#Fiery Euphoria

[candylandphotos]

Fire Dancing Breathing Circus

"Ethereal Flames: The Enchanting Performance of Fire Dancing in a Breathing Circus."

[kathaelipwse]

Set Me Off || J.Wooyoung

Pairing: Wooyoung (ATEEZ) x Actress.Idol!Reader

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 7242 words : Reading Time: 26-ish mins

Trope: Idol x Actress | Slow Burn to Lovers | Hidden Relationship | He Falls First and Harder

Warnings: Mild language, mentions of hate comments, slow-burn tension, eventual mild intimacy (towards the end)

Synopsis: Everyone knows you as the queen of K-dramas, always cast in sweet romance roles. But your gritty new action film flips the script—and catches the attention of ATEEZ’s Wooyoung, who’s instantly obsessed. What starts as admiration turns into something deeper as secret messages, live chemistry, and late-night confessions unfold. Fame might complicate things… but love? That’s the real headline.

Author’s Note: This is my love letter to powerful women, supportive men, and the chaos that comes when celebrity crushes turn mutual. Expect flirty tension, viral moments, soft love, and a lot of heart.

Request are open <3

The award show pulsed with manufactured euphoria. Sequins shimmered under the relentless assault of camera flashes, a galaxy of idols clustered beneath the stage lights, their attention divided between the ongoing performances and hushed predictions of who would clutch the coveted trophies. It was the usual orchestrated spectacle: saccharine romance trailers that elicited polite applause, glossy cosmetic brand ads promising unattainable perfection, dramatic teasers hinting at future on-screen turmoil. Fluff and glitter, meticulously curated for maximum impact.

Then, the manufactured brilliance fractured.

The house lights bled out, plunging the auditorium into sudden darkness. A collective murmur rippled through the crowd, a momentary suspension of the carefully constructed reality.

The colossal screen, which had moments before showcased smiling faces and glistening products, dissolved into an absolute, consuming black.

And then your trailer began.

A cacophony of sound ripped through the silence: the sharp, concussive reports of gunshots, the high-pitched whine of tires fighting for traction, the chillingly distinct shick of a blade being drawn from its sheath. And then, you materialized. Stepping into the frame as if conjured from the shadows, clad in a black leather jacket that seemed to absorb the remaining light. Your eyes, sharp and assessing, cut through the darkness. Your lips, painted a defiant blood red, curved into a dangerous smile, a flicker of untamed fire dancing in their depths.

"Target acquired," a voice, low and husky – hers – drawled from the screen. The camera shifted, revealing her perched on a rain-slicked rooftop, a silhouette against the artificial twilight. Black leather molded to her form, a gun holstered with lethal grace against her thigh. Her eyes, lined with a stark precision, mirrored your own intensity. Her lips, too, were curved in a knowing smirk.

The entire auditorium held its breath. The low hum of conversation had vanished, replaced by a profound, almost reverent silence. The collective memory of your previous roles – the sweet ingenue clutching a notebook, the girl blushing over a tentative first kiss – seemed to evaporate into the charged atmosphere.

The images on screen shifted with brutal efficiency. You, a whirlwind of controlled violence, flipping a man twice your size with effortless ease, sending him crashing through a pristine marble table. You, a figure of fierce determination, shooting your way out of a towering high-rise as lightning split the stormy sky. You, smirking, a smear of blood a stark crimson against your flawless cheekbone, your beauty amplified by the raw power you exuded. You were terrifying. And undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

"Tell heaven I sent you," she murmured, her voice a silken threat before the deafening roar of an explosion ripped through the sound system. A car erupted in a fiery inferno behind her as she turned and walked away, her silhouette unwavering against the blaze. And then – another explosion, closer this time, the screen erupting in a blinding, white-hot flash. “Blood Petals” – A Netflix Original. Coming Soon.

Silence hung heavy in the air for a beat, two beats, an eternity.

Then, the dam broke.

A collective gasp swept through the auditorium, a wave of pure shock rippling through the assembled stars. A smattering of hesitant cheers broke out, quickly swallowed by the dominant sense of stunned disbelief.

ATEEZ? Their usual boisterous energy seemed to have been momentarily suspended. They sat frozen, eyes glued to the now-blank screen.

Wooyoung? He was a statue carved from disbelief. Utterly silent, his eyes blinked slowly, as if trying to process a reality that had just violently overwritten his expectations. It was as if his entire definition of an ideal had just materialized on screen, holding a grenade and a vendetta.

“Bro,” San whispered, nudging his arm gently. “Was that… her?”

“She just killed five guys and licked blood off her thumb,” Mingi muttered, his eyes wide and unfocused. “I didn’t know I was into that, but apparently, I am.”

Wooyoung remained unresponsive, his brain seemingly undergoing a complete system reboot. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he breathed, “She’s so hot I think I blacked out for a second.”

And then – your cue.

Blinding spotlights flooded the stage, cutting through the residual darkness. You stepped into the incandescent glow, a vision ripped straight from the aesthetic of your trailer. Your gown, the color of deep red wine, clung to your figure like liquid night, sculpted to every curve and angle. The gloves reached past your elbows, adding an air of dangerous elegance, while the slit in the skirt climbed high enough to steal the breath from every lung in the room. Your hair was slicked back, revealing the sharp angles of your face, your expression a study in cool, lethal grace.

Every single eye in the auditorium was fixed on you.

Including his.

Wooyoung watched, his mouth slightly agape, as if you had indeed descended from the ceiling on a wire, a real-life embodiment of a Mission: Impossible fantasy.

You smiled – a cool, collected curve of your lips that somehow managed to convey both power and amusement – and your voice, smooth and confident, filled the stunned silence. “Best Performance Group: ATEEZ.”

A ripple of movement went through their section. They rose, a wave of applause finally breaking the spell. But Wooyoung? He moved as if through water, a dazed expression still clouding his features.

As Hongjoong stepped up to the microphone to accept the award, the unforgiving eye of the camera captured everything. The genuine gratitude on Hongjoong’s face, the supportive smiles of the other members – and Wooyoung. Wooyoung, who couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. His eyes followed the line of your dress, the sharpness of your jawline, the knowing glint in your eyes, the subtle curve of your smirk. Your entire aura seemed to have him ensnared.

And then, as you gracefully handed over the gleaming trophy to Hongjoong, your eyes flickered in his direction. Just a fleeting glance. Just one subtle, almost imperceptible smirk.

It was over.

He was done.

Dead.

Buried under a mountain of newfound fascination.

Twitter exploded within minutes.

🎥 “wooyoung folded like a lawn chair watching her walk out I CANNOT.” 📸 “she smirked. he malfunctioned. we all saw it.”

Later that night, back in the familiar chaos of their dorms, the boys were starting to unwind, the adrenaline of the award show slowly dissipating. Everyone, that is, except for Wooyoung.

He was curled up in his bed, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his head, the glow of his phone illuminating his face as he watched your trailer on repeat.

Click.

You walked out of the inferno, the flickering flames casting dramatic shadows across your face, a gun held loosely in one hand, the sharp snap of your heel against the imaginary concrete echoing in his ears.

“Target acquired.”

He exhaled, a long, shaky breath, as if he had indeed glimpsed something divine.

Yeosang cautiously peeked his head around the doorframe. “Are you… okay?”

“She blew up a car. In HEELS.”

“That didn’t exactly answer the question.”

“She’s so cool, guys,” Wooyoung continued, his voice a hushed reverence. “She used to be in all those fluffy romcoms, and now she’s killing people and being sarcastic and walking in slow motion away from explosions. I didn’t know I had a thing for powerful women who could destroy me.”

“Ah,” Seonghwa said, a wide grin spreading across his face. “You’ve fallen. Hard.”

Mingi punctuated the statement by throwing a soft pillow at Wooyoung’s head. “Confess already.”

“I can’t even breathe,” Wooyoung whispered into his blanket, his voice muffled. “She smirked at me. I think I transcended.”

--

Soon enough The Premiere night descended upon the city like an electric storm, the air crackling with anticipation. Paparazzi, an organized frenzy, lined the velvet ropes like a high-powered firing squad, their flashes a relentless barrage of light. Fans, a roaring wave of adoration, pressed against the barriers, their screams a fervent symphony of excitement. The rapid-fire click of camera shutters punctuated the night, a relentless soundtrack to the unfolding spectacle.

And then, the sleek black car pulled up to the curb, its tinted windows a final veil of mystery. The collective breath of the crowd hitched. The door swung open, and you emerged.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The carefully orchestrated chaos outside the theater erupted into pandemonium. Shouts of your name ripped through the air, drowning out everything else.

You were a vision sculpted from darkness and fire. Custom black silk, impossibly fluid, cascaded around you, embroidered with intricate gold threads that seemed to writhe and shimmer like molten lava. The dress, a masterpiece of design, clung to your form as if painted on, a second skin crafted by mythical beings. A dramatic slit revealed a tantalizing glimpse of leg with every step, while the low back hinted at a hidden strength. Your hair, swept up into a sleek, architectural style, framed your sharp features. Gleaming gold ear cuffs, like miniature sculptures, caught the red carpet lights, adding a touch of fierce elegance.

And your expression? Imperturbable. Powerful. The same captivatingly dark femme fatale aura that had sent shockwaves through the internet after the trailer’s release now radiated in person, amplified tenfold. You were a living, breathing myth, a fire-walking siren who had stepped out of the screen and into reality.

Even as you moved, the digital world was reacting in real-time. Edits began to coalesce on social media, capturing your every step, every glance. Tweets poured in, breathless and awestruck.

💬 “This isn’t a premiere. This is a coronation.” 💬 “She didn’t come to slay. She came to rule.” 💬 “Y/N is literally a Bond villainess and the Bond girl at the same time. My brain can’t comprehend.”

But it wasn't just your otherworldly glamour that held the crowd captive. It was the unexpected glimpses of the person beneath the formidable facade.

As you posed for the relentless cameras, a young female staffer behind you stumbled, her simple blouse slipping awkwardly off one shoulder. In a seamless movement, without a flicker of hesitation, you shifted your position, subtly placing yourself between her and the unforgiving lenses. Your head dipped slightly, and those who were close enough saw your lips move, a whispered word of comfort as the flustered staffer quickly adjusted her top, her face flushing with gratitude.

Moments later, as you made your way towards the theater entrance, a small gasp rippled through the nearby fans. A little girl, her bright pink frock a little too long, had tripped, her face crumpling in distress. Without a second thought, you knelt down in your breathtakingly expensive gown, your movements graceful and unhurried. Your long fingers gently smoothed the ruffled fabric of her skirt, and you carefully adjusted the tiny strap of her heel, offering a warm, genuine smile that melted away her tears.

Halfway up the grand staircase leading into the theater, you paused, your sharp eyes catching a minor imperfection. Your co-star, a usually impeccably dressed actor, had a crooked tie. With a playful shake of your head and a soft laugh that carried in the sudden lull of noise, you reached out and straightened it, your touch light but precise. A blush bloomed on his cheeks, making him look endearingly like a teenager caught off guard.

The internet, already teetering on the brink of collapse, finally shattered.

🎥 “She’s gorgeous, graceful, and kind? This woman’s a SIMULATION. There’s no way she’s real.” 🎥 Fan art, vibrant and immediate, flooded Twitter. TikTok edits set to soaring symphonic music, captioned with the simple, powerful words ‘Queen Energy,’ dominated FYPs. 🎥 # Y/NsEra surged to the # 1 trending spot worldwide, a testament to the captivating force you had unleashed.

And somewhere across the sprawling city, within the familiar, slightly chaotic haven of the ATEEZ dorms, Wooyoung was staring at his phone screen as if it had personally delivered a devastating blow.

She was perfect.

She was unreal.

And she had just posted a picture from the premiere – the black and gold dress shimmering under the intense lights, her gaze direct and magnetic, captioned with two stark emojis:

“🖤⚔️ Blood Petals, now streaming.”

He didn’t pause to consider the implications. He didn’t overthink. His fingers moved with a speed born of pure impulse. He just hit ‘follow.’

And three seconds later, in the small, interconnected universe of social media, the world seemed to tilt again.

💬 “WOOYOUNG FOLLOWED Y/N???” 💬 “We have contact. I repeat. We HAVE CONTACT.” 💬 “Not Wooyoung folding on MAIN like this. I’m deceased.”

Even his own group chat, usually a steady stream of memes and inside jokes, erupted into a flurry of panicked messages.

Mingi: BRO San: no way you just followed her like that Hongjoong: bold. very bold. Yeosang: should’ve made a finsta first lmfao Jongho: you’re so obvious it’s painful Wooyoung: leave me alone Seonghwa: she was really pretty though. and nice. and cool. Wooyoung: I KNOW. I KNOW SHE WAS AND SHE IS.

The next morning, the news broke with the quiet confidence of undeniable success. Netflix officially announced that "Blood Petals" had soared to the # 1 movie spot globally. It had cracked the Top 10 in over eighty countries within the first twelve hours of its release. Critics, who had once pigeonholed you, now lauded your performance, praising the stunning cinematography, the visceral choreography, and your terrifyingly captivating grace. Audiences were spellbound by the transformation, the seamless shift from the soft-spoken sweetheart of romantic comedies to the high-heeled harbinger of doom.

Wooyoung became a dedicated disciple of "Blood Petals." He watched it again and again, dissecting every scene, every nuance of your performance.

But it wasn’t just the movie that consumed him.

He delved into the archives of your public appearances, binging interviews where your witty, sarcastic answers were delivered with a playful smirk that sent a shiver of something he couldn’t quite name down his spine. He watched behind-the-scenes footage, charmed by your easy camaraderie with the stunt team, your genuine laughter at your own bloopers.

And then there were the fan edits. Oh, the fan edits. Compilations of your most striking moments – you in slow motion, flipping gleaming knives with deadly precision, a knowing smirk thrown over your shoulder as you walked away from fiery explosions, all set to a soundtrack of haunting melodies or pulse-pounding club beats.

He was whipped.

Fully.

Entirely.

Completely.

Even the sharp-eyed fans, masters of observation and deduction, sensed the shift in the cosmic balance.

💬 “They haven’t even breathed the same air publicly but I just KNOW he’s head over heels in love.” 💬 “He’s fighting for his life in that dorm right now, trying to play it cool but failing spectacularly.”

And they were right. Because even without a single shared glance captured by the cameras, without a single public interaction…

The ship, fueled by a shared smirk and a single, fateful click of a ‘follow’ button, had already irrevocably set sail.

--

A month had passed since the explosive premiere of "Blood Petals." Your face was plastered across magazine covers, your interviews were dissected frame by frame, and your social media notifications pinged with the relentless energy of a thousand buzzing bees. Your movie reigned supreme, a global phenomenon that solidified your transformation from rom-com darling to action icon. You were booked solid with appearances, endorsements, and talk show circuits.

But through the whirlwind of newfound fame, nothing – and absolutely no one – had managed to truly ruffle your carefully constructed composure. You were a seasoned professional, adept at navigating the chaotic landscape of celebrity.

Until today.

Stepping onto the brightly lit set of a reality show felt different. The studio lights blazed with an almost aggressive intensity, the screams of the live audience were a physical force, and a knot of pure, unadulterated nerves tightened in your stomach, pulling it taut like a drawn bow.

Because today, you were filming with Wooyoung.

Yes. That Wooyoung.

The one who had casually followed you on Instagram weeks ago, triggering an internet meltdown of epic proportions. The one whose award show fancam, capturing his utterly besotted gaze as you presented ATEEZ with their trophy, had inexplicably garnered four million views in a mere seventy-two hours. The one you had, in the quiet corners of your mind, secretly, foolishly, undeniably been crushing on since his debut days.

You’d handled the online frenzy with your usual cool detachment, offering a wry comment here and there, expertly deflecting any direct questions. On the outside, you were the epitome of unbothered grace.

But seeing him in person, sitting across from you at the brightly lit panel table, his fox-like smile radiating genuine warmth, the silver rings on his fingers catching the studio lights, his dark hair artfully messy in a way that somehow only looked perfect on him?

Yeah. Game over. All your carefully constructed walls crumbled like ancient ruins.

“Hi,” he said, his voice a smooth, slightly breathless murmur as you finally settled into your seat. His eyes held a spark of something… intriguing.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice betraying none of the internal chaos, maintaining your signature cool even as your heart rate decided to stage its own private rave.

He leaned in ever so slightly, a conspiratorial air about him. “You look… dangerous.” His gaze flickered over your outfit, a sleek black jumpsuit that hinted at the lethal grace you portrayed on screen.

A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s kind of the brand now, isn’t it?” You met his eyes, holding his gaze for a beat longer than strictly necessary.

The show kicked off, a whirlwind of bright lights and enthusiastic energy. Games were played with varying degrees of success, laughter echoed through the studio, and the usual delightful madness of variety television unfolded. You found yourself surprisingly at ease, bantering with the other guests, your sharp wit on full display.

And then, the host, a seasoned entertainer with a mischievous glint in his eye, turned to you mid-segment, a wide grin spreading across his face. He thrived on creating memorable moments, and the palpable energy between you and Wooyoung hadn’t escaped his notice.

“So, Y/N,” he began, his voice laced with playful curiosity, “people were absolutely obsessed with your bike scenes in Blood Petals. The way you handled that motorcycle in those incredible heels… Do you think you could still ride in heels in real life?”

Without missing a beat, you smoothly crossed your long legs, the movement drawing attention to the very heels in question – a pair of impossibly high stilettos. You casually flicked a loose strand of hair over your shoulder, your gaze steady. “Of course. I could ride in stilettos if I had to. Though I might prefer a slightly more… aerodynamic model than what I usually wear to premieres.”

The audience erupted in cheers and whistles, thoroughly enjoying your confident response.

But the host wasn’t finished stirring the pot. He clapped his hands together dramatically, his eyes twinkling. “Amazing! Absolutely amazing! Well, we have a bike right here on set for our next segment… Anyone here wanna volunteer to ride behind our action queen and, you know, test out her skills?” He punctuated the question with a wink at the camera, clearly intending it as a lighthearted joke. The cast members chuckled, anticipating the usual playful refusals.

Except for one person.

“Yes.”

