#-and i don't know how i could ever forget a face like that if i had seen it before in person

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 12

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose. Also Discussion of toxic media/fandom/death threats.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando sat on the couch, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. Lizzie, curled up next to him with Mara at her feet, noticed his thumb hovering over the screen, hesitating. She nudged him with her knee.

"Alright, what is it? Did Max send you another cursed meme?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. There was something going on. Something that he hadn't told her yet. 

She had learned to read Lando well enough to pick up on these kinds of unsaid cues. The way he looked, the way he smiled, his eyes just so crinkling at the corners...she knew exactly the titl of his head, the way the right corner of his mouth ticked up in a smile when he read something funny on his phone...She knew. 

And she treasured all these tiny details, hoarded them like a dragon did to it's gold. 

Lando huffed a small laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Worse."

Lizzie's eyebrows furrowed, concern creasing her forehead. That wasn't good.  "Worse? What's worse than Max Verstappen's questionable taste in humor?" she asked, trying to infuse some humour into the situation, but Lando didn't seem interested in that. 

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, you know how I sent that picture of Mara in her Ferrari bandana to Charles?"

Lizzie's face lit up as she nodded, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Yes, how could I forget? The cutest picture I've ever seen."

Her dog was the most adorable dog to ever grace this earth, thank you very much. (She was very much certain that every dog owner had thought that at one moment in time, but she was correct!) 

Lando chuckled and pulled her into his side. She breathed in the scent that was simply him, something fresh and warm and so utterly Lando...feeling his body warmth seep into her, through the thin shirt he was wearing. "Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that a thousand times," he teased. "But you’ll never guess what happened when Charles showed that picture to his girlfriend."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "What, did she think it was so cute it gave her a heart attack?" she joked. Not that she could fault Charles' girlfriend if that was indeed the case. 

"She recognized Mara," Lando said drily. That was not what Lizzie had expected. Actually that was the last thing she had expected.  "Alexandra Saint Mleux," Lando said, watching her reaction carefully. "is apparently a Lizzie Treshton superfan."

Lizzie’s eyes widened. "Wait, seriously?" she asked, a mix of shock and amusement coloring her voice. Really? "A F1 WAG read my books?"

"Not just her," Lando said, shaking his head. "All of them. And they’ve decided they need to meet you. Effective immediately."

Lizzie stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

"So what, they started plotting?" she teased.

"Plotting would be an understatement," Lando said, amused. "I have been forcefully added to the WAG council group chat, and they are demanding that I bring you to a race."

The mere idea of being in a group chat with the wives and girlfriends of Formula 1’s elite sounded like a scene straight out of a fanfiction, but apparently it was her real life now. 

"There’s a WAG council?" She asked, shocked besides herself. That sounded...actually, she had no idea what that sounded like. 

"Apparently."

"That’s amazing," Lizzie said, still giggling. 

Lando made a face. "It’s terrifying."

Lizzie bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "Demanding might be a strong word, though, right?"

"Oh, no," Lando corrected, his expression deadly serious. "There were threats, bribes, and full capital letters. Also, they all want signed copies of Seasons of Fate."

Lizzie let out a soft oh of understanding before shaking her head with a grin. "You know, I really didn’t think this was how our relationship was going to get outed," she said drily. Really. This was really not what she had had in mind. 

"Neither did I," Lando admitted. "But the WAGs are apparently above no tactics when it comes to getting their hands on signed books."

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, her curiosity only growing. "So, what exactly did they say?"

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls. "Well, for starters, Alex offered to ‘whore out her Ferrari golden boy boyfriend’ if it meant getting you to Silverstone."

Lizzie cackled. "She said that?"

"Verbatim," Lando confirmed, looking equal parts entertained and exhausted. "And apparently, Charles will sign whateveryou want if he doesn’t want to be murdered in his sleep."

She burst out in laughter at that. 

"Well, that sounds like... quite the deal," she said, trying desperately to stay serious. "I don’t know whether to be concerned or find it hilariously absurd."

Lando smirked, clearly amused by the situation. "It’s a lot of both," he assured her. "But they're not afraid to play dirty." He grew serious. "I wanted to talk to you before this all blows up. I know we haven’t exactly been hiding, but we also haven’t been, you know, public."

Lizzie sobered slightly, understanding what he was getting at. "You’re worried about what happens when people know."

He nodded. "It’s just… your life is already busy, and the last thing I want is for my world to make things harder for you. The fans, the media, the scrutiny—it’s a lot. And I don’t want you to feel pressured into dealing with that."

Her heart painfully constricted, her expression softened, because it was clear that Lando was worried about this. "I appreciate that," she said sincerely. "But, Lando… I’ve been dealing with fan and media attention for a while now. I thinkI can handle it."

Lando frowned slightly. "Yeah, but F1 media is different. It’s relentless. They’ll speculate about everything, dig through your old tweets, try to twist things. Hell, they’re probably going to turn Mara into some kind of meme."

Lizzie smirked. "I mean, she is an icon. It’s about time the world recognizes it."

Lando groaned. "Lizzie."

She laughed before squeezing his hand. "Look, I won’t pretend it won’t be overwhelming. But I do know that I don’t want to keep pretending we’re just… nothing."

"You know that they’ll be hounding your every move?" he warned her, his voice tinged with concern. "The fans can be ruthless, the media is relentless, and the tabloids—well, they make up their own storylines."

She nodded. "I won’t lie, I know it’s going to be overwhelming. I mean, I have seen what happens when the internet latches onto F1 relationships. But I also know I don’t want to pretend we’re just… nothing. You make me happy, and I don’t want to hide that."

Lando was silent for a moment, his eyes meeting Lizzie's. His thumb traced a gentle circle on the back of her hand as he seemed lost in thought.

“You make me happy too,” he told her, his voice soft. “But they’ll…they’re going to dissect every little thing. If you don’t come to a race, we’ll probably be at the brink of a break up. If you do come, they’ll write ridiculous headlines of you stealing the spotlights. They are going to speculate on how long we’ve been together, probably even come up with wild conspiracy theories..."

She could hear it in his voice, how much it stressed him...how uch even just the thought of people doing that to their relationship was hurting him. 

"Hey," she said softly. "I’m a bestselling fantasy author, Lando. People come up with wild conspiracy theories about my books on a daily basis. I can handle it."

Lando chuckled at that. "Fair point," he admitted, conceding her argument. The tension in his shoulders eased some. "I just…I want you to be sure,” Lando said hesitantly. “The Formula One fandom is another level when it comes to speculating about relationships. And some fans are bloody mental. I have literally received death threats, and I am not the only one. And the media? They are going to be relentless. They’ll ask questions about you at every race, they’ll bring up your epilepsy, they’ll try to spin things."

Lizzie knew that. She was very much aware of that. But Lizzie had lived with her epilepsy for nearly all her life. She already had heard every single horrible thing somebody could say about that. 

Now it would be more of the same. Simply on a bigger stage. 

Was it scary? Yes. 

Did she care? Not really. 

So Lizzie simply squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I know. I’m not naive. And I won’t pretend it doesn’t scare me a little. But I also know I don’t want to let fear dictate my life. We’re in this together, right?"

"Of course, we are."

Lizzie leaned in, resting her forehead against his. "Then let’s do it."

Lando grinned, all traces of his earlier tension disappearing. "You’re braver than me," he said, pulling her closer so he could kiss her forehead. "Are you sure you’re ready for this circus?"

A mischievous glint flashed in Lizzie's eyes. "Honey, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from writing about a war between magical races, it’s that I can handle whatever comes my way."

Lando chuckled, shaking his head at her audacity. "You’re something else, you know that?" he said warmly. 

"Yes," she said, grinning. "So, you’ll take me to Silverstone?"

"I was supposed to be the one inviting you, you know," Lando muttered, feigning exasperation.

Lizzie just smirked. "Too slow, Norris.  Let’s do it. If the WAGs want signed books, I might as well hand-deliver them."

Lando let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. But the moment we walk into the paddock together, the internet is going to explode."

Lizzie leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back with a knowing smile. "Then let’s give them a show, shall we?"

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ No Longer Strangers — Awakened Pure Vanilla x GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/comfort || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

A/N: This is a part two to this fic as an apology for the angst, hehehe

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

It had been troubling, being apart without Pure Vanilla. It felt like a very piece of your souljam had been torn out, leaving you a devestated mess in the meantime. While this "Recluse" took off, you tried to pick up the pieces he had left. Yet, to your surprise, you were now face to face with the same Cookie who had said those terrible things to you. His clothes had a white tinge rather than black, the blues completely gone. The eye of his staff now sported a brilliantly shining star, matching the mark on his forehead. His expression was deeply troubled as he spoke with you. "My dear, I-... I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am" he began softly, voice thick with guilt.

You shook off your surprise at his new form, fixing him with a glare. "You should be. Do you have any idea what it was like, having you talk to me like I was nothing? Hearing you treat me like a problem?". Pure Vanilla winced, his hands nervously rubbing the handle of his staff. "I.. wasn't myself. I was under Shadow Milk's control, and... I thought you'd be safer without me. In some way, I... thought I was helping". "Well you weren't" you replied firmly. Pure Vanilla frowned more, slowly stepping closer to you. He extended a nervous hand, and you noticed how it shook. Your expression softened, and with only a moment's hesitation, you allowed him to take your hand into his.

You watched with a suspicious gaze as Pure Vanilla guided your hand to his lips, gently pecking the back of it "Oh, my dove... you didn't deserve such cruelty. Never in all my years have I ever dreamt of hurting you, even in my nightmares". As he spoke, you heard his tone waver. Something in your chest lurched painfully, but you tried to stuff it down. "But you did," you told him, voice now soft as the old aches returned "I know it wasn't in your control, but I can't forget it". "I understand" Pure Vanilla said.

He then kneeled down, bowing a little. He pressed your hand to his forehead. "Please, let me make it up to you. I'll spend the rest of my life letting you know that I adore you every day, each more than the last" he said, tone having warbled into near-begging. "Pure Vanilla..." You said, and he cut you off by opening up his eyes. You could see the darkness that once suffocated them was now gone, the soft blue and yellow you'd come to love being visible once again. He gently moved your hand to his cheek, and kissed your palm. "I'm sorry, my dove. And I can't say it enough. I can't spend another moment thinking of how you looked that last time we met"

The memory fluttered across your mind, the way it stung seeing your beloved look at you with such disdain. All traces of coldness was gone, now the healer was leaning into your hand like it was the last time he'd ever feel your touch. You felt some dampness from his eye reach your hand, and that alone broke you. You inched closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. "I- I thought you'd-" you began, voice breaking up with emotion. Pure Vanilla wrapped you in his arms, a sensation you previously feared never feeling again. "Shh, shh, it's alright. I'm back now, you see? It's just me" he murmured.

You couldn't help but melt into his hold, pouring all the agony you'd felt into tears while dissolving in his arms. He sniffled, a small whimper leaving him as he cried along with you. It took several moments, but when you pulled back, Pure Vanilla began kissing the tears off of your dough, wiping your eyes clean with his hands. "I love you, my dove" he said quietly "More than anything. You don't have to forgive me just yet, but I'll try every day to prove it to you". You chuckled a little. It was so uniquely him, and for the first time in a long while, you felt he was himself again. His voice, the one you remembered, the one that comforted you countless times, was back.

You gave a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. Almost as soon as it happened, Pure Vanilla gently cupped your face, bringing you back in for a proper kiss. It was chaste, but you felt relief fill your form at feeling his kiss again. You held it with him until it slowly broke, Pure Vanilla simply breathing in the moment. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Anything you want, my love, and I'll grant it to you" he said. You smiled, hugging him once more "I'll tell you when I think of it. Can we just stay here for now?". "Of course," Pure Vanilla said, shifting to be fully sitting and putting you right in his lap. He gently pet your hair while keeping a tight hold around your waist. You leaned into him, feeling whole once again.

[taeyongdoyoung]

beg for you

summary: missing your ex, you stumble upon an interesting song that brings back memories you thought you could bottle up... pairing: vernon x reader genre: angst, smut, exes to online friends to lovers warnings: mentions of past break-up, reader felt neglected and lonely, insecurities, lowkey catfishing+lie by omission, swearing, song-writing themes, some serious talks, hand-holding, kissing, spitting, eating out, fingering, dom!vernon, orgasm denial, public unprotected sex (in a café bathroom), mainly lots of emotions, idk author's note: the fic was inspired by this iconic song, in particular vernon's verse and it has some occasional references to the lyrics in bold word count: 2.6k

It's been three months since you ended things with Vernon, blocked his number and all his socials and tried your best to forget about him. The reason for your break-up was mainly because you felt like he never had time for you, his music always came first and while that was appealing at the start of your relationship, it began to infuriate you and make you feel invisible towards its end. He would stand you up and forget about your dates more than once. He would make you feel like you were always his second choice. Not being around him hurts like hell, because you'd become so used to his presence that the lack of it brings so much emptiness. And also because a part of you still loves him.

One evening, you can't fall asleep so you're scrolling through some music apps. Suddenly you discover a new song. The artist hides their face behind a mask but their voice sounds somewhat familiar. Strangely enough, the lyrics just speak to you:

I don't think I'll ever feel this type of way again (This way again; Yеah, uh, yeah) I beg for you, please (Don't let go), don't let go of me, don't let go of me All the endless conversations about us been going on in our head In the night, we dream a future together and I feel bad in your bed I beg for you, please stay, I can't go a day without No, I can't go a day without you, hoo

So weird. It's like the artist knows exactly what's been on your mind for the past three months. You shut your phone off with a sigh and attempt to get some sleep. The next day, that same melody and those words haunt you. And the following day…It goes on for a while and you've become so obsessed with it that you try to do some research on the artist. Unfortunately, it's not of much help. Nobody knows the identity of the artist, how they look or their real name. It's frustrating but it is what it is. Maybe you should drop it. But then again…you really can't stop thinking about these fucking lyrics and how well they described how you've been feeling.

