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holybibly · 4 months ago

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♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Boxer San x ring girl reader x Sugar daddy Seonghwa ♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You know that being alone with San is like willingly entering a tiger's cage, but maybe that's exactly what you want - to be torn to pieces by him. Or you might help San treat his wounds after a tough fight, even though you know Seonghwa won't approve ♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: smut, boxing club!au, sugar daddy!au, underground life!au ♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI ♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 14 k ♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Hard dom! San, hrad/soft daddy Seonghwa, sub!reader, unprotected sex, threesome, daddy kink, lots of sperm, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, spanking, hair pulling, squirting, creampie, humiliation, breeding kink, boobs spanking, pussy slapping, dirty talk, face fucking, pussy drunk, overstimulation, oral, double penetration, manhandling, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink, anal fingering, anal play, wet and dirty, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more. ♡ 𝔫𝔢𝔱: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet ♡ 𝔄|𝔑: For some reason this has taken longer to write than expected, but as I like to say: I am always worth the wait. I decided to split it into two parts. I hope you will get maximum pleasure, my sugar bunnies ♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post.

𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉

Tonight was no different from a dozen other nights at the club. And just like on every other night, you were sure that Choi San was going to leave the boxing ring as the ultimate champion. In truth, it was almost as predictable as the change of seasons. After all, San was the best of the best in the club, but the one thing you couldn't predict was how badly he would get hurt during his fight today.

San rarely got more than a few obnoxiously looking scratches and abrasions here and there, unlike his opponents, whom the hot, fiendishly handsome boxer would mercilessly turn in the boxing ring into a bloody mess. He was harsh and rough and usually ended the fight before the first round was out, but this time something didn't seem to be going according to plan.

You watched anxiously as the fight went on, noting the way San spat blood out of his split lip and the way his nose wrinkled up in pain as Wooyoung pressed a damp towel to his dissected eyebrow. There were a lot of scratches and abrasions on his handsome, chiselled face—injuries that you knew he could feel and that he could taste. For a moment, you even wondered if San was going to win this fight, especially when you caught sight of the equally worried-looking Yeosang.

The blonde, handsome boxer was sinking his teeth into his lower lip, nervously clutching the bloody towel Wooyoung had thrown him after wiping the blood from San's face. His hazel fox eyes were focused on everything that was happening in the ring. Your level of anxiety rose almost to the sky when they heard San's muffled, hoarse groan as his opponent's first flew in under his rib. It made him recoil and go on the defensive. Damn it, he was practically knocked out.

You couldn't believe what was happening; the crowd was roaring around you, and all you could hear over the overwhelming noise were Wooyoung's loud shouts telling San to get his shit together and show what he could do, and Yeosang's encouraging words, which were much softer and nicer to hear than Woo's profanity. God, you loved him, but he was unnecessarily rude at times; the boy clearly had an attitude. You have no idea what it was that had such an effect on San, but the next second he was throwing a series of sharp, powerful punches that knocked his opponent out.

It happened so suddenly that you didn't even have time to react as Yeosang scooped you up in his arms and whirled you around, shouting in your ear, "Our boy did it again." And yes, your boy had definitely done it again, just as Seonghwa had predicted earlier in the night before he slapped you on the backside and sent you off to work: "My tiger never loses.

As soon as all the commotion in the main hall had died down and you were able to free yourself from Yeosang's tenacious and tight embrace, you went straight to the backstage area to find San. You had to make sure that he was alright, and in the meantime, you had to congratulate him on another victory. After all, San was the main star of the evening and deserved a nice word or two from you, even if things weren't exactly smooth between the two of you.

It wasn't that you didn't like him or that you had conflicts; no, he was a nice enough guy, if you could put it that way. Maybe you could even put up with his perpetual cheeky grin and his complete lack of filters if it wasn't for the heavy sexual tension that crackled between you like electricity.

It was no secret that San found you fuckable and wanted to have sex with you, as he reminded you every time you spoke to him. He was always shamelessly eye-fucking you, with a total disregard for any decency or the presence of Seonghwa around you. Maybe you wouldn't have noticed; after all, you were used to the fact that all the boys in the club had pretty sharp edges and dirty mouths, if it wasn't for your attraction to him.

Sometimes you find it so hard to resist the urge to kiss him or ride his cock. Especially after you caught him fucking one of the ring girls in the changing room after another fight. You literally froze in the doorway as you watched him pulling her hard and deeply on his cock, looking right at you with a devilish grin on his face. His whole look seemed to be screaming at you: "It could have been you." That night, you had to ask Seonghwa to be a lot more brutal and rough with you in order to calm that annoying itch of jealousy that was inside of you. Maybe, just maybe, San was absolutely right. You wanted to be in her shoes, but you'd never admit it to yourself, let alone to San.

"San!" You call out the dark-haired, handsome man's name, noting his slim figure in the hustle and bustle of the backstage area. He turns his head slightly in your direction as he interrupts his conversation with Mingi, another smoking hot and unacceptably handsome boxer. Mingi has only recently joined the club but has already made a name for himself both in the ring and between the sheets. If the rumours are true, he fucks as well as smears his opponents on the floor. Like San, he has never been defeated, if that means anything. San gives you a licentiously grin and gazes at your figure with a dark, hungry stare before he gives Mingi a friendly pat on the shoulder and begins to walk in your direction.

He reminds you of a great big cat of prey—elegant and graceful, but also so deadly. San is literally smouldering with sexuality, with all those seductive muscles and all that overbearing aura that literally draws the eyes of others to his person. His gym shorts hang so dangerously low that you can see a subtle, exquisite tattoo on his pronounced V-line. San is still shirtless—sweaty and dirty, the inky purple bruises already beginning to spread beneath the smooth golden skin of his pumped-up chest, and you swear you're looking precisely at them and not at the way the silver piercings in his nipples glisten.

As soon as he is next to you, your hands automatically go up to his wounded face and gently wrap the palms of your hands around it, turning his head from side to side so that you can see the extent of his injuries. San just grins, lets you do whatever you want to him, and looks at you with heavy bedroom eyes. You look beautiful, fuckable, and fucking attractive. It's even funny the way his body immediately reacts to your presence next to him, his cock starting to tighten under the fabric of his gym shorts.

Or is it all the residual adrenaline that is still circulating in his bloodstream after tonight's fight? Who knows?

As the pad of your thumb presses against the deep cut on his lower lip, San hisses like a cat.

"You should get those wounds attended to. They don't look well.' Your voice is full of concern as you continue to run your fingers carefully over the abrasions and scratches on his face. The smooth, golden skin of his sharp, high cheekbones was irritated, and purple bruises were beginning to form underneath. You could even see tiny drops of clotted blood where it had been torn. But even with all that, San still looked pretty damn attractive, which was almost a crime in your opinion.

"You're so worried about me, baby doll, huh? How about you give me a kiss to make it all better?' San cheekily wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close to his hot body, so unacceptably close that your breasts are pressed tightly against his naked muscular chest, and you have to stand up on your tiptoes so that you can face him. "I want my victory kiss, baby." San whispers in a sultry, hoarse voice into your skin, his hot, moist breath flowing over your cheeks, and from this a shameful, excited blush spreads across them. His hands slipping from your waist to wrap them around your buttocks instead, gripping them tightly with the palms of his hands and causing your already short satin shorts to rise even higher.

You swallow unconsciously as the image of him fucking that girl in the changing room comes back to you, just like that, squeezing her buttocks in his hands as she rode on his cock.

'Get a room.' One of the staff members shouts, and you're jolted out of your mental stupor in an instant, resting your hands on San's strong shoulders and moving slightly away from him to create some semblance of space between your bodies.

"I'm being serious, San. If you don't, there'll be infection in your wounds.' You insist, wriggling slightly in his strong grip. He's still so damned close to you, you can feel his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes.

You can smell the faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla on his skin, still hot from the fight, damp and glistening with sweat and oil. San squeezes your buttocks once hard with his hands before he begins to knead the plump, soft flesh in the palms of his hands, and you practically moan at it, barely managing to sink your teeth into your lower lip in time to keep the shameful, lingering sound from escaping your throat.

"I've seen this before and it was disgusting, you don't want scars on your pretty face, do you? I can get Wooyoung or Yeosang to help, or one of the girls..." You babble on as his hands continue to massage your bottom. San has the good conscience to look completely disinterested in what you're saying - his head is tilted sideways, his feline eyes dark and smouldering with desire, and you notice the tip of his tongue tracing his swollen lower lip. His nose wrinkles slightly as he touches the fresh wound.

"Pretty face, huh?" San gave you a cheeky grin and deep, sweet dimples appeared on his cheeks, which, to be honest, you hated because it made you feel completely weak and soft in the face of his charms. The contrast between how vulgar and coarse he was when he talked and how soft and gentle his dimples were when he smiled just made you go crazy. Damned you, Choi San, you and your stupid, attractive dimples. "You could just kiss that pretty face; I'm sure your slutty, sweet lips could do it better, couldn't you, baby doll?' He tilted his head to the side as if pondering something before a devilish spark flashed in his cat-like, slanted eyes, which, as you know, doesn't bode well for you. "But if you're so worried about me, dollface, why don't you do it yourself? I'm sure you'll give me professional service."

There is some context to his words, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what San is alluding to. The time how efficiently you sucked Yunho's huge thick dick, after his fight, but it happened to be randomised, and you weren't in the habit of screwing every boxer in the club, especially after you started dating Seonghwa, or rather after he made you his sugar baby.

"You jerk..." You nudge him lightly in the shoulder and purse your glossy pink lips in a resentful pout. 'You don't have to be so rude to me." You practically squeal as San suddenly picks you up under your arse and lifts you up in such a way that you have no choice but to wrap your legs around his slender, slutty waist. Your arms are automatically wrapped around his neck, and your faces are in an unacceptably close proximity to each other. Someone whistles loudly, but you don't pay attention. You're too mesmerised by the deep chocolate colour of San's eyes and the way his long, fluffy eyelashes flutter.

"You don't know how rougher I can get with you, Dollface, but I can assure you that you're going to love every second of it. In fact, I'm pretty sure you'll be coming back to me for more of it." His lips touch the hot, flushed skin on the side of your cheek, and you give a soft moan as his fingers dig into your buttocks.

"You are too cocky for your own good, and I already have someone else to fuck.' You argue weakly, unconsciously tangling your fingers in his soft dark hair, causing San to blissfully cover his eyes as if he were a cat that had been petted by his owner.

"Oh, believe me, I know who's fucking you, angel." He emphasises the nickname, knowing full well that's what Seonghwa likes to call you. "And I don't mind sharing you if it means I can finally get my dick in that pussy of yours." San is practically purring; the sound of his deep, seductive voice is vibrating in his chest, and you can feel it in your body. "I know you want it as much as me. Do you remember when you caught me in the changing room with that girl? I had you on my mind, baby doll, and while I was fucking her, I was thinking about your sweet pussy squeezing around my cock. All I could think of was how you were squirting on my face as I fucked your tiny hole with my tongue.'

'San! How much longer are we going to wait for you?" A loud scream from Wooyoung brings you back to reality, and your eyes widen as you finally realise where you and San are at the moment and how his filthy words plunged you into a state of trance. Shit, you should use your head and start thinking with your brain instead of your cunt.

But it's so hard to do that when San is a walking threat to your restraint and decency. It was easy for you to imagine all the things he'd just been talking about, and that slutty, dirty, yet seductive image made the delicate folds of your pussy wet.

"I'll be there in a minute!" San calls back, lowering you gently to your feet and eventually removing his hands from your body. You immediately take a few steps back, still a little stunned by your interaction with him. But San doesn't seem to want to let you out of his arms, so he wraps his palms around your face and forces you to look at him. "Listen to me, babydoll; be a good girl and wait for me in my room. Got it? I'll try and get back to you as soon as I can." For a moment you feel the soft, warm touch of his lips on your forehead, almost making you melt, but it disappears as quickly as it came.

'But...' You begin, wondering what you should do, knowing that if you're alone with San, nothing good will come of it, and besides, you already had plans for tonight. 'I don't know if I should...'

"Baby, I didn't ask you." He turns and starts walking towards Wooyoung and the other boys waiting for him. As if he remembered something, San stops abruptly, looks back at you over his shoulder, and grins mischievously.

"You still have to treat my wounds, doll face, remember? You don't want any scars on my pretty face, do you?" San casts a last dark, hungry glance over your body before bossy ordering you. "Now go, doll. Daddy will be back soon."

And he walks away, leaving you staring in his wake, your head a complete mess and your pussy absolutely wet and trembling with anticipation.

Shit, you seem to have a problem, and its name is Choi San.

For the umpteenth time recently, you find yourself looking at the large wall clock in San's private room. The smooth mechanical movement of the long time hand on the dial is unnerving, and the slight, intrusive ticking is annoying. It does nothing to calm your inner nervousness at all; on the contrary, it makes it even more obvious. You bite down on the pad of your thumb, a stupid, almost childish habit that you can't seem to get rid of, and fidget in the soft leather seat of the massive armchair that you've settled into while you wait for San. It's been over an hour since you and he parted ways, and it looks like the handsome boxer is in no hurry to get back to you soon.

You don't know if he's doing it on purpose—torture you by making you sit here and obediently wait for him like the return of Jesus—or if he's really busy with some business, but one thing you were absolutely sure of—San knew very well that you had to be somewhere else tonight, or rather with someone else. And it was not good for you at all that you were still not warming Seonghwa's luxurious silk bed in his mansion with your naked body. Maybe your relationship with Seonghwa wasn't right and romantic, but you didn't want to lose him, and there was something special about him—dark and magnetic and lecherous—that made you addicted to him. And it wasn't just his money or that absolutely amazing long tongue he used to expertly and efficiently fuck your pussy every night until you whimpered and begged him to stop.

But to deny how much you wanted San to fuck your brains out was just a stupid thing to do. And you knew firsthand that San could take you straight to heaven. After all, he was not only Fight Club's golden boy but also had a golden cock he knew how to use perfectly.

You were so deep in thought, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time, that you almost didn't notice when the heavy front door opened and San walked into the room. As always, his presence brings with it that intense, suffocating aura of power and smouldering sexuality and that raw, almost animal magnetism of his nature that draws you to him on some inexplicable, instinctive level, making you focus all your attention on him immediately.

"Don't make such a sweet face, baby. It just makes me want to kiss you more than I already do..." San purrs sultrily as he stretches out on the leather couch in front of you. Leaning his head back as he covers his cat-like eyes and adds hoarsely, barely whispering. 'Or fuck this lovely plump mouth...'

"Can you be nice to me for once?' You purse your rose-coloured plump lips reluctantly, and you look at his figure with a frown. He's still just as sweaty and dirty as you've seen him before, but now his bruises have taken on a darker hue, spreading purple and dark blue ink under his damp, golden skin.

It looks really painful and unpleasant, and even with the way he's treating you, you don't want San to get hurt, so you sigh heavily, reminding yourself that you really don't have time for all this drama, and get up from your seat to walk over to the small dresser where San keeps his first aid kit, and grab some alcohol, ointment, and bandages from there to help treat the wounds.

A silence hangs between the two of you for a few seconds, more tense than uncomfortable, but it's not that that makes you stop what you're doing; it's what San is saying to you.

"But you do have a taste for rough treatment, don't you, angel?" He emphasises your nickname again, pronouncing it like it's some kind of dirty swear word, and you could swear you can hear the venomous notes in his usually honeyed, smooth voice.

You turn your head over your shoulder and take in the sight of San, now looking at you from under his dishevelled, damp fringe with eyes so dark and intense you feel uncomfortable and quickly turn away, continuing to rummage through the first aid kit for ointment.

"This is different, San, and you know it very well." When you finally find the ointment you need, you slam the first aid kit down harder than necessary and turn to face him again. San is still drilling into you with his gaze as he pokes the tip of his tongue into the corner of his bruised, plump lower lip, his mouth curling up slightly as he accidentally touches the deep fissure. The plush, soft flesh was horribly red and swollen where it had been torn, but San still looked hot as hell.

"Come on, doll, just say it; you let him treat you like this because he's fucking you."

You swallow the sharp words that are on the tip of your tongue and decide that today is not the day to poke the tiger with a stick. Instead, you just walk over to him, stand between his spread long legs, and with exaggerated roughness, wrap your arms around his chin, lifting his face slightly so that he's looking at you. With deliberate pettiness, you press an alcohol-soaked cotton ball to his split eyebrow without any previous tenderness. He hisses and wrinkles against the burning sensation as the alcohol penetrates deep into the wound, disinfecting it in the process.

"And who's the rough one now, huh, baby doll?" His hands curl around your hips, and his fingers dig into the juicy, soft flesh where your tiny shorts end—just below your ample buttocks. His touch is a little bit painful, a little bit too possessive for your taste, but still you can't say that you don't like it. You hate to admit what San's right about you—you like it rougher, especially in the bedroom.

"I'm just paying you with the same coin, Sannie." You press the cotton ball even harder against the swollen, deep cleavage and pull the hoarse, hissing sound out of his chest once more. 'That's how you're going to get treated for being so...' You start, but San doesn't let you finish, abruptly pulling you closer by your hips, forcing you to take a step forward to keep yourself from falling on top of him.