Wooyoung’s voice cut through the laughter, clear and unwavering. He didn’t even blink, his expression utterly serious, calm, and brimming with a quiet confidence that sent a fresh wave of unexpected butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The entire room seemed to freeze mid-breath. The camera zoomed in on the audience, capturing their collective gasp of shock and burgeoning excitement. Screams started to bubble up from the fans, a sound that was rapidly escalating into something bordering on feral. The other cast members exchanged bewildered glances, some wheezing with suppressed laughter, the staff members behind the cameras cackling with glee at the unexpected turn of events.

And you?

You turned your head slowly, deliberately, to look directly at him. His gaze was intense, a playful fire dancing in his dark eyes. He was smiling at you like the damn devil himself, an irresistible invitation in his expression.

So, of course, you said, your voice a low, challenging purr, “Let’s ride.”

The live segment instantly became legend.

A sleek, black motorcycle was wheeled onto the stage, gleaming under the studio lights. You swung your leg over it with an effortless grace that suggested you had indeed been born on two wheels, the sharp click of your stilettos against the pedals echoing in the sudden hush. Wooyoung hesitated for a split second – just enough to play it off as a moment of playful apprehension – before swinging his own leg over and sliding in behind you, his movements surprisingly fluid.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air behind you, a palpable tension radiating from him.

“Is it okay if I—?” he started, his voice a hesitant murmur.

“Yes,” you said, cutting him off before he could even finish the question, a hint of amusement lacing your tone.

His hands settled on your waist, lightly at first, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your jumpsuit. Then, as the camera zoomed in for a close-up, his grip tightened subtly, a silent acknowledgment of the close proximity. His breath warmed the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice a low rumble.

“You sure you’re good?”

“You’ve asked me ten times,” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice. “You nervous?”

“Just trying not to pass out,” he muttered, the words barely audible.

You pretended not to hear the slightly flustered admission, but the knowing smirk playing on your lips said otherwise.

The internet, predictably, imploded. Again.

💬 “The chemistry is NOT just acting. I refuse to believe this is just for the show.” 💬 “They’re touching like it’s a first date AND their third date at the same time. The awkwardness is endearing and the underlying tension is… palpable.” 💬 “Someone check on Wooyoung’s blood pressure. I think it just spiked into the stratosphere.”

After the exhilarating chaos of the live broadcast, as you finally had a moment to yourself, you opened Instagram. Your fingers hovered over his profile for a fleeting second before you made the decision.

And finally – finally – you tapped the ‘follow’ button.

Within mere seconds, the eagle-eyed fans noticed the digital acknowledgment. The news spread like wildfire.

💬 “Y/N FOLLOWED HIM BACK. WE’RE WITNESSING HISTORY UNFOLD BEFORE OUR VERY EYES.” 💬 “This isn’t just a ship anymore. It’s a luxury yacht sailing through international waters.” 💬 “They’re gonna get married and I can FEEL IT in my bones. Save the date!”

Meanwhile, back at the ATEEZ dorm, the atmosphere was one of bewildered amusement.

Mingi burst into the living room with theatrical flair, phone clutched dramatically in his hand. “YOU SAID YES ON LIVE TV?! TO RIDING BEHIND HER?! ON A MOTORCYCLE?!”

Yunho followed, shaking his head in disbelief, a wide, slightly incredulous grin on his face. “You looked like you were about to propose on that bike, hyung.”

Wooyoung simply shrugged, a goofy, lovesick grin plastered across his face – the grin of a man who was clearly, irrevocably, way too far gone. “I meant it.”

Mingi and Yunho groaned in perfect unison, collapsing onto the nearby couch.

“You’re down bad,” Mingi declared with mock solemnity.

“Embarrassing,” Yunho added, though the teasing tone lacked any real bite.

Wooyoung just flopped back onto the cushions, his phone already displaying a rapidly growing collection of fan edits from the show – snippets of your confident smile, his awestruck gaze, the charged moment on the motorcycle.

And he smiled, a soft, genuine expression that reached his eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice laced with a quiet contentment. “I know.”

It starts the night after the variety show.

Your phone buzzes at 1:12 a.m. with a DM request.

Wooyoung.

You open it without hesitation.

@ wooyoung_official Hey… I hope this isn’t weird or too much but I just wanted to say I had so much fun filming today. I meant what I said about the bike thing, by the way. You were incredible. If I came off too strong, I’m sorry—I was just really nervous and trying not to make it obvious I’ve been a fan of yours forever lol. You’re insanely talented. And hilarious. And kind. I don’t usually DM people like this but… I didn’t want the day to end without saying thank you. Hope I wasn’t too much.

You stare at the screen, heart thudding. Not just because it’s sweet. But because it's real.

You reply faster than you probably should.

@ you That wasn’t too much at all. I had a great time too :) I’m glad it was you behind me on that bike. And if you were nervous, you hid it well. We should do that again sometime. (Maybe without the cameras.)

There’s a pause. Then another ping.

@ wooyoung_official …wait was that flirting Are we flirting now Because I’m ready

You laugh, then send your number as he had sent his.

--

From that moment, it takes off.

Texting every day. Morning check-ins. Late-night venting. Voice notes filled with sleepy laughter and dramatic reenactments of chaotic schedules.

You send each other memes, inside jokes forming faster than you can keep track.

He tells you about the stress of comeback season, the pressure to stay sharp, the ache in his bones from back-to-back rehearsals.

You talk about the constant need to be “on,” the way you sometimes feel like a product instead of a person, the weight of comments that cut deeper than they should.

And through it all, Wooyoung listens. Never tries to fix you. Just sees you.

And hypes you—loudly.

When you land another guesting on a show with him, fans immediately clock the shift.

The way he looks at you when you speak. The inside jokes mid-interview. The not-so-subtle way his hand brushes yours during games.

Clips go viral.

💬 “They’re literally in their own world.” 💬 “Why does Wooyoung look at her like that 😭😭” 💬 “Not him fixing her mic like a boyfriend.” 💬 “HE SAID SHE DESERVES TEN OSCARS??? GET HIM A RING.”

It gets worse (or better?) when he starts defending you online.

Any hate comment?

Deleted.

Any fan shading your acting?

He’s replying with full essays about your talent and work ethic.

He comments under your posts with things like:

💬 Queen behavior. 💬 She acts, she slays, she saves lives. 💬 Where’s your award? No seriously. 💬 No one’s touching her. I mean that.

And when you text him—

💬 you You really don’t have to defend me like that all the time, you know. 💬 wooyoung Yes, I do. You deserve someone who shows up for you. Always. I want to be that.

--

One night, after a long shoot, you break a little.

You text: “Some days I feel like I’ll never be enough no matter how hard I work.”

His reply comes thirty seconds later.

You don’t have to earn the right to rest. You’re enough just as you are. And I know this world is loud and cruel sometimes. But when you need quiet? I’ll be your quiet. When you need noise? I’ll be your loudest.

You cry.

And when he sends a sleepy voice note later saying:

“Just wanted you to hear my voice. In case it helps.”

—you fall asleep smiling.

-

One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days of whispered messages that painted the dawn, late-night phone calls that chased away the shadows, stolen secret coffee runs in disguise, the comforting rhythm of shared playlists weaving through your days, matching hoodies bought on a whim and worn in the privacy of your own spaces, a silent testament to a connection only you two understood.

You and Wooyoung had cultivated a world just for yourselves, a sanctuary built on stolen moments and shared laughter. It wasn't about hiding from the relentless glare of the public eye, though that was a necessary byproduct. It was about cherishing something precious, something untouched by the often-brutal scrutiny of public opinion. It was yours, and his, and belonged to no one else.

He had become your unwavering safe place, the calm in your often-turbulent storm. You, in turn, had become his soft landing, the quiet reassurance in the demanding world he navigated. You had shared everything – your fears, your triumphs, your silliest jokes, your deepest vulnerabilities.

Except for this.

Your next movie. A project shrouded in secrecy, filmed during snatched moments over the past six months. A bold, breathtaking action-romance that promised to redefine your range, where you played the lead opposite a talented rising actor. And yes – there were intimate scenes. A handful. Tastefully shot, with a closed set and an intimacy coordinator ensuring everyone felt safe and respected. Carefully choreographed, like any other dance sequence.

Necessary for the story, your director had emphasized, his artistic vision unwavering. And executed with professionalism and respect, you knew. You believed in the script, in the message it conveyed. You loved the complexity of your character. You just hadn’t… told him.

You had envisioned it as a surprise, a new facet of your artistry to share when the time was right, perhaps at the official trailer drop. But when the first press article landed, its headline screaming the word “intimate” in bold, accusatory letters… it wasn’t the carefully curated reveal you had planned.

Your phone began to vibrate incessantly, a relentless buzzing that echoed the growing unease within you. Notifications flooded your screen – concerned messages from your team, speculative comments from fans, and then, his name flashed across the display.

💬 Wooyoung: Can we meet? Just us. Please.

The café was a hidden gem, tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street in the familiar bustle of Mapo-gu. The early afternoon crowd was sparse, mostly locals lost in their own conversations. No one paid you a second glance as you slipped inside. He was already there, seated in your usual corner booth, the familiar soft grey of his hoodie pulled low, the brim of his black cap shadowing his usually bright eyes.

As you slid into the booth opposite him, he looked up, and a sharp pang of something akin to guilt and worry twisted in your chest. He wasn't angry, not outwardly. But an almost palpable anxiety clung to him, a restless energy that made him seem smaller, more vulnerable than you had ever seen him. It was as if something was crawling under his skin, an invisible itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice a gentle anchor in the tense atmosphere.

"Hey." He offered you a tight, strained smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then he exhaled sharply, the sound filled with a nervous energy. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you out like this, I just… I couldn't keep it in. Not for another second."

Without a word, you reached across the small table, your hand finding his. His fingers curled around yours instantly, his grip surprisingly tight, as if he needed the physical connection to ground him. He took another shaky breath before the words finally tumbled out, quick, nervous, raw with vulnerability.

"I trust you. You know that, right? God, you have to know that. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met. But when I saw those articles, the way they were talking about it, the… the emphasis on those scenes… I—I just panicked. My head went somewhere I didn't want it to go. I know it's acting. I know it's your job, your art. But I couldn't stop imagining it, replaying scenarios in my head. I hate that I felt this wave of… of jealousy. It's so stupid. I hate that my brain spiraled like that. I just—God."

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb tracing small, agitated circles on your skin.

"I think… I think I love you so much it scares me sometimes. It makes me… irrational. I don't ever want to be the guy who tells you what to do, what roles to take, what not to film. That's not who I am. But I'd be lying if I said it didn't make this awful knot form in my stomach, like I was losing you. Or worse… that I didn't deserve you, that someone else… someone else would see that side of you, that intimacy, and… and that I wouldn't be enough."

Your own chest tightened, a wave of empathy washing over you. You understood his vulnerability, the quiet insecurities that even his bright stage presence couldn’t always mask.

Without a word, you slid out of your seat, moved around the small table, and knelt down in front of him, your knees pressing gently against the worn wooden floor. You reached up, your hands framing his face, your thumbs gently stroking his cheekbones.

"Wooyoung," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "You're allowed to feel all of that. Every single bit of it. You're not wrong for being scared, for letting your mind wander. It just proves how much you care. But you're not losing me. You've never even come close."

His dark eyes darted across your face, searching, questioning, glassy with unshed tears that made his eyelashes look impossibly long. “I just… it’s just that the way they wrote about it…”

"I love you." You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his, the contact a silent reassurance. "I love you. Jung Wooyoung. Not anyone else. Not any character I play. Not any co-star I share a scene with. Just you. Always you."

He blinked slowly, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down his cheek. “You… you do?” The question was barely a whisper, filled with a mixture of disbelief and a fragile hope.

"I have for a long time," you confessed, your voice soft but firm.

Then you kissed him.

It was a tender kiss, slow and deliberate, a silent language of reassurance and unwavering affection. It deepened gradually, becoming a heartfelt expression of everything you had ever wanted to say, everything that words often failed to capture. His hands, which had been gripping yours so tightly, now moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his own lips finally responding with a fervor that spoke volumes of the restraint he had been holding onto.

You broke apart just enough to breathe, your lips still brushing against his.

"The scenes in the movie?" you said gently, your gaze unwavering. "They're choreography, Wooyoung. They're storytelling. They're a performance. Not emotion. That has never, and will never, be a part of what I feel for you."

You pressed a soft kiss against his jawline, feeling the slight tremor beneath your lips.

"My heart doesn't perform for a camera. It beats for you, and only you."

You stood, taking his hand, your fingers lacing together as if they were meant to be intertwined. You left the quiet café hand in hand, two figures melting into the anonymity of the afternoon shadows, a shared smile gracing your lips – the quiet, knowing smile of two people who had just reaffirmed something precious and unbreakable.

And maybe you had stolen something from the universe. The unwavering certainty of each other's love, a bond forged in vulnerability and trust. And that, you knew, was a treasure beyond measure.

--

Two years. Seven hundred and thirty sunrises witnessed through sleepy eyes, countless whispered "goodnights" across continents, an immeasurable tapestry woven from secret smiles exchanged across crowded rooms, stolen moments tucked away from prying eyes, phone calls that stretched into the velvet depths of midnight, sharing the quiet anxieties and exhilarating triumphs that came with navigating your extraordinary lives. It was about fiercely protecting something real, something fragile and precious, in a world that seemed determined to twist every genuine connection into a sensational headline.

But love, as it often did, bloomed in the quiet spaces, making you both a little braver, a little more willing to step out of the carefully constructed shadows.

So there was no dramatic announcement, no carefully worded statement released through official channels. No grand, orchestrated gesture, no notes app apology for… well, for simply finding happiness. Instead, you both eased into the public acknowledgment of your relationship with the same gentle tenderness that defined your private world—slowly, softly, like the first blush of dawn.

A seemingly innocuous selfie, posted amidst a flurry of solo shots, where a familiar black jacket was just-so-casually draped over your shoulders. A behind-the-scenes video from a shoot where a distinct, joyful laugh echoed in the background, a laugh that sharp-eared fans instantly recognized. A fleeting glimpse of a hand, undeniably his, resting near yours in a group photo.

The fans, those astute observers of every pixel and every shared glance, already knew. They had suspected, theorized, and meticulously documented every potential clue for months. Edits set to romantic ballads, intricate timelines of your subtle interactions, and countless “I swear they’re secretly dating” comments had flooded every corner of the internet you both inhabited.

So when it finally became “official”—just a casual, almost offhand, "yes, we’re together, and we’re really happy" during a lighthearted interview about your recent projects—the internet didn't explode in scandal. Instead, it melted with an outpouring of genuine joy and heartfelt congratulations. It wasn't a shocking revelation; it was a confirmation of something beautiful that they had already sensed. It was a celebration of a connection that felt real, honest, and earned.

And Wooyoung? He never stopped being your biggest fan, his unwavering support now blossoming into something even more profound. Every post you shared, no matter how trivial, received his immediate like, a digital affirmation that always brought a small smile to your face. Every press junket, every interview you gave, he watched with an almost reverent pride. Every stray negative comment, every whisper of doubt from the darker corners of the internet, he seemed to drown out with an even louder, more radiant display of his affection.

You weren’t just a fleeting “celebrity crush” in his eyes anymore. You were his. His partner, his confidante, his equal. His favorite person in a world filled with dazzling lights and fleeting connections.

And he was yours. The steady anchor in your often-turbulent sea, the warm hand that always found yours in a crowded room, the comforting voice that whispered reassurances in the quiet hours.

The premiere night of your latest film was, as always, a dazzling spectacle. The relentless flash of cameras, the chorus of voices calling your name, the crimson carpet stretching out like a runway leading into the starlit sky. You stood tall, radiating confidence in a gown of rich crimson velvet that seemed to absorb and reflect the light, your poise a silent testament to the journey you had navigated.

Wooyoung didn't walk beside you, his arm linked with yours for the cameras. That wasn't your story. But he was there, a steadfast presence tucked away in the guest section, the hood of his jacket pulled up, the brim of his baseball cap low, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made you feel like you held the very moon in your hands.

Every time your eyes met his across the crowded theater, a fleeting, private moment amidst the public frenzy, your smile softened, a genuine warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the flashing lights.

Later, as the buzz of the after-party began to fade, the air thick with congratulations and champagne bubbles, the two of you slipped away unnoticed, seeking the quiet solitude of a rooftop overlooking the sprawling cityscape.

The city hummed below, a symphony of distant traffic lights flickering like fallen stars, the faint wail of sirens a melancholic counterpoint to the gentle breeze that kissed your skin. You leaned against the cool metal railing, the vastness of the night sky stretching above you. He stepped up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close until your back rested against his chest, his chin finding the curve of your shoulder.

"You killed it tonight," he murmured into your hair, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned in his embrace, your hands finding his. “You always say that.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine curve of his lips that you knew so well. "Because it’s always true. You shine so brightly, you know that?"

A comfortable silence settled between you, the city lights twinkling like a silent audience. The air tasted like something sacred, a shared moment of quiet intimacy amidst the surrounding chaos.

“I don’t want to lose this,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability of the past two years momentarily surfacing.

His grip tightened gently on your hands. “You won’t,” he replied, his voice firm, filled with a quiet conviction. “Not if we keep choosing each other, every single day. Not if we keep protecting this, our own little world.”

You nodded, a small, understanding smile gracing your lips. You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, the familiar scent of his cologne a comforting balm.

And in that quiet space, between the distant hum of the city and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, you both silently reaffirmed the promise you had made to each other long ago – to never let the relentless demands of the world, the intrusive glare of fame, the insidious tendrils of fear and doubt, or the deafening noise of public opinion come between the fragile, beautiful thing you had built.

The next morning, as the world began to stir, a blurry, zoomed-in shot surfaced on Twitter, quickly going viral. It was an imperfect capture of a perfect moment. You were laughing, your hand playfully covering your mouth, your head tilted towards Wooyoung, who stood close beside you, his hand gently, possessively, holding yours. The background was indistinct, the focus soft, but the emotion captured in that single frame was undeniable.

The caption, simple and heartfelt, resonated with millions:

“When your celeb crush becomes your person.”

