#I'm taking a break from writing my long fic for a while because I'm burned out of it

[meownotgood]

today. I will write. about gun fiend aki sex

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[hannamoon143]

You drew stars around my scars ✮⋆˙

Life is hard. Some people don't know how to cope with that. Some people just try to feel mentally better by causing physical pain instead. How ironical, isn't it? Oh but bless you, that lee felix is in your life. Because this man never misses a thing.⋆｡°✩

Genre:Angst,Hurt/comfort

Warnings:Sh,a bit childhood trauma, Depression, Crying, mentions of food,mentions of bad eating habits

Lee felix x fem.Reader

Words: 3,9k

a/n: hey everyone<33 To write this fic brought me some comfort too, and it's healing me a bit more everytime i can use my own experiences,emotions and thoughts to write something that comforts others too, and relate to y/n a lot. And i know i'm not the only one, so i hope this can bring everyone that reads it a bit comfort. And pls always remember what of a beautiful person you are. Hurting yourself is never ever the only solution. If you need someone to talk, reach out to someone, anyone, also me if you don't have anyone. I'd rather have literally any person cry for hours in my arms, or vent to me in my dm's than have them hurt their own bodies, that always supports them. Everything felix says in that fic is true, and they r my own thoughts about this. I love you all, take care of yourselves.<3

Depression takes a lot from you. It takes your motivation, productivity, the will to socialize, and your happiness. It’s unfair isn’t it? Little, happy children become tired, broken adults.

People always think depression is something where you sit in your bed the whole day and cry. Well that is half true. Yes, there are days like that, but that’s far not everything. The worst are those dull days, when you feel entirely numb, but your life has to go on anyways. No joy in your heart, and no tears in your eyes. Just a big nothing in your mind.

After a while you figure it out though. It’s always those numb episodes, until every emotion you thought didn’t exist the days before, crashes down on you. And it’s overwhelming. Every.single.time.

But what if you’d find something that could ‚help‘ you? Something that brought you pain and relief at the same time? That made you feel alive, in the numb episodes and distracted you from the pain in the days where you broke down? The price was just your beautiful skin, and blood...

A problem was though, once you’d start, it would be very hard to stop again. But why should you anyways? Why should you stop when it was the only thing seemingly bringing you comfort for some short time?

It started off by you, picking at your skin absimendtly whenever you felt anxious, or when you just didn’t pay attention. It felt relieving. It was the burning pain when you scatched on your skin so hard it was slightly bloody, making you feel like your feelings actually mattered. And then that one night. That night everything crashed down on you. Your friends wanted nothing to do with you anymore, the few you had before, cut contact. You couldn’t even be mad at them. Who wouldn’t be annoyed by someone who constantly cancelled plans, and gave off a „depressing, annoying attitude“? Well these were their words. Oh but you saw it coming. All the overthinking in the middle of the night, those worst case scenarios, they had come true.

And your family? You never had a healthy relationship with them. So now, that you were grown up, the contact was almost entirely dead. And yeah, there was your boyfriend felix, but you’d never burden him with your problems. He already had enough on his mind with the world tour and all the new released albums, of the band he was in.

And that was it. No one there that you could reach out to, no one to comfort you, when your heart and mind were breaking into millions of glass splitters. Every person reaches their breaking point someday. And that day was yours. You remembered the night clearly. You were sitting on the bathroom floor, crying out all the emotion you had been holding in for too long. You had no friends anymore. No family. And pretty sure soon no boyfriend too. Nothing to hold onto.

Then you reached out to a drawer. You didn’t really register what you were doing as you took it out. A simple, silver blade. A little cut on your wrist. A line of crimson red blood on your skin.

At first you were terrified. What had you done? Why weren’t you affected by the stinging pain on your wrist, and the blood building in the small cut? Why did it in fact feel good? And then you decided to try it again, just to answer those questions right?

That’s where it started.

You knew you had depression. But going to a therapist? You were scared, probably too lazy, and you could never tell all your problems to a complete stranger. And most of all you didn’t want felix to worry either. He was the only one left, and soon he would surely leave too. He was the sweetest, sunny person on this earth, he deserved someone that matched his energy, and wasn’t so… hard to love.

Every single task felt like a hard, impossible chore. Getting out of your bed felt like doing the unbelievable. Doing the most simple things like showering, or brushing your teeth seemed so far away, that you could only master them on your best days. Some days, you went to work, did everything you had to, with a straight, stoic face. That was until you came home, laid into your bed, and silent tears would build wet spots on your pillow.

But somedays, even crying seemed too overwhelming. All you could do was lay in your dark room, staring at the wall. It was just the darkness and you, and somewhere in your mind, a voice whispering that it would help to cut...

And then there were these rare days, on which you felt almost too overwhelmed. It were those days you came home, and added another scar to the gallery of them on your arms. You questioned your life on these days. Because truly, you didn’t see a reason why you should be here right now. No, you weren’t proud of it. But who was there to stop you? Why should you quit if it was the only thing keeping you sane right now? When it was only the stinging pain who could make you slip out of the monotone haze in your mind, for at least a little bit time.

But it would be stupid to assume felix didn’t notice something was off. Lee felix was a pure person. Someone who could make even the rainiest days shine bright. And he cared about the people he loved more than anything else.

When you started cancelling plans it was already alarming for him. You were someone who never cancelled plans with him. You were usually a happy person, someone who made jokes that were actually funny. Someone who made him laugh with your little quirks, that he noticed over time. Someone who comforted him when he felt bad. And most of all you were the most excited person when you two would meet up. You never missed to tell him how much you loved him, that he was your happy person, and your comfort person.

That was before

Before suddenly everything stopped. He rarely got to see your beautiful face now anymore. You took a long time to respond to his texts, and when you did, they were short, and dry. This didn’t feel like you. Felix knew you. And that wasn’t you. This wasn’t the happy girl he met. And he surely wasn’t planning on letting things go like this forever. Something wasn’t right. And no matter what you said or did, to try and get away from him, and shut everything out, he would stay by your side. He would find out what was wrong and do everything possible in this world to make you feel like yourself again.

It was another day today. Another number on the calendar. You stopped looking at it. It didn’t matter anyways. Those were just numbers on paper, and they would never change anything. So you dragged yourself out of bed, feeling even heavier than usual. Like a zombie you just quickly got dressed, not even registering what you were wearing, and drank a mug of coffee. It would make you feel a bit more awake for at least a few hours. Eating breakfast had become impossible in the last few weeks. You were barely eating anything the whole day, to be honest. Sometimes, you just couldn’t stand up and make yourself something. But most times, you just didn’t feel hungry.

You went your usual way to work. At the bus, you took a short glance at your phone. You used to be on your phone a lot for the silliest things, but now you hated it. You hated the brightness, and that everytime you looked at it you had to interact with others. And the worst was, it remdinded you of what you had lost. The spark you had in your eyes on photos from a long time ago.

Something popped up on the screen

A message from felix. Of course. He messaged you every single day. You couldn’t ignore him, no matter how shitty felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore him. So you opened it.

Hey sunshine<3How are you today? I thought of maybe grabbing some takeout and watching a movie together tonight, since i have off early! I’ll even let you pick one of those cheesy romcoms you love so much. Love u^^

You sighed. He was still so sweet, so caring, when he should be really annoyed, right? His girlfriend was a walking zombie, why didn’t he already break up with you?

Hey lix, sorry no time today.

Then you quickly put your phone away. You couldn’t stand thinking of his lips turning into that sad pout, when he’d read your answer. But you couldn’t meet him. You didn’t care how stubborn that was, but you wouldn’t let him see you like this. He would see right through you, and get you to tell him what was wrong.

You stopped making excuses someday. Who even cared? Sooner or later he’d leave, just like your friends. No lame excuses would matter then. Someone like you was unlovable. And that would never change.

As felix read your response he sighed.

That was enough. He wouldn’t let your relationship carry on like that. He wouldn’t let you carry on like that. Something was clearly wrong and he wouldn’t stand so far away and watch you slowly shut down from the entire world. Not anymore. Tonight he would come to your apartment, if you wanted to or not.

You didn’t remember what you did throughout the day. When you tried to recall it, there were only hazy memories, covered in a grey, thick fog. You didn’t even remember how you came home. Everything just happened. Now, you were walking through your apartment door, kicking off your shoes and coat. With a deep sigh, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You shut the door, immediately sinking down on the floor. You were exhausted. More than that. The past days, or maybe even weeks you had held everything in more than usual. You felt like passing out right then and there, on the cold bathroom tiles. But there was something else. You knew that feeling. When you would have spent too many days in numbness, then at one point, every emotion, everything you thought wasn’t there before, creeps up in your throat from the depths of your soul. You feel the grieve, the sadness, the anger, the guilt, every single emotion crashing down on you at once. And then you can’t stop it anymore.

Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you pulled your knees up for a bit comfort.

These were the moment you hated the most, besides the numbness. Being numb is uneblievably tiring, but when all the feelings, everything comes up at once, that is even worse. You never knew how to deal with your emotions well. When you were a kid you never got the chance to express emotions. Crying was not allowed. If you did, you’d hear „ Stop it, or i’ll give you a reason to cry.“ If you screamed or hit out of anger you’d get punished in some way. Only a polite smile was, what was allowed to show on the outside, what to show to other people. That was probably part of the reason why you’d grown into a person who had these unhealthy, shitty habits, instead of expressing and coping with their emotions well.

You knew you should just let it pass. Endure these feelings. Maybe text someone to try and distract yourself. But somehow, you always went back to drowning out emotions with physical pain. You took the sharp blade from the bathroom drawer, your hands going unbelievable shaky like they always did when you took it out. You only started to cry more. You hated that you did it. You hated that you were a person that couldn’t handle their own feelings like a responsible adult, and had to shut them out with self harming instead. And still you did it again and again. You hated the way your arm looked when you put your sleeve up now. White lines from old cvts. Slightly reddish ones from some that happened some time ago. And those brightred ones. Reminders of not too long ago. They made you so angry. Reminding you of who you were. Of what you were.

So you decided to look away. You just put the blade to your wrist, looking at the blank bathroom wall. It was already so familiar, you knew where it would hurt the most without even looking.

Felix was searching around his apartment for that gray hoodie you wanted to have everytime you saw him wearing it. Maybe it would cheer you a bit up. As he finally found it, he grabbed the brownies he had made for you earlier, and his keys, heading out his apartment, to head to yours instead.

He started his car. It was a short drive so there was not much time for thinking. But there were some thoughts in the back of his head. Wasn’t he overstepping? You clearly didn’t want to see him, maybe you were also just annoyed?

But felix shook those voices off. He knew you. He had known you for years, and this wasn’t you. He had to do this.

And then he was already at your apartment. Slowly he got out of the car, taking the things, and started to walk up the stairs.

Soon he was in front of your door. Should he knock? He knew where your spare key was but he didn’t want to be respectless. So he softly knocked on the door.

„Y/n? It’s me, felix. I know you didn’t want to meet, but… i was worried. Can we talk please, my love?“

He waited for a minute. But there was no answer. Maybe you really weren’t at home? He decided to just try it. To his surprises the door was unlocked. That meant you were home, but also why would you let your door stay unlocked? He sighed, and locked it from the inside. He quietly took off his shoes, and put them on the side. Yours were scattered messily on the floor, and your coat too. Usually you hated when something in your apartment wasn’t organized. Maybe you were in a hurry before. He went into the kitchen, wich was dark, putting the brownies on the counter. „Y/n?“ he softly called out again. Still no answer.

But there, suddenly he heard something. A quiet, mumbling or...crying? His brows furrowed and he tried to follow the sound. There. In the bathroom. It seemed like you didn’t hear him calling you. At first he considered just going back to your kitchen and waiting there for you to come out, but when he heard another deep sob from you, he knew what to do. Whatever was going on right now, he wanted to be by your side. So he took a deep breath and opened the door.

„Y/N, what is g-“ His eyes widened in shock, and your head perked up immediately at the door clicking open, your gaze changing from surprise, to confusion, to somewhat realization and guilt. The sight in front of him horrified him. His beautiful, lovely girlfriend sat on the bathroom floor, her face red and puffy from crying, and a sharp blade in her hand. And your arm… How couldn’t he notice? He just stood there, in the door, staring at you.

You couldn’t read his face. Was he mad…? Of course he’d be mad. You quickly reacted as you got to your senses again. You jumped up, letting the blade fall, and a drop of blood dropping down on your white bathroom tiles.

„Felix…. I can explain, i h-haven’t, it’s not what it looks like o-okay? I’m okay, p-please i know you’re mad but-“

You got cut off. You couldnt’t even say anything more, because suddenly you were wrapped up tightly in your boyfriend’s comforting, warm embrace. You forgot how good a hug from him felt… And when you got a little glance at his face that was it. No anger, no twisted kind of any emotion against you. There was pure sympathy and love. When you also saw a tear rolling down his face, you couldn’t take it anymore. You buried your face in his neck, and let go. You sobbed uncontrollably, your arms and legs trembling so much, to the point your knees gave in, and felix slowly sank to the ground with you. Why did the cvts on your arms suddenly really hurt for the first time? He had you pulled on his lap, rocking you back and forth, stroking your hair gently. „Shhh, it’ll be alright. I’m here now, you are not alone.“

Good thirty minutes later, your sobbing had stopped, and only warm paths of tears remained on your cheeks. Felix lifted your head from his neck a bit, so he could look into your eyes. Though you had just cried your heart out, it was still the most mesmerizing pair of eyes he had seen in his life. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

„Let me treat those, okay?“ He simply said, glancing at your cuts.

He was gentle. He desinfected every single cut, apologizing every time you hissed at the sharp pain. Then he put some healing ointment on your fresh ones, and some at your older ones too. Then, with gentle, calm hands he bandaged your arms. He ended his treament with featherlight kisses on them. Then he got up, helping you up too. He had his hands on your side, his eyes on your face.

„Love…I won’t ever judge you, or get mad at you for anything, i hope you know that okay? I know that this is probably your way to cope with things, and i know that you know it’s not healthy. But it’s okay. Please just promise me, you will come to me instead of doing that, from now on hm? Everytime you want to do it you call me, text me, whatever. I’d rather have you crying in my arms for hours, venting to me for hours, you screaming at me, or do whatever you need to, than have you hurt and bleeding entirely alone on the floor. I’ll come over, and do whatever i need to, to cheer you up alright? And don’t shut me out from your life. I want to be a part again. I miss the way you’d text me when you see something that makes you smile. Or when you send me pics of the cute cats you saw on the sidewalk. Or when you just simply tell me about your day. And most important of all, i’ll stay by your side okay? No matter what. I will do everything to help you recover, and build up your life in a way that makes you happy okay? Let me help you sunshine. You don’t need to do it all alone.No matter how hard it in the past was, I’m here now, and I don’t plan on leaving soon.“

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time you smiled at him. „Okay lixie. Okay. I’ll try.“

Then he softly smiled at you, and guided you to your livingroom, where he made you sit on the couch. He rushed off to the kitchen, and was soon back again with a plate of brownies and his gray hoodie. „It seems like you didn’t eat much lately, you’ve been getting a bit too skinny, love. But don’t worry, now i’m here to feed you with everything you want to eat. You don’t need to move a single finger.“ He mumbled, as he first handed you the hoodie, wich you put on immediately and snuggled into it. It had always been your comfort hoodie, since it was big, fluffy, and always smelled like him a lot. Then he put down the plate in front of you. Felix’ brownies had always been one of your favorite things. They were delicious like no one else’s.Everytime you asked him what he was throwing in there, he always told you that it was his love and care wich he made them with. You believed him, this man made everything better with his sunny personality.

You simply smiled at him, and took one of the brownies, taking a big bite

„That’s my girl.“ He chuckled, ruffling your hair. As you were munching, and he was watching you with a fond smile, he suddenly asked „Do you have a marker somewhere here?“ You looked up, raising a brow. „Yeah, in the drawer over there i guess, why?“ He just stood up, and opened said drawer, taking the marker. He was back by your side in an instant. „Please give me one arm love“ He said, politely like always. You were still pretty confused but how could you say no to that? So you slowly laid your bandaged arm in his hands. He kissed it once and then softly started to draw on it. „What are you doing?“ you asked, mouth full of brownie.

„Those my love, are battle scars. It isn’t beautiful how you got them, but they are a part of you now, and they make you the person you are. They deserve to be called beautiful now too, like every single body part of yours. I love every part of you. And when they are healed, I’ll kiss each and everyone of them, but for now, they deserve to be treated with care. They will only heal properly, if you let them. If you’d always be angry when you’d look at them, they would never really heal. You would never really heal. You need to forgive yourself, and someday you will be able to move on. They show how far you’ve come, that it was very hard, but you never gave up. Battle scars, my love.“

You looked into his eyes. He said all that so sincere, you believed every word. And then as he was done you saw what he did. A lot of little stars, and a pretty moon in the middle were drawn on the bandages. And next to the moon he wrote a little note

„Because i want you to never forget who you are. You are Y/n L/n, a fighter, and the most beautiful woman i know.“

„How did i deserve you lee felix?“ You murmured in awe.

„You deserve the world, and more my love.“

And that really was a turning point. Thanks to felix, your days weren’t dull anymore. He was always there with you, laughing and talking a lot, but he also respected when you wanted some alone time. And when you came to him somedays, crying and telling him that you wanted to do it again, he took you in his arms, wrapped you both into a blanket and rocked you back and forth, until no tears were left anymore, and the world seemed a bit brighter again. Then he mumbled soothing reassurances into your hair, kissing you on the forehead.

And like this, you were willing to try. You were willing to try and recover, and create a life that you loved living, with him in it.

a/n: now a note to: @athenawindwolf because I didn't have the courage to say it that night ( we ignore that i'm writing this while you are texting me,still in that night), i'll be your chan friend, and in the context of this fanfic your felix friend, whenever you need me. I hope yk, I never judge anyone, and i've been through a lot too so rlly i would never ever judge or tell anyone if you tell me smth. We said we r the big sisters of our friends now, so that means we r sisters right? Come to me whenever you need to talk. Now this was for u, and I also have to say i'm thankful someone is sharing one of my interests now<3 Ily di angelo.@athenawindwolf (and i hope i didn't make you cry with this fic)

[fanaticsnail]

An Acquired Taste

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,000+

Synopsis: After battle and witnessing how much you care and respect all life, including that of his subordinate Koby outside of his pirate facade, Drake offers to buy you a drink. What starts as flirty conversation and playful banter hastily leads to Drake tugging you into his lap and placing sweet kisses against your lips. It has been so long since he got anything he wants, and he was not willing to let you pass him by.

