#I would go back in time just to take a chance with you

[pomegranate-eater]

Phainon has a dream. cw: fingering, public sexual acts in the field, afab reader, fluff.

“You’re breathtaking when you’re like this…” Phainon murmurs against your ear. The voice comes from behind you, while you feel yourself drown into his broad chest your back is rested against. You both swim, actually; in the field of wheat, as it is the place where no one can disturb you two. It was just a few joys ago that the tunic of yours was bunched up and your garments pulled to the side. Now the legs that trap you from both sides are the only barrier concealing your below-waist nudity, after Phainon has stolen you to rest with him amidst the sunny land.

Except, said voice and nature are not all of the audible sounds in the open — the way his hand between your thighs lazily plays with your outsides and insides forces your wetness to be stirred in teasing to register for ears smacks. It’s all you can wrap your mind about besides how those fingers do you extraordinarily well — two are thrusting and curling in your soaked and constricting walls, while the heel of his palm rested on your mound keeps hitting your bud repeatedly. The arm draped across your front also allows you little escape, while the other makes sure to hold at least one of your shaky and sensitive limbs from closing.

“Phainon…” you whimper, needy yet wary... if not agitated from your desperation for release, as well. Your unadjusted gaze keeps the duty of taking in your surroundings to be on guard against any possible viewers. While the body wants to reach the highest of pleasures, the mind screams you are scared of this closeness disappearing too soon.

The calm sea that peeks through the golden crops feeds your tongue with salty air, the shuffle of wheat lulls you further into his manipulation, the house you two live in is in piece, and the familiar warmth of your lover leads you to believe you are still safe — nothing has changed, but the tension he's been building up lingers. Gathering wheat into your hands is all that you can do in order to ground yourself.

“Shh… I’ve told you, it’s just the two of us here. It’s my secret spot- or should I say, it's ours now,” he reassures with a loving laugh buried in and reverberating across nape, endeared by your vulnerability. As if to reward you for your patience with his slowness and bravery to be so exposed for him in the world’s rawness, his fingers hasten their pace and dig deeper into your body.

You moan — barely, as you remain prudent — and he smiles. “Feels wonderful, doesn’t it?” You nod, the back of your head against pressing tighter his shoulder when a nevralgic spot is grazed inside; as much as this question isn’t about this hedonistic comfort being the only possible truth.

You can feel your sweet release hanging and threatening to erupt between your legs, nestled under his eager hand, and he at once encourages you to let go. “It’s alright. I won’t deny you anymore…” it’s a soft promise made with a kiss as soft, right below your ear.

“So you do admit you were teasing me?” you manage to say amidst your whines and muffled groans, almost angry you had to endure his playfulness; but you’re not really mad at him, as you could never truly be that about your Phainon.

“Would you scold me if I said it’s more about prolonging our moment, even if you are not being given all that you want?” the way he speaks is gentle and you are incapable of reprimanding his approach. “Each chance is too precious to be ending soon.”

“Not if you finally…” your breathless reply is interrupted. Or rather, you deliver a clear answer as you finally finish on his fingers. It is him who’s cautious this time, the other hand quickly clamping your mouth. It’s a shame he has to be robbed of his name on your lips, but he’s not done with you yet to be letting other villagers know you’re hiding with him here.

The next thing you know, you’re on your back, the wheat's fibers poking and tickling your skin from below your fabrics. He’s protective, as the land is softened with a hand under your head. It’s just the bronze plants that accomplish entangling your hair, and you punish them by pulling at them with your growing anticipation once more.

“Will you allow me to have my own share of feeling wonderful?” That mischievous hand next rubs you between your folds, electrifies what’s already overwhelmed, and as your head tilts back with one more pleasure, all you could think about is how much more you want.

When you nod, he’s quick to be selfish himself, bottoms shoved down in a blink of an eye. Phainon is letting you know how much he needs you, and you appreciate that by wrapping your legs around his hips, entrapping your lover so he shall never leave.

“You’re beautiful. I can’t believe you’re here with me. Please, don’t you ever look away from me,” his desperate words are not a plea, but a wish you feel obligated to fulfill. You don’t look away from him now, and you want to maintain that promise in every future sense. Even as you feel the hot and hard intrusion and your hips taunted with a tight grip, your eyes abide faithfully to his ocean and reverent ones.

One thrust inside and the sole saltiness on your tongue is now his happy tears.

[jan-pipijan]

ok this is a follow on from my last post about Theodora (ik i called her aliya in the last post but i realized while writing this one that theodora works better), a woman priest in a fallout like post apocalypse.

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/restaurant)

for being in public she'd stay sober, so i suppose something like a shirley temple, assuming there's ginger ale and grenadine. im going to assume that most of the time thats not available, so then it'd probably be something very low proof. if she's at someone's house and they dont have a way to purify water she'd probably teach them how to make a simple charcoal and sand filter.

if she's at some bar/restaurant she's probably either eating, evangelizing, or socializing. if she's just out with friends she'll probably drink some, maybe even get a little drunk but she'd probably keep a lid on it. while im thinking about her drinking i could see her taking the loss of her priest/mentor pretty hard and spending some more time at the bar. if she's eating by herself she's probably in her own world and will just ask for water with whatever she's eating, also theres a very good chance she'd be working on something or other. if she's evangelizing then she's definitely staying as sober as she can, but if the person she's talking to is drinking she might order something alcoholic but low proof.

2. What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

for a post apocalypse they bathe surprisingly often, before mass on sunday morning. they also make their own soap and shampoo with animal fat that they get from hunters and butchers as tithe.

to get to the meat of the question tho, she's may take a little worse care of herself than most folks, she doesnt have these words for it, but she has what we would call ADHD and autism so she's prone to hyper focus and forgetting to eat regularly.

3. What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

i am Very excited to answer this one, bc the question itself is wrong.

in short (this was going to be shorter as i went to get some food, but its actually plenty long already) in the local community, most folks are subsistence farmers and hunters (she herself is from a farming household) but ever since she "flew the nest" as we would say, she's been either training under the local priest or has been the local priest.

in post apocalyptic conditions, any strong communities that arent just a single family unit would have alot less 'tit for tat' bartering than you would think, and would mostly work on the idea of "ill help you when you need it because i know youll help me when i need it". in her town (which for writing purposes will just be my home town) most folks would be farmers, and anyone who isnt a farmer would be some kind of specialist in this or that trade (hunters, butchers, tanners, leatherworkers, smiths, brewers, &c.). as a priest in this community Theodora (Theta) would likely serve her community in Several ways; most recognizably she would be leading mass and teaching the community (her parishioners) important skills for living in the post apocalypse (passed down through generations as a means of keeping the community afloat). on top of the normal "love God love your neighbor dont demand people pay you back if you give them something" she would also be giving practical advice couched in (what we would call) religious language; skills like crop rotation, water purification, even folk medicine.

of course, given that she is helping her parishioners survive in the wasteland, her parishioners would help her live as she needs: providing her food and drink; helping with upkeep for the church; farmers may give her grain or bread for the Eucharist, brewers may help her find wine or may even give her wine if they have a vineyard; maybe even some of the youth in town would be acolytes (basically the priest's apprentice) to ensure that when Theta dies, someone will be able to fill her role in the community. (i could go into a tangent about the place of death in a community like this, but i wont. suffice it to say: theres a reason that the Anointing of the Sick is a sacrament and that its listed before holy orders and matrimony.)

that's all before we really get into her role as a 'magic' specialist; she would probably spend time blessing folks homes, storehouses, farms, tools, &c. or how she would probably be keeping the best track of the passing of time so she can know what days are holy days, therefore allowing her to help the farmers keep track of the passing of seasons. and taking care of the spiritual (and likely mental) needs of her parishioners.

all that to say; she takes care of and helps organize, unite, and educate the community, and her community helps take care of her in return.

for any normal person, that would be an exhausting job, but, Theta has been touched by God and chosen from among her people to serve God and them (she is very autistic and gains enough energy from the tedious bookish parts of being a priest to serve her community)

well... thats more than i thought i would write about that.

4. Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory) 

oh absolutely. scars are far more common in the wasteland than they are here and she's less likely to notice when she's injured anyway so she absolutely has a whole bunch of scars.

im not so sure about tattoos. i could see tattoos surviving the bombs, but in the town i think tattooing would have to be rediscovered. im sure there's somewhere in town to get tattoos. that being said modern tattoo machines need electricity so unless someone (some wired nerd w/ old world blues) gets that working they might not be all that common. i feel like if someone was scrounging through the town looking for old world novelties theta would help them. also once tattoos are a thing theta would 100% one honoring her mentor and maybe some about faith and time, maybe a memento mori

5. What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.) 

oooh, maybe this is getting into spoilers, but im the writer so its ok. after theta's priest died (i should get that man a name) she went to "talk to the bartender" about it; the bartender, recognizing theta was in a Bad Place™ recommended she go talk to the (technically catholic but whatever) priest in the next town over (which is actually the bartender's hometown (she left for backstory reasons)). theta went, cried, learned about catholic last rites (i think the last rites in the BCP could do better),

6. Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

probably a middle child of a small handful (ive decided her dad left her mom when she was pretty young and she was raised mostly by her mom, but also she spent alot of time at church as a kid which is how she became the priest's apprentice).

over all families as a social unit would be alot more relevant then than they are now, just because capitalists benefit from the atomization of the family. over all in that respect the town would be the historical norm where this society (and especially the US) is the fucked up outlier

7. Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

theres a joke in Only Fools & Horses where the road sweeper, trigger, has gotten an award for using the same broom for 20 years, therefore saving the local counsel money. when his friends doubt that a broom could last that long, trigger helpfully lets them know that the broom's had 17 new heads and 14 new handles in those 20 years. i imagine theta's shoes are a lot like triggers broom. all in all there what we would call leather sandals (probably made by the local leather worker) that she brings in every once in a while when they need new soles, straps, maybe resizing when she was a kid.

im making good time (after writing a 3-4 paragraph essay (also no i wasnt i got the numbering wrong and had to redo it))

8. Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

this might not be how it shakes out exactly, but it'll give you the vibes.

when Theta was an acolyte, maybe 15 or 16, the priest (in conversation with theta's mom, of course,) decided that she'd be his apprentice. part of being an apprentice meant living in the church and doing a lot of the boring work of being a priest (calculating calendars, preparing orders of service, transcribing, copying, &c). so the priest (im tired of calling him the priest so hes going to be *drum roll* Fr. Samuel) brought her to a small room with a desk for writing, a bed frame to put a mattress on, and a great big bookshelf full of pre-war books (of which sam's read like, 3. maybe). sam, theta, and theta's mom (drumroll2.mp3, Nadia) brought theta's mattress from her house to the church. done that that bit of tedium theta hulled up in her new room, and in about a year or two, she's read the whole bookshelf. more often than not she has at least a few books on her desk (a bible, bcp, her journal, maybe a calendar or a book of tables).

that story didnt quite go where i thought it would but oh well. her room is fairly clean. the floor is basically completely clear save a couple rugs (one at her desk and on at her bed). her bookshelf is kinda cluttered but her desk is usually some kind of mess, books, notebooks, broadsides. she went scrounging through a prewar shop further in town and found a handful of corkboards to put things on which helped, but her desk is still a mess. for a few years after she started keeping the daily offices she had an improvised kneeler next to her desk because she'd "ask the woodworker to put in a real one later"

9. What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) 

i think it'd be advent/christmas, and that she'd be an outlier for liking it as much as she does. id bet after a few generations their christmas would look a lot less like ours and a lot more like a medieval christmas, which is to say a community feast in the middle of winter. (now that i think about it i think it'd be more interesting if the town were somewhere far enough north for there to be snow. great lakes? that'd be a good excuse to have some sailing.) over all winter would be pretty boring, and i think this is when (as a kid) she'd have the most time to spend reading the bible, thinking about God, pestering Fr. sam about theology, &c, and i think that something she'd find particularly interesting is the Incarnation, for which christmastide is dedicated. i think after a while she would get a case of the old world blues and eventually learn about the tradition of gift giving on christmas, so she'd commission this and that from whoever would make that thing, and then on christmas night she would lead a vigil, during which she could sneak out the back, get the things for her fellow townsfolk and quietly deliver it to them (leaving it either near their door or wherever they keep their firewood to keep with the 'gifts down peoples chimnies' of it all (wow i keep having more and more to say about these than i was expecting))

10. What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.) 

WELL ITS FUNNY YOUD ASK (i already detailed this in a different post let me paste it in here)

she has a messenger bag that she always has on her or near by with several books. among them a bible (or two, or three depending on her patience for the kjv), a copy of the book of common prayer (it was her priest's copy and they've been using it to keep track of apostolic succession on top of its liturgical use), a notebook of prepared liturgies (she uses that and the daily office lectionary to say the daily office, but she also has last rites fully copied in it which are a mix of the episcopalian and catholic last rites, she also has the rosary and the devine mercy chaplet, the latter she says over the dead or dying before last rites), a small calendar (which is copied from another, larger calendar book she keeps at the church which has a 19 year calendar to keep track of the metonic cycle, a 28 year calendar she uses to keep track of normal time, a table for calculating easter and other unfixed holy days, and notes on how you could maybe use astronomy to derive the year if you weren't keeping track of it), and maybe a pre war novel shes reading for fun. as much as i clearly had to say about it, all that doesnt weigh all that much, without the big calendar (which i realize now is basically an almanac) it comes out to less than 10 lbs.

So my problem with most ‘get to know your character’ questioneers is that they’re full of questions that just aren’t that important (what color eyes do they have) too hard to answer right away (what is their greatest fear) or are just impossible to answer (what is their favorite movie.)  Like no one has one single favorite movie. And even if they do the answer changes.

If I’m doing this exercise, I want 7-10 questions to get the character feeling real in my head. So I thought I’d share the ones that get me (and my students) good results: 

What is the character’s go-to drink order? (this one gets into how do they like to be publicly perceived, because there is always some level of theatricality to ordering drinks at a bar/resturant)

What is their grooming routine? (how do they treat themselves in private)

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? (Gets you thinking about socio-economic class, values, and how they spend their leisure time)

Do they have any scars or tattoos? (good way to get into literal backstory) 

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? (Good way to get some *emotional* backstory in.) 

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? (This one might be a me thing, because I LOVE writing/reading about family dynamics, but knowing what kinds of things were ‘normal’ for them growing up is important.)

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. (This is a big catch all, gets into money, taste, practicality, level of wear, level of repair, literally what kind of shoes they require to live their life.)

Describe the place where they sleep. (ie what does their safe space look like. How much (or how little) care / decoration / personal touch goes into it.)

What is their favorite holiday? (How do they relate to their culture/outside world. Also fun is least favorite holiday.) 

What objects do they always carry around with them? (What do they need for their normal, day-to-day routine? What does ‘normal’ even look like for them.) 

[spearofheaven]

⋆˚࿔ DOG DAYS — single father! toji fushiguro x vet! fem reader

PROLOGUE — THE PERFECT PAIR

PART SUM. megumi makes a convincing argument to get a dog.

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. 2.5k words. five year old megumi bossing toji around, mention of mamaguro, and fluff.

A/N. sorry that this took me a while but i hope you enjoy :p reader will be in the next one i promise 🌞

series masterlist main masterlist playlist

“sit.”

toji had barely rolled out of bed, hair sticking up in all different directions while he haphazardly poured coffee beans in the machine when megumi padded over like a miniature drill sergeant barking orders. pointing over at the couch as if toji was nothing more than just another soldier to be trained.

the man simply raised a brow but allowed himself to get pulled over to the living room, plopping down on the couch. “you wanna tell me what th-” before toji had the chance to finish his question, megumi pressed his pointer against his mouth. effectively shushing his father.

the little boy fiddled with the remote control, switching from the news to cartoons, all up until he managed to get his presentation pulled up on the tv screen.

all the reasons why megumi deserves a dog by megumi fushiguro in times new roman font, size 50, and bold.

toji almost felt bad for the ‘no’ bubbling in his chest. keyword: almost. “we’re not getting a damn dog. can barely take care of us half the time.”

reason #1: you wouldn’t be taking care of the dog.

the kid knew what he going up against, at least. “hold on.” he left toji staring at the powerpoint transitions showing up on the screen while he disappeared into his room.

megumi came back into the living room, carrying a pile of books from the public library taller than himself and on the verge of toppling over. covering the surface of the coffee table when he set them down. “i’ll take care of the dog,” he announced, his chest puffed out and his determination sky-high.

toji reached out and plucked one of the books on the table: how to take care of a doggy for dummies.

he flipped through the first couple pages, seeing the basic instructions for taking care of a new pet: be gentle when it comes to potty training, reward it with treats, buy all the dog equipment necessary and maintain it healthy through a proper diet and exercise.

toji set the book down, an amused grin spreading across his lips. “so, you’re a dog expert now?”

“pretty much. pay attention,” megumi ordered, tapping the tv screen. making sure to emphasize each of his points and reiterate what a great dog owner he’d make yet again before moving onto the next slide.

the presentation had passed by in a blur after reason #25, every single one starting to melt together. that megumi would be the one to take the dog out to potty, on walks, that he’d be much happier with one. the last reason, however, had toji paying attention with furrowed brows as the words on screen registered.

“you’re joking.”

reason #50: my mom died and i’m all lonely :(

toji quickly found out megumi fushiguro was, indeed, not joking. he simply looked at his father like he was daring him to still say no, folding his arms across his chest.

and damn it, if it didn’t make it harder for toji to keep his resolve. especially when his late wife was looking at him through the tv screen, holding a mutt she’d found in the street. like she was also arguing for megumi’s point. “that’s just dirty, y’know.”

the kid would make a killer college essay one day.

“fine… if i get a dog, i’ll stop getting into fights and making you go pick me up.” remembering every single complaint toji had muttered under his breath while he drove at 11kmh (his form of rebellion against the school’s 8kmh) about how kids needed to toughen up nowadays.

toji let out an amused scoff, scratching the edge of his chin before straightening up on the sofa. “you should be doing that anyways, kid.”

but the man figured it was worth considering. “can i drink my coffee before i make a decision?” that certainly wasn’t a no.

megumi took that as a begrudging ‘yes’ and rushed up to his room to get ready for the day. toji wasn’t sure he’d seen the boy move that fast, not even when he’d woken up an hour late for school. he let out a scoff, leaning against the kitchen counter and sipping his bitter coffee.

he wasn’t sure if the coffee beans were expired, if they had some kind of different taste, but with each sip that he took, the more that he seemed to come around to the idea of having a dog around the house. having it to protect and be around megumi while he was out doing a job.

toji could tell megumi was just waiting for the moment that he’d slip up and say that yes, they were going to the shelter.

