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astermath · 1 year

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“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day.

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually.

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed.

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm.

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass.

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them.

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy.

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though.

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it.

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him.

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys.

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed.

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter.

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okiedokrie · 5 months

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High Infidelity

Summary: There are many different ways that you could kill the one you love, the slowest way is never loving them enough. So what happens when you find someone who was all too willing to give you thee attention you craved, you said you'd only dip your toes into the idea, and yet, you find yourself already drowning. The novel you've been writing has been in progress for the better half of two years now, your writer's block beating you up, and your husband hasn't shown you any sympathy. Maybe a visit to the art exhibit from this new artist would jog your creativity, but what happens when this new artist offers you more than just relief from your writer's block?

Characters/Pairing(s): Xu Minghao (The8) x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

AUs/Trope info: Non-idol!AU, Aged-Up!AU, Right Person (not) Too Late

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Infidelity, very inappropriate conversations with a married woman, afab!reader, wears dresses, lmk if i miss something!! (Smut warnings under the cut)

Rating: 18+

A/N: banner and dividers by @daemour!! tysm!! This is also a rewrite/reupload of my own fic, "High Infidelity" on @pyeonghongrie, yes I reskinned my own fic.

A/N 2: Thanks to @nebulousbrainsoup, @kwanisms, @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, and @gongiz for beta-reading!

Smut Warnings: tipsy sex (not drunk), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, nipple stimulation, masturbation, lmk if i missed anything!

The rain soaked into your skin—cold and icy—piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

"I'm right here, honey, I love you." He whispers into your skin, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, one button at a time. He kisses your skin every time new skin is revealed to both of you, he kisses your skin so delicately as if you'd break at the slightest touch-

"Y/N, you still haven't dealt with the dishes yet." Your husband, Haru, said monotonously just as you were starting to gain momentum in your writing.

You groan, the interruption making you lose focus and motivation to write. You stare at the last word on your document, gaze burning into each pixel as if hoping that this piece would write itself.

Unfortunately, life said, "Fuck you."

With another groan, you rub and pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to settle in as your husband returns to work as if he didn't just cause you a serious inconvenience.

Standing from your comfortable computer chair, you take calm and even strides toward your kitchen, where only a handful of dishes are left in the sink.

And this little shit didn't even bother washing like, what? 8 dishes? He has to be kidding me, men.

You thought to yourself, your inner monologue only making you more irritated. But you wash them in silence, thinking of ways to calm down and clear your head so you have a clean slate to work with to get inspired again.

I think I should visit the gallery again, there's this new artist that I've been following. He's getting pretty popular, maybe I could draw inspiration from his work?

You think maybe this is the best idea you've had since you put bacon bits on mac & cheese.

Taking the time to visit this gorgeous gallery was the correct move.

Xu Minghao is a passionate man, you can see his dedication to his craft in all the pieces in this gallery. He was a mixed media artist, sometimes his work was pops of color on a canvas, others were sculptures made of clay, made with the most delicate of hands, and others were more niche, like the stained glass piece in another part of the gallery.

One thing about Minghao's work is that his subjects are also subjects of passion.

Paintings of a man's devotion to worshiping his lover's skin, a stained glass recreation of The Birth of Venus by Botticelli, and his latest masterpiece, simply titled "Passion", a sculpture of a woman in the throes of pleasure, with her lover holding her close to him, no gap between their skin, eternally locked in a passionate embrace.

As a romance writer, this is exactly what you need.

You take in this sculpture, the light of the gallery display emphasizing the delicate attention to detail this piece had, you know the man who made this takes pride in this, his work, skills, and dedication finally being realized.

You stare in awe at this piece for a little over 20 minutes, the more you look at it, the more entranced you become of the mastery of this craft.

You feel a presence beside you, a man around 5'11", slightly muscular build, in a turtleneck with glasses sitting delicately on his nose. He has a peculiar hairstyle, a mullet to be exact, and the most gorgeous face you've ever laid your eyes on.

"I see you like this piece in particular," He started, hands in his trouser pockets while smiling fondly at the piece, "'Passion' was a difficult piece for me to finish, ironically enough, I got bored of it quite easily." He continues, turning to face you.

"I'm Minghao, by the way, Xu Minghao. If you haven't already figured it out." He takes a hand out of his pocket, extending it towards you.

"Oh, I'm Y/N, Park Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you, Minghao. Your exhibit is astounding, I love your dedication to your work." You take his hand to shake it,

He chuckles at the compliment, "Oh please, save your praise, I know that name from anywhere. I love your latest work, that book was what inspired this entire collection, to begin with."

You gawk at him, oh my god, he reads smut. My smut.

"Oh my, what an honor! I'm glad you also enjoy my work." You receive the compliment gracefully, "Although, I do want to hear more about why you got bored of this piece in particular, such a wonder to the arts community, surely you aren't downplaying your work?"

He smiles, perfect teeth on display, you swear you’ve never looked at a man like this in your life. You were down bad for his smile.

"I'm not saying I think it's bad, I just got bored of the creative process." He explains, "Although I do want to continue adding to this collection, perhaps we can go and get drinks together? Exchange ideas?" he offers.

You ponder on this for a bit. Going out to drinks with a budding friend wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I give you my number? Let's set aside a day to chat. I have to get home to my husband before it gets too late."

A smirk came into his face, something dark about a seemingly insignificant change in his expression, “Of course, I look forward to our time together.”

The mug in your hands warmed your palms, and your focus was fixated on the man in front of you. He talked about another piece of his, titled “Longing”; it was heavily inspired by his desire to find someone who shares the same passion as him, the longing to hold someone in a way that nobody else could, intimacy in its purest form.

“It sounds a bit pathetic, I’m known for my work in the art of passion and, to put it simply, sex; but I haven’t been able to find the company of a lover myself. Perhaps that’s just the consequence of being a hopeless romantic. Then again, you wouldn’t know the feeling of being lonely, I assume.” He said calmly, a small chuckle ending his tangent.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” You look into the mug in your hands, your reflection swirling in the tea. Your face looks back at you, eyes sunken in and sad, “To put it nicely… my husband robs me of solitude, but fails to offer me company.” You shouldn’t be talking about Haru like this. Your husband works many hours, tirelessly providing you with the house and connections for you to pursue a career in writing. But that wasn’t the reason why your anxiety was swirling in your stomach.

Looking back up at Minghao, the same dark expression sits on his face, a minuscule smirk, barely there even if you squint, “Well, we’re friends now, aren’t we? I could keep you company.”

That. That was a quality of his that you noticed fairly early on. You can never read his true intentions, suggestive prose with just enough deniability to gracefully reject him without the conversation becoming inappropriate.

But your anxiety wasn’t caused by that, no, it was caused by the fact that you didn’t want to reject him.

“I’d like that, Maybe we could head to a bar and get drinks there too? My husband won’t be back for a few months because of a business trip in a few weeks. I could use the company.” You say, looking at him through your lashes; he knows his effect on you, and the mental gymnastics that both of you play over the table was just appropriate enough that to anyone listening, it’s just two friends agreeing to get drinks sometime in the future.

But to both of you, well, only the two of you know what’ll happen once the sun goes down.

“Of course, my schedule is free for the rest of the month. Be sure to think of me if you need company.” He offers you a soft smile, directly contrasting how intensely he’s making eye contact with you. The way he’s looking into your eyes makes you feel vulnerable like he’s directly using them as windows into your head. You’re half-convinced he could read your mind, if he could, he’s a master at hiding it.

You haven’t learned much about him, but from what you do know, you can never take his words at surface level, much less his actions. The way he’s leaning over the table, elbows on the surface, and his shoulders relaxed. His closing the distance, even if just by a hair, and the way his posture suggested the epitome of familiarity, shook you to your core.

His presence is almost suffocating, his dominance over your mind silencing whatever protest his suggestions may have created. You nod dumbly, “Of course, be warned though, I think of you a lot.” This causes his smile to relax into a smirk, the kind that could pass off as a smile if you don’t think too hard about it.

“I’m glad to hear that. I think about you a lot too.” He says picking up his cup of tea, “So much that a collection was born from the thought of you.” He takes a sip from the cup in his hands, eyes meeting yours over the rim of the cup, the way he holds eye contact with you always makes goosebumps litter your skin, the cup hiding the growing smirk on his face, silently enjoying his effect on you.

“Ah, speaking of the collection,” He started again, after setting the cup down, “Would you do me the honor of visiting my studio sometime? I’ll text you the address right now, you can come by at any time if you’re interested.” Taking his phone out from his pocket, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket, you pick it up. The small device, usually light, feels like a heavy weight on your palm.

Opening your messages, you see that Minghao already sent the address, a building about 20 minutes from the cafe you’re in right now. “Lovely, could I trouble you to pick me up when I decide to visit?” You ask,

“Of course,” He replies, a gentle smile stretches across his face, “I’d love nothing more than to see you more often.”

The first time you entered Minghao’s studio, it felt like a dream. The studio wasn’t small by any means, the place was neat, neater than what you imagined any artist studio would look like. “Make yourself at home, I’ll brew some tea for us,” Minghao said as he took both your coats. Hanging the heavy fabrics on his coat rack, he gently guides you to the couches with a hand on your back, the light touch helping to ground you in this new environment.

He shoots you a quick smile before turning his back to you, setting his electric kettle to boil the water at the perfect temperature for tea. He rummages through his extensive tea set collection, settling on a simple white ceramic set with wooden handles. His eyes meet yours briefly, taking note of how you watch his every movement with care and curiosity, the way you were fascinated with the way his hand veins jumped every time he set a piece of the tea set down.

The kettle finishes boiling, he finally sets it down next to the tea set. “I want to introduce you to this teacake that my friend from home sent me,” He pulls out a teacake about the size of his head from the drawer under the table, wrapped in a slightly stained paper. He carefully unwraps it to show you the rich brown of the aged tea leaves, “This is a 15-year-old aged pu’er, I haven’t had the chance to try it yet, so I’d like to try this with you.”

“What an honor, I read from a recent interview that you were waiting for a good day to taste that right?” You ask, trying to gauge his reaction, if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it,

“Of course, making a new friend is a special occasion, isn’t it? I’d consider that a good day.” He replies cooly, taking a tea knife and carving out a piece of tea to steep for a second, you watch as he delicately handles the porcelain set, the control in his movements reminding you of his mastery in sculpting, “You know, making tea is much like cultivating a new relationship,” he starts as he stands up to take the kettle off the stand.

“You carefully carve out your leaves, boil your water to the perfect temperature to bloom them, and steep the leaves a few seconds at a time.” You see him pour the water over the tea leaves, dried blades blooming like flowers under the delicate stream. “Each steep of tea is different, starting from the bloom until the flavor develops; and only then will you appreciate the true complexities of what tea has to offer.”

A small smile grows on your face as you watch him pour the first bloom onto his tea pets, “If my assessment is correct, you’re trying to correlate the developing flavors of tea with how our relationship is progressing?” He nods, confirming your hypothesis, “Then, I’ll ask you a question, which steep are we on?” you say with a cheeky smile.

Minhao grins at this, eyes almost disappearing with how wide his smile was, “Literally? The second steep.” He says as he pours more water over the leaves, you let out a chuckle at his little joke, “Figuratively? The fifth.”

You tilt your head a bit, “The fifth? I didn’t realize we were already at that stage.” you say as you accept his offer of a teacup.

He chuckles, “Well, I don’t just share my most expensive teas with anyone, so I might as well share it with one of the most brilliant minds I know.” he said while bringing the cup to his lips, sipping the drink carefully while making eye contact with you over the rim, winking playfully.

You raise your cup as well, the rising steam not being the only reason for your flushed face, you grin against the rim of your cup, savoring the rich and deep aroma of the high-quality tea.

After a while of banter and small talk, you finish your tea, setting down your cup gently on his expensive-feeling coffee table, he stands from his seat, “Could I show you something?” he said, holding his hand out to you. You place your palm on his, the warmth from his hand seeping into your skin. The touch was negligible, simple, even, but the contact with his skin sent electricity through you, like a violent jolt of excitement.

Minghao notices this and smirks, feeling pride swell up in his chest as he pulls you up from the couch, leading you to the other side of the room with a hand on the small of your back. He finally stops in front of a large canvas, laid across what looks like a bare-bones bed frame. You turn to him, curiosity growing on the expression of your face.

“What’s this? This looks fairly new, the paint on the frame still seems wet.” You ask, eyes raking over the splotches of color seemingly placed without much thought or care, it looked like the aftermath of a messy and angry paint spill.

“It is new,” Minghao starts, “I’m trying a new technique where I release frustrations by getting whatever paint catches my eye and throwing cups of it without much thought.” He shrugs, nothing particularly of note, but you do notice the amount of emotion that is in the piece.

“It’s not an elegant piece, but for a collection centered around passion I find it missing raw emotion.” He runs his hand through his face, frustration taking over his features, something you noticed early on was his emotions were closely tied to whatever art was around him, it seems as though the frustration in this one was affecting him at this moment.