Themes: X-Drake x afab!reader, NSFW, 18+, smut, mdni, drinking, penetration (reader receiving), Zoan fruit differences, half-shifting, fluff, Drake has two. Two.

Notes: First time writing for Drake, so please excuse any mischaracterisations. The idea of two stems a conversation with a beautiful friend on discord - to which this fic is dedicated. Happy New Year, @autumnnjoy, I hope you like where the initial idea took us to 🖤

Whether it was the fact that you were a Straw Hat hovering over Koby in a large flurrying skirmish between pirates and marines, or the fact you went so far as to buy him a drink and check Koby over at the end of your victory, X-Drake had never wanted anyone so much in his life. Long since disregarding his own wants and needs as he served the world government undercover, he truly felt himself overcome with impulsive desires.

Drake couldn't give away the fact he was an undercover marine to one of the worst generation, but he needed you to know how much he appreciated your efforts to save his would-be subordinate. So, without losing such a facade as his thick cloak of piracy, he decided to lean into that same impulse that burned in his chest and swelled in his heart. He was a pirate, he should start behaving as a pirate should when enjoying the spoils of battle.

Approaching you and your crew was easy enough for him, giving curt nods to your crew and laughing at something the skeleton-man said, he finally found you amongst the crowd of rowdy pirates.

“I see you're enjoying the spoils of war,” he nodded to you with a half-drunk tankard placed in your hands, “May I offer to buy you another?” You tilt your head to the side and narrow your eyes up at the partially masked captain before you.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, and your wallet, captain?” you quip back, darting your eyes between his, “I've done nothing to warrant such a gift.”

“You've done far from nothing, my dear,” he smiled back while gesturing with his head to indicate for you to follow behind him. He brushed off the top of a stool with the back of his hand before giving it two pats to usher you atop. “You're an incredible fighter, and achieving so much with minimal bloodshed. You not only served your crew, but stood for one that most would deem your enemy.”

“You're buying me a drink because I got the least amount of kills?” you scoff, arching your brow while you slowly take your place atop the stool, "And 'my dear', is rather cheesy, don't you know?" Drake rolled his eyes and gestured to the barkeep for two drinks at the counter.

“I'm getting you a drink because you managed to respect the lives you took and defended the innocent,” he scoffed at you, “But, sure. If that also means the least amount of slaughters, then I'm buying you drinks due to your low kill count, my dear. Would you prefer 'my darling', or is that also 'too cheesy'?" That comment managed to break a small amount of laughter from your lips, especially when witnessing the smile draw up to decorate his cheeks.

As his attention had turned away from you, you took a moment to map a trail against his body with your eyes. He was a little different than your usual type, but no less striking. Ginger hair, mask over his eyes, and those hands that hold such power, X-Drake held such mystery in his devil-fruit and how it altered him. Reptilian, horrifying, and strong was his draconic Zoan fruit alter ego, but his nature seemed kind to you.

He passed you your drink once it arrived and gently tapped the side of his tankard against yours before raising it to his lips. Your eyes continued to follow those hands as you swore his fingernails became jagged and small divots of raised scales were produced. His eyes focussed on the position yours were fixed on before he drew up a small frown donning his brow.

“Does… Am I… making you uncomfortable?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders and recalling his scales back beneath his human skin. Unsure as to whether it was the drink calling your boldness to you, or whether you felt to comfort him with his appearance, you placed your hand over his and gently squeezed over his knuckles.

“On the contrary,” you beam fondly up at him, “I was rather marvelling at you. You're an… interesting pirate, Drake. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

His warm chuckle christened the air for the first time between you, and you found yourself marvelling at the melodic interlude it drew your conversation to. The longer you spoke, the more enchanted you found yourself becoming by this reptilian man. Praises fell freely of your prowess on the battlefield. Drake found himself going so far as to buy you and himself several more drinks, and a rather inviting hot meal at the tavern with the celebrating companies of your crews.

After the meals and water between ales, you found yourself in his lap and pressing soft kisses against his lips while his voice continued to decorate the air with exclamations of your greatness. Praise and gratitude was not uncommon to you as a straw hat, but witnessing it fall from the lips of a captain you had grown to respect was something completely different. Greatness moved on to how attractive he found you, quickly finding your lips beneath his and muffling his need for you in every mouthed motion. When you expressed a similar desire, it took him no longer than that simple whisper to shepherd you in his arms towards the booked inn he purchased for his crew.

You knew you liked the captain, but you truly didn't think much more on the differences in Zoan users until the band of his waistline moved to reveal twin, excessively ribbed cocks in varying lengths. The top was smaller in size, the bottom thick and girthy. Both of them had several triangular barbs darting along where many former partners had a thick vein. Aside from the claw earlier, you assumed the only reptilian part of him was scales as he half shifted - not two cocks sitting beneath his Adonis belt and growing in size the longer you spent kissing him.

"I... I hope you are not regretting your decision to couple with me," he whispered as his eyes darted between yours from his position beneath you. "I would not blame you if you no longer desired. I know... I know I'm an acquired taste, if a taste at all-."

“-I have no regrets about this,” You immediately pushed on his chest to throw him back against the mattress and moved to straddle his lap, “As I would've appreciated the heads up, I have no idea how you would've incorporated that into our conversation.” Your smile drew one of his own up his cheeks as he felt his cocks throb in need. You felt the twitch against your heat and laughed a little at the touch before it swelled into a soft moan.

The ridges, divots, and barbs overwhelmed your clit by hitting it at an angle that drew an uprising amount of essence to pool at your entrance. While you couldn't take both right now, you were determined to take one of his cocks.

As you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, you angled yourself to seek out his bottom cock with your dripping slit. He had worked you up so much with kissing alone that the sight of his ridged members made your eyes blacken with feral lust and arousal seep out over his cocks. You could barely believe it yourself at the haste your cunt sucked in his cock, forcing both of you to moan info one another's mouths. Your clit brushed with the ribs of his top cock once more, which was now pressed flush against his belly, and the motion caused a wanton moan to erupt from your chest. Bobbing on his bottom cock had his top cock grinding in a way against it to have you cry out in heavenly torment. This bliss was unexpected, but you found your edge rising with a quickened haste.

"Oh, fuck," Drake sighed, his eyes rolling back in bliss. "Oh, fuck, you're perfect. In every way, you're so, damn perfect." More praises flew from his lips as his hands morphed into claws and pressed against your hips. His scaled hands gripped hard as he aided you to bounce and grind on his lap. His top cock leaked on his lap with pearly drops of precum. It had been so long since he'd taken a lover that this was quickly pushing him over the edge. His need came out in rough pants of breath and desperate exhales with a small rasp within as his balls swelled up against his abdomen in need.

"K-Keep grinding like that on the top one," he begged as he shifted you to and fro against his top cock while the ribs brushed against your clit and bottom cock pulsed within your cunt, “Don't f-focus on the other. I need to feel you against me. Come on, my darling. Let me feel you against me.”

“Drake!” Your voice cracked as your edge drew ever nearer. Keeping the entirety of his lengthy sheathed within you, you focussed on rocking and grinding on the bulbs of his top cock. “Nghhh-, shit. This-, I-, Drake-!” Words and cohesion was lost on you the longer he made your pleasure draw up to the pinicle.

"Oh fuck, you're gonna make me cum! Sh-Shit!! I-I'm cumming, mnnnghhh, fuck-!" He quickly caged you atop him by pulling you into his chest. Planting his heels, he bucked into you in heavy, violent pulses. Every barb pulsed within you as he flooded your insides and the space between you with hot ropes of his sticky cum.

This new feral wave of this unbridled captain pushed you over the edge and oblivion flooded your body as lightning struck behind your eyes. White split your vision as waves of ecstasy crashed against your body. Your lips parted as a soundless moan choked deep within your throat. Cumming hard like this was not an easily achievable feat, but with Drake's twin cocks touching every sensitive part of you so carefully, you found yourself keening and crying out for him with a resounding ease.

"Sh-Shit," he whispered, slowing down his movements to languid and gentle thrusts as your cunt milked his cock in rhythmic pulses. "I... You... Are you alright, my dear? My darling?" You nodded dumbly as words failed to find you, simply ragdoll in the captain's arms. He pressed several kisses against your temple while he simply rocked you on his lap for comfort - both coming down from your encumbering highs in unison.

"All this simply because you liked how I looked all feral while in battle, and my low kill count?" You questioned him, smiling as you caught your breath in heaped gulps of air. Gently tilting your head, you darted your eyes between his while you waited for his answer.

"No, my darling," he whispered in response while using one of his large, reptilian hands to brush against your lower back, "All this because you cared enough about all sides to minimise the damage.” As you cocked your head to the side in puzzlement, Drake clarified while hushing his voice ever quieter, “Not all strengths rise from ferocity, and the way you protected the pink-haired marine moved me."

"Ah,” you clicked your tongue with a playful smile hiding the sincerity beneath it, “So you like it when I protect my friends." You leaned up on your forearm against his chest, gently flicking his nose with your index finger. He playfully scrunched up his nose at you while darting his eyes between your own.

"That I do," he smiled in response, moving his lips up to press a kiss to the pad of your index finger. You carefully eyed him to judge his next thoughts while he continued to place gentle and delicate kisses over more of your fingertips.

"You want to be my friend, Drake?" You ask as you lean down with a purposeful roll of your hips on his lap. He groaned as he answered you with a flutter of his ginger eyelashes.

"So long as I get to do all this again, I'm prepared for you to call me anything."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[krypticcafe]

Reader/ Y/n coming back to base covered in blood and tortured while 141 + Alejandro had no idea where reader was since they left in the morning.

Reader is "the little sibling/adopted child that we must protect all cause" to the boys

Love your writing so much ❤️

As Long as I'm Here

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic gn!reader x 141 + alejandro

warning(s): canon-typical violence, language, drugs and drugging, torture, blood, military inaccuracies, no use of y/n, no beta read

a/n: Hope you don't mind that I decided to put this all in one long fic, kinda struggled with the writing direction with this since I had to rewrite it multiple times and I had to cut it short so I'll probably make a part two?

synopsis: it's going to take a lot more than simple torture to keep you from going back to the 141.

Part Two is now up!

"I'll be back before they know it."

Those were the last words you thought to yourself before you hopped off the helicopter. You and a team of other capable members of SpecGru and the Los Vaqueros had left before the crack of dawn for a joint operation and anticipated coming back by the afternoon if things went smoothly. And of course, they didn't.

No, you couldn't be afforded such a luxury as seen by how you were overwhelmed in battle. You wish you could've said you did your best, but god dammit you should've checked before entering that building, thinking you could lure the enemy away from the rest of your team. Compared to the hours you spent strapped to a chair with nothing but fluorescent light and a buzzing in your ears to compliment the throbbing pain in your head, you started to prefer the option of joining the rest of your teammates becoming target practice instead.

It didn't help either that the people who caught you were sick bastards. You could deal with the punches, a kick to the crotch, the hair pulling, cigar smoke, the blades, and having your body slammed around the place. It was nothing compared to practice with the 141 and prior missions you had with them. But when the metal cart of syringes came out, you knew you were beyond fucked, even when you had a swollen eye, a busted lip, broken ribs, open cuts, and burns. They took it a step further and injected experimental drugs you were supposed to investigate, homemade concoctions as they lovingly called them.

By pure shitty luck, you only escaped because one of them was stupid enough to clean up after offering you a glass of water when you woke up after passing out, dropping and shattering it in front of you, and not bothering to clean up. When your guard left to go take a piss break, you threw yourself to the floor and tried to squirm your way to the glass, using a shard to cut through your ropes. Once your guard came back, you pretended to still be bounded to your seat, coaxing him to come closer as if you wanted to confess something, and slit his throat. From there, it was easy now that you had a gun.

Or at least it was supposed to be. Maybe it was the heat of the moment or the adrenaline of finally being able to move, but the drugs hadn't fully kicked in until now. Your whole world seemed to sway, or maybe it was just you. You couldn't tell, all that mattered was that you could fight. Based on the layout of the building you were in, you were still in the same area as you were before. It took more bullets than you would've liked to admit to take down the guards that were in your way, but how was it your fault when the only two thoughts in your head were 'Where the fuck is my stuff' and 'God I'm gonna puke'.

Whoever kidnapped you really didn't think things through. Security was tight on the second floor but the bottom floor just had a single guy in the kitchen messing with a bag of crackers. You aimed your gun at him and click!

Click!

Clickclickclick!

Shit.

Well that caught his attention. You ducked down right when he reached for his gun, tossing your empty one to the side now that you'd be doing this the hard way. Waiting with bated breath, you took your window of opportunity, lunging when he had to reload. You took him by such surprise that he fumbled to put in another magazine and that allowed you to knock the weapon from his hands and tackle him to the ground. The both of you struggled on the hardwood floors for what felt like hours, but it was only a minute at most. Even in your feverish, dizzy, survival-instincts-only state, you overpowered him and stabbed him with his own knife.

Towering over the body, you gasped for breath, feeling your lungs struggling to expand and contract if you didn't force yourself to focus on the task. Great, now you're sweaty, weak, bloody, and out of breath. Based on how your hands started trembling, your symptoms were getting worse. Pacing around the area, you found your bag on a couch and fished around for the radio, yelling out your callsign before the rest of them would discover why their friends were suddenly so silent over comms.

"Sending coordinates, get a chopper over to exfil ASAP. And a damn medic."

The 141 were back from their own mission when they had heard the news of your distress call. Ghost was on the verge of strangling one of men that was on the team with you if they didn't add the fact that you made a reckless move for the sake of the team. Ghost could agree that it was something that only you would do despite his constant arguing with you and his protectiveness over you. He'd keep an eye out for you from the shadows both on base and in the field, be the one to challenge you to push your limits during your sparring matches, make sure you were well-trained so you could protect yourself. And yet you would instead protect the 141's asses countless times.

Ghost was brooding in the helicopter, well, more like sulking after a mission with you and Soap. During the crossfire, he wasn't able to keep an eye out for his flank and see the grenade flying for him. In a desperate move, you shoved him out of the blast range with all your strength, landing you with a couple burns and injuries, but nothing fatal. You knew he was going to get moody afterwards, giving a knowing glance to Soap before turning back to Ghost and nudging his leg with your boot.

"Hey, L.T, you were in the British S.A.S, right?"

"..."

"Just answer the question! C'mon Ghost, for me? Pleaaaase?"

"Affirmative."

"So back then, if you were to get bathroom duty, would they call you a Loo-tenant?"

"... negative. Was promoted after joining the 141." He turned his head away, and despite his blunt, by-the-book response, you knew he was smirking under that mask of his, especially with how Johnny and you were both snickering your asses off.

"Ghost?"

Simon snapped out of his thoughts and looked back at Soap, visibly concerned for the masked man but reading him all at the same time. Years of working together helped Soap get over the boundary of Ghost's silence and stoicism, and Ghost wasn't the only one looking out for you after all.

"You alright, L.T?"

"Solid, just need a talk with Price."

"I know what you're thinkin', and as much as I'd love to shove it to the bastards, they're going to need us when they come back. Price will come up with something, we just hafta wait 'til then." For once, Soap was the voice of reason and Ghost couldn't argue with his point.

"He's right, you know." Price stood a few feet away from the two in the hall, "Kid's capable of themselves but they're going to need a shoulder to lean on when they get here. Maybe a couple stitches, too."

Price hoped it was only going to be a few stitches. Though he knew it probably wasn't the case. Alongside Roach and Gaz, he had trained you for these situations, ensuring it would never happen and it never did thanks to his mentorship. He saw you as one of his own and ensured that you'd be able to fight tooth and nail so that it would never end up like this. But now that it has, he could only wonder what could've been done to you for you to get captured.

He didn't want to wonder.

"Bloody hell, what did they do to you?" Gaz muttered, watching as you stepped down the ramp with a soldier aiding at your side. There was an attempt to bandage you up on the way, though it only seemed to be temporary since your bandages were already stained with blood and some of it oozed out. Even the bandages around your head didn't stop the crimson liquid from spilling down the side of your face. The soldier passed you to Gaz, immediately urging that your injuries be tended to.

"Something's wrong, look." Roach helped support your other side to allow Gaz to examine you.

With a closer look, Gaz found that your pupils were disturbingly dilated, eyes glazed over in a way that made you almost look dead. You were muttering and mumbling nonsense under your breath, something about the mission and wanting to go home.

Gaz swallowed an anxious breath and nodded, "We'll get you home soon, buddy. Roach, help me take off their gear."

As soon as the other man began unclipping your vest from your body, it seemed something had pulled a trigger in you.

"No... no you're not- don't fucking touch me-!" You slurred, weakly tearing yourself from the hands of your friends. It surprised Gaz that you had the energy to punch his chest with that much force, but it broke his heart all at the same time. Roach guessed that you were so out of it that you could barely comprehend your surroundings, hell, you probably thought you were still in captivity. It hurt to imagine your perspective, and how vulnerable you felt, thinking they were your enemies.

"What's going on here?" Price's voice rose over all the noise as people tried to calm you down, Soap and Ghost following behind him along with Alejandro, who joined them with no hesitance after hearing what happened.

Roach approached them, "I don't know, the Sergent just came back like this, like they're in some kind of haze."

"They're drugged, at least, I think. I took a look at them and they don't even look like they recognize us," Gaz struggled to keep you from falling but you were insistent on getting away from him, from everyone. Thankfully, Ghost had come up from behind you without being noticed and locked you in a hold. You tried to flail even more, but with your weakened state and Ghost's strength, all you could do was yell with sloppy words for him to let go of you. It hurt them all to hear you yowl and yelp like an animal in pain, but they knew that you'd only hurt yourself more if Ghost didn't keep you like this. He forced himself to ignore your cries and clenched his jaw, focusing on keeping his temper and how he was going to let it out when given a chance.