“put your shoes on. we’re going out.” megumi rushed out the door as soon as toji spoke, walking all too eager next to him. however, when the boy realized where they’d stopped walking, his excitement dimmed down.

the grocery store down the block.

“..here?” he sounded like a deflated balloon.

“ran out of toothpaste, we need to get some more.”

the boy frowned, walking next to him as they entered the grocery store. before trying to connect whatever dots his five year old delusions would allow him to. “but we’re going somewhere else, right?”

“dunno, maybe.”

the two of them walked around doing meaningless tasks before toji finally relented, “okay, we’re gonna go look for a dog. only if you’re sure if it’s something you want, i don’t wanna hear that you’re bored next week.”

and just to secure it with the highest form of promises, he stuck his pinkie out. megumi didn’t hesitate to curl his pinkie around toji’s, “pinkie promise i won’t get bored.”

“okay, good, let’s go.”

toji lost track of how many dog shelters they’d been to in the area. all full of overeager puppies and grown dogs jumping around in search of their forever home. and yet, megumi didn’t bother to give the drooling furballs a second look.

he was starting to wonder if the kid was in love with the idea of a dog at this point, deciding to give one last shelter a shot. and it seemed like he wasn’t that interested in what this shelter had to offer either. megumi walked past the dozens of crates lined up against one another without giving them a glance.

all until he stopped in front of one particular cage, pointing a chubby finger inside, “that one.”

the one in question, a large black wolfdog stared at the two from the corner of its confinement. teeth bared out like it had something to defend itself against. toji glanced over at the paper posted on the cage door, #1 worst behaved pup written in overwhelmingly big letters.

stole food from two of his brothers and tried to bite one of the staff members this week while getting his shots.

promising enough.

a shelter employee walked over to the two of them, a questioning look on their face. probably wondering if the two were out of their mind. “you sure that’s the one, buddy? there’s a lot of friendlier dogs around,” their voice was measured, threading on thin ice while gesturing to a couple of the other smaller dogs eagerly scratching at their cage.

megumi shook his head, pointing at the dog crouched in the corner again. “that one,” he reiterated, his voice firm. opening no room for debate. the employee looked over at toji, waiting for the man to say something. all he did was shrug in response, “if that’s the one he wants to see.”

the employee opened the door and megumi opted to approach the dog slowly, bending down and extending his hand out for the dog to sniff. the dog snarled. he stood still, his hand still out. it finally decided to approach, each step a contemplation as it warily approached the little boy and sniffed his hand.

“he normally doesn’t like little kids,” the employee murmured beside toji, watching the scene play out with mild surprise.

the dog licked at megumi’s hand (probably tasting one of the snacks he’d eaten earlier) and allowed for the little boy to pet him. it was a complete contrast from the words printed out on the sheet, the dog completely docile for the five year old.

megumi sat down on the floor and the dog followed suit, laying down at his feet. the two of them seemed to have a silent understanding. the dog rubbed his head against megumi’s fingers, trying to get as many pets as he could out of the five year old.

“papa, can we get this one?” he spoke up after a couple seconds, looking up at toji.

toji turned to the employee, “well, can we?”

“so, the thing about pavement here,” the name had toji resisting the urge to roll his eyes (though what else could he expect from the same place with a golden retriever named chicken crunchwrap supreme), “is that he needs to be adopted with driveway.”

“so what you’re saying is that we’re getting two dogs?” megumi piped up from behind his feet, like it was the only logical solution.

“we could just get none,” toji grumbled. but he was complete putty when he saw his son and the dog giving him puppy eyes in unison. what a pair of conspirers.

he relented in 0.2 seconds, “…but fine. let’s see driveway.”

the employee led them to another cage in the back of the shelter, unlocking the door.

driveway was just as big and just as fluffy as pavement, the white ball of fluff more approachable than the other. “they’re both potty trained and know a couple basic commands like sit and roll over.”

“sit.” megumi ordered the dog like he’d ordered his father around this morning, the canine sitting down in front of the little boy with his tongue out. practically reaching the boy’s stomach at this height.

toji could physically feel the white hairs coming on, letting out a small sigh before facing the employee. “can we take them both?”

“are you sure this is something you also want? we don’t want to have them returned a couple months later,” they spoke, looking over at the dogs solemnly, “you don’t sound too eager and the two were turned in by their last owners for being too destructive.”

now everybody was staring at him—the worker, megumi, and hell, even the two dogs to see what his response would be. “i’m not eager but i also don’t plan on treating ‘em badly.” that seemed like a good enough answer for the most part, the worker leading toji over to an office to get the paperwork situated.

“we don’t do home checks anymore, but if there’s something wrong or if you can’t take care of them anymore, don’t hesitate to call.” they handed a stack of papers and a pen over finalizing the process. toji skimmed through the papers before signing on the lines, handing it back.

“feel free to take their toys and bed from their cages, please.” and still, the two had to go out and buy the rest of what the dogs needed for the time being.

megumi tossed the first thing on the shelf without bothering to even look at the price tag, throwing in an bejeweled dog collar for 7266 yen. just a little less under what he paid for their weekly groceries.

he wasn’t even that mad about the price (he was) but more so about the flimsy material being advertised. just by holding it in his palm, toji could tell it would snap if one of the dogs so much as lightly tugged on it.

“oi,” toji called out, pointing back to the shelf when megumi turned around to look at him, “pick another one.”

“stingy old man,” megumi muttered to himself, placing the collar back on the shelf. he grabbed two sturdy (and more affordable) black collars and placed them in the cart.

“you wanna say that again?” toji retorted, picking up one of the items from the cart and reading over it. talking starter dog toy set. he could practically see his money fading away in the form of talking dog toys and automatic feeders.

“don’t know what you heard, i didn’t say anything,” megumi responded, acting as the guide as he dragged toji to different areas of the store.

the two of them made their way from aisle to aisle, picking up bowls, mats, and a large of kibble with more protein than they could count. the cart filled up soon enough, the boy tossing as many treats and toys as his little hands could manage. only making himself scarce when toji went up to the register, opting to wait from a safe enough distance.

megumi practically knocked out the moment that they stepped foot in the door, barely changing into his pajamas before collapsing onto his bed with a satisfied expression on his face. as satisfied as megumi could look, anyways. toji walked into the room after putting the stuff away (i.e. shoving it in the back of his closet and dealing with it tomorrow), tucking the boy in underneath his blanket.

pavement curled up at the edge of the bed, ears perked up as he stared at toji. waiting to see if the man was a threat. "sleep good, kid," he whispered, patting the boy's head before checking to see if his backpack was packed for the school day tomorrow.

he stopped by the door, looking over at pavement. "you too, mutt." with that, he switched the lights off and closed the door. now all he had planned was take a nap, watch tv, maybe drink a beer if he was up to it.

toji came out to the living room to spot driveway curled up into a ball and snoring like he’d just worked a 12 hour shift right on his arm chair. he debated moving the dog, he really did. but when he approached the chair, he found himself unable to move the dog.

how ridiculous.

he came home soaked in blood more often than not and he couldn’t bring himself to move a dog from his property. toji let out a scoff, deciding to take a seat on the couch. shifting a bit to try to get comfortable. and that was when driveway decided to wake up and move from his spot.

it hopped up on the couch without reservations, circling around toji’s lap before curling up into a ball and continuing his much deserved nap. he didn’t like dogs, he wasn’t a fan. didn’t see the appeal of cleaning up and maintaining after someone else. but.. this wasn’t nearly as bad as he imagined.

he let his hand glide across the dog’s fur, gently rubbing behind driveway’s ear. the furball in question was practically in bliss the moment his fingers grazed against the spot, leg eagerly kicking against toji’s with each swipe of his finger.

"don't get used to this," he muttered, though his protests sounded weak even to his ears. driveway simply gave him a deadpan look before leaning and licking the side of his cheek.

TAGLIST. @lily-bisque @muli-wam @evergyeom @romybites @cutesytwt @keijimilk @levifiance @tsuma-senju @yanelis-world @chilichopsticks @satorupied @planetxella @hellovanie @jkslvsnella @p1nkfl0wers @humeysaga @evii1e @kamuihz @emoedgylord @cherryredkissez @megumuro @chlosology @jheneea @fushiguroooozzz @zoebella30 @stargirl-mayaa @surgikull @chosos-prettyprincess @murakamisblog @erenspersonalwh0re @heliumshorns @katsukigetsmewetter (if at any point you want to removed, please let me know)

[bbgsaja]

⳽ωɩtᥴᖾ ᥙρ (ᙖᥲᑲყ ᔑᥲʝᥲ x ᖴ!ᕼᥙᥒtᥱɾ!ᖇᥱᥲᑯᥱɾ) ρt 丂

summary - everything is right in the world again, and you're back on track to stopping Gwi-Ma warnings - none part one • part two • part three • part four • part five • part six

"Baby."

You breathed out his name so reverently that it made his breath hitch, and when he looked down at you he saw awe, admiration and love - not fear or disgust like his insecurities suggested.

"You're stunning."

Your hand came up to trace the patterns by his eye, then trailed down to the ones on his chin. Your lips parted, a sigh of contentment falling through. Your eyes followed your fingers down the patterns on his neck, making him shiver.

"I didn't want you to run away from me," he admitted quietly.

"Never," you whispered back, cupping his cheek in your hand.

He turned his head, pressing a gentle, affectionate kiss to your wrist, speaking urgently, "I love you."

"I love you too," you wrapped your arms around his neck. "And nothing is going to change that. Whatever insecurities you have, whatever is going on in that head of yours, just talk to me, okay?"

"Okay," he agreed softly.

He let you admire him, watching in awe as you practically worshipped his demon form. Pressing kisses to all the patterns he despised, running your hand along the rough skin he resented. Your touch was soft, gentle, fingers gliding over his skin like he was a treasure you were trying to cherish. Your gaze followed your hand, as if you were trying to commit his features to memory.

"You were wrong," you spoke, with a tenderness he wasn't yet used to. "I do like it. I love it, actually." Then you dropped your hands, but only to bring his clawed ones up to your lips. You pressed reverent kisses to each and every finger, and then each and every claw. Not once taking your eyes off him.

You let him take his time, watching his every reaction. His beautiful amber eyes studied your face as he brought his claws to your face. His breath hitched at the unwavering trust you had in him, not even flinching as he gently poked your skin. You just smiled at him, even as he dragged the tips down your cheeks, to your jawline.

You giggled, "That tickles, actually."

He was bewildered. Your reaction was far from anything he had expected. And even if he'd thought you would accept him, he could never have predicted the absolute love and devotion you looked at him with.

"You're insane," he finally breathed out, before leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Clawed hands gripped your waist, tugging your body against his as he kissed you with an urgency, a craving, that you hadn't felt before. "But I love you."

You didn't get a chance to respond, because after he kissed you he smushed you against his sweater again.

"Baby!" You protested, voice muffled. "Breathe!"

Later on, you were dragged into the living room by Baby, only to see the other girls being dragged in by the other Saja boys as well. They sat you girls down on the couch and crossed their arms.

"I can't believe that we're the voice of reason here," Baby started.

"But we think you need to work this out," Mystery finished.

You did a double take, looking at the next Saja boy who spoke before realising that Mystery spoke again, and your head snapped back to him. That took you off guard more than the rest of them trying to play mediator.

"Everything is at steak," Abby added, "Though I prefer chicken-"

"Stake, Abby!" Jinu groaned, face-palming.

Baby snickered.

Abby shoved his beret over his eyes.

You and Mira face-palmed.

"Anyway," Jinu sighed, "You girls can't be fighting like this when we're so close."

"That was my line!" Romance protested. "I could have said it better."

Jinu took a deep breath, his eyes flashing amber for a moment, "Just say what I was going to say then!"

"But it's so short!" When Jinu gave him a look, he quickly backtracked, "I-I mean, so, um, talk this out or, you know, hug it out!" He opened his arms, flashing you all a charming smile.

Jinu screamed into his hands.

This entire thing was more than enough for the four of you to burst out laughing, though.

"I'm afraid our idiots are right," Mira sighed, turning to the three of you. She looked uncomfortable, not used to initiating apologies.

"I'm sorry!" You all blurted simultaneously.

"I can't believe that worked," Baby commented.

Abby wrapped a thick arm around your boyfriend's neck, covering his mouth with his large hand, "Let them talk!"

"I should have told you guys," Rumi ignored them, looking at you all. "I know, it was a bad call. Celine forced me to keep it a secret, promising me they'd be gone when we turned the Honmoon gold." She took a deep breath. "But...I should have told you anyway. I trust you guys, I do, and I don't know why I kept it a secret..."

"It's okay," you told her.

"We get it," Mira agreed.

"You couldn't go against Celine's wishes," Zoey smiled softly. "Totally understandable."

"But you don't have to hide anything from us," you reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "We're here for you, and we'll support you - and each other - no matter what."

"Yeah, and if it helps," Zoey's eyes lit up, "Your patterns are gorgeous!"

Rumi smiled, really smiled, as her patterns glowed a different colour. Or different colours, like a chromatic rainbow had imbedded itself on her skin.

"Thanks, guys."

Then they turned to you.

"What did Gwi-Ma tell you?" Rumi asked, voice turning serious.

"What?" Your eyes widened. "How did you...?" Your eyes slowly drifted to Jinu, who was not looking at you. He was, in fact, making it very obvious that he was trying to avoid your gaze. He was looking at the table, studying it like it was a scientific marvel.

"That's not the point," Mira pulled your attention back to them. "We just want to know what he said to you."

You sighed, fiddling with your fingers, "He told me that no one trusted me. And that he could help me." You shook your head, "Guys, it's fine, I-"

They cut you off by hugging you, Zoey and Mira trying to smother you and Rumi in love and affection through their tight embrace.

"Once again, a flawlessly executed plan!" Jinu exclaimed, proud of himself.

"Uh, no," Baby disagreed, "Our first plan technically failed." Then he turned and smirked at you. "Though no one said that's a bad thing."

"Yeah, your first plan sucked," Mira agreed. "Come to think of it, why did you guys think those first pairs were going to work?"

They all looked at each other, but no one responded.

"Romance," Baby finally answered.

"WHAT?" The pink-haired boy cried. "It wasn't me!"

"Yes it was," Baby casually replied, "You bet you could get the "cute" one to go out with you. And then you encouraged him," he looked at Abby, "to get my girl to like his stupid abs. And Mystery...well, Mystery just went along with it."

"...I feel attacked," Abby pouted, looking at his abs.

"I didn't do that!" Romance protested.

"Actually," Jinu laughed nervously. "That was me. My bad."

"See!" Romance gestured to Jinu frantically.

"Nah," Baby shook his head. "When in doubt, blame Romance."

"..?!?"

"Yes."

Everyone looked at Mystery, who just shrugged as if he hadn't just agreed with Baby. Romance looked like he was short-circuiting.

"It's always Romance."

The pink-haired demon crashed out.

You pulled Baby away and took him to your room before he could make anyone else cry. Trying to hold back your own laughter.

He immediately lounged on your bed and smirked up at you, "I'm the funniest, aren't I?"

"The meanest, actually," you laughed.

He sat upright, raising an eyebrow, "Is that how it is?"

Your eyes widened when he crawled towards the end of the bed, "What are you doing?"

"Teaching my girlfriend who's the funniest."

Then he lunged forward, grabbed you, flipped you so he was on top, and started tickling you. Laughter bubbled out of you, but his hands didn't stop their assault.

"Baby stooooop!" You giggled.

He carried on.

He only stopped when you were breathless, panting, clutching your aching stomach. You wheezed, struggling to breathe as he chuckled next to you.

"See? Mean!" You gasped.

He just laughed and pulled you closer. Slipping into his true form easily, his arms wrapping around you. He was tired of keeping up the illusion, and you made it easy for him to be himself. Especially when you rested your head on his chest, listening intently for his heartbeat as your hand found his and held it.

And when you looked up at him like he was your whole world.

The next day, rehearsals went great.

No one argued. No bickering. Not even a sassy remark from Baby. Everyone locked in, focused and put all of your energy into practice-performing the song.

But just when you got the choreography right, Gwi-Ma sent another obstacle to replace his demon boy band.

tag list - @tenaciouskittenpuff @tiger-lilee-5 @seavnz @haru-reto @redkitsu03 @pearthesimp

[littledykeblue]

(𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐/𝟒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍)

──𝐌𝐘 𝐏.𝐔.𝐍.𝐊. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋;

(frontman!jinx x groupie!reader): you are what some people would call obsessive about your favorite band; and you finally get the chance to realize all of your dreams when you end up in the home of jinx lanes.

PART ONE HERE!

wc: 9k | cw: lead vocalist!jinx, loser groupie!reader, generally rough sex, dom bottom!jinx, biting, hair-pulling, dacryphillia, begging, rope play (r! tied up), vibrator (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (r! & j!receiving), overstim, edging, dry humping, piercings, MINORS DNI.

note: i was wayyy to eager to get to jinx's part so i gotta do it now! vi is up next and im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. also holy shit somebody was getting Freaky writing this.

You would confidently dub yourself Hotwired’s biggest fan. You’ve been around since the very beginning, back when they were just two sisters in their dad’s garage, crafting the songs that would one day become their greatest hits. You were at their first ever show (at a shitty bar with a busted PA system), and you’ve kept every single ticket stub since. 

When they brought on the mysterious, masked C.K., you were there. When they had a brief fallout, cancelled their slot at Riot Fest, and went offline for six months? You were there. For every single bit of the whole stealing Sevika from her old band, Blood Feud, you were right there in every thread and underneath every discussion post.

Your collection of signed merch is practically priceless now, stuff newer fans would probably commit crimes for. You run a well-known fan blog that’s updated religiously, mostly dedicated to the band’s chaotic, blue-haired frontwoman: Jinx.

Your bedroom is a shrine. Posters on every wall, records lined up on your shelves, a glass case dedicated to your wristbands and setlists and polaroids. Everyone who knows you is beyond tired of hearing about them, and especially tired of hearing about her.

Jinx Lanes. All attitude, no brakes. She says what she wants, does what she wants, flips off the cameras while doing it. You’ve seen every stage interview, every grainy fan clip, every viral moment where she’s either flashing the crowd or starting a fake fight with Vi for fun. She’s a full-on nightmare and you are obsessed. You’ve got painfully vivid daydreams where she picks you out of the crowd, grins that feral little grin, and takes you home to ruin your life in the best possible way.

Unfortunately, that fantasy’s still just that. A fantasy.

