#I couldn't be bothered to give this a background

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader : observations from the sidelines

Route: black fog

Warnings: grammar mistakes, bad writing, angst

Author's note: it was written in hectic conditions. Maybe in the future, I will rewrite it, but I struggle with finding time for anything aside from my studies right now. I'm sorry

Your days in manor went by slowly. All this time, you stayed away from the family of bats. Every time you tried to end up becoming another painful memory, and since it felt like you were the one messing things up, it was your responsibility to prevent things from becoming ugly.

The time of this intentional or not exclusion from made you give up all hope to try become part of them, the part of family. And as much as it was painful, you got used to it. It wasn't something you weren't used to. You had to deal with lots of pain before, maybe a different kind of pain, but still pain.

And you made peace with it. Well, that's what you were saying, trying to convince yourself that it's for the best, and yet the earning for belonging left deep ache in your heart, that sometimes was unbearable to handle. No matter how irrationally it was to expect something more from them, after they gave you a roof over your head, your room, safety and food, you still wanted the warmth that family share, that they all share. Why taking you in at all if they just placed you on a sideline? That question bothered you more than anything else. You couldn't understand that logic, the way they think, the way they act... function even. That's when you felt it, the curiosity, the willingness to learn. And if they placed you to the sideline, why not use it to your advantage. After all, the position you were in allowed you to observe. It would be a perfect position to study them, to find what made them tick, to see what they hold dear, to notice what they avoid. It could be your own since project, the study of almost dysfunctional family. In the meantime, you will also tend to a few of your own things...

One day, you just asked Alfred for a notebook and pen. It surprised me, but he brought them to you. You saw how sometimes while experimenting on you or with his venom your father took notes on various ripped pieces of paper, so you though note taking was essential for experimenting and observations, but since you had resources to use nit ripped papers but something nicer why not use it.

The first obstacle on your way was the fact that I struggled to write, which was essential for your note-taking. Well, you struggled to read, too. But you but knew words, quite a few actually, and you knew basics of writing and reading, you just wasn't trained enough. You decided to train yourself before you start observing everyone and keep an eye on Alfred in a mean time. He may be wary of you, and that's why he won't get close to you, but he helped you either way. He even showed you how to properly hold the pen. On one occasion, he saw you writing. You learned that Alfred was compassionate. He showed care even to you. You saw that even if he was in some sort like you, the character that stayed in the background, you noticed his role was much bigger than that. He had a really big role in this family. He was the one who did most care of the family. He kept track of everyone, their moods, their conditions. And, maybe because of this, he had so many skills that you couldn't keep track of them. He knew tastes and preferences of each and everyone, and it takes either professional or a really caring person for it. And you knew he was both. If only this care is applied to you.... on this, you ended your first observation notebook.

If Alfred was an emotional anchor that was essential for this family to function, Bruce was the sole reason why this family existed at all. But out of all of them, he was the most hard one to observe. He didn't give you time of his day at all. And it confused you. But given the history of taking unfortunate children in, you understood that maybe he took you in for this exact reason - you were unfortunate. And you knew another thing, your father was the bane of the Gotham existence. Given that Bruce was Batman, you figured that he took you in only to prevent you from going to darker path. He didn't need more villainas. He had too many to pay attention already. You don't know why, but taking notes about him was harder than anything.

Soon, your notebooks started filling up with your other notebooks. In each and everyone you wrote about their moral code, their desire for justice and their obsession. The obsession with crime fighting was in blood not only of Bruce but also each and every child of his.

Tim spends nights without sleep, solving cases nights on end. You noted in gray notebook.

Richard, soon you found out, was not only vigilante but a police officer in his city. You wrote in blue journal.

Jason was fighting everything that was wrong in his view. You noted in red notebook.

And Damian just fights everything, showing his despise for criminals. You mentioned in green one.

Ans as much as you hoped that you will only see that cold side of them, so that you could just move on. As much as you tried to concentrate on their crime fighting, while observing them, you knew it wasn't right. You saw other things.

"Alfred loved his family" - you wrote in a white notebook. It was the title for paragraph about things you noticed. Like little moments when he was alone in kitchen baking cookies that all family loved. The sound of light humming made the kitchen more welcoming

"Bruce kept his eye on his kids" - you observed. You noticed him taking some sort of note when he saw one morning that Damian didn't particularly enjoy his meal. You and him both took notes about family members... you wondered if he had notes about you.

"Dick was the one who was raising spirits up" - you concluded one day, when he came over, when Tim needed emotional support. You even caught him looking at you once, as if he was trying to gather strengths to talk to you

"Jason loves library" - you wrote in "Jason Tod likes". You were surprised to see how calm Jason can be when he was paying attention to his book and not something that aggravated him. This sight of him made you want to want to train read more

" TIm is helpful" - you scribbled in "Tim : personality". You also saw how Tim was quick to help others. Even if he went a few nights without a second of shut eye, he was willing to help others.

"Damian loves pets" - you noted one day when you saw Damian taking care of his pets, his dear Titus and Alfred the cat. You were so surprised to see him smiling

But these good sides of them, for you this side, were unreachable. You knew from previous experience that no matter how hard you tried, for you, it won't work. The pages of your plans on how to get along with them half written and covered in tear stains.

Their obsession with the criminal world made it impossible for you to be seen as an innocent human being.

But you also weren't as dangerous as a threat to be considered seriously.

After some time of thinking, you found a solution for your lonely situation... you began a new notebook.

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think about my work! Hope you have a good day

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[cosmicviolencce]

𝝑𝝔 stepbrother rafe loves being in your room.

⊹ unprotected sex, somnophilia, mentions of drugs.

rafe was the last person you'd imagine being close to. he was... well, rafe. sarah was sweet and you two loved to chat, and wheezie was the reason you moved into the island, leaving your life behind — you didn't want to be away from your mother and lost your sister's childhood, so you left your life in the city. and well, a little bit of sun and salty water in a millionaire mansion wouldn't be that bad.

it surprised you when you realized how close you'd become, you thought you'd hate him at first. rafe was problematic, a troublemaker and... he wasn't very friendly with the idea of an outsider in his house, using his father's money. he wasn't friendly with anyone at all, except with his little sister wheezie, and that was one thing you had in common.

you began to exchange some greetings here and there, then he'd barge into your room without knocking, asking you for silly things as an excuse to see you laying there in your pajamas. "have you seen my charger?", "think I lost my phone... can you call me?", "party at topper's place. don't be late or you're staying here".

and without realizing, you were a hundred percent inside his world, that complicated and messy little world. your room was the coolest place in that house for him, so cozy and welcoming and somehow nostalgic, sunrays seemed to hit different trough your lacy white curtains, with cigarettes after sex playing in the background while you layed in your pale pink sheets in your pajamas to read a book, smelling like fucking strawberries.

it all seemed to turn quiet in there, like there was nothing in the outiside of that room but clouds. the atmosphere changed completely once he stepped in, and he loved that you'd accept to have him in there for hours without bothering to even say something; his mind was so filled with shit and he needed some silence. you just layed there, doing your girlie shit like he wasn't there. and when he felt like, he'd talk to you about his problems with his dad, or about business shit you didn't quite understood, or simply do drugs with you and stare at the ceiling of your room as his mind went blank.

then, he began to step into your room to give you a goodnight kiss after coming home late at night, and trough kiss after kiss, you reached for him and locked him into your arms. of course he'd stay. because your mattress felt somehow even more comfortable than his king sized bed, and you would always feel so warm under the blankets. god, he loved your scent. strawberries and vanilla, always clinging to your skin, and pillows, even in the air he could feel it. and you were always so warm, his hands touched every inch of you. your back, your legs, your stomach. he couldn't get enough.

such a sweet, protective big bro.

and before the sunrise, trough that lazy fog, he unconsciously rubbed his hard cock against the flesh of your ass, your bodies always pressed together in your sleep as he had the sweetest dreams of you. he went crazy when all you did was lift your hips even more until he came on his boxers after rubbing himself against you, quickly coming back to sleep with your back pressed against his chest.

you'd let him use you without caring about anything. it was your little secret, always so cozy and intimate. you lowered your pajama's shorts to your heels for him and went back to sleep while he stroked himself while looking at your pretty ass, at the curve of your back. he touched your breasts under your shirt, squeezed your asscheeks and parted them to spill all his cum and watch it slide down your skin.

then you couldn't jerk off without eachother, always sneaking under eachother's sheets and touching yourselves together. he loved to watch that blush take over your cheeks, the roll of your eyes as you came in front of him, legs open to that pretty cunt for him to soak with his cum.

but he couldn't fuck you. it was okay to just jerk off with you, right? you were just helping eachother, but fucking you seemed like a limit for him not to cross. but it turned more and more difficult. you were dying to feel how his perfect cock would feel inside you, and you were the perfect image of an angel, so pure and oblivious to your surroundings, probably dreaming of something sweet.

so one night you didn't wake up to his kisses, or the touch of his slender hands as he touched himself. it was his cock, stretching out your tight and warm walls. fuck, it was so good. you gasped, immediately lifting your head from the pillow. rafe was already fucking you slowly when he reached out to shush you, to stroke your scalp and slide his thumb over your flushed cheek, then down to your parted lips. 'shh, 's okay sis. i'll be quick, 'kay? just have to be quiet... fuck— can you do that 'f me?'

you nodded, resting your head against the pillow again as he muttered a sound of approval under his breath. fuck, it finally happened. he didn't even have to do much, his dick already filled you with a gentle roll of his hips, with his hands keeping your own hips lifted for him at the perfect angle. without mucb you were already making a mess on his dick, wet sounds coming out as discreetly as your soft sighs, muffled against the pillow, your eyes shut while you found yourself stuck between the feel of his thrusts and the sweet haze that made you a sleepy mess. rafe knew exactly what to do, how to do. you didn't make a sound, didn't even move.

he'd mutter a breathy 'fuck' or just hum, making sure you two wouldn't be discovered in the intimate of that moment. he rushed just a bit, and the constant rubbing of his tip on your soft spot made you curl against him, pussy contorting so sweety it made him come right after you, finally, finally spilling ropes of cum inside you just like he always wanted to. he stayed there for a bit, and the struggle to let go made one thing clear; now that the line was crossed, he'd come for more. again and again.

notes: tysm for reading! please support a writer by liking and reblogging if you enjoyed. english is not my first language so pleease sorry if there are any mistakes, just wrote this in a hurry. i dont know if i should keep writing only for rafe in this blog or also keep writing about the other characters at my blog... anyways, ill keep posting, byee xoxo

[astralsyst3m]

I have Thoughts on Martin Blackwood so welcome back to Astral's Autism Analysis Time!

Spoilers for The Magnus Archives under the cut!

Martin Blackwood is a man who was born to a sickly and abusive mother and a neglectful father. It's never fully said if the abuse ever goes to physical abuse, however at the very least his mother emotionally and mentally abuses Martin. Martin is a man who had to learn to manipulate people for his survival, how to lie to appease his mother, how to calm and appease people who are angry at him and wish him harm. He can't be angry, he can't show his anger because it only ever makes things worse. So he lies, he smiles and he does his best to remain kind.