"Steamin' Jesus, Price, I thought this was a cartel recon mission?" Soap seethed at the thought of what might've happened. Torture was one thing, but it was this whole new level of "fucked-up" that had him wanting to snap and tear at the throats of your tormentors.

"It was," Alejandro spoke up, "There was talk of a new drug on the market, released even though it was 'incomplete'. Nobody know that it was more dangerous than it was supposed to be, nobody outside of them." The words left a sour taste in his mouth. Cartels being reckless was nothing new to him, it was something he had seen time and time again. But it was the lack of awareness, the blatant disregard for safety and society, and how they betrayed their own people that made him livid. As a leader, he emphasized his loyalty and dedication to his soldiers, which was why he considered those who worked for and with him to be friends or even family, like you. So to him, if someone had messed with you, they were messing with him and his army as well.

Price glanced in the direction of you and Ghost for a moment, watching you finally begin to calm down from tiring yourself out. His gaze softened after you finally went limp, but still breathing, and he felt a pang of disappointment in himself for the briefest of moments. Maybe if he had known you'd leave so early in the day, he could've better prepared you. Maybe he should've assigned one of the others to join you so you wouldn't be in this predicament. But he didn't know. He didn't expect things would go this far south. None of them did.

"We'll finish the job first and then," Price took one last look as you were taken away on a stretcher, unconscious but writhing with a pained expression.

"We give them hell."

[planete777]

FREAK・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n is full of surprises and shows lando just how dirty she can be. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI, reader x brother'sbsf!lando, riding, mentions of sex toys, high hotness part 3464476, lando is lowkey in love with the reader, getting caught... but not really getting caught.

NOTE. my dearest anon requested and i HAD to write this. my last high!lando installment probably for a while because the summer is coming to an end 😭 i do have one more other fic coming tho, so stay tuned. anyways enjoy luvss <3 also credit to @lesbiacebian for the dividers.

"are you really slagging me off for your girlfriend?"

lando's voice is incredulous, syllables barely pristine as the weed in his head breaks down any cohesion left. the hand pinching the spliff falls to the bed as he sits up, staring at his unmoving best friend.

"she just texted me, i'm not gonna ditch her for you, lando, no offence."

"all taken," he grumbles, then moves to take a harsh inhale of his joint. he may be completely high out of his fucking wits, but he's certainly not pliable like that. he came to get so faded with his friend (and, second to name, supplier) that his brain would feel like it's being suspended over a grill and burned with smoke.

"well," lando sees him shrug half heartedly, "she's putting something on the line for her late night endeavours."

lando scoffs, taking another godforsaken drag. pussy, he thinks, he's getting fucking pussy.

"you're a nasty piece of shit, you know that?"

the boy ahead of him waves him off, "better start going mate, she'll be here any minute."

lando stares blankly at him for so long his eyes begin to unfocus, before he's shaking his head, sliding off the sheets. what a dickhead.

"fine whatever." he opens the door, taking an inhale and exhale of the joint wedged in his lips, and he descends the carpeted stairs with little sentience. his limbs feel dismembered and he can barely perceive the distance from on step to another, but he reaches the ground floor anyways, making his way to the living room.

he guessed he'd find her here, practically one with the couch and eyes welded to the tv screen glimmering with another uninteresting reality show.

the light's off, and considering he could barely walk in a straight line due to the blunt puffing out smoke from his mouth, he doesn't notice y/n turning towards him, pressing pause on the tv.

"lando, hey."

her voice is light, as if she's afraid of disturbing the night, and she swings her legs off the couch. lando subtly scrutinizes what she wears, a tight tank top, and equally as tight shorts, and he begins to feel blood rush to his dick.

"hey," he smirks with the blunt still in his mouth, and shuffles towards the now empty space beside the girl who had him thinking with his dick. he forces the thoughts away, he's not acquainted with the whole corruption kink thing, and y/n screams bloody virgin.

"what brings you here, high out of your mind?" she's staring intensely, as if a blink would make him vanish, grinning light-heartedly.

lando chuckles, taking a long drag, "your brother wanted to get laid, and i'm sure not a voyeurist."

even the thought of it makes y/n grimace, "point made," she curls her legs back unto the couch as lando's eyes follow her.

it's not long before the sound of the doorbell ringing shrills once, dragged until the duration of it could barely hit it being a nuisance. y/n's brother tumbles down the stairs, opening the door with much vigour before dragging her up the stairs with hurrief footsteps. the whole ordeal plays out with silence between y/n and lando, hearing the ruckus with barely concealed amusement, and is cut dead once the bedroom door slams.

"i do not want to hear all that," y/n groans, "his room is right above this one."

"happens when you're pussy whipped like him," lando huffs out a cloud of smoke, "forget who the fuck is around."

"you know you can... go back home," y/n's sceptical, and rightfully so because lando has no idea why he's staying. nevertheless, he makes up an incomplete incentive that sounded valid only in his head.

"i know, but i'm high as fuck and walking in this heat home... yeah no."

his neck flexes as he sucks in as much weed as he can, and y/n watched avidly. something about seeing lando at the mercy of his inhibitions, eyes so red that wherever he looks, he paints it crimson, and lips selling his soul away to the strings of smoke. he's too out if it to notice y/n's assessment, with his head sunken into the couch behind him, and it makes the girl laugh.

"you're gone, aren't you?"

lando does nothing but smirk affirmatively, before limply taking another drag.

"and i could definitely do with a bed to sleep on," he pushes a sound out of his throat, "your brother... fucker, he is."

"for sure," y/n agrees then shuffles to get up, patting lando's thigh. he flitters his eyes open in surprise, diluted, however, because of his lack of level headedness, "what?"

"just this once, i'll give you my bed."

"really?" the word is chipped between his teeth from the burn scarred into the back of his throat.

"yeah," she smiles. lando pretends he doesn't feel his heart grin with her.

"i'm feeling nice today."

he stands up, stretches and feels his joints scream out inexplicable noises. the bed seems like paradise now.

"oh mint, thank you."

receiving a hum in return, he follows the girl up the stairs, praying that his legs don't give way. his mind dozes off as they get to the landing, and it's only when he trails behind her inside, on autopilot, and she shuts the door, does his conscience focus like accomodating vision.

"i need to go the bathroom, one sec."

his mind has one whiplash after another as he process her rapid disappearance, before tuning back into the room. it's tame, like any young adult room would be, with half-wave plant bunting snaking around her room. her headboard, however, glows white, abd he figures it's from the leds stuck under the rim.

he walks up to the bedside tableand picks up a small framed picture of her and her brother. young, they were, standing side by side with identical sunglasses on. he smiles, then situates it back.

the drawer beneath is open, just enough for him to slip his hand through and open it, but of everything he could presume to find, he does not expect to meet a clear purple dildo, thicker and longer than biologically possible. he feels like there's a broken wire in his brain, hanging and tickling just where it triggers his dick to harden.

he doesn't know why he's enthralled by it, staring at the phallic toy as if it would magically display the images of it being pushed and pressed into y/n, but then he finds himself wishing so. corruption was never his thing, but now it doesn't have to be. because y/n is already debauched from the hot inside, to the deceiving out.

he stands there, idle, and it pushes a huff of laughter from behind him.

"you can get in the bed, lando," she pronounces like he's a formative infant. but he's not moving.

"what is this, y/n?"

he can't see her face fall, confused, but he hears it in the way she speaks, "what?"

then he's storming to her, standing just before her with a burning look. y/n's not stupid, can tell the way he's turned on but whatever he's seen, if not by the way his eyes flick down to her lips, then by the bulge that pokes her peripheral vision, and it's that her eyes widen in shock.

"oh fuck."

"oh fuck indeed," he takes a final drag before quelling it on the desk behind her, "who knew you were shoving 8 inch dildos up your pussy?"

y/n knows where to push his buttons, get the heat rising like a flood of lava just before it turns into a battle of who will give in first?

her arms are wrapping themselves around his shoulders, pulling him in, "and who knew," a hand, calculative and slow, slides down to press the hard on in his jeans, "you would get turned on by it?"

then he's kissing her, hard, wet, messy, with tongues and soft lips eager for each other like they were quenching years of thirst. lando takes everything that y/n gives him, lapping at her tongue and biting at her lips with unrestricted composure.

she's pushing him back, hands scrambling on his top to get it off, and when she does, gives him a final nudge to the chest that has him flying to the bed.

he smirks up at her, watching as she dwindles to nakedness and lando thinks that he can't be seeing this. y/n, in front of him, stripping as if it's a private show, with her brother just a few doors down. it's fucking filthy, and makes him hot all over.

"you gonna suck me off?"

he'd found a way, though he feels semi paralyzed, to rid himself of his jeans, slowly jerking his dick as precum begins to trickle down his skin.

"want to, but i need your dick inside me," y/n says, all breathy and pent up, causing lando to groan as she crawls her way up his thighs.

"fuck, you're gonna kill me." his heart is accelerating in his chest, the libido in him heightens as y/n chuckles at him and takes his dick out of his own hand and he feels completely brainless.

"you ready?"

all he can muster is a nod, and then hot fucking tightness. their moans are akin in volume, elastic and lewd, and as y/n slips further down, lando's dick feels completely rock hard and throbs as he swears every gallon of his blood pools at his cock.

"fucking hell, you're tight, y/n," his mouth feels wet and dry simultaneously and he squeezes his eyes shut as she begins to roll her hips and press down hard.

she bounces and grinds like she's meant for it, and lando can't process that sweet, innocent y/n is bouncing on his dick, squeezing him like she wants to keep him there.

his hands grip her ass, thrusting upwards to meet her hips and the cacophony of slapping skin snaps any vocal composure in him. lando moans like he's being eaten by pleasure itself and y/n grinds and grinds and grinds.

"fuck, lando," her head is thrown back like it's completely broken, and lando preens.

"you're so fucking good for me, y/n, keep going," he can't hold back, feels his hands grip her hips and her ass careening into his thighs with every bounce and, fuck, it's so dirty and so good.

y/n looks slutted out, debauched as she splits herself on his cock. it sends lando tipping over the edge, about to cum fast and deep, when a harsh knocking pounds into the door.

they both freeze, panting as sweat licks heat into their flesh.

"for fuck's sake, keep it down! some people are trying to sleep!"

it's shortly followed by angry footsteps and a slam of a door.

lando, still hard and pulsating in y/n's cunt, has a face of bewilderment, "shit— i forgot he was there."

y/n turns back, smirking, and slowly rolling her hips again, "and continue to do so. now fuck me, lando."

[mingi-s-dimples]

No Safe Haven - Jongho

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

pairing: military general!jongho x captured fem!spy

genre: army/military au, 18+, filth, enemies to lovers

summary: you never thought infiltrating in his base would get you utterly destroyed and ruined in his office.. but he made sure to make you scream his name.

wc: 5.4k

warnings: military au, enemies to lovers, mean dom!jongho, bratty!reader, lots of cursing, lots of marking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, wrist restraint, lots of talking back tehehe, fingering with a glove, fingering in general, three rounds in total, desk sex, lip biting, biting, possessiveness, unprotected sex (boo use protection irl) completely consensual, for sure forgot something &&& will edit later.

Author's Note: HELLOOOO GUYSSS it's been a while since I've posted a fic of my own, of my own idea 🫣. I've been super into military attire and stuff these days because for uni I'm going to choose the military general medicine part not the citizen one 🤞 and I got pleeentyyyy of ideas to write just about thinking of the uniforms - ups (I'm a whore for this man I'm so sorry-). Anyways it's pure filth- enjoyy 😋🎀

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The battlefield had been bloody, ruthless. You had done everything you could to keep your cover intact, but in the end,

Jongho had caught you.

You had been sent to infiltrate his ranks, gather intel, and sabotage his forces from within. But the war general, known for his unshakable control and brutal tactics, saw through your deception from the very start. Now, you were his prisoner.

The heavy scent of leather, steel, and smoke filled the war tent where you knelt on the cold stone floor, arms bound behind your back. Your head remained high despite the tight ropes digging into your wrists, despite the oppressive weight of the man standing above you. Jongho hadn’t said a word yet, but his presence was enough to suffocate you.

Boots scraped against the floor as he circled you, slow and methodical, like a lion taking its time with a wounded prey. “I should have you executed,” he mused, voice deep, rich, unwavering. “That is the price of betrayal, after all.”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Then do it.”

His lips curled at your defiance, a smirk that was both amused and completely in control. "No," he murmured, crouching to your level. "Death is a mercy you don’t deserve."

Your breath hitched as he reached out, gloved fingers tracing the side of your face in a touch that was far too gentle, too intimate for an enemy.

“You infiltrated my army,” Jongho continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Lied to me. Manipulated my men. And yet… look at you. Still trying to act strong.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his gaze. But then, his grip shifted—fingers tightening around your chin, forcing your head back until your neck was bared to him. His next words sent a shiver down your spine.

"Let’s see how long that fire lasts, little spy. Because make no mistake…" His lips brushed dangerously close to your ear. "I will enjoy watching you burn."

Your pulse was hammering, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Not when he looked at you like he already owned you.

He was too close—too much, too commanding, too intense. His breath fanned over your lips, his fingers still resting just under your chin, as if he were deciding whether to stroke or break.

You hated how easily he made you react. How his voice settled into your bones, how the weight of his gaze made your stomach tighten. So you did the only thing that made sense.

You spat in his face.

The moment the spit landed, a slow, dangerous silence settled between you.

Jongho didn’t move. Didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t react at all for a long, agonizing moment.

His head tilted as he slowly dragged his tongue across his teeth. His fingers flexed at his sides before he reached up and wiped the spit off his cheek with the back of his glove, watching you like a predator who had just decided to play with its food.

"You're fucking bold, aren't you?"

You barely had time to breathe before his hand shot out and wrapped around your throat.

Not crushing. Not yet. But firm, a warning.

His hand tightened around your throat, firm enough to keep you still, to remind you that he was the one in control here.

You should have been terrified. Any sane person would be. But you weren’t.

Not when his pupils were blown wide, Not when his breath came out ragged and heavy like he was barely holding himself back.

"You just don’t fucking know when to stop, do you?" his hand hovered in the air almost like he'd hit you, but he didn't. He backed off in a second.

Despite the way his dominance wrapped around you like a vice, despite the way his grip sent a heat spiraling through your core, you still smirked.

"You wanted to slap me," you murmured, your voice smooth, taunting. "But you didn’t."

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something darker in his eyes. Something almost feral.

"You really don’t know who the fuck you’re talking to.”

And then—his grip flexed, not enough to choke, but enough to steal your breath for half a second.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to something dark and commanding.

"I should throw you to my men," he murmured, his breath scorching against your skin. "Let them deal with you, break you the way traitors deserve."

A shiver rocketed down your spine.

"But you won’t," you breathed. "Because I belong to you, don’t I?"

The words tasted dangerous, but they weren’t a surrender. They were a challenge.

Jongho stilled and chuckled.

"See, that’s the thing," he muttered. His grip on your throat loosened just enough for his thumb to press against your bottom lip. "You talk like you have a choice."

His thumb dragged down, pulling your lip slightly—teasing, testing, owning.

"You think you can keep fighting me?" he scoffed. "That you can keep pretending you’re not fucking shaking for me?"

Your lips parted to spit something back, but you never got the chance.

Because he kissed you. And fuck, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was a war, a claim, a punishment.

His lips crashed onto yours, hot and demanding, swallowing your gasp as his fingers tangled in your hair. Then—he yanked your head back.

A sharp pull, just enough to make you arch into him, just enough to make you fucking feel it.

The kiss was messy, deep, raw. His tongue brushed against yours, then forced its way in, taking, stealing, consuming.

You hated how easily he made you respond. How your body melted into him despite the fire in your veins.

His teeth sank into your lower lip, sharp, punishing, enough to draw a gasp from deep in your throat.

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his dominance dripping from every touch, every movement.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath ragged. His fingers tightened in your hair, keeping you close, keeping you right where he wanted you. Then, just as suddenly, he ripped himself away.

Your chest heaved, your lips tingling, swollen, fucking ruined. His forehead pressed to yours, his breathing uneven, heavy.

"I’ve wanted to fucking ruin you since the moment I found out you infiltrated my base."

Your stomach flipped violently. Jongho’s voice was rough, pure gravel, pure torment.

"I should have had you killed." His lips brushed against your jaw, your cheek, your ear. His grip on your hip tightened, pulling you flush against him. "But I didn't."

Your breath came in short, quick bursts.

"Why?" you whispered, and you hated how breathless you sounded.

His smirk was pure sin. "Because I wanted to be the one to break you," he murmured. "Wanted to see you fall apart under me, wanted to hear you fucking beg."

Your nails dug into your palms, the last remnants of your resistance hanging by a thread.

He tilted his head, his nose barely brushing yours. "I hate how much I want you," he murmured. “And I fucking love it at the same time."

The air between you was scorching, suffocating, dangerous.

"Tell me, little spy," he murmured. His lips ghosted over yours, his words dripping in dominance.

"Are you still going to pretend you don’t want this?"

And for the first time… You didn’t have an answer.

The silence between you was thick, suffocating, stretched to its very limit.

Jongho was still so fucking close, his breath ragged, his pupils blown wide, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Then—he snapped.

With a low, wrecked curse, he yanked you forward, his grip like iron around your wrist. Before you could react, he lifted you up effortlessly, manhandling you like you were nothing, your back colliding with the small desk in the room.

His body followed—towering, overwhelming, consuming. And then, he shoved you back.

One palm wrapped around your throat, the other sliding up your waist, fingers digging in, staking his claim as your spine hit the cold wall behind you.

Jongho’s breathing was wrecked, his expression nothing short of feral.

"You really fucking love pushing me, don’t you?" he muttered, his lips crashing onto yours before you had the chance to respond.

This kiss was pure fucking destruction.

Hot. Messy. Feral.

He wasn’t kissing you—he was taking you.

His tongue pushed in, deep and demanding, licking into your mouth like he had something to prove. Like he wanted to ruin the way you tasted.

He swallowed the gasp you let out when his fingers tightened around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin.

"Fuck," he groaned against your lips, his hips pressing flush against yours, his grip tightening on your waist.

His thumb brushed up, pressing against your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

And god—his eyes.