"So handsome, so hot, so sexy..." San enumerates as he slides his hands up your thighs until the big palms of his hands are completely around your buttocks, greedily squeezing the supple, meaty flesh.

'Brute.' You finish, and finally remove the cotton wool soaked in alcohol from his wound to put some ointment on it in its place. You try to ignore the way San looks at you with his heavy bedroom eyes. He sensually kneads your arse in his palms while you gently apply the ointment to his dissected eyebrow with the cotton bud. "And would you stop pawing at my bum for just a second, please?" "If that's what you really want, sweetheart." San purrs sensuously as he looks at you through the lace of his long eyelashes with the dark, seductive gaze of his slanted cat eyes. Despite his words, he doesn't stop caressing you; instead, he digs his fingers deeper into your ample buttocks and pulls them apart slightly, causing you to let out a low, barely audible moan. He doesn't say anything about it, but judging by the way the corners of his plump lips lift up in a dirty, smug grin, revealing sweet, deep dimples on his cheeks, it's exactly the reaction he was hoping for from you.

You decide to just ignore it, in the full knowledge that San is doing this on purpose to provoke you. Instead, you focus all of your attention on cleaning his wounds as thoroughly as you possibly can and applying salve to each one. Silence falls between you again, punctuated by San's slight cat hissing as you press the alcohol-soaked cotton ball against the particularly deep cuts on his handsome, chiselled face as you continue to carefully remove the dried blood and dirt from them.

Surprisingly, as it turns out, cleaning someone else's wounds is a very intimate process—you're too close together, so close that you can feel the heat emanating from his body, the sliding, damp warmth of his breath on your bare skin, the weight of his dark, feline gaze fixed on your heaving breasts, which almost fall out of your exaggeratedly deep cleavage with every breath you take.

You would think that after all this time with San you would be used to how heavy and almost palpable the sexual tension between you was, but today there was something else in the air besides lingering pure desire. There was a subtle change in the air; small electrical charges crackled in space, as if an inescapable tempest was approaching. The storm was on its way, and you weren't sure if you would be able to survive it, especially with the way your body was responsively reacting to San.

The longer this goes on, the harder it will be for you to control the viscous, searing sensation of excitement that's spreading through your body and becoming more and more tangible to you with each passing second.

You have already been so wet for him—the warm, viscous moisture pools between your legs and coats your folds in a clear, sticky glaze. And it won't come as a surprise to you at all if you see a big wet spot on your silk panties, from how much your pussy is oozing at the moment.

You're almost done with the treatment of his wounds; all you have to do is clean the deep cut on his lower lip, and then you can finally get out of here and hurry back to Seonghwa. You gently lift his face by his chin to make it a little more comfortable for you to do so, when all of a sudden San grabs hold of your wrist.

"Kiss me." His words take your breath away; a palpable shiver runs through your whole body, and you squirm a little under the intensity of his gaze.

'Sorry, what?' You're stupidly questioning you., hoping that San will reduce it to a cheeky, dirty joke as he always does, but it doesn't happen.

"You heard me clearly, Y/N." San's voice is full of an emotion you can't quite describe, but whatever it is, it makes your pussy clench in anticipation.

"San, I...you know I can't do that."

'Just one kiss, Gongjunim. Just one.' He tilts his head slightly to the side and looks at you with those seductive, heavy, bedroom eyes of his. San squeezes your wrist even tighter, pulling you closer to him until his face pressed against your belly. "Come on, doll face, give me a kiss. Think of it as rewarding me for winning. Don't you think the winner deserves a kiss?' His purring voice sends electric charges in your lower abdomen, triggering feelings that you're not sure you're ready to deal with at the moment. "Just one kiss...' San begins plants wet, short kisses on the strip of bare skin between your short top and your shorts.

You're completely silent for a few moments, mentally weighing the pros and cons as San continues to plant wet, insistent, open-mouthed kisses on the soft skin of your stomach. A slight shiver of excitement runs down your spine as you feel him slowly run his tongue over the places where the hickeys he's left behind, his lingering, dissolute kisses, and which you're sure Seonghwa won't be happy to see on you, have already started to turn purple.

But even so, you don't try to stop him, and you let San do whatever he wants. You know that he won't let go of you so easily for this once, and that he can be so stubborn when he wants something badly or needs something certain, and maybe, just maybe, right now you need the same thing as San. All this tension between you was so palpable that you could almost taste it on your tongue—a little bit bitter, a little bit sweet, sharp and lingering, like a kiss after hot sex.

Just one kiss... what could be wrong with that? You're just going to taste it; you're convincing yourself. Just let it taste...

"Okay.' You say at last, and you feel his lips curl up in a victorious grin.

He pulls his handsome face away from your belly and lifts his languid, feline gaze to you. And you hate the way it makes you catch your breath every time, as far as intense and dark his gaze is. San's eyes are predator's eyes—sharp, hungry, and burning; they're the eyes of a big cat on the hunt. A tiger's eyes, having found its prey. Eyes that you will never be able to forget. His lips are parted a little, and before he can say a word, you are one step ahead of him.

"Just one kiss, San. Nothing more. Do you have my meaning?" You wish that your voice would sound more demanding, but instead there's an uncertainty and a slight nervousness in it that is just as clear to San as it is to you. "I'm serious, San, one kiss." It's practically stupid, and you're not at all sure whether you're saying it to San or to yourself.

'Whatever you want, my angel.' He leans back on the back of the couch, relaxed, with a smug grin on his face. There it is again—that damn nickname—what's a jerk after all. "Come on, Dolly, come to me." San runs the broad palms of his hands over his muscular, luscious thighs, letting you know exactly where he wants you to be. You let out a heavy sigh and, irritated, toss the cotton ball full of alcohol and the rest of the ointment into the bin next to the couch before you awkwardly sit down on his lap.

As soon as you are sitting on San's lap, his hands are on your waist, digging their fingers into the soft flesh and squeezing it roughly, only to pull you even closer to him. So close that there is almost no space between your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from his body, the warm, thick smell of perfume and smoke enveloping you and settling in your lungs with every breath you take, and before you know what you're doing, you're pressing your hips harder against his crotch, feeling how hard San has already been for you.

Your hands automatically come to rest on his naked, muscular chest, and you dig your nails into it lightly, leaving angry red crescent marks on his moist, sun-kissed skin. San mooed in satisfaction, welcoming the painful sensation of your nails on his body, and you almost groaned in response. Just when you thought he couldn't get any hotter, Choi San rushed over to prove that the opposite was true.

"Are you happy now?" You want to sound annoyed and displeased, pouting your plump lips, which are shining with a thick, candy pink gloss, and rolling your eyes at him. But the way San looks at you, the way his hands lazily caress the curve of your waist and hips, makes you practically tremble with excitement, making you fold like origami for him. Why does he have to be so... so damn hot? Your skin burns under his touch, and the viscous, sticky wetness between your legs becomes more intense by the minute.

"I'm more than happy, doll. But don't pretend it's just me; it's about time you admitted you want this as much as I do. You like it all, my little slutty angel. Don't you?" San purrs sultrily and pushes his hips up a little, causing a deep, long moan to escape from your throat. His hard cock touches your aching clit as he moves against you, pressing his crotch harder against your clothed pussy.

And frankly, your skimpy shorts and the thin silk panties you wore especially for Seonghwa today do little to diminish the sharp sensation of pleasure coursing through you. Unconsciously, you move your hips to him and rub your pussy against his cock, desperate for more of this delightful stimulation. The contact has been so pleasurable that your hole is clenching around nothing, spurting out even more of your juices and making you moan once more.

"It turns out that all I had to do to get you to moan for me was to put you on my lap." San slaps you hard on the plump buttock and squeezes it together roughly with his big, wiry hand. "Too easy." There's so much arrogance and smugness in his voice that it makes you want to punch him right in the face.

'No, it's not...' Even to yourself, what you're saying sounds completely meaningless. You look at his chiselled face, perfect except for the cut marks and a few small bruises, at those bold, plump lips that are stretched in a devilish grin, at those sweet dimples, and at those damn seductive cat eyes, full of lust and desire. And now San looks more attractive to you than ever—dangerously attractive. So much so that it almost makes you forget about Seonghwa...

"What did I tell you about that sweet expression on your face?' San growls in a low voice. One of his hands grabs you roughly by the back of the head and suddenly pulls you closer to him than you ever thought possible, almost pushing your faces into each other. "You are driving me crazy; do you know that, doll?' He presses his forehead against yours, and your lips are only a millimetre apart. His palm squeezes your neck in a possessive way, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. The sudden, abrupt movement causes you to press even harder against his cock, and the sensation sends a pulse of pleasure through your clit.

Before you have a chance to answer him, San's soft lips are meeting yours in an insistent, hungry kiss. His mouth is so aggressive and demanding; his tongue glides over your lower lip and presses against it. His fingers dig into your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, holding you in place, but there's no need; you already feel so soft and supple to him that you willingly lean into him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck and tangling your fingers in his thick hair, gently pulling the soft strands at the roots. The deep, vibrating moan that San lets out reminds you of the contented purr of a huge cat.

His skilful tongue forces your lips apart and quickly penetrates the inside of your mouth, and you shudder at the sensual sensation as he runs it over your palate, licking the inside of your cheeks and wrapping it around your own tongue. It must look disgusting from the outside—the kiss is rough and dirty, full of tongues and teeth, but you're enjoying it immensely and moaning lustfully against San's lips at the hot need growing inside you.

That's all... Hell, you don't even know how to put it into words. You've been wanting to kiss San ever since you saw him for the first time in the club—dishevelled, hot, all sweaty and battered after his first victorious fight, but so impossibly attractive. You wanted to do it tonight, right after the referee announced that he'd won, and San smiled at you dazzlingly, showing you those sweet, deep dimples you'd always secretly wanted to lick. And you want to kiss him every damn time he's within arm's length of you. Hell, you want to kiss him all the time, over and over again, until you finally satisfy that hunger that's gnawed at your insides for so long.

San pulls your plump lower lip into his moist, warm mouth and gives it a rough sucking before he lets it go with a loud 'pop'. His tongue immediately licks your ajar lips, coating them with his saliva, and it's just unbearable. How on earth are you going to get away from him when he kisses you like that?

"Look at you, Dolly, you're savouring this so much. I bet your sweet, tight cunt is so wet right now. Isn't it?" San whispers in a husky voice before he runs his tongue over your lips once more. "Don't you want to run away from me yet, angel?"

'Just shut up.' You hiss at him before you let him pull you into another kiss that is even deeper and dirtier than the last. Your hips are rocking back and forth, and you are rubbing your needy pussy against his hard cock as San is literally fucking your mouth with his skilful tongue.

You're furious with him. And you're angry that San is absolutely right about you—you love the whole damn thing, so much so that your pussy flows like a waterfall for him, ready and needing him to fill it with his cock and cum until it pours out of you. But most of all, you're angry with yourself, which makes you roll your hips over him even more aggressively and makes you both moan into each other's mouths.

You know that you shouldn't be here, you know that this is going to end badly, and you have absolutely no time to sit on San's lap and let him explore your mouth with his tongue while you dry hump him—and yet you can't bring yourself to leave. Not in the slightest bit. Your willpower is nothing compared to Choi San.

San begins to kiss you even more furiously, biting your lips almost to the point of bleeding. He's so passionate—he licks your mouth with his tongue and literally shoves it down your throat, making it almost impossible for you to breathe. He kisses you like he's dying of thirst, and you're the only way he can fix it. And if San eats pussy the same way he kisses you now, you're not sure you can handle it at all.

Your phone suddenly beeps, alerting you to a new message, and the obnoxious, loud sound finally brings you to your senses. You pull away from San's tantalising, greedy lips, trying to catch your breath and get your thoughts straightened out as he continues to kiss your cheeks and chin lazily.

"I have to go now.' You say softly, to which San just mooed in agreement, as if to say, 'Go on, I won't hold you back', but his lips never leave your skin for a second, and his broad, slightly calloused palm still grips your neck tightly from behind. "I shouldn't be here with you... Seonghwa... he's waiting for me at home, you know." You sound so weak, and to be honest, not convincing even to yourself, let alone San, and the handsome boxer doesn't try to make it easier for you.

He lets go of your neck just long enough to run his fingers over your flushed, pretty face before wrapping them tightly around your chin and tilting your head slightly to the side so that your eyes meet his slanted, feline eyes that are clouded with lust. His gaze is so intense, so searing, that it makes you want to turn away from him. San is looking at you as if he's watching how his fingers are penetrating you, slowly and deeply, stretching your tight hole while you're languidly jerking him off. It's an intimate gaze, too palpably sexual.

San lets out a dark chuckle, full of the most lewd and dirty promises, as he presses his fingers against the edges of your mouth before squeezing it until your plump lips form a silly "duck" shape. A smug, victorious expression was frozen on his face, and he poked the tip of his tongue into the corner of his swollen lips. You can't say a word; all your thoughts are scattered into the dark corners of your mind like cockroaches when a light is turned on.

"I guess you're already late, baby." Genuine amusement glitters in his eyes, and he lets go of you, instead leaning back on the back of the couch as if he were a king. Such an abrupt change in his behaviour is a source of confusion to you.

'What are you...' You don't have time to finish your sentence before the door to the room flings open, letting in the sound of loud, cheerful voices and the deafening roar of music. You almost have the urge to snap at the person who has dared to interrupt your moment with San, but instead you freeze as the room is again engulfed in silence and the only thing you can hear is the clicking sound of high heels and the thunderous beating of your heart echoing in your ears. You freeze like a deer in the headlights as you realise who those high heels belong to, and judging by the devilishly smug grin on San's face, you're not wrong in your guess.

"Ah, there you are, my beautiful little angel...' Seonghwa's purring voice is nothing more than solid darkness wrapped in velvet, and the sound of it sends goosebumps up your arms and makes everything inside of you twist into a tight knot of fear and excitement.

Your senses are a mess, and you're torn between wanting to burst into tears and wanting to rub your cunt against San's cock again, even more desperate now that Seonghwa's appearance has unleashed a new wave of lust in you, even more intense than before. God, the way your body is reacting to the presence of this man next to you is simply beyond any explanation. It was so wild and yet so exhilarating, and perhaps deep down inside you were a complete masochist as you took such incredible pleasure out of it all.

Your nightmare was coming true as he walked leisurely towards you and San, his hands in the pockets of his designer trousers, causing the hem of his luxurious, expensive fur coat to flutter open, revealing the translucent top that covered his torso like a second skin. If San had made you feel like a frightened bunny cornered by a predator, then Seonghwa made you feel like some kind of dark deity was keeping his all-seeing eye on you.

You were completely frozen in your seat—practically out of breath, still in the same compromising position—your pussy pressed tightly against San's thick, hard cock through your clothes as his hand continued to sensuously knead your plump, juicy buttocks.

When Seonghwa is at arm's length from you, deceptively gentle, he runs his fingers through your hair before he tangles his fingers in the long, silky strands and jerks your head backwards, causing you to arch your back and let out a long, hard moan. Damn, you love it when he's so bossy and rough with you.

"Or are you nothing more than a fucking needy slut today, eh? Look at you, keeping your daddy waiting while you rub your slutty cunt all over San's cock." You gasp at the deliciously painful sensation of his fingernails lightly scraping the skin of your scalp as he pulls harder on the long, silky strands of your hair. To be honest, you don't know how to answer him, or rather, what kind of answer would satisfy Seonghwa, so you just remain silent, sinking your teeth into your kiss-swollen lower lip and looking up at him with big, clouded with desire eyes.

"Oh, she is definitely the ultimate slut. You missed a lot, Hwa; the way she rode me just a few minutes ago was quite a sight. And her sweet cunt is soaking wet; I can feel it even through her shorts and panties. I have no doubt that her tight little hole is literally dripping with slime right now." San purrs and slaps your bottom hard, making the soft, plump flesh jiggle, and you whimper pitifully at the sharp, tingling sensation of the burn on your tender skin. Even if you are not in the best position now, a hot wave of dark pleasure washes over your entire body, making your cunt quiver in anticipation of what's to come.

"Well, so..." Seonghwa says carelessly, tugging at your hair once more before he unclenches his fingers and abruptly lets go of your strands, causing your head to swing involuntarily and you to whimper softly. You watch as he turns on his heels and walks over to the chair you had been sitting in and sits in it elegantly, as if on a throne. He looks unbelievable, wicked, and smouldering with dark sexuality, swathed in expensive fur, and with his legs spread wide, you want to crawl over and bury your face in his cock. Hwa is stretched out in his chair, leaning back into the soft backrest and staring at you with heavy siren eyes.

You have no idea at all what's going on here. Shouldn't Seonghwa be furious about this? You're literally sitting on another man's cock, and not just any man, but Choi San, the golden boy of the Fight Club that Hwa owns, your panties and shorts soaked through and your lips so swollen and covered in saliva and remnants of thick candy pink gloss that it looks like you've been selflessly sucking cock for hours, not just kissing. And all your incredibly possessive and bossy sugar daddy does is sit back in his chair and stare at you as if he's sitting in the front row of a fashion show.