Martin at his core is a kind man, a man who wants those around him to be happy, who tries his best to take care of others because that's what he knows how to do, he knows how to take care of people, it's what he does.

Martin in the early seasons of The Magnus Archives does everything that he can do to be helpful. He would likely have tried to stay under the radar if not for the dog, however because of that he does what he can to show that he is useful and that he's able to do the work.

He cares for the team and genuinely does what he sees himself best at and makes them tea, he likely writes down memorizes how they like their tea so that he doesn't have to bother them over it more than once.

Martin, despite his large heart, is still angry. His anger isn't something he shows outwardly like Tim or Melanie, no it's something that simmers, that exists in the background, that he pushes away because anger won't help survival. Because in all likelihood his mother used her anger on him and he doesn't wish to make others feel how his mother made him feel.

The burning of the Statements in season three shows part of this anger, the glee that he gets from being outwardly petty instead of slowly and methodically getting what he wants or needs from small manipulations over the years.

It's highly likely that a good amount of the planning done against the Head of the Institute in season three is done by Martin throwing out his ideas, either to the group or telling them to someone else who could then pass the idea off as their own, or give credit if they wished.

Throughout season four Martin goes to his roots of manipulation, doing what is needed to gain Peter's trust so that he can keep Jon safe, because that is his priority. That is the man he cares for.

Martin is a man who manipulates when necessary, a man who cares only for those closest to him.

Martin is also very much a parallel to Basira in similar ways to how Jon and Daisy are parallels.

Martin, like Basira sees in black and white, good and bad, monster and human. He insists that Jon, despite his Eldrichness is human, because to be anything else is to be a monster and monsters are bad. In the end Martin is asked and begged by the man he loves to kill him. Just as Basira treats Daisy, just as Basira is forced to kill Daisy.

Martin wants Jon to smite Oliver not just because Oliver is an Avatar and therefore a monster, but also because he is jealous, because Oliver was the one to wake up Jon when he couldn't. Oliver is the man to bring Jon back from the brink of death when Martin couldn't.

Martin, like all characters in The Magnus Archives is an incredibly complicated and flawed man. Martin is human and humans are flawed.

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L x Reader pt. 2: The Billionaire and the Prostitute

this one is much shorter than the first, but I feel like it's an important one for storyline's sake, and I also felt like it was important to cut it off where I did. Let me know what you think!

L has been thinking about you.

Don't flatter yourself, he thinks about everything.

He thinks about how dull life is without a case to work on. He thinks about how there is currently a .06% decrease in American stock market value. He thinks about how the changing climate means that Mont Blanc will be coming into season. He thinks about you.

It's best to start with why he even decided to find a prostitute in the first place. Yes, he's heard sexual activity is good for mental acuity, but it's more than that.

At first, he tried to watch porn. The results were rather fruitless, the obvious theatrics and pandering was what one might call "a turn off." He didn't appreciate the plastic, fake feeling of it. So, he turned to more experimental methods.

He tried various aphrodisiacs, no matter how disgusting (He will never taste another oyster in this life), different devices, anything to gather a result. It just wasn't...fun. It brought him little pleasure, and it certainly didn't give him any boost in attention. Still, he was no quitter, and when self-pleasure failed, it was only natural that human contact took it's place.

It would be wrong to say that people scare him, because it frankly isn't true. People don't scare him, nor do they allude him, they simply...tired him. People are so needy, they want to be praised and assured and directed. He was content in doing so, for the sake of work, but recreation was different. More personal. More annoying. On the other hand, this hypothesis intrigued him, so he would allow the discontent, so long as he could minimize it.

Obviously, he couldn't find someone to date, it wouldn't be right. The breakup after his experimenting would be too messy. So, a hooker. He scoured the internet, called a few people that owed him favors, and gathered a small sample. high end women with extensive background checking and respected clientele.

He needed someone who wouldn't ask more questions than necessary, he needed someone he was attracted to, and he needed someone who knew what they were doing. With so much time on his hands, he personally looked into each woman's history, including yours.

He knows what you've done for clients, what you offer to do, what you ask of them before hand, as well as the personal things. Name, age, schooling, address. Nothing to worry about of course, he's not judgmental. You had the best track record out of everyone, as well as the highest rates.

With a logical deduction, he chose you. It only made sense, you were objectively the best. He sent Watari to drop off a letter in your mailbox, a request of your services accompanied by up-to-date tests for every STD under the sun, with hopes of your cooperation. As you know, you responded via the email address he had added on the request, and sent over your expectations and contracts. They were reviewed by him, all manageable and reasonable. All parties must consent, the relations can be terminated at any time, each session must be paid for individually, etc. However, you also demanded more pay for the extra work he required. It would take a lot of time to do all the things he requested for privacy's sake, and that should be paid for along with your time in his presence.

Ever gracious, he corresponded that he'd pay ¥10,000,000 for each session. It was no bother, and far easier than negotiating. He received an eager agreement, as he suspected, and sent the down payment.

a week after contracts were signed and processed, you came over for your first meeting. He found himself attracted to you, at least in a physical sense, which was promising. In an effort to be hospitable, he offered you cake and engaged in light small talk, and through that he found you to be interesting. Polite yet proud, witty and...a little bossy. He wasn't used to being bossed. It was good, it meant he didn't have to worry about initiating anything. He could follow a professional's direction.

The sex was much better than his personal attempts. He was delighted, one might say. During the act, his train of thought felt surprisingly linear, there were no clouds of depression, nor scatterings of calculations, not a single other idea besides how you felt around him. To find that the stress he often experienced was practically nonexistent in the afterglow was almost better than the act itself.

In the time after, he felt spurred on, instilled with a vigor that couldn't be traded for anything. He took on a new case in America, nothing he needed to be present for, but something that he would enjoy enough to fill his days with. This clarity lasted for a couple weeks, 18 days to be exact, before he felt exactly as he had before. Make no mistake, 18 days was an incredible feat for him, this was not anything he regretted. Now, all he had to do was call you back. ¥10,000,000 twice a month wasn't so bad...though he may just have to quell his excitement at this discovery and only schedule you back once a month. He could spend two or so weeks feeling bogged down, it was no trouble.

Your phone rang around 10 PM, right in the middle of a very delicious ramen dinner. You didn't recognize the number, but you picked it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Miss L/N?"

"L?" You never gave him your number, but you recognized his low tone and slow, enunciated words.

"Yes. I'd like to schedule another appointment."

"How'd you get my number?" Already? you saw him 2 weeks ago. He didn't strike you as someone with a high libido.

"I don't see how that's important. Would you rather me send an email?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Next time then. Another appointment?"

You sigh. It was a curse, being so impeccable in bed. "Yeah, sure, what time?"

"I want to see you on October 13th, at 11:30 PM. does that work for you?"

"Really?" people don't usually schedule so far in advance, this is usually an impulse, call a day ahead type of thing.

"I imagine you're busy. Can you do it?"

"I mean...yeah, sure, why not," you shrug, grabbing your calendar to pencil him in.

You were very easy going. He liked that, it was a sign you were open-minded.

"Alright, you're in. Anything else?"

"...Yes, actually. Did you enjoy yourself?"

He was certainly forward. "Uh..." you thought back. You didn't mind how he went about it...he was nice to look at... he picked it up quickly. He actually managed to give you an orgasm. "Yeah. Guess so," you hum. What were you supposed to do, jump for joy? "Why?"

"Curiosity. That was all, thank you."

"Kay, goodnight," you say, annoyance slipping through your tone. It was sort of late, and your food was getting cooler by the second.

"Goodnight, Miss L/N," L says softly. Then, he hangs up.

What an odd guy.

L can confidently say, and this is not something he can say often, that he is excited. The prospects were enticing, he wanted to know just how beneficial this arrangement was in the long run. to see results after only one night was incredible enough, imagine what could happen after sustained visitation. Though, he had another question he neglected to ask on the phone.

Your computer pinged with the notification of an email. You roll your eyes. You were just about to get into bed, now what? After considering waiting until morning, you tiredly walk over to your computer, and opened up your work email to see which bastard was emailing you now. To your surprise, it was the one you just finished talking to.

Do you enjoy sweets? If so, which ones?

-L

[bluetomatoart]

Trying to practice drawing muscles and such.

[lostalioth]

𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫

→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.

→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.

Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.

You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.

“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.

You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.

“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.

“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.

“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.

“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.

“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.

That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.

“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.

Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.

“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.

With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.

“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.

A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.

He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.

“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.

“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.

“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.

Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.

“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.

Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.

→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN

[cybertron-after-dark]

Average transformers g1 episode:

Megatron is attempting to black out the entire sky across a hundred mile radius and funnel all the sunlight into one, concentrated solar death ray to target a heavy duty solar panel he's having soundwave and the cassetticons build in order to convert it to energon. Then he plans to hit the autobot base with the death ray just for funsies. Starscream plans to push Megatron directly into the death ray, also just for funsies.

Optimus sends Wheeljack and Spike to deal with it, along with two bots you're pretty sure have not been in this show before this point, but you're kind of past asking how many of these fuckers were on the ark offscreen when it crashed. One of them has the worst fake Canadian accent you have ever heard, and the other's name sounds inexplicably dirty.

Starscream tries to get Megatron to stand in the spot he told Skywarp and Ramjet to direct the death ray, but is interrupted when Rumble asks why Starscream stuck him with extra work (a task Megatron assigned specifically to Starscream). This vexes Megatron. The autobots show up and try to figure out what the point of the blacked out sky is while Starscream attempts to talk his way out of it. Then the death ray goes off two feet away from Megatron, which only pisses him off further.

The Canadian bot yells "AH BINARY-BEAVERS!!" because the death ray caught him off guard and completely gives away the bots' position. Soundwave immediately fires on them. Gratuitous robot violence ensues. Spike is generally useless and tries chucking rocks at Rumble. Megatron is too busy trying to almost-murder Starscream to bother with the autobots and just lets Soundwave handle it.

Probably-an-innuendo-name-bot is luckily a flier and takes the chance to see what's blocking the sun now that their cover's blown anyway. He gets up there and the seekers are sticking tinfoil on the clouds to make the tops reflective. The writers are really just hoping you don't think too hard about it.

Skywarp starts firing on dirty-name and calls him a nerd. Dirty-name takes evasive action. Skywarp runs out of ammo and starts just chucking tin foil at him. Dirty-name calls him dumb and says his processor is made of spare toaster parts. Then he crash lands and canada-bot asks if dirty-name's wings are spare toaster parts as well. Wheeljack yells that they'll all be spare toaster parts if they don't focus on the decepticons. The death ray goes off again and barely misses the autobots. Wheeljack corrects himself to Melted spare toaster parts.

Dirty-name gives Wheeljack the rundown on the tinfoil clouds so he can figure out a way to get rid of them while Canada-bot fights Soundwave and the cassettes in the background. Spike is kind of helping too sort of almost. Those rocks hes chucking sure are damaging. Ravage gets straight up drop kicked. It cuts back to Wheeljack whipping up a good old fashioned Device™️.