You go to every show, sure, but it’s not like you’re balling on VIP money. If it’s not your birthday or some kind of Hotwired-related anniversary, you’re usually stuck somewhere in the middle of the crowd. Lost in the sea of people screaming her name. Completely invisible.

You’ve accepted it, mostly. The truth that the girl you’ve spent years loving from afar probably doesn’t even know you exist. And if she does? You’re just another fan. Another face in the crowd.

But the thing about Jinx is, she’s never been great at sticking to the script.

Your first actual meeting with her (outside of the brief signings where you were quickly ushered away to make room for the ridiculously long lines) is not nearly as glamorous as in any of your many, many daydreams. 

It’s early afternoon, middle of the week, and you’re leaning against your car, waiting for your latest post to upload, when you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up, ready to size up whoever’s headed your way—only to nearly choke on your own spit.

Standing in front of you is Jinx. Jinx fucking Lanes.

She’s got on these huge sunglasses and a spiked beret; neither do a great job at hiding who she is. Though, you like to think you’d be able to recognize her in a heartbeat either way. She’s looking up at you over the rim of the glasses with those big blue-gray eyes.

“Hey, could you do me a huge favor?” she asks, barely giving you time to react. “So, like—I’m kinda famous, and these annoying-ass guys have been following me around trying to get a picture. Normally I’d just cause a scene and smash their gear, but apparently I’m supposed to be on my best behavior or whatever. Look, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

She talks fast, like the words are trying to outrun each other, and you’re pretty sure you only catch about half of what she actually says.

“You’re…you’re Jinx Lanes,” you manage to get out, brain still buffering.

Her shoulders drop a little and her arms cross defensively, like she’s bracing for impact. “Yep. That’s me. You gonna sell me out?”

“No! No, of course not,” you blurt out, instantly panicked at the idea. “I’m just—I’m a huge fan. You’re literally my number one artist. I think you’re a brilliant songwriter—”

“Think I’m brilliant enough to give me a ride?”

Right. Right. You remember the whole reason this conversation is even happening and nod so fast it might give you whiplash. “Oh my god. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I’m just—this is kind of insane. Get in, please.”

You know you’re talking too fast and probably too loud, and your heart feels like it’s turning into soup in your chest. This is not how you imagined this moment going. You’re supposed to be in the perfect outfit, front row, stage lights casting that soft glow, and Jinx points to you mid-song during Pretty Punk Girl, so taken by your killer look and smooth moves that she hauls you on stage.

Instead, she’s climbing into your car, and you’re cringing as her boot knocks over some half-empty water bottle and an embarrassing tangle of receipts and snack wrappers. So much for the cool, effortless fantasy.

Whatever. Sue you for not being perfect.

You pull out of the parking lot with slightly trembling hands, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jinx is in your passenger seat. Your initial plan had just been to go home, maybe heat up leftovers and reblog a few photos of Hotwired’s last show. But now?

Now your number one obsession is sprawled out beside you like this is no big deal. You suppose that, maybe for her, it really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure whether your should be impressed or deeply concerned with how easily she got into the car with a stranger.

You hesitate at the first red light, your blinker ticking away as you try to stall and think of somewhere else to go. You can’t just…take her back to your place. That would be insane. Not because you’re ashamed or anything—everyone who knows you knows you’re obsessed—but there’s a difference between being a dedicated fan and opening the door to what’s basically a museum of her face.

That kind of devotion might be just a little much in person.

You risk a glance out of the corner of your eye and immediately regret it. Jinx has her boots kicked up on the dash, scuffed black leather creaking slightly as she adjusts. Her legs are bare and pale and stretch impossibly long out from the cut-offs she’s wearing. Your gaze drifts up to where her low-slung shorts sit, a few teasing inches of toned stomach peeking out under her cropped tee. Ink clouds curl around her navel, disappearing into the waistband. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

She's busy on her phone, thumb flying across the screen with streaks of chipped pink and blue polish. Completely unaware—or at least pretending not to notice—that you’re openly staring like a deer in headlights.

You clear your throat quickly, whipping your head forward as the light flips green. “So, uh…where exactly should I be going?”

“Right. Lemme just—” she leans over, not even asking before tapping on your car’s GPS with all the casual confidence of someone who doesn’t hear the internal screaming going on beside her. “There.”

You glance down at the glowing screen, squinting at the address. “Is that…your house?”

“Yep.” She pops the p, still tapping away on her phone. “Hope you don’t mind playing chauffeur for a bit. I’ll even give you five stars.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, like your brain isn’t short-circuiting. “No problem. Totally normal day.”

Jinx finishes typing something out on her phone and tosses it carelessly into the cupholder. Then she leans back, kicking her boots off the dash and turning her head toward you. "Play something," she says.

You glance at her. “Anything you’re in the mood for?”

Jinx hums. “I dunno. Surprise me.”

You hesitate for half a second before asking, “Are you opposed to hearing your own stuff?”

“God, no,” she scoffs, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I love the sound of my own voice.”

You huff a laugh and scroll through your playlist until you find the first track in the “Hotwired: Timefracture Saga” queue. You don’t hesitate to hit play.

The opening guitar riff of Parallel Hearts spills into the car and Jinx perks up immediately, grinning like you just handed her a slice of cake. “Oooh, you’re going deep cuts on me, huh?”

“I’m committed to the bit,” you say, trying to sound cool and not like you’re slowly melting into the driver's seat. The idea of singing Jinx’s song in front of her in real life? Literally unreal. Your hands are already sweating.

But then the first verse starts and your body knows what to do. You belt it out with the kind of confidence that only comes from listening to a song approximately nine thousand times. To your amazement, Jinx doesn’t just let you carry it. She joins in with all the same energy she brings on stage.

The two of you blast through the first two songs—Parallel Hearts and Phantom Frequency—loud and off-key and gloriously dramatic. When the final chorus ends, Jinx turns in her seat to look at you, visibly impressed.

“Okay, wow,” she says, a little breathless. “You maybe you really are my biggest fan.”

You shrug like it’s not the best compliment you’ve ever received. “Yeah, I mean, I kinda know everything there is to know.”

That gets a raised brow. Jinx smirks, already shifting in her seat like she’s ready to stir shit. “Everything?”

You nod. Maybe a little smug.

“Alright, fan club president,” she says, cracking her knuckles. “Pop quiz time. Let’s see if you’re full of shit.”

You don’t even blink.

She fires off the first question. “What city did we play our first sold-out show in?”

“New Orleans,” you say immediately. “At a place called The Violet Room. You jumped off the drum kit and nearly broke your ankle. It was the first time you guys ever performed Despair Girls live. It was magical.”

“Fuck, all of that’s true,” she mutters, almost to herself. “Okay. What’s Vi’s pre-show ritual?”

“She does five push-ups and kisses her guitar. That’s child’s play.”

Jinx laughs. “Okay, try this one out. What’s the first song I’ve ever written?”

“Easy. I Love You, Dad. You wrote it when you were thirteen for your dad’s birthday and you and Vi performed it for him. If I recall correctly, there were tears?”

“Holy. Shit.” She flops back against the seat and looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. “You should be like an interviewer or some shit. Wait…are you an interviewer? Tabloid?”

You shake your head. “Nah. Just a fan,” you answer, drumming your fingers on the wheel to the song playing quietly now. “I found you guys pretty early on, when it was just you and Vi. I was hooked from then.”

“Alright, alright. One more. Let’s see if you know this one,” she says, leaning in like this one is going to be her real ace up the sleeve. “What is C.K.’s real identity?”

“Oh, come on! Nobody knows that except you guys and even that’s me speculating!”

She throws her head back and laughs, wild and delighted and loud, and for a second you feel a weird flutter of something between adrenaline and affection. “I know, I know. I just had to get one over on ya. I don’t like to lose, superfan.”

You can’t help but join in on her laughter. Then, you feel the sudden need to explain yourself. “I-I hope you don’t think I’m some kinda freak, now. Like, I’m not gonna turn into some crazy stalker or anything. I believe in ethical obsession…with your music! And your whole persona.”

“Nah,” she says, grinning out the window. “Kinda hot, actually.”

Eventually, the road curves around a sharp bend and there it is: a tall iron gate flanked by brick pillars, ringed with ivy, with a small keypad mounted on the side. You ease to a stop in front of it, unsure of what comes next, until Jinx leans fully across the center console to punch in the code herself. Her body brushes yours and you go rigid on instinct, hands glued to your lap as if moving them might set off some kind of alarm.

Her weight is warm, surprisingly solid. You keep your eyes forward but your gaze betrays you, flicking down to take in the bare skin of her lower back as her cropped shirt rides up. A little tattoo rests there, inked just above the waistband of her low-slung shorts. 

You recognize it immediately. It’s the grinning robotic monkey from Hotwired’s first album cover. It’s crude in a way that feels personal, a perfect fit for her. You catch a whiff of her perfume as she leans over you, warm and sweet, cinnamon-spiced and dizzying. It makes your fingers twitch where they’re clenched, white-knuckled, against your thighs.

Just when you think your heart might give out from sheer sensory overload, Jinx pulls away and settles back in her seat. “Full speed ahead,” she says, casually, and you try to follow that directive but end up hitting the gas a little too hard. The car jerks forward before you recover, easing up and offering a weak laugh. She doesn’t say anything about it, but you catch her smirk from the corner of your eye.

The gates swing open and you cruise slowly up the long, curved driveway. At the top of the hill, her house comes into view. Less mansion, more mini palace. Sleek, modern lines dressed up in stone and glass, surrounded by manicured hedges and little bursts of wildflowers. From the outside, it doesn’t scream rockstar, but the gated privacy and oversized front door definitely whisper it.

You park at the top and cut the engine, hands hovering awkwardly as Jinx climbs out. She stretches with a groan, then slams the door shut and starts heading toward the entrance. Halfway there, she turns and sees you still frozen in the driver's seat. She lifts her arms with an incredulous little laugh.

“You coming, or are you gonna sit there until I drag you out?”

That shakes you loose. You hop out, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary, trying not to let your nerves show. Jinx jogs the rest of the way up and punches in a different code at the front door before swinging it open. She steps inside first and flicks on a light.

The interior hits you like a wall of color and chaos. It’s loud and messy and perfect, a curated kind of maximalism that looks like someone raided every vintage shop in a tri-county radius and made it work through force of will. 

Sunken couches in mismatched colors, shag rugs layered over each other like someone couldn’t choose, neon signs and lava lamps and velvet posters that are definitely original prints. There’s an old jukebox in the corner that might actually work and a huge blown-up shot of the band’s first Rolling Stone cover takes up half the wall behind the couch. You see guitars hung like art and a massive wall-mounted shadowbox of ticket stubs, backstage passes, and little bits of confetti sealed in resin. A few shelves are crammed with Hotwired memorabilia, some of it rare enough that you actually gasp a little.

Jinx sweeps her arm out in a grand, over-the-top flourish. “Welcome to the madhouse. Make yourself at home.”

You step in cautiously, like you’re walking through the most holy of places. It’s hard to believe any of this is even remotely real; you sneak and pinch the back of your hand, praying you don’t suddenly wake up. 

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. All you can think is: holy shit, you’re in Jinx’s house.

You can't help yourself. The second Jinx gives the okay, you're flitting from corner to corner like a sugar-high kid let loose in a toy store. There’s just so much to take in. 

You zero in on a glass display case near the stairs, pressing your hands to the glass as you stare down at what looks like one of Jinx’s stage costumes from their third tour—the blue leather jacket with the jagged, mismatched patches and the “KISS ME, COWARD” painted across the back. “This is from the Bright Lights, Bloody Knuckles tour,” you say, breath catching. “You wore this in Chicago and then again in Paris, but the patch on the left shoulder wasn’t torn off until the Tokyo show so it’s the only one sewn on with red thread. Vi’s work, I’m assuming.”

You’re not really assuming. You know this as fact.

Jinx whistles low. “Damn. I still can’t believe you know your shit like this.”

You glance over your shoulder, sheepish, but your feet are already carrying you to the next treasure. There’s a line of guitars, none of them in cases, just propped up like art along the back wall. One of them is Jinx’s first—a cherry red Gretsch with cracked lacquer and band stickers peeling at the edges. Another is Vi’s, the body all scratched up and scuffed from a thousand drunken stage dives. 

You spot a limited run vinyl from one of your other favorite punk bands and let out an embarrassing little gasp. “Wait, can I just ask: was the whole Hollow Vow/Hotwired friendship real? Or were you guys playing it up for the camera?” you ask, pointing.

“Fuck yeah,” Jinx grins. “You probably already know this, but they were the first legit band to give us a chance. Let us open for them and shit. Total weirdos. Great energy.”

There’s a wall-mounted rack of signed magazine covers—Spin, Rolling Stone, NME, even Teen Vogue, from that one brief moment where Hotwired was just two teenage girls making their way across the west coast. “That cover got us so much hate mail,” Jinx says, sidling up behind you. “You’d think we pissed on someone’s grandma.”

You laugh, almost nervously, finally starting to feel a little more grounded in the whirlwind that is her house. But then you realize how much you've been talking, how fast, and how completely unhinged you probably sound. You snap your mouth shut before you can rattle off which Spin article has your favorite quote.

When you glance back at Jinx, she’s watching you. Just looking, head tilted like she's figuring you out. And then, casually as anything, she says, “You wanna go for a dip?”

You blink at her. “What?”

“Hottub,” she replies, already turning toward a side door that you hadn’t even noticed before. “Consider it part of my payment for the ride. I’m going either way, so if you wanna come, bring your fine little trivia brain with you.”

“I don’t—I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” you say, instinctively glancing down at yourself like one might spontaneously materialize.”Not really a, uh, car essential.”

Jinx scoffs, her smirk practically criminal. “So? Get naked. I’m not shy.”

The very idea has your brain going horribly blank. You go visibly stiff, body locking up entirely against your will. She laughs—loud and genuine.

“Okay, okay. Jesus,” she says, holding up her hands in surrender. “You can just go in your underwear. I’ve got robes and a dryer. It’s not a big deal.”

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The idea of being that close, in so little, with her is almost enough to make you reconsider. But you’re not dumb enough to pass this up. An honest to god once in a lifetime possibility was just dropped into your lap and you would never be able to forgive yourself should you let it slip through your fingers. 

You nod, slow and shaky, then offer a small, breathless, “Okay.”

Jinx gives you a look like she’s thoroughly amused by your entire existence. “Cool. You can go ahead, I’ll be there in a sec..” She disappears up the grand staircase, taking them two at a time and you just stand there for a beat, silently trying to remember how to walk.

You strip down to your underwear in the living room, folding your clothes into a neat little stack on the edge of the couch like that somehow makes this entire situation feel less insane. At least you wore something cute. Matching set, soft cotton, nothing too showy but still enough that you won’t die of embarrassment. 

You head through the door Jinx showed you just moments ago and find a stone hottub that looks like it probably cost a small fortune. There’s chairs surrounding it and the whole thing overlooks the equally stunning pool. 

The evening air is cool but not cold, and you’re grateful for it when you climb the short steps and settle into the hot tub’s edge.

You turn the jets on, feeling them whir to life beneath your legs, and sink in. The water is still warming up but it feels nice, soothing the weird ache in your limbs from how tense you’ve been since Jinx got in your car. You keep your arms propped on the edge, head tilted back, eyes on the stars above because it’s easier than staring down the panic creeping up your spine.

Then you hear the door slide open.

You glance up and immediately forget how to breathe.

Jinx steps outside holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. She’s changed, if you could call it that. Her bikini is leopard print and tiny, and very, very familiar. You recognize it instantly from the “Trashy Punk Drunk” music video where she sang an entire verse while riding a mechanical shark. Seeing it in person, on her body, is borderline unfair.

“Like what you see?” she asks, already grinning as she gives you a slow, exaggerated twirl. The light catches on her pale skin, almost giving her an otherworldly glow. You catch a glimpse of the small navel ring you hadn’t noticed before, the dip of her hips, the tattoo wrapping her rib cage.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“You look—uh. Nice,” you manage, mentally kicking yourself as the words come out. “Really, um. Good. Like...sexy. Really sexy.”

Jinx barks out a laugh, delighted, and finally hands you a glass before she steps into the water. “I knew you were cute, but this is adorable.” She taps the rim of your flute with hers and then sinks into the hot tub beside you, head tipping back with a satisfied sigh as the bubbles start to build around her. “You’re lucky I’m such a sucker for awkward.”

You take a long sip of champagne and try not to combust.

She reaches over to set the temperature gauge a few degrees higher, her fingers dancing casually across the digital screen, and then she settles in with her arms outstretched along the back of the tub. One arm brushes against yours. It takes every ounce of your self-control not to flinch.

“So,” she says, eyes flicking your way with a lazy smirk, “you come here often?” Despite it obviously being a joke, her voice still comes out as a purr that sends a shameful wave of arousal through you. It’s a good thing you’re already wet. 

You let out a breath and do your best to match her casual. “Can’t say that I do.”

Jinx hums, pleased, and takes another slow sip. “Glad you are.”

You take another sip of champagne, feeling the bubbles fizzle down your throat, and risk a glance at Jinx from the corner of your eye. Her legs are kicked up in the water, toes just breaking the surface, and her head is resting lazily against the lip of the hot tub. She looks...content. Maybe a little tired, in that way people get when they’ve finally exhaled after holding their breath for too long.

You turn toward her a bit. “Hey, can I ask you something kind of personal?”

Jinx cracks one eye open. “Shoot.”

“Do you, like...regularly invite strangers into your house? Or am I, like, special?”

She huffs a small laugh and stretches her arms behind her head, chest lifting slightly above the bubbling water. “Not usually. Though, to be fair, I make a lot of bad choices. So the answer’s not always no.” She glances over at you, smile crooked. “You were adorable, though. And passionate. And you don’t really seem like the psycho killer type yet. You haven’t even asked me for an autograph yet and you’re my little superfan..”

You laugh, flustered but warm. “I try.”

Jinx shrugs a shoulder, her expression softening. “And...I dunno. It’s been a minute since I’ve talked to someone who wasn’t in my band or working PR or trying to sleep with ‘Jinx Lanes.’” Her voice lowers slightly, sincerity bleeding through. “You’re very easy to be around.”

You nod. “You’re pretty cool like this, too. Just so you know.”

She nudges her shoulder into yours, that playful grin finding its way back. “Flatterer.”

You grin right back, nerves slowly unspooling.

“Wanna know something only, like, two people know about me?” she asks after a beat, turning a little more toward you, her leg brushing yours under the water. “A little treat to add to your endless trivia?”