And just like that, the world kept spinning, the endless cycle of news and gossip continuing its relentless churn. But for once, it felt like the universe was tilting ever so slightly in your favor, bathing your quiet, hard-won happiness in a warm, gentle light.

-- THE END

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

shy!reader's first time riding him...

you carefully and cautiously approach Satoru who's lying bare on your shared bed, glowing eyes, soft and kind inviting you in as a siren's song.

you position yourself above his form and place your palms on his chest, eyes sheepishly looking into his as his hands find their way to your plushy thighs and give them a light squeeze.

he gives you a reassuring look and you know in that moment that you're safe and there's nothing to worry about.

you slowly sink down on his cock which is leaking and throbbing, both moaning at the all-consuming sensation of him filling you up.

his loving gaze and tender touch warm your heart and wash all your anxieties away as you begin to bounce on his cock.

he squeezes his eyes shut in sheer pleasure but quickly opens them again, not wanting to miss the divine sight before him, your beautiful body bouncing up and down on his length.

salty tears sting his skin as they stream down the sides of his face and you notice them quickly, immediately stopping you in your tracks.

"d-don't stop please..." he whines, nails digging into your plush thighs to force you to go on, groaning "feels so good." in a desperate tone.

you bend down to capture his lips in a fiery kiss as you continue to mercilessly fuck your pretty little hole with his girthy cock, feeling a sudden surge of confidence.

you go on with your hungry movements, desperately chasing your high until you both reach the peak of euphoria and it bursts through you, leaving both of you a sweaty, shaking and heaving mess.

he fills you up with white ropes of his seed, giving you a warm sensation inside as you come down from your high, clinging to him even further and he holds your trembling body tightly in his muscular arms.

"told you there's nothing to worry about, baby." he says between heavy breaths, making you lightly giggle as you hide your face in his neck.

your sweaty bodies tangle together beneath the damp sheets, no sign as to where his limbs end and where yours begin.

you lay on top of him, feeling his toned muscles against your abdomen and spend some time in each other's arms, softly caressing each other's bodies, feeling sleep gradually take over your senses.

"love you. goodnight, baby." he whispers, kissing your temple, "love you too, 'toru. goodnight."

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

DRUNK GIRLFRIEND

Word Count: 1.3K

Pairing(s): Rafe x Reader

Warnings: Drinking, Blowjob

Summary: Reader is a funny/horny drunk

When you and Rafe entered the party, you were immediately greeted by a whirlwind of activity. To your left, groups of friends gathered around makeshift beer pong tables, their laughter and friendly banter filling the air. To your right, the heart of the room pulsed with the rhythmic movements of dancers lost in the music, their bodies swaying in sync with the pulsating beats. 

"What do you want to drink?" Rafe asked, his arm wrapping around your waist as the vibrant pulse of the party surrounded you both. "Something with lemonade in it, please," you replied, leaning in to kiss his lips softly, a smile dancing on your own.

Together, you navigated through the lively throngs of guests, making your way to the kitchen where the air was thick with the scent of alcohol and excitement. As you entered, you were greeted by the sight of Topper and Sarah engaged in a spirited round of shots.

"Y/n! You're here!" Sarah's voice rang out above the din, her excitement palpable as she rushed over to envelop you in a warm hug, her laughter echoing in the bustling room.

"Yes, I'm here, and you're drunk," you playfully teased, gently pointing out Sarah's tipsy state as she pulled you closer to the shots with a grin plastered on her face. With a laugh, she shrugged off your observation, her enthusiasm undiminished as she handed out the shots.

"Two shots to start the night," Sarah declared, passing two to you and two to Rafe, who met your gaze with a mischievous smirk. Without hesitation, he downed both shots in rapid succession, his expression unfazed by the fiery burn of the tequila. Inspired by his boldness, you followed suit, the sharp taste of the alcohol leaving a lingering warmth in your chest.

"Still don't like tequila," you admitted with a wince, pushing the empty shot glasses back towards Sarah as Rafe draped an arm over your shoulders, his touch sending a shiver of warmth down your spine.

With a tender kiss pressed to your cheek, he whispered, "Let's dance, babe," his voice a gentle invitation as he led you away from the crowded kitchen and into the heart of the dance floor.

As the infectious beat of "Despacito" filled the air, you melted into Rafe's embrace, your arms winding around his neck as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. With playful abandon, you peppered his skin with soft kisses, the heat of your breath mingling with the faint scent of his cologne.

His hands roamed your body with a confident touch, guiding your hips as you danced in sync. The sensation of his body against yours sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through you, with each grind of your hips against his, you could feel him hardening under you. 

As he trailed his hand from your ass to your neck, his touch sending sparks of arousal racing down to your core, you couldn't help but smile against his lips.

"I feel so refreshed when I put my lips on you… you're like an ice-cold drink on a hot summer's day," you murmured, your words laced with playful affection as you deepened the kiss, your tongue intertwining with his in a fight for dominance.

He chuckled softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you like a gentle caress. Pulling away slightly, he captured your lower lip between his teeth, teasing it gently before releasing it with a playful nip. "You're so funny when you're drunk," he laughed, his eyes sparkling with warmth and adoration as he gazed down at you.

After a few hours of dancing, Rafe made his way towards a cluster of chairs where his friends were gathered. With a contented smile, he sank into the seat, his body pleasantly buzzing from the euphoria of the night.

As they shared anecdotes and laughter, time seemed to slip away, the moments melting into one another in a blissful haze of camaraderie. However, amidst the easy banter of his companions, Rafe's attention was suddenly drawn to a murmur rippling through the crowd.

Curious, he pushed through the people, his pulse quickening with anticipation as he caught wind of whispers suggesting that his girlfriend was on the verge of taking her bra off.

With a mixture of amusement and concern, Rafe pushed through the sea of bodies until he caught sight of the scene unfolding before him.

There, atop the pool table, his girlfriend danced with carefree abandon, her movements sexy and suggestive as she twirled and spun, her laughter ringing out like a melody in the crowded room. Despite the flicker of amusement that danced in his eyes, Rafe knew he couldn't let the situation escalate any further.

"Y/n, come down from there," Rafe called out, his tone firm yet laced with affection as he approached the pool table. However, his request was met with a playful protest as his girlfriend insisted she was having fun and urged him to join her.

With a fond shake of his head, Rafe gently but firmly lifted her off the pool table, her protests melting into laughter as he swung her over his shoulder. As she tugged at his shirt, her fingers travelled down his toned body, sending a spark of desire within her, Rafe couldn't help but chuckle at her playful antics.

With a soft sigh, he carried her away from the crowd, the sounds of the party fading into the background as he pushed open the bathroom door, as he gently set her down.

Their eyes met in a silent exchange “Did you like my dancing?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of playfulness as her hands slid up to rest on his biceps. Her touch sent a shiver of desire racing down his spine, igniting a flicker of longing within him as he gazed down at her.

With a tender smile, Rafe brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek with gentle reverence. "I always love watching you dance," he confessed, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "But right now, all I want is you.”

As Rafe closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you. Your bodies melted into each other, the heat of his touch sending shivers racing down your spine, you found yourself trailing your hands down to his belt.

You undid the buckle, your fingers fumbling slightly in your haste as the belt loosened beneath your touch, you slid it out of the loop. Eager to suck his cock, you grasped his cock and started pumping him.

Rafe unclipped your bra with one hand, and you took it off, while making your way down to your knees. His veiny cock staring at you in the face, you stuck out your tongue out and licked a long stripe from top to bottom. “Don’t tease me” he said coming to play with your breast, kneading your nipple between his fingers. 

You take him into your mouth, bobbing your head making his cock reach the back of your throat, “taking me so well baby” he encouraged.

You paid most of your attention to his tip sucking and slurping on him, he threw his head back in pleasure. You could tell he was close when he started to swell inside your mouth.

You bobbed harder and he came in your mouth, feeling hot cum ropes hit the back of your throat, you took him out of your mouth and placed his cock between your breasts, milking the rest of him until he emptied out.

“Fuck thats so hot baby” he moans out. He grabs her my her waist hoisting her up, liking his release clean from her. 

“Your turn baby!!”

Taglist:

@anonymouscameron @ilovethekookprince @rafecameronsgirfriend

[mayasaurusss]

omg i need more taivan x reader 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Trophy

Contains: gendernautral reader, therm "trophy wife" used once, fem Van, small steamy blurb. A/N: Hello my lovely readers (and anon)! I know that I haven’t been active these past couple of weeks, but I had a bit of a hard time. I wrote this as a small, steamy blurb to kinda get myself into writing again. I hope you’ll enjoy it!

It's so very hard to be the trophy wife of two of the most sexiest people on the planet. Waiting for them to arrive back home after their long work day is like hell: the house is dark, there are no petty remarks, no trashy tv or laughter filling the space, nothing. Just you, sitting on your ass, counting the minutes as the hours approach midnight.

You still remember the first night you met Taissa and Van. Well, you met Van first: one Friday night, when the air was fresh and the summer euphoria started to make itself known, you chose to go to a club to dance the night away.

You let the music flow in you and before long, noticed the fiery red headed woman at the counter. She was stunning to say the least, with eyes that could lit you on fire. The scar running down her left cheek did nothing to make her less beautiful in your eyes. She noticed you too: dancing in the middle of the club, a trickle of sweat falling into your brow, you looked like an angel. Something she might just eat up.

Van was still rusty by then, and despite her cool attitude, you could see the way her dimples twitched when she talked to you "Hello beautiful. Would- would you like to dance?".

You met Taissa a while later, one autumn afternoon. Van had already talked to you about her with a glint in her eyes that suggested Tai was more than just a friend, or at least had been. She introduced you to each other, and from the very first moments, you had been down bad for her too. She had something regal to the way she carried herself, as if she knew her worth as well as the next guy. The first time you saw her, there was something in her dark eyes that just made your heart race.

How could she wrap you around her finger, only you and her knew. As did Van.

It didn't take them much to read the sings and before long, you were on a bed, kissing Van as Tai's hand inched slowly to the middle of your legs. Never in your mind had you ever thought that you'd be sitting on senator Taissa Turner's couch, waiting for her and that girlfriend of hers -and yours-.

Just as your eyelids start to close, the door slams open and you immediatley recognize Van's sigh and Taissa's smell. One of them, you assume it's Van, throws their keys on the small coffee table next to the entrance, making a noise so loud that it shakes you fully awake.

"Damn Van, you woke them up!" Taissa almost yells, a scorn marking her features, deepened by the black of her coat.

"Oh, did I? I'm so sorry" reaching down to you on the couch, she kisses you. The kiss is chaste at first, small and tender, but grows heated the moment she presses her lips more deeply into yours. Her breath is hot against you, her body boiling from a long day at work, her tongue dry and so in need of yours on top of it.

"Have you waited long for us?" she asks you, now trailing down your jaw and onto your neck, "Yeah...". Taissa, who you discover had been watching you the entire time, reaches for your cheek. Her nails sit just right under your jaw, where Van's lips were just a moment prior.

"You have been so good for us" she lifts you up to look into your eyes. "So fucking good" her breath ghosts on the opposite side of your neck and her hand trails down, gripping the base of your neck.

You feel the strain of her muscles through her fingers, her want, her desire on the way the skin molds around her mouth and in those dark eyes that you've grown to love.

"What do you say we reward them?". 

[muzansslxt]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

tartilgaxreader

summary: Childe grows tired of your avoidance towards him and decides to teach you a lesson ;)

warnings: mature themes, MINORS DNI

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You had been avoiding Childe like an illness all week and oh was he fucking pissed about it.

But finally, by the grace of the gods themselves it seemed, you agreed to come over.

Maybe you were nervous to see Childe, whatever it was he had grown tired of the cat and mouse game.

He wanted you now, wanted you so fucking bad he could practically taste your cunny on his tounge.

And there you were in his home, finally.

Fuck.

He knew it was wrong, knew it was so wrong but did he care? No. No he fucking didn’t.

That’s why he had you pressed into his mattress, ass up while he mercilessly plunging his thick length into your greedy cunt.

One hand had a firm grip on your hair, shoving your face into his pillows harshly.

The other was tugging and playing with your puffy clit, already sore and aching from his brutal treatment.

Your lungs were screaming for air, the pillow blocking your mouth, muffled moans and crys danced to his ears and he grunted in satisfaction.

“You fucking bitch..hah..thinkin you can play around with me? Huh?” He sneered, his tip bullying itself against your cervix.

Your vision was getting spotty, no matter how loud you tried to scream it wasn’t loud enough.

Suddenly he pulled your body flush against his chest, you gasped and nearly chocked on the sudden rush of oxygen that filled your lungs.

Tears were already rushing down your cheeks, a sob wrenched out of your mouth and you swore you felt him get harder inside of you.

“Please s-stop.” You whimpered, a hoarse cry leaving your lips and he slapped your clit.

You flinched, trying to curl in on yourself but Childe had moved his hand to the base of your throat and squeezed warningly.

He shushed you with a gentle tone but picked up his pace, balls slapping your sweat soaked skin and his hold on your neck tightening ever so slightly.

“Please.” You tried again, sobbing uncontrollably as your insides felt like they were on fire, your tits bounced in rhythm with his thrusts.

“You brought this on yourself y/n. I’m a patient man but you’ve played one to many games with me.” He growled lowly in your ear.

Your body began to feel tingly, your skin crawling with the building euphoria that pooled in your lower tummy.

You were so close and Childe knew it.

Your insides began to hug around his length tightly, each of your slippery rings holding his cock hostage inside of you made his balls swell with an undeniable urge to cum.

“M’sorry.” You managed to mewl out, drool began pooling outside of your mouth but the blissful pleasure hitting your body sweetly made you care less.

Childe rumbled a low chuckle through his chest which vibrated against your back deliciously, it felt as though every nerve through out your body was burning for release.

“So close..” You managed to whisper as Childes pace grew slower, and slower.

“Oh really?” He cooed in a teasing tone, his teeth grazing along your shoulder before placing a small kiss on the crook of your neck.

You nod pleadingly while your cunt began to throb in an almost painful manner, silently screaming at you for its release.

“You hurt my feelings y/n, I’ve missed you this whole week and you continued to avoid me. You wound me you know, why would you hide from me?” He murmured while running his hands over your breasts, nipples hard as rocks under his warm fingers.

A shiver ran through your body as you felt his cock rub along your swollen bundle of nerves.

Your mind was clouded with lust and a fiery need for Childes length plunging back into your dripping cunny.

“I w-was busy with training, and I’ve just been so tired. I didn’t want to disappoint you.” You whimpered back softly.

Childe was silent for a moment, his lips pressed gently to your neck before trailing over your shoulders.

“You could never disappoint me.” He murmured while his warm hands glided down to your waist.

His lips continued to pepper your skin softly before his cock abruptly slammed its way inside of you.

A fiery pain coursed through your vains, making you cry out in such a sweet manner it nearly made Childe cum.

“Although you could never disappoint me y/n, I do enjoy thoroughly punishing you.” He growled lowly as he began to rut himself deep in the warm embrace of your cunny.

“Baby- Please- h-ho fuck.” You whined out, the knot in your tummy burned deliciously as Childe continued to grip your hips tightly, his eyes glued to the lewd expressions your face made.

“Touch yourself for me.” He cooed lowly, leaning his head down so he could be even closer to you. His pace had grown sloppy and you knew he was ready to burst.

Your hand shyly traveled between your legs to the sweet bundle of nerves that practically begged to be touched, rubbing your clit in gentle circles your breath quickened.

“Look at me when you cum y/n.” He groaned while sweat began beading along his ginger hairline, the sight was enough for you to arch up into him and release around his length.

“Oh gods.” You breathed as pure euphoria ripped through your body, your face was enough to send Childe over the edge, who promptly dumped his seed deep inside of you.

All was quiet for a moment except the both of your laboured breaths filling the room, your body tingled sweetly as you turned your head to look at your lover.

Childe smirked at you for a moment before reaching his hand over your waist to pull you flush against his own body “We’re not done yet y/n.” He purred lowly, hand already reaching for your overstimulated cunny.

“Your punishments just getting started~”

[merbear25]

Shunsui with a fem s/o who gets jealous easily? Sfw and nsfw? :^)

Hello! I can definitely imagine him having a partner like this haha. Thank you for sending this in! I hope you like it 💜💜

CW: Includes SFW and NSFW headcanons, fem!reader

With a jealous s/o (Shunsui)

He’d be quite good at smooth talking and overall easing your worries mostly due to his even temper. Laid back in nature, he wouldn’t be one to feed into your negative thoughts.

In all honesty, he found it a bit adorable how worried you were someone might snatch him away.

Your pouting and crossing of the arms were too much for him to resist pulling you into a reassuring embrace. The protest you gave was short-lived as his bearhug enveloped you. It never took long for you to melt in his arms. That little huff was then followed by the lowering of those walls, opening you up to conversation.

He’d listen to your fears and speculations attentively, never belittling your feelings. A moment's pause to digest what you told him, he would want to tread the topic carefully to avoid any unnecessary fights.

He’s no stranger to the company of women with more fiery personalities, so it would take more than your flames to force him away.

That pouty expression was still lingering, making a blush prickle at his cheeks and a cheeky smile play at his lips. You were far too cute like this—a weakness of his he was sure you were aware of.

NSFW below the cut: make up sex, fluffy smut, oral sex (female receiving), body worship

Light kisses trailed down your neck to your collarbone, while his hands caressed your legs. His fingers rubbed your inner thighs, while he eased himself between them. Any soft sounds you made left him aching for more and gave him all the more reason to push you to your limits.

His hands caressed your sides and breasts, hitting all your most sensitive spots. He’d pepper reassurance in soft whispers as you melted under his touch. Each little whimper that passed your soft lips sent a wave of pleasure washing over him.

You were such a delicate woman and you deserved to be treated with the utmost care.

With the need to make you feel good, loved, and cherished overwhelming him, his lips delved further down to your sweet core. Praises of your beauty and his devotion to you wrapped around you like a weighted blanket, anchoring you to the moment.

As his tongue darted against your clit, the shivers of euphoria were delectable appetizers. His tongue soon bathed your now spasming slit, desperate to feel you unravel on him.

With each gasp and moan from you growing louder, your body began moving on its own accord, as if unable to get close enough. His grip on your hips tightened to hold you in place, and the low groan seeping out of him when your thighs gently squeezed his face vibrated throughout your core.