Starscream flies up past the tinfoil barrier while Megatron shoots at him. All the holes he's shooting in the blackout barrier are just making more, slightly shittier death rays and the main one is losing concentration. One of them hits Megatron right in the optic and he keels over with an over the top screech. Starscream descends, breaking another hole in the tinfoil to see a golden opportunity.

"MEGATRON HAS BEEN BLINDED!!! I, STARSCREAM AM NOW YOUR LEADER!!!"

Wheeljack finishes his Device™️: A grenade that makes tinfoil entirely invisible, thus rendering the whole weapon unusable. The writers are hungover, please do not think about it too hard. Pretty please. Dirty-name doesn't know if he can throw it into one of the holes in the barrier on his own since he can't fly in robot mode and he cant throw in altmode. Spike offers to get on his back and throw it in for him if he can get close enough. And he's just SO good at throwing things. The other two agree he's their best shot, they're so happy spike is around, couldn't do it without him.

Starscream is hovering in the air as he gives his Decepticon Leader Acceptance Speech he's prepared for this very occasion, golden light streaming in from the him-shaped hole in the barrier. Dirty-name and spike zip past him and spike makes the best goddamn throw of his life. Before starscream can properly question the Fucking Audacity of these autobots interrupting him while he's trying to have a moment, the invisible explosion goes off that the animators are just happy they don't have to put that much effort into drawing. Starscream gets knocked out of the air and crashes directly onto Megatron. This vexes Megatron.

Sky's normal again. Don't worry that there's still tinfoil there, don't even fuckin worry about it dude. Spike and Dirty-name touch back down. Round of applause for spike for throwing super good. Wheeljack comments that he's just happy it blew up the way it was supposed to. Cue uncomfortably long laughing. Megatron manages to roll starscream off him and calls for a retreat.

Back at the decepticon base, Megatron has an eyepatch and is skulking. Starscream yaps about how it makes him look like a proper tyrant, brooding and battle scarred, and, dare he say, darkly handsome? This vexes Megatron.

[sttoru]

‘if there’s anyone in this world who loves being a girl dad the most, it must be your husband — gojo satoru.’

☀︎｜tags. girl dad!gojo x female reader. fluff. you’re married. reader gets called ‘mama, sweetheart’. wrote this at work so not beta read. fic one out of two for satoru’s birthday!

giggles fill the living room — familiar laughter that sounded like your daughters’. a more sultry and manly voice also resonates in the background. one that you could recognise from miles away.

your curiosity leads you to investigate the source of the joyful sounds and soon enough, you find your dear husband and daughters sitting on the couch. though, in a situation you hadn’t quite foreseen.

satoru was talking on the phone about important business whilst your little girls were giving him a rather sparkly makeover. the most heartwarming thing was satoru’s surrender to your daughters’ antics — allowing them to do whatever to his face and hair.

“mhm, yeah..” the white-haired sorcerer hums over the phone, not having the slightest idea about what ijichi was yapping about. probably something that has to do with the recent sighting of a special grade curse in the city.

but, that wasn’t satoru’s priority at the moment at all (even if it should have been). his focus was all on his two daughters that were enjoying their playtime with him.

“papa’s so pretty.” one of them comments with a big smile — a smile satoru wishes to protect until his last moment on earth. her fingers push and pull on a small strand of his hair, trying to tug it into another ponytail.

satoru had already lost count of how many messy and half-done ponytails his snowy hair got divided into. the same goes for the amount of stickers on his face and neck.

the two sisters work together to put another pink and glittery sticker on satoru’s chin — though were no match to their father’s playful attitude. he jerks his head forwards and teasingly nibbles on their tiny hands that came in touch with his face.

this causes almost ear deafening squeals to reverberate through his ears. not that he’s complaining — satoru loves to hear them.

“. . .gojo, are you listening?” ijichi’s shaky voice over the phone interrupts the squeals. satoru doesn’t even try giving a proper response and only mutters a quick ‘yeah’ between snickers. that was enough of a sign for ichiji to understand that he couldn't get through.

everyone knew how much satoru loved his little family. he cherished them and put them above everything, including his work. sometimes it was necessary for you to remind satoru that he's needed outside your home - that he was and will keep being the strongest sorcerer that people depend on.

"wow, you two really made papa super pretty!" satoru coos as his daughters bring him a hand mirror. his phone had already been discarded somewhere on the couch - not even bothering to hang up on ijichi first.

your husband effortlessly picks the children up and cuddles them close to his body, smothering them both in sloppy wet kisses on their cheeks and necks - making them giggle uncontrollably. "y'know, papa will give you both a nice little reward for making me so beautifu—”

a faint cough echoing from the mobile device next to them reminds satoru that he was still on call. he reaches out and grabs his phone, rolling his eyes in a sassy way before clearing his throat;

"i need to attend important business. see ya." the sorcerer declares and hangs up right after. to him, playing around and taking care of his daughters was more than necessary. even in comparison with an actual critical situation: it wasn't like there weren't any other special grade sorcerers that could take on the mission.

the second his phone plops back down on the couch, satoru's hands fly over to tickle his little girls' bellies. they wriggle and squirm around in his lap - squealing for help from their mama.

you had been watching the scene unfold from the doorway and decide to join in on the fun once you hear your daughters’ call. you gasp dramatically before scurrying over to the couch, acting like you were genuinely scolding your husband for his 'torturuos' tickles;

"oh no, my little girls!" you pout, taking in the way your daughters laugh and outstretch their tiny arms towards you, searching for an escape in your arms. you gladly help them away from their dad's grasp, though not without getting a whine out of satoru.

one of your daughters sticks out her tongue at the sulky sorcerer on the couch, the other mimicking her sister's actions. you chuckle and decide to do the same; frowning and sticking your tongue out.

"ack!" satoru clutches his chest, fingers curling around the material of his shirt like he just got shot. he topples over on the couch and acts dead with his eyes half closed, "i can't. . . believe. . . it. my girls hate me. ugh, my heart - can't take it."

you scoff at his exaggerated act. you were used to it after years of dating and marriage, but your daughters seemed to still take the bait. they writhe around in your arms and once you put them down on the floor again, they run back to their 'fallen' dad.

they shake him by his shoulders and harshly pat his cheeks in attempt to bring him back to life. a constant loop of 'papa!'s and 'wake up!'-s echo throughout the house. even some 'we're sworry!'-s thrown in-between.

satoru couldn't take it anymore and his arms move at the speed of light so he could pull both of his daughters in a big hug. he squeezes them a bit too tight to his chest, causing them to shriek and laugh.

"are you not joining us, sweetheart?" satoru asks with a shit-eating grin. it's then that you realise that he was blushing from pure joy — his cheeks rosy. well, you couldn't possibly deny his request when he was this ecstatic.

the high-pitched 'mama too! mama too!' coming from both girls mellowed your heart even more. and thus, you give in.

you happily join the pile - climbing on top of your husband and between your daughters which lay on each of his sides. your head rests on his chest, your eyes closed and your ears filled with laughter.

satoru eventually relaxes, however that genuine smile never leaves his lips. this is where he belongs. with his family - the most important thing of all.

[alchemistc]

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[faebled-stories]

Under Control

Le Sserafim's Kim Chaewon x Male reader

AN: First time writing smut and male reader. all for the request of my friend. (you know who you are)

Chaewon had always been the kind of person who thrived on control, keeping people at arm’s length with her sharp tongue and biting wit. Even before Yunjin met her, Chaewon had already cemented a reputation for being difficult—a self-proclaimed “brat” who could both charm and irritate in equal measure. Her mastery in pushing buttons was unmatched; it was as if she derived amusement from digging under people’s skin, just to watch them squirm.

Tonight was no different.

The soft hum of the café filled the background as Yunjin glanced at Chaewon from across the table. The overhead lights cast a warm glow, contrasting with the chill of the iced coffee Yunjin gripped in her hand. Outside, the faint sound of rain tapping against the windows added a rhythm to the evening, a subtle underscore to the tension simmering between them.

"You know unnie," Yunjin muttered, her patience starting to fray, "one of these days, your attitude is going to backfire." She took a long sip, savoring the brief respite as the coolness of the drink soothed her frustration.

Chaewon, lounging back in her chair with her usual casual defiance, smirked. The sharp lines of her bob cut swayed slightly as she tilted her head, her eyes glinting with the challenge she knew Yunjin was trying to avoid. "Backfire? Please. You know people love me for it, they pretty much beg me just to be in the same room. I can't help that I'm all that"

The confidence in her voice was almost palpable, filling the space around them. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass, a small, idle gesture that betrayed just how much she reveled in Yunjin's irritation. It was a game she loved to play—pushing, prodding, and watching to see how far she could go.

Yunjin sighed, rolling her eyes, the exhale carrying the weight of her exasperation. "It's exhausting, unnie. You keep everyone at a distance, do you know how many people come up to me and the rest of the members begging us to pass on a message to you. Not everyone’s going to play along with your games forever, you know."

Chaewon merely shrugged, her smirk unfazed. "Maybe I just haven't met someone interesting enough to bother with, actually no, it's impossible because no one will be able to stop me" She leaned forward slightly, the playful air around her intensifying. The soft light caught the edge of her grin, casting a mischievous shadow over her sharp features.

But Yunjin wasn’t letting it slide this time. Her eyes narrowed, lips twitching as a sly smile began to form. The café’s ambient noise faded for a moment as she leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Oh, don’t worry. That’s about to change."

For the first time that night, Chaewon's smirk faltered. She blinked, her brow furrowing just slightly as she caught the shift in Yunjin’s tone. There was something different here, something she couldn't quite place. “What are you plotting now?” The suspicion in her voice was thinly veiled, her usual bravado giving way to the sliver of wariness that had begun to creep in.

The café lights seemed to dim just a fraction as Yunjin picked up her phone, her fingers dancing over the screen with a practiced ease, the number wasn't saved but her fingers seemed to by typing out of muscle memory. Her smile grew, her excitement barely contained as she made the call, sealing the fate of the days to come.

“Hey… yeah its Jen, I need to borrow you… no no no, not for me but for a friend”

---

Days later, the sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting a deep orange glow over the café’s interior. Chaewon’s arrival was met with the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversations blending together. She slid into her usual seat across from Yunjin, her sharp eyes immediately picking up on her friend’s uncharacteristic excitement.

"Okay, spill." Chaewon’s eyebrow arched as she studied Yunjin’s barely concealed glee. "What’s going on? You’ve got that look again."

Yunjin leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that seemed to hover between them. "You’re going to love him."

Chaewon crossed her arms, her posture stiffening as skepticism washed over her. The café’s warm light bathed her in an amber hue, highlighting the suspicion etched into her features. “What? Who are you talking about? What are you planning, Yunjin?”

Yunjin’s grin widened, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Just trust me. He’s perfect for you, in more ways than one.”

A faint drizzle had begun outside, the rain tapping lightly against the window panes as Chaewon’s curiosity was piqued despite her better judgment. She huffed, feigning disinterest even though her mind was already racing through the possibilities. “I swear, if hes like anyone of the weirdos i’ve met i'm going to kill you”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Yunjin interjected with a barely suppressed chuckle. “He’s not what you’re expecting.”