“Obviously.”

She leans in conspiratorially, her voice a half-whisper like someone might be listening. “I actually graduated with a degree in astrophysics.”

Your jaw drops. “No shit?”

“No shit,” she says proudly, lifting her glass in a little cheers to herself. “Top of my class, too.”

You blink. “Wait—what? How did you go from literal rocket science to fronting a punk rock band?”

Jinx’s smile dims just a little, not sad exactly—more nostalgic. “Vi. I always thought she’d do something like this. Big stage, screaming fans, y’know? When the band started getting traction, she didn’t want to do it alone. In fact, said she’d only go for it with me. And I figured...why the hell not? I’d already chased one dream. Why not try another if it meant doing it with my sister?”

“That’s actually amazing,” you say, your voice softer now. “How’d you manage to keep that one under wraps?”

“Oh, I looked a hell of a lot different then and, obviously, my real name’s not Jinx Lanes.” 

“You know, you’re making it really hard not to idolize you,” you whisper. And you’re not really sure why you’re whispering. It may have something to do with just how close Jinx is to you. “Not—not in, like, a weird way. Just, uh, just like the normal amount. Because you’re so cool and so pretty and now I know you’re, like, a genius and stuff and…yeah.”

There’s a pause.

You’re both looking at each other, water bubbling around you, glasses half full and the night wrapping its arms around the deck in a quiet hush. Jinx’s eyes are a little softer than usual, lips parted slightly as if caught between a smile and something else. You think she might say something, but instead, she just leans in.

And you meet her halfway.

The kiss is slow and warm, hesitant at first like neither of you is sure how long it’s been coming. Her lips taste like champagne and spearmint, and the second your hand drifts up to cup her cheek, she sighs into it. “I do so very like being worshiped,” she says against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip.

Jinx floats over into your lap like she belongs there, legs slung carelessly over one of your thighs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her hands find your chest, sliding over the swell of your breasts through damp fabric, fingers curling and groping with open hunger. 

She kisses you again, but this time there’s no testing the waters. It’s harder, hotter, more desperate. Her mouth is demanding and slick with champagne, her hips beginning to roll slow and deliberate against your leg. The friction is minimal, but it’s enough to have her sighing into your mouth like she’s already halfway there.

Emboldened by the way she reacts to every tiny movement, you let your hand settle at her hip. The soft give of her flesh beneath your fingers is dizzying, and she doesn’t stop you when you guide her hips, encouraging the rhythm she’s building on your thigh. The way her body grinds down is enough to send heat pooling between your own legs. 

Your other hand moves up without thinking, sliding along her back and up to the base of her neck, where you find the thick roots of those signature twin braids. You grab them—not tight, not yet—but it’s enough to feel them in your grip.

Jinx pulls back just far enough to look at you, eyes bright and wild, lips swollen from the kiss. “If you’re gonna yank ‘em,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Do it hard.”

You hesitate for only a moment, unsure of your own strength, terrified you might misjudge the line and snap the tension in the wrong direction. You give a test tug, just enough to jolt her head back a little, just enough that your mouths part by a fraction. 

But it’s clearly not enough. She lets out a frustrated sound, half growl, half moan, and then she’s crashing back into you, teeth scraping against your lower lip, biting hard enough to draw the sharp tang of blood.

You gasp at the sting, the warmth of it on your tongue, and your fingers clench on reflex. You yank harder, and her head jerks back with a gasp that melts into a laugh, her grin feral. She’s loving this. She’s completely out of her mind with it. You loop one of her braids around your fist and drag her back down into another kiss that’s messier than the last, all spit and tongue and aching need.

Her hips grind down with reckless abandon now, sloshing water over the edge of the tub as her pace stutters. Jinx lets out a broken, breathy cry against your mouth, every muscle in her body going taut. You can feel the tremor in her thighs, the way her whole frame shudders, and your only thought is that you did this. You hold her like that, letting her ride it out, letting her fall apart against you until she’s gasping and trembling and grinning like the devil.

When she finally pulls back, she rests her forehead against yours. Her breath ghosts across your lips, heavy and hot, and her grin is still sharp enough to slice you open. “You’re not so shy anymore, are you?”

You don’t even have words. You’re drunk on adrenaline, dazed and reeling because your idol—your ultimate fantasy—just used your thigh to come. Nothing in your entire life will ever top this.

Jinx leans in close, nipping once more at your bottom lip. “How would you like to take this up to my bedroom?”

You nod, unable to form a proper response to the question.

Jinx hops off your lap and out of the hottub; she can’t get you out behind her quick enough it seems. “Come on,” she says, breathless and giddy, already halfway to the stairs. “Upstairs. Now.”

You stumble after her, legs still shaky, heart trying to catch up. She takes the steps two at a time, half-dragging you in her excitement. You follow with much less grace, feet squelching with every wet step the two of you take.

“Jinx,” you call, panting a little, “we’re still soaked. There’s a literal trail behind us.”

She glances over her shoulder, completely unconcerned. “So? I’ve got a cleaner. Don’t care.” Her eyes flash mischievously. “Besides, maybe I like it better wet.”

You pass wet footprints and little drops of water marking your path, but she doesn’t slow down. You barely catch the door to her bedroom swinging open before she pulls you through it and kicks it shut behind you.

The room is big, chaotic in the way only Jinx’s space could be. Her bedroom is exactly as chaotic and stylish as the rest of the house. But the bed is huge, practically a stage in itself. Thick, crushed velvet sheets stretch over it in deep, electric blue, glowing faintly under the dim lighting. You don’t even want to think about how expensive they probably are.

You hesitate, standing awkwardly at the foot of it, still very aware of how wet your skin is, how your soaked underwear sticks to your body. 

“These are fresh sheets,” you say. “Jinx, seriously—”

She cuts you off with a laugh, already pulling at the knot of her swimsuit bottoms. “You’re cute when you worry about stuff like that.” 

The bottoms peel away from her skin with a soft, sticky sound and hit the floor. She peels off her top next, tossing it in the same direction. And suddenly, she’s naked in front of you, skin flushed, thighs slick, nipples pierced with silver barbells that catch the light.

Your mouth actually falls open.

“Oh, that got your attention,” Jinx teases, climbing up onto the bed on her knees. Her breasts bounce lightly as she moves, each piercing a little glint of danger and temptation. “I’ve got one more, by the way. Wanna see?”

You can’t even answer. You just nod.

She crawls across the bed with unhurried confidence, her knees dragging soft ruts in the velvet as she makes her way to you. You stay frozen until she pushes you back, until your spine hits the mattress and your underwear makes a soft squish against the sheets.

She straddles your hips, and your hands come up instinctively to her thighs—warm, strong, slick where she was grinding earlier.

“Eyes up,” she says with a crooked grin, as she shuffles up your body, her heat growing stronger the closer she gets to your chest…your throat…your mouth.

Then you see it.

Right at the peak of her slick folds, nestled against the swollen pink of her clit, is a small silver ball. Your breath hitches hard enough to make your vision blur.

“Still speechless?” she asks, teasing, hips hovering just above your mouth now. “God, you’re so easy.”

You try to form a reply, but you’re already craning your neck, already reaching up to meet her.

Jinx lowers herself with no hesitation. One hand braces against the wall behind the bed, the other gripping the headboard for leverage as she sinks down onto your mouth, full and flush.

Her taste hits you instantly as her thighs press firm against your cheeks, framing your head. You let your hands settle on her hips, fingers curling tight.

She gasps, loud and unfiltered, then lets out a broken laugh. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, yeah, that’s good.”

The pressure of her against your mouth is intense—your nose buried against her, the piercing rubbing slick against your tongue. Every time she rolls her hips, that little ball brushes you just right. She’s so wet already, and her pace starts unsteady before she finds a rhythm, grinding slow and deep.

You moan into her and feel her thighs tense.

“Damn,” she pants, looking down at you with wild eyes, braid tips brushing your chest. “You keep that up and I’m gonna fall in love or something.”

Your only response is a groan, muffled against her, too far gone to care.

Jinx laughs again, more breath than sound, and plants herself fully down. “Go on then. Let’s see how long I can last.”

You take a steady breath through your nose before burying yourself in her, licking with a wide tongue across the expanse of her pussy. It pulls a cute squeal from her lips and she clenches her legs a little harder around you head. You set a steady pace, making sure to take your time. To commit her every sound and movement to perfect memory.

Jinx rocks her hips forward with more urgency now, chasing friction, chasing that sharp edge she’s clearly been holding back from. Her grip on the headboard tightens, knuckles pale, and her thighs start to tremble against your face.

You’re soaked with her. Your mouth, your chin, your cheeks. Her slick drips down your jaw and onto the crushed velvet beneath you. But all you can think about is that piercing.

You focus on it—rolling your tongue around the little ball at the tip of her clit, tracing tight circles around it, then flicking fast across the sensitive spot it guards. It moves with her, tapping gently against your teeth now and then with a soft, addictive clink. Every time you hear it, feel it bump into your enamel, it makes your brain stutter. You want to taste her forever. Want to see how many times that little piece of metal can make her lose control.

Jinx groans loud above you, throwing her head back. “Shit. Shit, you’re good,” she pants. “Keep that up and I’ll—fuck, that feels so fucking good.”

She grinds down harder, using you now, water sliding down her ribs and dripping from her chest onto your skin. Her piercings swing slightly with the motion, glinting in the low light.

Then her voice cuts through, rough and commanding:

“Slap my ass.”

Your eyes flick up to her in surprise, but she doesn’t slow.

“Do it,” she growls. “And none of that gentle shit. I don’t have time for that.”

You hesitate for a heartbeat—then oblige. Your hand comes up with a firm smack, the sound echoing sharp through the room. She jolts above you and lets out a loud, broken moan.

“Fuck, yeah,” she gasps. “Just like that.”

You do it again, your palm stinging as it connects. Her skin reddens under your touch, and you can feel the way her muscles twitch beneath it. Her rhythm stutters and she bears down harder, barely holding herself up now.

Every moan, every tremble, every word out of her mouth is filthy and desperate. She’s soaked your whole lower face, slick running freely down your chin, her thighs practically shaking on either side of your head. You keep your mouth open and your tongue working. Flicking, circling, teasing that perfect little stud until she’s panting, clawing at the headboard like it’s the only thing anchoring her.

“Shit. Shit! I’m gonna—oh, fuck—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

You slap her ass again, harder this time, and she shatters.

She comes with a cry that tears from her throat, full-bodied and raw. Her thighs clamp around your head, her whole body locking up as she grinds down, riding your mouth through it. Her slick floods you, dripping hot and fast over your lips, your chin, soaking the sheets even deeper.

You hold her there, let her grind it all out, hands braced tight on her hips as she rocks and shudders above you. Her breaths are wild, broken little gasps, and her chest heaves like she’s been sprinting.

Eventually, she starts to come down. Her thighs relax. Her grip on the headboard loosens. She slumps forward slowly, catching herself on her elbows above you, braid ends brushing against your collarbone.

She lets out a low, shaky laugh and looks down at you, eyes glassy and satisfied.

“Holy shit,” she breathes. Her eyes stay fixed on you for a beat longer before she lets out one sharp exhale. And then, just like that, her energy flips back on like a switch. The grin spreads across her face again, wicked and electric.

“Now it’s my turn to have some fun,” she says, bouncing up onto her knees. “Also, you should really get those wet clothes off. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold!”

You sit up slowly, skin sticky with sweat and slick, your head still spinning a little from how hard she came. “That wasn’t your fun?”

“Semantics!” she chirps, already rolling away from you. She crawls toward the foot of the bed, where there’s a battered metal chest tucked underneath. She lifts the lid and immediately starts digging through it, muttering under her breath as she tosses things aside.

“No, not that one...ugh, too much effort...ooh, could be fun...definitely this one.”

You take the moment to peel off the rest of your clothes. Bra, underwear, both soaked through and clinging to you. They land in the same messy pile as Jinx’s swimsuit. Your skin prickles in the cooler air, still flushed from before, and your legs instinctively rub together, already slick with fresh anticipation.

Jinx pops her head up from the trunk like a triumphant raccoon. “Hey,” she says, holding something out of sight in one hand. “You cool being tied up?”

You raise a brow. “Sure. Try anything once, right?”

Her grin widens. “Atta girl.”

She climbs back onto the bed and unceremoniously drops her findings at the base of it: a neatly coiled length of red rope, a small black vibrator, and a strap-on with a deep blue silicone dildo attached. The second she does, you feel a fresh wave of heat bloom low in your belly. Your breath catches slightly, thighs pressing together as your gaze lingers on the toy.

Jinx notices, of course.

“Already squirming,” she says, pleased. “God, you’re so easy.”

She crawls up the bed with deliberate slowness, rope in hand. You raise your arms without being asked, and she kneels beside you, beginning to tie them to the headboard with practiced ease. The rope is soft but firm, just rough enough to remind you that it’s there. The knot is tight, your wrists held snugly apart.

Once she’s satisfied with the tension, she leans down and gives you a long, unhurried kiss—her tongue slipping into your mouth, hands braced on either side of your ribs. The kiss is slower than before, but still hungry, like she’s staking a claim now. When she pulls away, you’re left breathless, chasing the taste of her on instinct.

Jinx slides back down the bed, settling between your thighs like she’s done it a thousand times. Her palms run slowly up your inner thighs, spreading you open.

“I’m leaving your legs free,” she says, kissing the crease of your thigh, then the other. “Which is so nice of me, by the way. But I need you to be good and keep them still, yeah?”

You nod quickly, breath shaky. “Yeah. Okay.”

She hums in approval and leans in, dragging her tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit in one long, slow lick.

Your head thunks back against the headboard. “Fuck.”

Jinx grins against you, nosing in deeper. “That’s kinda the idea.”

She keeps her hands on your thighs, gentle but grounding, as she dives back in with unrelenting attention. Her tongue moves with purpose. Circling, lapping, teasing.. She doesn’t rush it, just lets the tension build as you writhe under her, doing your best to keep still even as your legs twitch with every flick of her tongue.

And when she closes her lips around your clit and sucks, you actually gasp, wrists tugging uselessly at the rope. You draw one of your knees up, unsure of what exactly you intend to do with it. 

“Already twitching,” she says, voice muffled. “You’re so fucking cute like this.”

Jinx doesn’t rush.

Her tongue drags slow and deliberate against your clit, her fingers spreading you open to get a better angle. The rope binding your wrists digs in just enough to remind you of how helpless you are like this—laid out, arms stretched above your head, thighs trembling. You try to keep still like she asked, but it’s getting harder by the second.

She hums against you, the vibration making your whole body tense.

“You’re so wet it’s dripping,” she murmurs, grinning as she looks up at you. “It’s like your pussy’s crying for me.”

Your breath hitches, and your hips buck upward before you can stop them.

Jinx slaps your cunt lightly. “I said keep those still.”

“Sorry,” you gasp.

She shakes her head, mock-disappointed, and returns to her work like you’re a puzzle she’s not quite finished solving. Her mouth is merciless: tongue circling your clit in tight, teasing laps, then flattening against it to give you just enough pressure to almost fall apart. Her fingers slip inside you slow and shallow at first, then curling just enough to drag against that sweet spot before pulling back again.

It builds. It burns. Your whole body starts to tighten.

“Jinx—” you warn, voice already wobbling.

She pulls back with a wet pop, her chin shiny. “Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Not yet.”

You whine, body shaking, the denial hitting hard. Your legs twitch, thighs trying to close, but she’s already pressing them back open, settling between them again with that same infuriating smirk.

“You’re gonna be a mess, huh?” she says, almost admiring. “Can’t even take a little teasing.”

“A little?” Your voice cracks, breathless.

She just laughs and reaches for the vibrator.

It’s small and sleek, and she turns it on to a low, steady hum before nestling it right against your clit. You jolt like you’ve been shocked. It’s perfect. Too perfect.

She slides two fingers back inside you and begins to fuck you slow, curling just right—again and again. The vibe stays pressed in place as her free hand comes to pin your hip. You can’t move. Can’t run. All you can do is take it.

The pressure builds too fast. You bite your lip so hard it almost bleeds.

“I—I’m gonna—” you choke.

Jinx immediately pulls the vibe away.

You cry out, full-body shaking as the orgasm rips away from you like it was stolen.

She grins, unbothered. “Oops. Timing’s a bitch, huh?”

You’re panting, chest heaving. “Please.”

“Oh, we’re begging already? Thought you’d have a little more fight in you.”

She repeats the whole thing again—mouth and fingers and vibe—and once more drags you to the brink only to yank it away. You can’t even form words the third time. Your eyes start to water, your hips squirming, desperate for friction.

Jinx looks up and laughs. Full, delighted laughter, like this is the best show she’s seen in weeks.

“You crying, babe?” she coos, tilting her head. “God, you’re so hot like this. Look at you.”

You try to blink the tears away, but they fall anyway, tracing down into your hair.

Her smile turns wicked. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your body jerks. “No!. No—please don’t stop.”

She hums, licking her lips. “I dunno. I’ve always been moved by begging.”

You nod, breath breaking apart. “Please, Jinx. Please let me come. I can’t take it, I need it. Need you. I’ll be good, I swear, just…please. Please let me.”

She watches you for a second, then lets out a satisfied sigh. “God, I love when you get pathetic.”

She reaches for the strap-on.

You’re barely coherent by the time she gets it situated on you: adjusting the harness, then placing the vibrator so it presses directly against your swollen clit, held snug by the base of the strap. She climbs back over you, straddling your hips, and leans in to kiss you. Slow, filthy, tongue dragging against yours.

Then she pulls back just enough to speak.

“You wanna come?” she asks, grinding her hips forward just enough to tease the tip against her entrance. “Then do it. But I’m not stopping until I get mine.”

Jinx sinks down onto the strap with a hiss, her fingers digging into your sides as she adjusts to the size, her mouth open, her brow pinched just slightly in that way you now know means she likes it. She rocks her hips once, experimentally, then twice—finding the rhythm.

And then she takes off.

There’s no buildup, no slow tease. She starts fucking herself on you fast and filthy, bouncing with reckless abandon. The sound of her thighs slapping against yours fills the room, joined by the wet suck of her pussy as she takes every inch. She leans back just a bit, bracing one hand behind her on your thigh for leverage, her other hand squeezing one of her own bouncing tits, fingers brushing over the silver barbell through her nipple.

Your mouth is open but no sound comes out at first—just panting breaths and the electric buzz of the vibrator grinding into your clit, steady and relentless under the base of the harness. Every time she comes down hard, the strap shifts just right and the toy pulses deep against you. It’s impossibly good.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so good at that,” you whine, your hands twitching with the desire to touch her.