Dark. Wild. Possessive.

"I swear to fucking god," he muttered, his voice low, dripping in dominance, "if you don’t tell me you want this, I’ll stop right now."

You licked your lips, still dazed, still burning from the way he kissed you.

He waited. Just a breath. Just a second. Then—you smirked.

"Stop?" you echoed, your voice syrupy sweet, teasing, testing. “You won’t."

Jongho’s jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard his teeth grind.

His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging into your flesh, grounding himself.

"You really wanna play this damn game, don’t you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath scorching hot.

You tilted your head, batting your lashes. "I don’t know what you mean, General," you taunted. "I thought you were going to stop."

Something in him snapped at your words. "Fuck," he cursed, low and sharp and fucking wrecked.

Then, he kissed you again—harder, deeper, with even less patience.

His hand slid down from your throat, down your chest, gripping your waist, your thigh, spreading you open for him.

"Tell me you want this," he muttered, his lips dragging down your jaw, your throat, biting, sucking, leaving his mark.

His teeth scraped against your skin, his breath scorching hot against the bruises he left behind.

You inhaled sharply, every inch of you burning, every nerve alight with him.

Then, just to test him one last time, you murmured—so fucking soft, so fucking bratty—

"Make me."

Jongho groaned, deep and wrecked, his hand tightening on your waist like he was seconds away from breaking you completely.

"Oh, you have no fucking idea what you just asked for.”

His lips were relentless. They left no space untouched, trailing down from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your throat—biting, sucking, marking. He wasn’t just kissing you. He was ruining you.

The first sharp bite to your neck ripped a whine from your lips, your head tilting back as pleasure and pain mingled in a dizzying haze.

And just as you sucked in another breath— His hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight. Not yet. Just enough to remind you who the fuck was in control.

"Shut up," he muttered, his grip flexing, silencing the sound still stuck in your throat.

Your nails dug into the edge of the desk, knuckles white, body burning.

His other hand—hot, rough, possessive—slid up your waist, finding the torn fabric of your blouse.

Jongho exhaled sharply at the sight of your black lace bra, his breath coming out heavier, rougher, his restraint hanging by a fucking thread.

"God damn.." he muttered under his breath, his hands splaying over your ribs, thumbs brushing just under your breasts.

Then—his mouth was on you again.

His lips latched onto the swell of your chest, kissing, licking, then—Biting.

The first mark sent a jolt straight between your legs, a soft whimper slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Jongho groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your waist harder, his desperation slipping through the cracks.

His hat—that goddamn general’s cap he always wore like a crown—finally tumbled off, landing somewhere on the floor.

And god, that sight alone—his dark, tousled hair finally exposed, his head buried against your chest, his body pushing you further into the desk—It was almost too much.

And yet—you couldn’t resist pushing him further. You chuckled, low, teasing, amused by his sheer fucking desperation.

"You’re pathetic," you murmured, your voice dripping in mockery.

Jongho stilled and laughed.

Then, with zero warning, he sank his teeth into the curve of your breast. Not gentle. Not sweet. A punishment.

A small cry tore from your throat, but his hand tightened on your neck, keeping it trapped, keeping it his.

"You think this is funny, huh?" he muttered, his breath scorching against the bruises he left.

You grinned, breathless, wrecked, but still teasing.

"Yeah," you whispered, your lashes fluttering as you met his gaze.

Jongho exhaled sharply, his pupils blown wide, his lips swollen, damp with you.

"God, you just don’t fucking stop," he muttered, his hands tightening on your waist, holding you in place.

"Then maybe," he continued, his lips trailing up your chest, your throat, back to your mouth,

“I should shut you up myself."

You licked your lips, still tasting him, still feeling the way his hands had claimed every inch of you.

And yet—he still hadn’t ruined you. Not completely. So you did what you did best. You pushed him further.

"You keep talking about ruining me," you murmured, tilting your head, voice syrupy sweet, taunting.

Jongho’s fingers twitched on your waist, his jaw clenching.

You smirked. "When are you actually gonna do it?"

He exhaled sharply through his nose, his patience snapping like a thin thread. Then—his hand was on your throat again. Tighter. Unyielding. His grip forced your head back against the wall, your body completely at his mercy.

"You wanna be ruined, huh?" he muttered, his voice low, dripping in danger.

You barely had time to breathe before he pushed forward, pressing his lips to your ear.

"You wanna be destroyed, hm?" he whispered, his voice a promise.

Your breath hitched, your body betraying you before your mind could catch up.

Jongho felt it. He fucking felt it.

"Let's see.. I wanna make you beg," he muttered, his hand sliding lower, his grip on your throat loosening just enough to let you breathe.

His lips dragged down your jaw, back to your throat, biting, licking, marking you deeper.

"I wanna hear you scream my name," he continued, his words scorching hot against your skin.

You sucked in a breath, your nails digging into the edge of the desk as his hands traveled lower, claiming, consuming.

"I wanna make you cry, cry for my mercy" he whispered, his teeth grazing your pulse. “But you won't get any.”

A small sound—something between a moan and a gasp—slipped past your lips.

He groaned, wrecked at the sound of you.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"You really have no idea what you’ve done," he murmured, his gaze burning into yours.

"You really don’t fucking know how long I’ve waited for this."

His fingers dragged along your thigh, teasing, tormenting, pushing you closer to the edge without even touching you properly.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he whispered.

"You’re mine now."

His grip tightened on your jaw, his mouth hovering just above yours.

"And I’m gonna fucking destroy your pretty little pussy.”

He was looong gone.

The moment he yanked off his thick army jacket, revealing the sheer strength beneath—the broad chest, the cut muscles, the battle-worn scars beneath his black shirt—your breath caught in your throat.

And when he reached for your blouse, tearing it away to finally reveal the toned body that came with being a spy, his eyes darkened.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his gaze drinking you in, raw and hungry.

You should have been embarrassed. Should have felt exposed.

But instead? You liked it.

You liked the way his eyes devoured you whole. Liked the way his breath hitched as he took in every inch of you.

And god, his personality? That commanding, ruthless dominance?

It was everything you wanted. Everything you needed.

Maybe it was because of your career, the way you were trained to fight, to defy, to challenge the most dangerous of men.

Or maybe—you just liked men who knew how to fucking take.

Jongho’s fingers moved to your pants, unfastening them with zero hesitation. With one sharp tug, they were gone, pooling at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

And that’s when he saw them.

The scars.

Faint. Barely there. Memories of fights, of battles you survived.

Jongho stilled. Not in hesitation. Not in pity. In pure, raw admiration. Then—he lowered himself. Dropped to his knees. And he pressed his lips to the first scar. Then another. And another. Each one kissed, licked, marked.

Your breath shuddered, your head tilting back against the wall, your thighs trembling beneath his hands.

You wanted to touch him.

Wanted to tangle your fingers in his thick, black hair, yank him closer, make him stay there forever. But you couldn’t. Your hands were still tied.

Jongho exhaled sharply against your skin, his hands tightening on your thighs.

"You’re fucking perfect," he muttered, his lips brushing over the inside of your leg, his voice deep, reverent, utterly wrecked.

Then—he lifted his head. And that look?

That ravenous, all-consuming, predatory stare?

It sent a violent shudder through your entire body.

Jongho didn't even bother taking off his gloves.

His breath was ragged, heavy, dripping in hunger as he pushed himself back up, towering over you again.

His gloved fingers—rough, calloused, strong—trailed from your breasts, grazing over your tight, sensitive skin, dragging lower, lower—

Until he reached the soaked fabric of your panties, barely covering what was his.

He exhaled sharply, his hot breath hitting your face as his lips brushed over yours, teasing, taunting.

"You’re dripping," he murmured, his voice a low, filthy rasp.

His fingers pressed against you, teasing the soaked material, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your thighs tremble.

You whined, hips twitching.

"Mhm, you want it," he muttered, his tone dark, knowing, dripping in dominance.

He didn’t ask. He knew.

You glared at him, refusing to answer, refusing to give him what he wanted. So, he took it.

With one sharp, impatient tug, your panties were gone—ripped off like they were nothing.

And then—his fingers were on you. Bare, exposed, nowhere to hide.

A choked moan escaped your lips the second his fingers slid through your slick folds, gathering everything you were giving him.

Jongho let out a low, pleased sound, his jaw tightening.

"You’re fucking soaked," he muttered, almost to himself, almost like he was losing control just from feeling how wrecked you already were.

And then—he pushed in.

One finger, thick, gloved, sliding into your cunt with ease, filling you up in ways that made your breath hitch.

You clenched around him instinctively, a sharp moan escaping before you could stop it.

Jongho cursed under his breath.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, his forehead pressing against yours as he shoved in another finger, stretching you open, preparing you.

He didn’t ease you in. Didn’t tease. Didn’t wait. He destroyed. His fingers pounded into you, rough, deep, deliberate. Thrusting. Stretching. Curling just right.

Every drag, every push, every pump had your legs trembling, your breath hitching, your body shaking.

You moaned again, louder, a desperate sound that only spurred him on.

"That’s it," he muttered, his lips grazing your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper.

"Let me hear you."

His free hand gripped your waist, holding you still as you writhed under his touch, helpless, wrecked, desperate for more.

He thrust his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over and over until—

A strangled moan tore from your throat, your body clenching, tightening, shattering.

Jongho groaned, watching as you came undone around his fingers.

"Good fucking girl," he murmured, his lips trailing down your jaw, over your pulse, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.

And then—he yanked his fingers out, his gloved hand covered in your slick.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he brought them to your lips.

"Open."

Your breath hitched. But you did.

And the second your tongue met the taste of yourself on his fingers, Jongho groaned—deep, guttural, wrecked.

"Fuck," he muttered, his jaw clenching.

Then—his hands were on his belt. Unbuckling. Unzipping. Freeing himself.

"You took my fingers so fucking well," he murmured, his voice a promise, dark and deadly and drenched in filth.

"Now—"

He grabbed your hips, dragging you to the very edge of the desk, lining himself up against your still-twitching entrance.

"Let’s see how well you take my cock."

Jongho didn't waste a second. His hands went to his belt—quick, precise, impatient.

The metal clinked as he unfastened it, and then—his pants dropped, pooling at his ankles, leaving him in nothing but his tight black briefs.

Your breath hitched.You could already see it.

The outline. The size. The sheer thickness. And then—his briefs went next. Fuck. He was big. Thick, long, heavy, the tip leaking with proof of just how much he fucking wanted you. And the look on his face? Ravenous. Starved. Like he was going to eat you alive.

Then—his teeth clenched around his gloves.

One by one, he yanked them off with nothing but his fucking mouth, his sharp canines digging into the fabric, his jaw tightening.

The sight? Sinful. Dangerous. Absolutely lethal. And the second they were off—he grabbed you. Spread your thighs wide open, lined himself up, and—

Slid right the fuck in.

One, brutal, devastating thrust. Every inch. Every single inch, buried deep inside you.

Your back arched off the desk, a broken moan ripping from your lips as he filled you completely, stretching you wide, making you take him.

A deep, low, animalistic sound escaped his chest, his hands gripping your waist so tightly it was borderline bruising.

"Tight as fuck," he hissed, his jaw clenching as he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressing against the very deepest part of you.

You clenched around him—hard. Jongho cursed under his breath. And then, when his gaze flickered to your face—

When he saw the way your lashes fluttered, the way your lips trembled, the way your eyes glazed over with unshed tears from the sheer stretch of him—

His expression darkened. And his cock fucking twitched inside you.

"Look at you," he muttered, his voice husky, sinful, absolutely wrecked.

"You gonna cry for me, sweetheart?"

His thumb wiped away a stray tear that slipped down your cheek.

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips grazing yours, his fingers gripping your thighs.

"You will."

Then—he moved. And ruined you. Hard. Deep. Merciless. His thrusts were brutal. Animalistic. Completely unhinged.

Your body fucking bounced with every snap of his hips, every shove, every relentless drive of his cock inside you.

"Taking it so fucking well," he muttered, his jaw clenched, his nails digging into your skin.

Deep. So deep. So goddamn good.

Your moans turned to whimpers, your whimpers turned to broken cries.

His fingers tightened on your waist, his thrusts turning sharp, rough, pure devastation.

"That’s it," he muttered, his voice a low, dark rasp.

"Fucking take it."

And you did. Every inch. Every thrust. Every ounce of filthy, reckless, dominating pleasure he gave you. You loved it. Fucking loved it.

And Jongho?

He was going to make sure you never forgot it.

Jongho’s grip on your waist tightened—bruising, possessive, unrelenting.

His pace grew harder. Deeper. More powerful.

Each thrust sent you reeling, your body rocking with the sheer force of him, the desk beneath you creaking under the weight of it all.

Then—his hand slid to your back. A sharp tug. A forceful pull. He dragged you closer, forcing you to take him even deeper. A wrecked cry left your lips. You cursed. You whined. You moaned.

Low, deep, almost feral—his voice drenched in raw satisfaction.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath warm against your ear.

"Every inch of me inside you, just how I’ve fucking wanted—"

His head fell forward, a growl vibrating in his chest. He was close.

And then—his next words sent a full-body shudder down your spine.

"Gonna fill you up, sweetheart," he muttered, his voice hoarse, his thrusts turning erratic, deeper, desperate.

"Gonna fuckin’ ruin you."

And then—he did.

He buried himself deep, filling you up, holding you there, making you take everything he gave you.

You gasped, your body clenching around him, your mind spinning, your breath hitched—

But Jongho wasn’t done. Not even close.

A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers brushed up your spine—slow, teasing, dangerous.

Then, in one swift, powerful motion—he flipped you over.

You barely had time to gasp before he dragged you to the edge of the desk, forcing your chest against the cold wood.

And then—his hand wrapped around your face. A firm push.

Your cheek met the surface, your breath hitching as he leaned over you, his weight pressing into your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

"Not done with you," he murmured, his tone dangerously low.

"Not even fucking close."

Then— a yank.

His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to make your eyes meet his. And his gaze? Dark. Feral. Completely wrecked.

"Look at me," he muttered, his grip tightening, his breath ragged.

"Watch me while I fucking destroy you."

And then—he did exactly that.

Jongho’s grip on your hair tightened, forcing your gaze onto his. His hips snapped forward—ruthless, punishing, relentless. Harder. Deeper. Unyielding.

Every thrust was a claim, a vow, a promise to ruin you beyond repair.

The desk beneath you creaked, your body jolting with every devastating movement.

"You feel that?" he rasped, his voice dripping with dominance, his tone laced with pure, unfiltered possession.

"Feel how deep I am? How I’m making you take it?"

Your breath hitched, your body tightening, the coil in your stomach winding dangerously close to snapping.

Jongho noticed. Of course he did. He smirked—dark, knowing. And then—he stopped. Pulled out.

Your body screamed in protest, the pleasure that had built up to a near-breaking point now cruelly ripped away.

A strangled noise left your lips. "You—"

"You think you get to come?" Jongho cut you off, his hand gripping your hip, forcing you still beneath him.

"You think I’ll let you have it that easily?"

Then—he was inside you again. Filling you up in a single, brutal thrust, dragging you back to the edge— And stopping. Again.

"Fuck—" you gasped, your hands clenching into fists behind your back, your legs trembling.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Not until I hear you," he murmured, his grip tightening, his voice deep, wicked.

"You want to come, sweetheart?" His breath ghosted over your ear, his hips rolling into you with slow, deliberate torture.

"Then say my fucking name."

You swallowed hard, your pride fighting against the sheer desperation flooding your body.

You were so close, so ruined, so wrecked—

But you refused to give in. So he did it again. And again. Brought you to the peak—then ripped it away. Over. And over. And over. Until—

"Jongho!"

It tore from your throat, raw and desperate, a curse, a plea, a surrender all in one.

Only then did he give it to you.

Only then did he let you fall.

And when you did?

You shattered.

The pleasure crashed over you in violent waves, your body tightening, clenching, convulsing around him as he groaned through clenched teeth.

"That’s it," he murmured, his pace turning wild, ruthless.

"Take it. Fucking take it.”

And then—he followed.

Burying himself deep one more time, his grip bruising, his body wrecked as he spilled inside you—

Filling you. Claiming you. Destroying you.

And when the tremors faded, when your breath finally returned, when your body lay limp against the desk, utterly spent—

Jongho? He wasn’t finished.

Not even close.

His fingers slid to your chin, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze.

And his next words? A promise.

"You think I’m done with ruining you?"

His lips brushed yours, his voice dark, wrecked, hungry.

"You don’t even know the half of it.”

Jongho didn’t stop.

Didn’t let you breathe. Didn’t let you think.

Your body was still trembling, still wrecked from the last orgasm, but he wasn’t done with you.

His fingers pushed deep—so deep you nearly screamed.

"You feel that?" His voice was dark, rough, dripping with possession.

"You’re taking everything I give you, and I haven’t even ruined you completely yet."

His other hand grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to see the hunger in his gaze.

Then—he shoved his fingers between your lips.

"Suck."

It wasn’t a request.

Your tongue flicked over them, hot, wet, sinful— and Jongho groaned, low and wrecked.

"That’s a good girl," he muttered, his fingers dragging over your tongue before pulling free with a wet pop.

"Now, let’s see how loud I can make you scream."

And then—he was inside you again. Hard. Deep. Devastating.

Your back arched, a moan breaking from your lips, but Jongho wasn’t satisfied with that. His fingers found your clit, pressing, rubbing, teasing— You jolted. Cursed.

"Too much?" he mocked, his pace turning brutal, his grip on your waist tightening.

"Too bad."

His thrusts were merciless, unrelenting, driving you higher, harder— Until the pleasure became unbearable.

Your body convulsed, tightening, clenching, shaking— And Jongho felt it.

"Give it to me," he ordered, his voice pure command, pure dominance, pure destruction. You finally shattered.

Your scream broke through the room, your body wrecked, trembling, convulsing around him—Jongho groaned, his own restraint snapping, his grip on you bruising, unyielding—

And then he followed.

Filling you to the brim this time, all over again, cum dripping from your cunt on the desk.

And when it was over—when you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him—

Jongho leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

Jongho didn’t move for a long moment, his breath still ragged, his body still pressed against yours, the heat between you still unbearable.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips ghosting over your ear, his voice low, wrecked, commanding.