You decide to do something stupid and slide into the DMs of the anonymous artist. They'll probably never see this message as they have thousands of followers, but still, you need to get this off your chest somehow.

You: Hi, you probably get this a lot but your lyrics are really relatable, like they truly spoke to me and totally represent the way I've been feeling for the past three months. You're incredibly talented and I'd be happy to hear more of your music in the future.

It's a short message, nothing too crazy. You feel a sense of relief once you've sent it. You realize it doesn't matter if the artist ever sees it. You're just happy you were able to express your feelings.

To your immense shock, about 30 minutes later, you receive a notification. This is actually so insane you can't believe your eyes. The anonymous artist…texted you back?!

RevN98: Hi, this really means a lot to me. Actually, I don't get a lot of feedback, as I'm just starting out. I'll try my best to write more music. In what ways did you relate to the lyrics?

Is he seriously…initiating a discussion? It is wild enough he texted you back but the fact he wants to continue texting baffles you. But you are not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth. So, you respond rightaway.

You: I got out of a long-term relationship a couple of months ago and even though I should probably move on already, some part of me wishes my ex begged for me to stay. I know it's probably a selfish thought, considering I'm the one who broke up with the guy, but…I miss him sometimes and I keep thinking of a universe in which he'd fought for me.

After sending that message, you look at it in horror as you realize how personal it was. Why is it so easy to open up to a complete stranger? And not to people who actually know you…

You: Sorry, that was probably a whole bunch of TMI. Anyways, I really thought your lyrics were connected to how I was feeling if that makes sense.

You double text just in case. The response from the mysterious artist comes soon after.

RevN98: It makes sense, yeah. When I was writing them, I was also thinking about my past relationship. Honestly, I kind of wish I'd begged my ex to stay. I thought that by not doing so, I was respecting her wishes and giving her space. But now that it's been a while, I can't help but think I should have expressed myself better. I really miss her, though, so I guess that got reflected in the lyrics somehow.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts and figure out what to text.

You: Aw, man. Whoever your ex is, she's lucky to have such lyrics written about her. Even if it's over, maybe there's a way she finds your music and…I don't know, reconsiders things?

RevN98: Hah, that'd be a dream come true. I don't think she likes the kind of music I make.

You: Why not? Your music is great!

RevN98: Well, the truth is I was spending more time on my music than time with her. So, I guess that's one of the reasons for our break-up.

My God. This feels…too similar to your situation it gives you goosebumps. Despite that, it's like your fingers are possessed as they keep itching to text the anonymous artist back.

You: Time changes the way people feel. Maybe if you're honest with her and how you're feeling, there's a chance for a reconciliation. Or at least some closer. You should call her!

RevN98: I'd love that but she's blocked my number.

You: Use a friend's phone, duh!

RevN98: That'd be suspicious, considering I haven't told any of my friends about our break-up.

You: Dang…you're really not over this girl, huh?

RevN98: Not a chance.

You: So…what are you going to do?

RevN98: I don't know, for the time being texting you helps to ease the pain.

You: Likewise. But just to give you a heads-up, I'm not interested in any rebound relationship.

RevN98: Great. I'm not interested in that, either.

You: So…online buddies, then?

RevN98: Sounds good to me.

It is so strange how quickly the mysterious artist becomes part of your everyday life. You text each other quite often about anything. From what you've had for breakfast to what other music you've been listening to. From where you're planning to go with your friends to…how much you miss your exes. It is truly extraordinarily easy to talk to them. You still don't know much. How they look, what their real name is, where they live…But somehow it's enough knowing they're out there making awesome and relatable music.

Until one day it isn't.

You: We should meet up!

RevN98: I don't think that is a good idea…My schedule's crazy lately.

You: What do you mean? It's not like you have live performances.

You point out the obvious because from what you've gathered, maintaining this anonymity is key to RevN98.

RevN98: I just don't feel comfortable meeting in person…

You: Are you worried I'd expose your identity? You know I'm not that kind of person, right?

RevN98: I'm not worried about that. It's hard to explain. It would make sense if we met up, which is exactly why we can't meet up.

You: I'm super confused right now. But you know how important honesty is to me. So, it's now or never, I guess. If you don't want to meet up in the near future, I don't think I want to continue being friends…

You wait a couple of minutes, to give them a chance to make a decision. Finally, the response comes.

RevN98: Okay, let's meet up.

They text you a time and place. And then you ask the crucial question.

You: How will I know it's you?

RevN98: Trust me, you'll know.

This is…so cryptic. You guess you'll just have to rely on the fact that there are a bunch of photos of you on your profile, so the musician would be able to recognize you first.

When you arrive at the small café, you look around nervously, waiting. Negative thoughts keep haunting your mind. What if they change their mind in the last minute and stand you up? What if they are disappointed upon meeting you and never want to text you again? What if you were too harsh by giving an ultimatum? What if-

So many scenarios and you failed to consider the one that truly matters.

What if…you run into your ex at said café? What are the fucking odds?!

"What are you doing here?" you ask Vernon, sounding a bit too rude. Better to be rude than to burst into tears or something more embarrassing.

"Waiting for you," Vernon replies simply.

"What are you talking about?" you blink in confusion. Until it clicks…No. Freaking. Way.

Vernon sighs and takes his phone out, showing you the texts between you and RevN98. And the only explanation is…fucking hell. He is RevN98.

"Please, tell me you're joking right now."

"I wish I was," Vernon looks down, feeling guilty.

"How could you do this to me?" you inquire, eyes welling up already. You feel so weak upon seeing him.

"What was I supposed to do? You had me blocked on everything."

"What, and writing me a song under a false name sounded like the greatest idea?" you snap at him.

"I just needed to talk to you again. Somehow."

"Why? What is there to say?"

"I miss you," Vernon murmurs.

"You lied to me," you insist stubbornly.

"Please come back to me," he keeps trying.

"It's too late…" you try to reject him gently.

"I'm begging you," Vernon really wants a second chance.

You shake your head, but your hands are already reaching for his. Desperate to hold them one more time, you lean closer.

"I'm not taking you back," you keep fighting it.

"Okay," he nods.

"We're just…gonna talk, yeah? Seems a waste of my great outfit to go back home."

"Okay," Vernon repeatss.

As the two of you sit down to have a chat, suddenly all of the unsaid words and undelivered messages bubble up to the surface.

"I should have fought for you. I mean it. Music is important to me but not as much as you. You are my muse, how could I go another day without you?"

"It seems you've been doing a great job writing music without me," you say bitterly.

"Oh, yeah?" Vernon raises his eyebrows cockily. "Well, I bet I can write even better if you're back in my life."

"I was too harsh," you admit. "I let my overthinking and insecurities get the worst of me. When I broke up with you, it seems I had forgotten how much I love music, too. I was so caught up in my own dark thoughts that I didn't matter to you that things escalated."

"You had a point," Vernon chuckles sadly. "I wasn't giving you the attention you needed. The attention you deserve. I was being selfish."

"I was selfish, too," you confess. "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to make a choice between me and music."

"I would pick you. For the record."

"Record is exactly what you'll be making," you tease him. "I'm serious. I need to hear more of what you've been working on."

"I'd love to show you. But there's something else I'd like to do first," Vernon smirks mischievously.

He grabs your hand and takes you to the café's bathroom. He pushes you inside a free booth and locks the door behind him. He kisses you under the bathroom lights eagerly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Hey!" you chide him playfully. "I said I wasn't taking you back."

"Too bad. 'Cause I'm taking you," Vernon says assertively.

"You…you've changed," you blink in surprise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vernon smiles and his palms dig into your lower back deliciously, as he kisses you again. "God, I missed this taste."

"You're insane," you laugh but you can't find it in you to deny it any longer. You want him so bad.

"Don't let go of me," he repeats the song's lyrics in your ear.

"I won't. As long as you promise the same," you ask.

Vernon doesn't say a word as he kneels in front of you. He picks up one of your legs and swings it over his shoulder as pulls your panties to the side. Suddenly, you're so grateful for your genius decision to wear a dress. He spits on your pussy and attacks your folds with his skilled tongue. You're already losing your mind over how good it feels, when suddenly, he pulls back.

You gasp in disappointment as your pleasure was so abruptly interrupted.

"Beg me," Vernon commands you easily. "Beg me to make you come."

"You're fucking insane," you refuse. You've always had a little bit of a brat in you.

Vernon, however, doesn't seem perturbed by your refusal to cooperate and sticks one finger inside you, teasing you slow enough to frustrate you but not fast enough to get you there. It hurts so sweetly you both hate and love it.

"Beg me," he repeats.

It would be so easy to do that. Just to get that sweet release…But the stubborn part of you is still stronger than the part of you that wants to come.

''Try harder," you grin cruelly.

Vernon is not one to back down from a challenge and unleashes his final weapon. He takes off his jeans and slides his hard cock inside you. Fuck. You'd forgotten how girthy he is.

"I missed you so much," he whispers in your ear. And his genuine words affect you more than his actions. And oh, how terribly you've missed him, too.

You hold on to the back of his neck, needing him for support. He keeps tormenting you, not moving a lot, just making you feel so full but so dissatisfied at the same time. You truly can't take it anymore.

"P-please, let me c-come," you beg for him hopelessly.

"There's my good girl," Vernon smiles proudly and adjusts his movements, adding pressure with his fingers so that you come in mere seconds.

"T-thank you, thank you," you chant, not knowing what demon possessed you to act this way.

"So polite," he laughs adorably and holds you close as he reaches his own high.

You don't want to let go of him ever again. But you're gonna have to, because you hear angry people who want to use the bathroom. Uh-oh.

You quickly try to clean each other up and rush outside, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You get a few weird looks from random people, but honestly, it doesn't matter. This felt too good.

"Sooo…" Vernon says once you've arrived at his chill but cozy apartment. "Does this mean you'll take me back?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Beg me nicely?" you suggest teasingly.

"Oh, you know I will," Vernon promises.

Bonus:

"Veeern, it's been hours, didn't you finish the song already?" you complain, desperate for his attention.

"Just five-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," you warn him, though you don't really mean it. You're just playing around. You know he cares about you deeply. Perhaps more deeply that he lets on.

"Won't you wait another hour or two?" Vernon teases you back.

"You know what? I'd wait as long as it takes," you smile and put your lips on his lips.

The End

[cruel-seduction]

Run, baby, Run. (Wolf theo au)

Wolf!theo au part 1 (u can read it as standalone)

word count - 3.5k+

Summary - You still remember the first time Theo ruined you—how you kicked, screamed, pretended you didn’t want it, even as your body betrayed you, dripping, pulsing, aching for more. But this time, he’s giving you a choice: run. Try to escape. If he catches you, and you know he will, there’ll be no mercy. He’ll have you spread out on the bed, wrists pinned, legs forced wide as he takes his time—sucking, biting, fucking you into delirium, making you come again and again until your mind shatters and the only thing left is the filthy, desperate need to be owned by him

Contains - spit but not theo it's reader instead, cnc idk man what this is called, fingering, smut, degrading, and I genuinely don't know which is bad or not so contain some really bad stuff also soft dom theo who knows how to mock someone.

a/n - I proofread it in my phone while I was in metro. I felt very embarrassed. I am ovulating. Wolf theo is a need not a want.

The ache between your thighs still hasn’t faded.

You shift uncomfortably as you walk, your muscles sore, your body betraying you with every step. It’s been a week, but you can still feel him—his weight pressing you into your own mattress, the brutal drag of his cock stretching you open, his teeth sinking into your skin as he whispered against your throat, “Mine.”

You had fought him that night. Hard. You had clawed at his arms, shoved against his chest, even slapped him across the face so hard your palm stung—but all he did was fucking smile. Like he was amused. Like your resistance meant nothing. Like the bond had already decided for you.

And maybe it had.

Your fingers tighten around the silver chain around your neck, the protective talisman hanging just above your collarbone. A worthless thing. A useless, desperate attempt to convince yourself that you still had a choice in any of this. You had bought it from a vendor in Knockturn Alley the day after he had ruined you, the old witch promising that it would keep werewolves at bay. But deep down, you knew better.

Nothing could keep him away from you.

And the worst part?

Some sick, twisted part of you didn’t want it to.

No. Fuck that. You shake your head, forcing the thought away, shoving it deep into the recesses of your mind where all your shame lives. You didn’t want him. You didn’t. He had forced you—pinned you down, taken what he wanted, told you that the mark he left on your skin bound you together in a way that you could never undo. It wasn’t real. It was just the bite. Just a trick of biology, some ancient, primal magic designed to make you want him.

That’s all it was.

And yet, every night since, you had lain awake in your bed, pulse racing, breath uneven, skin prickling with the memory of him. Waiting.

For what, you don’t know. For him to come back? For him to break down your door again, to pin you to the mattress and make you forget why you ever fought him in the first place?

Your jaw tightens as you force your feet to move faster, your bag slung over your shoulder as you take the lonelier route home. You had done it without thinking. Without realizing. Maybe because you were avoiding the crowded streets, or maybe—no, no.