"Since you say so, San. I guess you have to show me how slutty my angel can be." Seonghwa's voice is nothing but solid darkness, wrapped in velvet. He emphasises the word 'my', and for the first time in a long while, you can hear the venom in his words. Outwardly, he may look and act completely indifferent, maybe even a little bored, but inside he's seething with jealousy at how much you're enjoying San and how he's touching you. "Don't let my presence distract you; just pick up where you left off."

'What?' You blink dumbly at him, your brain so clouded with lust and need that you are unable to process the words he has just said properly.

"You heard me, angel, keep on fucking." Seonghwa just tilts his head to the side, looks at you with siren eyes, and licks his plump, kissable lips in a sensual way. You swallow loudly at this sight, because that's the way he usually looks at you when he's devouring your pussy or fucking you deep, throwing your legs over his shoulders and thrusting his hips into you with such force that the back of the bed hits the wall with every thrust and his tight balls slap against your plump, soft buttocks, making the skin on them blush angrily red and tingle slightly. In front of your mind's eye, you instantly flash back to this morning, when Seonghwa gave you the same siren's gaze that he's giving you right now, as he tickled your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue and stretched your hole with two long fingers.

'But... Seonghwa... I...' Your voice is hardly louder than a whisper when you speak. "Aren't you... Aren't you upset?" It embarrasses you so much, but at the same time you can't deny how much the thought of Seonghwa watching you while San fucks you is getting you excited.

"Oh, my little angel, aren't you a sweetie, eh?" Seonghwa gives a dark chuckle. He bites the tip of his index finger in a playful way and tilts his head to the side, looking up at you through his long, fluffy eyelashes.

You always loved how playful he could be with you at times, but at the moment it was more frightening than comforting, for you knew very well that his playfulness could go far beyond the limits of normalcy, and it never ended well.

"And what makes you think that I should be upset, my love?" His voice drops to a dangerous, dark purr, and this sound pierces you, sending signals straight to your needy pussy, causing more of your sticky, sweet juices to spill out. "Maybe it's because you're practically shoving your slutty cunt right in San's face? I bet your pussy is dripping wet and throbbing with the need to be filled with his cock." He says it so casually and simply, and somehow it's so fucking hot that you don't know what you want more—to beg him for forgiveness or to fuck you silly.

Seonghwa slowly runs his tongue over his sensual, luscious lips, and this movement is so practised and deliberate that it sends shivers down your spine.

"But you know what, Angel? Daddy would do anything for you, and if you want to fuck him, then go right ahead and do it. You can ride his cock all day long; I don't give a shit. Because once he's fucked you, you'll come crawling back to me because you know you belong to me and me alone."

Seonghwa's words barely get through to you. You can see the way his stunning, perfectly sculpted lips move when he speaks; you can hear the velvety quality of his voice, but you still can't quite make out their meaning.

Your mind is reminded of cotton candy—fluffy and airy, deliciously sweet, and melting with excitement. You shift your confused gaze from Seonghwa to San, hoping that the handsome boxer will clear your thoughts a little, but instead all you get is a sinful, predatory grin and the look of his seductive, half-closed eyes piercing through you and promising you a straight shot to paradise.

It was enough to make your blood boil with desire. Your excitement was so obvious to them, almost palpable, and despite this humiliating fact, the thrill that fluttered in your lower belly and sent goosebumps of heat between your juicy thighs intensified even more.

‘I don't know...It's all so... complicated...' A quiet sob escapes from your throat as San grabs you by the throat and pushes his hips up, causing his hard cock to rub against your clit in the most delightful way. His hand clenches harder on your neck, causing you to gasp from the sudden lack of air. Your eyes roll up at the rough, possessive grip, and you unconsciously roll your hips over him, your throbbing, swollen clit pressed tightly against his hard cock. San's eyes narrow, and he curses under his breath when he sees how fucked you already look. He thrusts his hips into you again, and this action completely shuts down any rationality in your thinking.

"I don't think so, doll." San whispers in a devilish voice, pressing his hot lips to your shoulder and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses there; your skin melts under his touch, making you moan and wriggle even harder in his lap. "Just say yes, baby; that's all you need. You want this so badly, don't you?" San's silky voice slides over your body as if he's licking it with his tongue. He continues persistently to coax you into giving in to temptation, making your skin crawl, and as his teeth dig lightly at your collarbone, your brain finally loses all contact with reality, and you give in, letting your lust take control of you.

"Yes, I want to." You squeakily out, but San's hand around your neck makes the sound distorted and broken. 'Please.' You add even more softly. And apparently that's exactly what they wanted, because the next moment the handsome boxer suddenly releases your throat, and you begin to gasp slightly as air begins to flow freely into your lungs again.

"There you go, such a good girl." San purrs, and that guttural, silky sound vibrates against your skin, making you shiver with excitement. You try to get your breathing back to a normal rhythm by taking slow, deep breaths. Your head is a little dizzy, and you are about to fall to the floor, stumbling on your wobbly, shaky legs as San pushes you off his lap and forces you to stand right in front of him.

You stare at him in confusion, not understanding why he would push you away when just a few minutes ago he was the one rubbing his cock all over your pussy and urging you to fuck him. But San just lifts his split eyebrow at you in silence and smiles mischievously, looking at you with his heavy bedroom eyes, as if his facial expression should have told you everything you needed to know.

"What... what am I supposed to do?" It comes out almost shyly, as if you weren't the one dry humping another guy in front of your sugar daddy, and apparently Seonghwa finds it amusing too. You can hear his cheerful, velvety laugh behind your back before he elegantly gets up from his seat and comes back to you and hugs you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on the top of your head. You almost instantly dissolve into his arms, drowning in the luxurious, expensive fur of his fur coat as he pulls you closer to his body.

"You can be such a fool sometimes, my love; it can't help but amuse me." Seonghwa purrs, leaning down to your face and running the tip of his nose along your rounded, ruddy cheek. "San wants you to show him how good a slut you can be for him and how beautiful you look on your knees with a cock in your mouth. I'm sure that's been on his mind ever since he saw you giving Yunho a blowjob in the locker room, isn't it?" Hwa whispers into your ear, and you see San's eyes narrow dangerously as he says it, going even darker, and you could swear you see something utterly evil flashing in those deep chocolate irises. Oh, Seonghwa seems to have hit a nerve, and you know full well that he did it on purpose.

“Of course I did, Hwa. How could I not have thought of that? Dolly was quite a sight, so desperate, milking his cock with her mouth, sucking his balls, and lapping up his cum as if her life depended on it. You don't seem to be able to satisfy her appetite enough to keep her from seeking the attention of other men, Seonghwa." Parries San, and you are practically gasping for breath at such blatant insolence. You've never heard of anyone being so openly in Seonghwa's face before, and it's both a delight and a fright to you.

'You bastard.' Seonghwa hisses at him. You can feel the irritation and anger coming from him, but he still does nothing to stop this game. Instead, he encourages it to continue. His hands let go of your waist, and he placed them on your shoulders instead, squeezing them so hard that you started to go down until you found yourself on your knees between San's spread legs. The handsome boxer's cock is a foot away from your face, and even though you haven't touched it yet, you can see how tight the muscles in his abs and thighs are, taut like steel cables under the golden, wet skin. It was an image that you wanted to stay with you forever. Your palms automatically rested on his inner thighs, and you lightly clenched the fabric of his shorts. "Have fun with her while you still can, San. You may never have the chance to play with my princess again." Hwa says in a mocking tone and strokes your head gently before he gives you a kiss on the top of your head.

"Oh, trust me, Seonghwa, I will, and when I'm done with her, she won't be able to think of anything else than me." San wraps a hand around his thick, hard cock through the fabric of his shorts, and you swallow loudly, already imagining how heavy and hot it is going to be on your tongue.

"You are overconfident, San, but anyway...' He turns your face towards him to lick your lips with his tongue, coating them with a shiny, thick layer of his saliva. The action, totally dirty and lascivious, is so damn hot, and you instinctively stick your tongue out of your mouth so that Seonghwa can spit on it, which he does. With your eyes glazed over with lust, you watch as your sugar daddy collects the saliva in his mouth and spits it out onto your waiting tongue. He lets out a deep purr at the sight of a thick, viscous drop rolling down your pink tongue, which you immediately swallow with a sweet moan. "Aren't you the prettiest one? Such an obedient slut for your daddy." He licks your lips again, and you reach up in the hope of catching his tongue with your lips and sucking on it, but your desperation only makes him giggle. "You can do that later, my angel; I promise you that. Now give me a good show and work his dick with your hot, slutty mouth." And you obey the order.

Seonghwa moves away from you, leaving you at the mercy of San, and sits back down in his chair, unbuckling the belt on his trousers and beginning to stroke himself slowly. His seductive siren's eyes are uninterruptedly watching your every move.

As you turn your attention back to San, a pitiful gasp comes from your chest, and you clench your thighs tighter in a futile attempt to reduce your arousal. You feel so small under the weight of that dark, feline gaze of his. His eyes roam over your form, his predatory gaze gliding over every curve of your body before it lingers at your boobs, almost falling out of your top. San's tongue slips out of his mouth, and he slowly licks his wounded lips, leaving a glistening trail of saliva on them.

"Show me those big plump tits, baby. I want to see them bouncing while I fuck that sweet, doll-like face of yours." San purrs in a sultrily way, and there's a hoarseness to his voice that wasn't there before, but you're too caught up in the sight of San running his thumbs under the elastic of his gym shorts and pulling them down, finally exposing his big, pre-cum oozing cock. The sight of it is the cause of a salivary gush in your mouth.

Your hands reach up and begin to slowly pull the thin straps of your satin top down from your shoulders until your heavy, luscious tits are completely exposed and your top is gathered up at your waist in a useless strip of fabric. San's plump lips curl up in an approving smile, revealing his deep, sweet dimples as he finally gets to see your bare breasts in all their glory. Your fingers slide over your aureoles, your nipples hardening from the pleasurable stimulation, and you gently run your thumb pads over the sensitive, swollen buds, a soft moan of pleasure escaping your parted lips.

"Fuck, baby, you've got such amazing tits, so big, heavy, and so soft. Greatest titties I've ever seen. I want to cum all over your tits; cover them with my sperm. I'll milk your tits dry, Dolly, make you cum from sensations of my mouth on your nipples." San's voice is full of dark promise, and it makes more and more of the moisture seep out of your trembling hole. He squeezes his cock harder in his broad palm, caressing the thick, throbbing length with a wet squelching sound before he pushes in lightly, making his beautiful, thick thighs tense even more. Hell, his cock is literally dripping with pre-cum; the swollen, reddened head has been covered in a thick layer of glistening, viscous glaze, and you can practically taste the sweet taste of his cum on the tip of your tongue.

"Do you like my tits that much, San?" You rock your tits gently in the palms of your hands at the feel of their weight. The plump flesh of them barely fits in your hands.

"So damn much, babe." The sexy boxer lets out a low, husky moan as he continues to pleasure himself. His cock twitches weakly in the palm of his hand as he watches you playing with yourself, massaging your breasts and tweaking your swollen nipples. You could swear that the moaning that comes out of his lips is the hottest you've ever heard, of course after the moaning and whimpering of Seonghwa. You wonder if you'll ever be able to make the temperamental boxer whimper and beg. The thought of San writhing and whimpering under your care as you ride him like a thoroughbred stallion makes a small trickle of sticky fluid flow out of you.

A velvety moan from behind your back grabs your attention, and for a second you turn your head over your shoulder to take a look at your gorgeous daddy. Seonghwa's overly plump, glossy lips are parted with a lingering, soft moan; his feline, black eyes are clouded with pleasure and slightly out of focus as his graceful hand caresses his beautiful, thick cock. God, you still can't understand how you managed to get the attention of such a gorgeous, sexy man, but that's the last thing you can think about right now. Especially when he brings his long, pre-cum-covered fingers to his lips and smears them over the overly plump, soft flesh before he sticks out his tongue and licks the sticky residue off the delicate appendages.

Until the last drop of pre-cum disappears into his mouth, Hwa slowly caresses the fingers with his long, expert tongue. The sight of it sends a new wave of heat through your body, and the silky walls of your cunt tremble and become even wetter. The whimper that comes out of you at the sight of this filthy thing is almost pitiful.

"Don't let me distract you, angel. I want to see you sucking him off. I want to see you choking on his big cock as you take him deep down your pretty little throat. Can you do that for Daddy, Angel?" Seonghwa's voice has the sound of melted honey. The sugary tone is such a strong contrast to the dirty, vulgar words that come out of his sensual mouth. And it makes you roll your eyes and let out a loud moan. Hell, he's fucking you without even touching you at all.

"Yes, yes, daddy. I'll do everything for you. Anything you want me to do.' You squirm slightly in your spot, squeeze your thighs together, and bite your plump lower lip.

"Such a good girl. Keep playing with San, Angel.' Seonghwa casts his dark, burning gaze over your body one last time, lingering briefly on your swollen, tense nipples before waving his hand at you. He silently commands you to turn away and give your full attention to San. Which you do immediately.

When you turn back to San, you look at him innocently through your fluffy eyelashes, knowing full well the effect it has on men when you know how quickly Seonghwa gets hard when you give him that look of false innocence. And apparently he's not the only one turned on by it, because you can see San's cock twitching in his palm and he hissing in pain or pleasure as he sinks his teeth into the bruised flesh of his lower lip.

"Can I suck your dick...? You stammer slightly now that your game has moved from playful teasing to actual sex, not knowing how to address him right.

'Daddy, my doll.' The look on San's face is so intense and powerful that it makes your blood boil with the desire to satisfy him in every possible way. "You can call me "Daddy." You hear Seonghwa's sarcastic chuckle behind your back and see San's lips open in response, but you quickly distract him from another verbal altercation with your sugar daddy.

"So you're going to let me suck you off, Daddy?". You lick your plump lips greedily, glistening with the sticky residue of candy pink glitter and Seonghwa's saliva, running your tongue in deliberately slow motion over the soft flesh and placing your palms on the inside of his thighs. Your face is practically resting on his hard, oozing cock, and you blow lightly on it, causing San to throw his head back, exposing his long, seductive neck with its scattering of freckles and straining, swollen veins, as he rolls his eyes in pleasure. 'Please.' You add as you arch your spine and move your face even closer to his crotch, leaving a light, weightless kiss on the top of his taut balls.

'Fuck, doll.' San growls, grabbing your hair and pulling your face up so you meet his gaze with yours. 'Do you want to taste my cock that badly, baby girl?' His eyebrow lifts in a teasing manner. He wraps his hand around the base of his cock and slaps the swollen, reddening head against your lips. Each time he pulls it away from your mouth, long strands of your drool, mixed with pre-cum, stretch from your lips to his cock.

"Yes, Daddy, I want it so badly. Let me taste your cock; I want to feel it on my tongue, in my throat. Please, Daddy, please." You spread your legs slightly, and the fabric of your tiny satin shorts stretches across your crotch, digging in between your labia and perfectly outlining the contours of your plump little cunt. This did nothing to hide how wet you were now, so both San and Seonghwa could see the dark wet stain on the thin fabric.

"Oh, shit, angel." Seonghwa curses, and you can hear him shift a little in his seat, but you still do not make the slightest attempt to turn around and look at him. You can be sure that if the situation were different, Seonghwa's godlike face would be buried between your thighs by now. But right now he has to restrain his desires and just watch what's going on. "Stop playing with her, San, and give the princess what she wants." His voice is condemning, but you know very well that this is nothing but a farce. Hwa himself can torment you for hours by rubbing his cock over your face or slapping it on your tongue and cheeks before he lets you take it in your mouth.

The only thing your daddy had no patience for was eating your pussy. Seonghwa couldn't tease you for more than a minute before he would suckle with his gorgeous mouth on your warm, tight cunt and feast on it for hours. He would stick his tongue deep into your tiny hole and suck your juices like the exquisite vintage wine he loved so much, although he also liked to drink it from your pussy too.

San slaps his cock against your mouth a couple of more times before he presses the head of it against your lower lip and gently pushes it in the inviting, moist warmth of your mouth.

"You heard your man, baby girl. Open your mouth and take this cock, Angel." You almost want to roll your eyes at those words, you petty bastard. But when San's sharp feline eyes meet yours and he gives you a smug, predatory grin that makes you squirm in your seat between his spread legs, all your insolence melts away in an instant.

San's hand runs through your hair in a deceptively affectionate manner, pulling a few strands away from your beautiful face so that he can get a better look at you as your sweet mouth opens and his thick cock slowly enters you. Your jaw tenses up as you try to get used to the size of it, the swollen, throbbing veins rubbing against your tongue as he pushes deeper and deeper. San clenches a large handful of your silky curls in his fist before pulling them out with force. He rolls his eyes and hisses through clenched teeth as the blunt head of his cock hits the back of your throat and his balls rest against your chin.

Your mouth is full to the brim, your plump lips stretching beautifully around the hot, velvety girth, pressing tightly against it and enveloping the sensitive length with warm, wet breath, but even that doesn't stop you from moving your tongue and kitten licking the sensitive spot where his cock joins his heavy, cum-filled balls.

The moan he makes when you do it goes straight to your pussy and your silky walls clench around nothing. Delicate, velvety skin tingles under the caress of your tongue, and it makes his cock throb in your mouth. The sight of you choking on his cock and drooling all over his balls almost brings San to the brink of his limit.