“Yes, the human form and sex are great subjects, but pure, raw emotion is hard to capture.” He mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. “So, that’s why I invited you here. Tell me, as someone who’s written longing, despair, and everything in between. How does this make you feel?”

You pause and take in his words, turning back to the canvas and trying to soak in the colors, the shapes, and the emotion behind this piece. Yes, frustration is here. Yes, anger is here. But how does it make you feel?

“It makes me feel like I’m missing out on something.” You say simply, your stomach sinking just thinking about what that might entail. Minghao has a genuine look of shock for the first time since you’ve met him. His head tilted to give his attention to you fully.

“Really? Interesting. That’s the first time I heard that about this piece specifically.” He said with a lopsided grin, seemingly getting a new stroke of genius with your answer. He looks back at the canvas too, shoulders shaking from his restricted laughs. Your answer seemed to entertain him a lot. That much you can figure out, but you can never be sure what goes on in the mind of Xu Minghao.

Just then, your phone starts to ring, you only know one person who would call you at this hour—your Husband. You watch as the expression on Minghao’s face falls, face contorting into something short of a scowl for a split second before settling on his usual cool neutral expression. It was so quick that you barely missed the change, it happened so quickly that you decided it was all in your imagination as you ran to answer the phone.

You pick up the phone, “Hi honey-” You were cut off by your husband speaking,

“Get home, it’s getting late and you haven’t started dinner yet.” He said simply, before promptly dropping the call.

You stand there, the line going dead as you try to hold back tears. You take a deep breath, too afraid to show your face to Minghao in case tears were about to fall from your face. Grabbing your coat, you turn to face the door.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I have to get home now,” you said, your voice a little shaky, as you roughly opened the door.

You were out of his sight as Minghao stood alone in his studio, pondering. As silence took over the space, a dark smirk on his face.

'How long before you break?' he wonders.

The next time you and Minghao meet, you’re sitting on a park bench watching the autumn leaves dance to the silent song in the wind. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you hear leaves crunch beside you, seeing the tail of Minghao’s long coat swaying in the wind.

He sees you, a smile spreading across his face, his long hair almost covering his face. His fast-paced walking makes the leaves crunch under his weight rhythmically. You think that he looks beautiful under the soft brightness of the autumn morning, only ever seeing him in the harsh rays of high noon or the constant humming of fluorescent lights.

You feel the heat radiating off his body through your and his coats as he sits next to you on the park bench. “Beautiful morning, the view is exquisite.” He says, looking directly at you. You giggle at this, he’s always been such a charmer ever since you met him. You peel the notebook from your lap, “I’m no artist, but the park is too gorgeous this time of year to not at least try to capture on paper.” you say as you open it to show him a relatively crude sketch of the scenery.

“Oh? This feels like a threat to my career.” He says with a chuckle, “But, genuinely, this is an amazing sketch. Are you sure you aren’t an artist?” You think you could get used to how relaxed you were around Minghao, conversations with him flowed so easily, it reminds you of the times your husband used to be invested in you as a person. Perhaps it was easier to compare the thrill of meeting a new person with feeling the start of a romantic spark, it was a dangerous game to play with him.

“No, I’m not, but I can appreciate a masterpiece when I see one.” You say, this time looking at him. He notices this and laughs at the fact that his joke is being used against him. He closes the notebook, handing it to you to put in your tote bag.

“The weather is perfect for a walk, care to join me?” He said, offering his hand for you to take. You accept the offer, the warmth of his palm being something to ground you on such a dreamy morning. Leaves crunch under both your weights in synch, your hand moves from his to hold onto his arm, and you try not to notice the lean muscle of it or the steady and secure way he guides you through the path.

You breathe in the autumn chill, enjoying the comfortable silence that followed the quiet whistle of the wind. “Your book,” Minghao said, his silky voice cutting through the silence effortlessly, “The one that inspired the collection, I’ve been following your publisher’s updates on the series, and I was wondering if you'd be able to share your progress on the second book?”

“Ah, about that.” You grimace, and you shake your head, quelling the urge to complain about your husband’s lack of sympathy for your predicament. “Maybe I’ll tell you another time, it’s not something I can talk about at the moment.”

He hums, luckily, Minghao was never the type to pry, “I get it, ever the tortured poet you are.” he said in a joking tone, you let out a chortle at this, agreeing that you may or may not be one.

Both of you are stopped by a flower vendor, “You both are a lovely pair,” The old man starts, as he turns to Minghao, he asks, “Could I interest you in some flowers? I’m sure your lady would appreciate them.” He smiles.

Before you can correct the old man, Minghao speaks up, “Of course, could I take three of these?” He said, pointing at the basket of Jonquils.

“Of course, you’re in luck too, these are the last off-season flowers I had in my greenhouse.” the old man said as his nimble fingers wrapped the flowers in some yellow tissue paper.

“I'm really lucky indeed.” He agreed while looking at you, your cheeks warming up at the implication. Minghao accepts the flowers and happily pays for them, gracefully handing the bundle to you.

Holding onto the stems, your fingertips graze over the delicate petals of the bright yellow flowers. “Thank you Minghao, they're beautiful.”

He smiles at the way you look at the flowers fondly, simply adoring the way your face lit up; literally, the yellow from the flowers reflected off your face and gave it a yellow hue.

“Shall we continue to walk?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold again, you hold onto it, the flowers in your other hand. And you let the silence take over again.

Before you knew it, you've spent the entire day laughing and talking with Minghao, only stopping at several vendors for food and other trinkets, feeding the ducks berries, and watching the fish in the pond.

But the day has to end at some point.

You regretfully leave Minghao at the train station, waving goodbye through the glass of the train doors as you watch his figure get smaller and smaller.

Arriving home, you try to find a vase to put your flowers in, setting it down on the kitchen counter, your husband walks in and sees them.

“They're ugly, don't put them anywhere where I could see them.”

He said coldly, you try your best not to scoff at him, still searching for a vacant vase.

Finally finding one, you decide to place the flower vase on the windowsill of your office, the bright flowers contrasting everything else in the room, the dark and neutral furniture your husband got for you.

You jolt, realizing you're comparing your husband to another man.

You expected guilt to eat you up at the realization, but really, you couldn't find a reason to keep defending Haru.

“Could you come over to the studio later tonight? I don't think I should be alone.”

This text from Minghao worried you a bit, you've been spending a lot of time with him recently, you met him 6 more times after he got you flowers at the park, and you never noticed that he could deal with something so sinister.

Of course, you agree to come, your closest confidant in your adult life needs you right now. You wait for your husband to fall asleep in his office, again, before you leave the house, walking to the end of the block before calling a cab.

Arriving at his studio, you already knew the code, punching in the numbers 150526 on the smart lock, the studio opens with a click.

You take cautious steps into the studio, seeing the silhouette of a man on the couch, his back towards the door, nursing what you assume is a wine glass in his hand.

He turns his head to face the door, “You came.” He said, with relief in his voice, a little slurred from the alcohol you assume.

“You called.” You replied. Shrugging off your coat to hang, you join him on the couch. He looked a lot more disheveled compared to the usual clean and put-together Minghao that you know.

His hair is slicked back, some pieces of hair falling onto his face, his tie loosened, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his collarbones and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And glasses resting lowly on his nose.

You look at his face, and you notice dark circles around his eyes.

“Drink, and stay with me. Please.” He asks, no, almost begs you. You don't have the heart to decline. He pours you your glass and you both toast your glasses together.

You take the normal sip and he downs the rest of his, taking in a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach drops at this, anxiety filling the pit of it as you nervously wait for the rest of what he has to say.

“I think I'm in love with-” he pauses, “someone I shouldn't be in love with.” He finishes, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of wine.

Your face falls only slightly, a minuscule change in expression that neither you nor Minghao catch. You cross your hands over your lap as soon as you realize your silence.

“Why can't you be in love with them?” You ask. Your head tilts as you take another sip of your wine. He hums, a smile graces his lips, but it doesn't seem to reach his eyes.

“They refuse to be vulnerable with me, opening up throughout our time together then closing back in the next time I see them.” He says with some fondness, “Also, they're married to someone else.”

“You probably should've led with that.” You mumble lowly, “I see, I know that all too well, wanting someone you can't have, someone so close yet so far. It's suffocating, especially when you haven't felt like yourself in so long, and then this person comes around and gives color back to your sad, gray, life. It's cruel, actually.”

You realize you've been rambling, turning to meet Minghao's eyes, you notice an emotion swirling behind them, something bittersweet, a realization that may change the course of your relationship.

“Anyway, how did you end up falling for them in the first place?” You ask in an attempt to bring the conversation back to him,

“Well, at first it was just a cure for boredom, I saw how receptive they were to my advances and I thought their marriage served as a fun, harmless challenge for me. But I got to know them, spend time with them, I got to witness the color come back into their face and I couldn't help but find it beautiful. That fact that I did that, bring color back into their face, slowly becoming someone again. The moment I saw their face light up with a simple gift I knew I was down, down bad.”

You hum, thinking the person Minghao was talking about is one of the luckiest people in the world right now. To be loved by him was like witnessing Orpheus’ choiceless grief that drove him to save his lover from the underworld, it was like feeling the devotee's dread-filled need to turn around, it was like experiencing the immediate forgiveness of Eurydice.

You wanted to be loved by him.

You both continue to chat and drink, and it isn't long before the two of you finish your second bottle of wine, Minghao offers to pay for your cab home, and he decides he's going to sleep in his studio.

You reflect on the events of that night as you slip into the cold covers of your marital bed, your husband’s side tidy as it was for the past month.

You run your hand over the pristine and cold sheet, imagining someone else filling its space on your bed, as he does your heart.

Minghao added a new piece to his collection, his gallery is still a work in progress and you walk through familiar doors. The very same statue you were entranced by still sits by the entrance, and you see a very familiar figure standing in front of it.

“I feel like this already happened before.” You said cheekily, he snorts at this, handing you a paper bag with tissue paper peeking from the top.

“Maybe this happened before in a dream, maybe we were destined to meet under the judgemental fluorescent lights.” He jokes as you feel the weight of the bag on your fingers.

“What's in the bag, Hao?” You ask cautiously, mischief flashing on his face before he fully turns his body to you, giving you his full attention.

“It's something you might like, maybe.” He said, his confidence faltering toward the end of his sentence. Tucking his hands into his trouser pockets, he eagerly waits for you to open the semi-heavy bag.

You carefully move the paper to the side of the bag, seeing white porcelain peaking back at you, you whip your head with with your face showing an expression of surprise. Minghao smiles, enjoying your reaction to his gift.

“You got me a tea set? That's so thoughtful, thank you.” You say with a smile, inspecting the frog patterns in the glaze.

“You mentioned your husband is leaving for a business trip soon, so I figured you'd like a set so we can have tea at your place. I'll even bring you a teacake to keep.” He said as he pulled a hand out of his trousers, fixing a stray hair that fell from your up-do.

“It's perfect, thank you.” You said, looking up at him, a smile still on your face.

“Do you want to walk around the gallery with me? I added a few pieces since then, and I'd like to talk about them.” he said, offering his arm. You wrap another hand around him, the familiarity of his arm under your palm giving you a sense of calm.

You spent the rest of the day walking around the gallery and chatting, other gallery-goers openly gawked at Minghao. It was obvious, really, the artist is here in the flesh, and he's gorgeous.

Minghao stopped to entertain other guests too, seeing him in his element made pride swell in your chest. His work, and by extension him, is finally being recognized by more people in the community. His hard work and dedication paid off handsomely.

Stopping in front of a mural, you noticed it was a replica of a really old painting. A painting of Ares and Aphrodite getting caught by Hephestus.

“Oof, poor bastards.” You joke, Minghao found this funny too, chuckling with you.

“It’s almost comical how this painting compelled me. I don't know what drove me to recreate the thing as a whole mural, but we both know I'm a little crazy.” He says with a playful groan, you try to hold back a loud laugh by giggling into your palm.

“Well, dear Xu Minghao, everyone knows crazy people are geniuses.” squeezing his arm, you check out the side of his face. His side profile was so sharp and soft at the same time, the dichotomy of his features was an easy subject to study. He's a gorgeous man, too gorgeous for his own good you think.

You both sat down on the bench in front of the mural to chat, and before you knew it, enough time has passed that the gallery was about to close.

Minghao calls a cab for you, and you arrive home in-tact, but not safe.

“Y/n, where have you been running off to these past few weeks?” Your husband questioned you as soon as you entered your home. Your mood instantly dropped, feeling the weight of your actions all at once.

“I'm hanging out with a friend, and it's really not that deep. It's not like I've neglected house work at all. So you should have a reason to care.” You snap back, a little too much for such a simple query. Your husband rises from his seat, cupping your face with a gentle hand for the first time in a long time.

“You’re my wife, of course it's my concern.” He said, just as he was about to make you fall for him again, he said, “We haven't been intimate in a long time, I'm leaving in a few days, so I want to make love to you before I go.”

Ah, there it was. He only ever shows affection for you when he's asking for sex nowadays.

You nod, what followed was unfulfilling and unsatisfying sex. Missionary, a few pumps just to get him off, and he didn't even kiss you.

And obviously, he didn't make you cum.