Soon your pleasure soaked cries of love filled the room, pushing him to messily devour your sweet, throbbing center.

Bringing you down from your high was done through tender hands, as he wanted to feel every last bit of ecstasy you were willing to give.

He’d never tire of this; watching you break down in fits of sheer bliss was the ultimate silver lining to your jealous outbursts. He’d refrain from telling you, but he sometimes looked forward to you getting carried away with your jealousy because he knew he’d be able to make it up to you with his face between your luscious thighs.

[kingkatsuki]

— the ties that bind

I just needed to get this out of my system, because after catching up to Wind Breaker I got this idea in my head and I just hope it makes some form of sense outside the horny.

Endo would offer anything to Takiishi to make him happy, including you.

Pairing: Endo Yamato x Takiishi Chika x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, angst, toxic!unestablished relationship, power dynamics if you really squint, threesome, one!sided feelings (on yours and Endo’s part), dirty talk, m!masturbation, fingering, double penetration (cock and fingers in your pussy at the same time), creampie, cum eating, cunnilingus.

Word Count: 2.4k.

You’re not even sure if Takiishi truly loves you, or whether you’re just another pawn in his sadistic game of chess. Manipulating you would be easy anyway when you’re so desperately in love with him.

“You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” His thumb tugs at your bottom lip as you instinctively tilt your head, pathetically offering yourself to him as always. The option is his to take, his decision as always, “Anything.”

“Yes, Chika.” And perhaps he likes you because you always tell him exactly what he wants to hear.

Takiishi smiles at that and indulges you. Taking pity on you this time as he leans down to capture your lips in a fiery kiss, cradling your jaw in one of his palms as you feel yourself leaning into his touch. You like it when he’s like this— it allows you to trick yourself into thinking everything is copacetic.

“Is that good?” His lips curl into a smug grin against your lips. Already certain of the answer, though he’d never want you to lie to him.

And it is good, the lustrous euphoria that clouds your thoughts and leaves you in a delirious stupor. His balls are snug against the swell of your ass as he works to carve your cunt into the shape of his cock. Grinding against you as the coarse hairs at his base tickle your clit and have you clenching around him, sharp nails digging into the base of his skull as you pathetically writhe beneath him.

“Oh, fuck,” You sound out, chasing his lips. His mouth swallows the sound as he repeats the motion, delighting in the way your walls clench around his cock, “Chika.”

Takiishi pulls back to watch you now, drunk enough on the pleasure that crystalline tears clump in your thick lashes and your lips pout in a needy whine. The sight is completely debauched as he reaches out to palm one of your bouncing breasts, catching your nipple between his index and middle finger as he squeezes softly.

“You really are perfect, huh?” He continues, shaping his hand against the curve of your chest, grunting when you clench around him in response.

He’s like a drug, intoxicating and so damn addictive that you can’t stop yourself from coming back for another hit. His hands scorch your skin as he palms your breast, rutting into your warm cunt as his cock curves towards that sweet spot inside you.

He’s nothing like the man that everyone else gets to see, the strongest man in Furin's history. When you have him like this it’s easy to convince yourself that he’s something more— this soft side reserved just for you as he holds you in his arms and tells you he loves you. Except, he’d never say those words to you, would he?

“Told ya she was,” Endo smirks from behind you, and you’re brought back to your sickening reality.

It’s his fault you’re like this, after all.

“I thought she’d make you happy.” He scoffs, and you’re reminded of your stark reality, the real reason why you’re here, “I picked a good one, huh?”

Takiishi doesn’t answer, but instead gives another rough thrust into your tight cunt. Enough to have you crying out as Endo shamelessly flops down on his side onto the bed beside you, resting his head on his palm as he reaches out to pinch one of your taut nipples. His cock bounced from the movement as you noticed the globs of pre beading at the engorged tip, an angry pink that flushed down the length of him. Swollen balls, bulky and ready to give everything they’ve got to give to the man in front of you. Endo wrapped a calloused palm around his cock as he gave himself a lazy pump, smearing the opaline moisture along his length for lube as he pressed his thumb against his slit.

“She was a good choice.” Takiishi grunts, readjusting himself as he curls his hands beneath your thighs. Changing the angle as your walls clench around him, admiring the scars and welts that pucker against his chest.

And Endo delights in the praise, as though it was directed towards him. When the saccharine look in Takiishi’s eyes told otherwise— his softened irises almost convinced you that he cared.

It’s always been difficult to ascertain when he’s being deceptive but just as he enjoys playing this twisted game, you’ve started to play too. Like a pawn whose only task is to protect the king, you’ve set your pieces up to guard your heart. Terrified to admit to him how you feel, although you’re certain he can tell. He’s always been perceptive, after all.

“I’d do anything for you,” Endo continues stroking his cock, squeezing his palm around the girth of it, “You know that.”

And once again, that’s your stark reminder that none of this is real.

Takiishi had told you he cared for you before. One night below the stars when you were alone together, sharing a split bottle of whisky as you felt the breeze whip at your ankles. He’d only allow himself to be vulnerable when there was no one else around, no distractions. Or as vulnerable as Takiishi was capable of being, you supposed. But you wondered if he’d say the same to Endo when he was in the same position, all doe eyes and soft smiles as he cups your beating heart in a calloused fist and squeezes tight.

Endo always said Takiishi was a blazing inferno that consumes everything it touches indiscriminately, without a care for others. And that was probably why you’d both be going down in the blaze. Fooling yourself into believing that you would be able to avoid the fire when you should’ve known it was destroying you from the inside.

“You like that?” Takiishi murmured, “You like me fucking you into the shape of my cock?”

But maybe you were just as sadistic as them, indulging in the pain laced with such frivolity. Letting them use you however they see fit, under the guise that they actually care about you— that they love you.

“Yes,” You whined, trying feebly to match his pace. Wanting to prove to him that you were the right choice, that you’d do anything to make him happy. It disgusted you how much you’d bend your back to appease him, how much you were willing to give of yourself to receive next to nothing in return. You could only blame the pleasure clouding your mind for so much before the lusty fog cleared to a haze of realisation.

“Good girl.” He liked that answer, he always did.

Takiishi rewarded you with a particularly harsh thrust, as he pulled his hips back enough to drag his drenched cock from your silky depths before plunging it back in with a sudden rut.

“Her pussy sounds so fuckin’ wet.” Endo smirked at the lewd sound that filled the room, “She’s so noisy.”

“You always take me so well,” Takiishi murmured so softly, you’d mistake it for kindness. Smoothing a palm against your pelvis as he felt for his cock inside you.

“Yeah, and she likes it,” Endo scoffed, “Just look at her— you like being stuffed full, huh?”

He reached down to press two tattooed fingers against your puffy clit as you gasped in pleasure. Arching your back into his touch as Takiishi continued his rough pace, fucking you higher up the mattress from the ferocity of his thrusts as his red hair cascaded around him.

“Bet Chika’s stretching you out,” His fingers continued lower, spreading into a V on either side of Takiishi’s cock as they squeezed softly. The heel of his palm was now flat against your clit as you watched Takiishi’s eyes roll in pleasure, manicured nails digging into the plush of your thighs as he sought his high.

“This is the best gift yet, right Chika?” Endo grins, “Isn’t she the best gift?”

“Yeah,” Takiishi smiles down at you, and it has you falling even deeper, “You did good.”

Endo practically keened at the praise, a garbled sound akin to a whine slipped past his lips as slender hips bucked into his closed fist. And while Endo would say Takiishi is the king in this twisted game, you know him better. He’s like a rook, moving straight across the board to strike down every dispensable shield you’ve placed to guard your heart as he gets in through a hole in your defences.

“Fu-uck,” Endo groaned when he began to press two of his tattooed fingers into your warm, wet cunt above Takiishi’s cock. Feeling the stretch between your thighs as you writhed against tousled sheets, immediately clamping down in defence.

“Relax.” Takiishi smoothed a palm along your sternum, feeling the harsh doldrums of your heart as though on command you released the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding.

Feeling Endo wiggle his fingers inside you with glee as the pair moved in tandem, calloused pads hitting the spongy spot inside you with each flick of his wrist as the blunt head of Takiishi’s cock carved your insides into the shape of him.

“You’re so big, Chika,” Endo continued, a groan vibrating low in his throat as he felt you tighten around him, “Are you gonna cum?”

The question wasn’t directed at you but the coil inside you wound tight, leaving you teetering on the edge of your bliss as you waited for something to have you free-falling.

“Shit,” Takiishi rasped, practically curled over you as his hips jerked, his pace faltering as he felt the pleasure building between his thighs.

“Fuck,” Endo growled, a toothy smile spread against his cheeks as he pressed harder against your g-spot, “Fuckin’ cum for me.”

It wasn’t directed at you, but the command had you convulsing, dipping into a high crescendo as you met your climax. Your walls fluttered around the two men as pleasure consumed you. White spots blurred your vision as you barely made out the feeling of Endo ripping his fingers from your warm cunt and moving his hand, still soaked with your slick, to Takiishi’s heavy balls. Moulding them beneath his fingers as he worked to push him over the edge, sitting up on the mattress to get a front-row seat at the debauched view in front of him.

Takiishi was wordless as he came, a guttural grunt forced from deep in his chest the only sound as he fisted the sheets on either side of you. Endo’s hand still milking his balls as he pumped white, hot spurts of cum inside your spent cunt, coating your velvety walls with his release.

“You’re so pretty when you cum.” Endo cooed, watching as Takiishi pulled out of your pulsing hole. His cock glistened with your essence as you left creamy pearlescent rings around the base of his cock.

Takiishi pulled back to assess the gape he’d left between your thighs, watching your hole pulse as it pushed some of his spend out of your abused hole. His cock bobbed in the air as he readjusted himself, reaching out to swipe two fingers against your messy folds to push his load back inside you. Offering the digits to you after as he smoothed them against your glossy lips like a man offering someone a chance to sample the sweetest ambrosia. And you took it gratefully, rolling your tongue around his fingers as you tasted the bitterness of him.

“Clean her up,” Takiishi commanded, pulling his spit-soaked fingers from your mouth as he wiped them against the side of your cheek, “Then you can have my cock.”

Endo gave his cock a final tug before moving his sticky hands to your thighs. Slipping his palms beneath the curve of your knees to manhandle you roughly, as though you were nothing more than a doll. And in reality, that’s exactly what you were— a toy for them to play with when they both got bored.

Your aching thigh held upright as he pushed your ass in the air, your back off the mattress as he pressed the flat of his tongue along your creamy slit. Collecting the cum that your fluttering walls had pushed out of you that drooled down towards your asshole as he cleaned you up.

“You taste so good,” He groaned, greedily pushing his tongue inside your stretched hole to slurp at the mixture Takiishi left behind as his nose nudged your overstimulated clit.

It wasn’t for your pleasure, it rarely was when it came to Endo and yet he still managed to have your eyes rolling back in a matter of minutes as you trashed against the dirty sheets.

Takiishi sat back to watch like he always did, his cock still half-hard and glistening with your slick. Just another part of the vicious cycle that you found yourself in, match after match in a sick game where he always came out as the victor.

Your hand flew out to card through Endo’s messy hair when you felt his teeth nip at your folds in his urgency, crying out as he shot you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, baby,” He cooed, his voice laced with condescension, “I thought you could handle it.”

This wasn’t for your pleasure, it was for his. And yet he still had the coil inside you snapping as he forced you into another gratifying climax. Crying out as your entire body shook from the intensity, your nails stretching against his scalp as he pulled away with glee. Your juices drooled down his chin as he looked to Takiishi, not to you.

“It’s my turn now, yeah?” Endo licked his lips with glee, shamelessly ogling Takiishi’s cock, “You can fuck me, if you want—”

And once again you were reminded of the real reason why you were here, why Endo had picked you in the first place. Another twisted idea is to try and give Takiishi the best time of his life. To prove his love and devotion to a man who would never give him the same kind of reward.

The cloudy lust-filled haze that shrouded your mind now transforms into an almighty storm that has thunder and lightning crashing down around you. Ruining the perfect fantasy you’d concocted and convinced yourself was real.

For now, you were just another player in their sick and twisted game. Because they both want everything from you, but they give you nothing in return.

[vhagarys]

forgive me

aemond x wife!reader

summary: his lady wife summons him to the throne room. the last thing he expected was you sat atop the iron throne.

warnings: as this is a fic written by yours truly, SMUT, oral, masturbation, defiling of iron throne, exhibitionism

MDNI

“well, what do we have here, hm?” aemond couldn’t believe the sight before him.

his deep green riding jacket smothered your small figure. he knew you had on only your sheer, beige night slip underneath. but no, it’s where you sat that directed his attention.

your luscious silver curls and soft features were a stark contrast to the menacing, iron chair you seated yourself.

his wife possessed a teasing nature. it’s one of the reasons he adored you. he always indulged in your jests, delighting in your efforts to provoke a laugh from him.

though, you’d certainly outdone yourself on this night.

the act of anyone besides the king sitting on the throne was highly inappropriate, borderline treasonous.

following his brothers tragic accident, aemond had accepted role as prince regent. he was quite taken with his newfound role as ruler of the realm. the power, the authority he so desperately craved was now in the palm of his hand.

though, such authority didn’t seem to extend to his lady wife.

“warming my seat for me, are you ābrazȳrys?,” (wife) he teased, a smile etched on his face as he admired you from the bottom of the steps.

“pay mind to how you address me, my lord,” your eyes filled with mischief.

you felt his eyes drink in your appearance and you briefly felt a bit sheepish under his scrutiny.

suddenly feeling too exposed, you attempted to subtely adjust his jacket to cover your legs, the action not going unnoticed by your lord husband.

“forgive me, your grace,” he played along, bowing his head as he stood at the foot of the iron throne.

you cleared your throat, determined to maintain your regal persona. “i required your presence immediately. you have committed grave offenses this evening which cannot go unpunished.”

the feeling of sitting atop the icy chair sent a chill up your spine. the heady sensation of claiming yourself on the most coveted seat in the realm clouded your mind.

i can see why he enjoys this, you mused to yourself.

“may I ask which crime I am to answer for, your holiness?” aemond cocked his head, barely containing his smirk.

his bold little wife never failed to keep him on his toes.

“you arrived quite tardy to supper. even more so, you failed to greet me with a proper kiss upon your arrival. tsk, I believe I could have your head for this my lord.”

you felt yourself become more submerged in your role, any trepidations for your actions long gone.

with a bolt of confidence, you held his gaze while you slowly uncrossed your legs, revealing your bare center to him.

his eyes darkened at the sight of you, he could practically smell your arousal from where he stood.

so this is how we’re playing tonight, aemond felt himself stiffen in his breeches as he ascended a step toward you.

you may have started this game, but you both knew he would finish it.

“i’m deeply sorry, your grace. allow me to beg forgiveness for my wrong doings. anything you require.” his mind swirled with thoughts of taking you, perching you on his lap and filling your womb with seed on the throne.

you reveled in the predatory, lustful gaze of your husband. the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms at your mercy. or so you thought.

“i suppose there is a way to repent your crimes,” you reached for the first button and began to slowly release them one by one, revealing your hardened buds poking through your slip.

you might have been worried of someone else entering, but the euphoria of witnessing the effect you had on your husband clouded your better judgement.

unfastening the remaining button, you stood gracefully and let the fabric pool at your feet.

you were no targaryen. however aemond knew the fiery blood of the dragon coursed through your veins. no other lady of the court would play this dangerous game, would speak to him with such boldness.

he craved to taste you. he craved to grab at your soft flesh and indulge in the nectar between your legs.

the coolness of the metal seeped though your thin nightgown as you reclaimed your spot on the throne. your legs spread just wide enough you knew he could see the wetness seeping from your core.

daringly, your fingers floated down to your center. you began to rub circles on your clit, your lips parted as arousal fueled your fingers to continue.

he knew what you wanted, and was more than happy to oblige.

slowly and methodically, aemond approached you. meeting his lustful gaze, you watched as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“may I, your grace?” he whispered, you could do nothing but nod as his fingers slowly ran up your exposed leg. his touch searing into your skin, you unconsciously spread your legs wider.

large hands roughly gripped the back of your knees, a low growl was all you heard before he dragged his warm, wet muscle through your dripping folds.

“gods,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt more arousal drip from your center and onto his devilish tongue.

“fuck you taste heavenly,” he drawled, suckling at your entrance, you gasped.

he set an unforgiving rhythm devouring your cunt.

lost in the throes of pleasure, your hands found purchase in his silver strands, tugging desperately whenever he applied pressure to your pearl.

if you weren’t disoriented by the assault on your cunny, you may have reddened at how quickly you could feel the coil in your belly about to snap.

“p-please my love. i’m close,” you begged, long forgetting the domineering facade you fabricated earlier.

fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg, his member hardened painfully watching your eyes fill with tears.

only sparing a moment away from your cunt, he commanded, “such a good girl for asking. go on, make a mess for me.”

with a final flick of his tongue, you cried out as you came undone. your body spasmed as the waves of your peak flowed through you.

soon, your body went limp and were close to falling back onto the swords behind you before you were scooped up by your husband.

draping his jacket over your frame, he quickly brought you to your shared chambers, making sure no eyes were present in the corridors.

lowering your body onto the bed, you were instantly met with fluffy blankets and you sighed in content.

expecting your husband to join you, you opened your eyes only to find him completely bare, looming over the bed. seeing him in all of his glory always seemed to stir something within you.

“i hope I am forgiven for my misdeeds from earlier?” you nodded.

he grinned and looked down to trace the patterns on the bed sheet, “do you think we are through, little wife? you didn’t think I would punish you for that little stunt you pulled?”

he grabbed your ankle and swiftly dragged you to the foot of the bed.

stunned by his sudden roughness, words escaped you as he grasped you by the chin and whispered “va ry izula, sir.”

(on all fours,now)

another mind dump of aemond, surprise surprise ;)

- alice

[nayziiz]

Winner | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (she/her)

Warnings: Smut, fluff, praise kink, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Carlos's heart pounded with adrenaline as he surged ahead, the roar of the engine drowning out the crowd's cheers. He had waited for this moment, trained for it relentlessly, and now, as he soared past the faltering leader, the taste of victory was tantalizingly close.