The rain outside grew heavier, the pattering against the glass intensifying as if matching the undercurrent of tension that began to fill the space between them. Chaewon’s gaze flickered to the window, watching the droplets streak down before returning to Yunjin, her suspicion deepening. She could feel something shifting—something inevitable on the horizon, just out of reach.

“Cmon it's almost time” the red head pulled her leader out of her chair as the excitement was too much for her to handle.

---

The bar’s atmosphere was different from the quiet warmth of the café—darker, more intimate. The amber glow of low-hanging lights bathed the space in a soft golden hue, casting long shadows across the floor. The air was thick with the scent of worn leather and whiskey, mingling with the low murmur of voices and the steady thrum of background music. It was the perfect setting for what was about to unfold.

Yunjin leaned against the bar, tapping her nails on the counter as Chaewon adjusted in her seat. The space was comfortable, the kind of place they frequented, but something about the air tonight felt heavier, more charged. Chaewon’s eyes flitted toward the door as it swung open.

In walked Y/N.

He moved with a quiet, deliberate confidence that immediately drew attention. His tall, broad frame seemed to absorb the space around him as he made his way across the room, his dark eyes scanning before locking onto Chaewon’s. She felt the shift immediately—a faint flutter in her chest that she was quick to squash. Her fingers tightened around her glass, the condensation wetting her palm.

There was something about him that irritated her. The way he walked with such ease, as if the room bent to his will, set her on edge. Who did he think he was?

“Unnie, this is Y/N—Y/N, meet Chaewon,” Yunjin said with a grin, the playful glint in her eyes betraying her enjoyment of the situation. She greeted Y/N with a hug, whispering something quickly to him  "You know what to do." before turning back to Chaewon.

Y/N extended a hand toward Chaewon, but she didn’t move. Her smirk widened as she surveyed him, her posture cool, detached, as if she were appraising him like a figure in a gallery she was already bored of.

“Chaewon,” Y/N greeted, his voice deep and steady. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Chaewon’s smirk remained, but there was a sharpness in her gaze as she tilted her head. “Oh really? All good things, I hope,” she drawled, the sarcasm dripping from her words, “Or are you here to try and do what other couldn't”

Y/N lowered his hand without a hint of hesitation, his smile never faltering. “Yunjin did say you have a knack for getting what you want,” he responded smoothly, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. “She said you can be a bit… bratty when things don’t go your way.”

Chaewon’s expression shifted, her smirk vanishing, replaced with a cold, sharp glare. “Excuse me? Bratty?” The word lingered on her tongue like a bad taste. "That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugged, his gaze calm and unyielding. “Well, she did say you’re good at using that charm of yours to manipulate situations in your favor. I’d call that bratty.”

Chaewon leaned back, crossing her arms in defiance. “Manipulate? I prefer to think of it as persuasion, and I don't even have to try, It's not my fault they bend over backwards for me. ” Her voice was haughty, each syllable dripping with superiority. She tilted her chin up, daring him to challenge her.

Y/N didn’t rise to the bait. His response was calm, measured. “Whatever you want to call it. It’s a fine line between persuasion and manipulation, though, isn’t it?”

Chaewon’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, her eyes narrowing as she felt her control slipping, just a little. “You think you know me? You think you can come in here and figure me out with a few words?”

He smiled, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know everything about you,” he admitted, “but I know enough to see through the act.”

Her smirk faltered.

Y/N leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his voice soft but laced with confidence. “You hide behind that attitude because it makes you feel powerful. It’s how you keep people at your fingertips. But I’m not playing your game.”

The air between them thickened, the space closing as Chaewon leaned in, her glare icy. “You think you’re different? Special?” Her voice lowered, venom in every word. “You’re just like the others. And you’ll crumble, just like they did.”

Y/N’s gaze didn’t waver, his smile deepening slightly. “I’m not like the others. I won’t let you push me around.” He paused, letting the weight of his words hang between them. “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

Chaewon’s breath hitched. The words cut deeper than she wanted to admit, and for the first time in a long while, she felt off-balance. Vulnerable.

But pride was a stubborn thing.

She straightened, forcing her usual smirk back into place. “ I heard that speech way too much. Do you really think you can handle me?” she asked, her voice dripping with arrogance, even though a flicker of doubt crept into her mind.

Y/N’s gaze softened, though his confidence never wavered. “I don’t need to handle you, Chaewon. I just know that you’re not as untouchable as you want everyone to believe.”

Chaewon leaned in closer, her voice low and dangerous. “ I'd like to see you try and prove it. I need a good laugh”

Y/N’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a quiet, unshakable confidence. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “I will.”

Just then, Yunjin came back to grab her bag that she left next to her leader. Sensing the charged energy between them she knew it was time. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said casually, grabbing her bag. “Don’t kill each other while I’m gone,” she added with a wink before slipping toward the restroom.

Moments later, Chaewon’s phone chimed softly. She glanced down, seeing a message from Yunjin, who had left her seat.

Yunjin: His safe word is cantaloupe, I thought you should know. I told him not to mention it, but better safe than sorry. Have fun! xoxo

Chaewon stared at the text, her brow furrowing. "Safe word?" she muttered under her breath.

Before she could make sense of it, Y/N leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Yunjin has a blabber mouth, doesn’t she?" His voice was low, a quiet murmur laced with amusement. "She told me what you are. And what you need."

Chaewon’s cheeks flushed at his words, though she fought to maintain her composure. She pushed him back slightly with a scoff, though her voice wavered with a trace of uncertainty. " She might know a lot but she doesn't know everything about me"

Y/N’s smirk deepened, his dark eyes gleaming with a quiet intensity. "You’re a fake," he said matter-of-factly. "You go around pretending to be something you’re not, just hoping one person can challenge you. but deep down, I know the type of person you are. I've seen them multiple times. Yunjin knows it, too. You want to be put in your place. You need to be taught a lesson."

The words stung, but Chaewon couldn’t deny the way they ignited something deep inside her—fear, anticipation, and a thrill she couldn’t quite place. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to respond, her voice filled with false bravado. "And who do you think you are to teach me anything?"

Y/N’s expression didn’t waver. He leaned back slightly, his calmness almost maddening. "Someone who won’t let you get away with it." His voice was a low rumble, a quiet challenge that seemed to vibrate in the air between them.

It was a challenge she couldn’t resist, though hesitation lingered beneath her bravado. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to back down, even as curiosity gnawed at her. "I bet you’re all talk and no bite," she said, crossing her arms defiantly. 

Chaewon stood up with a huff, her expression a mix of determination and uncertainty, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil inside her. “Well, get on with it. Let’s go to the place where I will inevitably prove you wrong."

---

Once they arrived at his apartment, Chaewon felt a surge of confidence, believing she had the upper hand. The interior was cozy and inviting almost like there was a family inside, with dim lighting casting long shadows across the walls. The scent of something warm and delicious wafted through the air, enveloping her senses and putting her at ease. Chaewon looked around, feeling a sense of control return as she surveyed the space. “So, this is your home?”  she said, a playful smirk on her lips. “Nice ambiance, a little soft for someone with tough words don’t you think? I’m not impressed .”

Y/N turned to face her, his expression unreadable as he watched her closely. Chaewons pride was strong, really strong but seeing the look of the man in front of her For the first time in a long time, Chaewon felt vulnerable—truly vulnerable.

He looked at her with a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Strip," he said, his voice a command that sent a shiver down her spine. His command echoed through the quiet space. Chaewon's eyes widened, but she didn't move. "I said strip," he repeated, his tone unyielding.

Her hand started to move but it stopped, “What? You don't get to tell me that, if anything you should be the one stripping first” The Idols heart was pounding and she didn't know why but she was slowly crumbling.

“I'm not going to ask again” that's all Y/N responded with but his words held such power. They stared at each other for a while. Chaewon’s eyes were the first to break under the the pressure of Y/N’s stare

With a huff, she began to remove her clothes, each article dropping to the floor like a declaration of war. She felt his gaze on her, hot and assessing, as she revealed her body to him. Her cheeks burned with a mix of anger and arousal. Who did he think he was, ordering her around like this? And who was she? to blindly follow orders.

But as she stood before him in nothing but her matching bra and panties, her group's title on the hem of both, she felt a strange sense of vulnerability. Her usual armor of snark and sass had been stripped away, leaving her exposed and...wet?. She could feel the dampness growing between her thighs, and she hated it.

"On your knees," he said, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from arguing. She dropped to the floor, her knees bending on its own, her eyes flashing up at him with defiance. "Now,” he started, staring into her eyes  “tell me, who's in charge here?"

Chaewon opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She knew the answer, but she didn't want to admit it. The power she had clung to so fiercely was slipping through her fingers like sand. She could feel it, the shift in dynamics, the tipping of the scales.

Y/N stepped closer, his hand reaching down to cup her face, slightly squishing her cheeks together. "Answer me" he said, there was no room for argument in his tone.“I am?” Chaewon forced out. Her tone answered the question for her. He squeezed her cheeks tighter as he stared down onto her eyes. She couldn't stand him staring at her like that, and involuntarily her voice responded “You are” . It was quite as she was still clinging on the small thread of pride she had left, He let off the pressure on her cheeks. Before caressing it with his thumb “ Correct and tonight, you're going to learn what happens when you misbehave."

The air grew thick with anticipation, the soft lights casting a warm, flickering glow across their bodies. She got picked up with ease and placed on a brown leather couch. She was sitting on it as he stood above her. Chaewon felt the heat of his hand as it trailed down her neck, over her collarbone, and down to the swell of her breasts. She gasped, her body betraying her.

He chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine. "So eager," he murmured, he grabbed her short hair and forced her to look down, her black underwear had a very visible wet mark. Chaewon stared at it in shock. Why is her body liking this? He then had his thumb circling her hardened nipple through the fabric of her bra. "But I do have a rule for girls like you, no cumming until I say so."

Her eyes widened, and she felt a jolt of panic. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go, he was supposed to be the one begging, like every other guy she had been with. Not her, especially not on the couch just in the middle of a living room. But as his hands continued to explore her body, setting every inch of her on fire, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she had met her match.

Y/N's touch grew bolder, his fingers tracing the middle of her panty, teasing and taunting her. She squirmed, desperate for more, for the relief she knew he could give her. But he remained in control, his eyes never leaving hers as he toyed with her.

"More" she whispered, hating herself for the need in her voice.

A small smile appeared on Y/N’s face “what was that?” Chaewon did not want to repeat herself, but as he kept tracing his fingers just inches to where she wants it, her words came out without a thought

“More!” this time it was louder

He leaned down, his lips a mere breath away from hers. "Not yet," he said, his voice a soft growl. "I want to hear you beg just a little while longer. It will be good practice for what you will endure"

The humiliation burned, but the desire was stronger. Chaewon had never begged for anything in her life, but as his hand slid down to her soaking wet panties, she found herself doing just that. "Please!," she cried, her pride crumbling like sand.

Y/N's eyes gleamed with victory, and he finally gave her what she needed. His fingers slipped inside her easily, stroking her with a skill that had her back arching and her eyes rolling back in her head. It was never easy for her. The amount of fake orgasms she had to do was a number she wasn't proud of. But almost instantly she felt the beginnings of an orgasm build, her body tightening around him like a vice.