Your husband is fast asleep in your bed for the first time in months, and yet you can't find it in yourself to be happy about it.

You take out your trusty friend, egg.

The jolts to life with steady vibrations as you press the toy to your clit, relaxing into the sheets as you imagine a pair of calloused hands roaming the plane of your skin.

Controlled pressure and technique only a sculptor could have, his hair falling over his face, and his eyes holding you gaze as if you gave him everything he could ever want by simply existing.

He looks at you like you hung each star in the sky just for him, just so he could watch your skin bathed in moonlight, twinkling like the most precious diamond he could ever have.

This man isn't your husband, It was Minghao.

Your orgasm came unexpectedly, the realization that you were fantasizing about him snapped you back into reality so violently that you ruined your own orgasm.

You huff as you tuck the toy back into its drawer, pulling up the covers to try and sleep off the guilt.

Your husband left for his business trip a few days ago, and you made preparations for your first guest in a while. You finally set up the tea set when you heard a knock at your door, springing up, you head towards the door to look through the peephole, you see Minghao dressed a little more casually, a cap on his head and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You swiftly unlock the door for him, he smiles upon seeing you, tipping his cap, he says, “Good evening, it's a pleasure to finally be invited into your home.” You greet him back, stepping to the side to let him enter. As he does, he takes his cap off to let his hair fall onto his face again.

He offers you the flowers and you take them, “I'll go find a vase for these, make yourself at home, dinner is still cooking in the oven.” You said as you turned back to find another vase.

After finding one and setting the flowers in your office again, you find Minghao setting a record on your turntable, a slow tune plays through the air, instantly making the room feel calmer and homey.

“I didn't pin you as the type to have such an extensive vinyl collection, you have good taste too.” He said, swaying to the music by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

“I didn't feel the need to mention it considering I haven't touched those in a while. My husband hates them.” You say solemnly.

“Well, he isn't here now. Let's enjoy the music,” he said, holding his hand out for you to take, “Dance with me?”

You smile as you take his hand, he suddenly pulls you towards him and you land on his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely as you sway to the calm of the music.

You think to yourself, This is nice, this is safe. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be married to Minghao instead.

You turn your head and press your ear to his chest, hear him breathe slowly, his heart beating rhythmically. This is the first time you were ever this close to him, practically holding him in a loving embrace.

His woody cologne almost distracts you, so seductive and masculine and you almost reach up to cup his face, to kiss him. Before you realize that he isn't your husband.

You're both snapped out of your little bubble when the oven dings, signaling that dinner is ready. You break away from him, already missing his warmth as you set the dining table, one that hasn't been used in a while.

You eat dinner with him, talking about your days and how work has been. It's a welcome change of pace from your husband’s tolerance of your presence. You didn't have to beg Minghao for footnotes on his life, you didn't feel like you're taking up too much of his space or time.

It's safe, secure. It feels like you're being celebrated for existing.

You dwell on this feeling long after Minghao heads home, your stomach and heart full. As you slip into the covers you wonder what it'll feel like to hold him under them, for him to kiss the crown of your head and whisper the three words you desperately wanted to hear again.

You fall asleep with the fantasy that when you wake up, he'll be right next to you.

Minghao invited you downtown this time, various pop-up stores of luxury brands recently opened and he just secured a sale of a really expensive painting; so of course, what better way to spend that money than taking a shopping trip with his closest friend.

“This would look amazing on you.” He said while taking out a dress, it's a color that compliments your hair and skin wonderfully. Minghao always knew how to dress.

“Oh, I'm inclined to agree, but I'm not willing to look at the price tag for that one.” You joke, shrugging as you follow him around the store.

“Nonsense, I'm offering to pay.” He said, turning his nose up. “I'm getting this for you, I'll ask the salesperson for more sizes so you can try them on.” He said, turning to the salesperson doing just that.

The salesperson nods enthusiastically, bringing the dresses to the dressing rooms and ushering you in despite your protests. Minghao only smiles in amusement as the curtain hides your figure, he sits on the bench near the dressing rooms in silence, scrolling through Instagram on his phone.

He hears the curtains roll open, it only takes a moment of him looking at you in the dress to take his breath away. It fits you perfectly, hugging your body deliciously. Minghao almost drops his phone onto his lap, his grip loosening, star-struck by your beauty.

“How does it look?” You ask, awkwardly fiddling with the expensive fabric of the dress, feeling a little too expensive to be on your body.

Minghao wordlessly stands from the bench, looking a little dazed, he turns to the salesperson and tells them, “We're getting the dress.” As he walks toward the cashier almost in a trance.

You're a little taken aback by his reaction, but nonetheless you change back into your regular clothes. As soon as you walk out of the dressing room Minghao Pushes you back in with more dresses.

“Please try these on.” He says, not having the strength to look you in the eyes. You comply.

It took you hours of trying on dresses and accessories to the point that you almost bought the store out. Minghao couldn't get enough of the mini-fashion show you were putting on for him, and it's not like the salespeople are complaining either.

You walk out of the first store with multiple bags in hand, you thought that was enough shopping for the whole year maybe, but no, Minghao pulls you into another store, and another, and another, all leaving with bags (multiple) of clothes.

It got so bad to the point that Minghao had to leave your bags in his car so you could free up your hands to buy more stuff.

You stopped trying to fathom the amount of money Minghao was spending on you, yes, he did buy items for himself too, but he looked much more satisfied to provide for you rather than procuring items for himself.

The car ride back home was filled with way too many ‘are you sure's and ‘you really didn't have to's. But Minghao was insistent on you keeping all the items he got for you.

“I'm being serious, you're a gorgeous woman, you deserve to be spoiled like a queen.” he said, turning to you while waiting at a red light, “You need to visit my studio in the clothes I got you, you'll fit right in with my paintings.” He smiles.

Your face flushes at his compliments, a bright and happy smile stretching across your face. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy with someone. To find joy in the company of another felt liberating, you felt like you deserved this.

Minghao drops you off at your place with your new clothes, helping you get them into your living room like a true gentleman.

“I'll see you next time, Y/n.” He said stopping at your doorstep, annd leaning down to press a kiss on the crown of your head, he took note of what your shampoo smelled like and left. Leaving you awestruck in your doorway as you watch his car drive off.

This studio has become so familiar to you, like a second home almost. Punching in the code was muscle memory at this point, the smell of drying paint and clay becoming a calming scent.

You smooth over the front of your dress, one that Minghao got you, as you enter his studio again. Shrugging off your heavier coat, the beginning of winter creeps closer as the trees lose the last of their leaves.

Minghao just got out of the bathroom, wiping his hands on his paint-stained shirt and apron. He looks at you, the dress, the way it fits on you. And he smiles widely.

“Hey there gorgeous, what are you doing all the way there? You should be over there with the rest of the art.” He says cheekily.

You giggle as you enter the space more, stopping in front of him taking his extended hand and following it, giving him a twirl.

He simply adores the way the fabric flows and shapes around your curves and contours, your skin practically glowing with life.

He fights the urge to kiss you, succeeding for now.

He guides you onto the couch, a turntable sitting next to his stone tea tray on the coffee table. ”Oh? This is new.” You said when you noticed it.

“Oh that? I got it for when you come over. I got a few records too, if you'd like to make yourself comfortable while I brew us some tea.” He said, untying his apron to hang on an easel, turning his back to you and he started preparing tea like before.

His movements and practiced, you'd guess this tea ceremony is second nature to him, considering he always talks about it. This scene is safe, familiar, it's comfortable.

He does this whole song and dance again, you've seen him do this over and over again but you can't seem to get sick of it. It's like you're giving yourself excuses just to keep seeing him.

But they don't feel like excuses, not at all, they're just more reasons why you feel deeply, and so quickly for Minghao.

Again, the both of you talk about everything and anything under the sun, him walking you through all his latest pieces, him plans for new ones creativity vibrating through ever cell in his body.

You imagine him talking so passionately about the future, maybe even a future with you.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you’re holding onto Minghao’s shoulders for support,

and you lean up to kiss him.

Minghao fights the urge to kiss back, he fails.

His hands come up to cup the back of your head tilting his head to deepen the kiss, pouring all his emotions into the simple, gesture of affection.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from his cologne and the wind getting knocked from your lungs as soon as your lips met his. It was electrifying, finally feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close, yet so far from yours.

Oh, you wanted him, so, so badly.

He pulls away first, heaving from the intensity of the kiss, eyes in a daze. Meeting your eyes again, he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

This time he's really pressing into you seemingly drunk off of the feeling of his lips meeting yours. He's just a man at the end of the day, a weak, weak man in the face of paradise.

He came back to his senses once he felt the cool metal of your wedding ring on his neck. Jolting back, he pushed your shoulders back, creating a significant distance between the two of you.

“I, I think you should leave.” He said turning to hide in his studio bathroom to collect his thoughts.

You stood there puzzled, did he not feel the same way you did? But why did he kiss you, twice? Something isn't adding up.

But moreover, you can't ignore the painful sting this rejection gave you. You wanted him, did he not want you? What was the point of trying so hard to make you fall for him when he just decided to back down when he finally had you?

You gather your belongings and leave the studio, the door clicking to lock behind you. The ride back was suffocating, it felt like you left a part of yourself in that studio with Minghao. And you fear that this may be the last time you see him.

You haven’t spoken to Minghao in the weeks following the kiss, your nerves on fire every time you remember how his pillow lips felt so right on yours.

You're standing in front of the mural. The one where Hephestus caught Aphrodite, his wife, and Ares, her lover, having an affair and having sex on their marital bed.

It's funny, looking at this mural. You spent your last weeks wandering his gallery, searching for his shadow, but he always seems to evade you so easily. He's marked you like a bloodstain on a pristine white dress, lingering like fog on a cold autumn day.

Winter is still young, yet you feel cold. So, so cold.

As if your most desperate prayers were heard, Minghao practically materializes next to you.

“Hi. I'm sorry I wasn't able to speak to you for the past few weeks. I'm a coward, a fool to run from you.” He said, both of you looking at the mural and not at each other.

Silence follows, you couldn't look at him, you couldn't speak to him. “Y/n I-”

“This isn't the place to talk about this.” You said coldly.

Minghao flinches a bit, not used to how icy your voice was. It usually greets him so warmly, so lovingly.

“Let's go out to drink, there's a bar that's walking distance from here, if you'd like go go with me. I have too many things to say to you, too many thoughts left unsaid. You deserve to hear them, at least.” He said, remorseful.

You really couldn't find it in yourself to stay mad at him. So you agree to walk with him.

The walk to the bar is silent, unlike your previous walks. You're so far from him, you even refused to hold onto his arm like you usually do.

It's early winter yet Minghao is sweating bullets, he's almost vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass. His nerves are all over the place, he's acting so out of character, nothing like the calm, cool, collected Minghao you've come to know over the past few months.

He takes a deep breathe before you both enter the bar.

A few drinks in and you’re already tipsy, “You know- hic- my husband is being a dick to me.” You drunkenly slurred, “This novel I’ve been writing for over two years now is fucking me in the ass- I- I want to finish it so desperately but all he does is sucks the soul out of me. He’s a giant pain in the ass-!”

Minghao snorts at this, loudly talking over the music of the bar, “Your husband is a fucking dick! Your work is amazing. If I were him, I would do anything to help you get rid of that writer’s block, you know, inspire you.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’d do that?” You ask, clinging onto his arm, “Thank youuuu hao bear~ you’re the best-!” You giggle into his arm, your weight pressing against his side. You’ve only known him for three months at this point, but his ideas and influence on your work improved your writing and motivation drastically.

“Hao bear? That’s new, you’ve only known me for- what? 3 months? You’re already calling me nicknames!” He holds the back of your head gently, pressing his forehead onto yours, “I should give you a nickname too… Starlight, how does that sound?” At this point, you tune out every other sound other than the sound of his voice and the pounding of your heart.

This man had you in a chokehold the moment you met him, you were fucking doomed from the start.

“Starlight? Yeah, I like it more than a little bit.” You say softly, your words almost getting lost in the noise of the bar.

“Let’s move to somewhere quieter, yeah? Tell me more about your work. We can head to my place to settle down for a bit.” There it is, the same dark, barely there smirk that plagues your stomach with butterflies.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Arriving at Minghao’s place, you take a quick look around his apartment. Everywhere you look is a pop of color, bold splotches of vibrant hues making the place look like it was pulled straight out of the 80s, “Hao, your place is amazing, the furniture brings me so much joy~” You giggle a bit, sitting down at the plush red velvet couch shaped like a seashell.

“Thanks! Most of the furniture is thrifted from retro thrift stores, I like this style more. It brings so much personality to the space.” He passionately talks about them, “Do you want anything to drink? I have water, juice, and beer here.” He says, rummaging through his fridge.

“Oh, just water, please.” You say you have a feeling that you need to at least sober up for whatever the night brings.

He takes two glasses of water and places them down on the coffee table. It’s the only piece in the entire house that is a neutral color, a fine hardwood. You couldn’t tell what it was at a glance, not that it was important anyway.