But even in the midst of his triumph, a small voice of caution whispered in his mind. He knew all too well the unpredictable nature of motorsport, the countless variables that could turn a seemingly certain win into bitter disappointment. It was this awareness, this ability to remain rational in the face of intense emotion, that had often set him apart on the track.

As he navigated the twists and turns of the circuit, his mind raced along with his car. He analyzed every corner, every potential pitfall, constantly adjusting his strategy to stay ahead of the competition. Despite his hot-headed nature, there was a methodical precision to his driving, a calculated aggression that made him a force to be reckoned with.

But then, just as victory seemed within his grasp, disaster struck. A sudden jolt, a grinding noise from the engine, and Carlos's heart sank. The mechanical gremlins that had plagued the previous leader had now found their way into his own car, threatening to derail his dreams.

In that moment, the fiery temper that lay dormant beneath Carlos's cool exterior flared to life. Frustration and anger bubbled up within him, threatening to consume his rationality. He pounded his fists against the steering wheel, cursing the cruel twist of fate that had robbed him of his chance at glory.

But even as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, a calm resolve settled over Carlos. He knew that losing his temper now would only compound his misfortune. With steely determination, he forced himself to focus, to push aside the frustration and channel his energy into finding a solution.

With a series of quick adjustments and some expertly timed maneuvers, Carlos managed to nurse his ailing car across the finish line, clinching victory by the narrowest of margins. As he stepped out of the cockpit to the deafening roar of the crowd, there was no trace of the anger that had threatened to consume him moments before. Instead, there was only the triumphant smile of a racer who had faced adversity head-on and emerged victorious.

As she stood in the garage, eyes fixed on the screen displaying the unfolding drama on the track, a sense of déjà vu washed over her. It was as if time had folded back upon itself, transporting her to another moment, another race, another victory.

Singapore. The memory flooded her mind with vivid clarity. The thrill of watching Carlos tear through the night, the elation as he crossed the finish line first, the overwhelming rush of emotion that had followed. She could still feel the electricity in the air, the palpable excitement that had enveloped them all as they celebrated his triumph.

And now, as she watched him once again poised on the brink of victory, that same sense of anticipation crackled in the air. If this race unfolded as she hoped, if Carlos once again emerged triumphant, she would gladly join him in releasing that pent-up adrenaline, in reveling in the euphoria of success.

She could already imagine the scene: the champagne spraying, the cheers ringing out, the infectious joy radiating from Carlos as he basked in the glow of his accomplishment. And she would be right there beside him, sharing in his moment of glory, savoring every second of the celebration.

As the final moments of the race ticked away, her heart raced in time with the cars on the screen. Victory was tantalizingly close now, just within reach. And if history repeated itself, if Carlos crossed that finish line first once again, she would be ready to join him in letting loose the floodgates of exhilaration, to savor the sweet taste of success together.

As Carlos basked in the glow of his first win of the season, the atmosphere in the paddock crackled with excitement and jubilation. Cheers echoed through the air, champagne flowed freely, and the buzz of media activity filled every corner.

But amidst the celebrations and post-race obligations, Carlos couldn't shake the longing to find her, to share this moment of triumph with the one person who mattered most to him. After his fleeting moment on the podium, he sought her out, eager to revel in their victory together.

With the door securely locked behind them, Carlos felt the weight of anticipation settle in the air like a charged current. He stood for a moment, savoring the thrill of the moment, the hunger building within him like a predator poised to strike.

In the dim light of the driver's room, he could see her silhouette, a tantalizing figure bathed in the soft glow of victory. He could almost taste the adrenaline that lingered on her skin, mingling with the heady scent of his own cologne, sweat, and the remnants of champagne from their celebration.

She remained still, a silent beacon drawing him closer with each passing moment. There was a knowing in her stance, a silent invitation for him to take the lead, to guide their movements with a primal urgency that mirrored the intensity of their shared desire.

With a predatory grace, Carlos closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate and purposeful. There was no need for words in this moment, no need for hesitation. They both understood the silent language of desire, the unspoken connection that bound them together in this private sanctuary of intimacy.

As he reached her side, he allowed himself to drink in the sight of her, to revel in the magnetic pull that drew them together. And then, with a hunger that bordered on desperation, he claimed her neck in a searing kiss, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed them both in its fierce embrace.

“Hands behind your back, baby,” Carlos directed her, his words laced with a raw intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Without hesitation, she complied, clasping her hands behind her back as he had instructed. As she surrendered to his command, he couldn't help but feel a surge of power coursing through him. There was something undeniably intoxicating about the way she willingly relinquished control, placing her trust entirely in his hands.

He watched her closely, his gaze lingering on the sight of her bound wrists, a potent symbol of her submission to his desires. It was a rare and beautiful sight, seeing her yield so completely to him, allowing him to take the reins and guide their shared passion to new heights.

“You did so well, baby,” she murmured, her voice finally finding its way through the haze of desire that enveloped them.

“I know,” he replied with a cocky smirk, his confidence radiating like a palpable force. “Turn around, cariño.”

Without a moment's hesitation, she acquiesced, turning to face him with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. As she shifted, she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers, his hands finding purchase at her waist before trailing down to her hips, pulling her irresistibly closer to him.

With each breath, the air between them crackled with electricity, a potent mixture of desire and anticipation that seemed to hang in the air like a tangible force. She could feel the heat of his gaze boring into her, igniting a fierce firestorm of longing deep within her core.

As their bodies melded together, every touch, every caress sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her veins, setting her aflame with a need that bordered on desperation. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of them, locked in a passionate embrace that transcended time and space.

With a soft gasp, she leaned into him, her body arching against his in silent invitation. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, she knew with a certainty that bordered on certainty that this moment, this connection, was something truly special

“Keep your hands back there, okay?” Carlos reminded her, his voice low and commanding.

“Yes, baby,” she responded obediently, her breath hitching with anticipation.

With deliberate care, Carlos knelt before her, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for the zipper of her black satin skirt. His touch was gentle, reverent almost, as he teased the fabric apart, inch by tantalizing inch.

Normally, in the heat of the moment, Carlos's passion could sometimes lead to clothing casualties—ripped zippers, broken buttons—but tonight was different. Tonight, he took his time, savoring the thrill of anticipation as he slowly undid the fastenings, each movement a delicious torment that left her trembling with desire.

As the fabric pooled at her feet, he looked up at her with a hunger that mirrored her own, his eyes dark with desire.

“You're going to be quiet, right, cariño?” Carlos's voice held a hint of playful warning, his gaze locking with hers.

“I'll try but I make no promises,” she replied, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. A smirk tugged at the corners of Carlos's lips as he heard her response.

“That's right, you love making noise for me, don't you?” He teased, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and desire. Her breath caught in her throat at his words, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she nodded in agreement.

“Yes, baby,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breathless murmur.

“Then let's see just how quiet you can be, shall we?” Carlos leaned in closer, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered.

As her underwear slipped down her legs and pooled at her ankles, Carlos wasted no time in discarding them entirely, his focus solely on the woman before him. With a hunger that burned bright in his eyes, he trailed soft, featherlight kisses along the tender flesh of her thighs, each caress igniting a firestorm of sensation that raced through her veins.

The gentle touch of his lips against her skin was enough to elicit a shiver of pleasure, her breath hitching in her throat as she surrendered to the exquisite torture of his ministrations. Without conscious thought, she spread her legs ever so slightly, a silent invitation for him to explore further.

His hands, warm and possessive, roamed freely over the smooth expanse of her thighs, tracing delicate patterns that sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. A soft moan escaped her lips as she threw her head back, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

“You remember the safe word?” Carlos's voice was firm, tinged with concern as he sought reassurance.

“Yes, baby,” she replied, her tone steady and unwavering.

“And, you'll stop me if it gets too much,” he pressed, his gaze searching hers for any hint of hesitation.

“Yes, baby,” she affirmed, her voice carrying a note of confidence.

“Are you certain?” His question hung in the air, a final plea for confirmation.

“You know what I like and I know my limits,” she assured him, her conviction unwavering.

“What's the safe word, baby?” Carlos's voice softened slightly, a gentle reminder of the trust that bound them together.

“Chili,” she replied without hesitation, her voice steady and sure.

“Good girl,” Carlos murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to press a tender kiss against her thigh.

The subtle defiance in her backchat ignited a primal fire within Carlos, fueling his desire to possess her completely. With each playful exchange, his arousal surged, his cock growing harder with each passing moment.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Carlos teased her with the lightest touch of his index finger, tracing delicate patterns along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He reveled in the way her breath hitched in response, her body responding eagerly to his every touch.

Despite the lingering soreness from their passionate encounter the night before, she was still wet and ready for him, her arousal evident in the way her slickness coated his fingers. He savored the sensation, his cock throbbing with anticipation as he explored the depths of her desire.

“You'll stop me, cariño?” Carlos's voice held a note of urgency, his gaze locked with hers as he sought confirmation of her consent.

Though she struggled to find her voice amidst the onslaught of pleasure coursing through her, she made sure to meet his gaze with a firm nod, her eyes speaking volumes where words failed her.

Encouraged by her silent affirmation, Carlos continued his ministrations, teasing her entrance with his finger before pressing into her with deliberate intent. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips at the exquisite sensation of him filling her, her body responding eagerly to his touch.

Despite their previous escapades, she remained wonderfully tight, her arousal evident in the way she welcomed him with a fierce hunger that matched his own. With practiced skill, he found her clit with his thumb, the throbbing bundle of nerves already swollen and sensitive under his touch.

As he began to rub circles over her clit, her breath caught in her throat, her body arching instinctively towards him in silent plea for more. With each tantalizing stroke, he felt her arousal building, her desire spiraling higher and higher until she teetered on the edge of ecstasy, on the brink of surrendering herself entirely to the pleasure he offered.

Feeling her hands instinctively reaching out to him, Carlos paused his motions, a subtle reminder of the boundaries they had agreed upon. With a firm but gentle tone, he issued his command once more.

“Hands behind your back,” he instructed, his voice laced with authority as he sought to regain control of the situation.

Despite the surge of desire coursing through him, Carlos remained steadfast in his resolve, determined to honor the trust she had placed in him. He watched closely as she complied, her movements slow and deliberate as she obeyed his command.

As her hands found their place behind her back once more, he felt a surge of pride swell within him, a testament to the strength of their connection and the unwavering trust they shared. And with a renewed sense of purpose, Carlos resumed his motions, his touch igniting a fierce firestorm of pleasure that consumed them both in its fiery embrace.

As she gulped, a sense of frustration mingled with anticipation washed over her, the memory of her orders echoing in her mind. The desire to reach out and touch him, to feel his warmth beneath her fingertips, burned fiercely within her, but she knew that patience was key.

With each passing moment, the longing to feel his touch, to intertwine their bodies in a symphony of passion, intensified. But she held firm, reminding herself of the promise that lay just beyond her restraint.

She knew that eventually, he would grant her permission to touch him, to explore every inch of his skin with the same fervor that he showed her. And when that moment came, when she felt his hands upon her once more, she knew that it would all be worth it—the frustration, the restraint, the anticipation—everything would pale in comparison to the ecstasy of their shared embrace.

As Carlos continued his relentless assault on her clit, his movements alternating between teasing and pumping, she felt her arousal building to dizzying heights. With each stroke, each thrust of his fingers inside her, she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure, her body responding with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

Her thighs quivered with the intensity of her arousal, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she teetered on the edge of ecstasy. It wasn't long before she felt herself stretching to accommodate a second finger, the sensation pushing her even closer to the brink of release.

But even as pleasure threatened to overwhelm her, she couldn't shake the feeling of being overstimulated, of being pushed to her limits by the intensity of their encounter. It was as if something in the air, something in the very essence of Australia itself, had ignited a primal fire within them both, driving them to new heights of passion and desire.

As Carlos continued his relentless assault on her senses, her moans grew shallower, each breathy gasp a testament to the ecstasy that threatened to consume her entirely. She chased her high with single-minded determination, her body trembling with the intensity of her arousal.

“That's good, baby,” Carlos murmured, his voice a soothing presence amidst the whirlwind of sensation. “Keep your voice low.”

His words were a gentle reminder of the need for discretion, a silent agreement between them to keep their passion contained within the confines of their private sanctuary. And as she struggled to comply, to stifle the cries of pleasure threatening to spill from her lips, she felt a surge of arousal coursing through her veins, driving her ever closer to the brink of release.

Sensing her arousal reaching a fever pitch, Carlos knew that she was on the brink of release. With a mix of restraint and desire, he withdrew his fingers, a sudden absence of his touch leaving her gasping for more.

The abrupt lack of sensation sent a jolt of longing coursing through her body, her hips instinctively arching towards him in search of the pleasure she so desperately craved. She whimpered softly, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to cope with the sudden emptiness inside her.

“Baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a potent mix of desire and need.

With a reassuring smile, Carlos met her gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“Don't worry, cariño,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the ache of longing that pulsed through her veins. “I'm not done with you yet.”

As Carlos stood before her, shedding his race suit and fireproofs with deliberate precision, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of him. With each movement, his toned muscles flexed and rippled beneath his skin, his body a testament to the physical demands of their sport.

Her breath caught in her throat as his cock sprang free, solid and throbbing with arousal, the sight of him sending a jolt of desire coursing through her veins. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipation, knowing all too well the intensity of his desire to claim her.

This was what she had been expecting when he took the lead of the race—the raw, primal need that burned bright in his eyes, the insatiable hunger that drove him to seek out her touch with a desperation that bordered on madness.

With deliberate care, Carlos pulled her up onto the massage table, positioning himself between her legs with a primal hunger burning in his eyes. He kissed her with a tender urgency, savoring the taste of her lips against his own, before slowly entering her, inch by agonizing inch.

As he filled her, stretching her to accommodate his size, he could feel her walls clenching around him, her body instinctively adjusting to the intimate intrusion. Sensing her need for a moment to acclimate, he paused, his gaze locked with hers as he watched the myriad of emotions flicker across her face.

Her eyes were closed in blissful surrender, her lips parted in a silent plea for more. And in that moment, Carlos felt a surge of pride and desire swell within him, completely infatuated by the woman who had offered herself so completely to him.

With a smirk of satisfaction, he resumed his slow, steady thrusts, each movement driving them both closer to the edge of ecstasy. In this intimate dance of passion, there was no need for words—their bodies spoke a language of their own, a symphony of pleasure and desire that echoed through the dimly lit room.

“Carlos, baby, you need to move, please,” she pleaded, her voice laced with urgency as she yearned for the friction and rhythm only he could provide.

“So desperate for me, huh?” Carlos teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he reveled in the intensity of her need.

“I need it, baby. Please,” she implored, her words a desperate plea for release as her body thrummed with anticipation.

Carlos's breathy chuckle mingled with the symphony of their shared passion as he began to move, his movements slow and deliberate at first, building momentum with each thrust. He could feel her body responding eagerly to his touch, her moans growing louder with each passing moment.

As she fought to contain her urges, to resist the overwhelming need to grasp him and hold him close, Carlos felt a surge of arousal stir in his groin. The sound of her moans, the sight of her writhing beneath him in pleasure, ignited a primal fire within him, driving him to new heights of desire.

With each increase in speed, he felt himself completely filling her up, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony as they surrendered themselves to the ecstasy of the moment.

Feeling her hands being guided beneath her belly button, she opened her eyes, curiosity flickering in their depths as she glanced down to see what Carlos was doing. As he pressed her hands into her lower abdomen, she felt a slight movement beneath her fingertips, a sensation that sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through her body.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she adjusted to the feeling, her senses overwhelmed by the intimate connection between them.

“You feel that?” His words hung in the air between them, heavy with raw desire and a primal intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, her body quivering with pleasure at the sensation of him deep inside her.

“That's me fucking deep inside you,” Carlos murmured, his voice thick with arousal as he reveled in the intimate connection they shared.

As Carlos positioned her hands on his shoulders, a surge of anticipation raced through her veins, her body trembling with the intensity of their shared desire. With a primal urgency, he began to thrust, each movement hard and rapid, driving her to the brink of ecstasy with each powerful motion.

Some of his thrusts caused her to flinch, the sensation of him filling her completely both thrilling and overwhelming. She could feel herself bruising all over again, the reminder of their previous night's passion adding to the intensity of the moment. Yet despite the ache, despite the slight sting of pain, it all felt too good to resist.

And then, as pleasure surged through her body like a tidal wave, she came undone, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of her release. Her body shook with the force of her climax, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy as she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure coursing through her veins.

Her hands searched for some grip on his skin, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as she held on for dear life, leaving scratches in her wake. And as she reached the peak of her pleasure, she felt Carlos tensing beneath her, his own release imminent.

With one final, primal cry, he came inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release as they rode out the waves of pleasure together.

As Carlos continued to thrust through her orgasm, a primal need drove him to push their pleasure to new heights. With a surge of determination, he pulled out and spun her around, his movements swift and purposeful as he positioned her upper body onto the massage table and spread her legs wide.

She clung to the table for support, her body trembling with a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation as Carlos resumed his thrusts. With each powerful motion, she fought to keep her legs steady, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared desire.

But as pleasure built once more, she began to feel a twinge of pain, a nagging ache that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. Unsure whether it was the position or if her body had reached its limits, she pushed through, determined to chase her pleasure to its ultimate climax.

And then, just as she felt a second orgasm approaching, Carlos hit a particular spot that sent a jolt of pain shooting through her body, causing her legs to wobble beneath her. In that moment, she realized that her body had reached its breaking point, her pleasure giving way to the sharp sting of discomfort.

As she whispered the safe word, “Chili,” her voice barely above a breathless murmur, Carlos's movements faltered, a flicker of concern crossing his features. But with the intensity of their passion clouding his senses, her words went unheard as he continued thrusting, lost in the heat of the moment.

“Chili, chili,” she repeated, her voice growing slightly louder in a desperate plea for him to stop.

Sensing her distress, Carlos's instincts kicked in, and almost immediately, he ceased his movements and pulled out, his expression shifting from desire to concern. With the cum oozing out of her, a silent testament to their shared pleasure, Carlos turned her around and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to steady her trembling form.