"Look at you, doll, you're already drooling like a mindless slut, and I haven't even fucked that sweet face yet." San's thumb caresses your soft cheek, cooing sweetly before he slaps you lightly on the cheek, causing you to gasp and unknowingly let his cock go deeper down your throat.

You choke on it, the slippery walls of your throat tightening around his cock, pressing on the sensitive, swollen veins that stretch seductively along its massive, heavy length. The sensation makes him curse, and the nasty gagging, gurgling sound you make seems so sexy that San doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of it. Seonghwa makes his own wet whimpering noise as he watches your deep throat the handsome boxer's cock as he masturbates on you.

San pulls your head up by the hair until the only thing left in your mouth is your wet, reddened head, and you wipe the tears from your eyes. Wiping away the tears that begin to gather in the corners of your eyes, you look up at him with the most enchanting, tender look of pure innocence as you let his cock completely out of your mouth with a loud 'pop'. You give a wet smack to the swollen, mushroom-shaped head of his cock, the viscous saliva bubbling up before it bursts and runs down his cock and your chin in thick strands.

"Oh fuck, baby doll, you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth. A perfect little cocksucker." The sweet praise makes your delicate hole clench around nothing and your clit throbs as if San had just licked it with his tongue. 'Let me fuck your angelic face, sweetheart? I'm sure Seonghwa can't wait to see me stuff my cock down your tight little throat up to my balls. San purrs passionately as he looks down at you before he pushes his muscular thighs up so that his massive length slaps against your mouth and cheeks a couple of times.

'Yes, Daddy, I want it.' You whimper as you flutter your long, fluffy eyelashes and run your lips sweetly over the sensitive, velvety flesh of his cock, leaving short kisses on it. "Please, I want to feel you deep in my throat."

San growls, cupping the back of your head roughly with his palm and pressing down hard, forcing your pretty, flushed face to press even harder against his thick, wetted with saliva and pre-cum length. He doesn't need to tell you anything; you obediently open your warm, moist mouth and allow San to push his massive cock back between your swollen lips, stretching them beautifully around the hard, velvety flesh and pulsating, swollen veins.

His broad shoulders tense visibly, muscles tightening and contracting under his sweaty golden skin, and he moans gutturally as he watches you lower yourself onto him. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you savour the slightly painful sensation from his huge cock as it pushes deeper and deeper into your throat, pulling the tight, slippery walls apart until you are choking on it completely. His cock is practically choking you as San holds your head in place, preventing you from being able to move away from him and take a full breath. San's broad, slightly rough palms begin to massage the sides of your neck to ease the tension a little as he holds you against his cock, your nose resting against the smooth, warm skin of his pubic and his heavy balls pressed tightly against your chin.

"That's my good girl." San moans, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes as your tongue presses against the swollen, throbbing vein on his cock. His stomach tenses up, and his taut pecs rise and fall with a heavy, hoarse intake of breath.

"My girl San, she's my fucking girl." Seonghwa hisses angrily. But that doesn't seem to bother the handsome boxer at all, as he just laughs grimly, clutching your hair in his fist and pulling your head away from his cock to admire your sweet, tear-stained face and your swollen, fucked lips.

"Of course she is, Hwa. She's all yours." San replies in a caustic tone. He enters your mouth once more, thrusting into it roughly and jerkily, hitting the back of your throat with the head of his cock each time. "Breathe through your nose, dolly." The brunette warns you before he forces your head down onto his cock until your nose is pressed against the smooth, wet skin of his pubic and his balls are pressed tightly against your chin. San holds your head still, and you begin to gasp, your throat walls tightening around his thick length as you try to breathe.

"Damn, doll, I'm going to cum. Do you want my cum, kitten?' He growls, pulling at your hair as he finally begins to fuck you in the throat. He thrusts into your mouth, sharp and deep, his hot length sliding between the narrow walls of your throat with a disgusting wet sound. San rolls his hips smoothly and fucks you in the face, his rhythm steady and deep.

You moan affirmatively, looking at him with huge, sweet eyes. With every move he makes, his heavy, thick cock rubs against your soft tongue, and you suck in your cheeks to give him even more pleasure. This makes San hisses like a big wildcat. This deep, sexy sound excites you more, and you dig your long, sharp nails into his luxurious thighs, leaving on them long scarlet stripes.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" The brunet asks, wrapping his fingers around your neck and pressing down lightly so that he can feel the bulge of his cock in your throat every time he enters you. This also cuts off what little room you had left to breathe. "Your plump, slutty cunt must be leaking so hard right now, isn't it, doll? You're just dying for me to cum in it and destroy that tight, sweet hole of yours."

His disgustingly dirty but incredibly hot words make you whimper pitifully around his massive girth, sending pleasurable vibrations through his sensitive cock.

You can feel his muscular thighs tense up under the palms of your hands as San throws his head back and lets out a loud, prolonged moan of pure pleasure. It's a deep, pornographic sound that comes straight from his chest, and it's at that very moment that your mouth begins to fill with his warm sperm.

San cums heavily on your tongue—a warm stream of thick, milky liquid runs down the back of your throat, causing you to choke. You slowly breathe through your nose and try to fight against your gag reflex as you drink his cum, little by little.

You try to swallow all of it, but there's so much of his sperm that some of it starts to leak out of your mouth, dripping down your chin and down the silky length of his cock, coating it in a sticky, milky glaze. You have to pull yourself away from him so that you can swallow it properly and savour the rich, bittersweet taste of it.

"Come on, kitten, show me your tongue." San purrs and looks up at you in a seductive way with his dark, feline eyes. His gaze is hazy and unfocused from the orgasm he's just experienced, and he gives you a lecherous grin, showing off his deep dimples as he continues to stroke his cock lazily.

You swallow noisily a thick mixture of sticky cum and your own drool, looking up at San with your big, deceptively innocent eyes before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue.

"Look at you, baby doll." San purrs in a condescending manner and slaps his big cock against your tongue. Another copious stream of cum splashes onto your soft appendage, some of it landing on your lips and cheeks, coating your angelic face with thick, milky goo. "I always knew you were made to suck my cock, my little slut." He grabs your hair again and pulls you to his face for a kiss.

It's a dirty, sloppy, even slightly disgusting, open-mouthed kiss with lots of drool and sperm. San doesn't care at all that you haven't had time to swallow his share; he shoves his tongue deep down your throat, licks the inside of your cheeks, and then slides his tongue over your tongue to taste his own cum. This has you whimpering and moaning into his lips, your little arms wrapped around his thick, tense neck as you continue to kiss each other. San persistently explores your mouth with his tongue while his hands cradle your heavy, plump tits, roughly massaging the soft flesh and thumb rubbing your sensitive, swollen nipples.

The fact that Seonghwa doesn't seem to mind all of this and allows you to fuck San right in front of his eyes makes you even more horny. In fact, it's always been your little forbidden fantasy—you've imagined San touching you, licking your pussy and filling your little hole with his dick and sperm more than once or twice. But the fact that Hwa is involved in all of this drives you absolutely crazy. It's hard for you to comprehend what's happening, especially when San pulls and twists your nipples with his rough fingers again and another pair of hands goes to your hips before starting to pull down your soaked shorts and slutty panties until your sticky, plump cunt is fully exposed. Long strands of your arousal flow from your hole, dripping down to San's thighs and tempting Seonghwa to lick your silky, shiny folds, which he does right away.

Your hips arch as Seonghwa's long tongue slides down your slit from your dripping, quivering hole to your throbbing clit; the sharp tip dipping between your labia, caressing the soft, sensitive folds that are covered in a thick layer of your sweet mucus.

'Daddy!' You squeal, pulling away from San's swollen, hot lips and clawing at his broad, muscular shoulders with your long fingernails with such force that drops of blood begin to show on his skin.

'Do you like to play rough, sweetheart?' San hisses and suddenly slaps your tit. An angry red mark immediately blooms where his palm has made contact with your plump flesh. Your arousal is so obvious that you can practically feel it tingling on your skin; a fresh load of slime pours out of your hole, and Seonghwa immediately licks it up, velvety purring as the viscous liquid runs down his tongue and into his throat. He squeezes your thighs violently, long fingers digging into your flesh to pull your thick, juicy thighs closer to him so he can bury his godlike face in your aching, slutty cunt. "I asked you a question, Dolly." The handsome boxer slaps your breasts again, causing you to make a pitiful whimper.

"Yes...' You can barely speak; your words are all of gasping and sobbing, especially when Hwa rubs her pretty nose against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders at the new stimulation, and you dig your nails into San's shoulders even harder than before. "Yes, I like that, Daddy.".

'Daddy, huh?' Seonghwa hisses furiously and pulls his beautiful, sensual mouth away from your needy pussy. You squeal loudly as he suddenly slaps your swollen, sensitive clit with his graceful palm. The painful sensation is quickly replaced by euphoric, sweet pleasure spreading through your body like a liquid flame. "You know, you should be ashamed of yourself for the way you have behaved, my angel." Hwa purrs as he slaps your pussy a couple of more times. You give a pitiful whimper, shivering with your whole body and clinging even more tightly to San like a helpless little kitten.

"Please, Daddy, I'm so sorry...I'll behave better...' Your tone is so whiny, almost pleading. You choke on your own words, which sound more like intermittent breathing than anything coherent. "I promise I'll make it up to you, Daddy. I'll do everything for you. Please...'

"What about me, baby doll? Will you do anything for me? San whispers, sultry and husky, drawing your attention back to him; his wet, swollen lips, swollen from kissing and bruising, touch yours with every word he utters.

'I...' You start, but you never get a chance to finish your sentence as Seonghwa, without warning, plunges two long fingers into your tight, tiny hole all the way to the base. His fingers flex inside you, the soft pads pressing against the sensitive, spongy bundle of nerves, and you moan long and hard. More and more of the sweet nectar is oozing out of your hole, coating his fingers and dripping down onto San's thighs.

"I feel like you forget yourself all the time, San." Seonghwa's hisses. He pulls his long fingers out of you at an excruciatingly slow pace, dragging them along the silky walls of your pussy and making sure you feel every moment of it very vividly. "Y/N belongs to me and only to me. She is mine. And I think it's time for me to remind you of that." There is pure venom in Songhwa's voice, and you can't deny that it turns you on. But I have to say, it's pretty sweet that you have the idea that she could be yours." He continues to taunt the handsome boxer.

San just laughs, slides his hand between your thighs, and cups your pussy with his broad palm in a possessive way. Your hips automatically begin to move in search of sweet stimulation, and this movement has you rubbing against San's palm, your swollen clit sliding against the rough skin in the most delightful way. You arch your back and push back your plump booty as you shake it a little, making the juicy flesh wiggle seductively, and you hope that this will entice Sunhwa to put his fingers inside you once more and press his tongue against your cunt. God, you wanted to cum so badly, but it seems that the two impossibly sexy and powerful men, who now had you trapped between their gorgeous bodies, had plans of their own for you.

"Oh really?" San snorts with a grim chuckle. "Oh, daddy, her cunt is flowing for me, all sticky, sweet, and ready to be filled with my sperm. You haven't even made her cum yet; is that really how you are supposed to treat the sugar pussy of your princess, huh? If she were mine, I'd suck on her pussy until she squirted all over my face, then I'd do it again and again until I milked it dry'. San leans down to your ear, and his hot breath touches the sensitive skin of your earlobe, sending a tingling sensation through your whole body. He runs the tip of his tongue over your delicate flesh, grinning lewdly and looking directly into Songhwa's dark, squinting eyes. "And it seems you're the one who forgets, Hwa." San presses down on your trembling, tight hole and pushes two fingers into you with a loud, squelching sound. 'I never lose."

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @stay-tiny-things @moondanse94

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part III @yyaurii @infrenchexit @sanniesbum @jaxyy219 @lostxxgirl @m1sss1mp @manipulatedstars @cotton-candycloudz @kienhawon @flowerxsin @londonbridges01 @fluffyyongbokie @sang-09 @hobarihope @sanniesaur @luvbit3z @sanriomilk @s4erin @sanhwalvr @mallielovssyou @slytherinslays @your-bloodbag @cherricola-star @passionandsuga @hwasangel

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dreamsteddie · 1 month ago

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Nancy knows what people think when they see her and Steve together these days. People mostly include Robin Buckley who, despite what they both say, Nancy doesn't completely believe isn't carrying some kind of torch for the man.

They aren't dating, but it's obvious to anyone who knows them that's what Nancy is angling for. She's not subtle, and she's not trying to be. Doesn't see any reason why she should be. But she knows what it looks like. Nancy Wheeler, fresh off an amicable but heartbreaking end to her relationship with Johnathan Byers has turned tail for a rebound with former boyfriend Steve Harrington. She's using him. She's leading him on. She's going to break his heart, again.

The truth is that Nancy has always liked Steve, was in love with Steve for a fleeting moment when they were both young and stupid and full of mistakes waiting to be made and in the end they had hurt each other, misunderstood each other, too many times to last through their tumultuous teenage years.

The Nancy and Steve of 1984 couldn't have loved each other right, but Nancy knows in her heart that the Nancy and Steve of 1987 could make something beautiful.

Steve is so different from who he used to be. There's a steadiness in him that he always tried to emulate but never fully embodied until the summer of 1985. He always knew how to make her laugh, how to get her to tap into that adventurous spirit within her and live life, but now he also makes her feel safe.

She wants to hold him the way he used to hold her. Wants to whisk him away to New York and build a life perfectly balanced between her ambition and his steadfastness. So she's putting everything she has into rekindling those embers that have always smoldered between them into a steady fire.

She just has to convince Robin that she's in it for the long haul this time.

------

Robin thinks that before she met Steve Harrington her life was never so much like a soap opera.

Her best friend seems to attract danger, betrayal, and romance to him like the world is full of moths and he's the only flame for miles. It would be funnier if it wasn't so god damn annoying sometimes.

Steve doesn't know it, despite how much he insists on being some kind of love expert, but he's got two very eligible bachelors vying for his hand at the moment. She's pretty sure they both see themselves as tragic heroes in this tale of romance, but from her vantage point, it's more like two ornery cats fighting for the prized spot of their owner's lap.

Nancy and Eddie have made themselves both near-permanent fixtures at the Family Video. Ostensibly, they come in because Hawkins is still in the process of rebuilding and there isn't much to do at the moment outside of wandering the woods, loitering at the convenience store, and watching movies at home. In actuality they're both trying to monopolize as much of Steve's time as possible, each trying to lock down his weekend plans before the other.

The first couple of weeks it was funny just to watch, now the only enjoyment she gets out of the whole circus is ruining their plans. She relishes the pissed-off-priss look she gets from Nancy when she asks Steve to go to the drive-in the next town over and Robin turns it into a group outing instead. It's equally funny to watch Eddie's puffed-up shoulders droop when he can't figure out a way to say no to Robin enthusiastically asking if she can join them at the trailer to smoke up on a Saturday night.

In truth, as much as she enjoys messing with them, Robin knows who she wants to win this war. She knows too much about Steve and Nancy's past and all the ways they weren't good for each other to trust her deceptively fragile best friend in Nancy's capable hands.

Eddie, on the other hand...well she's still going to make him work for it before she throws him a bone.

------

Eddie's never been one to fall in love.

He's had crushes, shared a few kisses with girls and boys alike, and lost his virginity in the same fumbling but meaningful way most teens do.

But love? He's never had that before, wasn't sure what it would even feel like.

It turns out that for Eddie, being in love feels a lot like being an overgrown house plant that's finally been moved into suitably a larger pot.

You see, Eddie knows a lot about growing up on his own. Raising himself and finding ways to survive, if not thrive, with a distinct lack of nurturing. He knows how to grow under someone, to grow under the clumsy guidance of his uncle Wayne who never intended to become a parent. And most of all he knows a hell of a lot about growing despite. Growing under the harsh boot forever trying to push him back into the hard dirt he came from.

It's something else entirely to grow with someone in the way he's been growing with Steve.

Steve who was there when he woke up, almost equally as injured as Eddie himself after a second, world saving round with Vecna. Steve who let Eddie lean on him in the difficult month of physical and emotional recovery that came next. Who helped Eddie come to terms with the new reality he was living under the way Steve wished someone had been there for him after his first encounter with the Upsidedown. Steve, who on paper should have been one of the people pushing him down, always gave Eddie the space to be himself and never tried to force either of them into a box they didn't fit.

Eddie knows he's not The Girl. He's not the one who got away, he's not the stalwart princess in one of his campaigns who saves the day herself but still gets the guy. He's not Nancy Wheeler.

But he's also not a quitter, and even if everything about the world and the narrative arc of their lives says that Steve will never end up with him, Eddie knows he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't put his hat in the ring for the hand of the fair Sir Steve.

------

Steve's not stupid.

He knows that there's something happening between Nancy, Eddie, and himself. Knows that if he chooses to look a little closer, to examine why exactly all his weekends are suddenly booked up and Robin has taken to stealing the Recese's Pieces off the shelf whenever either one of them comes into the store like she's settling in for a show, he would come to the conclusion that two of his best friends are essentially courting him in competition with each other.