You’re just being paranoid.

But then you see it.

A blur of movement—just beyond the edge of your vision.

Your breath catches, your heart slamming against your ribs. A shadow flickers between the buildings, something too fast, too smooth, too wrong. You freeze, eyes darting toward the alley up ahead, and for a second, you swear you see a pair of glowing red eyes staring back at you before vanishing into the dark.

Every instinct in your body screams at you to run.

You spin on your heel, but before you can take a single step, a hand shoots out from the shadows—rough fingers curling around your wrist, yanking you into the alleyway. You barely have time to gasp before you’re shoved back against the brick wall, a firm body pressing into yours, familiar heat searing through your clothes.

Then, a low chuckle.

"Missed me, babygirl?"

Theodore fucking Nott.

Theodore chuckles, low and amused, his breath fanning against your cheek as his fingers tighten around your wrist, pinning you firmly against the rough brick.

Then his gaze flickers down, and his smirk stretches wider.

“Oh, sweetheart.” His voice is drenched in condescension as he plucks at the silver chain around your neck, the so-called protective talisman glinting under the moonlight. “This is adorable. Really.”

You don’t move, don’t breathe, just stare at him as he slowly lowers his head—deliberate, teasing—until his lips brush against the pendant. His mouth parts, the warmth of his tongue flicking over the metal as he hums.

You flinch, the cold silver pressing between his teeth—nothing happens. No burning flesh, no pained hiss, no forced retreat.

Just him, smirking against your throat like the cruel bastard he is.

Your stomach drops.

Bitch, you were supposed to protect me.

Theo laughs like he can hear the exact moment realization dawns, his grip sliding from your wrist to lace his fingers through yours, effectively trapping you. “Did you really think,” he murmurs, voice dark, sinful, mocking, “that some cheap trinket would keep you safe from me?”

His nose brushes against your jaw, inhaling deeply, voice turning rougher, huskier, as he exhales against your skin. “You should’ve let me die that night. Should’ve walked away, left me bleeding in the dirt.” His lips ghost over your pulse, sharp teeth grazing just enough to make you tense. “But you didn’t.”

His tongue flicks against the mark on your neck, and heat rushes through your veins like poison.

“Now you’re mine.”

The words send a violent shudder down your spine, but you force your lips to curl into a smirk despite the way your stomach twists. “Possessive much?” you taunt, trying to inject as much venom as you can into the words. “Is that because I was the only woman desperate enough to touch you? Or did mummy not hug you enough as a child?”

The dig is sharp, brutal, and you see it hit—just for a second, a flicker of something dangerous sparking behind his golden gaze.

But then—fuck.

His smirk only deepens.

“Careful,” he purrs, his voice a lethal promise, pressing his knee between your thighs just enough to make you feel how quickly this could turn against you. “Don't speak too much” His grip tightens as he leans in, his lips nearly brushing yours.

Your pulse slams against your ribs as his face lowers, his lips brushing yours—just a ghost of contact.

Then—

He kisses you.

It’s not soft. It’s not kind.

It’s punishment.

A slow, wicked claim, his tongue sliding against yours, his teeth dragging over your bottom lip like he’s already imagining what you’ll sound like when you beg.

You gasped against the dirt, your lungs heaving as Theo’s weight pressed you down, his lips slanting over yours in a kiss that was more battle than intimacy—teeth grazing, breath searing, the brutal press of his tongue forcing its way between your lips. You bit him. Hard. The sharp tang of copper flooded your mouth, but all it did was make him groan, his hips grinding down, pressing the thick length of his cock against you through the barrier of your clothes.

“You bite me again, dove,” he murmured darkly, dragging his lips to your jaw, to the tender skin just beneath your ear, “and I’ll put that pretty mouth of yours to better use.”

You scoffed, spitting blood to the side as your hands shoved against his chest. It was useless. He didn’t even move—didn’t even flinch—just smiled that lazy, arrogant smirk that made you want to rip his face off.

“You keep acting like I want this, Theo,” you hissed, your nails raking down his forearms, but he caught your wrists easily, pinning them above your head with one hand. “I’d rather throw myself to the real wolves than let you touch me again.”

His golden eyes gleamed, his mouth curling wickedly as he wedged his thigh between yours, forcing them apart. “You mean the same way you threw yourself at me last time?” His free hand dropped, palming you through your clothes, fingers pressing between your thighs, slow and taunting. “Because if I remember correctly, you were shaking—so fucking desperate, I barely had to touch you before you came all over my cock.”

You arched, snarling, trying to buck him off, but it only made things worse—only made you feel the steel-hard press of him even more. He was so big, thick and pulsing against you, and your traitorous body clenched at the memory of being stretched wide, ruined around him.

It had been a week. A week of trying to convince yourself you hated every second of it. A week of lying awake, thighs pressed together, still sore, still marked, still aching—because the worst part was, your body had already decided. It didn’t care what your mind wanted. It only cared about the mark.

He knew it, too. Could smell it.

He dipped his head, inhaling deeply against the crook of your neck before letting out a low, knowing chuckle. “Mmm. That’s cute, dove,” he purred. “That little act. That little scowl.” His lips brushed against your throat, hot and teasing, just barely there. “But I can smell it. I can smell how wet you are for me.”

Your stomach twisted. “Fuck you.”

His teeth dragged against your pulse point, his grip on your wrists tightening. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

And then he tore your blouse open—just ripped it down the middle like it was nothing, like the fabric was no stronger than tissue. The cold air bit at your skin, at your breasts covered through a bra, your nipples pebbling against the thin clothes before Theo’s mouth descended, closing around one, sucking hard through the clothing barrier.

You whimpered.

No. No, no, no.

He hummed in approval, laving his tongue over the sensitive bud before dragging his teeth over it, sharp and teasing. “Still pretending?” he taunted, his voice muffled against your skin. “Still acting like you don’t want me to ruin you again?”

You did the only thing you could think of. You spat in his face.

It was a mistake.

His expression darkened, amusement flashing into something far more dangerous. His fingers dug into your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Tsk. Still got some fight in you, huh?”

He leaned down, licking the spit from his lips, from the corner of his mouth, his voice low and taunting. “Good. Makes it more fun when I finally break you.”

You glared at him, panting, your body betraying you, slick pooling between your thighs even as you scowled up at him. “You’ll never break me.”

His grin was wicked.

“Careful,” he murmured, dragging his free hand down your stomach, past the waistband of your skirt, slipping beneath the soaked fabric of your panties. “Keep running that mouth of yours, and I might have to find a better use for it.”

You shuddered as his fingers slid through the wetness pooling between your thighs, circling your clit once—once—before pulling away.

You hissed, frustrated.

He laughed.

“Oh, baby,” he crooned, licking up the side of your throat, savoring the way your breath stuttered. “You’re gonna beg me for it.”

You gritted your teeth, eyes burning with fury. “I would kill myself before I beg for you.”

His smirk was cruel. Amused.

“Oh, dove.” He released your hands, standing over you, cracking his neck like this was nothing but a game to him. “You are fun.”

And then he took a step back.

Your breath hitched.

“What—?”

“Run, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Run. Let’s see how far you get.”

A slow smile curled over his lips, his golden eyes burning.

“Go ahead. Run.”

His voice dropped, dark and sinful.

“The chase only makes it sweeter when I catch you.”

Your pulse hammered in your ears as you bolted into the trees, your lungs burning with every frantic breath. You frantically took the safety pin from your pocket and tightly secure your blouse Although it wasn't much help but still it helped. The cold night air bit at your skin, the remnants of Theo’s touch still lingering on your throat, your lips, your body—fuck, you could still feel his fingers between your thighs, the phantom sensation of his teasing touch making you stumble.

But you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

You pushed yourself harder, darting through the dense forest, your bare feet scraping against jagged roots and damp earth. Your torn clothes clung to you, your exposed skin prickling as the wind lashed against you like cruel fingers. You didn’t know where you were going—all you knew was that you had to run.

Had to get away.

Even though deep down, you knew it was useless.

He was faster. Stronger. Could smell you.

But that didn’t mean you were going to make it easy for him.

You veered left, sprinting toward a crumbling structure barely visible through the darkness. The silhouette of an abandoned church loomed before you, its tall, cracked steeple reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers. The wooden doors hung off their hinges, creaking as the wind whispered through the hollow space.

You shoved inside, your breath ragged, your body trembling. The scent of damp wood and old decay filled your lungs as you pressed yourself against the cold stone wall, trying to calm the frantic beat of your heart.

The only sound was your own breathing.

Had you lost him?

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing your body to stop shaking. Just a minute. Just one minute to rest—

The world tilted.

Your vision blurred at the edges.

Your body gave out.

You barely registered the sensation of falling before darkness swallowed you whole.

Drip.

A slow, rhythmic sound echoed in the distance. Your head felt heavy, your body sluggish as you fought to regain consciousness.

Drip. Drip.

Your fingers twitched. Your breath hitched.

Something was wrong.

Your wrists—

You tried to move them, but they didn’t budge.

Panic shot through your veins as your eyes snapped open.

You were on a bed.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering glow of candlelight casting long shadows across cracked walls. The air was thick with dust, the scent of old wood mingling with something else—something deeper, darker.

Your gaze darted around wildly—until you found him.

Theo.

That bastard.

He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with that same arrogant smirk, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You fainted, baby.” His voice was syrupy sweet, mock concern dripping from every word. “Didn’t eat enough today?”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “Theo—”

“Too bad,” he interrupted, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the bed, his smirk widening as he tilted his head. “Guess I’ll just have to fuck you until you faint again.”

Your stomach clenched.

You tugged against the restraints, glaring. “You—”

He crawled onto the bed before you could finish, one hand bracing beside your head, his body pressing over yours, caging you in. His scent surrounded you—dark, heady, intoxicating.

His lips found your neck in an instant, open-mouthed and hungry, sucking and biting, leaving bruises in his wake. His breath was hot against your skin as he dragged his tongue over your pulse, his teeth scraping just enough to make you shudder.

“Missed you, dove,” he murmured, his voice low and taunting, vibrating against your throat. “Did you miss me?”

You clenched your jaw, your body betraying you as a shiver ran down your spine.

He chuckled, slow and wicked.

“You did.”

His hand slid up your torso, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing the swell of your chest before closing around your breast through the thin lace of your bra. Your shirt had been discarded somewhere in the room—ripped away in his frenzy, leaving you breathless, exposed. You opened your mouth to yell, to curse him, but before the words could form, his lips crashed against yours.

He wasn’t kissing you. He was consuming you.

His tongue pushed past your lips, claiming your mouth the way he had already claimed your body—relentless, possessive. You fought it, pressing against his chest, but his grip only tightened, his body pinning you beneath him, caging you in. He was going to do what he wanted, and you both knew it.

His fingers found your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before giving it a sharp pinch. You gasped, your lips parting in surprise. He took it as an invitation—his tongue slipping deeper, stroking against yours, tasting you, teasing you. The kiss was all teeth and dominance, messy and desperate, and wrong—so fucking wrong.

And yet, the ache between your legs was undeniable.

Heat pooled in your stomach, liquid and heavy, and you hated it. Hated the way your body betrayed you, how your thighs clenched together in search of friction, how the damp fabric of your panties clung to your skin.

Theo pulled back, breaking the kiss just enough to drag his lips down to your jaw, then lower—to the soft curve of your throat. His breath was hot, uneven. Hungry.

“Needy, are we?” His voice was a low growl against your skin, laced with amusement.

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer—but when his teeth sank into your neck, sharp and unyielding, a moan tore free before you could stop it. Your body arched involuntarily, the sting of his bite blooming into something unbearable, something electric.

His mouth soothed over the mark almost instantly, tongue laving over the sensitive skin as if in apology, but you knew better. He wasn’t sorry. He was branding you.

Bastard.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were red, wet, pupils blown so wide his irises were barely visible. He looked ruined—like a man on the edge of his sanity, held together only by the need to bury himself inside you.

His gaze dropped lower, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, taking in the way your nipples strained against the lace of your bra. His fingers curled into the fabric.

You knew what was coming.

“Theo—”

The sound of lace ripping filled the air.

That fucker.

“That was expensive,” you seethed, shooting him a glare.

His lips curled into a smirk, completely unfazed. “I’ll buy you another one.”

You scoffed. “I don’t need your charity. And I sure as hell don’t need your soothing words while you’re assaulting me.”

He chuckled darkly. “So, what? You just need my dick then?”

You opened your mouth to snap back, but the moment you did, his lips latched onto your left breast, his teeth grazing your nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth. A strangled noise caught in your throat—half a curse, half a gasp.

That bastard.

His tongue swirled around the peak, flicking, teasing, tasting, while his hand slid to your other breast, rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers, tugging and twisting until you were writhing beneath him.

“Fucking insufferable,” you hissed, trying to shove him away.

He didn’t budge. Not even a little.

His other hand drifted lower, palm pressing against your stomach before moving between your legs. His knuckles brushed against the damp fabric of your panties, and he groaned, deep and low.

“Fuck,” he murmured, lips still latched onto your breast. “You’re soaking, baby. You act like you don’t want this, but your pretty little cunt is telling me otherwise.”

You clenched your thighs shut, but he only chuckled.

“Aw, don’t get shy on me now.” His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, brushing against your slick folds, deliberately avoiding your clit. His lips dragged up to your throat again, sucking, biting, leaving bruises in his wake.

You gasped, half in frustration, half in something far more humiliating.

“I hate you,” you spat.

