if the way he’s rutting against your thigh is any sign. 

When you look up at him, his eyes are squeezed shut and there’s a sheen of sweat covering his face. And the smell. God the smell. His usual lily scent is heavy, almost sticky in the air. It has a fruiter tinge to it though, something you can’t quite place.

A low moan startles you out of your thoughts. Minghao’s eyes have fluttered open and his mouth hangs open, panting. Without a word, you jut your leg out even farther, giving him a bigger surface to grind on. 

It clearly helps, because his eyes roll to the back of his head again as his hips move faster. Then, without warning, he leans down and shoves his face into your scent gland. Immediately, he starts sucking at it, leaving you breathless. The more his pace increases on your leg, the harder he sucks. His teeth scrape at your sensitive gland and you release a sharp gasp.

The commotion must wake Mingyu, because he shuffles around on the other side of the bed. He glances over at you two and runs a finger down Minghao’s spine. With that morning voice you love so much, he tells him, “easy on her Myungho. She’s not used to you yet.”

His words and actions have the omega shivering and pulling back. Your gland pulses uncomfortably at the lack of attention. You ignore it though, electing to reach around and pull lightly at the hair on the back of his neck. He whines. “Yeah?” you ask him teasingly. 

Mingyu chuckles from across the bed. You took that one out of his book. He leans down and whispers into Minghao’s ear. “You gonna come for our beta?” 

The omega nods furiously and he takes it as a sign to continue. “Yeah? Feel good spreading your slick all over her thigh? Tell her how good she’s making you feel.”

You can feel the wet patch slowly spreading across your pants. Something deep inside you twists at this, making you itch for your own release. It twists even further when he slurs, “so good. Making me feel so good beta.” 

You tug a little more on the strands of hair tucked in your hand and it’s the last straw for Minghao. His orgasm comes washing over him and he buries his face in your neck once more. The wetness on your leg increases exponentially and he makes a mess of it as his grinding begins to slow down. 

You flinch a little bit when he murmurs into your gland, the vibrations tickling your sensitive skin. “I’m gross now,” he says.

Mingyu wraps his arms around the omega’s waist, kissing the back of his head where your hand just untangled from his hair. “Mm a little bit. Nothing a bath can’t fix right?” he asks. 

A contented sigh leaves the man in your arms. You give him a little peck of your own, right on his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up honey,” you mumble, prompting him to sit up. 

Once he’s successfully out of bed, Mingyu leads him to the bathroom, leaving you to change and collect some supplies for the day ahead of you. After a quick pit stop at your room, you head to the kitchen. As you refill some water bottles, you feel hands rest lightly on your waist and a nose tickle the back of your neck. “Hannie,” you acknowledge.

His nose presses even deeper into your skin. “You smell like Minghao,” he mumbles softly. “Is he in heat already?”

“Mhm,” you hum as he spins you around in his arms. Almost dropping the now full water bottle in your hands, you scowl at him a bit. “Don’t make me drop my omega’s water.”

He looks at you questioningly. “Your omega, huh?” He waits for you to respond, but all you do is nod. “You gonna take care of your omega’s heat for me? Make me a happy pack omega hm?” 

He’s such a little shit. But you’re too preoccupied with the fact that you just called Minghao your omega to even remotely care. That’s something to unpack later. Instead you screw the lid back on the bottle and grab the snacks you’ve prepared. “Yes Hannie,” you utter, and dart out of his arms, back to Minghao’s room.

Jeonghan watches you go and a familiar chuckle rings in his ears. When he turns, Seungcheol is standing there, clearly amused with the conversation that was just had. Jeonghan rolls his eyes at him. “You,” he says, pressing his index finger into the alpha’s chest, “are where she gets the possessiveness from.” 

They think they’re being sneaky, but you can still hear them from down the hall. And looking back at your past experiences with Seunghceol, you come to realize that he probably is where your possessive streak is coming from. And the fact that you’ve spent the last few hours with an omega in heat, but that’s not important. 

When you return to the room, the pair is curled up in the nest. Minghao seems slightly relieved. Less desperate and eager to simply relax. Mingyu is snoozing next to him. You deposit your supplies on the nightstand and crawl in to join them. 

Minghao immediately curls himself into your side. “Was thinking about you my entire bath,” he whispers, thumb stroking the skin that’s visible where your shirt had ridden up. You raise your hand to test his temperature again. When it makes contact with his forehead, he twists to lightly kiss the gland on your wrist. “Wanna make you feel good,” he breathes out.

The statement kind of surprises you. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one being taken care of right now?” you ask him, eyebrow quirked. 

“Letting me eat your pussy is taking care of me.” You nearly gape at him when he says this. Such dirty words and for Xu Minghao of all people to say them? You might combust right here and now. 