But Steve isn't looking closer.

His mom always said that he was just like his father, too stubborn for his own good.

Robin says he's a control freak, pushing non-life-threatening problems off until he knows how to deal with them on his own terms.

The truth is Steve already knows how this will end, and he knows how this should end.

Because in the eyes of society, in the arc of the narrative, Steve and Nancy should already be making plans to move out to New York and start a life together. Steve should be looking at apartments while Nancy finalizes her class schedule. He should be looking into getting a job at his dad's New York office to support his future wife through her college education where they both know she'll breeze through her classes and move onto the world-changing career she was always meant to have, while Steve stays home with their children like a perfect little modern family.

And the thing is, if the story had gone like it was supposed to, if the world had been saved the fourth time around and Eddie Munson had died on the cold, hard ground of the Upsidown, that's probably exactly the future that would have happened and Steve would have never known to not be content with it. But Eddie did make it, and while Steve mourns the future he could have had, he knows it's not the one he's going to choose in the end.

Even though Steve knows exactly what will happen when he allows himself to face the ever-mounting tension between the three of them, it's scary to take that plunge.

Everything about Steve's world up until Robin has told him that what he's going to choose will damn him forever, and even if he's never put much stock into God and the church, he knows that the future in front of them will never be easy. There's a part of him that wants to take the easy way out. He's never been attracted to a man before Eddie, never had to imagine himself loving someone discreetly, and the thought of it makes his heart hurt prematurely. It would be simpler, he knows, to choose the path most taken.

But Steve has always thought more with his heart than his brain, and he knows that after everything they've been through, after all the time they've spent healing together and growing as one that he could never choose anyone but Eddie.

The time is coming for him to make his final decision, he can feel it, but for now he'll let them sit in this liminal space a little longer.

#steddie #stranger things #dreamer speaks #fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckly #this one is a little different #but it's been floating around my head for a while #lmk what you think!#Edit: 12/22 for spelling and gramatical errors

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lorarri · 9 months ago

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★ . . . 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄 , 𝐙𝐆𝟐𝟒

summary , a fashion icon is drawn out of writing retirement by an equally iconic 8 time world champion which leads to love blossoming rather quickly

pairing , fashion editor! zhou guanyu x fem! f1 driver! reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | sol’s masterlist | f1 masterlist

vouge

liked by yourinstagram zhouguanyu24 199,370,936 others

vouge The wait is over: introducing zhouguanyu24 first return to writing in 6 years in this issue of Vogue. Through tabloid headlines, struggles of inequality and a drive to prove herself, the story of yourinstagram is a triumph, in the world of motorsports which the protagonist has flourished by winning 8 world drivers championships and has allowed herself to grow creatively and expand beyond the world of Formula One. As the F1 driver, singer, actor, fashion designer, creative, and philanthropist considers her next moves – a new album, movie and the hope of a 9th wdc among them – she tells Vogue’s new head of editorial content #zhouguanyu what living her truth means now in the April 2024 issue. Click the link in bio to read the interview, and see the story in full in the new issue, on news stands Tuesday 19 March.

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user very normal abt this. very.

user YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

user MOTHER ?????

user SLAYED THE HOUSE DOWN

user ate soooooo hard

user THIS ALBUM IS ABT TO BE 🔥🔥

user UHM DEVOURED???

user mhm. mhm. now that’s what i’m talking about.

user someone on twitter said thank god for ur parents, I too, say thank god for them.

user my mother everyone.

user fell to my fucking knees.

user this is my religion, amen. 🙏🏻

user what god do i have to pray to 🧎🏽‍♀️

user BRO.

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yourinstagram . 3hrs ago

seen by lewishamilton charles_leclerc 98,273,472 others

liked by yourinstagram lewishamilton 78,398,479 others

f1 a fashion legend and a new wag has graced us for the weekend brining iconic fit's too

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user how did this guy get one chance miss Y/N

user 😩😩😩

user fell to my fucking knees.

user this is my religion, amen. 🙏🏻

user HOOOOOLYYYYYYYY

user the new wag is pulling out all the stops huh

user it couple in the paddock

user him and Y/N make such an iconic couple

user ate.

user slayed the house down boots

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chaoticallyfluffy · 8 months ago

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"stop calling me dad!" seems interesting.... whats it about?

When Billy shares his powers with his sibling he keeps half of his power and splits the other half five ways between the others. This includes his age transforming ability, so they each only get about 4-5 years older. They’re all slightly enhanced but get their own blessings from one god in the SHAZAM acronym and They’re about a fifth as powerful as Marvel but they become stronger when they learn to use their specialties, then they’re about equals.

When they finally get a hang of their powers, they start doing heroic things publicly, starting with freddy. The league sees a child with marvels costume in blue and are like… Mini Marvel?? Is that his child??? The rumour is basically confirmed when yet another child appears who looks almost exactly like Marvel but younger and female who call Freddy “Marvel junior” (Freddy is a few months older than Marvel but they came up with that name before they came up with leitennent and it stuck) and they tease eachother like siblings so clearly they’re both Marvels kids! What the hell!

The kids hear about it before Marvel is able to deny the rumours so they latch onto it and refuse to let go. They call Captain Marvel their father at every possible opportunity, insisting that he raised every single one of them and calling him dad whenever possible just to see Billys horror.

“It’s a good cover!” The kids insist, but Billy knows from the evil glint in their eyes that it’s all a scheme to make him lose his mind in front of the league and he refuses to let them win. It’s really hard to keep up with all the lies, especially when he hates lying. it’s incredibly hard to half truth his way out of this. Billy is going to get gray hairs at twelve years old at this rate!

More and more children start appearing, each more insistent about their fathers fatherhood than the last, and the Justice League is baffled.

The whole fic is the children coming up with crazy lies about their wild childhoods and Marvels absurd parenting style while trying to cause as much chaos and confusion as humanly (and inhumanly) possible while Marvel has a mental breakdown in the corner.

#billy batson #shazam #dc #dc captain marvel #justice league #fanfic #dcu #fanfiction #ask game #Shazamily #Mary Batson #Freddy freeman #My writing

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paperbackpanic · 2 years ago

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Game night with the pastas

🎯 This is a way to keep harmony in the mansion and prevent that hell gets there. It's like a purge day, they can do (almost) everything that they desire in this one game night as long as they behave before and after

🎯 there'll be all kinds of games you can imagine, from Mario kart to black jack to monopoly. And all of the pastas will participate in at least 2 of them

🎯 Everyone knows Ben is the king of Mario kart but, surprisingly enough, Sally is as good as if not a little bit better than him. Maybe is because everyone takes easy on her or maybe is because she's that good.

🎯 Once in a blue moon, the pastas will convince Slender to join them in the game night. When he does he absolutely SMASHES everyone in almost all games, centuries of life (and maybe his mind reading power) made him a god in games. The only ones that he doesn't win are the electronic ones but "is just because I can't play them" in his words ((the truth is that he hasn't figured out how to even grab the controller))

🎯 Surprise to some, Jeff sucks in almost every game except Mario kart and black jack

🎯 They WILL play cards against humanity in every game night. Jane, Nina and Kate are the ones that win the most although everyone has their fair share of wins

🎯 They used to make money bets in various games but it would result in almost all of them cheating and in absolute caos. Money bets are now banned for good

🎯 Truth or dare is a must for them and everyone is forced to play.

🎯 The child pastas will participate in the beginning of the game night, it'll be significantly easier and family friendlier when they're there but as soon as they go to sleep that's when the real show begins

🎯 One time (after the childs are in bed) they played a strip game. Masky was the only one fully clothed after it ends, although he didn't cheat everyone secretly thinks he did.

🎯 Blood painter and LJ are kings in "guess who" with 3 or less clues they can already get it right

🎯 They always play Uno to end the night, is quick and fun. They'll have quirky rules like the "7 no talk", "9 slap the pile" and "0 switches", combining +2s with +4s is allowed and stacking them is also allowed. Due to the huge number of players they'll combine 3 or 4 decks Wich results in an significant increase of special cards which equals more caos

🎯 They have almost all the board and videogames known to man is insane

🎯 By the children request, they one time played hide and seek in the woods. It took almost all night for it to end

🎯 Toby smashes everyone in poker, I'll not elaborate

🎯 there's always alcohol, all kinds. wich if you stop to think isn't a very good idea. Mentally unstable people some of them taking heavy medication, competitive games and alcohol aren't exactly a good mix but who cares right?

🎯 MUSIC!! They have a collective playlist that lasts AT THE VERY LEAST 13 hours. They put it on random every game night. It goes from children music, to funk to rock and heavy metal to classical to pop. Is super chaotic

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howlingday · 5 months ago

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(demi-arkos au) Pyrrha Nikos is the daughter of Athena, Athena the goddess.

she's a demi-god and has never met an equal in all her time as champion of minstral, not even the more experienced huntsmen can match her.

which is why she's so shocked when there happens to be another demi-god at Beacon. a son of aphrodite! She thought only her mother had been brought to remnant through magic, but there's another?

a story in which jaune doesn't know about being a demi-god of love and beauty and Pyrrha is going to be, like, so normal about that.

(Pyrrha gets natural skill at strategy and weapon use. jaune's power is being beautiful, and later on, learning to harness the literal power of love to do what his semblance does. both of them are super durable, super strong, super nimble and have combat ADHD (think Percy Jackson rules) plus their aura)

To say Pyrrha wasn't like other girls isn't intentionally conceited. She was a child born of two women, one of whom was a god from another world! Or, at least, that's how it was explained to her. Someway, somehow, the goddess of wisdom and tactical military combat, Athena, had her influence drift into the realm of Remnant. Herein, she began to spread this influence to great inventors of their world, mostly residing in Atlas and growing it into the booming superpower it is today.

Though Atlas was where Athena's influence was strongest, it wasn't exactly home to her. No, her home was closer to the sea, in a quaint little city south of the Solitas mainland. It was here, in the city of Argus, that she fell in love with the brilliant mind of Carnelia Nikos. She'd met many a mind in her travels of this new world, but it was only the beautiful intellect of Carnelia who caught her attention. They'd met the way many mortals did, with Carnelia selling wares and making a good argument for making a purchase, which Athena did. On one condition.

Following this one condition, Athena and Carnelia went on many dates. To the library, to the museum, and eventually to the truth of the matter; that Athena was a god not among this world. Carnelia was surprised to learn this, and as hard as it was to believe, she accepted it as the truth. She'd heard tales of the Brother Gods abandoning Remnant, among other gods who drifted in and out in the centuries past. Athena then asked if Carnelia wanted anything in return for learning this earth-shattering knowledge, perhaps to ease her fears or to cement the goddess' words as fact with no room for doubt.

"There is one thing..." Carnelia said, her eyes wandering across the street to the park. A park filled with happy families of mothers, fathers, and, of course, children. Athena smiled, as this was in her power.

--------------------------------------------------

Pyrrha Nikos grew up as a child without equal. She ran miles longer than adults without semblances. She bested any combatant who challenged here, even veteran huntsmen and huntresses. But the most surprising trait of all was that Pyrrha Nikos was humble.

"Oh, no, I'm nobody special." Pyrrha said in an interview. "I'm sure anyone could best me if they kept training and then gave it their all in the fight."

Some would call this a humble brag while others would call it a challenge to everyone she has and ever will fight. To Pyrrha, though, it was more of a hope that she couldn't help but voice. The only other people who could hear it from her were her mothers. Athena would later warn and scold Pyrrha that doubt was an insidious thing that would only bring her downfall, as she had seen it so many times before.

Pyrrha, though try as she might, could not shake the doubt away. She couldn't remove the hope she held in her heart for a defeat any more than her mother could remove her own divinity. So, with shaky breath, she would continue to fight in her tournaments and keep winning. And winning. And winning.

Until...

--------------------------------------------------

"Ugh... I hate flying..." Jaune groaned as he stepped off the bullhead. He then carefully vomited the remainder of his brunch meal from before taking flight in the abominable flying machine. Apparently, he had more to spew outside as well as in. Looking out to Beacon, though, his discomfort became only memories. "Wow..."

A towering... tower in the middle of the floating island. He watched as students passed carrying weapons on different shapes and sizes. It was like something you'd read in a fairy tale. Or, at the very least, a high-end young adult urban fantasy series. He lowered his glasses to get a better look...

"Oh my gosh, look at him~!" Jaune shoved his sunglasses up into his face, making himself wince in pain, before tugging his hoodie down further than it was already set on his head. "Yang, he's got a flame katana~!"

Jaune let out a sigh but kept his guard up. The last thing he wanted was to have another incident like back home. He was already tired from the 'harem wars' the neighborhood girls waged when he'd lose his disguise. Thankfully his sisters could beat back anyone and everyone who tried to get too close to him, but they weren't here now. Jaune was all alone, and the sound of a girl shrieking was enough to put him on edge.

See, Jaune has something his mother referred to as a 'glamour'. To make an accurate analogy, he drew people in like a flame draws in a moth. The only inaccuracy in this statement was that the moths would die out quickly. People didn't. People got hurt and they suffered and they'd bring ruin to each other just to get a glimpse at him.

BOOM!

Kind of like that, yeah. Jaune ran to where the explosion happened, finding two girls running away, one with snow white hair and the other with a black bow atop her head. Meanwhile, in the crater below, there was a girl covered in soot and wearing a black and red outfit. Not one to leave somebody in danger, he reached a hand out to help her.

"Uh, hey... I'm Jaune."

#rwby #rwby au #demi arkos au #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #greek pantheon #athena #aphrodite #ruby rose #demi arkos

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nekohime19 · 5 months ago

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Heart behind the lie # 1 : Wounded beast

Let's go, I'm going to repost all chapters of this fic on Tumblr. It's gonna be a ride.

For those who don't know the fic, it's about Wukong becoming feral after LBD possession and Macaque having to take care of him even if he's at first unwilling.

TW : blood and injuries

There was a time, long ago, when he was feared. A time when he was the enemy hiding in the shadows, the killer capable of roaming every nook and cranny of this earth. Capable of hearing the deepest secrets of gods and demons alike, and brought them to his King's feet, whispering long forgotten truth in his golden ears.

A time when the sun still loved him enough to share its warmth with him, to give purpose to every pump of blood flowing through his veins. He had been naive then, too young to see beyond what was given, beyond the kind smiles thrown his way. Satisfied to be nothing more than the shadow of a fool, the silhouette of a King not deserving of his throne.

He wondered if the men that feared him would still be struck by terror if they saw him again. Chained and battered, a mere puppet at the service of a witch fooling herself with dreams forever unachievable. Would they fear him, or would they pity him, seeing him as what he truly was, and perhaps what he always had been : a broken fool.

When he crawled out of his grave, digging through layers of piled dirt with broken claws, he promised to never let himself fall for kindness again. He picked his shattered heart, giving it as much tenderness as he could, and stuffed it in his chest. He appeased his crying, bleeding heart with whispers of vengeance, and an oath to never trust again. It didn't soothe the pain tearing him apart, it didn't soothe the memory of him. It only gave his heart a reason to beat, and not die pitifully seconds after his rebirth, if you could call this wretched life a rebirth.

He broke this promise when the kid asked him to be a warrior. All his will, his oath of vengeance, shattered before a trusting gaze.

He fell for kindness, again. Maybe he was doomed to never learn, to never understand that trust was a lie, trust gave to him, at least. He was the shadows, the one you should never trust, the one you always betrayed.

He betrayed his own heart, and took the hands of a child as naive as he once had been. Repeating, again and again, like a dog chained to a never ending circle, the same mistakes. Do not follow after the hero, this should be simple enough. Their golden steps were not made for you, you were not made for the light. But every oath, every promise, meant nothing in the face of his own weak heart. Hope was unkillable, he learnt, at least within himself. He couldn't help but fall for their tricks, for their soft eyes and their blinding kindness, for the hope of it being true.

And there he was, fighting the great sage equal to heaven, the one he once followed willingly, and losing against him.

It was bitter, to realize your own weakness, what you had become after eons of being a ghost. The Diyu shattered him, and the Bone Demon didn't take the time to collect all the pieces of his broken soul. His strength was a mere illusion, a trick he conjured up to fool the strong, a shadow of what he had once possessed.

He was an illusionist, a great pretender.

The only thing keeping him alive was his instinct, the sensations he forged in the midst of battle. Macaque had one been a warrior, his body, even ruined, remembered those times. He evaded the fists of the possessed King, wincing everytime death grazed him. He didn't need to win, he wasn't sure he could anyway, he only had to gain time. Enough for the kid to retrieve his weapon, and bring the King to his senses.

Because he was the only one capable of doing it, wasn't he? Sun Wukong made him bleed without any speck of remorse, his grunts and cries were nothing to him, but a mere word of the kid, a human he knew only for a few months, was enough to break the witch's hold over his mind.

He buried the thought before he could indulge it, envy wasn't something he should feel, especially for his killer's love. This was nothing but the echo of a long gone past. He was only surprised by Sun Wukong's quick fondness, nothing more. It had to be nothing more if he wanted to preserve his sanity, especially in the midst of a fight.

Macaque rolled around, evading each of the sage attacks. He ran, claws ratting on the floor, ears erect, capturing each sound echoing nearby. His heart was beating against his skin, a traitorous thing that overflowed with fear.