“So, let’s talk about this book that you’ve been struggling to write now. Could you tell me what it’s about?” He asks, taking a swig of his water, you stare at his side profile while he does, sharp yet delicate features, his Adam’s apple bobbing from his drink.

Bro’s so majestic.

“Well, it’s about an artist who’s losing passion for his work, told from the perspective of his lover. It’s a spicy romance, with, in my opinion, a correct amount of sex scenes-”

“Give me a percentage of how much of it is smut.” Minghao interrupts you,

“Like… 75 percent?” He snorts at this, “Anyway, I’ve been stuck on the last spicy scene of the book, the climax, pun not intended,” You take a swig of your water, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t have experience writing that sort of thing, or lack experience in sex either, but my sex life’s been such a drag with my husband being gone for long periods and-”

Minghao interrupts you again, “And he doesn’t fuck you right, does he?”

The forwardness of his words made you freeze, you contemplated whether to reject him here, to tell him it wasn’t appropriate to talk about this with you, especially about your husband. You know how Minghao looks at you. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that he wanted you, but he never acted in any inappropriate way. He never makes you uncomfortable.

This was no exception. The swirling in your stomach wasn’t because of unease, no, this was because of arousal.

“No, no he doesn’t.”

He leans in, kissing you. This time he's not rushing, no more pushing and pulling, no more things left unsaid. He wants you, he'll have you. That was a promise.

He lifts you from the couch, lips never parting as he carries you to his bedroom, peeling each other's clothes, bumping into walls and furniture. But you couldn't care less, you were lost in each other's embrace and you can't think of another place you'd rather be.

Half-naked on Minghao’s bed, who, need you be reminded, was not your husband.

His hands roamed your sides, the heat from his palms warming your skin, causing it to flush, his soft, plump lips pressing feather-light kisses to your neck. You could feel his breath behind your ear, his hair tickling your cheek.

“How would your husband feel if he knew what you were doing with me right now?” He asks, clearly getting off on the fact that you were in his bed, getting ready to fuck him, a man who wasn’t your husband.

“I hope he’d be disappointed, but at this point, I think he forgot about me.” You say with a chuckle at the end, trying not to ruin the mood.

Minghao gently pulls away from you from that, “What?” he asks quietly, the word almost getting drowned out by the hum of the air conditioning, “Sorry, I know this was supposed to be a taboo, forbidden relationship thing but… I’m angry at him.” He says, avoiding your eyes.

“I know I’ve only known you for a few months, but I never felt this way before. It fucking kills me to think that a woman like you would be forgotten, for what exactly? Work?” He said anger gradually filling his voice. His hand reaches for your face when your eyes meet, thumbs pressing down on your cheekbone. The controlled and purposeful movement reminds you just how pliable you are under his touch. He sculpted you into what he wanted you to be; beautiful, strong, unashamed.

You gently cup his face, still hovering above you, “Kiss me, Minghao.”

And he did.

His lips met yours in a searing embrace, just the force of his passion against yours was dizzying, fiery desire clashing to make fireworks behind the eyelids that fluttered close. You never felt this type of longing from your husband, never felt his devotion being kissed through your lips like Minghao’s tongue was exploring it.

At that moment, you knew you were gone.

Minghao pulled away from you, hazy eyes meeting yours as the string of saliva that connected your mouths broke. At that moment, Minghao was stuck in a trance, his lips coming to meet yours over and over like he couldn’t stop tasting your lips even if he tried. A sweet ambrosia, too saccharine to stop. He’s become addicted to your lips molding onto his like sickly sweet honey sticking to his lips.

Out of breath, he grabs hold of your waist, rolling over to get you on top of him. He reaches behind you, unclasping the hooks of your bra and letting your breasts fall free from it. He cups both of them while you sit up, grinding on his hardening cock through his boxers, he groans at this, reflexively squeezing your boobs.

Placing both of your hands on his pecs, you also give them a gentle squeeze. Minghao notices this and his gaze darkens, passing his thumbs over your hardening nipples. Your pussy clenches onto nothing at this, a soft gasp leaves you as you started to grind harder against Minghao.

His nails started to dig into your hips, his own desperately grinding up against you for more friction. Soft moans leave him as he throws his head back against the pillows, eyes fluttering close just so he could focus on the sensations of your clothed cunt grinding against his cock through his boxers.

“God, get off of me before I cum in my underwear like a teenager.” He says with a playful groan, lifting your hips off from his crotch.

“Right, you still need to cum inside of me.” You say back playfully, his eyes darkened at this.

“Fuck, you make me want to keep you forever,” taking one of your hands and placing a kiss on your palm.

He lifts his hips only enough to get his boxers off, shimmying them off to somewhere on the floor near his bed. You also take this time to take your underwear off, secretly hiding it under his pillow when you lean down to kiss him again.

When you both pulled away, another string of saliva connected you two. You took two fingers to swipe at the liquid, bringing it down to rub your clit while you lowered yourself down to grind on his bare cock now.

Minghao hisses, “Fuck, I can feel how wet and warm you are, sweet christ.” he breathes out a shaky breath as you grind your bare wetness on his cock, lubricating the shaft for later. You moan at the contact, body slightly shaking from the friction of the tip of his cock hitting your clit occasionally.

“God, Minghao, fuck I need you inside me.” You desperately whine out. You lifted your hips up to finally hold his hard cock to align it with your pussy, slowly sinking on the thick girth. You throw your head back at the satisfying stretch his dick was making you feel.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so tight and warm,” He moans, he’s not shy about letting you know how good it feels with how vocal he’s being, he takes your right hand and holds it tightly, pressing it against his chest. You could feel his racing heartbeat under his skin, “Let me keep you forever, please, don’t make me beg, run away with me.”

You openly gape at him from this, You’d be a fool to accept this, especially since you’ve only known him for a fraction of the time you knew your husband, but god dammit.

“Take me with you, anywhere you want to go. I’m yours, please take me.” You say desperately. You’ve never been wanted this badly before, and god, you wanted more, for the rest of time.

Minghao abruptly thrusts up into you from this, tightly clenching your hand in his, still pressing on top of his racing heart under the skin. You cry out in pleasure, somehow the sensation of his heart under your palm elevates your pleasure, making you go dizzy at the thought that you’re doing this to him, and only you.

You come close to your climax embarrassingly quick, the sensation of his cock rubbing your velvet walls so perfectly made your head spin. Your ears are ringing so loudly that it almost drowns out your sounds of pleasure, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Minghao isn’t far from you either, the same dizzying effect taking hold of his mind too. He’s so close to finishing that he could almost taste it, his moans and whines of your name leaving his lips like a mantra, a prayer, even.

“Minghao I’m gonna cum-!” you say frantically, pressing your forehead onto his as he meets your lips with his for the nth time. You swallow the moans he spills into your mouth as you both climax at the same time. His heart still beating frantically under your palm.

“Did you mean that?” You ask breathlessly, “When you said you wanted me forever, did you mean it?” you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Exactly, I meant it word for word. Let me replace the ring on your finger with mine.” He smiles at you.

In the end, he did replace the ring on your finger with his, much more extravagant, and elaborate. Your husband wasn’t surprised at your sudden request for a divorce, since your marriage was already failing before you met Minghao.

Still, time was the ultimate truthteller.

Your husband found out about your High Infidelity around the middle of your divorce proceedings, and in a rage, he threw you and all your belongings out onto the driveway. In the middle of winter rain.

The rain soaked into your skin, cold and icy piercing you painfully. All your personal belongings were strewn all around you, and your soon-to-be ex-husband was angrily slamming the door shut, but you couldn't help but feel relieved.

After all, you were finally free.

You finished your book, it received critical acclaim and it was a New York Times Best-Seller.

And you got to marry Minghao, the love of your life. Who you were happily married to until the both of you grew old.

FIN.

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rooksamoris · 5 months

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Hi, there! :D

I saw that orders are open so I want to try to make my shot.

Romantic headcanons about the Scarabia duo with a reader (fem or neutral) who loves to sing and usually sings love songs to her/them respective boyfriend as a sign of her/them devotion and love🩷💕

Your Jamil and Kalim fics have made me gain a deep affection for those two characters and I love when you include Arabs in said fics, it seems beautiful to me. If my order does not convince you, you can discard it but if not, take your time and without pressure, thank you 🌌🌠🩷💕💐✨❤️Someday I will make some fan arts of your fics :D

💞 — in which they love the sound of your voice.

💞 — kalim al-asim, jamil viper (separately)

💞 — warnings: none, this is pure fluff and romance

💞 — 940 words. i hope i did your request justice!! also, that comment about making fanart made me squeal. i genuinely think that is the best compliment someone can get <333

KALIM AL-ASIM.

🩷 — Listen, the moment you are singing, he is joining you.

🩷 — It reminds him of the festivals in the Scalding Sands, where people sang for everything—pride for their homeland, love for their darlings, the taste of the cuisine—nearly everything was taken and made into a song.

🩷 — But the moment you start singing about love to him, sevens he feels so special. It motivates him to do just about everything. Music is such a perfect love language, and he could just die happily hearing you weave lyrics about romance to him. It makes him feel like your muse.

🩷 — Whenever he is sitting on a divan pillow, staring down at the work he does not want to complete, he glances over to you, carmine eyes all pleading. He just wants you to sing something so he can feel motivated to do his work again.

🩷 — The songs in his homeland are played more classically, with the oud (middle eastern lute) and the tablah (hand drums), and he loves that, but he is more pulled in by experimental sounds.

🩷 — His pure love for music causes him to introduce you to a lot of his favorite artists and he asks if he can play for you while you sing. Overall, it is a match made in heaven.

🩷 — He invites you to the Light Music Club’s meetings and he is constantly trying to get you to join the club. If you join, he will be extremely happy. Cater would post you guys on his social media with some sort of caption like ‘if he wanted to…’ and the comments are filled with single people talking about how they want to lay down in the middle of the highway—

🩷 — Kalim’s favorite thing is when you sing exclusively for him.

🩷 — Sure, he thinks that music should be shared with everyone, but sometimes he just wants to lock away those moments for just the two of you. Nothing is as romantic as him resting at your side, listening to the smooth melodies that would spill from your lips like the morning dew slipping off the leaves of palm trees.

“Can you sing another song?” Kalim asked, his head resting in your lap. It was just the two of you on this balcony of the Scarabia dorm. Your fingers were weaved into his hair and his golden coined headband was discarded off to the side to give you the perfect access to the white tresses. You laughed, smiling down at him as your hand trailed from his hair to his cheek, caressing his pretty and plump brown skin, “I already sang three songs for you, Kalim,” He pouted. “You, my love, are too spoiled,” you said, light-heartedly. His pouting did work since you began to sing another love song, weaving him the songs of romance that he yearned for so much.

JAMIL VIPER.

🩷 — Jamil, like Kalim, has emotional attachments to music. Nostalgia is the easiest way into anyone’s heart, and he was no different.

🩷 — Sometimes when he walked through the halls of Kalim’s estate, he could hear the other servants singing songs to keep them company. It helped them ignore any of the pains of labor and the reality of their servitude. He used to think it was stupid, but now he hums those songs as he cooks alone in the vast kitchen of Scarabia.

🩷 — If you sing for him, he only wants it to be in private.

🩷 — He never really got to have anything for himself, so whenever you are dedicating songs of romance to him, he prefers it to be in a place where it is just you two. He likes it especially when you are undoing the braids in his hair and brushing through the long dark brown strands for him.

🩷 — Soon enough, he catches onto the melodies you sing and they become the tunes he hums while cooking and cleaning. It especially happens when he knows you are not going to be joining him for a meal. Your songs make him feel close to you, even when you are not around.

🩷 — You once caught him sweeping the halls humming one of the romantic songs you sang to him. His head even swayed slightly to the beat, but the moment he saw you, he blushed and tugged his hood down, mumbling something about how he should make you wear anklets so that he could hear you before you catch him like this.

🩷 — He always had a love for music and dancing, but it always reminded him of having to dull his talents for Kalim’s take.

🩷 — Your singing strengthens that bygone love that he had for his music. It is the one thing that not a single person can take from him and claim he was too lowly to deserve it because you gave it to him willingly.

🩷 — Jamil is so in love. Your voice is like mango nectar on a hot summer day—sweet and healing.

He always loved it when you brewed him tea, singing whatever song came to your mind. It always made him just want to grab you, which he did. Jamil’s arms slipped around your waist and he sighed, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck. He was exhausted after all the work. You stopped singing and patted his head, “Tired?” He nodded and he let out a few curses in his native language, before kissing your collar, “Keep singing,” he muttered. All he wanted to do was fall asleep to the sound of your voice while he waited for the tea to be finished. You obliged.

#💖 — amoris writes #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #kalim al asim #twst headcanons #jamil viper x reader #kalim al asim x reader

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jinx-xxed · 2 months

Text

Beautiful Thing Caged

Chapter 1; Strange sight

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; My first multi-part fic!! I’ve never been able to commit to one before so I’m really hoping I’ll be able to see this one through cuz I have some good ideas for it :]. I hope you enjoy, that’ll help keep me motivated too!! Also thanks to my bestie for the idea for the chapter titles ♡

This writing is based on this fan art ! It made my jaw drop to the floor when I saw it and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Part 2 ⇨

Summary; The First Order Agencies have come across a new, strange creature and it becomes your job to study it. You get far more than you bargained for.