It felt amazing but just as she reached the peak, he pulled away, leaving her trembling and desperate. "Not yet," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You still haven't earned it."

The night had turned into a battle of wills, Chaewon's pride clashing with her desperation. She begged, she pleaded, she cursed, but he remained unflappable. He could hear it in her voice that her heart wasn't in it yet.. Each time she was brought to the edge, he would pull back, leaving her gasping for air and begging for release.

It was a dance of power, one she had never experienced before. And as much as she hated to admit it, she found herself enjoying the thrill of the chase.

Finally, in what felt like hours for Chaewon, the last piece of pride hanging on by a thread had snapped, the unbreakable had been broken and… 

She broke.

"Y/N please, I'll do anything!" she panted, her voice raw with need. "Please, let me cum. I can't take it anymore, you win, PLEASE!"

Y/N's smile was wicked as he leaned down, his breath hot against her skin. "Anything?"

Her nod was frantic. "Anything. Please Y/N! "

With a chuckle, he leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Then, my dear princess, prepare to be tamed."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she realized that she had no idea what she had just agreed to. But in that moment, with the storm outside mirroring the tumult within her, she didn't care.

He picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom with an ease that belied his strength. The rain pattered against the windows like a drumbeat, setting the rhythm for what was to come. He laid her down on his large bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly stripped away her remaining clothes.

The thunder rumbled in the distance, a prelude to the storm he was about to unleash on her. Chaewon felt her body respond, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was his, utterly and completely.

And she had never felt more alive.

Y/N's touch grew more insistent, his fingers delving into her wetness, stroking her until she was mindless with need. His lips followed the path his eyes had taken earlier, kissing and nipping at her skin. Each touch was calculated to drive her to the brink of insanity. Chaewon could feel the tension in the air thicken, coiling around them like a living thing.

Her breath came in desperate pants, her body arching towards him. "Please," she begged again, the word falling from her lips like a prayer.

He smirked, his eyes dark with lust. "Since you asked so nicely, I’ll shorten the time. Just hold on a little longer okay?" he murmured, his hand moving to her throbbing clit. He rubbed slow circles, the pressure just right, and she could feel the beginnings of a climax building. It was as if he could read her body like a book, knowing exactly where to touch to make her squirm.

But just as she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped again. Chaewon let out a wail of frustration, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. "You're going to cum when I say you can," he reminded her, his voice a low growl.

The power exchange was intoxicating, and she found herself eager to please him, to do whatever it took to earn her release. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the words, but they spilled out anyway. "I'll be good. I promise. I’ll even say sorry to Yunjin if that’s what she wants. I’m begging you please let me cum"

He chuckled, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal through her. "We'll see about that."

He began to speed up his touch on her again, she was dripping more than ever, his touch feather-light. Each stroke brought her closer to the precipice, until she was begging for more. "Please, Y/N," she whimpered, her voice barely audible over the rain.

Suddenly, she felt his fingers plunge deep inside her, and she lost control. Her body bucked against his hand and like a switch something clicked, without her choice she had the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced ripped through her, her inner walls clenching around his fingers her voice screaming as if she was in a climax of a song, but this climax was different than anything she had before. For the first time in her life, she squirted, the wetness soaking not only her legs but the bed beneath her and her master.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed with a hint of anger and amusement. "You weren't supposed to do that," he said, his voice tight.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the pleasure was too intense for her to care. "I couldn't help it," she gasped.

He then let her legs fall as he stepped away, slowly undressing his clothes while Chaewon can barely watch him, her vision foggy and her legs still shaking, but what she could make out was him placing his keys, wallet and his phone off to the side as if there isn't and trembling idol just behind him. Any thought was immediately pushed out of her mind.

He walked over, his cock, not the biggest but larger than any she had ever seen in real life, standing tall and proud. She didn't want to think about it but her mind goes to Yunjin, what the heck, she's been taking this monster?  " It seems you're going to need to be taught a lesson after all," he murmured.

Y/N took his position and sat behind the idol and let her lean on him, she felt his member rub against her back there’s no way Yunjin took that for fun. Now facing the wall Chaewon justn noticed the abnormally large mirror facing perfectly towards her. She felt a slap on her thighs indicating for her to spread them. Once open her legs were locked as Y/N used his own legs to secure the position. 

He started to rub her breast gently pinching and pulling each nub. “Why did you cum without permission?” He whispered directly to her ear. The idol had done plenty of interviews but this was a question she couldn’t answer. 

A loud smack was heard across the room as Chaewon failed to respond . A smack directly to her sensitive area. “AAGGH” she squealed. Why was the smack making her more wet? was the only thought in her mind before it was interrupted “That’s not the answer I want”

“I-I don’t know why it just happe-“ another smack across her pussy, the sound that came from it was different, her pussy was soaked, and now Y/N's left hand now snaked around and found itself onto Chaewon neck giving a light squeeze. 

In the reflection Chaewon saw his other hand lift up about to slap her lower region again but she forced out the only answer she could think of. 

“I came because I’m a bad girl” she saw his hand stop before she continued “I’m sorry for cumming, I’ll do better”

“Good, but you still need to get punished” he released her legs before giving one more slap to her pussy he knew she was ready again. 

“On your hands and knees, show that ass to me” Not like before when Chaewon would hesitate, she almost immediately used her remaining strength to get on her knees and her hand resting on the sheets. She looked up and could see herself in the mirror, a sight she had never seen.

“Y/N I’m still sensitive, please be gentl-

Without warning, he entered her aching pussy, filling her to the brim and then some. Chaewon screamed as her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him. He began to thrust, hard and deep, making sure to pull out just enough for Chaewon to think it was done before slamming back in, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the room.

He didn't relent, pushing her past any limit she thought she had. Each stroke brought a fresh wave of pain and pleasure, until she was a writhing mess beneath him, her nails digging into the bed. She could feel her orgasm building again, despite the fact that she had just cum.

"Y/N, If I cum again it will hurt" she begged, her voice hoarse. "I can't take it."

But he was relentless, he began to speed up his hips pistoning into her without mercy. "That the point baby. you came without permission," he grunted. "Now you're going to be punished."

Her body betrayed her, responding to his rough handling with a second orgasm that was even more intense than the first. She screamed his name, her muscles clenching around him as she squirted again, less than before as she was empty. but the sensation is still overwhelming.

He groaned, his own release imminent. But he held back, he flipped her so she's now facing him, his eyes boring into hers. "You're going to cum again and again until I'm done with you," he said, his voice a command.

The thought was too much, her body already so sensitive. But she could feel it, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. Placing her legs on both sides of his torso he positioned himself so he was above her, piling down with force and giving her no room to move as he fucked her through the aftershocks, his strokes unyielding and unforgiving.

"Please," she whimpered, the same word she would use earlier but now for a different reason. tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "I can't."

But she did. Over and over, this position made it easier for him to hit that spot that everyone craved to be abused. until she was a trembling mess, begging for him to stop. Her voice was raw, her body bruised and sore. But he didn't listen, not until she was so overstimulated that she was begging for mercy.

As Y/N was using his body weight to press down even deeper into the idol she felt another one coming but this time she felt like she was at her breaking point. As the orgasm drew closer she tried her best to avoid it.

“No no no please noo-AGGHHH ” she screamed as she felt it, the pain of another orgasm, her pussy squeezed so tight it almost made Y/N pull out but he kept hammering

Finally, Y/N leaned down, his face flushed with exertion and pleasure. "Where do you want me to cum?" he asked, his voice thick with arousal.

For a brief, prideful moment, Chaewon considered telling him to pull out, to prove that she wasn't his. But the feeling of him inside her, the way he filled her completely, was too much. Her body was singing with the need to be claimed. "Inside," she gasped, the words foreign to her mouth. "Please, I need it." She instinctively wrapped her legs around Y/N leaving no room to pull out.

He groaned, his eyes darkened with lust. "As you wish, princess" he murmured,before he pressed a searing kiss to Chaewon, his strokes growing erratic. And with a final, powerful thrust, he came deep inside her, his thrust getting slower with each pump.

At the same time not even a minute after her last one, Chaewon's orgasm crashed over her, she had never ever had anyone cum inside her, even with a condom, the sensation set her into spasms of pleasure and pain so intense she saw stars. The idols' abs cramped for a couple seconds and her body quivered uncontrollably around him , her nails digging into his back as she screamed his name. Her voice was hoarse. It was as if her entire being was made of pleasure, and she was shattering into a million pieces.

As the tremors subsided, she collapsed against the bed, her chest heaving. The room was quiet except for their harsh breathing and the steady patter of the rain outside.

Y/N pulled out of her, and she felt the warmth of his cum spill out, mixing with her own juices. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much to handle. He took his finger and scooped up the leaking cum before placing it in front of the pillow princess. She took his finger in her mouth tasting the cocktail that they made, her pussy pulsating at the taste.

As Chaewon lay there, sweaty, trembling, and panting, she barely registered that the sound of the rain had stopped. The rhythmic pitter-patter against the window, which had once mirrored the erratic beating of her heart, was now replaced by a heavy silence that enveloped the room. The air was thick with the remnants of their passion, hanging like a cloud of heat and electricity, while the dim light flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls that seemed to dance in time with their heavy, labored breaths.

Le sserafims leader felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way that was both terrifying and strangely comforting. The cool sheets beneath her stuck to her skin, clinging like a second layer, and every inch of her body hummed with a lingering sensitivity, as if it had been electrified from within. She could still feel the phantom touch of Y/N’s hands ghosting over her skin, their warmth and weight a reminder of how completely he had taken control. Her legs felt weak, barely able to hold any tension, while her arms lay limp at her sides, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from her.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened. The memory was a blur of sensation—hands gripping, bodies moving in perfect sync, his voice commanding, hers yielding in ways she never imagined possible. She had never given up control so willingly, never allowed herself to be led so fully by someone else. It was foreign, intoxicating, and the overwhelming pleasure that had coursed through her body like a tidal wave had left her utterly spent. But at the same time she had never had an orgasm let alone multiple so full, so powerful, so electric, in her life. The realization sent a fresh wave of shock through her. It was terrifying, being so completely vulnerable, so stripped of her usual defenses. Yet, it was exhilarating in a way she had never known before. As much as she hated to admit defeat, she couldn’t deny that Y/N had proven himself to be more than she could handle.

Y/N leaned over, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, the touch soft, almost reverent, and in stark contrast to the intensity he had shown earlier. "You did well," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a balm to her frayed nerves. "How did you feel? You know... being so obedient?" 

The words sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting before her mind could fully process the question. Obedient. It was a concept that felt alien to her—Chaewon, who had always been fiercely independent, always in control, now reduced to something so pliant, so willing. It was as foreign as the deep, bone-deep satisfaction that still thrummed through her body. And yet, she found herself nodding, unable to form words, unable to refuse him anything at this moment. The submission was startling and in that silence she smiled softly and nodded her head.