The King grabbed his tail and threw him around. Macaque crashed on sharp rocks, breath knocked out of his lungs. One tip pierced his skin, burying itself in blood and flesh, tearing his bones apart. Macaque slapped his hands on his mouth, smothering his cries, killing them before they could pass his bruised lips. He needed to get up. No matter the pain. He didn't have the time to let the suffering fester and poison his mind.

The ebony monkey tried to slip in the shadows, in safety, but he didn't have enough magic for that anymore. The shadows melted under his claws, disappearing, forever out of reach. If he had more time, he would worry about this, after all his whole existence depended on his magic, life wasn't flowing in his veins anymore, magic was. But Macaque couldn't worry about this, not when the sage was running towards him on all four with fiery eyes and claws coated in his blood.

The ebony monkey wheezed, blood dripping on his lips, and scrambled to rise. Death was approaching, he could feel it, he lived through it one time. And like the first time Diyu claimed him, the one putting him underground was a being coated in gold with eyes once familiar, and cared for.

But Macaque didn't want to die, not again. Perhaps, his body remembered the torture it endured in the Diyu and was scared to live through it again, it acted on its own, gathering every last speck of strength he possessed and punching the King. His knuckles crashed upon golden skin, claws piercing pale blue eyes, and his last drop of magic pushed the sage away.

Sun Wukong crashed a few meters away, before a sharp cliff. Macaque felt nauseous, without magic his body crumbled on itself, each beat of his heart painful enough to make him cry. He heard the sage groan, an animalistic cry piercing through the air. That wasn't normal, the sage never spoke while possessed by the witch, voice frozen by her hold.

The macaque watched, still, the sage slowly rising to his feet. He moved strangely, arms and legs trembling, unable of holding his weight. He fell, and fell, struggling to stand up, like a puppet with cut strings, trying to walk on his own for the first time. Sun Wukong walked on all four, moving carefully, sniffing his surroundings, limbs still trembling.

Macaque tried to rise once again, but his legs failed him, and he stumbled on the ground. The sage turned towards him, ears erect, and face still marred by his claws, long glittering red slashes piercing his eyes. Sun Wukong hissed, fur rising, fangs out. He looked like a beast, perhaps he was in this moment.

"You're trying a new thing ?" Mocked the macaque, trying to speak with the witch, to make sense of this situation. But silence remained.

The sage only hissed louder, backing away slowly, like Macaque was the one to be feared, like the sage was the one who needed to escape.

" Is this a mind game ? You think I'll fall for that !" Sneared the ebony monkey, but like before, nothing answered him. If he could, Macaque would use his ears and try to listen for the whereabouts of the witch, but he didn't have enough strength to do so, and the only thing he heard was the howling winds, his own heart and the sage hisses.

Sun Wukong kept backing away, slowly approaching the edge of the cliff.

"You're gonna fall." Hissed the ebony monkey, but it was like the sage couldn't hear him, couldn't even understand him.

The sage looked around, groaning, like something was trying to attack him, a ghost only he could saw. Macaque could see his eyes, flickering between blue, gold and red, a battle was taking place in those irises, perhaps as violent as this one. The King cried, his own claws piercing his heads, blood flowed in his russet fur. He backed away, and fell out of the cliff, a frail, scared chirp stumbling out of his lips.

Macaque ran. He ignored the ache in his body, and ran towards the cliff, pushed by an instinct he thought he buried long ago. He ran, and jumped after the King, falling with him in the howling winds. There were a number of things he could blame for this foolish act. The pain that rendered him mad. The kid and his eyes full of trust he didn't want to shatter. The weird state of the King, and the need to defeat the witch. But in the end, he knew this act was nothing but the last echo of his feelings for the sage, the instinct of a shadow wanting to protect the one giving him respite.

The sage was curled up like a newborn, falling without even trying to call upon his cloud, or any other powers that could save him from pain. The macaque caught him rather easily, and held him closer, pushing him in his bloody chest. Sun Wukong battled him, perhaps not wanting to be saved by his nemesis, a fitting prettiness for a being as prideful as the great sage.

"Stop moving !" Growled the ebony monkey, and the sage instantly calmed down, looking at him with round eyes, like he didn't expect to be caught by him of all people.

Macaque lost himself in ruby eyes, savage and untamed, rivers of blood as gorgeous as the dawning sky. The sage chirped, a questioning, faint sound, lost in the winds. He chirped back, pushed by his most shameful instincts, a sound that was meant to be reassuring, but sounded like a dying dove. Sun Wukong seemed to appreciate his chirp nonetheless, he curled around his chest, golden tail tying itself on his bony hips.

Macaque took most of the fall, he crashed upon the earth, his nemesis cradled in his arms like a mother would hide his infant from pain. He groaned, bones shattering on impact, flesh torn, fur dripping with warm red. He sullied the golden bundle cuddled on his chest, blood spoiling perfect locks, locks cherished by the sun itself. Why did he go after the sage ? Sun Wukong had enough immortality to feed armies of man, while he was a walking corpse latching on life like a flea would latch on a dog.

Why was he still following after his killer ?

Macaque knew the pain was making him delirious, at least that was the only explanation he could muster, because Sun Wukong would never look at him with such worry, not anymore. He was bleeding out, and mayhaps this was an illusion his dying mind conjured up, something to appease his pain.

He is going to die in the arms of this man, again. But maybe dying was kinder than living in shame, weak and incapable of killing the one that took everything from him.

Macaque closed his eyes, tiredness gnawing at his shattered bones. His ears flickered, bothered by frantic chirps, and worried coos.

"Shut up." Muttered the ebony monkey, but whoever made those sounds didn't listen, and only cried louder.

Warmth fell upon him, a fur he didn't feel since centuries, a scent he didn't smell since before his downfall. He let those pitiful illusions embrace him, and lost himself, letting his mind fall in the darkest of slumber.

Memories came to him.

Flashes of another life, of another him, someone so white, so full of foolish hope, naive to the bone.

"Isn't it perfect !" Laughed the King sitting on his side. A being made of gold, with eyes full of stars, and smile full of white fangs.

"What ? The cliff ? You saw it hundred of times." He said, his voice smooth, flowing serenely like the course of a river, holding nor malice, nor hatred.

"Come on, Liu'er, you're always so grumpy." Groaned the golden monkey, he rolled his eyes and gestured to the cliff, like what he was trying to say was obvious, etched on nature itself.

"I don't see it." Snorted the macaque, before him was only a cliff, a sky, a sea, he didn't understand what was beautiful in such normal views. What could catch the eye of his King.

"You're serious? Liu'er, it beautiful !" Whined the King, he latched to him, golden fur merging with white locks.

Macaque shuddered, embraced by warmth, a novelty for a shadow as cold as him. He turned towards the King and felt his heart leap out of his chest. Sun Wukong was beautiful, lightened by the clear light of eternal summer, eyes struck by the sea blue, fur wet with sunlight.

"Beautiful." Whispered the macaque, bewitched by the golden being at his side.

"So now you understand what I'm saying ?" Chuckled the golden monkey, his own eyes lost in the sea before them.

He never answered, throat strangled with unsaid words, a fondness he would hide forever.

But Shihou didn't exist anymore, devoured by another, by the great sage.

Macaque woke up frantically, nerves alight, and skin burned by sweat and blood. Everything was a blur, a blend of shapes and colors, of echos and cracks. He stayed a long time in this state, torn between blurriness and clearness. He was in something soft, perhaps clean sheets, and this alone made him question his sanity. Was this a dream ? Because he knew for a fact he didn't touch a sheet since before his death.

At last, blurriness began to fade away, allowing him to see in what kind of place he landed. Did they threw his corpse on a street, atop the waist of a bedding shop ? Macaque was quite surprised to see a room, a white, lavish room, ornated with dragons. He was on a bed, bandaged from top to bottom, body aching everywhere. He couldn't move, each of his nerves was frozen by pain, so he simply stayed still, eyes glued to the white ceiling.

After a bit, someone entered the room, a maid or something ressembling a servant, with clothes sewn with dragons, seemingly a recurring theme in this place. The maid looked at him with round eyes, before darting outside like a frightened deer. Huh, he didn't thought he looked that ugly, this hurts his self-esteem a little. However, he couldn't stay awake until the master, or mistress, of this place deigned to show themself, he succombed to slumber, again.

The second time he woke up, he was struck by the worst headache on earth, surely even drunken teenager didn't woke up with this sort of pain. He groaned, feeling like his whole skull ached, and rolled in the sheet. His slight movement was meet with more pain, so he decided to simply curl on himself, and let whoever put him here do whatever they saw fit. He wasn’t in any state to fight, anyway.

"Don't move, you have several broken bones." The voice was soft, a light whisper, full of warmth. He knew this voice, he turned, painfully, towards the one sitting on his bedside and met the strained smile of the kid.

"Hey kiddo, you're not dead." He sounded like a sick seagull, but at least he could speak.

"No, we won."

He thought victory would taste better, better than pain, aches and tiredness at least.

"Hm, where am I ?" Asked the macaque.

"In Mei's place, we tried the hospital but they didn't keep you for long, they don't deal with mistyc stuff, apparently." Huffed the boy, like he was upset on his behalf, which was a novelty.

"I'm too tough for them." Chuckled the macaque, he quickly regreted it, his stomach didn't like to be shaken, it seemed. The boy stood up, hands hovering above him, but never touching, like he was afraid of shattering him.

"Take it easy. You've been asleep for a long time."

"How long ?"

"One week."

"Huh, I've been asleep longer."But the boy didn't get his death joke, maybe he shouldn't joke about it, whatever, this wasn't important. Macaque noticed bandages on the boy's arms. "The Bone Demon got you ?" MK furrowed his eyebrows, lost, before understanding what he meant.

"Oh no, no, she's gone, for good."

"Great." He would never admit the relief washing over him at those words, the sheer joy of no longer being chained by another.

"I, huh, I got those from someone else."

"Never thought Wukong would let anyone do that." Sneared the ebony monkey, but surprisingly enough the boy didn't jump on his mentor defense. He only stood here, eyes downcast, sadness etched on his face. "Where's your mentor, anyway ? I doubt he would like you being with me."

"He's… elsewhere." Answered the kid, this was suspicious, but Macaque didn't want to dwell on Wukong whereabouts, the sage coud take care of himself.

"Okay." And the discussion ended here, the kid rose after a bit, and left him with a faint “take care, I'll come back”.

Macaque only nodded, wondering when they would throw him out now that he was awake. His state was strange, he shouldn't be able to function properly after loosing so much magic, but now that he focused on this, he could feel something in him, something foreign.

There was magic flowing in his veins, but it wasn't his. Something more celestial, warm, almost scorching. Whathever it was, it feeded his soul and his skin, forcing life to flow again. It was only a question of time before he devoured every ounce of this foreign magic though. He knew well that he didn't have enough strength to repleat himself naturally, and that this foreign source was too faint to keep him in the mortal plane forever.

Right now, he was like a bottomless pit, every inch of magic would be devoured to keep him stable, and now that the witch that regularly fed him was long gone, he was destined to fade away.

To die, a second time.

It was only a matter of when. Would he die the day after tomorrow, still incapable of leaving those pitiful sheets, or would he die inside the wreck he called a dojo, after weeks of suffering.

Whatever he chose to do, his future ended in pain.

When the boy came back, Macaque didn't feel like trying. He did nevertheless, because he was weak at heart, and he didn't want to disappoint the first person to ever show him a speck of kindness after eons of solitude. His own weakness disgusted him, but he was too weary for wearing the spiteful mask he created. He tried to walk, tried to stretch, and after days of slow recovering, and patient exercising, he was able to stumble through corridors without any help.

"Do you hate Monkey King ?" Asked the boy, one day, while they did umpteith exercises.

"Yes, I do." Because what else was he supposed to answer, the thing he felt for Wukong was so bitter, it could only be hatred.

"… But would you do me a favor ?" This was tricky, he didn't owe anything, in the proper way, but he was recovering inside the dragon girl house. And she was at the boy beck and call.

"What favor ?"

"Would you take care of him ?"

"Wukong is capable of taking care of himself, besides I don't think he wants my help."

"It's complicated." Sighed the boy, arms littered with more bandages. "Maybe it's better to show you."

Macaque followed after the boy, only because he wanted to see Wukong at he's lowest and nothing more. They walked in long, lavish corridors, and finally reached something oddly ressembling dungeons, but more comfortable than the old staves he was accustomed to. The kid hesitated before a door, a heavy, chained door, marred with claws mark. He finally opened it, and they entered a large room, completely wrecked.

The bed was teared open, blankets thrown on the floor like battered corpses, what must have been a dresser was broken beyond repair, shards of mirrors littered the floor, and the walls were clawed with hatred.

"Monkey King ?" Whispered the kid, he walked cautiously inside the hornet's nest, and knealed before the bed. "Are you there ?" The boy tried to reach beneath the bed, but the moment his hand extended, sharp claws teared his skin open.

MK yelped and stumbled back, he didn't look surprised, only pained and disappointed. Holding his bleeding arms with eyes full of uncried tears.

"What is this ?" Asked the macaque with a tight voice.

"It's Monkey King."

"You're kidding ? This is not-"

"We found him like this, according to Red Son the possession wrecked his mind."

"So what, he's crazy now ?" Snorted the ebony monkey.

"He's scared. He didn't want to part from you when we found the both of you. But you needed help so we… "

"You don't need to finish this." Sighed the ebony monkey, not liking the waver in the boy's voice. "What do you want from me ?"

"Could you at least try to help him, please." Pleaded the kid.

"… I promise nothing, kiddo."

"It's alright, as long as you try."

Macaque knealed before the bed, and took a look beneath it. Two fiery eyes watched him from the darkness, Sun Wukong was curled up against the wall, tail lashing and ears pined back. Macaque gulped, and tried to extend his arm, the sage hissed, fangs glinting in the dim light. But then, the beast sniffed, snout furrowing furiously. And cautiously, like a wounded tiger, Sun Wukong crawled towards him. He growled when the ebony monkey dared to move, and as such Macaque stood perfectly still.

Sun Wukong sniffed his hand, snout brushing against his open palm. His eyes extended, turning almost dark, and he cooed curiously. Macaque answered with a weak chirp, something rough and quick. Sun Wukong chirped back, a bell-like sound echoing in the silence. Then, the great sage crawled out of the bed and circled him, sniffing him, and eyeing him suspiciously. Once satisfied, the beast sat on his lap, and curled on himself.

Macaque gulped, looking at the beast curled in his lap with fear, hatred and pity.

This smelled like trouble.

#shadowpeach #lego monkie kid #lmk #shadowpeach fanfic #sun wukong #six eared macaque #lmk macaque #lmk shadowpeach #We're going for a ride this one is long #Heart behind the lie

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petals2fish · 1 month ago

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The Prophet's Fable

Summary: Lily Evans thought—no, convinced herself—that she could handle her visions. That she could somehow rewrite their fate like it was a particularly dramatic diary entry, not a prophet’s fable. But standing here now, with James Potter's scream still echoing in her ears like the world’s worst song, she realized how stupid she’d been. Every moment, every choice, every oh-so-smart plan of hers had led to this. She really was the worst seer on Earth.

Oh, she knew what she’d done. Of course, she knew. It wasn’t like this was some big mystery. No, the second his scream ripped through the house—so loud it practically rattled the floorboards of his parents' old cottage—she knew.

This was her fault.

The truth had been there the whole time, hovering like a hornet about to sting. But did she pay attention? No. Right from the start, she knew the price going in. She’d ignored the truth, shoved it aside, because facing it would mean admitting that everything—this family, this life, this desperate attempt to hold on to something that was never really hers—was just a sandcastle waiting for the tide to come in and sweep it all away.

Only this wasn’t the rising tide, this was a hurricane, and she was now in the eye of the storm. (READ ON A03)

And James? Good. Kind. Sweet , James. He was the worst of it. Her Achilles’ heel. She’d lived with deep fears the world would divide them, now here they were, their intertwined strings cut by Fate’s silver scissors. It felt like there was a gaping hole in her chest, like a part of her soul had died the second he’d died defending his family.

Their family.

She’d thought—no, convinced herself —that she could handle her visions. That she could somehow rewrite their fate like it was a particularly dramatic diary entry, not a prophet’s fable. But standing here now, with his scream still echoing in her ears like the world’s worst song, she realized how stupid she’d been. Every moment, every choice, every oh-so-smart plan of hers had led to this .

Her chest heaved.

Regret was a bitter pill, and she’d just swallowed the whole bottle.

If there was an afterlife—and she really hoped there wasn’t—would he forgive her? Would James Potter, with all his lovely charm and sunshiney grin, look at her and see her for who she really was? Not the brave, noble heroine she’d pretended to be, but the deeply flawed, occasionally selfish Seer that she actually was? Or would he hate her? Blame her for what she’d done—for all the moments she’d held on too tightly, tried too hard, and led them straight into this disaster?

She had been a naive, hopeful dreamer, foolish enough to believe they could conquer the world together—and win. Spoiler: they couldn’t. The world was merciless, and a magical Secret Keeper wasn’t enough to rewrite the fate she’d long feared. Now, standing there, her sobs clawing their way out of her throat, she knew it. This was the moment she had dreaded all along.