Jinx just laughs, wild and breathless. “I know.”

She slams herself down again, harder this time, and your entire body jumps. The vibrator doesn’t let up—it keeps pressing into your clit, low and constant, while Jinx fucks herself like she’s chasing the end of the world.

Her tits bounce with every movement, small and perfect and pierced, the metal flashing in the low light. Her body is slick with sweat or maybe lingering water, thighs trembling slightly from exertion, but she doesn't slow. If anything, she gets rougher.

You’re already close. Too close. That hum against your clit and the friction where her body meets yours is maddening. Every time she grinds down, you swear sparks go off behind your eyes.

Your nails dig into your palm as you orgasm comes rushing into the edges of your body.

“Jinx…Jinx, I’m gonna—”

“Oh, please do,” she pants, breath catching. “You earned it.”

And that’s all it takes.

You come hard, almost violently, the orgasm crashing over you in white-hot waves. Your back arches, the rope around your wrists straining as you cry out, legs shaking beneath her. The pressure from the vibrator doesn't stop—it forces you through it, even as your muscles lock and your vision blurs.

But Jinx doesn’t stop.

She keeps going, riding you through it with a desperate rhythm, hips still snapping down, her moans going high and ragged now. She’s losing it, right on the edge.

Your hands twitch, helpless, overstimulated, but she’s using your body like a toy now—her toy.

Her breath stutters. “Shit—shit—fuck—”

And then she falls apart.

She slams down one last time and shudders, hard, crying out as her pussy clamps around the strap and her thighs tremble uncontrollably. She collapses forward with a choked sound, her entire body going limp against you as the aftershocks hit her in waves.

She doesn’t move for a long moment—just pants against your neck, the both of you sweating and tangled and shaking. Her breath is warm on your skin. Her arms wrap around your torso, clinging, grounding herself.

-

Later, the two of you are curled up on her couch again, the chaos of the earlier hours now a warm buzz in your bones. You're both wrapped in oversized robes—hers patterned with flames, yours borrowed and far too soft. Jinx is stretched across the cushions with her head in your lap, her damp braids spilling down over your thighs. She’s playing with your fingers, twisting them gently, brushing her thumb along your knuckles like she’s trying to memorize the shape of them.

She lifts your hand suddenly and bites down on the fleshy part of your palm—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you jolt.

“Ow,” you mutter, staring down at her.

“You’re very biteable,” she says with a grin, nuzzling your wrist like it’s nothing.

You should be floating. You were floating. But now, with your head clear and the room quiet, something heavier settles in your chest. That creeping sense of reality creeping back in. The part where you leave, and she goes back to being Jinx, Jinx, and this all becomes a story you tell yourself on lonely nights to prove it happened.

Jinx stills slightly. Her fingers stop playing. She glances up at you, brows drawn together. “You’re being loud,” she says softly.

“I’m not saying anything.”

She tilts her head. “Yeah, but your brain’s shouting.”

You try to laugh it off, but it comes out thin. “It’s nothing. Just…post-nut clarity. Happens to the best of us.”

She doesn't let it go. “What are you worried about?”

You sigh and meet her eyes. She's watching you too closely.

“That I’ll leave,” you admit, “and you’ll forget I exist. That this was just…a one-time thing with a hot fan and you’ll move on to the next one. And I’ll just go back to normal life, pretending this wasn’t the best night of my life.”

In a truly humiliating turn of events, you feel the sudden urge to cry.

Jinx stares at you a second longer. Then she smirks, gentler this time. “Wow. Dramatic.”

You open your mouth, but she reaches up and tugs your face down so she can kiss you. It’s short, soft, but enough to make your heart lurch.

“I’m not gonna forget you,” she murmurs. “You’re way too fun to play with.”

You blink at her, stunned. “That’s it? That’s the bar?”

“It’s a great bar.” She grins and sits up, snatching her phone from the coffee table. “Now give me your number before you give yourself a heart attack.”

You rattle it off, and she types it in with one hand, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. The moment is cut short by a loud beep from the laundry room.

“Hey, that’s you,” Jinx says. “Clothes are done. Guess I’ve gotta let you go, huh?”

You nod, heart heavy even as you smile. She leans in and kisses your cheek before hopping off the couch.

-

A week later… 

JINX: sending u tix for our vegas show! im gonna ride u into the sunset <33

don’t worry abt plane tix either, mama’s got it handled

Another message follows a few seconds later.

JINX: see you soon, superfan 💋

You don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!!): @izzy-sevika, @shxdy0ariia, @sevikas-whore

[nohhhdrr]

I love this so much more then the other thread to be honest. I mean i did cry but Tim never knew Danny was his soulmate. I'm not sure he ever knew he even had one. Tim was young at the time. No one explained anything to him. Maybe after finding some case of rejected soulmate going crazy and doing "if i can't have you no one can" he finds out bout the whole soulmate writing on your skin. Danny truly did fuck up. He was very affected emotionally and was hurting. So he lashed out. And considering he was 16 in this thread? (I'm not sure for how long he stayed antagonizing tim in the other one) Yep. I can see that. So both of them now grown up. Both supposedly having moved on from each other, right? But now adult tim (which i'm pretty sure means 21-25. Danny was affected by Tim's rejection for a very long time but these types of things can make you burn out. And after a second rejection? Yeah. Danny VERY hurt but ultimately he burned out. His brain just decided he can't spare any more energy on this emotional wreck of a ride) has to feel the rejection Danny felt all time when they were teens. I wanna see if it would drive him up the wall like it did to Danny back in the day or would Tim keep himself in his tight grip of self-control. Considering how unhinged (usually in a good way) Tim is on a normal day? Yeahhh... I think he would not handle it well. Especially if we remember how obsessive he was in his cloning days. (Actually, now that I think about it, what if because of the Tim's cloning thing the whole batfam (and probably Tim's team minus Tim and maybe Kon) think Kon was Tim's soulmate and that's why they never thought the possibility of this being why Danny was so obsessed with Tim in his teens?) I want the whole batfam clicking the pieces together while Tim is bluescreen-ing and obsessing in the back ground. Just Danny being "yeah my bad. yeah... sorry... yeah." and scratching the back of his head. Like HE moved on and for him it's just awkward and embarrassing now. Like how some boys had experience of being in the mind set of "nice guy" while having a crush a selebrity (and probably sending dm-s to that selebrity). THAT would be the level of embarrassment, awkward-ness and guilt he would feel. For danny? It's low stakes now. He got through it and now can finally look at the situation objectively, without the overwhelming amount of emotions clouding his judgement. Yeah it was his bad for lashing out and not communicating at all. There are a few hiccups and some pretty rash actions on batfam's side of things but overall? Yeah.. Sorry I was such a mess back then. It's okay if you don't forgive me. I did cause a lot of greif for all of you. I can give you all a few favors as compensation.

He doesn't even look at Tim anymore. He saw that he wasn't listening and decided to not waste time, just explain everything to his ex-soulmate's family and then go back to his lair.

He has his duties to fulfill (And if we want to hurt timmy more, we can have him taking care of his children (which magic community would supposedly know about. They didn't know HE was the king but they DID know about the new king and his children, for example) that just were cores of all the dead, terminated and or still cryo-sleeping clones that Vlad made back in the day. We can have him save each clone with the help of clockwork or only save those that were in cryo-pods to minimise the sheer amount of children he has to raise.)

Just Danny felling awkward and a bit guilty on his end while Tim is having to grapple with the overwhelming feelings of quiet rejection on his end. Danny did make Tim feel something while he was antagonizing him back then. But Tim? he would have no chance of doing the same now. Danny seen everything. Danny moved on

@gilbirda Ok, so you made a snippet of on of your AUs a while back (braindead rejected! soulmate i think) and I haven't been able to think of much else since. So my brain made a little thingy for you!

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

1. Tim takes a risk one day by writing back to whoever was doodling on his body, with a glittery purple gel pen, asking them to stop trying to contacting him.

All the person asked was, "Why?"

Tim never answers.

2. Danny faces constant rejection from his peers, authority figures, his parents and sister neglect him and now his own soulmate doesn't want him. They hadn't even met before he was rejected. Jazz finds out about Dannys powers and tries to reach out but Danny rejects her pretty violently due to his own pain. Then the episode where Sam and Tucker ditch him for Gregor happens and he gives up.

The two people in his life that has had pretty much complete control over his life and trajectory just abandoned him and he does not take it well. He ripped the symbol off his chest, disappeared and never came back.

3. Danny zooms into a new dimension/universe/whatever to avoid his former friends and family from being able to track him only to land in a place called Central City and immediately getting roped into helping Captain Cold who gives him a normal domino mask and they end up working together for a while.

4. Danny somehow overhears one of the speedster talking on the phone about his friends brothers soulmate issue at some point and they perfectly describe the interaction that happened between Danny and his soulmate all those years ago, down to the glittery purple gel pen and the types of doodles Danny had made as a kid and the things he said.

Danny learned one of his soulmates belonged to a group of detective vigilantes in a place called Gotham. Unfortunately he was spotted by the speedster and Danny had to bounce.

5. The Flash made reports to the Justice League about a meta teen who hes been having trouble with for a while and can't seem to pin down. He only asked for tips though as he "could handle it himself."

6. Danny leaves for Gotham and learned about Catwoman and Batmans weird Master Thief and Greatest Detective dynamic and decided that's what he wants to do. He was going to make his soulmate chase after him one way or another. Someone was going to want him even if they were wanting him behind bars.

He begins robbing bank vaults and museums, leaving no trace or clue as to what happened until he starts leaving a calling card of sorts.

7. Jason, who's been on the outs with his family lately meets this spunky white haired meta kid running around with a sci-fi mask/visor thing and giving supplies to homeless encampments and keeping the less fortunate alive and befriends him. He learns that this is the guy everyone has been searching for and just...tells no one. Jason is all for a Robin Hood vigilante, and really, its kinda funny to see his family squirm.

8. Phantom and Catwoman rob the same museum at the same time but for different things. They stare at eachother from where they're both still crouched from thier respective landings until Danny breaks the tension with "I didn't see you if you didn't see me?"

Catwoman laughs, amused. "Sure."

9. Danny finally narrowed down which of the batfam is his soulmate and introduced himself to them as Phantom.

The first thing Danny did was hit on Tim. Tim is flustered but otherwise doesn't really respond to it and tries to fight Phantom into submission, so of course Danny ghosts him by disappearing through a roof mid fight. Danny made a big show of his intangibility in that fight and made it seem like it was the only power he had but he was very skilled with it and he wanted to impress him.

10. Phantom becomes well known to the underbelly of Gotham. Mostly the homeless and nightworkers. But Danny was open and friendly. Never judging and always ready to lend a helping hand. Even better. He never came to collect on favors.

Over time, they became loyal to him.

11. Danny gets framed for a series of murders and the whole gang (minus Hood) are trying to capture him, thus, motorcycle chase scene. They use the white of his tires to tell when he's gone intangible due to all the dirt falling off the wheels. Nightwing jumps onto the bike and shocks Danny with his encrizma sticks right before Danny grits out "bye bye birdy~" and makes a big show of taking in a deep breath and holding it.

Nightwing is forced to jump off the bike as Danny runs through the concrete abutment of the overpass and coming out the other side

12. Danny meets Tim and Duke in his civilian form while he was at a Wayne tech conference. Danny had been asked about one of his inventions and was trying to show off the blueprints and explain things and thats why he was there in the first place. Duke of course, was internally screaming because that's the guy thats the guy they've been hunting for nearly a year but can find nothing on.

Red Robin confronts Phantom that night on a rooftop and Phantom laughs at him, "Thats why I was avoiding Signal for so long. He'd see my magical girl form and know instantly."

RR holds out a pair of handcuffs and says "Its over Danny." Phantom smirks and says, "I don't think it is, Tim" before jumping off onto a different roof and disappearing into the night. Tim is shook.

13. Danny over hears Robin berating RR at an old clocktower and intervenes, "Little Wayne, you do realize you were the first person I figured out, right?"

Damian proceeds to lose his mind.

14. Tim accidentally finds a material that Phantom can't phase through and quickly gets to work making things he can use against Danny. What he doesn't know is that Danny can phase through it he just pretended he couldn't because he wanted to see what would happen/what Tim would do.

Danny can sense the material and it feels really wierd to him, but doesn't harm him at all.

15. RR manages to knock Phantoms visor off his face and realizing it was made of tech he swipes it and brings it back to the cave for study.

He wasn't ready for all the information on the computer. Not only was his nemesis(?) from another plain of reality (he thinks Danny is from the ghost zone) but he was once a superhero with his own Rogues Gallery and human city to protect. Which begs the question, why did he become a Phantom thief?

16. The Joker hears about Phantom giving the bats the run around and comes to a misunderstanding about which bat he's been messing with which ultimately ends with Joker saying that he is Batmans ultimate nemesis and Phantom asking what that had to do with him? The misunderstanding is cleared up when Phantom complained about Joker even thinking that he was flirting with Batman because "Ew! He's an old man!"

Joker still got a few shots in for the heck of it but so did our ghost boy but they were no longer enemies.

17. The whole batfam had been freaking out about finally capturing Phantom and celebrating and plotting on how they were gonna get him to keep his mouth shut about thier identities until Jason came in,

Jason: Need help?

Phantom: Please?

Jason: *escapes with Danny*

Batfam: What?! No!!! Why?!

18. The batfam have only a vague idea of the Robin Hood thing going on. They know he's doing it just not to the extent its gone to. They find out later on that Phantom had been working with RH and his gang to sell off the items and most of the profits go to helping people. Other times he strait up gives jewelry and whatnot to children and working girls because "Everyone deserves something pretty, and even if its not your style you can keep it for a rainy day"

Phantom quickly gains a following and Danny doesn't even know about it. Clueless indeed.

19. Dannys main motivation in this is essentially just playing Cops and Robbers with Red Robin. Nothing else really matters to him. Not the robberies, not the fact he's working with a crime lord, not even his own safety matters much to him anymore. Hes readily zooming down the path of self destruction and Hood starts telling his family stuff, but only because he was genuinely worried about "Casper" crashing and burning.

20. No one knows why Phantom is fixated on Red Robin. He refuses to tell them. Red thinks its just because he's the smartest of the bats and he's not entirely wrong.

21. Danny legit started scheduling his heists with Tim to ensure they're both free after one couldn't make it too many times which blew the birds mind. Phantom must have been just that confident that he would always win. The bats eventually think Danny will stop stealing if RR isn't in the city for a long period of time. Danny more or less followed him and stole stuff from whatever city Tim was in. If there wasn't any museums or banks then Danny would steal a local landmark. Tim still wasn't sure how Phantom stole an entire building that one time but it had never been seen since.

22. Hood grows to be very protective of our favorite ghost boy. They bond and are actually really close. Danny admits he always wanted an older brother.

23. Tim goes off world for a while to see how Danny would react and Danny just...drops off the radar. No one knows where he is and after a week or two they start getting worried.

Tim returns after three months and Danny reappears two weeks after him with a tan and keepsakes from the places he visited on his vacation. Tim later screams into his pillow.

24. Tim has made it his personal mission to figure out who Danny really is, why he's fixated on him, where he came from, ect. Hes trying so hard but can't find anything. Its almost like he didn't exist before. Tim suddenly got an idea after Phantom accidentally got hit in the face and got a nosebleed. Tim saw green blood and immediately realized Danny might not even be human. Fortunately for our little ghost, he thinks he's an alien. A Martian specifically. Tim manages to snag a good sample from treating Phantoms wounds. Ghostboy was so focus on his core thrumming and mentally comparing it to his heart racing that he didn't even notice.

25. Tim later freaks out because the meta is freaking made out of Lazarus water.

The entire batfam was not happy to discover this and decided to work together to pressure Phantom into telling them what he was and what exactly he wanted.

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 04. For love is all the reasoning we need

PREV PART trigger warnings: narrator is mean to Name, internalised ableism, talks about cults, anger, cringy first date start, medical + emotional + physical neglect main m.list      series m.list

Damian never understood you, and he never will. It’s something he had chosen to accept the day you ran away. Unlike his father he isn’t foolish, he isn’t a stranger to your passive face. He is no stranger to the kind eyes you used to look at him, and he’s no stranger to them turning into disappointment.

He had made his own bed, and he has lied in it. It’s why he doesn’t bother John when he rambles about Conner finally going on a date. It is why he doesn’t push John when he suddenly stops talking and looks around nervously. For he knows, Conner has always had eyes on you.

Damian loves you, but he can’t love you in the way you need. So he’ll stand back, he’ll keep you from being found. But Jason is tracking you down quicker than you can blink, he needs to get a message out.

So he opens Tim’s phone, truly for their second tech savvy team member you would have hoped he had a better password. A password that didn’t take him 10 seconds to guess, but then again, often the most intelligent of us make the most foolish mistakes. For those consumed with fear and greed never make the right choices.

It’s why Damian could still never be like you. You, who could have been the perfect vigilante had you not been so weak. So as your blood brother, he will be the one keeping you safe.

He just needs to copy down Conner’s phone number and send the text. But can he? Does he have a right to intervene with your life when you’ve made it clear that this family is not something you want? But do you truly not want them? Are you just protecting yourself? Are you worried that their attention will be even more painful than their rejection?

To an extent Damian can understand you, so he’ll text you. For it is time to not think of his own greed and thoughts. It’s time to think of yours as Jason basically hunts you down. For it’s you who will have to live with the consequences, not him.

When Conner got a cryptic text he immediately know from who it was. The language is consistence with your youngest brother. Damian Wayne, your only blood related sibling. And the only one he knows you would give another chance.

For you resent Tim the most, as a fellow child of neglect you had expected him to speak up more. Yet it was his best friend who defended you, who included you. While you are no longer angry at Tim, that hurt will never disappear. Even when you understand that his actions were motivated for the fear of abandonment.

But Damian, the child of the Cult. The child who only knew Jason, the child who is now telling Conner to watch out for the same man he sees as a brother long before he acknowledged Dick as family.

So here he is waiting for you as he stares at Damian’s text, he’s so deep in thoughts he doesn’t see you as you wave at him. He’s with his heads in the clouds and he crashes down the moment you tap him on his shoulder. Not because he’s disappointed to see you, no never. Not when you look like Aphrodite blessed her yourself, not when you look at him with your kind and hopeful eyes.

“You scared me,” Conner says, his breath almost caught in his throat as the sun makes you shine ever brighter. Gods, it’s as if you are glowing. If he didn’t know better he would call you a mutant for how his heart stops every time he sees you smile.