His smirk was against your skin. “You’re gonna love me by the time I’m done with you.” He again took his hands out of you panties like right now all his focus was on your breast.

Sucking, biting—his mouth was relentless, devouring every inch of your skin, branding you with his teeth and tongue. His lips latched onto one nipple while his fingers twisted the other, switching between them with cruel precision. Every flick, every sharp nip, sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, hands fisting into the sheets, torn between pushing him away and yanking him closer.

By the time he finally pulled back, your breasts were swollen, reddened from his assault, saliva running down your stomach in slick, glistening trails. Your thighs clenched involuntarily, and that bastard noticed. Of course he did.

A knowing smirk curled at his lips as he dragged his fingers down your body—slow, deliberate—before pressing them between your legs.

You jerked. "Don’t—"

"Don’t what, baby?" His voice was a mocking purr, fingers brushing over the damp fabric of your panties. "Don’t touch what’s already mine?"

You sucked in a sharp breath, willing yourself to stay composed, to ignore the unbearable heat curling in your gut. But then he pushed your panties aside and slid a finger into you—no warning, no mercy.

A strangled cry left your lips.

Theo groaned, low and satisfied. "Fuck. You're tight." His breath hitched as he pushed deeper, his knuckles pressing against your entrance. "This little cunt is choking my fingers, baby. You needed this, didn’t you?"

You bit down on your lip, refusing to make a sound, but the burn of the stretch mixed with the humiliating wetness coating his fingers had you shaking.

He curled his finger, dragging it along that sensitive spot inside you, making your back arch despite yourself. "Ohhh, look at that," he cooed. "You’re clenching so hard. Trying to milk my fingers already?"

"Go to hell," you spat, breathless.

He chuckled, dark and low, before shoving a second finger inside you.

A broken moan slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

"Yeah?" Theo pressed his forehead against yours, eyes blown black with hunger. "Then can I take you with me, sweetheart?”

His thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles—just enough to drive you insane, not enough to give you what you needed. You hated how your hips jerked up, how your body begged even when you didn’t.

"Poor thing," he crooned, pressing a kiss to your cheek, deceptively soft. "You’re fighting so hard, but look at you." His fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging against that perfect spot, pulling slick, obscene sounds from between your legs. "Listen to yourself. You’re soaking my fucking hand."

Your breath hitched. "Shut up."

"Aww, baby, don’t be shy," he taunted. "You’re the one making all these pretty little noises."

He twisted his wrist, angling his fingers just right, and pleasure slammed through you like a live wire. Your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, your brain short-circuiting.

Theo stilled.

Your vision snapped back into focus, only to find him staring at you with something feral in his eyes—something almost reverent.

He looked wrecked. Obsessed.

Like you were a god he was desperate to worship.

His lips hovered over yours, breath fanning against your skin, but he didn’t move. He just watched—like he was committing this moment to memory. The way your lips parted. The way your body trembled. The way you gave in.

Then his smirk returned, cruel and knowing.

"Ohhh, that’s it, baby," he murmured. "That’s the spot, huh?"

You clenched your jaw, trying to pull yourself back from the edge, but your mind was slipping, unraveling with every slow, precise stroke of his fingers. Words failed you. Thoughts scattered.

"You were talking so much shit a minute ago," Theo mused, dragging his tongue along the shell of your ear. "What happened, baby? Can’t form a single coherent thought now?"

Your fingers dug into his shoulders. "I hate you."

He only smirked, shoving his fingers impossibly deeper, swallowing the desperate cry that tore from your throat.

"That’s cute, sweetheart," he murmured, lips brushing against yours. "But you’re gonna be screaming my name when you cum."

And fuck, you hated that he was right.

Your cunt ached—stretched around his fingers, abused by the relentless pace of his thrusts. The pain licked at the edges of your pleasure, sharpening it into something almost unbearable. Every time his fingers curled inside you, they dragged against that spot that made your vision white out, made your body convulse against him despite the screams in your mind telling you to fight.

But fight what?

The pleasure? The way your body betrayed you? The way his voice—low, taunting, dripping with amusement—curled around you like a noose?

"That’s it, baby," Theo purred, his free hand tweaking one of your nipples, rolling it between his fingers. "Cry for me."

Tears welled in your eyes as the unbearable coil in your stomach tightened, twisted, ready to snap. You shook your head violently, choking on your own breath. "No—No—"

He pinched your clit sharply, and the scream that tore from your throat wasn’t one of protest. It was pure, raw need.

"No?" Theo mocked, his voice saccharine, dripping with fake sympathy. "Then why’s this little pussy clenching around my fingers like she doesn’t want me to stop?"

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t breathe. Your stomach tensed, your thighs shook, and your mouth opened into a silent, shattered cry as your orgasm hit—a violent, electric explosion that wracked your entire body.

It stole the air from your lungs. The world disappeared, your mind reduced to nothing but raw sensation—pure, devastating pleasure. You fisted the sheets so tightly your knuckles burned, your back arching into him, chasing the last tremors of your release.

Theo didn’t stop.

He kept his fingers inside you, fucking you through every aftershock, prolonging the pleasure until it hurt. Your sobs turned breathless, broken.

"There she is," he cooed, his voice like silk over razors. "Look at you. Fucking coming all over my fingers like you were made for this."

A breathless laugh slipped from your lips, shaky and dazed. Half-laugh, half-sob. What the fuck were you doing?

You barely registered when he pulled his fingers out, bringing them to your lips. You hesitated and just then you felt sting. He fucking slapped your oversensitive cunt. Your eyes rolled from the pleasure. Then he whispered in your ears slowly to suck his fingers. His voice so fucking deep that you left control over your body. It was like you can't control it anymore. So you sucked them clean—slowly, deliberately—never breaking eye contact.

"Good girl," he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction.

You shivered, your body still thrumming, over-sensitive and raw. Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, trying desperately to ground yourself—to think.

But then Theo was moving.

He pushed your legs apart, settling between them like he belonged there, dragging his lips along your inner thigh. "You’re not done yet, sweetheart."

Your head lolled to the side, a weak whimper spilling from your throat. "Theo—"

He chuckled darkly. "Theo?" His teeth scraped over your sensitive skin, his breath hot against your thigh. "No, baby. For now?" He pressed a lingering kiss to your soaked cunt, smug and reverent.

"I’m your fucking god."

And when he dragged his tongue through your folds, you believed him

Taglist - @empath-bunny @gipsonnikki @emptyachingblue @syymplypotter @a-little-funny

© This work belongs to me. I do not allow repost or translating my work. If I found you doing something like that you will be blocked and reported.

[doliacuddles]

HEADCANON .ᐟ ㅤ𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆?

𝖸𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

Alastor doesn’t make deals lightly. If you agreed to one with him, it means he has you in his grasp. What did you get in return? Power? Protection? An impossible wish? It doesn’t matter—because now, you belong to him. And Alastor never lets go of what’s his.

He will always remind you of the nature of your agreement. He doesn’t say it cruelly but with his usual playful tone. "Oh, darling, don’t make that face! You knew exactly what you were getting into. Or did you think you could test my patience? Ha! What a ridiculous thought!"

He's possessive, but in his own way. He won’t lock you in a cage, but he’ll make sure you never forget he's there. He’ll keep up with you, appear out of nowhere when you least expect it, and always have an eye (or several) on you.

He'll treat you as his personal entertainment. Why let his little "hire" get bored? He'll make you dance to his tune, pulling you into scenes where everything feels like a grand performance… though the invisible strings will always be in his hands.

The leash may be invisible, but it’s there. You can wander, talk to others, even challenge him with small acts of defiance. But the moment you try to break free from his influence, the moment you think you can act without his permission… his smile will widen, and his voice will ring out with a veiled warning:

"Don't forget, darling, you're my pet— and I won’t hesitate to shorten your leash~"

Humiliation is part of the deal. It’s not that he wants to degrade you… well, maybe just a little. He loves seeing you blush in frustration when he calls you "my dear property" in front of others. It’s not an insult—it’s a fact. And if you try to deny it, he’ll just laugh. Why deny it when you both know the truth?

He'll toy with you like a cat with its prey. He'll challenge you with impossible dilemmas, watching with a mocking grin as you struggle to escape his verbal traps. And when you finally give in to his will, he'll simply say, "Well, what a surprise! As if this outcome wasn’t set in stone from the very start~"

Time means nothing to him, but it does to you. Unlike you, Alastor has all of eternity at his disposal. He doesn’t care how long it takes for you to give in completely—because, at the end of the day, he knows you will. And every second you spend resisting will only make the game more enjoyable for him.

"Trying to break the deal? Ha ha ha! Oh, you're hilarious." The mere thought is enough to amuse him. Do you really think a mere sinner could outsmart him? That you could undo something etched into the very fabric of Hell itself? If you ever dare to try, he won't get angry. He won’t need to. He'll simply step closer, that deranged grin on his face, and say with the calm confidence of a predator certain of its victory:

"It was a lovely attempt, darling. But now... it's time to remind you who's in charge~!"

In the end, you're his favorite piece in this game. It doesn’t matter how you feel about it. If you cry, he’ll laugh. If you scream, he’ll find it adorable. If you give up… well, that just means he’s won—not that he ever doubted it. But the most terrifying part isn’t the game itself; it’s the way, little by little… you start to get used to it.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

[jeongteen]

MY FAVORITE MODEL

Hyun-ju x gn!reader

Notes : I was playing around with that "relationships headcanons" website and had a prompt about one person loving to take pictures and the other one hating to be on camera, decided to write a little story for my lovely Hyun-ju (also I feel like we're getting less stories about her nowadays, I needed to react!) My requests are open for Hyun-ju and several other characters, just check my pin to see :)) Keep in mind English is not my first language so my apologies for any mistake <3

CW : low self confidence, fluff, comfort (let me know if I missed anything)

Summary : You love taking pictures of your lovely girlfriend Hyun-ju, she doesn't seem to appreciate it as much.

Words count : 505

It's a sunny afternoon. The kind of afternoon that makes you want to spend the whole day outside, surrounded by nature. And that's what you decide to do today. Hyun-ju loves these moments between the two of you, she can forget about the heaviness of life for a moment and just enjoy the warmth of the sun with her lovely partner.

In these moments, you love having your camera with you to take some photos. You love capturing the beauty of things all around you. You take photos of flowers, the sky, everything around you.

Your favorite subject is your girlfriend, Hyun-ju. Since the day you met her, you've been blown away by her beauty. Everything about her is so perfect. The way her hair perfectly falls on her shoulders, her little smile whenever you compliment her, her soft looking hands with her black painted nails, the way she dresses, the way her pupils dilate whenever she lays her eyes on you... Everything.

Unfortunately, Hyun-ju doesn't see herself that way. She has a tendency of dismissing her own beauty. No matter the amount of time you're telling her she's the most divine woman you've ever met, she won't believe it. Not that she thinks you'd lie to her, but she just won't allow herself to feel like that.

You absolutely love taking photos of her, but she doesn't like it as much. She will let you take 1 or 2 photos here and there because she knows how happy it makes you, but soon enough she'll hide her face with her hands, will gently ask you to stop or just turn away.

This makes you so sad, such an unconfident beauty. Sometimes you wish she could see herself the way you see her.

As you take another photo of your lovely girlfriend, she reacts.

— How about you put that camera down for a few seconds? She says that with a light chuckle because she doesn't want to offend you, but you know her too well and can sense she's starting to feel bad again.

— But why?

— Come on... We've talked about it already... She sounds so sad, you can't let her in this state of mind.

— Hey, Hyun-ju, look at me. You grab her hands in yours, caressing them softly. You look gorgeous, this dress compliments your body so well. I know you don't see yourself the way I see you, that truly saddens me. But you also have to know that no matter what happens, you'll always be the most divine goddess I ever laid my eyes on. If you don't want me to take more pictures today, I won't. But I'll keep on staring at the most gorgeous woman this world has known, because that's who you are and I love you.

You can see her blushing a little, she always does when you give her compliments, especially when she's not feeling herself.

— I love you. The way her whole face seems to relax while saying this... You truly are her safe place.

[leighsartworks216]

BESTIE SAY WHAT!!!!! 👀

so.. I’m just here to put it on the record that I will be the first person in line to read your take on Caleb x Zayne in an empty classroom if you ever feel so inclined. I mean, in public!? Desperately muffling their noises while trying to make each other crack!? Also it’s between classes, that’s not a lot of time so you know that’s going to be quick and hard and sloppy…

anywayyy >.< just casually sending you back a plot bunny in exchange for yours, you know how it is *evil cackle* <33

Evil Plot Bunnies my beloved >:3

Like just imagine Caleb spotting Zayne on his way to class. Running over through the horde of students and slinging an arm around his shoulders. Says he needs to talk about something with him, a lame excuse when Zayne can clearly see just how flustered Caleb is - red cheeks, heavier breaths, eyes that keep flickering to his lips

Caleb dragging Zayne into an empty classroom that he's been lowkey eyeballing for a couple weeks, keeping track of classes that go in there and when. Zayne asks what the hell he's thinking as Caleb pulls him out of sight of the door window and pushes him against one of the desks

His mouth is on him the next instant. "We gotta practice bein quiet," he bullshits. "What if she decides to tease you in public? You really gonna be able to wait to get home to do somethin about it?"

Zayne sighing. It's such a thin excuse. His heart is racing at the thought of being caught. Not only that: his poor attendance. "Caleb, I can't miss class-"

Caleb kisses the excuse from his mouth. "It's one class. And you know everything about it already. What's the harm?"