Y/n smiled at Chaewons response, petting her hair affectionately  before he slid out of bed, his body glistening with sweat under the soft light, muscles still tense from exertion. Chaewon’s gaze followed him as he moved, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his back, the way his shoulders flexed with each step. The absence of his warmth left her feeling exposed to the cold air in the room, and instantly, she missed his presence. The space between them felt like a chasm, though it was only mere feet, and her body still thrummed from the overstimulation he had caused. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts and emotions she didn’t know how to process—desire, confusion, fear, and a strange sense of relief all battled for dominance in her head.

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Her body tensed in anticipation, a flicker of excitement sparking in her chest as she expected him to rejoin her, maybe push her over the edge again. But instead, the sound of running water filled the room, calming and steady. A few moments later, Y/N returned, carrying a warm washcloth. The contrast in his demeanor from moments ago—when he had dominated her completely—was stark. Now, his touch was tender, almost reverential, as he pressed the cloth against her skin, gently wiping away the sweat and the remnants of their passion. 

Chaewon squirmed slightly when he reached her most sensitive areas, the sensation still sharp, and he chuckled lightly at her reaction. It was a sound that was both comforting and teasing, a reminder of the control he still held. Yet, there was a tenderness in the way he cared for her now that spread warmth through her chest, a feeling she didn’t quite know how to name. Was it gratitude? Trust? Or something deeper, more dangerous, that she wasn’t ready to confront?

As he finished cleaning her, he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did," he whispered, his voice low but firm, the words laced with a promise that sent a ripple of something dark and thrilling through her. "But don’t forget, you’re mine now." The possessiveness in his tone made her heart race anew, a reminder of the shift in power, of the new reality she had stepped into willingly. 

And with that, Chaewon knew she had entered a world she had never known before—a world where she might just find that being tamed was exactly what she needed. Her body, her mind, her very will had bent to his, and instead of fear, there was an undeniable sense of liberation in that. 

---

Across town, in the dimly lit dormitory of the Le sserafim girls, Yunjin sat in her bedroom, reclining comfortably on her bed. Her breath was steady, though her pulse still raced from the high of her own release. Her lips curled into a satisfied grin as she slowly pulled her hand away from the waistband of her underwear, her fingers glistening from the pleasure she’d just given herself. The feeling of euphoria mixed with a deep sense of triumph settled in her chest. She had been listening… to every word, every breath, every plea, and every sound that had unfolded between Y/N and Chaewon, all of it pouring through the open line on Y/N’s phone.

Perfect, she thought, as she brought her fingers to her lips, licking them clean, savoring the taste of her own satisfaction. The echo of Chaewon’s voice, her begging, her screams, and her cries replayed over and over in her head like a song she couldn’t get out of her mind. Each sound had fueled her own pleasure, bringing her to the edge and pushing her over it with such sweet satisfaction.

Yunjin’s body trembled with the aftershocks of her release as she stared at the phone screen, the call still running, the seconds ticking away in silence now that everything had played out. She savored the moment, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, and let the sense of power wash over her. Everything had gone exactly as she had expected. Chaewon was exactly where she needed to be—under control, vulnerable, and pliant.

With a final glance at the screen, Yunjin smirked, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. She tapped the screen to end the call, and as the screen went dark, she let her head fall back against the pillow, letting her sleep take over with a smile on her face.

[sleepy-owletz]

synopsis; when you call them by their first name. (pre-relationship)

ft; f.megumi, i.yuji, g.satoru, n.kento.

tags; jjk x reader, gn!reader, fluff, ooc, cringe.

ꗃ f.megumi

the clock ticked softly in the background as you sat across from megumi, a stack of textbooks between you. the dim light of the desk lamp cast a warm glow over the room, the atmosphere quiet except for the occasional scratch of pens on paper.

"oi megumi," you called softly, nudging your mug toward him. "could you get me a refill? just a little bit of coffee."

megumi barely looked up from his notes. "sure, give me a second." he reached for the mug without thinking, but then his hand froze midair. slowly, he turned to you, eyes narrowing slightly.

"what did you just call me?"

you blinked. "megumi...?"

his face betrayed a faint hint of surprise, though he quickly schooled his expression into neutrality. "you never call me by my first name."

"so?" you asked, feigning indifference, but the subtle twitch of your lips gave you away.

he stared at you for a moment longer before letting out a quiet huff. "fine. i'll get your coffee."

you smirked as he walked away, noticing the slight redness in his ears. when he returned and handed you the mug, he muttered under his breath, "if you're going to call me that, at least don't say it so casually."

"why?" you teased, taking a sip of the coffee. "does it bother you, megumi?"

his glare was unconvincing, the pink flush on his cheeks making it impossible to take him seriously. "just shut up and study."

ꗃ i.yuji

the cinema was buzzing with excitement, fans eagerly lining up to catch the latest blockbuster. you and yuji stood at the counter, debating which snacks to get.

"you sure you don't want popcorn?" he asked, holding up an absurdly large bucket.

"i'll just steal some of yours, yuji." you replied casually, scanning the drink options.

he froze, his eyes widening as he slowly turned to face you. "wait… did you just call me yuji?"

"yeah? that's your name, isn't it?" you replied, glancing up in confusion.

his face broke into the biggest grin you'd ever seen. "you never call me that! you always just say 'itadori' or something!"

"it's not that big of a deal," you mumbled, slightly flustered at how happy he looked.

"it is to me!" he said earnestly, clutching the popcorn bucket like it was a trophy. "you have no idea how cool that sounded. say it again!"

you rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed. "c'mon, yuji, let's grab our seats before the movie starts."

"twice in one night!" he exclaimed, trailing after you with an excited bounce in his step. "best day ever!"

ꗃ n.kento

you were used to quiet moments like these, sitting across from kento in the break room as you both sipped tea. he preferred these moments of calm over the usual chaos of the day. it was peaceful—until you broke the silence.

"kento, can you pass me the sugar?" you asked, your voice as soft as the clink of your cup on the table.

kento froze, his hand hovering above his own mug. slowly, his eyes flicked toward you, eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. "what... did you just say?"

you blinked at him, unsure what the fuss was about. "kento. that's your name, isn't it?"

he sat straighter, visibly taken aback. "yes, but you've never called me that before."

you shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. "i felt like trying it out. don't you like it?"

he opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it again, his expression carefully neutral. despite his best efforts, a slight pink hue crept up his neck. "it's... fine. just unexpected."

you couldn't resist teasing him further. "you're blushing."

"i am not," he said firmly, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

"sure you aren't," you replied with a chuckle, leaning back in your chair.

kento cleared his throat, determined to regain his composure. "if you're going to use my first name, at least don't make it sound weird."

"noted, kento," you said, emphasizing his name.

he sighed, adjusting his tie with a faint grumble. "somehow, i doubt you'll take that seriously."

ꗃ g.satoru

the jujutsu high campus was unusually quiet for once. you sat cross-legged on the grass, trying to enjoy the rare peace, but satoru had other plans.

"oi, what are you doing all the way over here?" his unmistakable voice called out before he plopped himself down next to you without invitation.

you sighed, already anticipating the chaos. "nothing, satoru."

he blinked, pausing mid-sentence as if your words had caught him off guard. "wait, hold on. did you just call me satoru?"

you raised an eyebrow. "since when is that a problem?"

his signature grin spread across his face, his sunglasses glinting in the sunlight. "aw, you're getting all cozy with me now, huh? first-name basis and everything!"

you rolled your eyes. "it's just a name. you're overreacting, moron."

"but it's kinda weird," he teased, leaning in dramatically as if to inspect you. "you're always so serious and proper. this is huge!"

"satoru," you deadpanned, "stop acting like a child."

"see? there it is again!" he clutched his chest as if you'd struck him with a love arrow. "hearing you say my name is like music to my ears. say it again."

"no."

"say it, and i'll buy you that fancy coffee you like."

you shot him a skeptical glance but couldn't hide the faint twitch of your lips. "satoru."

he gasped, clasping his hands together in mock joy. "ah, perfection! my name has never sounded so good!"

"are you done?" you asked, standing up to leave.

"not even close," he replied, springing to his feet and trailing after you like a shadow. "now, should i start calling you by your first name too? or do you prefer some cute nickname—"

you groaned, walking faster. "why did i even bother?"

behind you, satoru chuckled, clearly enjoying every second. "because you secretly like me, obviously!"

a/n; my favorite is gumi. he was such a blast to write. (i was kicking my feet and giggling like a maniac) sry it took me so long though, i kinda lost my motivation for a bit smh.

© sleepy-owletz works. reposting or translating without permission will be considered theft.

[shapelytimber]

Ok hear me out.......... wlw Wilhuff Tarkin and Orson Krennic-

the dynamic very much is unhinged creative vs rigid control freak in a context of evil bureaucracy- and personally the context is why I love to read stories with imperials jdjdkd nothing is more crack cocaine literature for me than to make drama in a space office filled with awful people

More flavor text and me trying to sell you on why this ship of two truly terrible people is great below vvv

For Krennic, lean more into the evil genius artist. She's been up for 46 hours straight drawing schematics, she's rambling about incomprehensible shit, her only meals have been cigarettes and energy drinks, she's so full of herself she might one day think she's god, she's gonna die by 60. She doesn't care much about the politics of the empire, but they don't bother her either. She works for the imperials because they have a lot funds to give to engineers willing to build them a battle station the size of a moon capable of blowing up planets. Before that she worked on a lot a architectures on imperial center/Coruscant.

The imperial uniforms are a bit boring- so I'm taking full advantage of the fact Krennic is more of an engineer/architect to tweak her uniform a bit (and the cape was already not respecting regulations sooooo) For Tarkin I'm keeping it tho, this woman won't be caught dead without it.

For Tarkin, lean less into the whole buff survivalist aspect- she very much was in her youth, but she *is* a 65 year old woman based on *Peter Cushing*, and has been in a very high and prestigious position within the empire for the past 20 years. She still as an extensive knowledge on how to survive in nature, and fight with her bare hands or a knife, but that doesn't come up very often in her line of work anymore. She still killed a space bear unharmed when she was like 17 tho. She hates chaos and developed the main philosophy that drove the empire to this day : to govern with fear and impose order. She is a bloodthirsty woman in her sixties, with a never ending hunger for power, currently cheating on her wife with a coworker she hates.

They both love the death star more than they tolerate each other, but they did end up bonding over plotting the demise of one coworker they couldn't stand and digging out rebel spies. Make no mistake tho, this is very much a love triangle/trouple between two women and a giant battle station.

In the end, Tarkin killed Krennic by shooting her from orbit with the death star, the project was finally finished, she didn't need her anymore and she might have gotten in the way of her control of the station.

Tarkin dies a few days later during the battle of Yavin, along the death star, not willing to back down in her moments of glory.

PS : a lot of this is inspired by the fic "Propagating structure" by oneinspats ! it's what made me like and understand this pairing, and is truly a great work of fiction. I really think this fic is a masterful work when it comes to expending the character of Krennic, and extrapolating on existing things. Exploring his more creative side, his passion for his work, his truly abysmal lifestyle, giving him a hatred of nature and a background as an architect on Coruscant. While also keeping his horrific aspects, like reading his internal (or external) monologues sometimes makes my skin crawl with how disgusting his ideas are and how deep they run, but making him an interesting and compelling protag for the story. While all of it is surrounded by this delicious dramatic irony, because we know that no matter how hard they try to scheme (or fuck), the death star will blow up and it's incredible.