It felt like déjà vu, every detail hauntingly familiar. She knew what was coming. She’d seen it before—once, twice, a hundred times—in those relentless dreams she’d desperately tried to dismiss as illusions. James’ agonized screams. Harry’s terrified cries. The thud of bodies hitting the cottage floor.

And the light. The piercing, unforgiving green light. God, she remembered every single flash.

She collapsed to her knees in front of the crib, her fingers curling around the spindles like they could somehow save her. The door behind her was closed, but it might as well have been wide open. Nothing could stop what was coming. She’d always known it would end like this. Death didn’t scare her—she’d been living with its shadow for ages.

But James. Her anchor. Her equal. Her everything. The one person who made this ridiculous, unfair world bearable. And now he was gone, and she was…what? A two-minute widow in a story that she still didn’t know the ending of.

She’d been Pandora, opening that stupid box, and James had been everything inside it—hope, chaos, possibility. She’d kissed him at fifteen and thought she’d found forever. Instead, she’d unleashed a monster they’d never outrun. And now it was here, standing in the room with her, with their son, with the prophecy she’d tried so hard to undo.

“Please,” she whispered on her knees.

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily fic #jily fanfiction #jple #seer!Lily

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thoughtsbysofi · 3 days ago

Text

The Truth About Power and the Maneater Myth

When the maneater gets eaten by men

I think we’ve all fantasized about her at some point. The maneater: wild, confident, unapologetic. She’s the woman who seems untouchable, the one with beauty so sharp it’s almost dangerous. She moves through life effortlessly, holding men—and the world—in the palm of her hand.

She’s been immortalized in songs, from Daryl Hall and John Oates’ iconic anthem to Nelly Furtado’s unforgettable beat. (Only God knows how many times I’ve danced to that one in front of the mirror, lip-syncing like I had the world at my feet too.) She represents something intoxicating: power, allure, freedom. Or so we’re told.

Over time, I’ve come to see cracks in the image we’ve painted of her, and they’re hard to look away from.

Her shine, that magnetic confidence, feels... muted. Almost as if the very force that made her so untouchable has been swallowed whole by the same system she’s supposed to rise above.

Here’s the thing about the maneater: her power has always been a performance. What we believed was control was always a false sense of empowerment—a game that looked like it was hers but was actually rigged from the start.

Think about her name. "Maneater." She’s defined by men before she’s even had a chance to define herself. Her power—her entire identity—is grounded in the very gaze she thought she had mastered. How far can she really distance herself from the male gaze when her existence revolves around it?

This was easier to ignore in the past, back when the maneater existed in songs, movies, or whispered stories. But now, in the age of social media, her shadow looms larger than ever. Platforms like TikTok are littered with guides on how to “become a maneater.” Entire accounts are dedicated to teaching women how to embody the aesthetic—what to wear, how to act, what to believe. There are even courses for sale promising to turn you into a siren-like figure who commands attention and leaves men in pieces.

But let’s be honest with ourselves. What’s behind all these trends? What’s at the heart of this obsession with being a maneater?

Fear.

Fear of being overlooked. Fear of not being enough. Fear of being powerless in a world that demands we center men in every aspect of our lives. And so, we create a persona—a character to play—because if we’re going to be consumed by this system, we might as well act like it’s on our terms.

Except it never is.

And here’s the truth: the maneater doesn’t exist. She never has.

The real woman behind the fantasy doesn’t care about men, let alone eating them alive. She’s not plotting or strategizing, and she definitely isn’t wasting her energy learning how to manipulate others for validation. In fact, the maneater isn’t devouring men—she’s too busy living her life, building something real, something meaningful, for herself.

So where did this idea even come from? Why are we still clinging to it?

Because it’s convenient. The idea of the maneater allows men to dismiss women they can’t control. “Oh, she’s just like that with everyone,” they say, as if their failure to win her affection isn’t personal. And for women, the maneater becomes a shield—something to hide behind when the vulnerability of simply being feels too much to bear.

But what would happen if we let go of the need to perform and focused on ourselves instead?

The women who are truly powerful aren’t trying to fit into a mold. They don’t need labels like “maneater” to justify their independence, their choices, their lives. They’re not chasing some aesthetic or performing for the male gaze. They’re simply existing—fully, authentically, and without apology.

Real power isn’t found in manipulation, control, or detachment. It’s not about who you can conquer or how many people fall at your feet. It’s about connection. It’s about seeing others—not as pawns or opponents, but as equals.

The true maneater isn’t eating anyone. She’s not interested in games, roles, or power plays. She knows who she is, and that’s enough.

Real strength, real wildness, isn’t about becoming her, someone for someone else—it’s about stepping away from the illusion, leaving the fantasy behind, and finding power in being unapologetically yourself.

Because the real power we’re looking for has nothing to do with men. It’s been in us all along.

-xoxo

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danielmolloystits · 17 days ago

Text

the best policy (armand/daniel) (1/1)

“You keep missing the prostate,” Armand comments flatly. He’s practically as still as a statue, moving only from the force of Daniel’s steady, measured thrusts. “With stunning consistency.” And, Christ, Daniel’s had about as much as he can take of the color commentary. Before he can think better of it, he grunts a harsh, “Shut up.” “Would you rather I lie to you, Daniel?” Armand asks sweetly, looking back at him over his shoulder. “I can do that if you’d like.” Daniel isn’t stupid enough not to realize that’s a trap. “So there is a floor, then.” His voice is still perfectly even as he plucks the thought from Daniel’s mind. “I was beginning to grow concerned.”

Rating: E Pairing: M/M, Armand/Daniel WC: ~1.5k

This morning, Armand and Daniel had another one of their legendary fights about nothing. Daniel doesn’t even really remember how it started, or who was mad at who, but he sure remembers how it ended: with him running an exasperated hand through his hair and yelling “God, I wish you could just be fucking honest with me!” at Armand.

Armand had frozen at that and, with a deadly sort of calm, asked, “Is that so?” Daniel had immediately tried to backtrack, but the damage was already done. Though the fight petered out after that, it was obvious that Armand was still thinking about the comment.

The thing is, Daniel meant it at the time and he would mean it if he said it now—the vampire lies as easily as he breathes and equally as unnecessarily. But he’s definitely regretting saying anything about it, because Armand has apparently taken it to heart and, as a result, has been gracing Daniel with his unfiltered thoughts and opinions ever since.

For example: “You intend to go out like that? Those jeans are frumpy and that t-shirt is covered in wrinkles.”

Or, “You’re burning your toast; you really are very incompetent at cooking.”

It’s fine. Daniel can take it, especially if it helps Armand get some of his lingering anger from the argument out of his system.

And it does seem to be helping somewhat, because when Daniel kisses Armand in the kitchen, he yields to his touch as though nothing contentious had ever happened. Taking his acquiescence as a sign of encouragement, Daniel shoves him up against the counter and cups his jaw in one hand, relishing the sensation of the vampire’s cool lips against his.

It’s nice—a reminder of why it’s worth it to stick through the bullshit. That is, until Armand ruins it.

“Your breath smells like stale beer,” he says moments after they break apart. “And you use too much tongue.”

“Um.” Daniel’s not really sure how to respond to that one. Admittedly, it is a little more hurtful than the comments about his clothes.

“What?” Armand asks, fluttering his lashes innocuously. “You wanted me to be more truthful with you, did you not?”

“I—” Daniel falters. “Yeah, baby. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiles beatifically. “I’ve grown bored of kissing you. I’m going to go watch the television.”

Daniel stares after him as he leaves, idly wondering whether it’s too late to beg for forgiveness.

Without turning around or breaking his stride, Armand replies with a simple “Yes.”

Armand’s crusade of honesty continues sporadically throughout the day, cropping up in little ways that are clearly designed to make Daniel insane.

Like, “It disgusts me that you leave the toilet seat up” lobbed casually at him after he uses the bathroom.

“You might want to cut back on the cocaine—the dehydration from the stimulants is causing premature wrinkling,” said right when Daniel is about to take a bump.

Or, his personal favorite: “Beloved, did you know that one of your testicles is oddly shaped?”

By the time they go to bed, Daniel has gotten pretty sick of it. It’s not like he can say anything, though, because then Armand will chock this whole gambit up as a win and go back to lying whenever he feels like it. So instead, he muscles through the abuse in silence, hoping to wait out the worst of Armand’s pettiness through attrition.

“Daniel,” Armand says once they’re under the covers, looking up at Daniel with his cigarette cherry eyes. “You’ve hardly touched me all day. At this rate, I’ll have to seek out a new lover to meet my needs.”

“Are you sure you want me to?” he asks, one eyebrow raised sarcastically. “I figured you’d say something if you did. You know, what with your new commitment to honesty.”

“I’m saying something now.”

“Alright,” Daniel says. “What would you like to do?”

Armand crawls into his lap, then, squirming like a restless animal—in this respect, at least, he is still the man that Daniel loves. Despite himself, he finds a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want you to fuck me.”

And wow, that wasn’t even insulting. His grin widens. “I can do that.”

“But be thorough about it this time, will you?” Armand adds, almost like an afterthought. “Don’t rush through it like you usually do.”

Ah. There it is. Daniel’s smile tightens. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before they’re both naked, until Armand is perched on his hands and knees on the mattress and Daniel is kneeling behind him, working him open with his fingers. He’s going as slowly as he can stand to, pausing to press open-mouthed kisses to the curve of Armand’s ass and occasionally nip gently at his thighs. He’s pulling out every trick in his arsenal to drive Armand wild; meanwhile, the vampire is doing a stunningly good job of not responding to any of it.

“I don’t want to exaggerate my pleasure,” he says, all faux-innocence. “That would be dishonest.”

“Wouldn’t want you to, babe,” Daniel mutters, scissoring his fingers and searching for something, anything, that will wring sound from his lover’s throat.

It’s a fruitless endeavor. After a while, Armand sighs wearily. “You might as well just put it in at this point, Daniel; I fear even I will manage to age in the time it takes you to do this correctly.”

The thing is, Daniel knows Armand is faking his indifference—his cock hangs heavy and leaking between his legs, pink smearing at the dark tip despite his commitment to performed apathy. For all he might be able to pretend not to feel anything, he can’t stop his body from giving him away.

That doesn’t make the whole enterprise any less frustrating, though.

Wordlessly, Daniel removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock, hoping that the stretch of it will be enough to force Armand to finally break.

No such luck.

And, Christ, he’s had about as much as he can take of the color commentary. Before he can think better of it, he grunts a harsh, “Shut up.”

He instantly wishes he hadn’t.

“Would you rather I lie to you, Daniel?” Armand asks sweetly, looking back at him over his shoulder. “I can do that if you’d like.”

Daniel isn’t stupid enough not to realize that’s a trap.

“So there is a floor, then.” His voice is still perfectly even as he plucks the thought from Daniel’s mind. “I was beginning to grow concerned.”

“I don’t want you to lie. After all, faking it in bed would be pathetic.” The pointedness of his tone is perhaps belied somewhat by his labored breathing. “I’d like to think you’re above that sort of thing.”

He adjusts his angle of attack again and is finally rewarded with the barest hint of an inhale. Armand cuts himself off quickly, but Daniel hears it regardless; he knows that he’s found what he’s looking for. He doubles down, working his hips against Armand’s ass in a punishing rhythm. The effect it has on Armand is immediate.

“You have no idea,” he says carefully, as though attempting to speak evenly around words that would prefer to be groans, “the lengths I am willing to go to please you.”

Yeah, whatever; Daniel can see his claws beginning to fist in the sheets.

“So considerate,” he murmurs. “You’re always so good for me baby, aren’t you?” It’s a cheap tactic, sure, but an effective one—Armand loves being told he’s doing a good job. “So perfect.”

The vampire makes a strangled noise at the praise that he attempts to cover with a cough.

“Uh-uh,” Daniel chastises, pulling Armand back by the waist and grinding into him slow and filthy. “None of that, now.”

This time, Armand doesn’t manage to swallow his whimper before it escapes him.

“Do you like that, babe?” he asks, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

“It’s,” Armand gasps, “serviceable.”

“Oh?” Daniel breathes. “Should I try another angle, then?”

“Don’t you dare.”

He laughs, hastening the speed of his thrusts. “Thought so.”

“Daniel,” Armand moans, full and throaty as he wraps a hand around himself. Apparently, he’s made his peace with his defeat, more focused now on chasing his climax. “Right there, fuck, right there.”

Daniel stays right there, hammering his hips into Armand’s with a relentless fervor until the vampire is writhing and crying out senseless little nothings.

When Armand comes—thick and pink and all over the duvet—he screams.

Later, as the two of them are lying in the afterglow, Armand looks up at Daniel and says, “I love you.”

It’s the most honest thing he’s said all day.

#interview with the vampire 2022 #amc iwtv #iwtv #devil's minion #devils minion #armandaniel #arman #iwtv armand #daniel molloy #armand de megacunt #armand de motherfucker #armand de uberbitch

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lightlycareless · 12 days ago

Note

This is random but the mc and Naoya remind me a lot of hades and persefone.

Hiii!!!!

I haven't been able to keep this ask out of my mind; at first I was like "How?" but after revisiting the myth it got me realizing that yeah, they do have striking similarities omg.

It got me writing a bit 🙈🙈🙈 though of course I took some (a lot) liberties so please don't quote me for accuracy hahaha. Still, I hope you enjoy it 🥺

warnings: naoya is an a_hole. he thinks with his head but you know, not the one on top of his shoulders. so there's sexual innuendos but not too explicit. also, I tried not naming the gods but I couldn't help myself with some, mainly those that just... idk, made sense for me lol.

Happy reading!!

You felt trapped.

Alone. Useless, without any real motivation or purpose.

Even when your duties are indisputable, your work equally important as the other gods as your mother often said, for the mortals and their livelihood depended on it, you still feel unfulfilled. Believing a simple replacement could easily do the same, ultimately providing no real worth to your presence.

And yet, no matter your stubbornness, your mother constantly refuted your claims. Whether by inundating you with doting, reassuring words, or forcing you to stay in the mortal realm, the place where you and your mother were venerated to do their work: tending the fields, guiding expectant mothers through childbirth, and furthermore, keeping everyone healthy, sustained.

“Our duties here are important, my daughter.” She would say when noticing the dark cloud of her insecurities make way to your mind once more. “No one can do what we can.”

No, of course not, you suppose.

But it didn’t mean that’s all there is to life.

Unfortunately, that is something you wouldn’t be able to find out on your own, forced to limit yourself to what one of your mother’s friends, the only true connection you had to the outside world, said.

“Can you believe they made two gods compete for the right to name a city?” Shoko, the goddess of witchcraft, crossroads, amongst many other things, says. “If I were a higher god, I wouldn’t go through those theatrics, I’d simply do it.”

“Who ended up winning?” you wonder, deeply curious.

“Inumaki, the city is now called Inuyama.”

You chuckle.

“I would’ve liked to see how that happened.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t like it out there, you know?” she’d go on. “Mortals can be very nasty when it comes to it. You’re much safer here, with your mom.”

“But…”

“Perhaps for your birthday.” Is all that she says, every year. As always. And just when you think you’re finally to see more of moral realm, something suddenly happens, and your back at home… again.

“What about other realms? There are other gods, surely I could…”

“Absolutely not.” Shoko interrupts. “You know how your mother feels about them. Where do you think mortals get their vicious nature from?”

“From the gods…” you repeat dutifully, just like you were taught since a child.

“But not us, of course. We’re the cool ones.” Shoko attempts to jest, and you follow along, kind of. Not that it mattered, you wouldn’t be able to discern such a fact either way.

The heavens, where most gods remained, were far from your reach just the same way it was for the mortals.

And the underworld… well, you weren’t allowed to pry on that matter, less stride into it, but truth to be told you weren’t too interested in it either; not when its entire existence was the anti-thesis of your own work.

And your freedom, though you wouldn’t know so until much later.

Naoya felt trapped.

Alone. Useless, without any real motivation or purpose.

Even when his duties are indisputable, his work equally important as the other gods, if not more, he still feels unfulfilled. Any other fool could perfectly work as a replacement, providing no real worth to his presence.

But such is the weight of being the sole god in charge of a whole realm; to take care of the dead sounded as tedious as one could imagine, so more than feeling inadequate, Naoya was growing tired of it.

When the other gods could have their fun, he… well, he was relegated to taking care of their mistakes. Cleaning up after their messes, he supposes. What happens after the party is over.

Naoya never asked for this job, but when the clown of his old man decided to suddenly retire and dump him with all his duties without prior warning, he didn’t have much of a choice.

And such, that is where he stood now.

However, it didn’t mean it was always like that—there were still opportunities that rose to the occasion, the same ones he’s quick to seize, such as the party invitation he got a few days ago: a reunion for gods to have in the mortal realm with no real purpose outside of having a good time. A yearly (officially, at least) endeavor.

“The mortal realm?” Naoya repeats—in the dominion of no other but the goddess of harvest. “Now, isn’t that curious?”

The stuck-up goddess that refused to mingle with any others, apparently too good to do so, opened the doors of her very own home to host their silly little party.