"My record-"

Caleb groaning. Pulling back to glare at Zayne while he covers his mouth with his hand. "They love you, they'll forgive it. Now shut up, will ya? Don't wanna get caught in here, right?"

Zayne glaring over his hand, but it disappears just as quick when Caleb's crotch rubs up against his. Hips rocking against him, dicks rubbing against each other through the layers of their pants. Caleb smirking, knowing he's won this time, and pulling his hand away to loosen the tie of Zayne's uniform.

"Keep it down," he reminds him, exposing his collar and sucking on it, kissing at it, tasting the hint of cologne on his neck. "'Kay?"

Pants being haphazardly shoved down to their knees, cocks sliding against each other as Zayne's hand wraps around both. Caleb kissing Zayne senseless, both of them panting and swallowing the moans and gasps of the other.

Zayne suddenly shoving Caleb away and down to his knees, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes as his cock drips precum right in front of his face. "You're so eager - I wonder if you could put your own pleasure aside for her. Keeps your hands behind your back or on me, understood?"

Caleb loving being commanded by Zayne in the same breadth that he hates it - being bossed around by his competition. Teasing him with his tongue and hands, caressing and squeezing his thighs, circling his nipples, going too slow for how little time they have. Zayne grabbing him by the hair and shoving him further on his dick, biting his lip to stay quiet despite the heat surrounding him. Having to bite the bite of his hand when Caleb's bobbing and licking make him cum, filling Caleb's mouth and shooting down his throat.

Caleb shocking Zayne when he pulls off and holds out his tongue to show he swallowed it all. Every time before, they'd spit it out.

Standing and kissing Zayne hard, licking into his mouth so he can taste himself on his tongue. Turning him around and pushing him to bend over the desk. "Was that satisfactory enough for you, sir?" he teases. Zayne involuntarily shivers at the moniker. "I think I waited long enough, didn't I?"

Zayne covering his mouth tightly as Caleb pressing spit-covered fingers into his asshole. Fingering him open, curling up against his prostate just enough to make him forget entirely about missing class and ruining his perfect record.

Caleb whispering a husky reminder in Zayne's ear to stay quiet as he slowly pushes into him. Holding desperately onto his hips, hard enough to bruise, as he eases back out and shoves back in, building up to a pace that has Zayne clinging to the edge of the desk and the slaps of skin echoing in the room.

Marking up Zayne's back and shoulders to keep himself quiet when his cock fills him so perfectly, heat squeezing around him deliciously. Panting by his ear. Whimpering as he starts getting close.

Zayne reaching back to grab a fistful of his hair as he angles his body to kiss Caleb over his shoulder. His thrusts stuttering with a muffled groan as Caleb buries himself to the hilt and cums inside of him - another first.

Cleaning up after with an air of awkwardness because what was that? Playing (some of) it off with comments about rating each other's ability to stay quiet and figuring out how to get out of here without being caught by the hall monitor. Mentions about how MC would have to be pleased with their performances, because, right, yes, this is still a competition for her. Nevermind Zayne taking a cold shower before bed with his forehead pressed to the cold tile, hoping his erection will go down, that he'll stop thinking of Caleb's mouth and how he swallowed his cum. Or Caleb trying to resist rutting against a pillow in a weak attempt to replicate fucking Zayne like that. Completely irrelevant.

THIS WENT ON SO SO MUCH LONGER THAN INTENDED HOLY SHIT

[honeyscara]

❝ not a joke ❞ — Shoyo hinata

-haikyuu(spoilers!)

Synopsis: childhood friends to lovers

Cw: fem! reader x timeskip! Hinata, 18+ MDNI!!, soft sex, fingering, protected sex, hinata being a sweetheart

~4.4k words, this is part 2, { part 1 here }

Hinata snapped his gaze back up, his entire face burning like a wildfire. "I—I wasn’t looking!" he blurted, immediately making it so much worse.

You blinked up at him, lips slightly parted, cheeks tinged pink. The way you were pinned beneath him, your body warm against his, your shirt still not fixed. The air between you turned thick, charged with something different—something neither of you had ever really faced before. Your legs shifted slightly beneath him, your skin brushing his in a way that sent a full-body shiver down his spine.He should move. You should.But for some reason, both of you couldn't.

Hinata wasn't thinking.

Or maybe he was. Maybe he was thinking too much—about the way you felt beneath him, about how warm your skin was where his hands had just been, about how your shirt was still bunched up, exposing way more than it should.

And before he could stop himself, the words just fell out.

"Have you…" He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "Have you done it before?"

Your entire body went still. "What?"

Hinata’s face explodednwith heat, but now that the words were out there, he couldn’t take them back. "You know… what happened in the movie earlier…"

The second realization hit you, your stomach flipped. "Shoyo." Your voice came out a little breathless, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite name. "Did you just ask me if I’ve—"

"NO—! I mean, yes—I mean—I DON'T KNOW!" Hinata panicked, throwing his hands over his face and backing away. "Forget I said anything!"

But how the hell were you supposed to forget that?!

Your heart was pounding, your breath uneven as you sat up and stared at him. "Why?" You smirked slightly, despite the heat rising to your own cheeks. "You wanna know for a reason?"

Hinata choked so hard he nearly toppled off the couch. "W-WHAT?! NO! THAT’S NOT—"

You leaned in slightly, watching him unravel with way too much amusement. "Then why’d you ask?"

"I don’t know!" His voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands. "It just— It just came out, okay?! I wasn’t thinking!"

You tilted your head, eyes glinting with mischief. "That means you were thinking about it at some point, though."

"STOP!" He whined, practically curling into himself. "Oh my god, why did I say that?!"

You laughed, but your heart was still racing. Because underneath all the teasing, the air between you felt different now.

The words slipped out before you could even think.

"Wanna do it?"

Silence.

Your heart stopped.

Your brain shut down.

Oh. Fuck.

THIS—this was not casual joking. Definitely not innocent. And the second you processed what had just come out of your mouth, your entire body locked up in horror.

You snapped your head toward Hinata, praying he hadn’t heard you—

But oh, he heard you.

His wide, amber eyes were locked onto yours, his face frozen in absolute shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He just sat there, staring, his mind clearly crashing.

The tension in the room skyrocketed. The air felt too thick, your own breathing unsteady.

You swallowed, your hands gripping the hem of your still-bunched-up shirt. "I—"

Hinata blinked. "Did you just—"

"NO!" you practically shouted, scrambling to fix what you just ruined. "I—I didn’t mean— That was a joke, obviously—obviously! Ha ha—*"

Hinata still wasn’t speaking.

"Shoyo, say something," you pleaded, face burning hotter than the sun.

Hinata suddenly let out the most awkward laugh you’d ever heard, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to shake off whatever this was. "Ha—haha— wow, uh… that was… something."

You groaned, covering your face with both hands. "Forget I said anything. Please. Just erase it from your memory forever."

But then—he moved closer.

Your hands dropped just in time to see Hinata leaning in, his usual nervous energy still there, but something else simmering beneath it. Something that made your breath hitch.

His voice came out lower than usual, hesitant but undeniably curious. "But… what if we do?"

Your stomach flipped.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Because—what?

Your heart pounded in your ears as his amber eyes locked onto yours, studying your face like he was trying to figure something out. His usual dorky grin was nowhere to be found—only a slight, almost teasing smirk tugging at his lips. He was joking. Right? He had to be.

Right?

But if it was a joke, why did he lean in just a little more? Why was his breath so warm against your skin? Why did his fingers twitch like he wanted to reach for you?

Your heart pounded against your ribs. This was Hinata. Your childhood best friend. The same Hinata who used to challenge you to ridiculous races, who laughed until he cried over the dumbest things, who once fell out of a tree trying to impress you.

Now he was looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Like he wanted to hear your answer.

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt. Your heart was practically hammering against your chest, your pulse roaring in your ears.

And then—without even thinking—

You nodded.

Hinata’s breath hitched. His eyes widened just slightly, amber flickering with something undeniably different.

Neither of you spoke. The weight of your answer settled between you, thick and heavy, making the air practically hum with something unspoken.

Hinata shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for just a second too long.

"You’re serious?" His voice was barely above a whisper. You exhaled shakily, unsure if you could even trust your own voice. But you managed the tiniest nod.

Hinata didn’t move for a moment, just staring at you, his lips parting slightly like he was trying to process what the hell was happening right now.

And then—

He leaned in.Hinata hesitated for just a second, his breath warm against your skin, his lips so close yet not quite touching. It was like he was giving you a chance to pull away, to take back your silent answer.

But you didn’t.

And that was all he needed. His lips brushed against yours—soft at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. But the second he felt you respond, a quiet exhale escaping you, something in him shifted.

His hand found your waist, warm and a little unsure, but steady enough to make your stomach tighten. His other hand hovered near your cheek, not quite touching but so close it sent a shiver down your spine.

This was Hinata. Your best friend. The boy who had been by your side for years.

And now he was kissing you.

A quiet, surprised hum slipped from your lips, and that sound alone seemed to undo him. His grip on your waist tightened just slightly, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss—still gentle, still careful, but undeniably real.

It wasn’t just a joke anymore. It wasn’t teasing.

It was happening. You tugged onto his hair as he as he deepened the kiss, going lower to your jaw and neck.

His fingers trailed across your back and shoulders before reaching into your hair again, tangling their way through your locks while his tongue teased along your collarbone.

You couldn’t help the soft noise that escaped your lips, and the second Hinata heard it, a quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. His face hovered just above yours, amber eyes dark with something unreadable.

"Sho…" you breathed, your fingers tightening slightly against his shirt.

"Yeah?" His voice was low, a little breathless, as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His expression softened, concern flickering behind the heat in his eyes, always wanting to make sure you were comfortable.

You hesitated for just a second before lowering your gaze, suddenly feeling so much shyer than before. "Can we… go to the bedroom instead?"

Hinata blinked, his lips parting in surprise. But then, as your words fully registered, a slow, almost mischievous smile tugged at his lips.

"Yeah," he murmured, nodding before standing up—only to suddenly scoop you up into his arms like you weighed nothing.

A surprised gasp left your lips as your feet left the ground, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "H-Hinata!"

"What?" He grinned down at you, eyes twinkling. "Gotta put all this muscle to good use, right?" Your heart flipped in your chest.

He carried you effortlessly into the room, his grip warm and secure as if he never wanted to let go. And when he finally set you down on the bed, he did it so gently, as if you were something precious—something he wanted to take his time with.

You barely had a moment to process the warmth creeping up your neck before he reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion. Your breath caught as you stared.

Hinata tossed his shirt aside and leaned over you, bracing himself on his arms. His toned chest, the sharp lines of muscle carved into his stomach, the definition in his arms—when the hell had he gotten so built?!

"What happened to that tiny little guy I used to know?" you teased, though your voice came out just slightly breathless.

Hinata smirked, his face lowering until his nose brushed against yours. "Guess I had a growth spurt."

His lips hovered just above yours again, his breath fanning against your skin.

"Want me to show you just how much I’ve grown?"Hinata’s smirk deepened at your flustered expression, and before you could even think of a response, he moved.

Slowly, deliberately, he dipped his head down, his lips barely grazing the sensitive skin of your jaw. A sharp inhale slipped from your lips, your fingers curling into the sheets as he trailed lower, so achingly slow it sent shivers down your spine.

Then—a kiss. Right at the base of your neck. Soft. Testing.

And then another.

Hinata exhaled against your skin, his breath warm, his lips pressing more firmly this time. A soft hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he felt you tense beneath him.

"Sho—" You bit your lip, your hands twitching, unsure where to place them as he continued his path downward.

Then, he sucked.

A startled gasp escaped you as his lips latched onto your neck, his teeth barely scraping against your skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue. His hands gripped your waist, holding you steady as he worked another mark just a little lower.

He wasn't stopping.

Another kiss. Another slow, teasing graze of his teeth. Another deep, lingering press of his lips, leaving behind warmth and a faint sting.

Your head tipped back, your breath uneven. "Hinata…"

He hummed against your skin, his lips curving into a knowing smile. "You called me Sho earlier," he murmured, pressing another kiss just below your ear. "I think I like that better."*

Hinata’s fingers ghosted beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch featherlight yet searing against your skin. Slowly, deliberately, his hand slid higher, tracing the curve of your waist before stopping just below your breasts.

Your breath hitched, your body tensing ever so slightly. He hesitated, amber eyes flickering up to meet yours, searching—asking a silent question.

You swallowed, your pulse pounding in your ears, and after a moment, you gave a slow, tentative nod. Something in his gaze darkened, but his lips curved into the softest, most reassuring smile.

"Okay," he murmured, his voice warm, steady.

Then, with aching slowness, he pushed your shirt higher, his fingers skimming over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He took his time, almost as if savoring the moment, before finally slipping the fabric over your head and tossing it aside.

Hinata’s breath caught. This was his first time seeing you like this.

His gaze roamed over you, admiration flickering across his face—like he wasn’t sure whether to blush, stare, or touch.

"Wow," he whispered, more to himself than to you. And just like that, the heat in your cheeks spread all throughout your body.

"Sho… I’m nervous," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Instinctively, your hands moved to cover your bare chest, a flush creeping up your neck.

Hinata’s gaze softened as he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek before cupping your face gently. "Hey," he murmured, his thumbs stroking soothing circles against your skin. "You’re beautiful. Inside and out."

Your heart fluttered in your chest.