"I’ll untie you," he murmured, fingers dragging down your spine, teasing, taunting, possessive.

"But only if you swear yourself to me. To my side."

You inhaled sharply. You knew what he meant. He wasn’t just asking for loyalty—he was demanding it.

"Join me," he continued, his fingers tightening around your wrists, his touch still firm, still controlling. "Or I keep you here. Forever.”

The threat—or promise—sent a dangerous thrill down your spine. A smirk tugged at your lips despite the exhaustion in your limbs, the soreness in your body, the undeniable fact that he had completely, utterly wrecked you.

You tilted your head slightly, voice teasing, sultry, defiant.

"You know," you mused, deliberately slow, deliberately provoking,

"I was gonna retire from being a spy for them anyway."

Jongho stilled.

You grinned, eyes flashing as you added, "Guess you're stuck with me, General.”

Jongho still had that dark, commanding presence as he loomed over you, his grip firm, his body still radiating heat and power. His fingers traced over the marks he’d left on your skin, a silent reminder of what he’d just done to you.

But you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

Even wrecked, trembling, and utterly ruined, you still had your pride.

You smirked, tilting your head up slightly, feigning innocence.

"Didn’t you get enough of me, darling?" you teased, your voice dripping with mock sweetness, your eyes flashing with mischief despite the raw pleasure still lingering in your body.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, his voice a sinful whisper.

"Didn’t I ruin your pussy enough?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his tone dark and taunting.

"You’re teasing me because you want more, aren’t you?"

His fingers trailed down your spine, sending a shiver through your exhausted body, his presence still overwhelming, still utterly in control.

Your smirk didn’t waver. His didn’t either.

“You're mine. Utterly, completely, mine.”

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou

[siriusblackslefttoenail]

Okay… so this is my first fic and idk how to feel about it. I just kept writing so feedback is welcome, just don't hate on me lol. I tried really hard but I didn't completely proofread it so I'm so sorry if it's messed up in some spots. Also, my first time writing smut so idk I'm sorry if it's horrible. I'm also not super experienced with Tumblr so I don't have fancy dividers or anything :( If someone actually likes what I write I'll figure it out and make it look pretty!!

WC: 7,290

Warnings: SMUT, fast burn there's like no wait time tbh, kinda mentions family death (very briefly), shitty parents mentioned, female character, Bluna mentioned as well as Draco x Pansy, head (female receives), if I forgot any please tell me!!

Summary: Mattheo Riddle meets a girl who captivates him the moment he sees her. She doesn't recognize him until he tells her who he is. The tension breaks and they finally get together!

MUSE

Mattheo knew he was fucked from the moment he knew who and what his father was. Well, he was even more fucked when he had an older brother who was his dad’s right-hand man.

Don’t think that Tom and Uncle Lucius left Mattheo alone because of his lack of respect towards his father. It honestly made his life harder. Always had to sneak out for a smoke instead of just walking through the front door.

Currently, Mattheo is sneaking out through his window from the third floor of Malfoy Manor. He hasn’t yet decided if he wants to go to the roof or leave the grounds completely. The roof would be a safer bet.

Hoisting himself up to the roof he silently thanks his younger self for deciding to join quidditch. He wouldn’t have been able to make it anywhere if he didn’t have muscles.

Finally finding his regular spot he sits and lays his legs out. Takes the pack of cigarettes he’s got from his pocket and lights one with the lighter Theo gave him for his birthday a year ago.

He knew the lighter would soon run out of fuel and he’d need to get a new one. Being in 6th year Mattheo isn’t able to use his wand to light the cigarette so he resorts to the muggle lighters. He has to find a way to get muggle cash though.

While Mattheo’s smoking he hears a door slam. That can’t be good, usually, he’s the one slamming doors. He scoots to the edge of the roof and sees Tom standing on the front lawn. He’s probably looking for Mattheo.

While Mattheo quickly moves back to his spot he hears a girl's voice.

“Dad, I’ll be fine. As I said I know a boy here. He won’t do anything, just figure out your business deal and we can leave.”

Moving back to his previous spot to peer over the roof he sees you. Some girl getting out of a car he doesn’t know the brand of, in this black leather skirt and black long-sleeve top. The top of your boobs spill over lightly showing how tight the shirt is.

Fucking hell, who the fuck is this? Mattheo is questioning whether he should get down or not, that is until he sees Tom walk over to you and shake your hand.

“Tom, it’s good to see you again.” You’re talking to his brother, and you know him? Why doesn’t Mattheo know you? Are you in the same year as Tom?

“It’s good to see you too,” Tom responds and Mattheo watches as the two of you walk inside with your father.

****

Walking into Malfoy Manor I try to remember what Pansy told me about it. It’s old, practically prehistoric as Pansy said. Looking over to my right I see Tom, the same boy who helped me with Advanced Potions last year.

“Thanks for keeping me company while my dad works things out with Mr Malfoy.” I smile at him and he looks at me with the same stoic expression as always. Better than a grimace or a frown I suppose.

Both Tom and I hear footsteps coming down the staircase that’s to our left and turn to see a handsomely built curly-haired boy walk down in black Converse and an all-black outfit.

“That’s my younger brother, Mattheo,” Tom explains, sensing my confusion. Younger brother? How much younger? He’s fucking hot.

“Hi, I’m y/n” I introduce myself as he walks closer. He doesn’t look like Tom at all. Tom is very tall and skinny meanwhile Mattheo is thick and more short, he actually has muscle on him.

“Y/n that’s a pretty name.” He responds shaking my outstretched hand. I smile and give him a small thanks.

“I didn’t know you had a brother Tom.”

“I thought everyone did.” Tom just shrugs and keeps walking to the living room. We follow behind him and sit down on a big black leather couch that’s settled in front of a marble fireplace.

“I’m going into my sixth year,” Mattheo tells me and I smile.

“Why don’t I know you? I’m going into sixth too!”

“How do you know Tom then?”

“Oh, he helped me in Advanced Potions last year.”

“You were in 6th year advanced potions?” While he asks me with wide eyes I just nod and give Tom a smile. He’s not looking at me he’s looking straight at Mattheo. I’m guessing from the tension between them, that they’re not close.

“I play quidditch, I’m on the Slytherin team, I play as a beater.”

“Ah! You’re friends with Draco!” I finally recognize him. He just nods and looks away from me.

“I was partnered with Draco last year in Transfiguration. As well as Nott in Defense Against The Dark Arts!” I don’t know how I never noticed how handsome he was until I was right in front of him.

“Oh yeah, Theo’s my best friend.” Mattheo smiles and scratches his neck.

“Yes, he talked about you a lot. I just didn’t know you were related to Tom or what you looked like exactly. That’s why I didn’t recognize you.” All Mattheo does is nod and I hear Tom chuckle.

“Mattheo is too busy listening to his music and drawing in that silly book of his to even lift his head. I don’t blame you for not knowing who he was, he’s hardly there.” I look at Tom and then back at Mattheo who looks upset.

“What music do you listen to?” I ask moving closer to Mattheo. He releases a wide smile and we start talking about The Smiths and Queen, as well as The Cure. He seems sweet.

“I can’t believe I met a girl who listens to the same music as me.” Mattheo laughs incredulously.

I laugh with him and we notice how Tom got up and left the room. I look at Mattheo and he just shrugs.

“He’s moody. Maybe he’s jealous you’re paying more attention to me.” Mattheo says smirking at me.

“Why would he be jealous? What’s special about me?” I ask, confused

“Because you’re the only girl who talks to him. Well, that and you’re also attractive so it hurts his ego more.” Mattheo chuckles when he’s done talking and I look at him like he’s insane.

“Tom riddle thinking I’m attractive? What has the world come to?” I seriously ask but Mattheo laughs

“Well, it’s very rare to see a girl with Tom so he’ll try to flirt with you but you wouldn’t even know because he’s so bad at it. It must've stung him when you preferred his younger brother over him.” Mattheo is still laughing and I give an awkward chuckle.

“Well, there’s always other people out there for him. Just not me.” I say chuckling along with Mattheo

“Oh, you’re not? Who are you for, y/n?” Mattheo moves his face closer to mine laughing, I get nervous and look away.

“Well, I’m not sure yet but I know it’s not him.”

“Why not Tom?”

“He’s too... uptight and studious. I’m more laid back and I care about my grades but not as much as him. He also doesn’t like muggle things and I plan on living in the muggle world when I graduate.”

“You do? Why?”

“I’m not sure, I think they have brilliant ideas and inventions and I believe the muggle world has more to offer than the wizarding world.”

“I guess you’re right, where in the muggle world would you live?”

“Hmm, probably a big city like New York or Chicago.”

“Oh so in America?”

“Yes, America. I want to go around the States, they have so many beautiful things there.” Mattheo just nods and looks at the dancing fire in the dug-out marble fireplace.

“Y/n let’s go, I’ve finished.” I hear my dad behind me and both Mattheo and I turn to see him.

“Okay, Dad,” I say, rising from the couch and going to stand next to him.

“Nice to meet you, Tom.” My father says to Mattheo.

“Oh no, Dad that’s his younger brother Mattheo.” I laugh slightly

“Oh. Well, tell your brother it was nice meeting him.”

“Yes sir,” Mattheo responds getting up from the couch and walking to the front door to lead us out.

“Thanks, Mattheo, I’ll see you at school,” I say touching his arm lightly before walking out of the house. I swear I see his face blush and I feel heat pool in my stomach. Definitely need to get closer to him.

****

Boarding the train from summer break is always the worst. The station is always too stuffy and cramped. Then you get on the train and it’s even hotter. I’m waving my hand in front of my face in my compartment when the door opens and reveals Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson, my closest friends.

“It’s so hot in this god-forsaken train. You’d think with magic you could cool down a train.” Pansy complains sitting down and wiping her hairline.

I laugh and try to open the train window. Thank god this compartment has a working window. Both Daphne and I sigh as the window opens.

“Oh thank Merlin!” Daphne says moving closer to the window. We always get closer to the front of the train so we don’t have to see students and their families. It’s always too much noise.

The cabin door opening surprises us all.

“Hey, ladies!” Theodore Nott says placing himself right next to my thigh.

“Oh no no no. No way, it’s too hot in the train for the six of you to sit in here with us!” Pansy says pulling Theo up from his spot and pushing him back towards the door.

Draco laughs and puts Theo back next to me and sits next to Pansy.

“You’ll be alright love,” Draco smirks and places his arm around Pansy. She just groans and rolls her eyes knowing it’s no use trying to tell them to leave. I look back towards the door and Blaise has taken his spot next to Daphne and the wall.

Mattheo stands awkwardly with Tom, both of them looking at me. Lorenzo finds the spot next to Theo and both Tom and Mattheo roll their eyes.

They have to sit next to each other and not even by the window. All of our legs rub against each other as the two of them squeeze in.

“Holy shit, can you move over?” Mattheo asks Enzo and Theo.

“Not really no,” Lorenzo responds laughing. Mattheo groans and sits in between Daphne and Pansy.

“Oh!” Daphne says as Mattheo slightly shoves her into Blaise.

“Sorry.” He mumbles and looks out the window.

“So, how were everyone’s summers?” I ask lightly trying to diffuse the tension in the small compartment.

Blaise and Theo start to speak at the same time and eventually agree Theo can speak first.

“Mine was surprisingly very exciting, I went back to Italy by myself to visit my mother's side of the family for the first time since she passed, and my dad was gone almost the whole summer so I was able to do whatever I wanted without being berated!” I could tell in Theo’s voice he was hurting, he was being sarcastic to cover up his sadness about being alone and his mother passing.

When I was partnered with him last year he had opened up a bit and we would talk. I told him about my dad and he told me about his, he also told me about how his mother passed and it truly was a horrible death. I can’t even imagine how 10-year-old Theo coped with that.

Blaise speaks up next and explains how he had to go to his mom’s wedding for his 4th stepfather. He seems pretty over the whole stepdad thing, I mean if I had 4 I would be too. Blaise tells us how he got to go on a muggle cruise in the Caribbean. They stopped in the Bahamas and Cuba. He at least seemed very pleased with the trip his stepfather provided.

“That sounds nice Blaise,” I say smiling, my summer was pretty shitty but I don’t think anyone will ask if everyone says theirs first.

“How about yours?” Theo asks, everyone turning to me.

“Oh-ha it was good. Nothing special.” I try really hard not to sound like I’m lying but I think they all see through it.

“No seriously y/n, how was your summer?” Pansy asks her leg nudging mine lightly.

“I don’t wanna talk about it Pans.”

“Oh okay, no problem.” I look away when she says this so I don’t have to make eye contact with any of them. I don’t want to talk about the fight I had with my dad or the situationship I had with my neighbor.

I look out the window for the beginning of the train ride. I look around the cabin and everyone is either entertaining themselves or talking with someone. Mattheo is drawing with headphones on.

I lift my foot and nudge his shin. He looks up and I nod my head toward the cabin door, hinting at him for us to go somewhere else. He nods at me and puts his headphones away. I nudge his shin again and hint at him to bring the headphones.

“I’m going to the bathroom; I’ll be back,” I say, standing up and slightly running my hand over Mattheo’s shoulder on my way out. I walk away from the cabin door to be out of sight. I watch as Mattheo gets up without saying anything, sketchbook and headphones in hand.

“What’s up?” He asks following me as I move through the aisle.

“I wanted to be with you one on one, you have a problem with that Riddle?”

“No ma’am,” I smirk when he says that, he’s so sassy. I find an empty compartment (surprisingly) and sit down on the bench to the left of the door, Mattheo sits across from me on the other.

“What were you listening to?” I ask laying my legs out on the bench, sitting sideways.

“Just a mix of mine.”

“I’m asking what song, Riddle,” I smirk at him as he adjusts his position, putting his sketchbook beside him.

“Oh, Bigmouth Strikes Again by The Smiths.” I nod at him and reach to grab his Walkman and headphones.

He lets go of them and lets me put the headphones on, I hit the play button and hear the music through the speakers. The volume is at the highest it could be set to.

“Why do you keep the volume so high?” I ask taking the Walkman off and giving it back to him.

“I don’t know, don’t like hearing anything else. I guess.” He shrugs and puts the Walkman beside him as well. I nod and look at his Converse, there are black drawings on the soles of them.

“What do you draw?” I ask looking back up at him, nodding to his shoes and the sketchbook.

“Not much, just people and landscapes, sometimes random objects.” He shrugs again and looks away from me to his shoes. I can’t tell if it’s out of embarrassment or something else.

“Can I see?”

“What?”

“Could I see your drawings?” I ask again

“Uh sure, I guess, if you want.” He grabs his sketchbook and hands it to me. I open a random page and rest the book on my lap. The page I opened has a bird on it, a raven or maybe a crow. I skip to the next page and see a detailed snake wrapped around an old-looking book. He’s very talented.

“You’re good at drawing.” I look up at him and see the apples of his cheeks turn rosy.

“Thanks.”

“I gotta give credit where it’s due.” I chuckle and move to another page. This one has a girl on it, I haven’t seen her before but I guess it could be anyone since it’s a side profile.

“Do you draw anyone specific?”

“Not really, it’s usually just people I think of in my head. I’ve drawn Blaise and Theo before though.”

“Could you draw me?”

“What?” He stutters in awe

“I asked if you could draw me, if not I get it. I’m not much of a muse but your drawings are beautiful and I’d like to see how you view me. I’ve always wanted to be good at drawing.” I smile at him and hand his book back.

“Um, I’d love to draw you. I could teach you some small things too if you’d like.” I see him get nervous slightly and it makes me laugh lightly.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me Mattheo, I’m not going to bite unless you ask me to.” I joke and give him a playful wink before looking out at the mountains through the window.

“I’m not nervous!” He defends himself quickly and clears his throat. I just give a small laugh and get up to sit next to him.

“I’m not gonna judge you Mattheo.” I move his Walkman and sketchbook before sitting down.

“I know, I never thought you would.”

“I like you. You’re cute.”

“What?”

“You’re sweet, I think you’re cool.” I worded it differently this time realizing that it sounded like I fancied him.

“Oh.” He almost seems disappointed when I clarify myself. I look him in the eyes and this is the closest we’ve been since the beginning of summer. He’s pretty to look at.

He has a scar running across the bridge of his nose and a scar through his eyebrow. I wonder if they have something to do with his dad. I don’t ask because we’re not that close yet and if he wants to tell me he will. I find his scars attractive.

“I like your scars,” I say running my finger over the one on his nose.

“Really?”

“Yeah, they make you look badass.” We both laugh and I trace the other small scars with my finger. There’s one on his cheek and one by his eye. I hope they don’t have anything to do with his dad.

“You’re not gonna ask where I got them?”

“No, because if you want to tell me you will. I won’t push.” He just smiles at me and his big brown eyes almost shine as he looks at me. Our faces are so close his nose is almost touching mine. I clear my throat and move back towards the window.

“We should probably head back.” I hear him say and grab his things.

“Yeah.” I get up and follow him through the train to get back to the compartment. When we get there we see Pansy asleep on Draco’s shoulder and Daphne talking with Theo and Enzo. Blaise and Tom are doing their thing. They all look up beside Pansy when we walk in.

“Where were you guys?” Theo asks moving towards Tom to give me my spot back.

“We took a walk,” I respond, sitting down and smiling at Enzo and Theo.

“Oh okay. Tom told us you listen to the same music as Mattheo.” Draco tells me

“I do, we talked about it when I saw him and Tom over the summer.”

“When were you over during the summer?” Draco asks since they also live in Malfoy Manor.

“It was at the beginning of the summer, my dad had a business deal with your dad so I accompanied him.”

“Oh, I must’ve been with Pansy.” As Draco says that Mattheo confirms and says Draco was with Pansy that day.

“Well, that’s a good thing that someone likes the same things as mattheo,” Enzo says smiling at me

“Whys that?” Mattheo lets out, nudging Enzo with his Converse.

“You get lonely sometimes when we hang out with other people. Like Blaise and Luna, Draco and Pansy.” Enzo responds

“So you’re saying a girlfriend,” I ask Enzo

“Kind of? But you don’t have to date for you guys to be friends. It’s just having someone that’s not us, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” I respond smiling at Mattheo. He doesn't meet my gaze.