Content; Werewolf AU, modern AU, werewolf Kylo Ren, human reader, scientist reader, soulmates, angst, feral Kylo, like legit feral bro does not know about human society, there’s a part where he eats a bunch of raw meat (I did not enjoy it), Kylo’s being studied in a lab, he studies you too, he’s scared and sad and angry (what else is new), lots of tension, neither of you know how to feel

[Each chapter will have specific content warnings. This story will eventually have 18+ content.]

Wc; 3.5k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“I’m sorry?”

You look down at the sheets that had just been slid to you across the mahogany desk. It’s a thick packet stapled together, the papers perfectly crisp and white. On them is paragraph upon paragraph detailing the new assignment that your superiors at First Order Agencies have decided to place on you. Your hands reach forward from where they’d been resting in your lap to tentatively flip through the packet, your brows creasing further with each page.

Studying an unknown creature. Studying something that nobody knows what it is or where it came from, something that the only thing people know about it is that it’s incredibly dangerous. You briefly scan over the pages dedicated to the description of the creature—black fur, wolf like appearance, supposedly male, huge, able to take on a humanoid state. You see that in place of a true name, it’s been given the label of OB-2637. Written at the bottom of the description is “BEWARE CREATURE, WILL ATTACK. STAY IN DESIGNATED OBSERVATION BAYS FOR SAFETY.” Lovely. There’s no pictures attached so your imagination is free to run wild, thinking up an image of a hulking beast with drool covered teeth and ragged fur covering its misshapen body. You shudder.

“Wh- why is this being given to me?” You ask, looking up at the one who’d given you the papers. He goes by Hux and he oversees your sector of the Agency, making him your boss. “I’m just a nature observationalist. I feel like I’m not-“

“You’re the most qualified one in this facility.” Hux states. He sounds uninterested, his shrewd face giving no insight as to what he thinks about the Agency housing a dangerous, unknown creature of unknown origin. “We agreed that with your knowledge about the “wild world”, it would probably give you the most insight on this… thing. You’ll be paid generously for your work based on your findings if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

You’d seen the amount they were offering you, it was certainly nothing to scoff at. You shake your head. “No, that’s not what I’m concerned about. I’m more concerned that this seems above my level. I’ve never dealt with something like this since I’ve been here.” You say. You’ve been with the First Order for almost five years now. It’s a government agency that’s kept tightly under wraps, mostly because the Agency deals with things that they think “normal civilians” shouldn’t be made aware of. It took a lot for you to get accepted into this position.

Hux leans forward against his desk, the dimness of his office making his features look even crueler than usual. “If you really doubt yourself that much, then you don’t have to take this job. But I’ll make it known that if you turn this down, it’ll go to the next best person and I don’t think they’ll be as… compassionate towards this thing as you will be.” He says. His tone is so heavy, so serious. It holds so many implications that have your palms sweating. He shrugs as he relaxes in his chair. “I’m sure they’ll probably end up killing it. Theres a lot of people in this place that want to dissect that creature piece by piece. So it’s not just about your qualifications, it’s about how you’ll decide to treat another living being—that’s why you were the first pick.“

You swallow and your spit almost gets stuck on the lump in your throat. You look again at those papers, at what will be waiting for you in those lower levels of the facility. You think over Hux’s words, you roll them around in your mind in the same way you’d roll something in your mouth to get the taste of it. You know that he’s right, that anybody else would kill this creature just to get a thorough look at it. Anything in the name of science, after all. You know the people working in the First Order are not kind-hearted, most are cruel and cold. You have few friends in this place, even after the amount of time you’ve spent here. Your answer becomes clear to you. You don’t want this creature to die.

“I’ll take the assignment.” You say at last, steeling yourself so you don’t lose your nerve. You can do this. Surely it won’t be that hard? You just need to observe some type of animal, find out what it is, where it came from. That’s your whole job. You do that every day.

“Good choice.” Hux nods. He digs something out of a drawer. “Sign this and then be on your way.” He gives you an NDA, one that’s specifically catered towards this assignment. You’ve signed countless versions of these since you started working for the Agency, so it’s nothing new as you fill out everything you need to. You think nothing of them now, it’s not like you have people in your life to tell about your job anyway.

Hux takes the paper once you’re done. “Floor twenty. Your badge has already been approved for access. You shouldn’t experience any trouble.”

That’s a stern dismissal if you’ve ever heard one. You stand from your chair, smoothing out your lab coat as you go. You grab the packet of information; it’s not much but it at least gives you something to go off of. “Thank you, sir.” You say. Hux merely grunts in acknowledgment, already buried in the paperwork for something else.

You leave his office, taking a deep breath when the door shuts behind you. Holding the packet close, you walk through the halls of the building’s upper floor. When you think about it, the above-ground section is like a mask to the public eye. It’s all of the boring offices, gaudy paintings littering the walls, carpeted floors. It’s unassuming and basic and meant to hide what lays below the surface: all of the Agency’s experiments, their studies, and their classified documents stuck behind vaults. That’s where most of the employees are, that’s where your own office is. There’s few people upstairs and the ones you do manage to pass don’t even spare you a glance on your way to the elevator.

One of the two elevators opens a second after you press the button. You step inside and hit the button for the twentieth floor. The door closes without anyone else inside, leaving you blissfully alone. There’s no classic elevator music that plays, there’s only the sounds of the machine working to keep you company. Your hands frequently change position on the papers you hold to try and keep from drenching one spot in your sweat.

It feels like an eternity before the elevator begins to slow and there’s a resounding ding as it reaches the twentieth floor. The second lowest floor in the facility; you can’t even imagine how far underground you are. The hall you enter in to is pure white, fluorescent lights bouncing off the walls and floors. There’s nobody you can see and you know based on your packet that the only other people involved in this assignment are guards and a few nutritional specialists. You’re on your own.

The halls of this floor hold few doors, instead mostly housing holding cells and laboratories. You use your badge when you come upon authorized entryways, that unsmiling face in your picture getting you the beep you need to pass through. You’re halfway to where you know you need to go when you begin to hear strange noises. Clinking chains, the faint snarl. Sounds of struggling. You really should just turn back, try to ignore all of this and pretend you don’t care about the fate of some defenseless animal. You know you can’t though, so you keep walking on unsteady legs.

There’s one final door you need to pass through, one last door keeping you from a sealed fate. You feel the sense of foreboding prickling the back of your neck, your shirt sticks to your spine from your perspiration. The door beeps in response to your badge, your hand hesitates on the handle. It opens into a massive room, snow white in color with a black rim. Theres very little inside it; there’s data pads built into the walls for recording observations and there’s a one way window stretching along the right wall. You don’t know who would be on the other side. The room is separated by a massive pane of reinforced glass, stretching from floor to ceiling, spanning the entire length.

You finally see what that glass is meant to keep in and everything seems to freeze. That’s no animal, no creature, or bizarre thing. It’s nothing like what they made it seem. That’s a human. A human male kept in a cage, thoroughly restrained. His body is just the same as yours, albeit much larger and far more muscled, but he has the same limbs, the same fingers and toes. No paws or excess fur, just sharp black nails at the ends of his fingers that have put claw marks in the floor. His attention turns to you then and you see his face. He’s what you’d describe as beautiful; his features are both sharp and soft at the same time, his nose strong, and his pale skin dotted with moles and freckles. His face is framed by waves of black hair and he’s captivating, even with blood smeared on his chin and neck.

Your eyes meet. God, his eyes. They’re human, they’re round and the pupils are blown out with his emotions. Even from your place at the other side of the room you can tell the honey brown color and you can see the fear swimming in them. If you didn’t dismiss it as you being crazy, you’d say there was some sort of spark that flared between you both for some inexplicable reason. Like there was a sort of understanding rooted deep down that you didn’t understand. Then it was gone.

And then the frozen second snaps and everything is thrown back into motion. His expression shifts into something angry and fierce and he makes an attempt to lunge at you. His movements are so powerful, even with every limb bearing thick cuffs with chains connected to the wall, even with one around his neck. He comes so close to the glass, his hands reaching in your direction, those claws scraping uselessly against the floor. You flinch back on instinct, your breathing coming fast and hard. It’s then that you see the ears and tail on the man. They are indeed akin to a wolf like the papers said, black ears sitting in his hair and a large, fluffy black tail protruding behind him. When his mouth opens in a snarl, you see the unnaturally sharp canines that he has. They’d rip you apart in no time.

He tries a few more times to get at you before realizing it’s useless. It’s probably not a new feeling for him. He retreats more against the back wall where the chains are connected, making them go slack and giving him more movement. He tries to shrink himself which is hard with such a huge body, his tail coming to wrap around his feet. He doesn’t have much within his cell—only a small cot and a singular blanket as a bed in one corner, and a toilet and sink in the other corner.

You swallow. You realize how long you’ve been standing there without moving so you take one very small step forward. Then another and another until you’re about halfway towards the glass. He watches you with such intensity the entire time it makes you nervous. You try to take another step before he growls at you, a deep and rumbling sound that has you freezing. When you retreat, he stops.

“Okay. I’ll stay here then.” You say, standing in the spot you’d been in before that last step. This is where you’d begin. Small things to make him more comfortable in this unfamiliar environment; you’d follow his rules.

Seeing no chairs around you, you lower yourself to the floor. It’s cold even through your layers but you don’t mind. You have no room to complain when you look at him with no shirt or shoes, nothing to really keep him warm besides thin pants and that blanket on the cot. You study him in silence, just like how he studies you. You feel confusion over the conflict of the report versus what you see before you. The report had first described a wolf-like appearance that could take on a humanoid form but all you see in front of you is a human man with wolf ears and a tail. Maybe they’d overexaggerated?

Now that a fragile peace has settled between the both of you and he’s sitting still, you’re able to see the scar running along the left side of his face. It travels all the way down his collarbone before finally stopping. It’s deep and jagged and you can only imagine how badly it must’ve hurt; he’s lucky he didn’t lose his eye from it. Looking over him, you see he has a multitude of scars all over the planes of his body. He’s a fighter, then. With the way he’d lunged at you as soon as you entered, it doesn’t take you by surprise.

You clear your throat from your nerves. You begin with stating your name. You don’t even know how much he can understand you or if he can at all but you continue anyway. “I’m not here to hurt you. I know you probably don’t trust that, and I understand. We just want to know more about you.” You say. You inwardly cringe because this all sounds so weird to say to another human. You clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. “If you can speak, it would be a huge help if you’d explain some things about yourself. What’s your name and age? Where’d you come from?”

You don’t get a response—you didn’t expect one. He sits there with his knees up to his chest and his face partially hidden by his hair just staring at you, his eyes so wide and telling that it’s hard not to meet that stare. This is how it’ll be then. That’s fine, you’re used to sitting in one spot for hours and watching for an animals every minuscule movement. That’s what you end up doing, merely watching him and studying his body. Every twitch of the finger, every tense of the muscle is something you keep note of. It’s a good way to get a basis of information about what you’re studying so you always have something to compare to. You log everything in your mind for now, thinking how you’ll need to remember your laptop for next time.

There’s a sudden noise that leaves both of you startled. You sit up straighter and his ears perk up as a door to the right inside his cell opens. His wolf ears flatten back against his head and he scoots farther from the door, his chains clinking with the movement. You watch curiously as a human-shaped, somewhat janky robot enters with a plate balanced in its hands. You never see much of the Agency’s robots, mostly because most of them are unfinished and unpolished, but it seems they’re useful when real people don’t want to get near a deadly thing. The robot drops the plate unceremoniously on the floor and you notice with a start that blood splatters. The robot leaves.

Both you and the beast-man look at the plate before he decides to move towards it. You make another mental note about how much he surveys his surroundings before deciding what to do, as if weighing all options and possibilities.

The plate is rather large and holds a copious amount of raw meat, seemingly from multiple different animals based on the coloring and sizes. Blood slowly drips off the edge of the plate, pooling on the white floors. You can’t help the revulsion you feel looking at it as he inches closer, sniffing the scent of meat and blood into his nostrils. His eyes widen at it, pupils expanding, and he immediately takes a massive slab into his hands. His teeth tear into it like it’s paper, those fangs ripping it apart as blood drips down his chin. Despite your disgust, you’re also fascinated. So his digestive system can handle raw foods—like a wolf. I wonder what the layout of it is. What kind of bacteria is in there? You think, pondering over the idea as you watch him eat like a beast.

He finishes most of the plate, leaving only a few tinier pieces that he pushed aside. He must not like the taste of that particular animal. He seems more at ease now that he’s been fed, the worry of whether or not he’d get another meal satiated. He’s unbothered by the blood on his clawed hands and face as he sits back down and returns to watching you. When his eyes find you again there’s a shiver that goes down your back. There’s something in them you can’t place and it creates a weird feeling in your gut that you can’t decipher.