“Are you okay, cariño?” Carlos's voice was filled with concern as he held her close, his arms a comforting presence around her trembling form.

She didn't answer immediately, her mind still reeling from the shock of having to use the safe word for the first time. She had never asked him to stop before, but the pain had become too much to bear.

“I'm fine, it just hurt a bit,” she finally replied, her voice soft and slightly strained as she tried to downplay the discomfort she was feeling.

Carlos's expression softened with understanding as he held her tighter, his heart aching at the thought of causing her any pain. With gentle hands, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch a silent apology for pushing her beyond her limits.

“I'm sorry, cariño,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Carlos fetched a towel and gently cleaned her up, his heart weighed heavy with guilt for pushing her past her limits. With each tender touch, he was careful not to overstimulate her further, his movements slow and deliberate as he wiped away the remnants of their passion.

Once she was cleaned up, he helped her back onto the massage table, his touch gentle and reassuring as he helped her put her panties and skirt back on. She was exhausted from the episode, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of their encounter, and he could see the fatigue etched into her features.

With a pang of remorse, Carlos watched as she lay down, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to regain her composure. He knew that she needed time to rest and recuperate, to recover from the intensity of their shared experience.

He cleaned himself up and changed into his casual clothes and kept stealing glances at her, his heart heavy with worry. But with each reassuring word she spoke, each gentle touch she offered, he felt a small measure of relief wash over him.

She was fine. She reassured him of that fact time and time again. And as he settled down beside her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close, he knew that he was the one person she trusted more than anyone else in the world.

Carlos kissed her gently, his touch a soothing balm against the ache of her body and soul, she felt a sense of safety and comfort wash over her. In his arms, she found solace from the storm of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm her, her fears and doubts melting away beneath the warmth of his love.

With each caress of her cheek, each tender gesture, Carlos reaffirmed his devotion to her, his love a beacon of light in the darkness of their shared struggles. She knew that despite the momentary pain, she was safe with him, cherished and adored beyond measure.

Wrapped in his embrace, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, a quiet calm that whispered of better days to come. For in his arms, she found not only love, but strength—the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that together, they could overcome anything.

She was and always would be addicted to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. But she also knew her limits, understood the importance of self-care and self-preservation. And as she nestled closer to him, surrendering herself to the warmth of his embrace, she knew that no matter what trials they faced, they would face them together, bound by a love that knew no bounds.

[tojisun]

Angsty thot on the the ghost x reader x soap blurb;

I've been thinking about the what if Soap did actually reciprocate Ghost's advances? For a moment, he forgets reader. Finally, FINALLY, Soap thinks... until the bliss dies down and he remembers reader and guilt sets in. Ghost's only all too happy to show off to reader. Being affectionate with Johhny, leaving whatever marks were left visible, staking a claim that he won.

Reader, of course, is dismayed and feels betrayed. But how much can she really feel? It fucking sucks, it does, that Ghost doesn't care what she thinks or feels and she wasn't in a committed relationship with Soap. So if they were to pursue a relationship, what can she really do about it?

HOW I AM AFTER READING THIS anon i wanna crawl into your mind and poke around your brain because how could you (ext)

johnny knows he hasn’t been honest with himself lately. that, in the face of ghost’s desires—because nothing less could describe the fire in his lieutenant’s eyes; it’s all so heated and leashed. hungry. aching—he denies himself and pretends he cannot see what is crystal clear.

he pretends that every brushing touch was an accident, that every heavy look was a trick of the light. that the way simon calls his name—johnny, with the ‘y’ dripping from his mouth like honey—was all circumstantial.

friendly. platonic, truly.

but it’s becoming more frequent. more passionate. more territorial.

of course, it was all a matter of when, really, was johnny going to fall. and the answer, apparently, is right now.

his shirt is torn off his body, fatigues falling beside two pairs of boots. warm lips, fever-hot, are on his skin, tracing scalding trails that has him trembling. he feels jittery, bones rattling within his flesh. he feels untethered, floaty. nirvana pinched between his fingers.

then, he falls, body thudding against the mattress. the metal of his bed posts creaks, a gunshot in the silence, and johnny freezes. his mind catching up to his heart.

this isn’t—

simon towers over him, his scarred chest heaving in his ragged breaths. the mask is off, discarded to the floor, and johnny, he—

well.

he sees the man that his soul sings to—cheeks flushed, bright cherries, and eyes dark with yearning. simon looks at him like johnny’s all that matters in the world; like all that he’s fighting to live for is johnny.

johnny feels this bloating in the back of his throat, something in his heart swelling until all he tastes is his breaths. his lips wobble, teeth chattering. they stop at ghost’s tender touch, his callused hand cupping johnny’s cheek.

simon's thumb swipes at the skin just underneath his eyes. his lips, crooked, tug up in a smile. “y’r much too gorgeous, johnny.”

johnny doesn’t know what happened next, only that he was stuffed with a burn that scorches from within and engulfed whole; devoured every way possible until simon's marks—from teeth and just his overall brute strength—took. his throat aches, scratchy, and his skin throbs with the memory of their love-making.

he, well, he wept. he tucked his head on the crook of simon's neck, breathing him in, unable to explain the euphoria simmering in the pit of his stomach.

simon loves him. he desired him every way possible so who wouldn't—

who wouldn't lose themselves?

(johnny thinks of you and the memories blur; what had been fiery passion morphs into something ugly. into something cruel.)

there was something different in ghost's gait—that's the first thing you noticed upon walking into the mess hall. he was more relaxed, more open in a way you have never seen from him before. he even met your eyes as you walk towards their little huddled group, the first time in a while, and you are unable to look away because there was something in his gaze that you couldn't quite place.

it still spoke of danger, of a walled barrier that he firmly put between you two, but it was undiscernible.

still poised, though, for the hunt.

kyle greets you first, kind and gentle, but before you could reply to him, johnny's tugging you away. a protest builds on the tip of your tongue, ready to slip past your chapped lips, but you freeze, feet stumbling as the air is knocked out of your lungs.

"bonnie–"

"oh," you say, a whispered gasp, your eyes unable to drag from the bruises on johnny's neck. not made with unkind intensions, if the teeth mars were any indication.

briefly, you wondered if johnny's met someone else to satiate his desires. if, in your absence, he sought to snuff the burning need from someone else. you've been away for three months, after all, chasing a lead in shanghai and tracking them all the way to tianjin. it must have been too long for johnny too.

(you wonder why your heart twinges at the idea of johnny finding comfort in someone else that isn't you.)

but the thought is doused by an ice-cold realization.

"it's– you know that i–"

"oi, 'tavish," ghost's voice rings from behind you.

you tip your head back just enough to see him, to see with your eyes what must he must have done, but he's back to ignoring you again.

it seemed like now that you've noticed what it was that had him elated, ghost no longer wanted to interact with you. not a word nor a touch. not even a glance.

johnny bites his bottom lip, shoulders hunching into himself.

"i'm sor–"

"i have to go," you say, your voice even sounds foreign to your own ears. "i have to, uhm, to report."

you shuffle away from between them, your palm rising to press onto your chest as though that could truly stop the splintering of your heart. as though your heart was truly wounded and that the pressure could stop the bleeding.

but it aches. dear god, everything aches.

ANON THIS HURT ME SO BAD AND I COULDNT HELP MYSELF FROM RAMBLING IM SORRY!! god im wailing so much like i literally was bug eyed staring at ur ask bc OW??? (btw reader is gn in this ghoap x reader angst)

[he3ts]

FOR YOUR LOVE , masterlist

( nam gyu x reader (rockstar au), thanos x reader )

warnings: to be consistent with the plot reader is danish, smut, drugs, alcohol, explicit content, lots of music, for this story i was inspired exclusively by the discography of måneskin. i was inspired by one of their songs for this story.

plot: you and nam gyu don't get along. never. he is arrogant, prickly, always ready to challenge you with sharp jokes and fiery glances. you, you are exactly like him, a devil incarnate in a woman figure. you must be perfect, as the guitarist of saurer sarg, a rock band on the rise.

on stage you are a shadow moving between sharp riffs and fiery solos, but out of there the real show is your relationship with nam gyu, the drummer. you prick each other relentlessly, always on the edge between rivalry and something more, something neither of you has ever had the courage to really face.

then there is thanos, the charismatic frontman. when you start writing songs with him, the complicity between you becomes obvious. every note, every word seems to bring you closer and closer, and suddenly nam gyu is no longer just the guy you argue with over every musical detail-he's the one who looks at you in silence when you think you don't notice.

but success brings with it the weight of choices. the tour lengthens, tensions rise, and the distance between you becomes deeper than the music can bridge. as the band begins to crumble, you are faced with a question that is not just about the music: who are you when the lights go out? and who do you really want by your side when everything seems to fall apart?

SAURER SARG ( MEMBERS )

— the guitarist,, you

— the drummer ,, nam gyu

— the singer ,, choi su bong

— the bass player ,, se mi

DISCOGRAPHY ( SONGS )

20 years ( written by thanos )

" i'm twenty years old

and i don't give a shit, i have zero to prove to you

i'm not like you who give your soul to money

from the eyes of the pure you are only cowards "

hate ( written by thanos )

" let's spend the rest of life together tonight

life is being with you in bed, everything else is waiting

we own ourselves only the time we spend together

and to both of us so it fits "

malak ( written by thanos )

" something is moving (euphoria, i'm crazy about you)

it's us against the light (euphoria, i'm crazy about you)

the birth of another venus is you and me "

the essence of the universe ( written by se mi )

" this morning i was on my way to work

i thought i'm not like them

i am a fountain pen

ink on the skin of others, a means of making sense

to the dirt on the hands of those who dig into mental problems "

the man who loved women ( written by you )

" only you, forgetting you is hard

you were a little more

i liked the way you loved

how much of a man you are

if i'm not around

you consume me in a day

waiting for a farewell "

escort ( written by nam gyu )

" come on you are ashamed

we've been here for more than an hour, you get undressed

you don't want to throw your money away

you don't need the eyes excuse anymore

it's not a vice if i do it once in a while

do you mind if i call you once in a while?

i didn't think i liked you so much

if you keep it up I swear i'll have a heart attack "

goodbye ( written by thanos )

" i never really remember how i started

we never really stop when we start

if freedom is a teenager's mistake

to love without asking, to hate without understanding "

i want you ( written by nam gyu )

" you, i feel like you're terrorised

i have a feeling

i feel like telling you now

hey, i feel like love is good

it's such a big deal

i feel like telling you now "

FOR YOUR LOVE ( CHAPTERS )

i. years to grow

new chapters coming soon

[willoryn]

Satisfy your devil~

GN!ReaderxLucifer

Oral (Lucifer receiving)

~♡~

You're kneeling down in front of Lucifer as he sits on the edge of his bed, mouth watering as your eyes trail over the length of his cock that is currently standing at attention and twitching before you. He's running one of his hands through your hair and the other is gently stroking himself, delighting in the way you seem to be transfixed on him.

"Is this what you want, angel?" He asks, smiling.

You nod enthusiastically.

"Then you can have me, darling." His fiery red eyes flicker and his smile widens. "Then it's my turn~"

"Yes sir~"

He brings your head in closer and positions his tip mere inches from your lips. Your tongue immediately laps at it, seeking out the pre-cum dripping from him. Earning you your first deep groan from him.

"Eager, aren't we?" He coos, pushing it towards you. Your heart thumping hard against your chest over what you are about to receive, you open your lips.

Both of you moan simultaneously when you welcome him into your wet and waiting mouth. It takes everything he has not to thrust his hips. Your mouth is so warm and positively salivating all around him, encompassing him in complete euphoria.

"Your lips feel so good around my cock, darling~" he growls.

A moan escapes him when you suck him in further. Your tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock, running up along the hard muscle. You feel his whole body shudder as you nearly take him all the way to the hilt. But you quickly slide away as to not immediately start gagging on it.

As you begin your rhythm, your eyes never leave his face. You want to watch him melt in front of you as you pump him in and out of your mouth. Watch him absolutely lose himself in the pleasure you are giving him. His brows are furrowed, focused completely on you switching between licking and sucking in a way that makes his breathing become irregular. Little moans and whimpers escape his lips as your tongue flicks over particularly sensitive nerves.

You do your best to focus on those areas in particular. There is a spot you know he really likes a little closer to the base of his cock, closer to his balls. You pull your mouth off him, earning a disappointed whimper. But it's only long enough for you to run your tongue over that little dip between his dick and his testes.

Your name falls from his lips like a sacred chant. His breath hitching and catching in his throat as you continue to torture him. You feel his cock twitching painfully against your cheek. Desperate for more attention. You press your tongue into his skin further, toying with that little bundle of nerves he loves so much. You can't help but smile when you see his tail appear behind him, whipping and twitching against the bed in pure bliss.

"My love-! P-Please!" He groans. His entire face hot with blush. "I-I can't take it...!"

With a mischievous giggle, you decide to give him a break when you return his full cock to your mouth, your lips wrapping back around him and your tongue delighting in the taste of even more pre-cum that has now completely slicked his tip.

"Fuck...!" he growls. "You're mouth is so sweet..."

You moan around him, taking him in even deeper. Desperate for more praise. Your mouth is pure sin. Your tongue swirls around his sensitive head. You nip at it gently, eliciting little pleasured yelps from the man. But the small pain is quickly salved by your heavenly mouth encompassing him again and again. Tongue continuing to write words of love and devotion all over his throbbing cock.

"God-! So good...!" Lucifer grips the bed so tightly you swore you heard the sound of fabric tearing. Your feel his fingers in your hair twitching. After brushing your tongue across his slit, his hips buck up into your mouth involuntarily. "I-I'm sorry!" He whimpers out. "You're so fucking good-! A-Ah-!"

You hum happily in response. You love making him feel good. Making him unravel at your touch. Making him give into his more carnal side~

"I-I'm getting close, love," Lucifer pants. "Please, don't stop!"

Keeping a consistent rhythm, you pump him in and out. Not slowing down for a moment as you help push him further towards the edge. It doesn't take long. You feel the air around you snap and crackle like fire. His body grows hotter and his cock stiffens even more until he can't hold on.

With a demonic growl, Lucifer releases onto your tongue. His hot seed spilling into your mouth in white ribbons. You're determined to swallow all of it. Pride swells up in your chest as you clean him up with your tongue. Lapping up every bit of him you can.

Lucifer waits for you to finish before removing his hand from your hair. His chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing. He stares at you in disbelief, unsure if you are truly real...

"Thank you..." he says breathlessly, helping you to your feet and bringing you in for a kiss.

You are about to tell him it's no problem at all. Bringing him pleasure is truly one of your greatest joys. There is nothing you wouldn't do for him-

But you are suddenly spun around so that your back is now to the bed. He lays you down against the soft comforter and starts moving down your body to your pants. You now notice a very prominent pair of horns atop his head and his tail is waving back and forth enthusiastically.

"Like I said before," he says, his voice down a deeper tone, dripping with sinful desire. "Now It's my turn~"

Your whole body shivers when you feel his hands on your hips, aiming to remove the clothes currently separating you from his mouth. Your heart starts pounding a hundred miles a minute in excitement over what is about to come.

Anything to satisfy your devil~

[specsthesecond]

❤️‍🔥

His molten tears fall down to your face but they don't burn.

He's wanted to touch you for so long. So many nights he's dreamt of this.

Your body under his, his fiery hands tracing the curves of your soft naked skin. His searing hot lips finally kissing yours, finally tasting you. Your own tears hiss into vapour as they streak down your cheeks, your sweat evaporating off your skin.

He knows he should be more cautious, neither of you actually know how well this fire resistant potion works but he's way too far gone now. He holds you so close as you get used to the strange feeling of his blazing skin touching you. You didn't expect it but under the deceptive wisps of flames covering him was a solid amalgamation of heat and you were touching it, you were touching him.

When he eases inside you, you both cry out your shared euphoria. His hot mouth can't seem to leave your skin, your hands can't leave his body. He bottoms out, hard sweltering cock deep inside you. The feeling is so strange but you have no time to dwell on it, his flame lights a fire inside you (literally and figuratively).

You look into his smoldering eyes, wiping away his tears as he sets a sensual pace. It's like he's trying to touch every part of you, like he'll never get to do it again and you can't help but share the sentiment. Your bodies mold together, so incompatible but it feels so perfect.

His fingers touch all the right spots, he's dreamed about exactly where he'd touch you in this moment. His blazing hot fingers rub your clit as his tongue scorches your throat. You cum together, he releases hot magma that has your walls clenching around him, begging for all of it. You wish you could keep him inside you forever.

You're crying again but for a different reason now. This has to end. The potion will wear off eventually and you'll be separated again. Now that you've had a taste how can you let go?

Your tears sizzle away when he gently cradles your cheeks in his hands. You squint through blurry wet eyes, his face says everything he can't say in that moment.

He'll never give up on you. He'll only let go temporarily for your safety but he won't rest until you find a way to be together like you're clearly meant to be, especially now that he's had a taste of you.

You'll find a way.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Moon

summary: three hours prior, Simon had told Maddie he'd loved her. That she hadn't needed to say it back. And he'd been sure that'd been fine...until that strange, hedonist ghost connection you'd told him you'd shared with Wally had returned with a vengeance, effecting not just you and Wally, but everyone within its radius.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. sex pollen basically. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.10

"She's too young to understand," Nanna scolded, "It's ridiculous anyway, he's my husband. Family."

Ginny spoke next, vexed, and it was clearly an argument they'd had many times before. "You aren't connected to that piece of the Awen, Abigail. You don't have to uphold the same obligations as we do."

You sat quietly at the top of the stairs. Even at six-years-old, you understood you'd broken a cardinal rule. Not your family's. A bigger, more important one that affected a lot of people. You hadn't meant to. It'd been a mistake. It still confused you how not being rude had been a mistake, the lessons conflicting, but you swore to yourself you'd never do it again.

Glum, arms around your knees, you listened to Ginny snap at Nanna.

"If she invites him closer to our side of the veil, it could be havoc. It's mycelial. If you give one an inch, they all steal a mile."

Nanna scoffed. She sounded different. Unlike you'd ever heard her. Fiery and stubborn and rueful. "It isn't that serious, Virginia, for heaven's sake. It's John. He loves that girl; he wouldn't let anything happen to her. Or to us."