“We’ll be at Hogwarts soon,” Blaise says looking out the window. I nod and grab my bag from under the seat to put it in my lap.

****

Sitting in the great hall was always lonely because I’m a Ravenclaw and many Ravenclaws don’t like me because of my father’s reputation. I usually sit by myself since other house students can’t sit with each other. It’s a stupid rule, they want us to connect but we can’t sit together? Make it make sense.

I look up from my spot and look for Daphne and Pansy at their table but instead of seeing them, I see Mattheo looking at me. I give a small wave and a smile. He smiles back and it's the first time I've seen him smile. Seeing it now makes me want to see it all the time, I want him to smile constantly especially if it's at me.

I've always thought most Slytherin Quidditch players were attractive. I guess I never noticed Mattheo’s name and more of him physically. He was always attractive I just didn't know who he was directly other than the second Slytherin Quidditch beater.

I rest my head on my palm and wait for Dumbledore to stop talking and start the feast. The first year sorting always takes about half an hour so we sit here for a while before we even get to eat.

It's really annoying, I just want to eat my favorite meal; pasta with vodka sauce, meatballs, and garlic bread.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and it’s a little girl.

“Hello,” I say giving her a confused smile.

“Do you mind if I sit with you? I get it if you don't want a first-year sitting next to you.” This little 11-year-old girl is asking to sit with me and expects me to say no, she's the sweetest-looking kid ever.

“Of course, you can sit next to me,” I reply, and her face lights up and she sits to my left. “I'm y/n,” I say smiling

“I'm Charlotte.” She gives me a bright smile as Dumbledore finishes his speech and the food appears on the tables. She's so cute.

I scoop myself some pasta and meatballs and put it on my plate, offering some to Charlotte. She agrees and tells me it's her favorite.

“It's my favorite too!” I say grabbing two pieces of garlic bread

“Can I have garlic bread- Thank you!” She asks right as I give her the second piece I picked up.

We eat and chat and she tells me about her younger brothers and how she's a half-blood. I nod along and talk when I should.

While talking about the school and classes, I offer to help her around the castle the first couple of days since it's such a big school.

After dinner, we get up and I show her to the Ravenclaw common room, telling her the classrooms and bathrooms as we pass them. I tell her you have to solve a riddle to open the door to the common room and she seemed nervous about it.

That was until we got to the door and she got the riddle before I did. She laughed at me and I laughed back telling her how smart she is.

Look, I know she's 11 and she's almost a teenager but I don't think treating someone so young like they're already grown up is right. I don't want her childhood to end because people expect so much from her.

I grew up in a household where if you didn't understand what was going on it wasn't going to be baby-fied. You had to figure it out on your own. Now, I don't know how to ask for help or admit that I'm not doing well to other people.

So if I can help this one girl know that it's okay to be childish sometimes I'll be happy. As long as she knows school isn't about just learning, it's about finding out who you are and the people who deserve to be around you. It took me too long to figure that out.

I show Charlotte the dorms and we find hers so I can drop her off and let her unpack, I tell her I'll see her in the common room in the morning before breakfast.

Walking out of the common room I go all the way down to the dungeons, it's a regular thing that Pansy, Daphne, and I celebrate the new school year with each other. They're probably bringing their boyfriends so I guess I could ask mattheo if he isn't going already.

I say the password to the Slytherin common room and walk up to the girl's dormitories. Finding Pansy and Daphne’s I knock and wait for one of them to open the door. Daphne opens it and gives me a hug.

“How was dinner?” she asks me while going back to sit on her bed.

“It was good, I made friends with this little first year in Ravenclaw.”

“Awe is she cute?”

“She is actually. She seems very smart.”

“Wow, shocker,” Pansy says laughing while coming out of the bathroom with wet hair.

“We've been over this Pans, being in Ravenclaw doesn't automatically make you smart.” I roll my eyes and sit on Daphne’s bed.

Pansy just laughs and takes black nail polish out of her bedside table.

“Is Draco and Theo coming to the hangout tonight?” I ask leaning on Daphne’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you gonna ask Riddle to come?” Pansy asks wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“I might, he's cute.”

“And super strong!” Daphne says giggling

“He is strong but he's cuter, drawing and listening to music is so sweet. Boys don't do that anymore.” I say smiling at the ceiling thinking about Mattheo.

“Well you should probably go and tell him now if you want him to come.” Pansy says now applying the nail polish to her fingers and toes. I get up and nod.

“Alright, I'll be back.”

Leaving their dorm and walking to the boys’ dorms feels weird. I never go to boys’ dorms. I've never hooked up with any of the boys at Hogwarts so I don't go to the boys’ side ever.

I look at all the metal nameplates on the front of the wooden doors to each dormitory trying to find Riddle.

“You lost pretty girl?” I hear someone ask behind me. I turn quickly and see Marcus Flint.

“Not particularly, thanks, Flint,” I say turning forwards and returning to look for Mattheo’s name.

I finally find it and knock on the door. I hear shuffling behind the wood and then a muffled “fuck”.

Mattheo opens the door slightly peeking his head out and sees me.

“Oh, y/n, do you need something?”

“I just had a question but if you're busy I could come back.” I say pointing back to where I came from.

“No no, I'm not busy. Give me two seconds I have to put pants on.” I nod and he closes the door. Wait, put pants on? Was he pantless while he opened the door? I feel my face flush and I just look at my shoes until I hear the door open again.

I look up and mattheo is in grey sweatpants and shirtless. My mouth salivates just looking at him, holy shit.

“Alright, sorry about that. Come in.” he opens the door wider and kicks something into the closet beside the door.

“Don't be sorry.” I reply looking around his room. He has a triangular Slytherin flag above his bed and a The Smiths poster next to his desk. I smile as I look at it and then turn towards him and the door. The whole wall is covered in sketches that must be from an old sketchbook of his.

“Oh wow. I love this wall.” I say walking closer to it and looking at all the sketches.

“Thanks, they're old though, from last year and even before then.” I nod to his words and remember what I came here to ask him.

“Oh, right, I was wondering if you wanted to come to Pansy and Daphne’s dorm to hang out for the new school year with us, Draco, and Theo?” I feel my cheeks heat up as I ask him.

“Oh, like as your date?” he scratches his neck and I feel regret seep into my bones.

“Um, not necessarily! Just to hang out if you'd like to. I mean you could consider yourself my date or not it doesn't matter.” My face gets redder with every word I speak. I'm embarrassing myself.

“I would love to be your date for a hang out.” he chuckles and I smile at him

“Oh really? Thank god I was so scared you were gonna make fun of me or something.” I say laughing my anxieties off.

“No, I would never turn down a pretty girl's invite to hang out with her.” I blush as he says this and his smile broadens. I love his smile.

“I adore your smile,” I say slightly tilting my head at him.

“Oh, you do?” he asks, self-consciously.

“I do.” I smile

“Thank you.” his cheeks turn red as well as his neck. I rake my eyes across his body and notice the slight bulge in his pants. Fucking hell. He notices me staring and smirks.

“What's wrong y/l/n?” he taunts, moving closer to me. My face warms and I try not to look back down at his pants.

“Nothing’s wrong Riddle,” I respond, I can feel my thighs rubbing together.

“You sure? Looks like you're a bit… flustered.”

I let out a choked laugh and moved backward into his desk. I grip the edge of the table and make eye contact with him. His already dark eyes have deepened and I could've sworn lust was swirling through his pupils.

“Nope, I'm all good Riddle.” I say, standing up straighter. I'm not going to back out and cower that's not who I am.

“Alright, whatever you say y/l/n,” he responds chuckling, hands in mock surrender.

“Are you doing alright?” I ask back to see if I can give him the same effect.

“As good as new, thanks for asking,” he smirks

“You're sure?” I press

“I mean, I'm a bit warm but that's about it.” his smirk deepens now

“Warm how?”

“I'm warm as in overheating, darling.”

“Ahh, see I'm not hot and I'm in a jumper, you're shirtless, what's making you so warm Mattheo?”

“Well, I have a very sexy woman in front of me and she's not taking a hint so I'm getting a bit impatient.” my eyes widen and my cheeks flush even darker.

“What hint?” I ask

“The hint that I want to bend her over and fuck her right on the desk she's leaning on,” Mattheo says with such confidence that I feel my legs weaken.

“You what?” I whisper, completely stunned

“You need me to repeat myself? Or can I show you what I'm hinting at?”

“You can show me.” I look up at him as he stalks closer to me. His large hand grips my waist and I feel his body heat making me flush even warmer.

“You okay with this?” he asks before going any further. I nod and he shakes his head at me.

“Words darling, I need words.”

“Yes, I'm okay with this.” He smiles and lowers himself to his knees. My eyes widen and my legs unconsciously part for him. He continues to look up at me while he pulls my skirt down as well as my underwear.

While I step out of my skirt and underwear I watch him look down at my vagina as well as my arousal dripping down my thighs. His tongue wipes against his lips and he smiles up at me.

“Can I?” he asks

“Yes, please Mattheo.” I practically whine to him. He immediately moves his face in between my legs and licks a stripe on my folds. I lean my head back and whine out loud.

“Ohh gods Mattheo” I feel my legs buckle and his strong arm wraps around my waist to keep me up.

His tongue splits my folds and goes to my clit, while he smears my arousal around his fingers inch up my thigh, and pokes at my anticipating hole. I look down at him and he's already looking at me.

While he laps at my clit his pointer finger pushes through my hole and straight to as far as his finger could go. I moan and rock my hips against his face, needing the friction. He adds his middle finger and my head indistinctly rolls back against my shoulder.

I feel the knot in my stomach tighten and I know I'm close. I beg Mattheo to go faster and he complies. His fingers squelch while pushing in and out of me. This is the most pleasure I've ever felt, what will it feel like when he's in me?

I'm a whining mess until Mattheo pulls his face back and kisses my thighs.

“Noo, go back!!” I beg and try to push my hips back against his face.

“Patience sweet girl. I'll make you feel good I promise.” I whine and wiggle my hips to make his fingers move in me again.

“Please Mattheo!” I beg him and I feel my eyes well up with tears.

He looks up at me with a frown and stands, pulling his fingers out of me causing me to cry out. He kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. He grasps my waist and picks me up, setting me on his bed.

I look at him and he's untying his sweatpants. Oh, thank god. I tug at his arms and start to wrap them around me. After he's completely bare other than his boxers I lift my blouse up and drop it to the floor.

He moves closer to me and gives me a passionate kiss. While he distracts me he easily unclips my bra and takes it off my arms. Reaching down to put it on the floor he comes back up, hands resting on my breasts. His forefinger and thumb rubbing my nipples between them.

My head leans back while I groan. His mouth comes to my neck and leaves sloppy kisses against it. He starts to suck on my collar bone and I know it's going to leave a mark. To be honest I'm not that upset about that fact.

“Fuck Matt I need you,” I whine grabbing one of his hands off my breast and in between my thighs, trying to relieve the pain of my lust.

“Alright, princess I got you.” his boxers drop, and my hands immediately reach for his cock. While he kisses me again I rub my thumb over his tip to gather his pre cum to lube up his dick. He groans into my mouth and bucks into my hand.

“Fuck, can't take it.” he takes my hands off him and lays me back against his plush duvet. He grips my legs and rests them on each of his shoulders. I see him look around the room and I get confused.

“What are looking for?” I groan, wiggling my hips to his.

“A pillow.” he drops my legs softly and grabs one of his pillows from the top of his bed. He walks back over and puts it underneath my back.

“There.” he says picking my legs back up onto his shoulders and kisses my thighs. I whine again when his tip teases against my clit. I'm getting impatient.

“Mattheo please-” right as I say that he thrusts into me and I feel like I've been split in half. We both let out groans and he leans his head against my thigh.

“Fucking hell,” he moans, sucking onto my thigh

Meanwhile, I'm adjusting to the size of his dick inside of me. I'm panting and watching him suck and nibble on my thighs.

“Move, please” I beg, out of breath, he complies and slowly leaves me before thrusting back into me before I could even register he left me in the first place.

Mattheo sets a quick pace while watching my tits move up and down on my chest. He's mumbling to himself and biting into my thigh until he leans down and takes my left nipple into his mouth. While I'm groaning he takes his left hand and reaches between us to lightly tease my clit.

“Ohhh Mattheo I'm so close!” I whine gripping onto his hair that's in my face. He moves away from my chest and gives me a hasty and wet kiss against my lips.

“Wait baby, can you do that for me?” he asks taking his free hand and pressing down on my lower tummy. His cock bruising my cervix. The action makes me throw my head back and cry out.

“Shhh pretty girl I know I know” he eases upon my clit focusing on his pace and how much aggression he puts into each thrust.

“Can you wait for me, baby?” he asks again, and I nod breathlessly

“Y-es I can, I can,” I whine and reach for him and he picks his hand up from my abdomen and interlaces our hands together.

“Baby, I'm close, where do you want me to cum?” he asks slowing his pace a bit

“I don't care! Anywhere!” I'm so close and him slowing is leaving me on the edge.

“Sweetheart this is your decision.” he's also breathless as he speaks to me

“In me! In me please!” I beg with wide eyes, I feel warm tears run down my cheeks

“Okay, sweet girl.” he fastens his pace and I'm moaning so loudly I already know his dorm neighbors can hear me.

I'm so close, the knot in my stomach quickly coming undone and I squeeze his hand as I cum over his cock. My pussy clenched and it makes him lay his forehead on mine and shoot his load inside of me, painting my walls with a sticky white.

He stays inside of me as we both pant and catch our breath. He's lying on my chest and I can feel his cum dripping down and onto his pillow.

He lifts his head and smiles at me.

“Stay like this,” he demands quietly and pulls out of me, causing me to whine out and he presses a fast kiss on my lips before quickly walking to his desk and grabbing his sketchbook and pencil.

“What are you doing?” I ask sitting up

“No no! I said stay like this!” he pushed me bsck down lightly and sat beside me. He opens his sketchbook and quickly starts to draw.

“Are you drawing me?” I ask incredulously

“Mhm, you're my muse.” he responds without even looking up at me. I feel myself flush at his words and then I feel his cum dripping out and making me sticky and uncomfortable.

“Matty,” I whisper making him look up at me

“Can we clean up first? I feel sticky.”

“Oh shit yeah, I'm sorry.” he drops his sketchbook beside me and rushes to the bathroom connected to his dorm to get a warm washcloth to clean my legs up.

I whine softly at the touch, still sensitive. He shushes me quietly and kisses the bite marks he left on my thighs. They're already turning a dark shade of red.

He fixes himself up and then grabs my underwear and puts them back on me slowly. He walks to his closet and takes out a green Slytherin shirt and asks me to sit up so he can put it on me. I lift my arms and he lets it fall on me. He steps back and mumbles something to himself.

“Hm?” I ask laying back down

“What?” he asks

“What did you say to yourself just now?”

He flushes before saying,

“Oh, I said you looked beautiful in my shirt. You're perfect to be my muse.” I smile and open my arms for him to lie with me. He welcomes my embrace and kisses my neck softly.

“Well, I can pose for you now, if you'd like.”

“Yes,” he says with enthusiasm and moves back to his position from before

We sit there for about 15 minutes in a comfortable silence before he tells me he's finished. He flips the sketchbook for me to see and its probably the most beautiful drawing I've ever seen.

“That's how you see me?” I ask, in disbelief

“Yes, absolutely stunning.” I blush and give him a big kiss on the cheek

“Such a gentleman Mattheo Riddle.” I smile and lean back to lie down on his bed.

“What time do we need to go to Daphne and Pansy’s?” he asks putting his sketchbook away. I sit up quickly with a gasp.

“Oh my god!! I totally forgot!” I say getting up and rushing to put my skirt on.

“Hey hey, it's okay, it's only 10.” I look at him with wide eyes

“We need to go right now,” I say grabbing his hand.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” he asks grabbing my shirt and my bra. I roll my eyes and wave him off

“Why are you acting like I won't be back after the hangout? You don't want me here?” I joke with him but he takes it seriously, eyes going wide and stumbling over his words

“Of course not! I didn't know you'd want to come back!” I look at him and laugh.

“Why wouldn't I want to come back??” I ask in disbelief

He just shrugs and looks away. I pull his arm lightly and remind him we have to go. He nods and we quickly walk to their dorm. We knock on the door and Theo opens it.

“Well well well, look who decided to arrive!” he says opening the door more to show the rest of the group. Daphne looks at the hickey on my neck with wide eyes and gets up to inspect it.

“Umm Mr. Riddle care to explain yourself?” she asks, jokingly

“She's my muse.”

“Your muse?” Draco asks

“Yes my muse, she's the most perfect thing for me to draw.” he smiles holding me close to him while we walk into the dorm.

“I didn't know THE Mattheo riddle had feelings other than anger and boredom!” Pansy laughs at her own joke as well as the others. Mattheo just glares at them and I smile up at him.

“Well, don't let us ruin your fun night! Go have fun, wear protection though!” pansy says getting up and pushing us out of their dorm. She closes the door on our faces and we just look at each other. Mattheo shrugs and picks me up bridal style. I squeal and laugh lightly.

He walks us to his dorm and lies me back down onto his bed against his pillows. He takes the pillow we fucked on and puts it in his hamper. He lies down next to me and pulls me into his chest. I breathe in his cologne and I immediately feel like I'm home.

“Do you feel like you've known me for years or is it just me?” I ask looking up at him.

“No, I feel it too.” he responds kissing my forehead. I feel my eyes get droopy and Mattheo starts to play with the ends of my hair.

“Rest, sweet girl, I'll be here when you wake up” he kisses my forehead again and I feel myself drift off, happy for the first time in a while.

[burningcheese-merchant]

BurningCheese Ficlet for y'all

I'm planning to take a break from AO3 for a little while, because I wrote 4 fics in 4 days and my head hurts. (I don't usually write anything this fast, but when I'm truly inspired, I'm a man on a fucking mission lol)

Here's a relatively short fic for you guys to enjoy while I'm gone. It's wholesome (for once). Hope whoever reads it enjoys it, whether they like this ship or not

Post-canon (technically), Burning Spice is no longer a threat to anyone, he's just an asshole who's down bad

"Hm? Golden Cheese eyed the envelope being handed to her critically. "And this is...?"