Before you could even process the warmth pooling in your stomach, he leaned in, pressing soft, open mouth kisses along your jaw, trailing lower—down the column of your neck, across your collarbone, his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Your breath hitched when he dipped even lower, his hands tracing along your sides before his fingers grazed your sensitive nubs. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips.

Hinata paused, his warm breath fanning against your skin. "Tell me to stop if it’s too much, okay?" he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant.

And then—an experimental flick of his tongue.

A sharp inhale. Your fingers curled into the sheets beneath you as a quiet whimper escaped before you could stop it.

Hinata stilled for a moment, watching your reaction with something unreadable in his gaze, before he smiled.

"Guess I’m doing something right," he teased, his voice husky, before leaning in again.

Your cheeks burned, and you opened your mouth to respond—to say anything—but any words you had were lost when he dipped his head again, sucking teasingly as his other hand simultaneously twisted your sensitive nubs between his thumb and index finger.

"Nnnm!" you moaned, your whole body tensing as his tongue glided over your sensitive flesh as his fingers tugged at the waistband of your shorts. Your head fell back, your nails digging into his shoulders as another shudder rolled through your body. When he looked up at you, his eyes held something softer now.

"You okay?" he asked, searching your face as be slipped one hand in your shorts.

You swallowed, your fingers reaching up to thread through his messy orange locks. "Yeah," you breathed, your heart hammering as he trailed against your heat while maintaning eye contact with you. "You’re being really sweet, you know that?"

Hinata chuckled,"Well… it’s you," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "Of course I want to take my time and make sure your okay."

Hinata’s words sent a whole new kind of warmth rushing through you—one that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way he was looking at you. Like you were something precious. Like he wanted to memorize every single detail.

"aah–" a whimper escaped your lips as he slipped a finger inside. The sound and the sight made hinata groan as he felt his own dick twitch in his pants. fuck

He slowly slipped off your shorts while pumping his index finger in and out of you, trying not to rush things because fuck, he wanted you to have the most pleasure since he knew this was your first time. But god –dammit—his cock was getting harder by the second as he watched you squirm underneath him. The slight hitch in your breathing, the way your body trembled in his hands.

"mmhm shoyo.." Hinata bit his lip, his breath hitching at the soft, unfiltered sound that slipped from your lips. His grip on your thigh tightened as he increased his pace.

Your fingers curled into the bedsheets as his finger pumped in and out, one hand slipping higher along your side, grazing over your chest in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, just when you were about to come undone, he suddenly stopped.A whimper of protest left your lips before—

A sharp gasp.

Hinata pressed two fingers against your sensitive bud, applying just enough pressure to send a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. Your back arched off the bed, head tilting back as a strangled moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

"You’re incredible," he murmured, his voice husky, filled with something that made your skin burn. "I could do this all night."

~

Hinata hovered above you, his gaze searching yours, his breath slightly unsteady. His fingers traced soothing circles against your skin, as if grounding both of you in the moment.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked as he positioned himself, his voice softer now, tinged with both anticipation and concern.

You held his gaze, taking him in—the flushed cheeks, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the warmth in his eyes that made your heart stutter.

Then, slowly, you nodded. "I want this," you murmured, voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.

A breath you hadn’t realized he was holding escaped him, and his lips curled into the faintest, almost relieved smile. "Me too," he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against yours—soft, lingering, like he wanted to savor the moment.

"But wait a min—" Hinata scrambled off the bed, ruffling through his nightstand drawer with frantic determination. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching with a mix of amusement and curiosity as he dug through the clutter—receipts, old keychains, a half-empty pack of gum—before his fingers finally curled around a small foil packet.

Your eyebrows shot up. "Wait…" You sat up, pointing at the item in his hand. "You actually have one?"

Hinata turned to you, looking almost too proud of himself. "Of course I do!" he said, puffing out his chest slightly. "Gotta be prepared, right?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. "Uh-huh. And just when exactly were you planning to use it, Mr. Innocent?"

His confident facade instantly crumbled. "Wha—no! It’s not like that!" His face turned a deep shade of red as he waved the packet around defensively. "I just… I mean—it's been in there for a while! I didn’t even know I still had it!"

You raised a skeptical brow, lips twitching. "So you're telling me you've been hoarding a condom like some kind of secret treasure?"

"I- wasn’t hoarding it!" Hinata groaned, rubbing a hand over his face before shooting you a playful glare. "Are we really gonna have this conversation right now?"

You giggled, shaking your head. "I just never thought my best friend was so...prepared. "

Hinata huffed, throwing himself back onto the bed beside you. "Yeah, well," he muttered, shooting you a side glance, "you never thought we'd be here either, huh?"

Your breath caught, heart skipping a beat at the weight of his words. He wasn’t wrong. Hinata sat up, still slightly flustered but determined as he held the small packet between his fingers. You watched as he brought it to his mouth, gripping the edge with his teeth before tearing it open with an effortless pull.

Your eyes widened slightly. "Oh."

Hinata glanced at you, amusement flickering in his gaze as he tossed the wrapper aside. "What?" he asked, voice laced with playful confidence.

You blinked at him. "Nothing…" You paused before raising a brow. "Just didn’t expect you to look so—" You waved a hand vaguely, searching for the right word. "…experienced."

His cheeks tinted pink, but he smirked anyway. "Told you I’m prepared," he teased.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a small laugh. "Yeah, yeah… just get over here, ‘Mr. Prepared.’"

Hinata grinned, placing himself before your legs again, slipping the latex over his throbbing dick. "gladly" before he pushed in slowly, letting you get comfortable first.

You leaned your head back against the pillows, relaxing your jaw and eyes closing as he gently thrust forward—slow, deep

~

The next day you woke up to the feeling of something lightly brushing your face. Your eyes fluttered open to find hinata already awake.

"sorry, did I wake you up? you can sleep more if you want" he said caressing your cheek.

"hmm..give me a few minutes" you hummed in response.

Hinata let out a soft chuckle as you burrowed closer, your warmth seeping into him like the morning sun filtering through the curtains. "Take all the time you need," he murmured.

Hinata’s fingers traced lazy patterns along your back, his touch featherlight against your bare skin. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the sheets tangled around you both, a quiet reminder of everything that had happened last night.

Your face heated at the thought, and you instinctively curled closer, hiding in the crook of his neck. He let out a soft chuckle, his chest vibrating beneath you.

"Shy now, huh?" he teased, his voice still raspy from sleep. "You weren’t like this last night."

Your fingers twitched against his skin, and you groaned, lightly smacking his shoulder. "Don’t remind me."

"Why not?" He tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your temple. "I think it was kinda cute how you—"

"Sho!" You cut him off, reaching up to cover his mouth with your hand, your cheeks burning.

Hinata laughed against your palm before gently pulling your hand away, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright, alright, I’ll stop," he said, though the smirk on his lips told you otherwise.

As you lay in his arms, wrapped in the warmth of the morning, you hesitated for a moment before finally whispering, "This was my first time, you know…"

Hinata’s hold on you tightened slightly as he looked down, his expression softening. "Yeah?" he murmured, brushing his fingers against your cheek.

You nodded, feeling the heat rise to your face. "And I’m glad it was you."

His eyes widened slightly before a warm, boyish grin stretched across his face. "That’s kinda unfair," he said, voice laced with fondness.

You blinked. "Huh?"

"You keep saying cute things and expect me to just stay normal?" He chuckled, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Now I feel even luckier."

Your heart swelled at his words, but curiosity got the best of you. "Wait… what about you?" You hesitated. "Did you, um, y’know… with someone in Brazil?"

Hinata paused for a moment, blinking at you. Then, just as you were about to clarify, a sly smirk crept onto his face.

"Mmm… maybe," he hummed, stretching lazily. "There were a lot of pretty girls over there, you know…"

Your face immediately scrunched up, and without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked him with it. "You idiot!"*

"Ow—hey!" He laughed, shielding himself as you rained soft blows down on him. "I was kidding! I was kidding!"

You huffed, arms crossed, glaring at him. "Not funny."

"It was a little funny," he grinned, reaching for your wrists to stop your assault. "And for the record," he pulled you closer, his expression turning sincere, "you were my first too."

Your frustration faded as your eyes met his, warmth bubbling in your chest again. "Really?"

Just as you were about to relax again, he smirked. "And, well… you’re about to be my second time too."

You blinked. "Huh?"

Then you noticed the way his gaze darkened, a familiar heat behind his eyes as they trailed lower. That same look from last night—mischievous, wanting, hungry.

And that’s when it hit you.

In the middle of your little pillow fight, you had completely forgotten you were only wearing his unbuttoned shirt. And now that you were sitting up straight… you were practically on full display for him. Hinata swallowed hard, his shameless gaze lingering.

"Stop staring, you perv!" you yelped, grabbing the pillow again in a weak attempt to shield yourself.

But Hinata only laughed, effortlessly plucking the pillow from your grasp and tossing it aside. "Can you blame me?" he murmured, shifting closer, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you into his lap. "You’re literally sitting here, wearing nothing but my shirt, and you expect me to just—" He exhaled, resting his forehead against yours. "..not want you all over again?"

Your breath hitched.

Hinata’s hands moved up, fingers tracing light circles against your back, sending tiny sparks up your spine. You gulped, suddenly very aware of how close you were—his bare chest pressed against yours, his breath fanning against your lips, the way his grip on you tightened just slightly.

"Sho…" You whispered, your heart pounding in your ears.

He hummed in response, his hands sliding lower, squeezing your waist gently. "We don’t have to, y’know," he said, voice softer this time. "I just… really like being close to you."

Your fingers curled against his shoulders. "I… I like it too," you admitted, cheeks warm.

Hinata grinned, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek before murmuring against your skin, "Then let me hold you a little longer."

And just like that, you melted into him, letting yourself fall into the warmth of his embrace.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Based off of a comic that I swear to God I can't find. Soapghost where I think it is Ghost that slips a ring onto Soap tags and doesn't tell him. Only when someone pointed out to see freak out and ask what kind of proposal was that.

Anyways that but deadclaws courtesy of @shy-canadian-snowflake for starting off the idea and @orcadork4ever for helping

When the tags get thrown to the ground when Logan quits he pauses as he sees the ring. He stares wide eyed before taking the ring off and putting it on. He knows who did it but he's not here right now.

He leaves and when Wade finds the tags he sees the ring gone and smiles.

THEN THEN THEN AFTER EVERYTHING he put the ring on his new tags and where is it. But after the memory wipe half of what he is trying to learn about what happened to him is also about learning with a ring is from.

The idea of rogue when she's in the car looking at his tags and seeing the ring 😭😭😭

Does Jean still try to make moves despite it? What happens what do people think?

"Does it count as cheating if you don't even know who the ring belongs to?" Then Logan getting pissed because he might not know where it belongs. But he sure as hell knows the feeling of love he gets when he looks at it.

What about the other people whispering about how someone could ever marry someone like him

Logan has no idea where the ring came from but somewhere in the recesses of his mind he feels so much love for whoever the ring is from.

He knows whoever gave it to him means the word to his past self so he wouldn't dare taint it

I also imagine this is a similar universe to the other fic where Wade is in the X-Men movies.

So Wade but not origins just ends up our normal Wade. He's probably searching for Logan too

Rogue being so curious about the ring and asking incessantly. In Logan not so secretly hopes it will jog something in his memory.

Out of everything Rogue pities Logan for the ring is the worst one. How horrible it is that something so special to him is lost from his memory. How dare the world take away this obvious source of happiness.

Imagine her finding Logan outside one night crying silently as he clutches at the ring and muttering curses at the world for taking away the love of his life 😭

Rogue demanding Xavier to figure it out because Logan doesn't fucking deserve to be dragged along with the carrot on the stick being his happiness

Od-

Xavier tries to use the essence from the ring but can’t find him because he’s mutated by now and shows up different he tells Logan he can’t find him and they take that to mean he’s dead

He just lives in a haze. Going through day to day. He knows by now that he can’t kill himself anyways, even though he wants to. He’s lived this long in misery before, he can keep doing it.

He hears about Deadpool and goes along with Colossus and NSTW to make sure this guy isn’t a total fuckhead.

Seeing him fight… there’s something so familiar about it. A dancer’s grace, the lethality and deliberateness of his movements.

He watches as Colossus warns him about not taking the life of the man who tortured him. Already knowing it’s a lost cause even not knowing the backstory. Whatever this fucker did, he deserves it.

Snorts to himself when Deadpool just shoots the guy in the head. A snicker cutting off short at the harsh call of “Wade!”

“Wade…?”

This close he can hear him. Hear the constant stream of innuendos and puns. And it comes flooding back. All of it. Nights spent pressed together on a too small cot in the too hot jungle heat. Slipping off to swim in the river. Promises breathed against parted lips of a future and forever.

Dropping to all fours he gallops at Deadpo- at Wade. His Wade, knocking him over and sending the two of them tumbling.

“Whoa! What the fuck?!”

Sobs ripping out of the yellow mass gripping him, a ragged and familiar “Wade!” making him freeze. “L-Lo? Is it really…!”

Logan ripping off his gloves and cowl with tears streaming down his face. “They made me forget. I forgot. I didn’t know who it came from but I still Knew”

Wade watched him in awe, his mask growing wet with his own tears as he reached to hold Logan’s hand with the ring. “You kept it…~”

“Of fucking course I kept it. You gave it to me.”