And combust you do, because minutes later, he’s got his face shoved between your legs and is eating you like his last meal. Your moans have awakened Mingyu, who, at first, elected to watch. But after a little whining from the omega, he’s mounted Minghao from behind. 

You’re embarrassingly close within the first few minutes. There’s so much going on. The sound of skin against skin. Mingyu’s breathy groans. Minghao’s tongue teasing you softly. The feeling of his hair in your hand. All three of your scents blending beautifully in the air. But the kicker is when Mingyu gives a particularly hard thrust, causing Minghao to lightly scrape his teeth along your clit. 

Your nerves feel like they are on fire. Your eyes roll back as your thighs tighten around the omega’s head, who whimpers in response. He grabs your hand and strokes it softly, coaxing you down from your high. When you finally come to, Mingyu is singing his praises to Minghao. “...a good omega, making our beta come like that. I think you deserve a reward for that. How about a knot, hm?”

The mere mention of a knot seems like it kicks Minghao into overdrive. “Please, please, please alpha! Wanna knot so bad!” He pushes his hips back furiously, like it’s going to make MIngyu’s knot pop any faster. It doesn’t, but it at least satisfies him for a moment. 

In the meantime, you reach over to grab a towel from the nightstand, bringing it down to wipe off his face. He whines, something about losing your scent, but still mumbles out a, “thank you.” 

Mingyu picks up his pace, a clear sign that he’s going to knot soon. The second his base swells enough to catch on Minghao’s opening, the omega is keening. He reaches out to grab onto your thigh, then sinks his teeth right into the soft skin. You gasp, not prepared for the sudden bite. His orgasm washes over him hard and it seems Mingyu’s does too. 

After a minute of heavy breathing, he releases his jaws and lets go of your thigh, looking up at you sheepishly. Mingyu, who still has his head thrown back, his chest heaving up and down, mutters, “sorry, I should’ve warned you that he’s a biter.”

“It’s okay,” you respond. “It felt good, it just surprised me that’s all.” You reach down to pet Minghao’s hair a bit more, giving him a little bit more comfort. 

“...’m full,” is all the omega can manage to get out. 

The alpha reaches down to run a hand along his back. “Yeah, alpha made you nice and full. Let’s get you into a more comfortable position, okay?” he coos at him.

You shift closer to the outside of the bed so that he can pull himself and the omega down into a seated position next to you. Mingyu leans against the headboard, pulling Minghao down so his back presses against his chest. The omega whines a bit at the shifting, knot tugging uncomfortably at his entrance the more they move. 

You give them both their own water bottles and offer a snack. Mingyu takes the protein bar quickly, but it takes a little coaxing (and hand feeding) to get Minghao to eat anything. 

After a few minutes of blissful silence, the omega murmurs, “you feel bigger today Gyu. I don’t think your knot has gone down at all yet.” 

The alpha grunts in response and shifts uncomfortably, making Minghao squirm. “Yeah well I’m tied to an omega in heat and I’ve got a really hot beta sitting naked in bed next to me. Can’t help it if I’m a little excited.” 

You can’t help but preen a little bit at his statement. You. The hot beta is you. But you’re quickly distracted by Minghao, who moans when Mingyu shifts again. The alpha peers down and sees that Minghao’s cock is getting hard again. “We’re still tied together baby,” he tells him. “I can’t do anything for you right now, but maybe if you ask your beta nicely, she’ll ride you while I’m still inside you.”  The omega’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the lewd thought and he moans loudly. “Please beta?” he asks, opening his eyes again just to flash the most pitiful look ever at you. It’s going to be a long few days for you three.

[ghostoffuturespast]

Saturday Snippets + WIP Whenever

Tagged by @slayerdurge and @wanderingaldecaldo! Thank you both 🧡!

VP

I've been very leisurely doing my 2.2 CP2077 VP run, and have been having a lot of fun experimenting with the spotlights and being able to turn off the collision physics. My portrait photography game has definitely stepped up having access to spotlights.

With the ability to spawn some of the NPCs in vanilla photomode now too, my current photo project has been taking chapter fics for So It Goes, which had been something of a pipe dream until the 2.2 update. Been having fun getting creative with my staging and what's feasible given the tools I have on console. I haven't posted most of those pics on tumblr yet but they're very slowly getting added to ao3. (Also, why can we spawn Us Cracks in but not Misty?! Who made that decision?!?)

Writing

I have very little to show in actual writing at the moment largely because I've been working on final polish edits and fixes for So It Goes as well as outlining for Part 2 Electric Boogaloo (the follow up to So It Goes). Neither of which is going particularly fast due to IRL, but I'm mega excited about the outlining I've gotten done so far. It is going swimmingly. (Especially after I got rid of the thing that I kept trying to include but didn't actually fit. I should have known. My subconscious knows even if it doesn't always fill me in on things...)