The rest of your day goes by without a hitch. You sit on the floor and study the beast-man in silence. You don’t try talking to him anymore, you’d rather not make a fool of yourself if he won’t say anything back to you—if he even can. He doesn’t do anything, there’s nothing to do in his cell anyway. He sits and watches and at one point he laid down on his back facing you so he could still keep an eye on you. There was one last meal time where you got to see him eat a bunch of raw meat again which wasn’t… great for your own appetite.

Hours passed before the lights finally began to dim, meaning the facility was shutting down for the night. There’ll still be people working the entire time, of course, but they shut down a majority of the power in the unused areas. You sigh to yourself, unfolding your body and getting up with a grunt from the stiffness in your limbs. The beast-man who had been drifting off before is now fully alert, wide eyes watching. You go to move towards the door and he growls at you. It startles you, makes goosebumps pick up along your arms. You look back at him with furrowed brows, confused. “I’m leaving, alright? I won’t bother you anymore.” You huff. This is what he wants so why is he getting pissy? You feel annoyed about his attitude for a second before you remember he’s the one stuck in a cell and you’re not. He has a right to be mad with you.

You sigh again and go to the datapads in the wall by the door. Since you don’t have your laptop, you take a few minutes to input the things you observed today that you’ll just transfer over later. You find yourself writing down a lot more than you thought you would and it makes you feel accomplished, like you actually did something today. When you’re finished, you put your hand on the door handle, ready to leave. But you pause, you look back at him and you know it was a mistake instantly. He looks so sad, so alone and afraid in that large, white room. You struggle to tear yourself away and open that door before you do something crazy.

You shake your head as you enter the hall, the door locking firmly behind you. Your mind feels like it’s shut off while you retrace your steps; back through the winding halls, back up the elevator, back into the main building. Back to your car where you grip the steering wheel with a deadly force, staring blankly at the road on your long drive home. Then finally, back to your small house where there’s no lights on inside because there’s nobody waiting for you.

You unlock the door and step in, a wave of something like loneliness washing over you when you do. It’s strange, it’s never been like this before. You try to ignore it as you shed your lab coat and make a simple dinner and sit on your couch. You don’t move for a moment, your brain deciding that now is a good time to rerun everything from today. That was a man. It wasn’t a beast, not really. And they have him stuck in a cell like that. It’s inhumane, isn’t it?

You find yourself with your head in your hands, groaning loudly as some form of release. “God, what have I gotten myself into?”

#I hope you stick around for more :]#all those fanarts of Kylo with dog ears and a tail finally got my ass #I couldn’t take it anymore #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars x reader #kylo ren #kylo #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x reader #kylo fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo x you #Kylo ren angst #werewolf x reader #werewolf fanfic

92 notes · View notes

ivysangel · 5 months

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I am dead serious when I say that you guys need to start giving writers feedback more often. I have a fic here that has a total of 4015 notes and only 218 aren't likes. So, let me break this down for you a bit.

Of 4015 notes, 186 are reblogs and 32 are comments. Two reblogs, as well as comments, are mine so I'll subtract them from the equation making the total number of notes 4011 (184 rbs, 30 comments, 3,797 likes).

Of the 184 reblogs, 16 are private, meaning they're absolutely useless in spreading and sharing the piece. The remaining 168 consists of 136 reblogs falling under "other reblogs" while only 32 fall under "comments and tags." And of the 32 under "comments and tags," only 9 have something besides a copy of the tags that I included in my initial post.

The 184 reblogs make up 4.6% of the total notes, the reblogs under "comments and tags" make up 0.8% of the total notes, and the reblogs under "comments and tags" with anything besides tags copied from the initial post make up 0.2% of the total notes.

At one point, I reblogged the post, asking if anyone wanted a part two. That's when I got my first comments. The first 6 comments were in response to that, and of the 30 total comments (excluding my own), only two were unrelated to a part two. Which means I can guarantee that I wouldn't have had that many comments had I not posed the question of a sequel fic.

And if I add those 2 comments to the 9 reblogs, I get 0.3% of the total notes on my post that make up the portion of notes that aren't likes, empty reblogs, or comments about a part two. And that's me being generous because two of the reblogs actually do mention a part two.

I also posted a poll asking what people wanted in part two, and that poll got 238 votes. That is 54 people more who voted for what they wanted in a part two that didn't reblog or help push part one.

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people in my notifs liking my posts, but sometimes it's just not enough. It is utterly exhausting waking up to multiple hundreds of notifications and not seeing a single person compliment your work. You guys will like stuff, follow, and then head straight to the inbox asking for more. I know it's been said a hundred times before, but we are not machines; we do this for free in our spare time.

The post in question was written when I was tired out of my mind, and I ended up not liking it, so I let it sit in my drafts. I briefly mentioned it on my blog and was met with one of my followers showing interest in the idea, which prompted me to revise, edit, and post it. It was a gift, as are all fics and pieces of art by writers and artists on this site, and yet it was treated like a commodity.

When people say it's unmotivating they're not kidding. When I had 100+ asks in my inbox, all of them being requests, I felt like I had the worst case of writers block known to man. I would open my inbox and immediately close it because the idea of posting anything knowing the only response would be more requests, was awful.

When people leave little messages in the tags, full-blown commentary, or kind messages in my inbox referencing posts, I feel more motivated than ever. Those responses are what drives me to write more. But when I, and other writers, are being treated like we're here to cook up whatever fantasisies you have in mind, I can't help but side-eye a little.

We wouldn't write if we didn't enjoy it, but the moment it feels like a job, it becomes that much less enjoyable, and then everybody loses. Just send a kind message to your favorite writers every once in a while. I promise it'll make their day.

I would also like to say that as I've written this, I've seen more people like that post. So, there's that.

#i hope this makes sense #it's 5 am and i haven't slept yet #★ just yappin ★

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choicesficwriterscreations · 3 months

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July OC of the Month: Luna Auclair

Please welcome July 2024's OC of the Month: @peonierose's Luna Auclair

Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

Learn more about Luna below

1- In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

I love how passionate and carefree Luna is. She loves and gives without expecting anything in return. She is an amazing character, one I’d love to be friends with (because she’d know some hot guys and could get me a date 😅). Overall, she‘s very sweet, but hurt her friends or family, and you’ll get to know another side of Luna.

She’s just a good soul with good and bad sides, which I love. Luna is sunshine mixed with a little hurricane.

2- Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

There are some things Luna and I share. We both struggle with anxiety. We both have a similar eye color (blue-green) and a shade of blonde hair. Hers is lighter than mine. We both share the love we have for our friends and family. We do share the same taste in guys or are somewhat similar 😅. We are different in the sense that Luna is a more creative soul, and she’s less stubborn than me 😅.

3- What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Luna just wants to leave a good impression on people and life itself. She thinks if you send positivity into the world, good karma will return to you.

To make memories that’ll last a lifetime. A life well lived and one that’s cherished.

4- What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

People who are judgmental of others

Liars

Tourists/Locals who endanger animals (in the ocean and on land alike) and litter (throwing their trash everywhere, including the ocean)

5- If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Less war, hate and negativity in this world. Just live and let live.

6- What is your MC / OC's favorite quote or song?

Luna’s favorite quote is a Hawaiian saying her grandmother always mentions: ‘A’OHE PU’U KI’EKI’E KE HO’A’O ‘IA E PI’I – (No cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed.)

7- Other facts about Luna

Luna got her Bachelor of Fine Arts at the University of Hawaii. She specialized in ceramics, drawing, painting, and sculpture. Currently, she teaches art at the University of Hawaii, but she wants to have her own gallery in Honolulu to showcase her art and show how proud she is to call Honolulu her home.

She actually has a sweets drawer; Bryce always makes fun of her but secretly takes some caramel-covered almonds from Luna’s drawer, and she pretends she doesn’t notice 😅.

Her favorite painting by Lindsay Wilkins is ”Akala Sunset“ (akala = pink in Hawaiian).

8- Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?

I created Luna while going through a rough patch in my life. I was fired from my job during COVID, and so many other things were happening, so I was looking for something to help me deal with things. That’s when I found Tumblr and all these wonderful people. At first, I hadn’t even thought of writing anything, but then I kept having this idea for an OC, and I wrote down a fic, and it went from there.

Luna inspires me daily. To live in the moment, to enjoy life. To spend less time on my phone (even if it’s where all my notes about stories and characters live 😅) and to spend more time with my friends and family. To love pink. Be more positive in life, and not let the bad days win. To simply be more me, my sometimes weird, full-of-energy Aries self.

I‘m also SO grateful I created Luna and all my wonderful stories. Thank you to anyone who’s ever given my characters and stories a chance. I will never be able to express my thanks and gratitude 🥰.

Also, here is a little thank you letter from Luna.

Dear you,

Whatever happens in life, whether good or bad, don’t take it too personally; don’t let it consume you. Just try to breathe out and let it go (yes, it can be like the song from Frozen 🥰) I learned a long time ago that if you carry hate and bad vibes with you, it’ll be like a bad smell, you can’t get rid of, and you don’t want that do you? So be you!!!!!! However, you choose to be, whatever you wear, how you express yourself. Be you!!!! And maybe live close to a place that has a lot of sun and a beach (just saying, vitamin D is good, you know, and yes, the advice came from Bryce 🥰)

Whoever needs to hear this: I see you. You are loved; you are worthy. This world wouldn’t be the same place without you in it. Never forget that!

Lots of love Luna

#cfwc oc of the month #oc of the month #playchoices #open heart #luna auclair #choices fic writers creations #choices stories you play #peonierose

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randomyuu · 11 months

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there's a lover in the story, but the story's still the same

Ahh, don’t you love it when fear motivates your drawing mood? (not really)

That’s what I felt reading the scene that is drawn below. It’s fear for Yuuji but also feeling excited picturing an emotionless teen!Gojou so here I am. Always down bad for Vox’s Goyuu fics, aren’t I? *sighs*

Welp, here we go.

Title: there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Author: @voxofthevoid

Second fic of the series there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Pairing YuuGo, NSFW, please read the tags carefully before giving it a read... the usual drill ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

!!! SPOILER FOR THE FIC !!!

Highly recommend you guys to read them first. Or not, it’s up to you honestly :v

Usually I would gush about the fic but I’ve already done that under the fic itself so I just want you to know this comic is solely carried by me wanting to draw the ticking time bomb called teen!Gojou-post-discussion-with-adult!Ieiri. You could probably guess what they’re talking about :”)

The fear for Yuuji’s well-being started this, but Satoru’s cold eyes kept me going. I can’t get rid of it from my mind lmao

You can say drawing these kind of expressions is my jam (￣▽￣)

I hope I did Satoru’s emotions justice haha

A bit of my thoughts and doodle below. Unhinged maybe, it’s midnight, I got more work to do after this, and my brain cells are barely hanging on. Haha I'm living the life-

I AM STILL REELING FROM THE FACT I MANAGED TO GET THIS DONE.

There are so many things I want to talk about in the process of making this. But after I typed it out, most of them sounded so unnecessary so I rewrote it a few times. I tried to make this as short as possible lmao

Typesetting and sketching are the roughest parts of this project. During these stages, I kept feeling everything I did wasn’t doing the scene enough justice, and it was frustrating. As I planned this project, I read a few doujins and noticed the font types scanlation teams use. There are so many of them, and each helped convey the tone of each image. Felt like crying when I realised I’m not knowledgeable enough to apply good typesetting, ngl. And then the interior design. Fuck, the frustration is so real. I am absolutely clueless about this kind of thing. Tracing lots of references because I have no perception of space makes me feel even worse. I knew first times rarely create a masterpiece, but I was not satisfied with my accomplishment and the feeling of failing to fulfil my own expectations hurt.

BUT.

Thank goodness most of the things I need to draw are Shouko, Yuuji and Satoru. Because dear g o d drawing them healed me. I found so much comfort in drawing Shouko’s long hair and Satoru’s eyes and drowning Yuuji in an oversized hoodie. The comfort zone of character drawing never feels so real lmaooo

Drawing them was so effective that I can look back at the backgrounds with acceptance. Hey, I did it! Not perfect just yet, but I did it!

Haha I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know if it’s in a good way or a bad way. Guess I do have one or two screws loose.

Only for Yuuji lmao

(nah I just need sleep, or cooling down from the rush of having finished this)

It might come off as a surprise if you’ve only seen my art on Tumblr, but I’ve always preferred to draw feminine-leaning ladies. I’ve always loved drawing their curves, whether it’s the figure, the clothes, or the (long) hair. But I’ve grown to like drawing masculine gentlemen as well with their sharp edges and straight lines, and now my ladies start to look more androgynous lmao

Anyway, I was pretty stoked to be able to draw adult!Ieiri! I… I kind of miss drawing long hair so here have some more before you go on your day ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

#yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk-ship #五悠 #goyuu #goyu #5u #gojou x yuuji #I'll see you sometime later #if real life lets me haha #:")

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lizaluvsthis · 3 months

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Do you have anyidea of a fic for marware instead of art? I am genuinely asking since theres not much fluffy fics for them both

...

There is one- Tho it does feel a bit embarrassing to show but I guess- it's time.

This fic idea I have on mind is a bit complicated per say when it comes to "understanding your enemy" type of thing.