It only serves to prove that her prude demure was nothing less than an act; must be if she was still willing to beget a child with one of them. Not so proper now, is she?

A daughter everyone knew of but had yet to be seen from outside rumors and whispers. Though the way she kept her in absolute secrecy, one could even dare to say she spawned her herself through her own talents.

“Probably another snotty goddess, just like her mother.” Naoya eventually concludes, a secret that doesn’t weigh much on his decision to attend, but he won’t deny that uncovering their secrets was highly intriguing: a distant goddess like her is bound to have some. Many, in fact.

Perhaps if lucky enough, he’ll even be able to put a face on that wretched daughter of hers, and who knows? If she’s adequate enough, have some fun with her too. To spoil the little flower she’s oh, so fiercely protected from his kind, ought to get an interesting reaction from her.

And if not, he could always rely on the nymphs and mortal women that always seemed to find their way to him.

These were his absolute favorites. His go-to, if you please: just a few tricks and they’ll be on their knees ready to please him.

“Will you be attending, Naoya?”

One of his fellow brothers asks, a sly smirk on his face as he puts away the letter.

“Of course. I must—after all, I have the strange feeling that something good is to happen.”

Though the Fates have long decided so.

“I hate how he makes these decisions without consulting me beforehand. How he thinks he can just order me, in my own house, to do whatever he wants!” Your mother reproached as she ordered all the nymphs to make haste for the preparations of tonight’s party.

Apparently, the location for their yearly reunion is chosen through a random fashion, as the King of the god’s fairly dictated: she just had the misfortune of being selected this time around.

Ah, but the god’s antics are not ones she’s unfamiliar with, a part of her believing this was done so intentionally after the many years she managed to escape their vices.

She’s the only one that keeps to herself all the time, after all, making it hard to believe they were even in the same pantheon, but alas, your mother will do once more what she has done so countless times before: make the best of her circumstances, and navigate through their eccentric antics—all while protecting you.

“When will they arrive?” you ask, clearly excited to host a party (that isn’t your birthday) for the first time in your life. The possibilities that this entailed were endless. You’d be meeting other gods, and they’d be meeting you too! Oh, just what kind of stories of their greatness will they share? Surely far more interesting that what you could provide.

Unfortunately…

“Just before nightfall, but don’t worry my adorable little rose, you won’t even notice them because you’ll be safely guarded in your room.” She gladly proclaims, much to your shock and disappointment.

“But, mother—”

“Not another word, Y/N. My decision is final.”

As they always are.

Just like her ensuing regret, her feeble attempts to distract you from the clear solitude you are to experience—which stopped working once you became aware of your entrapment.

“Oh, but my sweet, precious honeysuckle, don’t be sad. You’ll be in the company of your good friends! I do not wish to spoil their efforts but, they’ve prepared all kinds of fun games for you to partake in; and if that wasn’t enough, I will also be preparing your favorite snacks, so you won’t feel left out of the celebration! Now, doesn’t that sound delightful?”

“Yes, mother…” If you were younger, perhaps. But your life had always been like this, so you had no real point of comparison.

“I’ve also set up your favorite blankets just in case my little apple runs cold, and of course, how could I forget, your plushies! Which I’ve just washed so they’d be extra fluffy.”

“Mother, I’m— I’m not a child anymore.”

“Oh, but you are to me. You’ll always be my little flower.” She smiles, cupping your face and kissing your cheeks. “Now, we still have a long day ahead of us, so how about you help me? While I go pick up more fruits for tonight, you head down to the fields near the village and tend to the mortals. They’ve been quite insistent, and I don’t think I’d be able to go another day listening to their incessant prayers! Think you can do that, pumpkin?”

“Of course, mother.”

“I knew you could.” She smiles, placing one last kiss on the top of your head before retreating, forcing you into your newest duty and envy towards the mortals: to have their prayers listened to if something you could only dream of, wondering if perhaps the life of a mortal was easier than that of a god.

It must be nice to have someone to seek help from, someone that cares to listen—but who ever listens to the gods? That’s not how nature works, never will.

Maybe it was time to finally give up on that dream of yours of knowing the outside world: what goes beyond the four, firm walls of your home.

If you only knew.

Per usual, Naoya arrives a few hours late for the party.

He never liked being punctual: be there too early and the mood is as dry as his kingdom, too late and all the good selections are almost done. Tainted. And he never liked being served leftovers.

Thus, the god of the underworld knew exactly when to arrive, though others weren’t too appreciative of his tactics.

“You should at least have the decency to greet the rest!” a god says, the same one that always seemed to have a bone to pick with him.

“Not like I haven’t seen them before.” Naoya dismisses them, uninterested in saluting the gods that barely acknowledged his own presence.

“Then the host as a bare minimum. You know how difficult she is to get along with.”

“Ah, is that why her home was selected to host this year’s reunion? With hopes she’ll soften up?” Naoya teases. “He doesn’t fool anyone; he did this to irk her. Or perhaps get a glimpse of her daughter? Either way, I cannot wait to see where that takes us—think she might try to suffocate us with vines just like she did last time?”

The god ultimately concedes to his words with laugh. In the end, no matter how almighty they thought themselves, they were nothing but creatures that sought their own pleasures: whether wreaking havoc amongst their ranks or serve themselves with the devotion of those beneath them.

Just like Naoya intended to do now, already setting his eyes on the first conquest of the: an “innocent” nymph who had been batting her eyes at him since he arrived.

A good start before moving onto mortals, Naoya thinks as he takes a cup from the nearby table, drinking the tasty wine he presumes to come from your mother’s meadows, before approaching her.

“Is there something you wish to tell me, little nymph?” He breathes, a sly smirk on his face as he watches her quiver—undoubtedly out of attraction. It’s so pathetic yet endearing. Naoya’s blood rushes down at the sight of her blatant passion.

“No, of course not, my lord.” She murmurs back, eyes shyly glancing up to him, before looking away when his gaze proved too much to take. She may act coy, but she knows what she’s doing—trying to reel him in. Were all spring nymphs like this, so wanton, or was it just her?

“Is that so?” Naoya adds. “Because you’ve been staring at me since I arrived.”

“I was simply… mesmerized by your greatness.” It’s more likely that his preceding reputation gave her sufficient knowledge on what buttons to push to earn his interest—but if that wasn’t the case, she had already won his favor through her charm. A beauty worthy of the virtues she serves.

“Care to show me what my greatness has inspired within you to provoke such act?”

“I cannot do so here.” She responds, taking the bait—or perhaps he was the one to fall in her trap? “It is unbefitting of a god like you.”

Not that it mattered if he was the one to ultimately win in the end.

“Take me where, then.”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay?” Mariya, the oldest and most loyal of your nymphs, ponders your dismissal. She, being the one you entrusted most of your thoughts with, was the most willing when it came to refuting your mother’s firm orders. As much as she could, anyways.

“No, it’s fine.” You insist, smiling. “I don’t feel like doing anything tonight, really.”

“We prepared all this for you.” Another, Hitomi, says. “Is there really not one thing you wish to do?”

You shake your head, she sighs.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no. Don’t be.” Hitomi frets. “I can only imagine how difficult this is to you.”

To have the possibility of meeting the world, and yet, forced into to your room… but this is how things always went on, right? Your safety was your mother’s utmost priority, her main purpose in life since she learned she was expecting you.

You ought to give up a losing fight after centuries under her protective watch.

At least you had their unbreakable friendship, which always strengthened your heart during your darkest moments.

“Go have fun.” You insist. “I’ll be ok; I’ll probably just head to sleep or something.”

“You know we can’t do that; your mother is going to kill us if she learns we’re not with you!” Haruko cries.

“We can stay at the meadows or even go to the nearby village; the gods won’t be there if the party is over here.” Mariya suggests. “Most of them, at least.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, then. Goodnight.” They say, bidding their farewells and retreating.

After getting ready to go to bed, you look out the window, taking in one last look at the god’s party; it may be far, but you could still hear the music, the cheers, the overall good time they seemed to be having. It simply reaffirmed your suspicions, you’ve never been to one, but you always imagined they were fun. They must be if they keep doing them.

You know it’s hopeless to wonder at this point, but you still play with the question if you’d ever get the chance to assist one. You didn’t even have to stay through its whole entirety, just getting a quick look around and call it a day. That’s all. You’d at least get the opportunity to say you’ve been to one!

Not that anyone’s counting.

“Maybe in a few centuries.” Is all that you say before heading to bed, ready to dive into the realm where all your deepest desires were real.

…

“I…lac…” you suddenly hear someone whisper, close enough to think it came from just outside your bedroom yet heavily disconnected from your thoughts; leading you to believe it was simply part of your imagination, perhaps even a nightmare…

Until the loud, following response proved you wrong.

“Hurry already, I don’t have time for your games!”

And then, the door suddenly slides open, jolting you awake as you try to make out the passing figures through the darkness of the night, squinting your eyes before gasping when discerning not only one of your least involved nymphs barging her way into your room, but also in the company of a man you have never seen before—a man that shouldn’t be here.

“Taeko?!” You cry, snapping the young woman out of her feverish trance and into you: the severity of her actions.

“Y/N!” It wasn’t intentional, she thought she had led her one-time lover to the guest bedroom (or any other room that wasn’t yours for that matter), but her ignorance in her very own job, and overruling desires would play against her that very night, leading to this. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Who—who is he??” you fret, and Taeko, unable to fathom the depths of her mistakes, or have the courage to face them, does the one thing that would’ve placed her in deeper water if everything else hadn’t transpired: she bails on Naoya.

Quickly letting him go, turning around, and running into the hallways, as far away as possible whilst considering voluntary exile—a punishment she knew would get in the end if this somehow made way to your mother’s ears.

But until then, you’d have to deal with her wrongdoings instead: a slightly tipsy Naoya that has yet to understand what just transpired, struggling to whether be angry at the nymph who had the audacity to abandon him… or admiring the breathtaking beauty that stood before him.

A much, much more alluring sight that’s got him considering how he could even settle for something lower, when you were right here?

Naoya, against his very own survival, chooses the latter. Because even through the murkiness of his mind, he’s still able to discern the fact that your kind of exquisiteness is not one he gets to see every century—thus, should enjoy as much as he could.

Unfortunately, you do not think the same.

“Who—who are you?” you breathe, tightly clenching onto your blankets. If being invaded in the privacy of your own bedroom wasn’t enough, you still had the misfortune of being exposed in your nightgown.

Why is this happening to you? Is this the fate’s twisted way of fulfilling your prayers of meeting the outside world?

“Do you not know who I am??” Naoya gasps, offended by your seeming ignorance. Looks like alcohol wasn’t enough to sway his narcissistic tendencies, because in his mind, how is it possible for anyone to not know who the king of the Underworld is?

“No, I… don’t.” you press your lips together. And this partly infuriates and amuses him. You must be the kind of girl that likes to tease before succumbing to him; you’re only lucky that he finds you deliriously attractive, because had it been anyone else—

“You’re—you’re bleeding.”

Huh?

“Wh—what?” He groans. “What do you mean I’m bleeding??”

“There, on your side, you’re—you’re bleeding.” You repeat, pointing at the splotch of gold that extended the longer it went unattended, staining his robes.

Naoya looks down, quickly remembering the origin of said wound: a small altercation with some defiant subject just a few days ago before tonight. Or more likely, confronted by the husband of a nameless lover he bedded. It wasn’t supposed to happen, of course, but even almighty gods like him could suffer through their arrogance.

All that was left to wonder is how it managed to reopen again, was it his poor job at patching it up? Or the accidental bumps along the road your bedroom, courtesy of Taeko’s and his eagerness?

Guess it doesn’t matter now that he’s in this situation—though he didn’t expect you to rush to his aid.

“Wait, let me help you.” You insist before he’s able to do as much as move, rushing towards a nearby cabinet and taking out a small aid kit, filled with all kinds of utilities one might come to need in situations like this. Your accessibility to such things makes Naoya chuckle, already labeling you as prone to incidents. How adorable.

“…What?” you ask, quickly growing flustered at his reaction.

“Does this happen to you often?” He teases, his golden eyes taking in your face now that you light up a nearby candle; you were even more gorgeous like this. Though he preferred you… with less. “Do gods stumble upon your bedroom quite frequently?”

“No.” you frown. “This was for me. I’d often prick my fingers when I first started my duties … but that was a long time ago.”

“Ah, let me guess—a spring nymph?” Though for a nymph, you sure had commodities honorable of a goddess. And the perfect mounds on your chest too—Naoy has never been happier in his life to be given such a sight. He’d let himself get wounded more frequently if that was the reward.

You were tempted to correct his wrongful assumptions soon after, feeling somewhat afflicted that he’d confuse you, however your mother’s warnings are quick to step in, telling you to keep your identity a secret and let him believe you were nothing more than a serving spirit to the goddess of harvest. But why?

“Yes. I am.” You respond. “I take care of my moth—of the goddesses meadows and fields”

“Silly little nymph, you’re supposed to be careful when—ouch!”

You sharply pressed against his wound in retaliation, whether by his current remark of the pasts, it didn’t matter. What mattered is that you made the god of the dead eat his words.

“Sorry, I guess my hand just slipped.” You responded nonchalantly, moving on with your work. “You know, silly little nymph things.”

“Fine, fine. I get it.” Naoya squirms once more underneath your healing craft, cleaning and patching his wound with unprecedented care… that takes his whole attention upon noticing the striking warmth emanating from your hands.

Followed by the uncharacteristic calmness that engulfed his senses, leaving behind his lustful desires in favor of… peace. Silence.

Something he has never experienced before with anyone else, not even those that proclaimed their utmost loyalty to him.

And certainly not with a nameless nymph, whom he rightfully assumed to be lying about her true identity. You had to be much, much more than that if this was the effect you had on him.

But what?

Just who are you?

“It’s not a deep wound so it should heal quickly; with the right cares, at least.” You note, performing the last adjustments to his treatment before retracting. “There, it’s done. Good as new.”

“I hardly constitute a patch worthy of a god.”

“I guess I could’ve just let you bleed out.” You snap back, Naoya smirks, finding your quick answers amusing. Cute, even.

Definitely cute.

“But I guess I owe you my thanks, don’t I?” Naoya says, reaching out for your warm hands, convincing himself it was with the sole purpose of tasting you, and not because he wanted to bask deeper into your gentleness. Lulled into peace.

You, however, instinctively attempt to break away from his grasp, but the moment you give his touch a second longer of your consideration, you find yourself unable to resist him. The coarse edge on his skin that signifies an extensive, powerful story yet, laments the pain he must’ve endured to get to that point.

A deeper meaning to his presence which you soon verify to that of a god, just as he drunkenly admitted not so long ago.

A god.

He wasn’t delirious; he told the truth.

But still, he wasn’t supposed to be here, your mother—she wouldn’t like it.

And yet…

“What—what are you doing?” you blink, taken aback by his sudden closeness. His intentions were clear, he intended to do the only thing he knew to repay favors for little things like you, which your mind called for you to cease immediately!

But then, your heart… succumbed to the magnetic energy calling you to him; something, somehow, was slowly telling your subconscious that he was much, much more than what your eye saw.

That you’ve met him before, in some… lifetime. In some future, and today, right now, this kiss was the only way you’d recognize him.

So why won’t you just give…in…—

“Y/N!” With otherworldly timing, your mother suddenly calls for you, innocently performing her routinary checks on her adorable flower, while presenting perfect excuse to get a breather from the obnoxious gods she could not wait to see out of her haven.

Your hidden salvation, Naoya’s damnation.

“Y/N, darling, are you ok? Asleep already?”

“Mother!” you gasp, quickly freeing yourself from Naoya’s grasp and looking over to the door, where her footsteps were quickly approaching. Louder, and louder…!

“Mother?” Naoya repeats, unsure if he’s heard right—or perhaps even unwilling. Surely, this wasn’t possi—

No. it wouldn’t be impossible. If anything, it just made every make sense!

“She’s your mother?!” He breathes again. “The goddess of harvest is your mother?!”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You swiftly say, completely disregarding his shock and subsequentially pushing him towards the window, the only route of escape he had this very moment less he wished to face her ire: which legends only described as devastating. “Get out, hurry!”

“Y/N… I saw your nymph’s out by the fields—is everything alright? Why did you dismiss them? Oh, don’t tell me you got into an argument…”

“No, mom, of course not! I just wanted to sleep early, that’s all!” you respond, returning to Naoya. “Get out, now!”

With one strong, unprecedented push, Naoya finally falls out your window with a loud thud that’s thankfully deafened by the nearby party; but even overwhelmed with pain, and some frustration at your imposing rejection, all he could utter was—

“When will I see you again?” he asks; the first time in his life doing so. Naoya just… he was unwilling to let you go.

Not when he’s yet to have you.

…Yet to know more of you.

Of the goddess with the warm hands, the gentle touch.

The sweet, rose-like scent that remains imprinted in his mind for eras to come.

“Never.” You firmly assess before shutting the window.

But he doesn’t let it get to him, if anything, it’s an invitation, a challenge—

A pursuit of the question that is left lingering on both your and his mind once the night is over:

What is this feeling settling in my heart?

I have like 5 more parts in the work so have fun looking forward to that :)

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #also .I. taeko

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