[lovemomhatepolice]

(my) world champion - max verstappen

navigation taglist requests

pairing: max verstappen x fem! reader

warnings: established relationship, cursing, p in v, pet names, English is my second language!

type: smut!with small plot

word count: 2k

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER, las vegas gp

summary: it's time to deal respectively with the winner of the fourth championship

more content: formula 1 masterlist, max verstappen masterlist

a/n: I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and my first thousand celebration

Las Vegas was noisier than ever before. Bright lights and colorful neon signs lit up the paddock. Noise caused by people who were celebrating. The night was amazing - and although Russell, Hamilton and Sainz stood on the podium, the eyes of most were on Max Verstappen. Vegas was not in his favor, but what it gave him was a fourth championship title.

Fireworks burst in the distance, showering the sky in golden sparkles. Cameras flashed, champagne sprayed, and his Red Bull team surrounded him with hugs and cheers. But through the chaos, Max’s eyes searched for only one person.

And then he saw you.

You stood on the side, waiting for Max to finish celebrating with his team. You were as happy as ever, wearing a jacket with his name on it, which you proudly displayed. This was your second time to stand by Max's side, celebrating with him this greatest of all possible victories. This year it was even more exciting - after all, there were as many as seven race winners, while the year before, besides your boyfriend, only two managed to break through.

Max walked away from his team, making his way through the reporters who insisted on getting his attention at least for a moment. When he reached you, the noise around you faded into the background. You smiled at each other, simply standing and looking into each other's eyes. It didn't take much to realize how close and important you are to each other.

“You made it,” you said quietly, and your voice trembled with emotion as you reached out to touch his face. “Four times, Max. You're amazing.”

He smiled, and adrenaline was still bubbling inside him as he drew you into his arms. “We did it,” he corrected, his voice muffled by your hair. “I couldn't have done it without you. All this time you've shown me that I'm more than just a man driving around the track”

“Oh stop, or my makeup will run off,” you laughed lightly, pulling away from him just enough to look into his eyes. Max focused all his attention on you. He didn't give a damn that there were people around who he should be interviewing. He didn't give a damn that there was even more formal business ahead of him. The moment he had you in his arms, he thought of nothing else. “And to me you'll still be the most beautiful,” he muttered, smiling at you. His hands moved to your cheeks and without a rush, he drew you even closer to him. Your lips joined in a sweet kiss. Your hands wandered over his collar from the suit he was still wearing. In the background you could hear cheers and photographers taking pictures of you, but this time it didn't bother you, you were already used to it. As soon as you felt his smile against your lips, you moved slightly away from him, but your foreheads were still connected.