"For you," Burning Spice said. "It is a romantic holiday today, is it not? Is this not what couples do for one another in celebration?" "I don't recall us ever being a couple, Mr. Burning Spice," Golden Cheese muttered, crossing her arms and giving him a look. "So I'm not sure what possesses you to want to celebrate a day not meant for either of us." "You possess me, my little thief. That is all the motivation I need." He returned her look of annoyance with a look of cool confidence, giving her a flirtatious smile. "Regardless, why do you shun a heartfelt gift? Are gestures of admiration such as these not what you like to receive from others?"

"They are," Golden Cheese said, "But I can't imagine whatever you've brought to me being 'heartfelt'. In fact, I didn't realize that word even existed within your vocabulary before today." He chuckled at her little jab, much to her own furthered annoyance. "You wound me, pretty bird. Why do you judge me for my appearance? Why don't you read this and see for yourself what I am capable of?" "It's hardly your appearance. I've encountered far more brutish beings than you who turned out to be bigger sweethearts than Pure Vanilla." She sighed. "But... fine, very well. If you went to this trouble, I suppose I can entertain it this once." "Yes... please do, my little thief." His smile grew bigger. "Entertain me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise did nothing to challenge him further and took the envelope into her hands. It was surprisingly fancy; adorned with intricate little patterns that she recognized to be commonplace in Wild Spice artistry. When she opened it, the smell of spice reached her nose, causing her to sneeze. Burning Spice chuckled again, and she shot him a disapproving glare. He gave her a look of endearment, his eyes twinkling with mirth and mischief. He did not speak, but he did not need to; she knew exactly what he meant by that face, for he'd given it to her before, along with the words meant to describe it. You're so adorable when you sneeze.

Not wanting to encourage this sentiment any further, she turned her attention back to the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. A pale reddish-orange, scented with nutmeg and tumeric. The words were written with black ink - in quite good handwriting, much to her surprise. A very quick skim told her it was a poem. She brought her eyes back to the very top and started again, reading it diligently, word for word:

"You flaunt your beauty in the rose, your glory in the dawn, Your sweetness in the nightingale, your whiteness in the swan. You haunt my waking like a dream, my slumber like a moon, Pervade me like a musky scent, possess me like a tune. Yet, when I crave of you, my sweet, one tender moment's grace, You cry, 'I sit behind the veil, I cannot show my face'. Shall any foolish veil divide my longing from my bliss? Shall any fragile curtain hide your beauty from my kiss? What is this war of thee and me? Give o'er the wanton strife. You are the heart within my heart, the life within my life."

Golden Cheese's mouth hung slightly agape by the time she finished, her face hot and cheeks flushed so red that she was certain it could be seen even all the way back home. "Burning Spice," she began. "I..." "You...?" he asked back, clearly enjoying the look on her face far too much. She stood silent for a moment longer before she collected herself. "It's... this is lovely," she said. "I don't know what to say. I... I truly did not think you were ever capable of something like this." "That's alright, pretty bird. Your eyes say enough." Oh, if only that blasted smile of his would fall away already. It was making her feel even stranger. "You and your people aren't the only ones with silver tongues in your mouths."

She hadn't been insulting the Wild Spices earlier, she had been insulting him - but even so, she had no choice but to admit her folly. "Fair enough," she said. "I was wrong to judge you so harshly. If I may gift you with something in return, it's with me saying that this would fit in among the works of my own kingdom's finest poets." "Would it, now? Such high praise, coming from you," Burning Spice purred. "But I'm afraid I'd rather you gift me with something else." "Oh?" She tilted her head at him. "And what would that be?" He answered her by coming closer, closer, until they stood toe to toe and his face was not so far from hers anymore. "I think you know," he said. He cupped her chin. "Or shall you let a veil divide us any longer?"

At this, Golden Cheese said nothing. She only let him tilt her head up gently, and her eyes flutter shut, as he leaned down and captured her lips with his own. Burning Spice kissed her sweetly, tenderly - so unlike what she expected of him, such a feeling and taste she never thought she'd find within spice like his. He licked at her lips, soft but still forceful enough to be noticed, politely asking for entry - and she obliged him, parting her lips and sighing into their kiss as his tongue slipped into her mouth and caressed her own. She felt a hand touch hers, rough fingers ghost against her skin, and she obliged him again, taking his hand into her own and lacing their fingers together. When they parted, he lingered there for a little while longer, their now half-lidded eyes locked and foreheads touching. The fire that always burned so bright in his eyes was now brought down to a smolder, reminding her more of the warmth of a fireplace than a scorching inferno. She could still feel his breath, taste it: hot and spicy, a shock to her senses. But... it wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all, actually. ...But he didn't need to know that. She'd fed his ego enough for one day.

"My little golden thief," he purred. "I thank you. Your gift is as lovely as mine." "...You're welcome," she murmured. "But... don't expect any more like it." "I won't," he said, that familiar sharp-toothed smile creeping back across his face, "Just the same as you expected me to give you something crude and mediocre." Her eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up in surprise, both at his words and the little jab hidden behind them. She opened her mouth to retort - but he cut her off before she could by kissing her again. Lightning fast, but still hot and rough, stealing the breath from her lungs. When he pulled back, that godforsaken grin came back in full force, stretching from ear to ear. "See?" he asked playfully. She chose not to respond this time, instead only huffing at him. Such audacity need not be dignified in such a manner. (And it wasn't because she had no real rebuttal to give him. Really. Honest.)

He gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go and stepping back again, giving her back her personal space. "Well, then," he said. "I shall give you one last gift by allowing you to enjoy the rest of this day on your own terms." "How kind of you, Burning Spice," Golden Cheese said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Once again, you surprise me with your words and actions." "Golden Cheese..." He turned his back and peeked at her from over his shoulder, his eyes burning bright once again. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." With that said, he turned and began walking away. She watched him leave with her arms crossed, staring daggers at the back of his head as he left. Finally, she was free. No more of his nonsense; she can bask in light and peace again.

And yet, his parting words still rang in her ears. "I intend to keep surprising you as many times as you'll allow." Just where did he get this brazenness from? Wherever he cultivated it, she wanted the earth salted and burned. After everything that's happened, after her granting him a goddess's mercy by allowing him to continue existing in her life after all was said and done, and he repays her with this never-ending foolishness? Well, she could commend his stubbornness, if nothing else. But this time was a step too far. This was the first Valentine's Day gift she's ever received from him, and it shall be the last. Next time, she will turn him away without remorse. Won't she?

She turned her eyes back to the paper in her hand. To the beautiful envelope that had housed it. To the poem inscribed on the page, that serenaded her without making a single sound. Golden Cheese, against her own better judgment, brought the poem back closer to her face and read it a second time. When she finished, she tucked it back into the envelope - carefully, so it wouldn't tear. And then she sighed. ...No. No, she won't.

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

The poem here is "Humayun to Zobeida" from the poetry collection "The Golden Threshold" (bet you know why I chose a poem from there lol), all written by Indian poet Sarojini Naidu. Please check it out if/when you can, her works are lovely and you can read them for free online (also a lot of the poems give me BurningCheese feels, especially "To the God of Pain")

Y'all let me know if you enjoyed this, I thought of a sequel and I'll write and post it if you want

[redfoxwritesstuff]

First off, as the year comes to a close, I want to say a few words of thanks. You see, I came back to fanom this year, not knowing my place or if I could find a place for me again.

Instead, one thing lead to another and I found a new fandom. One that, for all of it's toxic reputation- one very well earned thanks to a vocal subset within the fandom- has been ever so welcoming to me.

It has been that welcoming nature that has driven me to write over half a million words in the last twelve months. It is the eager interaction with artists and writers that the Hazbin Hotel fandom carries at its very core that makes it so much more than the negative reputation it has amassed.

It is the passion and drive of the fandom that has encouraged and rewarded me to write things I'm uncomfortable with, to write things I don't personally like or understand. It has driven me to challenge myself and broaden my writing horizons.

With that, I will be taking a short break. Just a few days where I'll be prioritizing myself, rotting on the couch, watching tv and resting. While I have enjoyed the countless challenges that Kinktomber and Smutmas provided me with but the reality is writing what amounts to a fic every other day while running a long series and having people waiting on another long series- it isn't sustainable.

So I'm going to take a few days, rest and I will be back with healthier writing habits. Just in time to drop the New Year's Kisses

While I have nothing but love for the Hazbin Hotel Fandom, there is something I would like to address. Below is a fraction of the asks I have gotten this last week. I get these types of messages a few times or so a week, nearly every week.

Why am I showing you this?

You see, I've said often for the last year that I get hate. It's a terrible side of the Hazbin community and while I suspect I know who sent at least one of these messages, and others that I have not shared. Some of it is, I believe, targeted harassment from people I once counted as friends or in the case of others, was on a friendly basis with.

That being said, in sharing these, I am breaking my own rule. You see, as a personal rule, I do not respond directly to anon hate. I do not discuss it in detail, I rarely even share it in screenshots with my friends.

There's a reason why I have this rule. You see, in sharing of anon hate, you give it life. You fan the flames. Your friends and your readers are called to defend you. It creates a storm of attention for the senders who observe from the sidelines.

The reality is- we as a fandom decide what is acceptable within it. We do not have to accept this toxic behavior. We do not have to share it. We do not have to give it life.

An abuser thrives off the power they have over you. They thrive off your reactions. They thrive of your pain. They thrive off knowing they can control the fandom, who is posting in it and what.

Personally- I do not give them that power in my space. Honestly, I recommend you don't either.

Their words mean nothing. Their hate? Worthless. At the end of the day, they're trying to crush you because they see something in you that they wish they had.

I see writers and artists leaving this fandom left and right in response to hate so here I am, airing my own dirty laundry to show that these disgusting little mites within the fandom- they're coming after more than just you. They're coming after more than just the ones sharing the hate.

If you're getting messages like these, reach out to your friends and fellow creators within your network. Lean on each other. You don't have to give it air and you also don't have to suffer in silence.

I am blessed to not have to suffer in silence. I've got @redvexillum and @nyx-umbrakinesis and many others who stand beside me, who stop me from feeling like I'm drowning in hate and burning this whole thing down. Because of their support, I don't need to respond to the hate directly.

But for you- my fellow writers and artists, I'm sharing it this one time as a reminder that you are not alone.

So may your new year's resolution be to stay, to continue creating and to continue being something they are jealous of.

May you shine bright in this upcoming year, Mama Kit

[cece693]

Ok uh Hi am new to this I just saw the " brilliant " fic which was 👏🏻👏🏻. Sooo I was wondering if u can make a fluff fic about clint barton x male reader, if thats ok with you?

Farm Boy (Clint Barton x Male Reader)

Hello! I'm actually not that much of a Hawkeye fan so it took me a while to write this and find motivation, but I think it turned out alright. Hope you enjoy it!

Clint Barton rarely got a day off. Between Avengers missions, SHIELD calls, and the occasional intergalactic catastrophe, his time at home was precious and fleeting. But today? Today was all his. All theirs. The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Clint stretched out in bed, the familiar creak of the old farmhouse adding to the peaceful ambiance. Beside him, you were still curled up in the covers, your hair tousled and your breathing soft. Clint smiled lazily, taking a moment to watch you before slipping out of bed as quietly as he could.

The kitchen smelled like coffee and bacon a half hour later. Clint hummed to himself as he flipped pancakes, a skill honed over years of needing to impress his husband after burning a few too many breakfasts in the early days of your relationship.

“Is that bacon I smell, or am I dreaming?” Your groggy voice drifted into the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of your socked feet shuffling across the hardwood floor.

Clint turned with a grin, a spatula in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. “Morning, sleepyhead. I figured I’d let you sleep in for once, but your stomach had other plans, huh?”

You chuckled, pulling him into a quick kiss before stealing the coffee. “You know me too well.”

The morning passed in a haze of quiet domesticity. Clint insisted on dragging you outside after breakfast, despite your protests about the slight chill in the autumn air. The two of you spent hours tending to the garden, chasing a rogue chicken that had escaped its coop, and splitting logs for the fire pit. It wasn’t glamorous, but that was the point. It was simple, real, and yours.

By late afternoon, the sun was hanging low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the farm. Clint had convinced you to take a break on the porch swing, a thick blanket draped over both your laps. He leaned back, one arm around your shoulders, the other hand fiddling with a mug of cider.

“This,” Clint said, breaking the comfortable silence, “is what I miss the most when I’m away. Just being here with you. No explosions, no supervillains, no crazy missions. Just us.”

You smiled, leaning into his side. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Don’t cry, babe. I’ll just have to kiss it all better, and that sounds like a lot of work,” he teased, though his lips were already pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

You turned to face him, eyes soft as you brushed a hand through his hair. “You know you’re a lot more than just Hawkeye to me, right? You’re my Clint. My husband. The guy who makes terrible pancakes and hogs the blanket at night.”

He smirked. “Terrible pancakes? You ate three of them this morning.”

“Details,” you replied with a grin, leaning up to kiss him. Clint melted into it, his hand coming up to cradle your face, the moment stretching out like a scene from a romance movie.

As the sky turned shades of pink and orange, Clint sighed contentedly, pulling you closer. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this life with you, but I’m not letting it go. Ever.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, your fingers intertwining with his. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go, either.” The two of you stayed on the porch swing long after the sun disappeared, wrapped in each other’s warmth, soaking up every second of Clint’s rare, perfect day off.

[hey-august]

Saw the cuteness aggression post you reblogged and would feel blessed if you ever wrote whump fic with Buggy because I would ALSO love to try and comfort a man who just staggered into the room bloody, beaten and bruised, clearly just thumbling over the threshold of “show no weakness” to “in so much pain he doesn’t even care anymore that he’s hiccuping and sobbing like a child while clinging to you” hurt comfort with heavy emphasis on the hurt? Yes pls

Anon, I'm so so sorry for how long it took me to get to this. I love me some angst and whump, and while I had ideas, the motivation to write was not working with me.

I don't want to keep holding onto this and leave you hanging for even longer, so I wrote out my idea in bullet point format.

I hope this still hits the spot!

WC: ~550 Warnings: buggy x gn!reader, mentions of blood and burn wounds

You and Buggy have an unspoken thing. A mutual pining. There's respect and some affection. A closeness, but still distance and a barrier that neither of you acknowledge.

You're the ship's doctor and the crew was in a rough fight. Lots of injuries, ranging from minor scuffs, to teeth knocked out, stitches, broken noses and broken bones, blood and tears - it's a lot in a short period of time.

You're doing what you can, and those who are less injured are helping where they can.

Once you get through those involved, the captain is the last one left needing your attention.

Maybe he's been sitting nearby the whole time, waving away anyone coming to triage or check on him, snapping that he's fine. Get the hell away from him.

But when the room empties, Buggy crumbles. It starts small, bit by bit as you assess him.

His busted lip is split and bleeding, the color mixing with his smeared lipstick. His right eye is swelling. His beautiful hair is singed. The affected tips are stuck in terrified curls from trying to run from the heat. The smell is clinging everywhere.

But the worst are the burns. You're not sure what happened - some of the other crewmembers had burns and scorch marks, but not like this.

Your captain has some rough wounds on his arms and torso, where the heat ate away at the fabric before feeding on his skin and flesh.

He's wet and sticky. Swaths of skin are weeping. Buggy's feeling exposed, tender, and hurt. Pain is radiating out while regret and fear are falling inwards.

All it takes is one soft comment from you. "You must be in so much pain." You were talking to yourself, but it's the acknowledgement that Buggy must have needed.

The eyes that had been avoiding yours, stopped holding back tears. His clenched jaw and tight lips quiver. He nods.

You can't fathom how much it hurts to move, but Buggy has his arms wrapped tightly around your midsection. His hands are clutching your clothes, pulling them taut. It's like he's a cracked vessel, losing liquid and life, but maybe you can keep him together. Maybe you could fix him. And if not, he wouldn't be alone as he breaks.

Hurting more is often part of getting better. You know this, and you let it happen.

You let Buggy cry against you. You let his tears, snot, spittle, and worries seep into your clothes. You hold the back of his head and put a hand on his back, and rub. You let your own stinging tears fall.

Noises get caught in his throat and Buggy fixes his hold, as if he's trying to wrap himself around you even more. As if he's trying to squeeze every drop of comfort and care from you.

His hands are detached, fingers stretched and probably barely connected, all so he can hold more of you. Even his feet are shuffling, seeking contact against yours. His knees knocking against your legs.

Buggy continues until he's hiccupping and coughing. Until he has a headache and his eyes are bleary.

You should have stopped him sooner. Some of the oozing wounds started to crust and are clinging to the fabric of your clothes.

Buggy whines and grunts as he literally peels himself away.

You still need to clean and dress the wounds, so another round of pain. One could argue that you should have gone ahead and done that right away, but no.

Despite the visible injuries, there's invisible damage that needed to be soothed.

You can almost see Buggy picking up his broken pieces and putting them back together. Recreating a wall, a mask, a barrier.

You know what's on the other side, though. And you will be there whenever he needs you.

[lalacliffthorne]

Hi, I love your modern batboys roommate fic so much. I am obsessed with Azriel and readers relationship and the way you write them. It’s my comfort fic that I always fun back to.

I know you don’t take request and I totally respect that, but I would be really curious what it would look like when Az and reader get into a fight (either a smaller fight like a disagreement or even a bigger fight). I’m really curious what it would look like since they live together, how they would react to being in a fight. And I’m curious what Rhys and Cassian’s reactions would be as well. But I feel like depending on the fight it wouldn’t last too long since they seem to be good at communicating and they love each other so much.