Me: Logan's face just buried into Wade's scare neck as he sobs and clutches at his back. Wade isn't much better off as he claws at Logan's back in a vain attempt to crawl inside the other man

Wade hesitantly stopping Logan when he goes to take his mask off. “It’s not what you remember, Peanut.”

“Good thing I don’t remember. It’s just you”

Me: the others watch on is stunned silence because this is the most emotion they had seen either man exhibit ever

Vanessa watching from the side and just crying in joy for her friend. She’s his best friend. They fuck around, but they’re friends first. He’s spent many a-night whispering to her about his Logie Bear

Me:

She then devoted herself to trying to help him find Logan but got caught in the crossfire

Logan couldn't be fucking happier. He won't let Wade out of his grasp and doesn't plan to for a long while.

The X-Men can't comprehend it. This was Logan the man who hated people just existing. Why is he now sobbing into a mercenaries neck?

Od:

Colossus being the one Adult insisting that Vanessa come to the mansion to be checked out and make sure she’s okay.

Logan and Wade settled into each other in the back seat of Dopinder’s car with Ness in the front

Me:

"lo lo fuck." Wade mutters as he pulls back to cup Logan's face. Logan just melts into Wade's grapes and he purrs fucking purrs. LOGAN DIDN'T KNOW HE COULD DO THAT!!

"There is the good kitty I have missed so much."

Od: They’re just in each other’s laps, completely tangled together

Logan just purrs harder to the point he coughs and Wade just laughs delightedly and pepper kisses across Logan's face.

Logan's claws sneak out when Wade pulls back slightly and Wade gasps as he grabbed at Logan's hand. "What??? Metal?! What happened baby??"

Logan just blinks stupidly up at him. "I don't remember." Wade frowns and pulls Logan close

Od: “It’ll be okay. We’re okay. Were together. You’re here. Fuck, I missed you so much. There’s so much I have to tell you.”

"it doesn't matter what happened right now. What matters is your here. We can figure out everything else later."

Od: “Exactly. Fuck, Lo. Can I kiss y-“ just getting cut off by Logan pouncing and kissing him senseless, the two of them laying down in the backseat

Rogue is beyond extatic when Logan comes in with wide wonder filled eyes dragging a man behind him. She knew then this was who the ring was tied to and she wasted no time launching herself at him in excitement.

"YOU DID IT YOU DID IT!! LOGAN YOU FOUND YOUR OTHER HALF!"

Logan just hold her close as he cries silently into her hair before yes he did.

Od: “Omg Lo-Lo! You have a kiddo?! I knew you were Daddy material, both ways~ I’m Wade~”

Rogue is definitely surprised by Wade. She must admit she hadn't expected someone like him to be who Logan had tied himself to. However the way they looked at one another and interacted was undeniable

Jean and Scott are LIVID and discussed because really this? THIS?! Was who Logan had chosen all those years ago??

Od: Wade: Wow. Jealous, judgmental, AND prejudiced. Yall are the whole fucking package ain’t ya.

Rouge does not take kindly to them. She had quickly become super protective of Wade. She had quite a few times tore into them for daring mess with what she had worked for for years

Od: Rogue: He wasn’t yours even then. You do not get to shit all over his happiness!

Rouge: have you ever seen him smile like that??? Have you ever heard him purr??? No? I didn't think so. So why are you plotting against him?

(You might get more later but that's it for now)

[cakeinpants]

Previous

***

He, Pat, a Mudokon, stood right in front of the CEO of the Palace herself.

"So, Oddett... I've heard you and Mr. Jabodo got into a bit of a.. disagreement. And that preparations for your next performance aren't going so smoothly..." The Oktigi inquired. "I would like to hear what you have to say about that..."

Her drone companion, Maximus, stood by her side as always. He avoided eye contact with the dancer and looked pale.

Overwhelmed and intimidated by talking with a person of such authority, Pat tried his best to keep composure and sound clear and confident. He was in disbelief that Delvona actually decided to hear him out. He had nothing to depend on but his words now, and there was nothing left for him to do but to speak his truth, and hope that his value to the Palace might help him be heard.

"Madame Delvona... I sincerely hope for your understanding. I can not continue working in the conditions that Mr. Jabodo is putting me through."

"Jabodo is a respected art director and trainer of the Palace." Delvona argued. "There's never been any problems before." (At least, problems that weren't covered up for him, but she wasn't going to mention that, of course.)

"The things he's asking from me are far beyond what I'm willing to do. Not out of selfishness, but out of respect for my art and for what my Master taught me..."

The Qktigi thoughtfully put a tentacle to her cheek.

"Now... I want to give you a chance to come to an agreement. I'll ask Mr. Jabodo to be.. easier with you." The Oktigi offered. "I suggest you go back to training and we forget about this little misunderstanding. It'll be for the best for all of us."

"I'm sorry, Madame Delvona.. I don't think I can accept that offer."

Delvona's eyes narrowed.

"What are you expecting, then?"

"I-if..." That was a bold move but he had to try. "If you could grant me the permission.. I can work for the Palace as an independent contractor."

"Absolutely not. That's out of the question." She declined sharply barely letting the dancer finish speaking. "A Mudokon can't be working here on independent conditions."

"But it's possible-"

"Not in practice, it's not."

"I can make it work! It won't affect preparations for concerts. I'll still be attending the same rehearsals.. All I'm asking for is some freedom of action and I will give you results in return-"

"I said it's NOT an option. I can't have that kind of reputation for the Palace."

The dancer swallowed nervously.

"In that case the only thing I can suggest is that you let me go. I'm ready to resign from my duties as the Palace's Principal Dancer."

For a split second Delvona's face lost it's imperturbable expression.

"Resign?"

"Yes. Send me wherever else. Sell me to a different owner or company.. I know there's people who are ready to offer a lot."

"If you think things are bad for you here, you're not ready for how they'll be if you leave." The Oktigi warned. "Are you trying to bargain with me?"

"Not at all. Whatever your decision, I will accept it humbly, even if you find my behaviour prompts punishment.. but the only thing I will refuse to do is continue my work in current situation."

Madame Delvona went silent, seemingly pondering something. She then calmly exhaled.

"Now you will listen to me, and you will listen carefully. I offer you two options...

Option one — you will return to your duties as normally and we forget this conversation ever happened. You will perform and you will never speak of this again.

Option two..." She nodded somewhere to the side...

The dancer's blood ran cold as he felt the cold touch of steel against his head.

"... you're not leaving this room."

Gun.

One of the guard Sligs held a gun to the dancer's head.

Maximus flinched and almost yelled out at the slig to stop. But Delvona's ties were stronger than instinct. He stopped himself, staying quiet by the Oktigi's side with a terrified look.

"You see, Patrick, I can't let you get into anyone else's hands. Not to mention what news of you leaving to work for someone else will do to our reputation... I'm not dealing with all that trouble.

It will, on the other hand, be much easier to make it look like an unfortunate, tragic accident...

A brilliant dancer lost to grief for his Master not long after the tragedy... devastated devotees competing for last records of his dancing in Palace's possession... And the rebels are to blame for it all." She painted an imaginary picture.

"The Palace won't ever let you go.

Do you understand?"

The mudokon stood frozen, unable to utter a word.

"Take off your shirt."

With shaking hands, the dancer unbuttoned his shirt. The cloth dropped to the floor, revealing the pale skin of his torso and a serial code tattoo on his lower back...

"ODDTT001VL"

Property of The Palace.

"First position." The Oktigi commanded.

The mudokon complied, taking the ballet stance.

"Perform the White Bird variation."

His body started mechanically reciting the memorised movements. His hands trembled, and his eyes were full of fear and defeat, yet even in this moment it showed how perfected his technique was. But it looked so wrong. Unnatural even.

Delvona watched attentively. She waited for the dancer to complete the whole variation before she spoke again:

"Very good. That's much better.

Now. You have a fitting scheduled in a few hours with our new buiseness partners... You're going to go, get yourself together and get ready. You're going to show up and act normally. And you're going to look good.

Instructions clear?"

"Yes, Madame Delvona..." The mudokon bowed.

... He lost.

[bigsoggyboots]

Ephemeral

.

Cowgirl!Sev × Black!CityGirl! Reader

random disclaimer: sorry I dipped for like 2 weeks. I encountered major writers block for the first time and went through a stressful 2 weeks of school. Now I'm sick, had to miss a day and a half of school, and wrote this. You could probably tell what I was reading to have me make an idea like this LMAO.

wc: 774

cw: mentions of drinking.

I referenced so many songs I have to put a list:

SAY SOMETHING - TWICE

Brave - TWICE

Green Eyes -Erykah Badu

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You - Erykah Badu

SAPPY - RED VELVET

an: I said a lot already but the image below is one i edited using Picsart for the first time. It's free to use lol.

“Who woulda’ thought..” Sevika's words brought you away from the scenery before you. She still looked ahead, gripping your hand a little tighter. “..that all I needed was a city girl to show me this.”

You looked ahead, at the rain you both couldn't bear to look away from, then back at her. “Show you what?”

You saw a smile creep on her face before a chuckle left her. “How to find contentment in the mundane.” You blink in surprise. “You think I ever sat and watched the rain with anyone else?”

You turn and feel the blush fill your cheeks as you watch the rain she was talking about. You hated when this happened; when you'd get flustered and grow acutely aware of every sensation. And fortunately so, Sevika did that to you.

Since the day she reeled you in on her horse to now in the early foggy morning on her porch swing.

God, it's a love-hate feeling.

You knew she was watching you, those perfect steel eyes swallowing you whole. She was waiting for you to say something.

‘Please say something you blundering fool.’

“I know the feeling,” You smile, your gaze meeting hers. Neither one of you looked away. “I hadn't known something like that until I met this girl.” Sevika grimaced at your words, the huff leaving her making you chuckle.

“The work I had to do was long, hard, and exhausting. Day in and day out, I did damn near the same things. Wake up, eat, feed the animals, do chores, sleep, repeat.” You saw the way her face softened. You'd be lying if you said it wasn't heartwarming. “I was bored of it all.”

She gripped your hand a little tighter, egging you on. She scooted in closer. Maybe a wrists length away from you now. If you weren't so desperate to kiss her, you wouldn't have calculated that so fast.

“Then there was this one night in the barn. We both got drunk as shit, and she told me all her secrets that night.” Sevika forgot about that. She thought you did too. You told her the day after you did. Liar. “I don't think I'll ever forget that night. The blush on her face, the open wrinkly shirt,” Your eyes trace around her lips. “the smeared lipstick on her lips.” You played a dangerous game there and Sevika chuckled at your bravery.

“Anyways, the night was boring. But, for the first time, I loved it.”

The rain picked up and so did Sevika's smile. You've never seen her so open with you, and the comfort that it brought you was better than any touch could ever give.

“I wanted to live in that night for the rest of my nights. I've never wanted to drink with anyone else but that country girl.”

The rain filled the silence the two of you didn't bother to disturb. What else more could be said? 3 years of feelings were just spat into the air. You couldn't feel simultaneously more uncomfortable and so proud of yourself.

Yet, you both still held the same distance. You feel the shaking in her hand as she forces her hand to still.

Why is she shaking? Why is she waiting?

Then it hit you.

She's waiting for permission.

“Kiss me? Please?” Your voice comes out in an embarrassing squeak. Her lips encapsulates yours before you can even think.

☆

Southern drawl soothes you, puffy lips infuse you, and Ms. Cowgirl can't take her eyes off of you. Nothing but you.

Sevika's too good to be true. You wish you could remember how many kisses were being exchanged, out of either happiness or lust, so you could possibly keep it somewhere in the back of your mind.

“You're smotherin’ me.” You joke as the dogs bark. Even they grew tired of your sappy shenanigans.

The sun peeked out now, the sunrises glow decorating itself on you and Sevika's complexion. It was beautiful seeing how the sun creeped on your figures.

Sevika didn't bother to say a thing, pressing one more quiet kiss to your collarbone. While you stared ahead, Sevika kept her gaze to you. Her laugh was mischievous, prying your gaze away for a moment.

You feel something being placed on your head, and as you felt the object, you realized what Sevika was missing.

Her hair was free now, a little ruffled with small fly-aways; and now she could hardly contain the smirk forming.

Ephemeral was this moment. In your mind, you took a million snapshots as she said her next words.

“You're mine beautiful. And I'm yours. Ain't nothin’ gon’ change that.”

☆

[nekoyin]

so I saw this at class, did it, thought I posted it, turns out I didnt so TAKE TWO

ty for the tag <3 I'm gonna do my husband of almost a decade now Poe Dameron

1. Was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made them your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you? lowkey fell in love with that pretty ass face from the start THEN HE OPENED HIS MOUTH AND WAS SASSY??? also love me a man who'd punch a person in power that's hot 

2. What’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo? uh uh uh yes (if I had to choose, his passion and want to free people from the First Order/the fact he's a revolutionary)

3. What's the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo? the fact he's not real and kissing me rn :( (and that he risks his life a lot of the time to try and save as people as he can, it's noble, but it worries me ;;;;)

4. If you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them? I love you. I'll always support you no matter what UNLESS YOU GO ONE SOME STUPID SUICIDE MISSION DON'T DIE I'LL CRY :(((

5. What's the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo? I think that Poe being a flirt is a thing, but I don't see him being like this fuckboy that lays with people and doesn't care/forgets names afterwards. He seems the type to remember everyone's names, whether or not he is friends with them enough to sleep with them if that makes sense. 