But then again I don't have the motivation to write a fic for them but just a silly idea-

☆★☆★

Title- ~Strawberries and Cigarettes~

(A song inspired by Troye Sivan)

This is a kind of story where Mario has a 'crush' on PV because- (he's a tv- and we all know how Mario acted when he's with his beloved tv-)

So wherever the tall man goes, Mario is there to follow him around. Tho this did bother PuzzleVision. He tried many times by ignoring/pushing/shoving Mario away.

But instead of him backing away, he gets even closer to him.

Pv didnt understand at first to why Mario kept following him until- he decided to ask the fat italian himself. Mario responded with a shout saying "go out on a date with me!" Pv gives him strange looks as to why Mario is asking him out on a date.

Yet he didn't understand the man so much that he thought it was a joke, thought it was an act played for a film. Mario got a bit angry and told him it wasnt an act- and that he's telling the truth of taking him out.

Pv did try to tell Mario that he wasnt interested to his 'kind of liking' since they're both different with each other.

Mario said he "didn't care" no matter what pv did even back there when he gave smg4's crew a hard time. Pv mentioned about being the antagonist from smg4, as where Mario just says he's forgiven.

Pv laughed as a result (since he didn't need forgiveness) Mario slowly admittted that- he did some things-

(like how you portray a character doing something bad by accident and not mean to do it on purpose to which they thought it was a good thing)

Mario didnt understand why pv didn't have interests between love or having a type- as pv briefly mentioned part of his past that

"no one seemed to be interested in me" or "no one finds me interesting" to the way Mario felt bad.

Mario too also opened up a part of his past, the mentions of "abandonment" and "being left out by friends" is what Pv heard by the fat italian himself.

Pv finally understood- that maybe they're both not so different as he think they are. (That doesnt mean he's still going out with him tho-)

By now, Puzzles and Mario are both standing there just waiting for a minute by to be met with an awkward silence.

Pv mustve understand now that maybe Mario isnt as bad as he think he is, even with how much they're in a different type of situation on dealing one thing. It matched them.

Mario breaks the silence asking puzzles if he'll go out with him. Pv didnt say yes, but did consider on thinking about it.

(Maybe get to know him a bit more? Maybe avoid the fact that he'd use him for something to get whats earned?)

He puts his face closer to Mario's telling him bout the stuff they both opened (about the past-) keeping things a secret- Mario couldnt help but stare at his face feeling admiration.

And on the second thought- his secret was safe. Mario gave him a thumbs up and Pv backed away standing straight. He proceeded with a bye bye and so as Mario too.

Mario waved him a goodbye and thinks through all of the thoughts inside his head.

Both walked opposite directions but thought of the same things that happened, being open, sharing glances, awkward silence and even- with that "asking-out-for-a-date" is hard to think of.

They will think about it- and plus-

To add more of that fluff- lets put up the scent.

To puzzles he thought about Mario of how he had strawberry scent, even if its supposed to be one of those pasta sauce. But it didnt.

To Mario, the thoughts about Puzzles made him think. How he smelled that type of smoke that has always been familiar of him. Cigarettes.

AND TO WHY - HOW THEY BOTH THOUGHT ABOUT THAT ITS JUST SO FUNNY BECAUSE IT SEEMS OFF CHARACTER THAT TOTALLY IS- SO PLEASE IGNORE ME BECAUSE I FEEL THIS IS A BIT EMBARASSING FOR ME TO PUT-

#lizaluv #smg4 #mario #fanfic inspiration #fanfic inspo #fic ideas #marware #mario x puzzles #mario x mr puzzles #mario smg4 #smg4 mario #puzzlevision #puzzle vision #mr puzzles #puzzleshipping #puzzle #smg4 tv adware #tv adware #smg4 puzzlevision

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tmntxthings · 2 years

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I am loving your fics my dude!

Just read your love potion fic for raph and it was adorable- we love a soft king.

Could I possibly request a Mikey version of the love potion scenario? Possibly casey ? But if you don't write for casey that's cool I would just love to see Mikeys reaction lol

Keep up the awesome work dude 👏

My Muse

requests: ‘hi, I’m sure you’ve already gotten this request and are probably working on it but what about a Mikey love potion one-shot? But what if instead of Mikey chugging the potion y/n/we do? Have a good day’ ‘I’ve read all your love potion docs for the turtles and if your up for it could we finish off the set with Mikey?’ ‘Mikey love potion, please? I swear I can see him making art of his beloved.’

author’s note: c: thank you guys for all the kind words, here is mikey’s, and maybe in the future I’ll get around to casey <3 but for now I hope you all enjoy~~~~

warnings: nothing but FLUFF, established relationship,

> leo’s < > donnie’s < > raph’s < > casey’s <

—————————————————————————

Mikey was looking up at you sweetly. “Say what?” You said incredulously. You had to hear this again. “I saiddd, could you drink this super special po- I mean tea, and tell me how it tastes!” You narrowed your eyes down at him as he shoved a bubbly pink liquid in your face. “This isn’t what made you go bananas last week is it?” You questioned him and Mikey looked away, his telltale sign that he was lying, “whaaat noooo!”

You sighed, “really Mike I think it’s pretty obvious that this is the so-called love potion” and he heaved out a sigh as well giving up on trying to be secretive. “Yeah you got to see how I acted so I just wanted to you know, be attacked by a love monster too,” he smiled shyly. You shook your head, this was unbelievable. As one could guess Mikey had been the clingiest under the influence of a love potion. He latched onto one of your legs and you struggled to walk as you dragged him around with you. “Mikey puhlease let me goooo,” you had begged and he had just giggled cutely. “Y/n your voice gives me the warm and fuzzies inside!” He’d beam up at you, snuggling his head into your leg.

“I swear you use your cuteness to your advantage!” You had harrumphed, to which he just winked smugly, and you knew he was silently admitting to it. “When this is over somehow I’ll get my revenge!” You muttered and he had only caught the first part. Immediately jumping to his feet and wrapping his arms around your middle. “When what’s over?!” He wailed thinking you were talking about breaking up, and he squeezed you into a tight hug. “Oomp- wait!-“ you tried to reassure him as he continued to squeeze. “The love potion!” You said with the last bit of your breath and he loosened his grip, “ohh hee hee,” Mikey said with relief and you grabbed his face.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you said teasingly as you squished his cheeks between your hands, he looked up at you with heart eyes. “Me neither!” He said through duck lips and you couldn’t help but give him a quick peck. “You got that right,” you smiled softly and he latched back onto you, hugging you filled with so much joy and happiness. Squealing not so quietly at the feeling of your lips on his.

Yeah that had went on for a week and Mikey hadn’t been that embarrassed. He was the most in tune with his emotions among the turtle bros, so he wasn’t shy to admit how much he liked you. Daily. His love language was definitely words of affirmation and physical affection. Though now that you thought about it Mikey had went on an art spree. Saying you inspired him and motivated him to paint and create art. You had watched him work, a smile on your lips as he would finish and show you with a ‘ta-da!!’ He would be nervous for your reaction but you always loved anything he made. It warmed your heart even more to know that every single piece of art he created that week had been because of you. It was so flattering, you blushed at each one he showed you. “This is amazing Mikey!” you would say and he’d gush, “really?! You think so?? You keep it!!” So maybe he liked to give gifts as well! You practically had a private collection of his art from just those seven days alone. His love language was a bunch of things!

“Aren’t you curious???” Mikey said bringing you back from the flashbacks. Waving the glass in front of your eyes as you rolled them. “Curious to see how much I can embarrass myself in front of your entire family?! No thanks!” You said shaking your head in refusal. “Awwwww c’mon Y/n just a sip, I’m sure one tiny sip would be just one day maybe even one hour!” He said trying to reason with you. You smacked your palm to your face, he wasn’t going to quit. “One itty bitty sip Michelangelo, that’s all you get from me!” You finally gave in.

He rocked back and forth on his heels with excitement as he dragged you to his room. “Okay okay okay, one sip!” He agreed as you took the drink from him once in his room. One sip later and the two of you locking eyes, you hummed. Mikey took the drink from you slowly. “Welll?” He said in anticipation. You were staring at him, but not jumping on top of him or anything like he expected. He frowned and ran a finger over his chin, “I don’t get it, maybe another sip?” He asked going to grab the glass from the dresser he had placed it on. But the second he turned away you stopped him. Snatching his hand. And he turned back immediately beaming brightly.

But that’s all you did! He looked down at where both of your hands were connected, and he pulled his hand away. And you let him. “Hmmm” Mikey made a low noise of contemplation and stepped one foot away. And you followed him. “Y/n? Are you okay?” He asked wondering why you weren’t saying anything. “Peachy!” You nodded, and he continued to contemplate this, at your answer and your actions so far. “Wanna order some pizza?” Mikey said at last, giving up on trying to figure out whether the potion was working or not. “Sure, let’s get your favorite!” You replied and he smiled at you, nodding as he grabbed his phone.

He went to his bed, laying down while he scrolled through the pizza place contacts that he had. You had followed suit, laying next to him and scooting close to see what he was doing. When all of a sudden a message came through, and Mikey’s attention diverted to that, clicking to see it was another friend of Mikey’s from his art page on a social media! You smiled to yourself as you watched him type out ‘thank you!’ to all the kind words the person had left. But as you watched the texts go back and forth and the pizza thoughts were forgotten. You had this nagging feeling in the back of your head.

You shifted in his bed, watching Mikey’s face spread into a smile. But it wasn’t towards you, it was to his phone and you frowned. Feeling… jealous. Abnormally so, and you just knew in the back of your real, conscious state of mind that it was because of the potion. You wouldn’t be so worked up otherwise, because Mikey had many fans, you included. He always took the time out to thank everyone and he wasn’t the type to shy away from conversation. You let out a sigh, wondering if he would notice. He didn’t!

You decided to take a more hands on approach. Moving to climb on top of his plastron and put your face between the space where his phone was from his face. “Hi..” you said shyly and Mikey blinked and blushed finally noticing you. “Hey cutie!” Mikey smiled, as he closed his phone, “hungry for pizza?” He joked thinking that’s why you were regaining his attention, he lost track of focus a lot of the time. So he was very used to you bringing him back to the task at hand. “Mmm no,” you admitted, looking down at where your hands rested on his plastron. You let one of your index fingers trail along outlining some of his stickers.

He moved underneath you, unable to stay still as he started to chur slightly. He wasn’t embarrassed but he couldn’t stop the blush, “if you’re not hungry then what’s up?” He asked as his own arms went around you, holding you. “Just, wanted some attention..” you said not looking up at him. He was cheesed out now, this wasn’t like you at all, and it was so obvious that the love potion had done some mystic magic. “You’ve got all my attention babygirl,” and you smacked your hand down on his plastron at the nickname. “Stop it!” You flushed and Mikey laughed, knowing out of all the sweet nicknames he had for you, you hated that one the most.

“Okay okay,” he relented, not wanting to tease you any further, and you mumbled something under your breath. “Hmmm” Mikey said turning his face to the side to lean an ear closer to you. “Someone else had all your attention..” you pouted quietly. And Mikey had to rein in his laughter, you were so cute, “was someone a little jealous~~?” Doctor Feelings, guessing correctly and you didn’t try to deny it as you nodded. “I’m telling you, Y/n you’re my one and only, my muse,” he said reassuring you whole heartedly. You smiled, “good” you cuddled into his plastron, “cause you’re my one and only too!”

And Mikey’s heart turned to goo as he hugged and kissed you repeatedly. Not able to stop because you were just so adorable and he couldn’t help himself when you were acting this way. The potion faded away after the two of you had finished eating some pizza. “That wasn’t soo embarrassing was it?” Mikey smiled, waggling his eyebrows and you huffed. “Don’t ask for it to happen again!” You said eyes closed and crossing your arms as he quickly pulled his hand back away from going for the pink liquid. Maybe he’d convince you another time!

#michelangelo hamato #rise mikey x y/n #rise mikey x reader #mikey #michelangelo #rise mikey #rise turtles #rise tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt oneshot #rise tmnt oneshot #tmnt oneshot #tmnt #tmnt fandom #teenage mutant ninja turtles #oneshot #rottmnt #mikey x reader

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aspiringtrashpanda · 9 months

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✨Fic Rec✨ - Divergent Fist 🍙💍

Buckle up, Inuokko enjoyers! It's time to check out Divergent Fist! If this story doesn't already have you in a chokehold, constantly on the edge of your seat, then it's time to dedicate a whole afternoon getting caught up. Make a tea, grab your weighted blanket, and read the 12 current chapters of this incredible doujinshi.

RATED M. Content Warnings - Canon-typical violence and gore, post-Shibuya incident, sexual content, lots of angst, trauma and related physical and emotional reactions (AKA Toge has no food left in his stomach).

Divergent Fist follows the stories of Toge Inumaki and Yuuta Okkotsu, navigating the world of jujutsu sorcerers, trauma and healing, and budding romance in the aftermath of the Shibuya incident. Expertly balancing the soft moments with the devastating, ArtMop (she/her) is in the midst of crafting a doujin that is sure to stand the test of time and become a classic for any fans of BL in the Jujutsu Kaisen fandom.