"I love you the most, Max"

~~~

Inside the luxurious suite, Max reclined on the plush sofa, sliding his head onto the backrest. The faint clink of the champagne glass in your hand caught his eye and elicited a small smile as he looked in your direction.

“You did it again,” you muttered, and your voice was filled with admiration. “Four times. You make it look so easy.”

Max couldn't take his eyes off you. And even though you were already without makeup and your hair was already slightly curled, he thought you were the most beautiful thing that evening. You were wearing his shirt from the celebration, which was too big for you, but that was the whole charm. Surrounded by the lights of the city, you headed toward him.

“Easy?” he laughed, crossing his gaze with yours. “Certainly not with you distracting me from the side.”

You giggled quietly, setting your glass down on the table, then sat on his lap. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, combing through the faint stubble. “You love it,” you purred close to his lips until they met in the process.

“I love you,” Max replied, and his hands found their way to your hips, quickly finding a rhythm together.

Max's hands explored your body, memorizing every curve, just as he memorizes every turn of the track. Each kiss was unhurried, each touch purposeful, as if you had all the time you needed for each other.

Max's fingers entwined in your hair, tugging gently as your lips clung to his. The faint taste of champagne lingered between you, reminding you of the celebration just hours ago. This time the kiss was deeper, hungrier, as if you were pouring all the emotions bubbling inside you into it. His hands slid lower, grasping your buttocks and pulling you closer until there was no more space between you.

You didn't even notice when you found yourself in the middle of the bed in your hotel bedroom. It was even darker here, with only the golden lights from the street illuminating the room.

“You are mine tonight,” he said, his voice firm but laced with tenderness as he laid you gently on the large bed, his body pressing against yours.

“I've always been yours, Max,” you replied, and your voice trembled with both love and anticipation. “And I always will be.”

Max's eyes softened, and his intense gaze stopped on you as his hands roamed your body, each touch igniting the fire between you. He took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction - your sharp breath, the way your back arched under his touch, the way your hands gripped his as if you couldn't bear to let go.

You didn't wait any longer. In a heated kiss, your hands reached the faucets of his shirt, exposing his trained chest. You stopped your gaze on him for a moment, looking hungrily at your boyfriend.

Max smiled at your reaction, his confidence rising as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Do you like what you see?" he teased you in a low and hoarse voice, causing you to shudder.

“Mhm,” you muttered, rising slightly from the bed.

Now the two of you were in one straight line, looking into each other's eyes. The room was filled with your uneven breathing, which grew louder with each passing moment. You could see that the way you were moving at the same time forcing Max to lie down on the bed by himself, as you had moments before, was bringing him out of the control he had just built up for himself. Rarely did Max lose control, and she relished the power she had over him at that moment.

You moved your hands down his torso, and your fingers followed the hard lines of his abdomen, tracing the contours with a slow, deliberate touch that made him breathe rapidly.

Your hands quickly found their way to the buckle of his pants, unbuttoning them as quickly as you removed his shirt. Along with his pants went his boxers, too, freeing him all over. His excitement was already evident, and the way your eyes lit up with mischief made his chest tighten. He propped himself up on his elbows to get a perfect view of you.

“You're too good for me,” muttered Max, his voice strained as you wrapped your hand around him. Your touch was light and teasing, too much for him.

“You deserve it,” you replied, then leaned in to place a kiss on the tip of him, and your tongue slid out to taste him.

Max's head fell back against the pillows behind him, and a low moan escaped his lips as you took him into your mouth. Your movements were slow and deliberate at first, and your tongue swirled around him as you explored every inch of him.

“God, you're perfect,” muttered Max, entwining his hands in your hair as you took him deeper.

You set a steady rhythm, your hand working at pace with your lips, looking at him through your lashes. The sight of you in such a state, so eager to please him, made his stomach clench with desire.

“That's right,” he groaned, and his voice was filled with pleasure.

Encouraged by his reaction, you increased your pace, your movements becoming more confident as you puffed out your cheeks and let him slide deeper into your throat. Max's hips moved involuntarily, and his body was overwhelmed by the sensations as he muttered curses under his breath. You licked slowly along his length, and your eyes never left his face.

You felt him approaching the edge, so you slowed down and your lips slowly moved away from his. Max hissed under his breath, looking at you with a mischievous smile, in which displeasure also prevailed.

“Don't be like that,” he muttered, looking at your lips next to his craving red member.

You giggled quietly before taking it back into your mouth, your tongue working expertly as you brought it closer to the edge. Max's breaths became faster, and his grip on your hair tightened as his muscles tensed. Max's moans soon gave their vent, his body trembled, and your mouth flooded with his cum. You swallowed it all, and your hands continued to work around him, helping him come down through the aftershocks.

Max was quickly over you, leaving you no longer in any clothes. His movements were quick and decisive, but gentle on you. It was as if he had the greatest prize in front of him, and yet it wasn't long before he won something else.

There was a warm smile on his lips and his body tensed from restrained desire. His weight pressing you against the plush mattress was grounding, but every touch made you float. His hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to leave a memory, drawing you closer until there was no space left between you.

His movements were slow at first. He tried to pick the perfect pace for you, but he didn't speed anything up, gently teasing you, seeing as you were impatiently pushing your own hips out to meet him. You arched your back, and his body instinctively pressed you against him. Max kissed you tenderly, but at the same time it was very intense, even making you dizzy - the best of your life. His hands moved over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist, trying to memorize every little part of your body, even though he already knew it so perfectly. Like a favorite circut he was never wrong on.

“God, [Y.N.],” he breathed, his voice strained as he tried to maintain control.

Max shifted slightly, adjusting your position to push in deeper, hitting a spot that made you moan into the hollow of his neck, and your fingers quickly went to his neck, pressing him harder against you.

“Let me,” he muttered, looking into your eyes. “I've got you.”

His hand wandered between the two of you, circling around your swollen clit, which was begging for attention. Because of the feelings you were experiencing, you practically screamed into his neck, crying from the pleasure. His words were your undoing.

The orgasm gripped you so hard that your body trembled under his heavier muscular body, which continued to smell of champagne. You clung to him, and your breathing picked up speed, turning into desperate gasps. Max came a moment after you, spilling inside you and creating quite a mess on the mattress beneath you.

You were both panting loudly, trying to catch your breath, but all you were able to do was laugh quietly. Max placed gentle kisses all over your face, ending with your lips. In his eyes flashed those beautiful skylights you hadn't seen in a long time through the pursuit of mastery.

“I've got you champion,” you purred, kissing him once again on the lips and smiling at the same time.

You could finally have a break from all the hype for a while, until the next season, where everything was going to start all over again, as it had for the past few years.

“For you I would even be able to give up the title,” he muttered, looking into your eyes.

And even though you didn't want to believe it, let alone for it to be true - you knew he was sincere.

A/N: God, I won't even hide how much I already want to end the season of smut. i have so many cool fluff stories that i want to publish!!! but it's my first time writing for max - i hope it went well

although I kept my fingers firmly crossed for Lando in this battle for the title of champion - congratulations to Max, he deserved it! May the next season bring us as much excitement as this one

I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and in my celebration to the first thousand!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[sahisan]

— curiousity killed the cat.

featuring . pm!dazai osamu.

tags . suggestive, so slight nsfw. civilian!gn!reader. dazai's a bit sick. just pmzai things yk (he's scary). weapons described (he has a gun). blood mentioned. gunplay mentioned (brief suggestive description). wc 1.8k.

author note . this is so random i don't even know if the paragraphs do well together bc i just poured my most random thoughts into it and i was sleepy and barely managed to proofread it. yep. i imagined mostly 20-22!pmzai here. continuation kinda here.

dazai hid many things. he hid them well; years of being on constant standby, awaiting, on guard about anything enemy or not related. he hid in the shadows no matter day or night, but the shadows didn't always necessarily mean him only scrambling around in narrow alleyways or in the safety of the headquarters—in reality, he spent little time in the latter, nor did he 'lurk in the shadows' often, unless on a mission.

he hid everything from everyone, including you; of course including you. and the thing that bothered him the most was you finding out about what he does. did. has done. keeps on doing every day. not only does he not want the port mafia's countless enemies to know about you, but dazai also dreads the thought of you getting even a little bit closer to the truth of what he does for a living. he thinks of how he might slip one day and just reveal his true nature, intentionally or not, and either let you be disgusted and scared or kill you immediately because you might report to the police; it bothers him in both ways.

dazai avoids the area of your home when out at work. he makes sure to put on some casual clothes before visiting your place. when things are bad, work routine and you colliding together closer to night, he makes sure to hold a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his inner pocket to quickly wash away the stains of blood from his clothes. he keeps a bit of cologne there as well, to hide the stench of blood he usually reeks of during the day—he doesn't even use cologne daily. if you need him right after work, he disposes of his weapons, giving them away to the underlings that follow his word.

everything is always under control.

like tonight. he'd had a "kill and dispose" assignment, after which he'd had to go to yours and spoil you with a movie night he promised you. ah, the long-awaited respite from everyday bloodshed.

yet he was still on guard; he always has been, but today was busy and rough and all he needed was your embrace and a movie as a background noise while he showered you with kisses and cuddled you with neverending hugs.

and dazai forgot.

already at your doorstep, already having ringed the bell by your front door when dazai looked down at himself and—

fuck.

there was a small but clear blood stain right next to his tie. ah. how great. he definitely won't have time to remove it, but he might try to win some time to divert your attention from it if you notice—and you will, if he doesn't do anything about it.

with the door opening, dazai threw himself at you, literally waltzing into your apartment, hip to hip, your left hand in his right and his left hand at your waist, he led you through the corridor in an almost hasty improvisation of a dance, causing his tie to sway just in the right direction and have you giving him a look that screamed "you and your antics again?". good.

"ah, you look especially divine tonight," he mused, nuzzling your neck and making you place your chin on his shoulder; very good, the stain was out of your sight at least for now, and he couldn't be happier about that. "i haven't had dinner yet but i already know what i want for dessert."

distract. distract and avert and keep away—best tactic of dazai's that rarely failed, and he was used to putting it to use everywhere he could, including you. you could be perceptive or gullible, didn't matter—it worked wonders on anyone and will continue working for as long as he wanted to.

dazai swayed you around a few more times, dancing his way into your living room while humming a nauseatingly sweet, random tune he made up in his head a second ago. hip against yours again, he let a content smirk wash over his lips.

a clank. soft, quiet sound of metal clanking once echoed through the room, and it was almost eerie silence aside from his barely audible humming just as his hipbone met yours.

that didn't sound good, considering the only thing on his hip was—

ah. dazai forgot two things tonight.

in reverie about cursing himself head to toe in his mind, he lost the sensation of your touch until it felt too suspicious and he was too late, you reaching for the side hem of his coat and tugging it away from his side to reveal it to the light. you were always so curious, and he couldn't tell whether it was bad or good for him in general.

the soft clink echoed once more as your fingers grazed the object, and his eyes narrowed. the gun. shit. in his distracted state, he'd forgotten to dispose of it along with wiping away the blood.

dazai's hand shot out from beneath the coat, and he knew he wasn't doing himself a favor by raising his hand to grab yours, only revealing the holster further, but he didn't necessarily give a shit right now. he ought to do more than care about the gun right now, like a proper boyfriend, first being calming you down and assuring you it's not loaded and isn't as scary as it looks and that you shouldn't be afraid and the second being change of course of the conversation so seamlessly that you forget about the weapon for the rest of the night at least (unfortunately, the last sentence never crossed his mind).

but when did dazai ever go according to an adequate plan?

his hand held yours in the air, palm gliding up and down your inner forearm, trying to, first, soothe every negative emotion that might come up on the surface of your face, as well as keeping your curious hand away.

"ah-ah-ah, how naughty," dazai purred, voice dripping with false sweetness even as his eyes glinted with dangerous amusement; what he was supposed to be doing absolutely slipped from his thoughts the second he sensed the quickening of your heartbeat and breath and the cautious halting and tensing of your body against his, and he was already getting hard just from this. sick. "what did i tell you about wandering hands, hmm?"

he ground his hips against yours once after that, letting you feel the growing hardness in his pants. distraction. that was the key. keep you focused on his body, on the pleasure he could give you, and you'd forget all about that pesky gun in no time.

“careful there, baby. wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself,” he said with a twisted, growing grin. his other hand, previously holding your left one, slid away from it to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your jawline in a mockery of tenderness, visible eye looking down at your mouth.

"i'd hate to see those pretty lips marred by blood."

and yet, once he'd lifted his eyes up to yours, dazai could feel you tense under his touch, heart racing beneath your skin. he knew that look in your eyes, that widening of your pupils; he was all too familiar with it. fear. he had been so focused on the thrilling, twisted satisfaction the situation brought him momentarily, that he hadn't noticed how his actions were affecting you. his grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your inner wrist.

dazai sighed, deciding it was time to stop scaring you with both his demeanor and the weapon, even if it wasn't what he wanted right now at all; he had a switch to pull off, an appearance to keep up in front of you. ah, but how he'd love to prolong that moment for just a little longer: your fear palpable in the air, that scared glance you cast at him once, the trembling of your hands, hitch in your breathing and increase of your heartbeat.

maybe later.

"easy, easy," he murmured, voice low and soothing even as his mind raced. he tapped the holster twice. "it's not loaded, see?" a lie. "just a little souvenir," a lie. the gun was always loaded, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice, but you surely didn't need to know that. he'd already subjected you to more horror than a civilian would need to witness.

dazai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "you know i'd never be involved with these types of things and would never hurt you, right?" honey-sweet, dripping with false sincerity words. what he was absolutely best at was lying and manipulating, and he couldn't even control it anymore; if he needed you to believe, he will make you believe, one way or another.

"but you also shouldn't go poking around where you don't belong," he purred lowly with an audible dangerous lilt to his tone, lips now moving lower and ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "who knows what kind of trouble you might find yourself in. curiosity killed the cat, you know. you never know when you'll be the cat. and I'm not sure i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dazai could try to keep you away from his sicko tendencies and mind and thoughts that were all over the place and mingled together; the thoughts of protecting you from all of this meeting the ones of putting that gun to better use that just shooting people. and right now, he was barely holding it all in.

think of it this way: the thoughts of keeping his precious favourite civilian away from the corrupted knowledge and pain and feeling you tremble in fear underneath him, with the barrel of his gun tracing over your bare skin and getting dangerously close to where you'd need him most? oh, did the latter make dazai's stomach contort with desire and hips buckle up into yours. he would have to think more clearly about this later when his head wasn't a wreck of everything at once, but now...

"you want to play with something hard, baby?" dazai murmured in the end, all sultry and beaming with desire. "i'll give you something much better than a piece of metal to wrap your pretty fingers around."

dazai was sick and his mind twisted and he didn't get how he could ever keep someone like you by his side, but he supposed it was fate; and for as long as fate was merciful to him, he would make good use of it.

"but behave, hmm?"

[queers-gambit]

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

[sayuri-of-the-valley]

On how Crowley and Aziraphale felt during the kiss (but mainly Crowley here):

Ok so first, the main idea for this huge meta is that a LOT of us noticed how the music from the kiss scene is similar to the nebula one, right?

Second, a lot of us also correctly noticed the parallels between the kiss and how it was to taste food for the first time for Aziraphale: bc of his reactions, the hand on lips, the similar way MS acted both scenes, the little inhale etc. So how was it for Crowley?

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss is practically a puzzle to solve on its own, so it's fun to analyse it, but basically, in a few words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley and he discovered he was physically starving for him, longing for him, yearning for him, for his kiss, and he had no idea. Just like with the ox. And now he needs to gorge himself in him but he can't. Great amazing heartbreaking chef's kiss someone give MS an Emmy.

But there's already so much amazing meta out there about Aziraphale x Ox ribs x The Kiss that I want to focus on Crowley here, and on the music.

So back to the music. The song in "Before the Beginning" and the song that plays during The Kiss (I Forgive You + Don't Bother) are so similar. They're not *exactly* the same, but they're totally reminiscent of each other. The viewer is immediately reminded of those chords that played in the opening scene. It's no coincidence that the fandom was talking about this fact only minutes after first watching those final fifteen minutes. This is an obvious intentional choice for storytelling reasons (David Arnold is a genius).

I have no expertise whatsoever when it comes to music, so I asked our friend @otsanda to see if that made sense and not only it does and she explained it, but she also uncovered so much more hidden meaning in all of it (musicians are amazing), so check out her meta about the music that not only serves as evidence to what I'm proposing here but it also has so much more juicy information in it 💖.

Back to the point: WHY thought? Why choose a similar song? Why intentionally COMPOSE a similar song for that moment?

Hear me out. WHAT IF, by reminding the audience of the creation of the nebula, they meant to convey to us that, for Crowley, kissing Aziraphale gave him the same feeling that creating his stars did?

THAT'S what the music is telling us. THAT'S why it makes us remember "Before the Beginning". It may sound cheesy, but Crowley may have literally seen stars when he kissed Aziraphale. He couldn't react accordingly (just like Aziraphale couldn't), bc it was an overwhelming and extremely sad moment (the music is also telling us that) for both of them. They knew it was ending . They were both having a moment of huge revelation that was fated to not come to completion. Crowley was right, it was too late.

It makes sense to show Crowley's feelings through the music, bc he was the one who started the kiss, and also he was wearing sunglasses in that scene, it's different from a character like Aziraphale that has all his million expressions for everyone to see at all times. And they've been doing this ever since s1 with the Queen songs that play in his car or in the background.

So my point is: the same song being used there makes me wonder if kissing Aziraphale finally gave him what he lost. His purpose. What Aziraphale was trying to give back to him by taking him back to heaven. There's no need for Heaven. Just kiss him, Aziraphale, and there he'll find the stars you want to give back to him. There you will one day see that smile on his face you saw Before The Beginning. Neil Gaiman and David Arnold I am in your walls 😭

This is what may lead us to see this happiness in Crowley again (not the action of kissing itself, of course, but what it represents to their relationship, them being together, them being an Us).

As @otsanda said: from the music we can interpret that that moment was a Revelation for them. Almost a religious experience. Crowley found his purpose again. What he'd been missing the whole season (or even his whole life since the Fall, but we've seen him especially depressed this season).

I'm not even getting into the poetry of how one can interpret the parallel to the angel's reaction to the kiss as carnal, and the demon's as religious; that would be another whole essay but let's just agree that it's incredibly beautiful. (Let me be clear that I mean here Aziraphale's reaction is carnal specifically for Crowley, and Crowley's is religious specifically for Aziraphale, not religious as in "worshipping god")

"Do you ever wonder what's the point?" Crowley asked in s2e1. The point, for him, is Aziraphale (if you've seen The Good Place you know what I mean). I hope he figured this out with that kiss, even as heartbreaking as it was. Even if it was a (temporary) separation kiss. (I hope Aziraphale figures this out with time too, that he's more than enough to make Crowley happy, that Crowley doesn't need Heaven, or stars, that Crowley needs him.)

Maybe that's why Crowley didn't leave and kept waiting outside until the very last moment.

Aziraphale and Crowley both bit the apple at the end of s2. There's no turning back from that Knowledge now.

Edit: I just have to add here this brilliant colour analysis of the nebula scene by @halemerry. And it's pointed out that during the nebula formation there's a moment when it looks like two people embracing. And the fact that a similar song is used in the actual Kiss scene I just... I have no words