6. Is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert? Extrovert 

7. Describe your Blorbo in 3 words. pretty, brave, dumb (affectionate)

8. If your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life? Yes. Absolutely. He seems the protective type so I am SAFE

9. Do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo? THEY ARE SO FED UP WITH ME YAPPING ABOUT HOW MUCH I LOVE HIM LMFAO 

10. Is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely? Nah bro i lowkey like my men a lil insane so

11. Do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer? Mixed. Cuz I like angst, but I need a happy ending. 

12. Do you ship your Blorbo with any character? ME DUH (and kinda Finn but I relate to Finn a lot so what that say bout us)

13. If your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?  YAH he was my introduction to Oscar Isaac

14. Would you still love your Blorbo if they were real? YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND. HOW BAD. I AM TRYING TO GET A REAL LIFE POE DAMERON TO DATE. PLEASE UNIVERSE ONE CHANCE ONE-

15. Is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon? Yes imo and it makes me so so sad :(

16. If you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be? I think I'd change the fact that he tried to get back with Zorii, I don't mind her existence, but she was literally abusive POE BABY WHY ARE YOU ASKING TO KISS HER YOU SHOULD BE KISSING ME :(((

17. When you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo? Oh I was torn between him and Kylo initially, but I knew I'd like Poe more for longer… didn't really expect this long though HAHAHA

18. Do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo? I TRY TO BUT HE'S TOO POPULAR :( People are like “oh I'm his biggest fan/spouse” and I'm like GET OUT YOU JUST JOINED THIS FANDOM IVE BEEN HERE SINCE DAY ONEEEEE /hj

19. Has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry? Thinking about him can make me cry. I'm trying to write a fic rn that the PREMISE made me cry (I’m sensitive)

20. Do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now? I'VE BEEN HERE ALMOST TEN YEARS BABY IT AIN'T EVER STOPPING

uhh idk who to tag but @latenightbrawler pookie look at the thoughts about my husband

20 Questions

BLORBO ASKS GAME

reblog if you’d like people to send you asks about your Blorbo

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made them your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

It was immediate. Watching Steven flounder then discovering the tragedy that is Marc. I started on the show, then began collecting the comics.

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

I loved the representation of DID, autism and childhood trauma.

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

We barely got any Jake in the show, and he’s such a fantastic character in the comics. Comic Jake is the only way I can imagine him. Moustache and all.

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

Not a thing. He’d get a damn hug.

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

I think every adaptation is unique to that person and they’re wonderful for sharing. I’m a hoe for every crumb I’m not even sorry.

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

Depends who’s fronting. Steven’s an ambivert: extroverted to avoid the feeling of loneliness, introverted in his hobbies and day-to-day. Marc’s a huge introvert and doesn’t like many people, how Frenchie puts up with him I don’t know. Jake is a natural extrovert, it comes easy to him to find a friend in anyone.

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

Damaged hot mess

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

Most likely… kinda. Squinting real hard at you, Khonshu.

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

My partner can’t get away from my obsession. My brother brought me the same MK action figure Marc's holding in the asylum. It was really unexpected and touching. They let me drag them all over the city stopping in as many comic stores as I could visit.

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

Mean to animals would make me very sad.

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

Every damn day of the week.

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

I ship him with anyone and everyone, it’s such a problem. I love all ships in all shapes and sizes. All the new ships coming out of Marvel Rivals has sustained me well lately.

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

Oscar Isaac is one of the best humans alive. I love his face, his personality—everything. He made it easy to love the characters he plays.

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

Probably. I’d always be rooting for him that’s for sure.

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

Kind of. How they handled Jake suucked.

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

Make comics Jake canon!

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

I didn’t expect to go down as bad as I did. It wasn’t until I started writing him in 1x1 & group roleplays was where I truly fell down the hole.

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

No gatekeeping allowed in this house! I am thrilled anytime more people discover MK by any means. It’s so much fun seeing new people arrive and interact with the fandom.

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

Not a fanfic, but episode 5 made me ball. Hit close to home. I’m not one to cry easily so have yet to find a fanfic that will.

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

Probably, I still have a lot more to write and explore.

Questions posted below empty for easy copy paste:

was there any specific point / any specific moment that suddenly made them your Blorbo, or did you slowly grow to love them more and more until they became a Blorbo to you?

what’s the thing you love the most about your Blorbo?

what’s the thing you dislike the most about your Blorbo?

if you could talk to your Blorbo, what would you say to them?

what’s the one thing the fandom gets wrong about your Blorbo?

is your Blorbo an introvert or extrovert?

describe your Blorbo in 3 words

if your Blorbo were real, would you trust them with your life?

do you talk to your family or in-real-life friends about your Blorbo?

is there any crime, any wrongdoing your Blorbo could commit that would make you stop loving them and remove them from your hyperfixation entirely?

do you like seeing your Blorbo suffer?

do you ship your Blorbo with any character?

if your Blorbo is from a live-action media, are you also a fan of the actor who plays them?

would you still love your Blorbo if they were real?

is your Blorbo a victim of badly written script / bad plot / character assassination in the hands of canon?

if you could change one canonical thing about your Blorbo, what would it be?

when you first discovered your Blorbo, did you realize from that moment that they would become your Blorbo?

do you gatekeep your Blorbo? / would you want more people to know about your Blorbo?

has a fanfic about your Blorbo ever made you cry?

do you think this character will still be your Blorbo three years from now on?

Inspired by the wonderful @psycheetamore Hitting a few others I'd love to see do this! @mystra-midnight @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @faretheeoscar @moonbeammist @therapardalis @weheartchrisevans @silvermoon343

[uncanny-tranny]

On the "darker" side of being comforted by one's immortality (not in the physical, but metaphorical), I've always been comforted by bone needles.

The idea that even after death, you've still been remembered by how you are used. No, bone needles probably weren't used with human bones, but it's a reminder that you aren't just going to... disappear. I'm comforted in the knowledge that I don't end in a "me" but in a "we," in nature. Everything about me is reused material so much more ancient than I am, and knowing that, I feel so much closer to the world.

[atgvnpoint]

Right now, Richard wasn't his concern anymore. If Benji was honest, then he had to admit that Ludovic was way more of a concern right now. Quickly, he reached for a tissue from his pocket to wipe off the blood stains from his fingers first, then from the back of his neck. With the tissue in his hand, he moved up until it touched the little laceration. A sharp, stinging pain went through his entire body. Benji flinched a bit and hissed softly. He could already feel how his head started throbbing, but he tried to ignore it. Ludovic will already have a heart attack seeing how Benji had to force his curls to disappear. It'll take Benji a long shower to get rid of the hairspray. ❝Angelo is a good man, you can trust him. He raised me and he protects me. It may doesn't look like that at first, but he does it in a very subtle way so my father won't notice that he is manipulated at times. Without him, I wouldn't be alive anymore.❞ Even though he said it lightly, there was a painful truth to it. For now, Benji could only hope that Jace makes it out of this whole thing alive and unharmed. He should talk to Ludovic later about this damn idea.

❝Yeah, I know. But it's not the first time he targeted my head. I'm lucky that I have a thick skull, I guess.❞ Again, Benji tried to joke a bit despite the situation being serious. Once more, he wiped off all the blood before putting the stained tissue aside. He hummed softly, listening to Jace's plan, and nodded a few times. ❝Okay. We do it like that. You talk, I nod and agree. No mentioning Richard. Got it.❞ He turned his head to face Jace with a smile and nodded again. ❝Ready. Let's meet the bloodhound. Maybe my looks will distract him enough. He has never seen me with sleek hair like that.❞ Benji winked at Jace before he unfastened his seat belt. Taking one deep breath, Benji opened the door and got out of the car. ❝Babe~~~❞ Spotting Ludo from afar wasn't hard. His man was handsome as ever and he made Benji forget about his headache right away. ❝May I introduce you to my new bodyguard?❞ Benji gestured at Jace with a knowing grin. ❝Oh wait, you know him already, don't you?!❞

Theoretically no business hot shot should create a scene, not when you were this important figure to other potential collaborators or investors. Benji's father had to really sell it but also see the realistic parts of negotiations ; not all were great investments and Benji probably saw flaws himself. Jace wondered why was Richard at the top when clearly his head was so far up his ass, why couldn't he see that his son saw their worth and not all transactions resulted in great results. This was is first time on the job and anything could go wrong. Clearly Richard is furious that things didn't go to plan but if he only had a little bit of faith on his own son, things would play out great in the end. Benji was resilient, strong anyone in his position would probably run away or show weakness. He didn't. Jace admired that, showing on ounce of fear or weakness to your aggressor in this case his own father has been a good decision for however long this sort of tension has been going on. While Richard and Angelo continued their argument, he and Benji left.

"I've deal with men like your father Benji, it's really no biggie. I know how to deal with them and sound convincing enough, after all i'm here to protect you. I know you don't need protecting but it's a favor to Ludovic. While some might think your father is some scary ogre, your boyfriend is much scary -- whatever he's planning it's not for nothing. Thanks for putting in a good word, however, i think i made a good statement back there. Angelo is probably the only one i'd want to impress, he seems like a chill guy." He stated as he drove back to the mansion while also looking over at Benji with a worried expression on his features. "Yeah, i bet you did. Richard doesn't look like the affectionate and sweet father. You might not have broken bones but hitting you against the head is also worse. Many people die or turn insane." He said while looking back at the road, taking a detour to meet with Ludovic, Jace sighed. "We can say we fought some dudes off while you were negotiating, a business deal gone wrong. And we have to sound convincing enough because Ludovic can smell lies from afar, that guy is a bloodhound." Sucking air through his teeth. "But hey there's nothing bad about having others protecting you, better than not have no one at all. And let me do the talking you just agree and explain things without throwing Richard in the mix." he nodded and after a long ride in silence they finally made it to Ludovic. "ready?"

[oniro]

Why do i keep dreaming about girls i don't talk to

[sai-int]

fwb!simon, reader catches feelings- NO. FWB!SIMON BUT SIMON CATCHES FEELINGS. [ pt 2 ]

--

it's quite simple.

simon comes home from a mission, he's restless, twitching, pacing, can't figure out what to do with his hands.

so what does he do? he knocks on your door, waiting anxiously until you open it and he's scooping you up, hauling you across the hall and into his basically empty apartment, and fucking you into the mattress for the night.

and you're just so good at taking it—whatever he gives you and whenever he gives it. you cry, whine, beg and plead for his cock in all the ways you know how—until you go blue in the face—and simon fucking revels in it. he's all harsh words and degrading names, calling you a filthy slut, his cocksleeve, a fucking cumdump—you name it, he's probably said it.

it's perfect, until it's not.

he's spent months fucking you stupid, night after night. he fucks you even when he's not restless. he fucks you when he's bored, when he's lonely. especially when he's lonely.

simon riley's a gridlocked man. hardly anything ever gets past him, but it didn't take many rendezvous between your thighs for him to forget that.

his mask would come fully off—not just above his lips—and you'd still kiss him breathless, still scream his name until your throat went hoarse. you weren't afraid of everything underneath. if anything, you liked it.

It's not like the both of you frequently exchanged actual conversations, but he could tell by the way you dripped and soaked his sheets even more than you ever had.

after that, he even began to gather enough courtesy to let you get some rest after he fucks you, letting you stay wrapped in his sheets for whatever sliver of the night was left.

you never pushed, and that's what he liked most about you. you always went by his terms because you never really cared as long as you got fucked six ways from sunday.

so, you always left when he woke without a problem. that was the arrangement and you were more than fine with getting a good fuck only a few steps away from your own home.

then even you began to notice the shift.

simon could never fuck you badly, per se. but he began to fuck you more softly. tenderly, as if he was suddenly aware that humans shouldn't be bent in half as long he's had you pinned underneath him in the past. he'll rock his hips into you with similar fervor, but he'd caress you, rather than grab at you. hold your forehead to his, rather than choke you with his thick hands.

then came the praise. god, it's like fucking a completely different man. from one week to the next, you're no longer a slut or a hole, you're pretty girl and angel. it makes your head spin. you try to pinpoint the change and why it happened, but you can't. somehow, you cum twice as hard now.

it all came to an ugly head when he spent the better part of 2 hours between your thighs, moaning and groaning as if you were doing him a service.

now, you weren't going to complain, but love just wasn't in the cards for you right now, and the looks simon was giving you from where he lapped at your cunt were filled with adoration, like he was waiting for you to tell him how good he was doing.

hell, you could see a phantom tail wagging each time his eyes met your own. and after a session that felt more like making love than an explosion of pure lust, you could feel his eyes lingering on you as you slipped your panties back on.

"what?" you hum, not wanting to face him in fear you'd see that godforsaken look in his eyes again.

and you were right, because he's staring at you like he's about to drop to one knee. "nothin'."

you toss your shirt back over your head and steel yourself as you turn to face him.

"simon," you start and he's already hanging on your words, "what's going on with you lately? i don't mean to sound rude but—"

this is it, he thinks. it has to be now, or nothing will change. he's not a religious man, but if he's ever prayed to god for anything, it's for this to become something real.

"'m in love with ya."

one blink, then two. two to three, three to four. you stare at him as you try to piece together what he's saying.

"simon, i don't think you understand—"

"—i do. i do understand and i want ya, bad. so bad, i can't even stop thinkin' bout ya, sweetheart. even when y'not 'ere im thinkin' about ya. everything about y'is perfect, and i don't think i can function without y'with me."

this is the most emotion you've ever seen out of simon and it rocks you to your core. if you didn't know better—and if the lighting wasn't so dim—you'd think he was tearing up.

you didn't know how to break it to him.