Without diving too deep into spoilers, I'm incredibly pleased that I got the whole Mr. Blue Eyes conspiracy theories, Phantom Liberty, and the Biotechnica/Project Nightingale side gigs to all work together. Like seamlessly. Fucking love it when the A, B, and C plots just gel and are able to play off of each other. This is the puzzling that I live for! Going slightly off the rails reworking some of the main plot beats from the game, but the spirit of everything is still there. River's got a much larger presence in the story this time around, Grandpa's pulling no punches, I have lots of strange off the cuff surprises planned, and, bonus, no one has to wait 30 chapters for the smut.

This little snippet from an undisclosed side project is all I've got right now:

The curtains fluttered in the breeze, soft white filtering in through the windows and cutting panels across the floor. Dust motes waltzed a lazy dance in the afternoon light. The scent of fresh greenery mingled with the antique of old crafted wood, a perfume of verdant secco filling the room. Insects sang outside the walls, a trillion different symphonies distilling into a single chorus. In the era marked by disaster after climatic disaster, for once, it was the perfect spring day, the mercury hovering at sheer pleasant.

Art

And a snake doodle that I've been procrastinating on transferring to better paper to paint. Lycodon rufozonatus coiled up in the shape of a maedeup (매듭) - Korean decorative knot.

Tagging, with no pressure, to share any creative projects you've been working on! Fandom related or not. @shimmer-like-agirl @baublekute @streetkid-named-desire @techrotting @elmknight @iamtheoutsideworld @mynonsenseistingling

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Sunday Affection hc's

I have now played 2.2, no spoilers though

If you're the kind of person that really likes spontaneity, Sunday probably isn't the person for you...

He's got about five itineraries going at once

What meals are being prepared, the clothing you'll wear through the week, exactly what days chores need to be done on, all on top of his meetings and other droning work

So, pretty much all dates and outings are preplanned down to the most insignificant details, ensuring everything runs perfectly

Sunday needs control of his environment

Any little hitch could be a potential threat to your safety!

Chances are, most of the outings and time spent together outside of your shared home, is done in the dreamscape, where he has complete control

Lovely little picnics with the most exquisite view of the beautiful dreamscape sky, or any view you want really, will be off limits to everyone else (except maybe a few trusted dreamweavers, in order to ensure nothing happens)

He's an anxious mess, though he hides it well, every time anyone else approaches you for any reason, his arm around you always, pulling you right into him so he's prepared

That being said, he does truly enjoy going out with you

Walking around the dreamscape, holding your hand or linking arms as he watches all of your perfect reactions with a soft smile, tightening his hold a little when he worries you might run off...

His eyes rarely leave your face in those moments, as if trying to memorize every little micro expression

"I'm merely curious on what you find most pleasing. We're always looking for guest feedback, love." He'll tell you with a reassuring little quirk of his lips, as if his eyes don't soften every time you smile

He's partly true to his word, taking mental notes of everything you like to implement it further, and maybe even make a particular little slice of the dreamscape all for you

One where you can live happily forever, with every little thing you could ever want... It consumes his mind most waking hours

Affection wise he's always very reserved in public, and even embarrassed easily in private at the beginning

That fades soon enough, with him happily taking every opportunity to remind you how much he loves your sweet smile

He unconsciously covers the two of you kissing with his wings, as if creating a little shield, even in private

His wings in particular are known to show his emotions far more than his practiced expressions, twitching and fluttering and even flapping right in front of his face when surprised

When annoyed they'll fluff a little, and when really angry they look as sharp as blades

In public he usually kisses your hand, looking up into your eyes while doing so in a way that feels far too intimate

A lot of his public acts are subtle, adopting your walking pace, keeping a close eyes on your heart rate, gently guiding you when you stray a bit, glaring at anyone who gets too close

He'll probably always default to big spoon, to holding you and comforting you and dote on you

He just wants your happiness, your satisfaction, your safety...

Everything he does is for you

During the beginning of your relationship, he tenses at every little unexpected noise

Being the partner of a powerful figure can be dangerous!

It's not his fault he lays awake at night, watching your breath with unblinking eyes, grappling with these horribly overwhelming feeling of desperation

You need to be safe. You need to be safe.

He's not particularly fond of having his eyes off of you, but the eyes of trusted bodyguards will have to suffice for when he has no choice...

This is especially true with the fear of "death" in the dreamscape at it's peak... You won't spend a single second out of his sight, if he lets you enter the dreamscape at all

The strong should protect the weak, it's his responsible to protect you, in every way possible, no matter what, forever...

He loves you, an overwhelming amount, a truly heartbreakingly tragic amount

No matter what, he hopes you'll love him too