"Maybe not, but it doesn't matter!" Ginny's voice raised, tensed, "Stop talking about this as if you know anything about the mechanics. You don't. Divination isn't Sight. They are separate."

"Nothing is separate." Nanna hissed back.

You felt a presence behind you, but you didn't turn around. Instead, you buried your head in your knees and ignored him. Dead Grandpa John took a seat beside you. He didn't say anything, simply sat there with you as you listened to Nanna and Ginny fight. All because you'd thanked him for showing you where Aurora had hidden your favorite Barbie.

The argument escalated until a door slammed and a car engine started. Footsteps on the stairs. Dead Grandpa John made himself scarce, though not before patting your back.

Ginny appeared on the landing. She sighed heavily at the sight of you, all wet cheeks and red eyes, and opened her arms to you. You went, lower lip wobbling.

As she held you, she said, "There are some big rules you'll need to learn now, chicken." And it sounded so serious. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"It's okay," You murmured, "I'm sorry I talked to Grandpa."

It would be eleven years before you spoke to another ghost.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

As soon as you stepped over the barrier's threshold, you felt it. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, heat flushed below the surface. The air tasted sweet, the stars above were brighter, everything seemed so much better than it had been seconds ago.

Xavier called out from the truck when you stopped walking to adjust to the suddenness of that euphoria-adjacent sensation.

"You okay, kiddo?"

You nodded, assured him with a sure smile despite how rapidly your heart was beating. He studied you for a moment, eyebrows knitted, but let it be as soon as he spotted Wally strutting down the path from the school to the bus stop.

As soon as Wally had his hands on you, Xavier pulled back into the road and drove off.

"What the hell is going on?" You asked, his touch like a brand searing into your blood, making your cheeks flush and your knees weak. You tried to ignore it for the sake of the mission.

Talk to Simon about what he'd seen in the woods.

Wally swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and when did that become a turn-on?

"Everyone's at the fence," He said, his voice cracking on the last word, as if he was having trouble maintaining composure. His eyes were blown dark, lips parted slightly as he stared down at you like a four-course meal.

Not now, you told yourself. You had a mystery to solve.

Wally led you around the school to the fence where Simon waited with Maddie and the ghosts. Everyone seemed as fidgety as you felt, no one quite looking at each other, all flushed and perhaps even a little dazed.

Simon stepped forward, pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes before he spoke, "Should a random ghost be able to touch me?"

That sobered you. Temporarily. "What ghost?"

"Can they?" Simon insisted.

"No, a random ghost shouldn't be able to touch you. The only reason you can touch Maddie and Wally is because you share a bond with me."

"Right." Simon said, "That's what I thought." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, took a deep breath, and then revealed, "A random ghost knocked me on my ass when I was chasing—" He cut himself off abruptly, casting a sideways glance at Maddie with an expression of guilt.

"My mom..." Maddie finished for him.

Like everyone else, she looked like she was burning up, her flannel already tied around her waist. You examined the others. Charley was sitting on his jean jacket on the grass, his gaze fixed on a fifth-floor window. Rhonda was pacing, slow, but you could tell she was trying to work out some energy without being obvious.

Ajay's coveralls were bunched around his waist, his foot tapping a rapid rhythm on the ground as he chewed his lip.

What the hell was going on?

You shook your head and tried to regroup, asking Simon, "What did the ghost look like? You must know him."

"Or he knows you," Simon suggested, which, yeah, that was more than likely.

When Simon described a man in his early forties, bellbottoms and a neat mustache, you know immediately who it was.

"You saw Dead Grandpa John?" You gaped, already stepping forward to scale the fence—the gate a few meters away be damned—and start searching the woods.

Wally grabbed you around the waist, pinned you to his—hot, hard—body, and clamped his hands on your hips to hold you there.

"No, no way," Simon urged as he, too, made himself an obstacle and planted himself between you and the fence. "We have bigger things to worry about."

"Like my mom." Maddie murmured, huddling closer to Simon, her face crumpled in an expression of pure anguish.

"Or why we didn't feel warm and tingly when Janet crossed over," Charley added.

A sharp exhale, "What was that last part?" You needed to know.

"Dawn crossed over," Wally said, and, shit, his mouth was right by your ear, humid breath tickling the hairs on your neck. His fingers dug into your skin through your jeans.

You swallowed, forced yourself to focus. "Okay, one mystery at a time," you decided, "You chased Sandra into the woods?"

Simon nodded.

"And you saw my dead grandfather?"

Simon nodded again, "He said something about a spiderweb? I don't know." Then, exasperated, "I can't fucking think right now," as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

"I'm going inside," Rhonda announced, her features set, ready to argue, although she was already marching away.

"Wait!" Charley called after her, "What about—?"

"I don't care!" Rhonda answered from the door, "I can't do anything about outside ghosts or Maddie's psycho mom, anyway!" With that, she disappeared inside, the door snapping closed behind with finality.

Charley grimaced, giving everyone an apologetic look on Rhonda's behalf.

Having rallied himself, Simon was back on task, asking, "Did your Dead Grandpa John always talk in metaphors?"

It was your turn to dole out an apologetic look, "We aren't allowed to talk to ghosts, remember?"

Everyone stilled.

Ajay asked, "Even your own grandfather?"

"Yeah. Even my own grandfather," You sighed, "Not that I care anymore. I need to find him and ask him if the bitch who killed my brother stole his stuffed lion." You attempted to pull away from Wally, "So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find him."

"No, you're not," Simon insisted, "His Riddles Three shit can wait, we need to figure out what to do about Sandra."

You saw red. Hadn't he heard you!? Didn't he care that Amelia had been in your house, had touched your brother's things? Had Aiden trapped at that fucking farmhouse where he was stuck in a loop, begging for friendship and company and—

Wally pulled you closer, banded his other arm around you, and held you. You wanted to shove him, kick him, snarl, scratch, lash out. But the longer he held you, the more his embrace soothed the impulse. Releasing a choked whimper, your body went limp in his arms.

"He said he couldn't say anything, anyway," Simon said softly, his tone bordering on regretful.

You felt Wally make some kind of motion before he asked, "Just...give us a second?" of Simon and the others.

They must've agreed since, the next thing you knew, Wally had maneuvered you up the slight incline and around the corner of the school building for privacy. Alone, he lifted you into his arms, turned and slid down the wall so he was sat on the ground with you straddling his lap. He tucked your hair behind your ear and kissed your head, temple, cheek, lips.

"Do you always call him 'Dead Grandpa John'?" He grinned when he pulled back to look at you.

Your snort bled into a chuckle, "We actually do, yeah."

"So you guys know you're not talking about Alive Grandpa John who exists, right?"

You shook your head, gazing at Wally with a weak but there smile. "Not even."

Wally laughed, light and fond, and nodded, "I bet he loves that."

"Hey, we're not allowed to talk to him, but he's more than welcome to talk to us. He could've said something." You challenged.

Pressed against him like this, now calm, you felt ashamed of your earlier aggressiveness. You peeked up at him, took in his carefree smile and soulful eyes, his pink cheeks, wet lips... He smelled good. Spicy beneath his natural musk. His hands stroked up and down your back, every pass igniting tingles under the skin.

"What's that look for, pretty girl?" Wally asked as he hooked a finger under your chin and guided your face up, thumb smudging across your bottom lip and then lingering at the corner of your mouth.

"I'm sorry," You murmured, "I just... Seeing Aiden tonight. Knowing he's...he's still there, stuck in a loop and so far away from home. God, it would kill my mom if she found out. And Amelia being in my house?" You choked, swallowed, tucked your face into his neck, and curled your fingers in his shirt, "Wally, I'm scared."

"Me too, baby," Wally cradled the back of your head, "And you wonder why I don't want you running into the dark, creepy woods at night?" He huffed, "Amelia could be anywhere right now."

"She could be anyone."

"Exactly," Wally's voice dropped, low and serious as he said, "If anything happened to you and I couldn't get to you... Baby, I'd lose it, I'd—"

You could tell he was spiraling, too many bad thoughts crowding his mind. So you did what you hoped would relieve his anxiety. You took his face in your hands and kissed him.

Slow. Deep. Meaningful as he held you, his big hands on your thighs, a little whimper from his throat, his bent legs falling open so you were forced to push forward and press your hips against his. Your weight rested fully in his lap, and you felt a twitch in his sweatpants, right where you'd been aching for him since arriving earlier.

"Wally..." You said like a secret under your breath. "We should..."

Should. Do...what?

It descended by rapid degrees. That thick, viscous haze you remembered had distorted your mind the first time Wally had kissed you. The world around you and him dimmed, faded, pushed back into the margins as you pressed into the cradle of his pelvis. A gratified sigh, lips connecting and letting out, over and over, soft kisses that turned blazing as it continued.

"Just a little longer, baby," Wally grabbed your ass and guided you against him, kissed you with rising hunger, "I missed you." He rocked his hips into yours from below, the evidence of his arousal stiff and hardening further in his sweatpants. "I've got all this...this energy in me since Dawn crossed over," he whined before he devoured your lips in another deep kiss. "I can't—please baby, I need to get it out of me."

You knew why. An energy shed. When ghosts crossed over—or ascended, rather—they sheared everything that held them to the earth. Bodies and the space those occupied; consciousness as human beings understood it; all barriers surrendered for their spirit to return to the cosmic nebula they'd dawned from.

Dawn's ascension had occurred in what essentially amounted to a sardine can where her earthly energy couldn't spread farther than the boundaries of the school.

Being in such close proximity must have made that euphoric and peaceful release that much more potent. Wally needed an outlet. And, having entered that bubble, you were rapidly succumbing to the same need.

You were hardly aware of your body moving on his, rubbing yourself against him through your layers and his.

"Please, baby," He repeated, "I want you so bad." One hand clenched your thigh while the other curled into your hair and angled your head, held it still so he could kiss you with mounting passion, "Please, just let me feel you. I need to feel you."

You whimpered, moaned, humped forward, and watched his face contort in pleasure as you ground against him. He matched your movements in that slow, sedate tempo, the anticipation and need swelling between you, around you, inside you.

"Wally," You whimpered as you felt his hand move from your thigh to the front of your jeans, expert fingers deftly undoing the button and dragging the zipper down.

"Don't stop, baby," Wally groaned, both hands sneaking into the back of your jeans, beneath your panties, to grab your ass skin-to-skin, "Fuck, it feels good."

He licked into your mouth, ravenous, hot, all teeth and tongue as he consumed every sweet, eager noise you made. His cock was thick and completely hard, the friction maddening even through the thin denim of your jeans. Desire lit up and ignited inside you with every touch, kiss, sound he delivered.

When he pulled back, his eyes were lustblown and heavy, "I wanna taste you, baby." His nails lightly dragged up your ass cheeks to your hips.

You nodded. Maybe. You weren't sure, everything deliciously muzzy, but you could think enough that you knew you wanted this.

Wally smiled, a lopsided, cocky thing that sent hot shivers through your nervous system. "Get on your hands and knees for me, pretty girl." A command more than a request in a voice like gravel.

Without hesitation, you did as he asked. Slithered out of his lap to position yourself with your ass in the air, legs spread, hips swaying as you wordlessly beckoned him to you. A fucking cat in heat, you'd never felt this kind of languid, cottoncandy desire before.

Vaguely, you wondered if this was what it felt like to get high. Acutely sensitive and remarkably unaware of anything beyond your little pocket of flesh and bone.

Your wayward thoughts were steered to Wally when his fingers slipped under the waist of your jeans to drag them down below the swell of your ass. You heard him moan, felt him press his clothed cock between your cheeks, and hump once, twice, before he shifted.

"Oh fuck!" You cried out, probably definitely too loud, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered, because Wally's tongue was sweeping through your folds from behind before he fucked it into you. His big hands squeezed your ass, face pressed between your ass cheeks, and he groaned in blissful satisfaction as if you were the best thing he'd ever tasted.

"So fucking sweet, baby," He said, and, glancing at him over your shoulder, you saw him lick his lips, his chin already glistening.

He winked at you, smug grin on his face, and then sank down to repeat the action. One finger dipped inside your pussy just to slick it up before it found your clit and rubbed in a firm circle. Your breath stuttered, brain turned to pudding, and, holy fuck, if he stopped you'd kill him.

Wally ate you out like he was going for gold, silver, bronze; every place, every medal, with gusto. And just when you were about to see God, "Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," Wally came up for air, shoved his sweatpants down, and drove into you in one fluid motion. Hard. The slap of skin on skin bouncing off the wall and ricocheting into the night. "F u u u c k."

You fell forward onto your elbows, cheek in the grass, body rocking from every beastial thrust. The noises his cock punched out of you were unlike any you'd heard yourself make, and what the hell was that? You didn't know you were capable of that pitch, that high note; so desperate and needy and completely fucking shameless in your lust for Wally as he pounded into you over and over, blunt cockhead beating your g-spot like a drum.

"Oh God, W-Wally!" You choked, gasped, whimpered in that order, forcing yourself onto your hands and slamming back just as good as you he gave you. So close, so fucking close, just a little more, God, please— "Oh fuck, Wally, don't stop!"

Grabbing you by your throat, Wally drew you upright, his cock still buried deep, and pressed your back to his front. His teeth found your neck; nipped, sucked, licked, his thumb pushed between your lips for you to suck. He moaned like rapture, pace faster, more feverish, as his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

He was swiftly losing control, you could feel it, his hips stuttering, but he didn't stop, "Gonna come for me, baby girl?" And, shit, oh, oh—two, three, four more hard, brutal thrusts, his fat cock beating the ecstasy into your bloodstream—you came with a force that left you reeling. Waves crashed, galaxies lived and died, and you nearly blacked out.

The instant you clenched around him, Wally roared, primal, from the depths of his chest, nails biting your hip painfully as he fucked his climax into you. His fingers twitched around your throat, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he panted a mantra of your name punctuated by long groans.

When he stilled, you and he collapsed forward into the grass. He caught himself before squishing you under his weight, his hand quickly adjusting from your throat to your stomach as he kept you against him and rolled to the side.

"Holy shit," He breathed, sweatpants still around his thighs, softening, wet cock cooling in the open air.

The feeling rose from your belly to your chest and then outward. It started with a giggle that grew into a laugh which Wally matched with his own. You flopped onto your back, turned your head to stare at him as you and he came down from the high.

"Energy sheds are fucking. awesome." You decided with a wide grin, taking a moment to tug your panties and jeans back into place.

"Is that what that was?" Wally asked as he, too, put himself to rights. He sat up first, gathered you into his arms, between his legs, and sat back against the wall. "An energy shed?"

You nodded, snuggled into him, and stamped a kiss to his collar, "It's a side-effect of ascending. Or crossing over." You explained, "You don't take everything with you when you ascend, and what stays behind is dispersed. Usually, it has a lot more room, but I guess, with the Something-Something's barrier in place, Dawn's energy couldn't thin out." You grinned up at him as he blinked down at you in amazement.

"Jesus, it felt like I popped a dozen mollies..." Wally's head fell back against the wall, mouth slightly parted, brow glistening with a sheen of sweat. "Is it always like that?"

"It's not supposed to be that intense. Like I said, the shed's usually spread a lot thinner. People within a certain radius would feel a sense of peace and pure happiness. Concentrated like it is here? I guess it's a helluva drug." You speculated.

Wally swooped down to kiss you, affectionate and slow, and when he pulled back, "I'm still horny," he chuckled, "How long does it last?"

"I have no idea," You said honestly, a big smile on your face as you planned to spend the night with your devilishly sexy ghost boyfriend. That was until you remembered where you were and why you were there in the first place. Reality crashed over you like a bucket of ice water, "Oh my God, they probably heard everything!"

Wally shifted to peek around the corner, "Uh... I don't think they did." He said, "No one's there..."

"Yeah, probably because they heard. everything." You bemoaned into your hands, cheeks flushed for the worst reason.

"Babe, I'm sure it's fine," Wally kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your cheek again and again, an onslaught of playful kisses that tickled a giggle from you. "C'mon, sweet girl," Wally hoisted you easily to your feet as he rose from the ground, hugged you close before he led you toward the side entrance, "Let's go find the others."

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon stared ahead, mortified.

Or, really, he should've felt mortified, but he couldn't bring himself to.

Maddie was breathing heavily, her cheeks a gorgeous cherry red, eyes glazed, lips kiss-swollen. Her jeans and underwear still dangled off a leg hung over the teacher's desk. Simon's jeans, however, were securely on though open, his come streaked on the yellowed linoleum he'd knelt on while he'd eaten Maddie out.

Whatever the fuck that interlude of lustfucknow had been, it'd passed, and in the aftermath Simon wasn't sure what to do or say or think.

Eventually, "Wow," Maddie exhaled, tipping back to lay across the desk. "Simon..."

Simon grit his teeth, winced, eyes squeezed shut as he mentally prepared for Maddie to freak out and tell him never to talk to her again. "Yeah...?"

Instead, "When did you learn how to do that?" she surprised him.

Simon blushed crimson and whipped his head toward her. He was on the ground, back against the wall, tucked beneath the blackboard with his knees up, hand over opposite wrist. He studied her expression as she finally maneuvered off the desk on wobbly legs and began to dress herself.

"It's not like I had practice," He confessed, unsure if sharing was caring in this situation. He did anyway, "I just...listened."

To her sounds; the whimpers and sighs and perfect, songbird moans of ecstasy he'd seduced from her with his fingers and mouth. Fuck, that'd been everything Simon had ever wanted. He'd yearned for the chance to give Maddie that kind of pleasure for longer than he would admit. Only, now that he'd had it, he wasn't sure how to process it.

Once dressed, Maddie plopped down beside him, rested her head on his shoulder, and looped her arms through one of his as she spoke, "You are a very good listener."

He couldn't help it, Simon snorted and hung his head, smiled in relief, "Thanks, that means a lot." After a few moments of oddly comfortable silence, he asked, "Do we know what that was?" Too afraid to question whether or not there was a chance it would happen again.

"I bet she knows." Maddie said as she glanced up at Simon, "We should probably go find her and Wally."