You chuckle, and Conner swears that it sounds like bells. He swears that he can he feel your warmth, even when he knows it’s from the sun.

“I can see that,” you tease him with a laugh as you ruffle his hair. The hair he took a great deal to tidy up, something that looks unnatural. “way better, now you actually look like yourself.”

With that you stepped inside of the dinner and Conner had to hold his breath. He knew he had done his hair in a new way, but he wouldn’t have dreamt of you noticing. And most of all that you noticed he felt uncomfortable.

Gods, you are getting better with every minute, aren’t you?

…. You aren’t, truly you’ve always been like this. Even with all the misfortune in your life you would never ask someone to change, even if it would be in your favour. Doesn’t he know? You like him for him, not for a manufactured idea of him.

In his mind this is the great start of a first date (for a second he forgot the text Damian has send him), but for you? You are panicking as you quickly find a secluded booth as you attempt to calm your breathing. You know your face isn’t as reactive as you are internally, truly you’ve mastered a poker face without ever playing. It would be impressive if the reason wasn’t so pathetic, as you would rather die than show anyone how the pain you feel haunts you.

It’s also the one thing Conner dislikes about you, for your facial expressions are something he adores. You look so pretty when you frown, you look hot when you look at him as if you know all he’s thinking. You look so cool when you roll your eyes, for it is never in contempt. It is always done in a manner of; “I know you mean well to an extent, but please shut your mouth.”

Some would say you look ignorant and arrogant with that poker face, when Conner had just met you he would have agreed. But now he knows the twitches of your pupils, he knows how your fingers tap the table. He knows all your clues, he just wishes you showed them with all your might.

But you won’t.

As said before; you hate showing your facial expressions as they always betray the pain you are feeling. As they always betray how you hold your hands so that they don’t tremble with every pain attack you have.

But that is not something you should focus on right now. You are on a date, your focus should be on him. Don’t be selfish… You don’t want to become the person Alfred told you you were, now do you?

So suck it up, pretend nothing is wrong as anxiety and pain crawls up your spine. As your whole body screams at you for relief, you want this date. So finish it.

NEXT PART

Taglist OPEN: @wisefuncherryblossom, @ichbswa, @vndexd,@nymphzy0, @lettucel0ver, @galaxypurplerose, @yuyuzi-ling, @princessbonnie-bell, @1abi, @ichbswa, @n-lol, @sereinitysmind, @mei-simp, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @bellethesleepypotato, @c4xcocoa, @staarflowerr, @funtimekoda14

[shysuccubusstuff]

Milking time pt. 2

Content: Cow Hybrid! Caleb + Rancher! reader + Non proof-reader; Masturbation + Scent kink + Breeding kink + Size difference + Cunnilingus + Tummy bulge

Note: I was listening to one of these NSFW audios and I just got inspired so yeah, here it is! Idk if people want to hear it tho :P It's not really related to the actual content, but I just liked it ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ I can't believe I've been writing this for more than three days, sometimes my brain just doesn't want to cooperate cause I keep realising I may sound a bit repetitive at times... I hope you all like it!! (๑>◡<๑)

It had been quite a few months since Cow Hybrid! Caleb had been able to sneak into your bedroom, his cock about to burst as he basically begged you for help. Still, you had been unable to act as you had used to, your whole body reacting each time his calloused hands got close to you, your mind being suddenly flowed by the images, the feeling of your hands rubbing his... How were you supposed to work as always after that? Anyone would probably understand your position! Well, anyone except Caleb, of course.

Since that had happened, he had become even clingier than usual, constantly following around you like a lost puppy, his ears lowered as he tried to hide his huge frame behind a wooden post, his tail peaking from it even regardless of how much he tried to stop it from showing. He didn't really understand what was up with your sudden change in attitude, he had been your favourite since he had arrived, was it because of something he had done? Maybe you had started to hate him and wanted him dead? He would happily send himself to the closest butchery if it meant making you happy again.

Luckiily for him, the perfect chance for the two of you to be together after your dear aunt told you to go to the city a couple of hours away, as the most important fair for ranchers was about to begin. She briefly explained what you had to do, simply listening to the many conferences regarding the possible changes for the ranchers' rights and privileges, simple enough, right? Still, your aunt told you to go with Caleb, as he had never been there, and you really needed some "buff man" just for some of the ranchers to take you seriously, as annoying as it was.

With all said and done, your aunt prepared everything you both could possibly need, from your clothes to many different delicious plates in case the two of you missed her. She kissed both of your foreheads, waving goodbye at the two of you before going back to her chores.

Well, all left was spending the next five days there, it was fine, what could possibly go wrong?

The first three days had gone smoothly, with the two of you spending as little time as possible, constantly going around the fair talking to the many old friends of your aunt, letting them ramble about how it was when they were younger and similar anecdotes, with Caleb simply following you around like a lost puppy, staying in complete silence during the whole day, as you quickly fell asleep as soon as your face hit the pillow.

Caleb knew that he had to be patient, after all, despite hybrids are quite similar to humans, they did still present various differences, specially when it came to this kind of thing. He knew it, he kept reminding himself of that. But it was to no avail, really. His chest kept hurting each time he saw you speaking to all those other men, always smiling at them as they talked to you about some unimportant matter. Still, he couldn't help but act that way, rummaging around your luggage to look for his prize. It took him a while to find them, but as soon as he did he could already feel his head getting lighter, his face now buried on the soft fabric, inhaling with force, his hand already trailing down his body and removing all the buttons that kept his lower hidden. He got up, moving to the small bathroom and sitting on the toilet, muffling his moans with your underwear as he moved his hand up and down, his chest moving up and down as his breath quickened.

This kept going for a while, with Caleb trying his best to muffle his moans as much as he could, whispering soft praises to you even despite you were still asleep. "So good... You smell so good... Can't wait to breed you..." Small tears came running down his cheeks, the tip of his cock leaking as he saw the floor stained from his cum. "I'm sorry... I'm trying so hard for you... Just for you... Ugh... I love you, I love you..." Caleb whimpered as he finally felt like his head was a bit less crowded from lewd thoughts about you, the shame starting to make his face feel quite hot.

Caleb finally reached his limit by the night of the fourth day. The two of you were supposed to leave the next morning around the early morning, as you had already planned helping your sweet aunt with all the farm work that she may have been unable to do due to her old age.

Just as you were about to throw yourself to the bed, Caleb tugged from your pajama, his soft ears lowered as much as possible as fat tears fell down his face. "How much are you planning to ignore me? I know I misbehaved but I don't want you to keep on ignoring me... Please." Caleb got on his knees, his hands and head rubbing against your hands as a way to calm himself down. "If you really hated it, I won't ever do it again... I'll let you find someone for me to be with... Just don't ignore me... I can't... I just can't handle it. I've been trying to, these past couple days... I don't think I can go any longer without you." Caleb gaze lifted from the floor, looking at you with his purple eyes glistening under the dim lights.

"I... I'm sorry, Caleb. It's just that, I kind of... Well, I kept getting like, reminders of well, what happened between us and I kind of... couldn't help but feel a bit, ashamed?... About it, anyways, I didn't mean to hurt you, Caleb. You know you're my favourite, right?" You caressed Caleb's cheeks, petting his hair and moving it away so you could see his full face. Caleb pressed his face against the palm of your hands, his expression lightening up, suddenly getting up from the floor and getting on top of you, his cheeks flushing from pure bliss.

"Really?! You don't hate me? I'm so glad! I just... I'm sorry. My... my body seems to have become, attached to your scent, so each time I smell you it's... It's just too much for my body." Caleb moved away, sitting by your side and letting you see just how much it had affected him. "I'm sorry... I'm really trying so hard to keep myself on check... Just, I just didn't want to keep on using them without your knowledge... Let me just go to the bathroom, I'll be back---" You grabbed his hand, forcing him to sit back down on the bed and keeping your hand tightly grapped around his. "I... I can help you a bit, just if you want--" Caleb moved swiftly, suddenly having you under him once again, his hand already removing his overalls together with his undershirt.

"I'll be careful, if I hurt you just pull from my horns, ok?" Caleb started to kiss your whole face, leaving soft pecks as he slowly made his way towards your neck, his right hand massaging around your tummy, then removing your trousers together with your underwear in the blink of an eye, leaving them on the bed before focusing once again on you. "Such a pretty pussy... It looks so tasty... Let me just have a little taste, please?" Caleb moved down, getting on his knees on the floor before pulling from you by your ankles in order to get you to be close to te edge of the bed. He carefully put both legs on his shoulders, opening them with his hands before starting to leave soft kisses all over your lower half, your hands petting his hair as a way to avoid squirming as much as possible. "No running from me, baby." Caleb smiled, his mouth suddenly starting to suck on your clit as he used his fingers to play with your entrance, only moving up and down so as to lubricate his fingers. "So good, pips... Keep calm, I'm in charge right now." Caleb went back to focusing on his task, his tongue lapping your poor clit with his long tongue, one of his fingers slowly entering you, slowly opening you as he kept playing with that sensitive bud, making your whole body squirm as the stimulation started to feel a bit overwhelming.

Not like it really mattered to Caleb, his mind already far too gone from eating you out, that delicious scent making his mind go blank regardless of how hard you tried to get him to slow down, ignoring all the soft hits on his shoulder together with all the pleas each time you came all over his tongue. It wasn't until your whole body was about to give up on you, your legs trembling as if you had been working out for far too long, that you chose to grab his horns, his eyes finally focusing on you, getting away from your poor overstimulated pussy as he finally took a deep breath. "So-sorry! I got a bit lost there, promise I will behave next... Can we keep going?" Caleb looked at you with those sweet puppy eyes, his hands massaging your love handles as he waited for your response.

"Just... Just the tip, ok? Your cock is too big for me to... uhm... take." Caleb nodded, grabbing his cock with his right hand and giving your entrance a few slaps on the entrance, his eyes once again completely glued on the way your entrance kept twitching each time he hit it with the tip of his cock. Caleb moved his hands for a moment, holding both of your hands as his cock started to make his way inside you.

"Take a deep breath, pips... I'm still putting in the tip..." Caleb kept kissing your lips as his cock entered you, the stretch making you feel as if you were about to break just from the pressure that you felt in your tummy. "There... It wasn't so hard, right? Now we can take as much time as you need, no need to rush..." Caleb now focused on kissing your sweaty face, his eyes glistening with the pure feeling of love, hands interlocked as he forced himself to remain as still as he could.

And you knew you were supposed to stay still, let your body get accustomed to the... length. Still, you just had to prove yourself, wrapping your legs around his hips before suddenly pressing against his hips, forcing the weight of Caleb to rely against your smaller frame, the sudden pressure making all the air leave your lungs before you could take a deep breath as Caleb immediately moved away, his expression changing to one of concern as his eyes checked for any sign of discomfort. This concern soon changed into a slightly annoyed look, his eyes becoming a bit darker the moment he focused on your entrance. "Guess it's my fault for not expecting it... Since you want to be a brat, may as well treat you like one." Caleb smile turned a bit sadistic, lifting your whole body with ease as he moved the two of you towards the end of the bed, sitting just in front of the mirror. "Make sure to get your brain to remember this, baby." Caleb kept you still, slowly entering you. You clenched your eyes shut as the slighty painful stretch took place, trying your best to avoid seeing the lewd image of your pussy being forced open by Caleb's cock. After all, it wasn't as if you were able to do much more, with Caleb holding both your legs on a tight grip as a way to get you to keep the image as a reminder.

Despite Caleb's attempt of scaring you, he knew exactly just how important it was for you to get completely used to it, getting the horses to act as they should. "Now open wide..." Caleb moved, lifting your whole body with his arms, slowly lowering it as he slowly forced the tip of his cock inside, bitting his lips as he tried his best to keep calm. "Just like that... Relax, I ain't running nowhere, don't squeeze me so hard, pips... It's hard to stay calm." Caleb kissed the top of your head, letting you rest your back against his chest as he was finally able to bottom down once more, the feeling of being full being just enough for you to feel as if you were out of breath.

"Caleb~... You're too big..." You whined, the feeling mixing with the heat that you kept feeling on your face as you noticed the bulge that had formed on your tummy, forcing you to hide your face just as a way to avoid seeing it. As soon as Caleb noticed that, he removed them from your face, using one of his hands to force you to look into your reflection. "No running, pips, gotta make sure you get a detailed view of just how good I can make you feel." Caleb wrapped his arms around the back of your knees, making sure that you got a perfect view of the way your pussy greedily ate his cock each time he pull a bit of it out, making it an almost hypnotising view, seeing it enter you, then suddenly pulling away before giving you a kind smile, almost as if he was mocking you each time you tried to squirm away from his iron grip.

It took you just a few minutes to finally get used to the feeling, turning what were soft whines into lewd moans that kept escaping from your lips, eyes rolling back each time Caleb rubbed against that slightly rough spot. Suddenly, Caleb moved one of his arms, keeping your whole body lifted with just one arm as he used the free one to rub your tummy, making small pressure every now and then each time he pushed his whole lenght inside, ignoring each high pitched moan and whine that left your lips every time he forced you to cum all around his huge cock. "Caleb!... Too much, can't keep cumming! Please, please~...!" Caleb ignored you once more, kissing the top of your head as he kept hammering your gummy walls, making sure to stay a few seconds outside before forcing his lenght rapidly inside. "Sorry pips... I gotta make sure I get you all full~... Gotta prove I'm the best one for you." Caleb kept this fast rhythm for a while, bitting softly on your neck each time he came inside you, "a way to mark you" he said.

By the time you were finally released from his grip, the digital clock was already far past 02:00, your whole body sticky from the sweat, together with the mixture of your fluids, and the semen that was slowly leaving your pussy. Just as you were about to simply let yourself fall asleep from the exhaustion, Caleb took your body, carrying it to the warm bath and letting you sit on the tub that had already been filled. "Gotta make sure you feel comfortable enough to sleep, can't have you seeing aunty all dried up." Caleb peppered soft kisses all over your face, rubbing a warm towel all over your body and letting you fall asleep with ease as you felt him clean all your body.

[yumyumcherryy]

yearned.

you were stretched out across the couch, one leg half-hanging off the edge, face buried in a pillow, phone loosely in hand as some low-volume playlist murmured through the speaker.

you weren’t expecting rin home so soon—training usually dragged, but maybe today had been a little more brutal than usual, because suddenly, the front door slammed shut.

hard.

you lifted your head sluggishly, barely getting the chance to call out his name before—

thump.

a weight crashed over your midsection, and you let out a soft “oomph” as itoshi rin collapsed on top of you, limbs heavy and sprawling like a tree felled by its own exhaustion. his head buried itself onto your stomach, his arms winding possessively around your waist like some clingy, brooding sea creature.

“...hi to you too,” you mumbled through a chuckle, free hand instinctively sinking into his hair, fingers finding the familiar soft tufts and green-streaked strands.

he grunted.

that was his version of “hello.”

you didn't say anything else—just let your fingers move gently, twisting and curling little locks of his hair around them, occasionally letting your nails scrape lightly against his scalp. it was grounding. comforting. for him, especially.

he sighed. deeply. the kind that made your shirt flutter a little where his cheek was pressed.

“i hate everyone,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled and low.

you smiled. “oh?”

“mhm.” another sigh. “practice was a mess. bachira wouldn’t shut up, isagi kept doing this thing where he’d tell me to ‘relax more’—like i don’t know how to f*cking relax—and don’t even get me started on the drills. a bunch of barely functioning cones with legs. my passes were clean, mine, but apparently they can’t keep up. whose fault is that, really?”

“you sound very relaxed right now,” you teased softly, carding your fingers through the back of his hair.

“i am relaxed. that’s because i’m here.”

your heart fluttered, but you tried not to let it show. “oh? that’s all it takes?”

“no. you. just you.”

and then, like it was nothing, he buried his face further into your stomach and…inhaled.

you froze.

it wasn’t the first time. you’d noticed it before—this subtle pause whenever his face was pressed against your shirt. the way his lashes would lower, nose nudging just enough, like he was trying to pretend it was absentminded. but you knew better.

“…did you just sniff me?” you asked, amused, one brow arched.

“no,” he replied instantly, so quickly it became obvious. a dead giveaway.

“riiinn,” you sang, voice lilting with a knowing smirk.

he groaned. his grip on you tightened, face now actively burrowing into your shirt like an ostrich. “don’t make it weird.”

“you made it weird.”

“you just…you smell nice. like you. and home. and not that dumb locker room.”

you grinned. he always got a little more unfiltered when tired—edges softened, tongue looser, heart a little louder.

another pause.

“i missed you today,” he muttered.

your hand stilled, then resumed its slow strokes. “you saw me this morning.”

“still missed you.”

your stomach twisted—not from his weight, but from the way he said it. so quietly. like it was a secret he only allowed himself to admit when curled over you like this, when his armor had been wrung out of him by drills and teammates and expectations.

you leaned down just a little, lips brushing his temple. “i missed you too.”

his arms tensed around your waist at that—briefly, like a reflex—and then relaxed, like he’d just let go of some invisible tension. he turned his face to the side, resting it fully against you, ear pressed against your ribs like he wanted to listen to the way your body worked. the way your heart responded to him.

you could feel it thudding harder under his cheek.

“don’t go anywhere,” he mumbled.

“i’m not,” you said softly.

he hummed, satisfied. another deep breath—definitely another sniff, but you let it slide this time.

minutes passed. just the ambient music, the soft sighs, the occasional quiet grumble when he remembered something else irritating from practice.

“you know,” you mused lazily, “if you keep coming home like this, one of these days you’re gonna fall asleep on me and drool on my shirt.”

“i don’t drool.”

“you totally do.”

“i don’t.” his voice was a little sharper now, the embarrassment clear even through the exhaustion. but he didn’t move. just shifted slightly—head lower, face now angled almost against your lower stomach, lips barely grazing the hem of your shirt.

you felt his breath there. warm. too warm.

his fingers flexed slightly around your waist. you stilled.

“…rin?”

his voice dropped, low and sleep-rough and barely above a whisper. “you’re dangerous when you wear this shirt.”

“…what?”

he didn’t answer. instead, he tilted his face just enough to kiss your hipbone through the fabric. just a brush, soft and lazy and slow—but it sent heat creeping up your spine anyway.

you swallowed.

he chuckled—actually chuckled, and you felt the vibration of it against you.

“you think i didn’t notice you wearing my shirt?” he murmured, lifting his head just slightly so he could meet your eyes.

shit. you didn’t think he’d catch that.

“i—it was just comfy—!”