Sorry about the ramble, I’ve thought about this way too much. Anyways love your writing and your fics 🫶🏻🫶🏻

omg hi 🥹 thank u so much!! this means the world to me 💕

oohhhhh okay?? this is a really good question?! I already know I'm gonna go overboard with this lol

so for me, I feel like disagreements are rare. because honestly, you rarely disagree on anything in the first place. like, you are so attuned to each other and in synch, barely anything can throw that.

which means, the few disagreements that might occur are usually based on concern or something similiar. like azriel thinking you need a break and you being too stubborn, and vice versa. but those are usually solved easily, with azriel simply literally dragging you away from work and you talking some sense into him. communication is something the both of you know is important, and while az might not seem like he's big on talking, he's actually one of the few people that can get through to you when you're caught in your head, with simple, steady words. vice versa, you are one of the only people that can get through to him.

which means, actual fights are even more rare. like, so rare that the first time it happens, it throws not just you, but everyone.

it would definitely be about something that actually runs deep, bc anything superficial you either talk out or never actually becomes a problem. it would have to be something that makes azriel shut down and you so frustrated that you do too. again, I think it would be most likely something that stems from concern about the other.

the fight itself would shake you to your core. not because azriel would get loud or anything, he would never, not even in a serious argument, not even if you lost your temper on him. but bc usually, you manage to talk through everything.

but this time, instead, azriel shuts down. barely says anything at all, whole body tense and eyes stormy. it wouldn't be to punish you or anything; the literal only reason he would shut down on you like this would be him getting caught in his own head until he's not able to see how desperate you are, angry - until you shut down too.

and that is when the actual hard part begins. azriel is still caught in his head and distances himself without even noticing, and you pull back too, bc you're stuck in your own head.

which means suddenly, the whole flat is quiet.

rhys and cassian would notice immediately - and it would throw absolutely everything for them. bc let's be honest, azriel and you are the one constant these two can always rely on when they get home, knowing you are either in one of your rooms, your body curled into azriel's on the bed, messing around in the kitchen or sandwiched on the couch. you are the two people in their lives they know are like - fucking meant for each other.

so I definitely think it would have a massive effect on them. like suddenly rhys, who has problems sleeping in good times, barely sleeps at all. just loses all his focus; burns food and gets the simplest recipes wrong. he gets snappy, not even sarcastic or anything, just plain pissed, until it mounts into an absolutely massive argument with his dad. and cass, who we all know is basically sunshine incarnate, is just worried to his core. bc you're his family, and he can't lose that. so, gone is the constant grin and jokes, until all is left is a broody attitude and a deep frown.

I don't think either of them would ever pick sides, like - they love the both of you way too much for that and can probably guess that this argument is not really anyone's fault. having said that, I do think cass would probably gravitate towards you. bc - he is so protective of you on a good day, and he literally physically can't stand to see you so upset. it just absolutely breaks his heart, and he would want to do everything in his power to make sure you're not alone in this. like, he's the one who gets you to finally open your door, and who you break down on. he's the one who doesn't leave your side until he absolutely has to, who takes you wherever you need to go, sends everyone who just looks at you for too long scrambling with a simple dark glare. don't get me wrong, he'd leave you alone if you'd asked him, but he would probably fucking camp outside your door or something, just in case.

rhys on the other hand is there for you quietly. like coming into both of your rooms to bring you food and, in your case, sitting down on the floor until you've eaten something. pulling you out of the flat for a walk so you get some fresh air, just letting you lean into him. other than that, he just watches quietly.

until he's had enough. cause honestly - it's clear to anyone with the barest bit of common sense that both azriel and you are absolutely miserable. neither of you leaves their room. you don't get any sleep, bc how when azriel's not there, your thoughts are swallowing you whole, and you don't smile anymore. meanwhile, azriel stops talking altogether. both of you are yearning so incredibly hard for the other that whenever azriel just catches a whiff of your perfume, he has to fight the urge to barge into your room, simply held back by guilt, and you well up whenever you just catch a glimpse at his door.

I think rhys would probably just march into azriel's room and tell him to cut the crap. he would be so angry, like - "please, for god`s sake, stop being a fucking idiot, get out of your head and talk to your fucking girlfriend, you moron". and azriel would glare at him so hard - but rhys just glares the fuck back until azriel breaks.

he probably finds you in your room. it breaks his heart to see you curled up under your blanket, looking tired and pale and likely with red eyes from crying, and he suddenly absolutely wants to kick himself. you're not any better tho, the sight of him, hair a mess, dark shadows under his eyes and gaze dull causing your chest to squeeze.

you definitely talk it out, azriel starting, voice quiet, rough. it needs a good, honest conversation, about the reasoning why he shut down, why you did the same. you also promise there and that moment to never let it get that far again, to not speaking for days, bc honestly - you're just miserable without the other, and you barely handled it this time. you make a deal to give the other space when needed but never go to bed without talking it out - and you stick to that, for every future argument after.

when azriel finally pulls you into a hug so tight, your ribs ache, you just squeeze back, probably tearing up bc god, you missed him. and you missed his smile and his eyes and the way he always seems to be right behind you, and nothing feels right without him.

cass and rhys are so relieved when you walk into the kitchen together bit later, cass breaking into the widest grin ever and rhys immediately making you promise to him too to never let it get this far again, bc fuck that - the two of you are meant together and fighting is just shit. it makes you giggle wetly, azriel cracking the first grin in days, and both cass and rhys swear the world finally feels right again.

anyway, jfc, I'm sorry for this ramble 🙈 that totally got out of hand 😂

thank u so much for this again tho, this was really fun!! if there are other scenarios you've been thinking about, I'd love to hear them 💞

[thewinchestah]

"INTERMISSION" - ALASTOR X READER

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Tags: ,18+, Smut, NSFW, edging, BDSM, Alastor does what he wants, there's plot if you squint really hard, alastor in heat, breeding kink, Possesive! Alastor, Jealous!Alastor, Protective!Alastor, masturbation, I didn't proof read this, english isn't my first language, no beta we die like men here, etc etc etC

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Part I  | Part 2  | Part 4

A/N: Hello,hello everyone! Again, thank you all so much for the amazing reception to "Good things come for those who wait". I'm truly touched by your words and praise. I never really tought my writing would see the light of day at this point, nor this much love. My biggest thanks to everyone who takes the time to leave a comment.

So, I'm a bit self concious about this piece. "Intermission" is supossed to be a light break from the previous two fics. A breath of fresh, sex smelling air as I write the next long chapter. (It's gonna be nasty). My intent with this fic was to make it kinda chaotic, kinda rushed like Alastor's mind would be as he masturbates himself at the thought of you and what you are doing to him.

I truly hope I can do your hopes and expectations for my writting justice. I really appreciate feedback on this one.

As always, my special thanks goe to my lovely friend @smallershorteranduncut, who always support my ideas. Te amo amiga <3

Taglist: @markster666 @jyoongim @stygianoir  @pepperycookie @fraspent @aether-th3-enby  @lady-valtieri . If the tags aren't working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

PART I | PART II

-

Alastor considered himself a smart man, a cunning, self-sufficient, resourceful man. So, naturally, the irony of him being locked inside the bathroom, his cock in his hands while he tortures himself with thoughts of you made him frustrated at best, murderous at worst. 

He hates everything about it, he hates to admit that his rut indeed makes him on edge and out of control, he hates to admit that before he met you the ways he dealt with his rut were… undignified. And he hates even more admitting that since he had you at his every whim, to fuck, to breed, to inflict the most depraved ways of torture his rut was becoming a pleasurable thing. All because of you, only because of you.

He had quite literally just fucked you so hard you passed out, his name a scream on your lips, so loud heaven might have heard it. Some part of Alastor wishes that heaven heard it, so they know they made a mistake, so they know they let one of the most sacred things to exist get down here. In hell, with him. Your heavenly body is his to do as he pleases, to break it, desecrate its holiness as he fucks you into submission, granting him a relief so pure, so all consuming that it shouldn’t even be allowed in hell. And they will never correct this mistake.

Some part of Alastor wishes no know never knew about how you always make a mess of yourself for him, how you gladly sprawl yourself open for him, eyes lustful and hopeful that if you let him take it out just a little more on you tonight he will send you over the edge with those two little words: good. girl. 

And what a perfect good girl you were, doe eyes always seeking for his across any room, with adoration, with barely hidden lust, with love. Such a contrast when compared to his eyes, burning red from desire, anger, lack of empathy. Red condescending eyes filled with excitement about what he is going to do to you, what he is making you endure for him.

It doesn’t make it any easier on Alastor’s painfully hard cock that you are sleeping just a door away after a rough fuck, his seed still coating your thighs.

He flicks his wrist up and down his shaft, slowly. 

Just as slow as how his cock stretched your tight cunt, inch by inch when he first took you.  You weren’t nearly as wet as you should be for the first time taking his cock but you darling thing decided to break one of his rules. Your legs desperately spreading in a futile attempt to accommodate him, the delicious fear in your eyes as you realized what you’ve gotten yourself into, completely at his mercy, enduring the pain of being broken by his monster cock. The scream you let out when he buried himself to the hilt inside you, you liked it even when it was hurting, because the pain Alastor inflicted on you was ten times better than any pleasure your silly mortal lovers had ever given you. 

The Radio Demon has a knuckle white grip on his cock now, even with hands as big as his, Alastor is having trouble fully closing his hand around the swollen member, his need to claim, to mark, to breed you strong as ever. Precum leaks for the engorged red tip and a hiss escapes his lips, the feeling of powerlessness consuming him in waves of a maddening, unprecedented carnality. The only thing the mighty demon overlord can do to mimic the divine feeling of your cunt being spreading the glossy drop around his overly sensitive tip, grip his cock even tighter as he strokes himself harder and faster, like a maniac. 

How the mighty have fallen, he thinks to himself, he’s completely cunt struck by you.

Naturally, he’s gonna make you pay for it. 

Alastor fucks himself fast and hard, trying to pic up the breakneck speed he usually does when he’s burying himself inside your heat, his grip sometimes painful. Exactly how the way he wants to be next time he fucks you.

The raw carnality consuming him is too overbearing, so overbearing he closes his burning red eyes as his brain process the severity of his situation: he found the perfect plaything, a deliciously submissive doe for him to breed until she’s numb with the feeling of his cock thrusting into her, completely filled up by his seed. It made his rut more bearable, it made his rut pleasurable, everytime he needed to scratch that primal need you’re always there, always ready to completely  submit to him, to completely ruin yourself for him. Alastor honestly thought having you always there, as fun as it was to toy with you that way, would make things better. But it actually made it worse. Because now he knows.

Oh fuck, now he knows.

More pre cum spills, running through Alastor’s claws, dripping and staining his pants, making a mess under him. But it’s not enough, because it will never be enough. It’s not your mess coating his cock, running through his claws, it’s not the sinful invitation of your wetness staining his clothes.

Realization hits him like a curse. 

His wrist flicks around his cock with a purpose: to find relief in pain. 

You’re the only thing he wants. You are the only woman he will ever want like that. You are the only one he wants to see the obscene amount of his seed dripping from a perfectly swollen red cunt. You are the only one who could possibly deserve this. Now he knows what it is like to feel, to want someone. To have an irrevocable connection. No one in heaven, hell, and all the other possible realms of creation have the right to even think of you in that way. You are his and that’s final.

Next time he takes you he will make sure you know that. 

Stroking himself erratically now, Alastor pictures you peacefully sleeping next door, luscious body sprawled on the bed like you don’t have a care in the world. He wants the first thing you feel when you open your eyes is fear. Good, you should feel scared. You should be very, very scared of what he is going to do to you. He hopes to relish in fear in your eyes as he enters your tight pussy, stretching your velvet walls apart in ways you’ve never felt before. Being obscenely broken to accommodate the girth of his rut swollen cock.

Fear, because you should be scared. Fear because you aren’t. Fear because as the realization that Alastor needs you terrifies him, the realization that you fucking love the pain of being a submissive slut to the Radio Demon will undo you, in unholy ways.

The scene of your ass on his lap, red with regret from his whipping and a symphony of your soft moans overrides his mind. You were sobbing from those little whips? He’s gonna double that. He’s gonna give you something to truly cry about. He’s gonna see you cum from the pain of being whipped into submission and his voice only. Because it is  what you deserve for making him feel like this. Because it is what you want.

He’s close now, he can tell. He’s gonna cum soon. And it is not going to be inside your pussy. Alastor is enraged about that. 

A clawed hand grips the wall besides him. He strokes himself at a merciless pace. Just as merciless as he is gonna be with you. He knows your body like the palm of the hand that is clawing the wall because of the maddening desire he has for you. He’s gonna lure you so you purposefully make a mistake. Just so you can give him the excuse to punish you into understanding that you are irrevocably his. He’s gonna take all of you as it is his right.

His cock twitches, claws scratch the posh wallpaper all the way down, he spills so much cum, all over his lap, his hand. 

The sight of Alastor’s flustered face, in post orgasmic daze after mercilessly touching himself at the thought of you is something you definitely should see. But he will never let you.

Because now his mind is clear, he knows it and delights in acceptance. You are his, his mate, his love. 

And he’s gonna take his sweet time torturing you into compliance and understanding. With pain, pleasure and all that is Alastor’s nature.

[starheirxero]

Hey!! I really love the way you depict Eclipse! I'm writing a fic with him and i need him to open up because it's supposed to be shippy. How do you get Eclipse to lower his guard?

?!?!?! THIS IS SUCH A NICE ASK OMG???? I'm literally honored u like my characterization omg hdjshdjd!!!

INCREDIBLY fun question too omg!! I will say that who you're shipping him with changes things quite a bit, because he's a very particular person like that. You can't entirely make him open up to Sun the same way you'd make him open up to Solar, yk?

However! I think I would go with roughly one of two ways. And also I ended up yapping for 7 paragraphs so this goes under a read more LMAO

The first way is just, the slow burn of patience and understanding. Eclipse is a very slow burn kinda guy because he's very guarded and doesn't want to invest his energy into people who will end up turning on him in some way. If someone has been around him long enough and has shown that they have no double standards, is willing to hear him out, and is at least trying to make a genuine connection, then this can usually lead to vulnerable moments.

Like, Earth and Moonpea are the best examples of this method I think. Earth has shown to give Eclipse the space he needs to exist without scrutiny because she knows everyone else's kneejerk reaction is anger, while Moonpea has shown that he truly genuinely wants to connect with Eclipse because he cares about their friendship. Both of them have gotten vulnerable truths from Eclipse because he felt comfortable letting his guard down around them.

This method can work well on any iteration of Eclipse but is the primary method for any versions before v4 tbh.

The second method is if you don't wanna bother with slow burn, but it is Distinctly a more angsty path to take. That being: the beloved "break his legs with a hammer" method!!!

This basically means: put him in a scenario where he is Already prone to having a mental breakdown and then stick him with whatever character ur shipping him with!! If someone finds him with his gooey insides already starting to leak through his cracked mask, there's not a lot you can do to hide it now, yk?

He'd definitely try to keep hiding it but if someone is willing to either go "hey man. i don't mind the goo, it's alright" or "let's help you clean this up, c'mon" or even just give him the space to recollect himself before asking questions, then I think it can lead to Eclipse caving and letting his guard down around whoever is there.

And then I guess there is also just whatever Ballora did!!! Just sorta, showing up repeatedly and going "hey bestie!!!" I think this is also a more v4 Eclipse centric method because. motions vaguely at v2 Eclipse and Earth. Previous iterations are too defensive NFKDNC but it did Something so, worth mentioning I guess!!

[mintyeve322]

for anyone concerned by my writing style on my posts that my fic(s) might have no capital letters, random capital letters, or some other issue, i just wanted to clarify i type posts and messages very different from stories.

in stories I'll use proper punctuation, capitalization, spelling, and grammar. (at least to the best of my ability) i just couldn't give two shits about that stuff while I'm rambling here.

just a warning or heads up, haha.

anyway, so that we're on topic, fiddlestan time below the cut.

I think their relationship is pretty quick to take off but slow to be official. i feel like Stan is so starved for affection that she's scared to acknowledge her feelings, especially since affection is sometimes just "platonic girl stuff". don't worry stan, overly affectionate heterosexual female friends drive me insane too.

on Fidd's part, i think she is hesitant to make things official because at first she's not sure if her feelings are genuine or if she's accidentally using Stan, but once she realized thats not it, she's still hesitant to say anything because she doesn't wanna make Stan uncomfortable if she's not right about her feelings.

Fidds is a people pleaser and unhinged as hell before she uses the memory gun, let alone afterwards, so she for sure has made or aquired some crazy shit as gifts for Stan. She for sure has made her at least one robot that malfunctioned and had to be decommissioned, she bought Stan a fish, I'll do some fish research to figure out what kind later but it has some sort of significance, to occupy the empty tank in the shack since Frilliam is lost at sea. She's probably helped Stan make exhibits and made a cryptid up that reminds her of Stan. I feel like she'd get gifts for Stan constantly, and Stan wouldn't know how to act about it because her instinct is to be skeptical of kindness but Fidds was her sister's friend and she hasn't asked Stan for anything in return and she doesn't know why.

Related to Stan's belief that affection is transactional, if Fidds ever gets nervous about the portal or if Stan keeps something from her, like why she got arrested last night or where she found a part and Fidds says she owes Fidds an explanation, Stan will shut down and probably cry in her room for an hour.

Stan is VERY worried that Fidds is gonna reveal one day that she's only there for some sort of payment or gain on her end, and if she even implies that Stan owes her something, Stan will spiral until Fidds is able to figure out the problem and apologize, even if she agrees that she does owe Fiddleford something for all she's done.

Related to this, there's probably a period of time where Fidds is working really hard, to the bone, for Stan. She hates not feeling useful and may have hit a road block she's trying to push through or something, and when Stan tells her to take a break, she interprets it as a sarcastic "just let me do it, idiot" comment and not the "please take a break im worried about you" way stan intended it, due to the fact Ford, with her one track mind, has been harsh to her in that way before.

Fidds is apologetic and swears she's almost got it she just needs more time and please don't maker her leave she promises she can do it, and Stan has to basically grab her, look her in the eyes, and tell her she just needs to take a break and come back later. Fidds says she just wants to be useful for Stan, and Stan tells her she doesn't care if she's useful, she just needs her there and burning herself out working on the project is not worth it. they have a long conversation about how even if fidds never worked on the project again Stan would still want her around and its sad and fluffy.

also a thing where stan gets frustrated and implies Fidds isnt useful and has to comfort her and insist that isn't what she meant because it genuinely wasn't what she meant agh i love miscommunication hurt/comfort

idk im rambling and i feel like we're all so busy unpacking Stan's trauma we forget that Fidds has very real trauma from her work with Ford that has plenty of hurt/comfort potential as well.