Her head was still on his shoulder, the way she'd rested it angled her face exactly right for Simon to gently lean down and press his lips to hers. Soft. Hesitant. And then firmer, harder, his body turning, one arm snaking around Maddie's shoulders while the hand of the other cupped her jaw.

"We should really go..." She whispered, but she didn't move.

Simon agreed, "Yeah," and didn't release her, both coming together again in a slow, deep kiss.

A sharp knock on the door pulled them apart, Wally's voice calling through, "You guys have pants on or should we come back later?"

They heard you yelp and demand, "What do you mean do they have pants on!?" And then, clearly not having seen who Wally saw, "WHO doesn't have pants on!?"

Before Wally answered for them, Simon called back, "We're coming!" to which he heard Wally snicker and gloat, I bet you are.

Simon glowered at the door.

Maddie laughed, fuller and freer than he'd heard since she'd been kicked into the metaphysical world.

It was surreal. Incredible. A little terrifying.

Maddie stood first and held a hand out to him, yanking him to his feet when he took it. He did up his fly and smoothed his hair back before taking her hand. They stood, staring at each other, Maddie openly admiring Simon in a way that made his heart race and his skin prickle. Wow. He felt complete, whole, at the peak of happiness, and he never wanted it to end.

Hand in hand, he walked her to the classroom door. Simon was both giddy and grateful that she didn't tug away or demand he let go of her even after he opened the door and stepped into the hall to meet you and Wally—equally as disheveled, he noted. Grass stains on the knees of your jeans and his sweatpants; your hair sex-mussed and his smile far too satisfied to be from anything else.

Simon glanced back at Maddie who adjusted their position, led his hand to her waist, and curled into his side. Like a lover. She looked beautiful and pleasured and a little sugarglazed after three orgasms, and Simon couldn't help himself. He preened.

And then got down to business.

"Talk." Simon said, giving you a significant look.

Your response, "We're high on ascension," explained nothing, yet Simon understood. Because Maddie had told him about Dawn and had managed to explain enough about what she'd been experiencing right before Simon had picked her up and pinned her to the desk.

Everyone was floating on some sort of post-Dawn's-crossing-over buzz as if they'd collectively inhaled an aphrodisiac. Neat.

When he took stock of himself, he realized he still felt it. That liquid hot desire coursing through him, less intense but there. He could read the signs of that intoxication all over you and Wally. He'd seen it on Charley's face before Charley had muttered something about the Art room. And Ajay, who'd loped off to the theater.

Jesus, they'd been drugged.

"Are we gonna regret this later?" Simon had to ask, worrying his bottom lip, unable to peel his eyes from the floor.

You must've picked up on what he couldn't say since, addressing Maddie, you said, "It's not like drinking too much. I'd say it's more like an anti-depressant. The good feelings that are already inside you have space to grow and you can't ignore them." You continued to explain what ascension actually was and then added, "I mean, you don't feel like fucking me, do you?" Also directed to Maddie.

The silence that followed made Simon's head whip up and his jaw drop. Thankfully, Maddie seemed to simply be considering the question and doing an internal scan, because she eventually shook her head.

"As cute as I think you are, I'm not coded like that."

"Same, babes," followed by, "Whether or not you guys regret it will have to be a conversation you have," you shrugged as Wally crowded closer to you, clearly not having appreciated the idea of sharing you if Maddie had said yes.

If you'd even go for it, of course. Which planted quite the image in Simon's mind and, oh God, when would this stuff work itself out of his system, please and thank you?

"Where are the others?" You wondered, dragging Simon back down to earth.

He cleared his throat, blinking and shaking his head to drive away the cotton slog that kept creeping in. "Charley went to the Art room, Rhonda...who knows, and Ajay said something about the theater."

Everyone sobered when Simon mentioned Ajay; downcast eyes and tight expressions of regret. Mina's absence meant Ajay didn't have someone to share that pure, radiant delirium with. Or maybe he'd found her, Mina drawn out of hiding by lust.

"We should split up and find the others. We need to figure out what our next moves are."

"No offense," Simon began, casting Maddie a bashful look, "But I don't think I have it in me to come up with next moves right now. I'm still...kind of..."

"Horny?" Wally supplied, grinning like a goof.

Simon didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

Your determination was admirable. "Alright, what if we split up, and Maddie and I go together?"

Together, "No!" Simon and Wally rejected the idea immediately.

You rolled your eyes, "Guys, my brother is trapped in an abandoned house, Maddie's mom might be responsible for why she's a ghost, Amelia knows where I live, fuck knows where Dave is and what he knows, and if I'm not back at Xavier's before midnight, Sheriff Baxter is going to raid every building in Split River. We need to focus."

"She says like she isn't fondling her dead boyfriend," Simon commented, brow raised and eyes fixed on where your hand was on Wally's ass.

"Oh, shut up, I can still prioritize." You defended, glowering at Simon even as your cheeks pinked adorably.

"She's right," Maddie said and gave Simon a pleading look that he couldn't argue with if he wanted to. "I need to find out what happened to me. And if..." She swallowed, "and if my mom is the one who hurt me. She was here that day. I don't remember everything, but she was drunk and we argued. It was really bad..." Trailing off, Maddie stared at her boots, body trembling slightly under Simon's hand.

He brought her closer, kissed her hair and wrapped his arms around her to encase her in a comforting embrace. "Alright, let's go get the others and come up with what we wanna do next." He deferred to you for first steps.

"You said Charley's in the Art room? You guys go get him. Wally and I will find Ajay, and then Rhonda. We'll meet back at the fence. Good?"

"Good." Wally, Maddie, and Simon echoed.

You beamed, "Good. And no delays!"

Simon studied you for a moment, mouth twisting into an amused smirk, "You're still fondling your dead boyfriend."

You repeated his words in a mocking cadence and simply dragged Wally down the hall, leaving Maddie and Simon to laugh at your and Wally's backs.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally was riding high on ascension, whistling a tune he hadn't heard in years (Everybody Wants to Rule the World, and he didn't care what Charley said, it was a hit), literally skipping and jiving down the hallway toward the library.

He serenaded you with the lyrics as he pulled you into a loose and silly Two Step; twirled you, lifted you, kissed you breathless because he couldn't imagine doing anything else ever again.

When you and he reached the book return bins, Dawn's former piece of the metaphysical school, the flicker of a flashlight caught Wally's attention.

Instantly, he scooped you up and placed you on top of the bins, made sure you were safe and hidden before he approached the mouth of the hallway. On that same wave of whimsy, Wally finger snapped like a Greaser in a musical toward Security Guard Al, belting the chorus right into the man's face as Al halted his trek around the corner.

Al stood for a moment, staring directly through Wally to the other end of the hall, and then, repelled by Wally's ghostly energy, went right on his way. Back toward the office where he'd fish another donut out of the box the secretary had left him and watch the second half of the movie he'd been playing before his start-of-shift rounds.

Wally grinned, pleased as punch, and returned to you, arms outstretched to pluck you from the top of the bins. He didn't put you down, though.

Rather, he had you wrap your legs around his waist so he could spin you around and then press you against the wall. You laughed, partly at his antics, but mostly from the tingly remnants of Dawn's undiluted ascension. You slipped out of Wally's hold, feet on the ground, back against the wall, and gazed up at him.

In return, Wally towered over you, one arm propped on the wall above your head, opposite hand lifting to trail his fingers down the slope of your jaw, thumbprint grazing your lips. God, he loved you so much he was crazed from it. He had to tell you. A million times would never express it enough, but he wanted you to hear it, feel it, feel him.

"I love you, baby." Wally murmured as he leaned in and brushed his lips across yours. A barely-there tease that he let linger for a moment before he pressed in, hard and wanting. He hoisted you into his arms again, one hand on the curve of your ass, his hardening cock humping against your pussy through your jeans and his sweatpants. "Fuck, baby, I can't—this stuff is insane," He groaned after he nipped your earlobe. "I need you again, baby, please. I can't think."

"Yeah," You breathed, grinding back against him, "Yeah, okay. We can be quick, right?"

Wrong.

But Wally didn't want to say anything that would deter you from being carried to the boy's locker room—just down the nearby stairs and to the right—and fucked against the tiles under a warm shower. It was a fantasy Wally suddenly had to play out. He'd die all over again if he didn't. And you didn't want him to die again, did you?

"Do you, baby?"

You laughed, "No, Wally, I don't want you to die again."

He grinned into the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise over your pulse point, "Good girl."

Wally needed you naked and soapy and on his cock five minutes ago.

The journey to the locker room was interrupted by various breaks to pin you to walls and ravish you with kisses and desperate touches, Wally's hands groping everywhere he could reach. When he finally got you into the locker room, his cock was throbbing, a stain of precum blossoming through the fabric of his sweatpants.

You and he stripped in a frenzy, playful and carefree. You threw your jeans at his head, he grabbed you around the waist when you tried to dodge him, both you and he laughing like there wasn't a death cult possibly kidnapping teenage girls.

Wally manhandled you into the showers, your knees hooked over his arms, his cock driving into you from below as he held you easily against the tiles. He could see it in you, that his strength turned you on.

"You like it when I have you like this, baby?" He whispered darkly in your ear, one, two, three powerful thrusts before you answered with a beautiful keen and your pussy gripped his cock tighter. "Fuck, that's it baby. You take me so good, don't you?"

"Y-yes," You mewled, a sound that went straight to Wally's cock. "God, Wally, harder, please, I need it harder..."

And, Jesus Christ, that made whatever remained of his control snap. He granted your wish, hips snapping in sharper strokes as he brought you down on his cock harder. He could do this all night. All day. Forever. He wanted this forever. He wanted you forever.

Forever, fuck, please, let me have her forever, Wally begged whatever higher power would listen, fucking into you with abandon, a slave to his lust. You began to tremble into his arms, crying out on every hard upstroke until he felt you squeeze around him. And then, God, yes, and then his own release hit him like a fucking train.

After, he sunk to his knees, adjusted his arms so he could hold you properly. Wally panted into your throat as warm water streamed over you and him, steam clouding the air, the perfect cocoon to escape in and pretend the world didn't exist. Just for another minute. Just one...

However, it was several minutes (an hour) later when anyone showed up to the fence. Maddie and Simon were more disheveled. Rhonda was brazenly wearing Bernie's top and nothing else. Charley's neck was a Jackson Pollock of love bites. And Ajay was doing his best not to look anyone in the eye.

Everyone collectively ignored the heap of nude band students.

You and Wally were the last to arrive.

Oops.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

In the woods just outside of town, Dave paced a trench in the loam, hands waving frantically as he ranted, "That manifesting little bitch!"

He looked awful. Unwashed. Unshaven. Bags under his eyes. His body was weak from hunger, and Amelia struggled to keep his mind quiet.

The plan was unraveling faster than she could keep up. All because of one. stupid. flaw: Had she known what that girl was, Amelia would've killed the day Amelia had assumed her father's body.

Placid, unmoved, leaned casually against the side of the Sheriff's cruiser, Sheriff Baxter watched Amelia carry Dave's body about, movements stiff and uncoordinated.

He allowed her to vent for a moment longer before, "I should've never allowed you to assume responsibility of the ritual." Dark and quiet and so sincere it made Amelia nervous. Raising his chin, the Sheriff leveled Amelia with a stern look, "You've fucked things up beyond repair, you dumb little girl."

That wasn't Amelia's fault. She'd been made the face of the Order decades ago, she'd earned the right to prove her leadership. To see things through in a way that abided with the new era that had been ushered in. Information and eyes everywhere. It was impossible to keep secrets nowadays and Amelia knew her plan would've been foolproof if it hadn't been for Madison Nears.

"It can still work," Amelia insisted, cowed, "I just need—"

"More time?" Sheriff Baxter scoffed, "You don't have it. Neither do I." He stepped into Amelia's space, voice menacing, "The ritual has been unchanged for centuries for a reason. A reason to turned your nose up to because of pride."

"It isn't pride, mother," Amelia spat, "It's survival. We can't risk another event like we used to. It's a different world. We'd be found out!"

The Sheriff huffed through his nose, eyes dangerous as he stared at Amelia, "We could've moved on. We didn't have to stay here." He paused to give Amelia a disgusted look, "I should've known you'd be too sentimental."

"This is the best place, you know this!" Amelia argued. "It could take longer than we'd ever have to find land as potent as this."

"We made it this way!" The Sheriff shouted as he stuck his arm out to grip Amelia around Dave's throat. His fingers dug into Dave's throat, strength inhumane and immovable.

Amelia whimpered, "I'm sorry, mother." She pawed at the Sheriff's hand, tried to suck in a breath, choked, begged with Dave's eyes to be released.

The Sheriff dropped his hand and took a step back, expression once again neutral.

"We don't have time for this, Amelia," He said. "Between the three other points, we have more than enough to perform the ritual. You need to find that vessel and return it before I decide to take yours and leave you in this life to rot."

Amelia made a kicked-out sound, "You wouldn't." But she knew Anabelle would. Anabelle wasn't prone to sentimentality or motherly love. She was ruthless. A trait that had seen her through to now.

There was a long silence wherein the Sheriff returned to lean against the cruiser. Pondering. Clearly angry.

At last, "You didn't tell me your little pet had stopped drinking the tea."

Amelia turned her face down and stared at the ground, her heart in her throat. No. She hadn't.

She stayed quiet. There was nothing to say for it.

"Sentimental." The Sheriff said like spitting acid, every syllable pronounced. "Look where that got you. Your student betrayed you. Your dog is losing control of his only charge." Eyes boring into Amelia's, "Get this under control, Amelia, or I take over, and I will not make room for mercy."

Amelia trembled in Dave's body, "Yes mother."

"Find your little bitch, Amelia." The Sheriff commanded, though, "I don't know how, given both your golems are now compromised." A bitter laugh, "How have I been so blind to your ignorance. Such a dull creature."

"I'm not stupid, mother," Amelia said with more force than she felt.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

The Sheriff shifted. Opened the driver's side door to the cruiser and slipped behind the wheel.

"Heed my warning, child. I can easily perform the ritual without you."

A boldfaced lie, but Amelia couldn't be sure her mother wouldn't find a way. Anabelle was powerful. Far older than Amelia. Far more practiced.

"And keep an eye on your pet. If she hasn't already woken up, it will only be a matter of time." Another significant look, "I think I'll bury you beside your late lover."

And that was all. The Sheriff started the engine and pulled out of the woods, onto the dirt road, leaving Amelia to suffer walking Dave's weakening body back to town.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[marsprincess889]

A little treat 💕 (some observations and information about Bharani as both the Sun and the Moon enter this nakshstra)

If you feel more serious and heavy now than during the last weeks, do not take it personally.

Name : "The Star of Bearing"

Yoni animal: Male Elephant 🐘(yoni consort_ Revati)

Symbols: the Yoni (female sexual organ), the boat, a cave (as reminiscent of the Yoni).

Planetary ruler: Venus ♀️

Sign: Aries🐏 🔥♈♂️(active Mars, Fire element)

Ruling deity: Yama_ God of death and dharma

Caste_ Outcast (Mleccha)

Nature_ Fierce (Ugra)

Element_ Earth

Gunas: Rajas- Rajas- Tamas

Purpose: Artha (material acquisition)

The themes of Bharani connect humans to the origins of their very existence. And as much as philosophy and existential contemplation are embedded in Bharani natives, it's still very much a material nakshatra, grounding the essence/spark that was initiated through movement in Ashwini, making its potential and vision possible and real. It's in Aries_ the first sign, it deals with birth and self-definition, putting the soul into the body, the substance (masculine) into the form (feminine), and it rules over the authority of the feminine as she goes through her ebbs and flows and birthes life, as she absorbs and gives, as she commands the natural heirarchy just as the masculine forces find themselves helpless through all of it.

What do you want most in life? What do you think you came to live for? How do you achieve it? Can you achieve it? Does something else dictate your actions? Can you fight that something? Should you bow down to that something?

How do you get your way and live the life that you came to live? The theme here is pure, unbridled force and passion that meets fate, struggles against it and finds a way to achieve its desire, or not. Venus here is both the force of movement(masculine) and the force of restraint (feminine) as they fight and clash and come together and then birth life. Ultimately, as the masculine movement that was free in Ashwini meets the desire (Venus and Bharani), it also meets fear and with it the reverance for fate, for whatever higher power it recognizes, which is love_ what humans have no control over, and their lover.

I have to say though that Ashwini, in many ways, is similar to Bharani (both are Aries nakshatras, their dynamic is often more friendly or neutral than romantic) and is not the opposite force that meets it cosmically. That force is Revati, which is the individuated being, finally achieving true freedom and wealth, both free from and willingly immersed in Bharani's programming. While Bharani enforces or struggles with limitations, Revati gently guides themselves and others through them, making the journey enjoyable. The questions that concern Bharani concern Revati too (same with all yoni consorts, they all deal with the same things and balance each other out with their energies): what is, in the end, the nature of life? That question contains all the other questions that these two nakshatras deal with. Bharani is heavy, intense, fierce, serious, with undertones of tragedy and the stubborn, fiery willpower. Revati is light, gentle, humorous and wise, with undertones of watery melancholy beneath its effortless nirvana and euphoria. People say that tragedy and comedy are really one and the same, it's the perspective that is altered with time that dictates how we percieve anything, (along with inherent characteristics or other forces out of our control. Saturn is time, it's debilitayed in Bharani, the Saturnian nakshatra of Yama. Its birth nakshatra is Revati).

The themes of Bharani are hidden but obvious. They are eternal and immortal (as Bharani is the end and the beginning) but secretive and ever-changing just the enduring power of the feminine changes to adapt and keep the infinity going. It's very symbolically charged and sometimes literal in an ironic and spiritual way once you dive into it.

My other published posts about Bharani as of April 28 2025:

Overview/analysis

Bharani as goddesses (connection to mythology)

Difference between three Venus nakshatra women

"The Northman" (2022)_ analysis with nakshatras (one of them is Bharani. I did not know it at the time of writing it but Anya Taylor Joy, who plays a major role there, has Bharani ascendant based on her C rated birth time, meaning that there's a chance it's incorrect)

Venus suffers when it compromises

Bharani's feminine beauty

Bharani playlist

You can also find Bharani in my astrology observations and other posts that include various/all the nakshatras.