“and it smells like me. you like that, huh?”

he was smirking now. tired, sure—but smug. mischievous. his hand slid just a little up your side, thumb rubbing slow, absent circles against your ribs under the hem.

you cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice even. “you’re the one who just nuzzled me like a cat and sniffed me like a bouquet.”

“because you smell good.”

“because i smell like you.”

“exactly.”

you swatted at him gently, but he just caught your wrist and kissed your palm, dragging it back to his head.

“keep playing with my hair,” he said, voice thick and laced with heat now. “i’ll pass out if you stop.”

“you’re so demanding when you’re exhausted.”

“you like it.”

…yeah. you did.

you didn’t say anything—just let your fingers tangle through his green-tinted strands again, massaging his scalp, and watched as his eyes fluttered half-shut. the quiet stretched on, but not heavy—just warm. tangled limbs and pressed bodies and the shared knowledge that this moment was the safest place either of you had all day.

but then, just as you thought he was drifting—

“…you’re still wearing nothing underneath this shirt, right?”

“rin—”

he smirked again—barely, lazily, with one eye cracked open just enough to see the way your cheeks flushed.

“…told you. dangerous.”

p.s: HSHUSHUS MUHEHEHEHEHE 😉 hehe do u guys like the new pink? i might change my theme to pink idk but pink and red looks so cute as headers of font colors

@twijaxx

@cerb3ruxii since u like fluff ;p

[nope-4]

you ask what the cause of death was

they answer: "you were poisoned, I haven't had the chance to check what the poison was yet"

you smile as your memories flood back

for the first time in years, you have finally managed to bypass the rules of those genie wishes you made all those years ago.

"eternal life"

"to not require sleep"

"to not require food"

At the start the wishes were amazing, you truly thought you had won the game with the wishes that you chose. But all too soon you would come to realize that what you had inflicted upon yourself was not the blessing it tried to appear as, but a horrible curse.

Over time your body forgot how to sleep. The genie didn't do anything to your wish, they'd simply taken away the consequences that not sleeping would bring. But humans are beings of habit, and just like walking, even if sleep is the most natural action of all for the human body to perform... if you stay awake too long eventually your body forgets. After the first week that you stayed awake, you felt that you missed the feeling of dreaming, of letting your guard down enough to lay unconscious for hours on end.

But by then it was already too late. You lay in your bed, tossing and turning, counting sheep, until you finally managed to fall asleep... but you didn't dream. You woke up within an hour, your body already sensing that it was fully rested, not allowing you to sleep for long enough to dream.

"at least I can still enjoy my food" you thought to yourself. Oh, how naive you were back then. Your body not requiring food anymore meant it did not take any time to break the food down. The genie had done something to your very biology, your whole digestive system rendered useless.

Without a working digestive system, any food you ate would quickly go back up. In those first days that you finally decided to eat something you were craving, you found yourself throwing up anything you ate within the hour. You could still drink, and your taste buds were still functioning as normal, but you couldn't swallow any food. If you wanted to eat, you'd either have to throw it up, or spit it out instead of swallowing it. The whole ordeal made eating food quite annoying indeed.

Eternal life was a bit less horrible. By testing the limits of this power, you found that the genie had extended some kindness to you in granting this wish. He hadn't just stopped your aging, he'd added regeneration. You found that smaller injuries regenerated in mere minutes, and you could heal from most deadly injuries within 24 hours.

It was fun at first. It really was. But with an extra 8 hours every day, and very limited ability to eat, you end up getting very bored. you still went to work, of course. But now you had to watch yourself at every work event. Alcohol had no effect on you now, your body treated it as a very weak poison and counteracted it's effects within seconds of you ingesting it. You couldn't actually eat, so you'd order soups and hope no one noticed that you only drank the liquid and never actually ate the other things floating inside the soup.

You found a lot of extra time on your hands. At first you put it towards hobbies that you wanted to try, but eventually the lack of rest made you desperate.

You found yourself searching for a solution, studying chemistry in hopes you'd be able to synthesize a poison strong enough to keep you down for longer than a day. You smile, knowing that you had finally succeeded in creating the perfect sleep potion for yourself. It kept you down for 7 days, just as predicted and enough to cover the time you'd requested for paid leave.

You leave the morgue smiling. After years of restless nights, you finally feel actually well rested. It still did not give you the ability to dream, but that's what books are for :D

You wake up in a morgue freezer. When a frightened employee takes you out, you ask if no one has ever woken up in their morgue before, they reply "No one that had I autopsied the previous day."

[notnowtobey]

Happy Sunday! I’m here with some more “Buck and Tommy are seeing each other again, but Buck thinks they’re just friends and Tommy thinks they’re back together” aka “Buck friend-zoning his boyfriend Tommy” 🤗

—

As he walked back to their cabin, Buck wondered where exactly he had messed it all up. Was it agreeing to go on this trip with Tommy? Was it when he and Tommy started hanging out again? Was it that morning, so many months ago, when he implied he didn’t have feelings for Tommy? Or, Buck thought ruefully, it was probably when he asked Tommy to move in with him. He jumped, thinking Tommy would catch him like he always did. And instead he ruined them.

Buck slowed, coming to a stop by the lake. He wanted to wallow, needed to wallow. At least for a little bit. He found a bench facing the water, took a seat, and tried to think through his feelings.

When Tommy had asked him if he could see him again, Buck was elated. He figured it would be his chance to salvage what he could, to keep Tommy in his life somehow. He wanted Tommy in his life forever, even if they would only ever be friends. Even if he had to watch Tommy grow old and gray with someone else, he would keep him in his life. That’s all he really wanted.

But what he didn’t want, what he couldn’t handle, was blurring the lines any more than that. To something between friends and what they used to be. Maybe he sent the wrong signal. Maybe Tommy heard enough stories about Buck’s 1.0 days that he thought that’s what Buck wanted. Or, worse yet, he realized that’s all Buck would ever be good for. Hooking up every now and then. Friends with benefits. The thought made Buck feel sick, to have Tommy like that, but not really have him at all.

Buck realized—maybe a little too late, but hopefully not too late—he really needed to talk to Tommy.

—

Tommy was already waiting for him when he got back to their cabin.

“Look, I’m sorry, Tommy. Really, I am. I shouldn’t have come. I just. I have a really hard time saying no to you. I, uh—“ Buck dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Evan, please, it’s okay—“ Tommy started, but Buck wasn’t done.

“I don’t want to lose you. Not again. I — I can’t. I can’t let that happen again,” Buck felt traitorous tears welling at his eyes, and he hastened to swipe them away.

Tommy sighed, “I’m sorry I pushed this on you. I just, I thought things were going well. And I know a weekend away is a big commitment, especially so early in a relationship—“

“Re—relationship?” Buck stuttered out. His brain was not making sense of this.

Tommy continued, as if Buck didn’t say a thing, “—And maybe I should have asked before I kissed you, but—“

“You kissed me,” Buck murmured. He felt like his brain rebooted. The pieces suddenly clicked together.

“—you just, you looked so beautiful. You always do. And I couldn’t help myself. I’m so, so sorry, Evan. I wanted to follow your lead, to go at your pace. You wanted to take things slow, clearly, and I, I,” Tommy tapered off. He ran his hands through his hair. “I thought you were doing that for me, so I could—so I—I wanted to—I want—“

Buck reached out and caught Tommy’s wrist, curling his fingers around his pulse point. He could feel it thundering away.

“Tommy,” Buck dipped his head until Tommy looked at him, and they locked eyes. “Are we—have we—you want to be in a relationship? With me?”

“God, Evan. Of course I do,” Tommy said. “And I’m sorry if you feel like I pushed too hard. If you want to go slow, I want to go slow. I just, I don’t want to lose you, either. I’ll do anything to keep you. To have you in my life.”

“So you don’t want to be just friends?” Buck couldn’t help but ask.

“Ju—just friends? Is that what you want?” Tommy looked…disappointed. Devastated even.

“No!” He near shouted. “I don’t want to be friends with you.” Tommy took a step back. “I mean, I—we need to talk abou—“

“Okay. Okay, that’s. We don’t have to be friends. Of course we don’t. I understand. Can I—why don’t you pack your stuff and I’ll drive you back?”

“No. No, we’re not leaving. Listen—“

“Evan, I can’t—I’m going to need some time,” Tommy looked away, but not before Buck noticed the tears threatening to fall. “If you want to stay, I can find somewhere else to sleep. And if you want, you can take my truck, I’ll find another way home. Whatever you want—“

Buck took a step closer, grabbing Tommy’s other hand and intwining their fingers. Tommy grasped his hands, and he looked completely bewildered. But Buck saw hope, and that was enough.

“I don’t want to be your friend, Tommy. Well, I do. But more in the, ‘I married my best friend,’ kind of way, y’know?”

“You’d want—you want to marry me?” Tommy murmured.

“Someday. Absolutely. But, first. I just—we need to talk, okay? Tell me what you want. Not just what you think I want.”

“I want you. Only you. For as long as you’ll have me. I was scared before, but I’m not anymore. Or—I’m trying not to be anymore. I want to be brave, for you. For us. I want it all, with you. Matching rings, a couple kids. A big house with a bigger yard. A dog, maybe a cat. Or two. Does that—do you—what do you want?”

“I want that. I see it. Can we have it?”

“Yeah, baby.”

—

I wasn’t planning to write any of this out, and I really really appreciate all the kind words! This might be it for now. I just really wanted them to have a happy ending ❤️ I hope you enjoy!!

Tagging some lovelies:

@politenotice @andrew-dwyer @comfortingevanbuckley @aringofsalt @here-there-be-fics @derangedsynthpop @obitez @kinardnatural @beckym2001 @dornigetulpe @fierybuck @hcrm @partofthelouniverse @buckitweride @louhearted @bidisasterevankinard @peppermintquartz @harmonic-intervention @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @loudlyenthused @kinardstits @pollywog-frog @911-is-my-emergency @thecarrott @eosfog-btsideblog @big-urchin-energy @theotherbuckley @hyperfocusthusly @beeksbear @bottomtommykinard @monstream @likeapaperplane @joyousmistake @all-the-feelss @moonydanny @mubsterstuff @justahumblecabbagemerchant @ananxiouschickennuggetapparently @onceuponatmi

[eclipse-msoul]

𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

(I own the writing, picture from google)

Yandere! Esper Bat-family X Reader

Tags : Esper-guide world, possessive bat family, cruel characters, yandere, dark bat family, child reader etc

Synopsis : Sometimes the older siblings can't help but discipline their youngest. It's fine, it's your a little lesson.

" Where are you going?”

Your steps froze on sight, your hand trembled and your lips twitched as you turned back and leaped over him, “Brother!”

You were equal to two and half heads so you barely reached him just below his waist. Jason easily caught and raised you high. "You are a little gremlin alright.” he sighed, but the smile over his face betrayed his words.

You grinned back. “ He he~ I'm your sister Jay!”

“ Of course you are.” He put you over his shoulder, and patted your head. “ But what were you doing here Y/n?” As soon as those words came out of his mouth, your heart chilled.

Every bit of joy wiped up from your face.

Your tiny first clenched his uniform, you tried your best not to lose your cool. Taking a deep breath, you looked him in the eye. “ I was bored!”

He raised his brow, examining you from top to bottom.

You hoped he would believe that.

“ Let's get you back to bed.” This time you didn't pretend to be okay, you punched him in the face, which couldn't do much since you were nine and a half but it served as a distraction.

He let out a groan, holding his eye that you hit. “ Y/n wait!” You felt guilt pouring in but you didn't stop. This was your only chance.

Today was one day in ten years where all the Espers had to gather in the Royal ball under his majesty’s order - which meant all your siblings should be gone.

Why the hell was Jason home?

You had no time to think so you kept on moving.

You hid behind one of the furniture when you heard the sounds of guards making a rotation. Their steps made the floor stir and you had to inwardly bite yourself to not make noise.

When they finally left, you got out and ran towards the other Hall. You were about to reach the gate, if you could just cross it. Just a little more-

“ Little wing~”

Winds blew and whisked you up.

Your body was raised in the air and you were left struggling mid-air without any way to get out. The man made way to you , you could feel his voice crawling under your skin.

Tears tripled down as you tried to keep a brave front.

Dick was here.

Your mind kept on repeating - there's no way you could escape now.

Not against one of the kingdom's strongest Espers.

You were a guide and he was an S-class esper - so every point for fighting was gone. But you didn't stop.

You closed your eyes only for them to open forcefully. You made eye contact with your eldest brother. His bright blue eyes shined more menacingly than normal as he took your cheek in his hold and wiped a tear.

He licked it away and grinned. “ I got her!” He shouted using his wind powers to send the message across the palace to all your siblings.

“ Le-Let me go-” You hissed. He looked over at you and put his finger over your lips. “Shu-Shush- ” He whispered, slowly trying to comfort you. “ Calm, little wing.”

His powers had a way to make you calm. Maybe it was an Esper’s gift by nature so that their guide couldn't leave. You almost believed his words for an instant.

“ I need you to keep your voice for the punishment.”

Nature had a way of being cruel.

“N-” your face morphed into one of pain, you let out another yelp completely forgetting your brother's order.

“You should listen to what your big brother says.” he remarked, before letting his power lose and holding you tight in his chest. “Sleep.” He said casting a spell to make you sleepy.

Yet you still struggled and kept on trying to get out.

“ Dick-”

“ -please! I'm sorr-”

“ Big brother-”

“- Espers…You-” you cried.

“- You can't do this to me! I didn't want to be a guide!”

He walked with you - trembling and begging to let you go - until he was standing in front of your room.

That cursed room.

" She wouldn't have tried to escape if you'd listened to me and cut off the tendon in her leg. " You heard Damian mutter.

Tim sighed, " I know Damian, we'll do that this time. "

" Tch-" Damian glared, " Idiot."

Tim grumped before turning to Jason and Barbara. Barbara sat on her wheelchair humming, she already knew you were standing outside.

Her red hair glowed under the moon light, she looked like a goddess under the light. Her blue eyes turned to the door.

Peeking out with her x-ray she couldn't help but be joyful. Her little baby guide looked adorable. Even if she was crying. No worries after all was done, she herself would lull you to sleep.

" She looks so cute.."

Jason placed a hand on her shoulder before looking at the direction where her eyes had been for the past few seconds. " She's here." He announced.

You wished you could cry.

Opening the door, you were greeted by all your siblings grinning and eyeing you like a piece of meat. That's all you were - you thought - a guide - a little lamb.

Your trembling lips laughed -your siblings were going to ruin you.

Comment and send kudos!!!! Love you all and byeee (≡^∇^≡)🩷🪿

Taglist : @animegoddess15

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hi babes, dunno if you’ve done something like this before but I thought I’d throw it out there anyways. You think you can do a Tangerine x reader smut where they do it raw/rough for the first time and him going absolutely INSANE over how she sounds when he has her like that?

love the idea very very much. thanks for requesting💌

RAW. 18+

tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT. 819 WARNINGS. 18+ only! raw pinv sex, general filth. mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Tonight you were feeling slightly audacious, maybe a little bold and daring. Perhaps it was something in the wine at dinner, or the sight of Tangerine rocking above you. Maybe it was the latter. Yeah, it was probably the latter. 

You lie on the bed beneath your lover, the backs of your knees hooked around his forearms, your hands clasped tight to the back of his neck. The drive of his cock into you is slow and calculated, each wind of his hips coming from a place of purpose. You can feel him reach deep inside you, dick practically nudging into your stomach from the position he has you in. 

Though, you wanted more. You weren’t quite sure how you would even achieve that, there wasn’t much that could be done to top this. But you did have one idea — an idea curated from your tipsy, lustful mind.

You move a hand from its placement on the back of his neck and push away a curl that’s fallen from its usual framing placement. You hold the strand between your palm and his cheek as you cup his face, bringing him in for a kiss. And another one, and another one. 

“Stop a second,” you whisper between the close distance, meeting his worried eyes with assuring ones of your own. “Just one second.”

“You alright?” he pulls back to look at you fully and immediately ceases movement. He peels himself from you and disconnects your limbs around him, keeping the head of his cock wedged inside as he now sits on his heels between your thighs.

“Yeah,” you nod, the motion honest.

You reach between yourselves. You guide a slow creeping hand down your stomach and between your thighs. Upon understanding your ask for a break didn’t stem from discomfort or anything of the sort, he observes you keenly, eager eyes watching your travelling fingers hover and linger above your cunt. 

Your hand lowers and you wrap yourself around the base of his dick, movement slow as you slide him out from you. His confused eyes narrow as he watches it all play out from his slight height advantage, and his brows furrow questioningly.

“What are—”

You shush him before he even has a chance to finish his question. 

Keeping your eyes fixed on Tangerine above, you clumsily toy with his cock as you blindly locate the nib of rubber at his tip. You tug on the condom slowly and drag it down the length of his dick, removing the slimy protective layer. Despite his flickering gaze between your cunt and your face, you keep your eyes on him, watching his mind practically blow in real time. You give him a soft nod when he silently questions you — a wordless glance doing the speaking for him. Quite like he was asking if you were sure, or if this was a smart idea. 

Yes you were sure, and no this perhaps wasn’t a smart idea. Probably not a good one at all. 

Once the condom was discarded, you wrap your hand back around his cock and ease him in closer, bumping his head against your pussy as you line him up with you. He can’t seem to pull his eyes away from the sight, from the way you handle him with so much certainty — how you are literally taking what you want, and he’s just so happily letting you. 

When he feels his head slot into that little dip, he fucks himself through your hand to get back into the snug embrace of your cunt. He probably should've savoured it, maybe even make the moment last longer. But between the lewd display you just teased him with, and the newfound feeling of you, he wasn’t sure he would last long.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, features scrunching from the foreign feeling of his unprotected cock. “Oh my god,” you whine, needy grabby hands reaching for him, eager to get him back on top of you.

Tangerine lowers and rests on his forearms either side of you, hovering atop. “You, my love,” he presses a kiss just under your jaw, the action making your head tilt back further into the pillow “Feel fucking divine.”

It was the first time going raw with him, and now you’ve had a taste for the real feel of him, you weren’t sure if there was any going back. The rhythm of his hips gradually increases, leisure systematic movement returning to what it was just before. But this time is a whole load different, he can feel all of you, while you can feel all of him. Every vein grazing along every ridge. 

You sound different too. It was bordering on pornographic, and he couldn’t figure out whether it sounded fake now, or before. Though obviously it was neither. It was all real, every blubbering, airy, strained sound was just as authentic then as it is now. 

⎯ ☆ ⎯

gave up editing. my brother was screaming and shouting playing computer games and I ended up throwing in the towel, oops

[moonixen]

thanos with big tits reader..?👅

OOOOOOOOOOOO see as a big titty girl myself i live for this.ᐟ thank you anon ♡︎

| cw: sexual content, big boobs!reader, fem/afab!reader, explicit, titjobs, mentions of cumming on the face, thanos is clingy, mentions of sensitive boobs, thanos literally can't keep his hands to himself, maybe more i'm not sure </3

¬ mdni

└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

pre-relationship.ᐟ

thanos loves your boobs. to him, they're to die for. he's always been more of an everything kind of guy but when it comes to tits- small, medium, large? he doesn't care, he just loves the feeling of them in his hands.

so imagine when you first came along, he was in the Pentagon, surrounded by his crowd of people. his friends all either drunk or high (or both) and then in you come in this pretty little low cut dress. the clubs nasty flashing lights casting such a pretty shadow on the curves of your body, specifically your chest. that dress was working wonders.

the poor guy nearly did a spit take when he saw you, his eyes tracing over each edge of your body like a man seeing water for the first time in years while being stranded out in the desert.

so of course he had to try and pull a move on you.

with how charismatic he was, the conversation flowed with ease. it was when you started dancing together on the club's dance floor that his infatuation grew to an all time high. and his hard on.

your boobs were pressed tight up against his chest, squishing together and making the line of your cleavage appear never ending. yeah he was a goner. his hands couldn't stop wandering, specifically to your tits with every pull of your hips. and god forbid you press your back to his chest, allowing his hands to freely wander up to yours.

he's groping and squeezing and pawing whenever he gets the chance.

post-relationship.ᐟ

you could be doing the most mundane, domestic thing possible, and this man would still have his hand down the front of your shirt. oh, you're wearing a tank top because it's hot during summer? yeah his hands are grasping.

"baby stop- it's too hot for all that business-" you'd whine at him with a sigh, trying to pry his hand away from your right boob. his arm was slung around your shoulders while you were both lounging on the couch, a standing fan close by to blow cool air at you.

he kisses his teeth, keeping his grip on your boob, "m'not even doing anything! just resting my hand here." he complains, refusing to move. you give in, too hot to bother with his antics. and it's a win for him.

it doesn't even need to be sexual, he just loves the weight of them so much in his palms.

and if he's had a rough day- say, some rap lyrics aren't clicking like they should or he's just incredibly burnt out, he's immediately pulling you by your waist to the bedroom, your previous task be damned, just so he can rest his pretty head on your plush cushions, your fingers in his hair.

sometimes, and he won't even realise he's doing it, while he's again got his hand down your shirt while you're both relaxing, his fingers are toying with and pulling at your nipples, forcibly hardening them.

you'll gasp and he'll glance down in confusion, "wassup?" he asks, eyes tracing over your features, but his fingers are still going.

you frequently have to remind him to be careful because some days you can be more sensitive than others, and he barely even bats and eye.

in the bedroom however, his hands are still all over your chest- but so much more aggressively.

he's tugging, pulling and pinching at the skin whenever he can. thanos often has his mouth locked around a nipple while he's already deep in your guts, sometimes even pressing your breasts together just for the chance to possibly catch both nipples at the same time.

your boobs are always covered in excessive spit, marks and bites after merely one round with him, he can't help it! they're just right there!

missionary style has you with your thighs tucked up, his hands underneath your knees to keep him up while his face is buried in your cleavage. he can't get enough honestly. if he could suffocate and die in there, he would so happily.

it can be that sometimes he might go a little overboard and end up making you overly sensitive the next day. it might even be on purpose because he knows that he's the reason your nipples are so sore. which also means your shirt and bra keep chafing against them, which means he gets to see you walk around without them at home if it's really too bad.

titjobs with him are insane.

"yeah- yeah fuck! hold 'em just like that pretty-!" he's panting above you, his usually spiky purple hair down and sticking to the sweat on his forehead as his tongue darts out to lick his drying lips from having his mouth open to let his sounds out for so long.

thanos' eyes are intense and staring with a purpose, he would kill for the image he gets to see whenever you allow him to fuck your tits.

they're bouncing and rippling with each of his rushed and uncoordinated thrusts. he really doesn't last too long in this position.

watching his pink- damn near red and leaking tip continuously peak out from between your tits has his abdomen tightening with effort as he tries his hardest to make it last.

but when you lean your head down just ever so slightly and stick your pink tongue out to catch his tip as it pushes up, it has him spilling all over your face and those tits he loves so much.

you've taken to only ever giving him titjobs on special occasions or as a treat or else this man will literally ask for it all day everyday.

thanos isn't ashamed about making his love known publicly either- to an extent. maybe you're clothes shopping and dragged him along with you. if you're standing still in an isle for longer than he deems necessary, he's coming up behind you seemingly innocent at first, only to creep his hands up your waist to grope at the underside of your boobs and squeezing.

"ah! baby careful! we're in public..." you threaten lowly with your hands on his wrists, not really pulling him away.

he's staring down at you with lidded eyes, languidly blinking, "takin' too fucking long."

he will go out of his way to use his paycheck to buy you a cute little lingerie piece he knows you'll love, or some nice low-cut dresses and tops he knows he'll love.

it doesn't matter if it's on the expensive side, if it fits his vision, he's getting it. it's his money damn it. he is considerate enough to check if it'll be comfortable though.

he's witnessed first hand when a piece of clothing ends up restricting you despite how good it looks on you, your comfort is one of his top priorities.

all in all thanos adores his girlfriend, and her big boobs .ᐟ

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

sorry for any mistakes </3

[ghuleh-yep]

Chance sfw and nsfw headcanons!

Hii im so glad that a lot of you enjoyed the last thing i wrote! I know i posted a smut fic concept but to be so real i haven’t started to work on that (i got distracted making these headcanons) anyways i hope you guys enjoy this and i hope its not tooo cringe😓

Also my requests are open if anyone wishes to request something!!

Wc: 1,937

Sfw:

When spending time with Chance there’s almost no way to avoid him going on some nerdy tangent. He loves to talk about things he loves, whether it be about the most recent G&G campaign he had been working on or about you, he never seems to keep his mouth shut and that's just how you like it.

When playing G&G he gets so into roleplaying he sometimes forgets that there are other party members and not just the two of you, the other members of the party get annoyed by this habit of his but you find it so endearing.

When playing a session with Lux, Chance's patience wears thin, but with you there he tries his best to keep his composure and not lose his cool on Lux. Whenever Chance can sense he might blow up he gently grabs your hand from around his GM screen, rubbing soothing patterns into your palms, playing around with your fingers, anything to get his mind off of his not so favorite player.

When creating a new one shot or full fleshed out campaign Chance can barely hold himself back from sharing every little detail with you, whether you’re going to be playing the new one shot or not Chance wants it to be a surprise but with all of his excitement and creativity flowing through him he can’t wait to tell you about his new ideas and dialogue he has come up with.

Chance’s love languages would most likely be quality time and words of affirmations, the two of you could be in the same room doing absolutely nothing and Chance is over the moon. He loves to profess his love for you by doing long monologues about how you make his heart jump by just being there and taking interest in the things he loves.

I think he’d enjoy physical touch as well but not as much as the other two, this was already mentioned before but he likes to fidget with your hands while playing a long G&G session. When brainstorming and writing down his ideas he likes to lay down with his head on your lap or vice versa, the feeling of your soft/rough fingertips and nails scratching his scalp and twirling his short hair really does something to him.

Chance’s hugs are the best, his hold is never to lose and never too tight he knows his strength and he knows if he squeezed you a bit too hard your eyes might pop out of your skull, not like you'd mind though. The last thing you'd see and feel would be his handsome face and chest all up in your face.

He also enjoys acts of service, he takes pride in doing stuff for you. If you want something no need to even ask of him, he is already moving before you can get two words out of your mouth. Whether you ask him to create a new character sheet for you (he already has ten new ones just for you) or ask him for a shoulder massage he is at your service. Chance knows how to use his hands for your own pleasure (wink wink) he knows just the right amount of pressure to use, his hands are like a weighted blanket, soft yet so strong he always knows how to make you feel amazing after a stressful day of job hunting.

He loves to roleplay with you, it's one of his favorite pastimes (besides playing and coming up with new G&G one shots)

Chance loves to watch you do simple tasks around the house, you could be doing anything from cooking a meal or mopping the floor Chance is enamored by your beauty/handsomeness, of course he’d get a but jealous when you get distracted by a different object but who wouldn’t he has such an attractive and amazing partner, he knows that your his but that doesn’t stop him from getting that way every once in a while.

He loves to play G&G with the other objects around the house but nothing could ever beat a one on one session between the two of you, he craves your attention just knowing that you're watching his every move and listening to him intently. Knowing that all of your attention is on him he feels a sense of pride bubbling within him.

Late at night when the two of you are cuddled up on the bed, couch, or even a pillow fort Chance without fail is always telling you some sort of tale. Of course he asks if you wish to hear it, not wanting to subject you to hearing something you won’t pay attention to. If you accept his offer he’ll ask what type of tale you’d like to hear and he can come up with anything! You wish to hear something spooky and scary? Chance is cooking up the scariest storyline just for you. Something sweet and romantic? No problem! Hopefully you don’t mind if the main characters are you and himself. Whatever the tale is, Chance gets super into it, just as much as a game of G&G, he’ll use silly voices making sure you’re getting the full experience.

In almost every conversation you have with Chance he’ll almost always without a doubt slip in a pet name or two. His favorites for you are princess/prince, my king/queen, dear/dearest, honey, and if yall are feeling freaky he wouldn’t mind throwing a mistress/mister around every once in a while.

Nsfw:

We already know Chance is a freak in the sheets, that's a fact. He's into basically anything that you’re into, unless it's some crazy ass stuff like watersports he can acknowledge that others may be into it but it's just not for him. Just to give an idea of what Chance is into, here's a few of his kinks– he loves hair pulling, preferably his hair but he doesn’t mind giving your hair a tug or two if you so wish. Roleplay is a big thing for him. I think we all know that, you two could simply be roleplaying a G&G scenario and he has a hard on in his pants the whole time. He loves it when you mark him up– whether it be hickeys, biting, or scratching the hell out of his toned back his eyes are rolling to the back of his head.

Of course for your first time together it’d be pretty vanilla, he doesn’t wanna spook you with anything too crazy just yet.

Let's get it outta the way Chance is BIIIIG like lets be so honest right now he gives big dick energy and he owns it. He’s about 7.5 inches and has a good amount of girth, his tip is a pretty pink/red, his member leans a bit to the right with a slight upward curve. I genuinely don’t know if he’d be circumcised or not so that's all up to your imagination my dearest readers!

Chance likes to keep it trimmed and maintained down there with a sexy happy trail, but if you ever asked him to shave it or grow out his bush, your wish is his command. I feel like he's the typa guy to shave some designs for you down there. If you really wanted it, he’d go in with a facial razor to really make it look pretty just for you. He’d gladly do a heart, a D20, a star, a heart with the first initial of your name, truly anything the world is your oyster! He might even let you do it for him just please let him reciprocate the gesture once you’ve finished your work.

Chance is a service top, your pleasure is the reason he wakes up everyday. Whatever you could possibly want he will do just for you, want him to eat you out/ suck you off all night long? He's in between your thighs until you’re overstimulated or until you’re telling him to stop. You wish to ride him? As soon as you feel the slightest bit of exhaustion, he's using all of his energy to thrust up into you just so you can finish.

Speaking of eating you out/ sucking you off, Chance is a GOD with his mouth, this nerd knows how to use it real good. Even just offhandedly mentioning the idea of him giving you head in a random conversation or G&G session he is stopping whatever yall are doing and getting on his knees right then and there. He’d definitely be the one to suggest you sit on his face, he doesn’t care what you weigh, he is making you sit down with all of your weight. Chance could die down there and he wouldn’t have any qualms about it, if anything it’d be his dream to pass away giving you pleasure. If you tug his hair while he’s giving head or just in general he will be coming in his pants immediately, the feeling of your hands scratching his scalp and messing up his neat hair really does something to him, it makes him all jittery and excited.

He doesn’t mind if you wish to go down on him, he just rather put his mouth to use and pleasure you. But who is he to deny such an offer, he is like a whiny bitch as soon as your lips are on his sensitive tip. If you nip at his thighs while giving him a handjob he is like putty in your hands. It doesn’t take much to turn Chance into a subby whining mess, especially when you reach up to play with his chest he is a wreck.

Chance is big on foreplay, it's one of his favorite pastimes besides playing G&G and writing lore for his future campaigns. He loves how his fingers feel in you while stretching you out just so you can fit him, knowing that he’s so big he needs to prep you each time makes all the cogs turn in his head. He loves watching your face contort in pleasure when he curls his thick fingers in you, watching the way tears form in your eyes or the way your face is all flushed by the things he whispers into your ears.

Chance’s usual pace is slow and deep but if you wish for him to speed up his pace he gladly will. His pace usually depends on the position and or mood of the night/day. I feel like Chance’s favorite position would be any one where he can see your beautiful/handsome face, being able to see you fall apart because of him gets him so hard he’s twitching inside of you. I don’t think he really has a favorite body part on you, he loves all of you– all of your imperfections, everything and anything about you is his favorite.

His favorite spot to cum has to be inside of you especially when you cum with him, the feeling of you squeezing him, sucking him deeper just drives him over the edge each time.

Speaking of edge.. Edge him edge him edge him!! Taunt him when he’s getting close, use him for your own pleasure and when you can sense he's getting anywhere close to his release, by the time you're all spent he still hasn’t came once. If anything, tie him down and leave him there to suffer while you clean yourself up, once you think he's suffered enough you finally give him that sweet release.

[iheartsophie]

THE ROYAL FAMILY OF F1 #2 | lewis hamilton

previous part!

^ྀི pairing: lewis hamilton x reader, dad!lewis x mum! reader

^ྀི genre: fluff, family, established!relationship

^ྀི context: Lewis and y/n decide they should get Luca his first kart after watching his speed around the living room pretending to race Lewis and Roscoe

^ྀི warnings: none!

^ྀི sophie speaks!: i have planned this series out, it’s quite short but i love the cuteness of it! 💋 @omgsuperstarg wanted a part 2 i wanted a part 2 i worked all night in this. my fics i wrote a few months ago are all scheduled to be posted and now i can work on this mini series 🥰

It had been a week since Silverstone, and Luca Hamilton was still riding the high.

He had become an overnight sensation—unintentionally, of course. Fans had dubbed him the “Prince of the Paddock,” and while he had no clue what any of that meant, he did know one thing:

He wanted to go to the next race.

Right. Now.

“Is it race day yet?” he asked for the third time that morning, standing in the kitchen in his mismatched pajamas and waving a spoon like it was a checkered flag.

“No, baby,” Y/N answered patiently from the counter, stirring oatmeal. “There’s a little break before the next race.”

Luca frowned. “But I saw the map. The one with all the flags. Belgium is next.”

“Yes, but not for a couple of weeks.”

He blinked. “That’s too long.”

From the other side of the room, Lewis tried not to laugh as he crouched beside Roscoe, tying his sneakers. “Tell me about it.”

Luca padded over and climbed into Lewis’ lap like it was the most obvious solution. “Can we go early and help them set up?”

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “You want to help Riccardo and the engineers?”

“I can hand them screwdrivers,” Luca said proudly. “I know which one is which.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. The one that’s crossy on the top is the plus driver.”

Y/N turned from the stove, grinning. “You mean Phillips head?”

“That’s what I said.”

⸻

Over the next few days, Luca kept the pressure on.

He zoomed his toy cars across the living room floor narrating every move. Roscoe was an unwilling competitor, often stuck with a race number on his collar and a soft “Vroom!” noise shouted behind him as he walked.

Lewis joined in more often than not—sliding across the hardwood on his socks, challenging Luca to races through the hallway, and even letting him stand on a dining chair while they played “podium ceremony” after lunch.

Luca declared himself world champion of the living room every day.

Y/N watched them from the couch, heart full, occasionally filming snippets—though none would ever see the light of social media. These were their moments. Soft. Chaotic. Untouched by the world.

⸻

One evening, after dinner and after Luca had finally worn himself out pretending to beat Max Verstappen around their kitchen island, Y/N retreated to the bathroom for her nightly skincare routine.

The door creaked open behind her.

“Do you ever knock?” she teased without looking up.

Lewis strolled in, towel around his neck, shirt half-buttoned from bedtime chaos. “You’ve seen every inch of me, love. What’s left to knock for?”

He sat down on the closed toilet lid, elbows resting on his knees as he watched her press serum into her cheeks. The warm light above the mirror made her look soft and sleepy, and for a moment, he just looked—taking in the quiet luxury of this version of her.

“Y’know,” he started slowly, “Luca’s been talking non-stop about racing.”

Y/N smirked, eyes still on the mirror. “You mean sprinting around the house barefoot yelling ‘DRS OPEN!’ like a maniac?”

Lewis chuckled. “Exactly that.”

She hummed, tapping eye cream under her eyes. “He’s obsessed.”

“I was thinking…” he hesitated, leaning back slightly. “What if we got him a kart?”

Y/N paused mid-swipe. “A kart? Like… real karting?”

“Yeah. Not to pressure him or anything,” Lewis said quickly. “Just… give him the chance to try it. See how he feels.”

Y/N turned to face him, leaning on the sink with her arms crossed. “You sure it wouldn’t turn into ‘Hamilton Legacy: Part II?’ He’s three, babe.”

“I know,” Lewis nodded. “But I just see the way he lights up when he talks about racing. The way he watches the onboards with me. And he’s got balance, focus… and honestly? He’s got the bug.”

Y/N looked at him thoughtfully, the love in her gaze steady and deep. “You’re already imagining him in a helmet, aren’t you?”

“Maybe just a little helmet,” Lewis grinned. “Tiny one. With his name on the back.”

She laughed. “I swear, you’re worse than him.”

He reached out and gently took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “We don’t have to rush it. But maybe just… take him to a track one weekend. Let him sit in a kid kart. No pressure.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at her lips. “If we do this, we do it our way. No spotlight. No hype. Just Luca.”

“Always,” Lewis said firmly. “Just Luca.”

A silence settled between them, warm and full of unspoken dreams. In the distance, they heard the pitter-patter of little feet heading toward their room again, likely looking for another bedtime story or to sneak into their bed.

Y/N sighed with a smile. “Well, the world champion of the living room has arrived .”

Lewis stood, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Guess we better start training for Belgium. Race day is every day in this house.”