To start off, I'd like to be transparent that yes, I do edit ArtMop's chapters and help with the general planning of the series. I have a clear bias. That being said, I genuinely believe that this doujin is not getting the attention it deserves, and I just want to shout my love for it from the top of a mountain. Let me give a hardworking creator some love, okay?

First off, let's talk about the #1 selling point of DF - it is an illustrated fanfic that updates regularly and is accessible entirely for free. What more could you possibly ask for? You wanted more Toge content? More Yuuta content? Well, here you go!

It is worth noting that the art itself, despite being above average to begin with, improves drastically throughout the story. The anatomy, expressions, and details in the last few chapters are breathtaking. With each installment in the DF series, ArtMop improves and improves and improves. I, personally, wait with bated breath for the drop of the next color cover, the next insert art. There doesn't seem to be a ceiling in sight when it comes to ArtMop's swiftly growing skill, and I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for her. If she applies a fraction of the same dedication to honing her craft to anything else in her life, she may become the next president... or something far cooler.

Stunning visuals aside, the story itself is magnificent. It integrates canon world building, mixed with original cursed techiques and characters, so seamlessly that it feels as though this is an actual spin-off of Jujutsu Kaisen. Perhaps an alternate universe where underutilized characters are given a bit more depth (shots fired 👈😎👈)?

The character arcs have been set in motion! We have Toge refusing to acknowledge his trauma. We have Yuuta's sexual awakening. We have a deeper look into Maki's friendship with Toge, and a delightful duo of new first years. And best of all? We have a villain with an interesting motive. It's clear that ArtMop has so much planned, more than we can possibly imagine! We are already starting to see how relationships are developing, how each character manages the aftermath of certain choices differently, and the story is only going to build from here.

Chapter 12 has just been posted on Tapas and Tumblr, and if you're craving even more Divergent Fist content, there are even a couple behind the scenes moments found on Archive of Our Own. Listen, as someone who knows the trajectory of the story, please check out this amazing series. You may be chewing your nails (like Toge) waiting for the next chapter, but I promise you that being along for the ride is part of the journey, and it will all be worth it in the end.

Okay, ramble over! Thank you for listening! Here, have a cute trio pic from the cover of Chapter 8:

Huge thank you to @artmopworks for this incredible work, and for letting me scream about her doujin. 💕

#inuokko #ottoge #inumaki toge #yuuta okkotsu #toge x yuuta #doujinshi #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanart #artmopworks #seriously this is so good #please check it out #editor privileges so i know what happens next #and trust me you want to be along for the ride

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nomsfaultau · 6 months

Note

thank you so much for writing mandatory family reunion. i just reread it for the eighth time. i think im going to dedicate my life to life to reading your other sbi fics until you update again. also; do you have any tips for committing to fics and not leaving them half-finished?

ahhhh that’s so sweet glad you enjoyed! As for writing fics, having it be your special interest really helps. But for more general advice on finishing:

-Don’t stick to just one story. Which seems counter intuitive! But inevitably you’re going to hit a snag in one story. So instead of stopping writing at all, switch projects. Writing involves a whole bunch of thinking, and stuff needs time to percolate in the back of your head. But having a small project to work on in the mean time keeps you engaged in the writing process, gives you practice, makes you feel like you’re making progress, and allows time to work out the other story. I personally have 1-2 main projects, Fault and MFR, and then rotate a couple back burner stories that I work on whenever I get inspiration and fully expect to have very slow progress and possibly never finish. Short stories, one shots, hell even just writing little one off scenes that don’t go anywhere. It’s a way to keep writing fun and thus you’re more likely to continue working on the stuff you’re trying to complete. Don’t feel bad if there’s breaks between working on your main project. Writing involves a lot of thinking and it takes time to do that.

-Devoting time to do that thinking also significantly helps. When you’re falling asleep can be a good time to rotate stories in your head. Could also be if you’re walking from place to place, or brushing your teeth, or other little gaps in the day. Even if you’re not physically writing, it’s still part of the process and can make it easier when you actually sit down to write because you know what scene you’re most excited to work on. Also, talking over your story idea with a friend is a great way to stay motivated if you can get over the mortifying ordeal of being known. You can bounce ideas off them, and other people’s investment in a project can be a great motivator to finish. Like legit a single ao3 comment once stopped me from my plan to abandon a fic. Reminding yourself why you (and other people) like the story makes it easier to want to continue.

-Keeping a rough outline of what you envision for the story can give you a road map to how close to done you are and where to go next. Just like you can hop between projects, I find jumping around the plot time line to write what scene I’m most interested in atm keeps me going instead of writing everything in order. Though, all writers have different degrees of plot planning, so that depends on your style.

-Art! I’m an artist, and while writing definitely fuels what I draw, I find doodling cool scenes I want to write really inspires me to keep going. This sorta falls under the same category of continuing to think about the story and motivating you to finish. -I found keeping a writing journal has improved how I view my writing. Basically, I’ll jot down a bullet point list of scenes worked on that week/month. Writing is a very slow process, so seeing a timeline of actual progression on a story makes it feel like I’m actually getting more out of my head and onto paper. I also jot down what ideas for scenes I came up with since that’s also part of writing, and might include a chill no stakes writing goal for that period, like work on X or Y project, or a particular scene. Sometimes my goal is just ‘write at least one sentence’. I give it lots of leeway, and accept that the muse may just be somewhere else that week. And if the goal isn’t met, no sweat! Life can get busy at times and it’s more important that you aren’t beating yourself up if it’s been awhile since you last touched a project. Forcing yourself to write a scene that isn’t ready won’t result in a good scene or an happy writer. Switch projects, give yourself time to think about it, take care of yourself, etc.

And, legitimately, don’t be afraid to abandon a piece. Maybe you’ll come back to it, maybe you won’t. It can feel disheartening to feel like you can’t seem to finish a project, but unfinished pieces also do a lot for you: they hone your craft, allow you a creative outlet, give you scenes that could potentially be reworked for later pieces, and most importantly were hopefully fun to write! Story crafting is a hobby that should bring you joy, not frustration and shame.

Like, I have stories that will never see the light of day and are just so I can have fun and poke it with a stick occasionally. I’m 100% confident in saying that every author will have tenfold the number of unfinished wips compared to complete works. That’s just part of the creative process: exploring different worlds to find the one you want to write.

Perhaps a fic might never get finished, but in the wise words of Technoblade: “if you enjoy it, it’s not time wasted, no?”

(Now, I think he was talking about murdering people, but the point still stands.)

#I mean besides my novel I’ve only completed like 6 fics out of dozens of ideas #Only one of which had multiple chapters #Well and truly having a bunch of random wips is normal and expected #Muses are flighty write to have fun with it #Ask #writing advice #creative writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers #writing inspiration #something to nom on #ask

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whackacole3 · 1 year

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do you have any tips for new writers? you write fast and your fics are pretty damn good so i thought it would be good to ask you!

omg yeah, i can try! here’s a few things that come to mind. this stuff is mainly for writing fanfictions, but i guess it can apply to books as well?

reminder this is just what i suggest, if you think differently that’s okay! every writer is different.

and if anyone has any more suggestions, feel free to either comment and/or reblog with your suggestions.

(also idk what speed has to do with anything but that just comes with practice and motivation 😭)

1.) stop caring and stop worrying. i know this might sound counterintuitive but it's really not when you look deep into it. once you sit down and decide to just have fun is when your best work comes out, at least for me. writing is supposed to be fun, you’re supposed to enjoy it. if you find yourself stressed and dreading writing you’re doing it wrong. remember to take breaks if you need it to refresh yourself. writing is extremely hard, but i believe in you. just try to have fun!

2.) find more ways to come up with ideas. i think most people would agree that prompts are hard and many people don’t know how to come up with them. personally, i use quotes. if you know anything about me, quote fics are my fucking life, man! you can use lyrics from songs, a funny moment that happened in your life, a saying your parent always told you while growing up, literally anything! go wild.

3.) find your unique style. when it comes to writing, everyone has a style just like when it comes to any other art form. i write in a more casual, organic style because that’s what comes naturally to me. don’t try to mimic other’s styles because you think yours isn’t “good enough” or something of the sort. you can take inspiration, but don’t forget to be true to yourself and your own style.

4.) write how you want. piggy backing off the last one, don’t let anyone tell you something is “improper” or whatever. if you think adding a million commas best suits your story, then so be it! i use dashes, ellipses, and semi-colons like my life depends on it. it’s an important part of how i write and that’s that’s okay.

5.) make sure to commit to it. while it is important to not push yourself too hard and to take breaks if you need it, don’t forget to commit to it. try and write everyday. whether it be only a paragraph or the entire story in one go, every little bit helps. it gets you into the groove, basically! i’ve heard some people say that 250 words should be your daily minimum, but personally mine is 100. so it’s whatever works for you.

6.) don’t expect it to be easy. writing is hard, that’s just the case. you are making up your own stories (with already set in characters or not) and coming up with things is hard! it’s going to get confusing at points, it’s going to get frustrating, it’s going to make you want quit sometimes. this will happen especially if you write longer form content.

7.) don’t give up and always believe in yourself. feeding off of the last one, no matter how hard it is, don’t ever give up. take breaks for however long you need, but never give up. you can do this. and if no one else believes in you, believe in yourself. you are what matters.

8.) don’t forget to edit and revise. you don’t exactly need to go over your work once you finish, but it’s a very good practice. if look through it at least once or twice: you’ll find mistakes that you maybe didn’t notice; you’ll notice scenes/sections that you can elongate to better serve the purpose/narrative; you could find things don’t matter and can be removed; and so much more. you don’t need to go crazy over it, but it’s definitely something you should do.

9.) don’t forget/be scared to ask for help. everyone needs help from time to time, even the best authors/writers need guidance from others. ask your friends to help with a scene/part or two if you need it, if they’re willing ask them to edit/beta for you, and so forth. you’ll never get anywhere without the help of others, you can’t do this on your own and that’s okay. you might want to be independent and get there by yourself, but that will be ten times harder than if you just ask for a little bit of help.

10.) write for you and nobody else. i would say this is probably the most important one. don’t worry about what others think, story telling is for you! yes, you might share it with others (directly or by posting it online) but at the end of the day, it’s for your enjoyment and no one else’s. if you want to write an OC and canon character, do it! doesn’t matter if no one cares about your OC other than you. YOU ARE WHAT IS IMPORTANT!!!

#cole talks #cole rambles #writing #writing tips #writer #author #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic tips #fanfiction tips #tips

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c-e-d-dreamer · 1 year

Text

He Motivates Me (Yeah, That's My Baby)

A/N: Have you seen this absolutely amazing Nessian art from @janearts? Particularly the deliciously spicy one beneath the cut? Because I saw it and it gave me such brain rot (in the best way) that I wrote this entire fic. What's the plot, you ask? There isn't one. It's PWP. It's Nessian in love and happy and having fun between the sheets as they should. And how does this fit within today's prompt for @nessianweek? Well, if you squint, they're obviously warriors in the sheets? Just go with it! ;)

Read on AO3

Nesta takes a moment to tighten the knot of the leather strap, giving it a testing tug. It stays secure where it's looped around the bedpost, so with a satisfied nod, she sits back on her haunches. Her fingers trace down along the leather strap, to where the other end is wrapped around Cassian's wrists.

“That's not too tight, is it?”

Cassian gives a testing tug of his own, the muscles of his arm flexing as he pulls against the restraints. “It's perfect, sweetheart.”

“Good,” Nesta tells him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. When she pulls back, Cassian tries to follow, tries to steal another kiss, but her hand on the center of his chest presses him back into the mattress. “Now, don't move.”

She slips off the bed with ease, turning and heading toward the bathing chamber attached to their bedroom. She can feel Cassian's gaze burning through her as she walks, like warm hands sliding down along her spine, down her legs, and back up again. It has goosebumps erupting deliciously across her skin, and if she sways her hips a bit more to really put on a show, then no one else has to know.

She steps inside the bathing chamber and closes the door behind her with a quiet snick. All of her things for tonight appear, and with a quiet thanks to the House, Nesta peels off her dress and slips into the pieces of silky, deep red fabric. She takes the time to undo her braid from the day, running her fingers through her hair until the strands fall in soft waves along her shoulders and back. Just the way she knows Cassian loves. One last check in the mirror, one last tug of the fabric at her hips, and Nesta grabs the small, black box and steps back into their bedroom.

“Oh, fuck me,” Cassian breathes, his tone practically reverent. “I'm the luckiest male alive.”

Nesta can’t help but smirk as she strides over to the bed. Keeping one hand and the box behind her back, she uses the other to trace her fingertips across her skin. Along her collarbones. Down between the valley of her breasts. Down her stomach. Across her hips and the lacy fabric that sits there.

“I take it you like it then?”

“Like is putting it lightly. You should buy me gifts more often.”

“This I bought for me,” Nesta explains with a shake of her head. She finally pulls her hand from behind her back, revealing the small, black box. “This is your gift.”

Cassian’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, squinting at the box in her hand as though he can figure out what’s hiding inside. When his gaze dances back to hers, the question is clear in his hazel eyes, so Nesta continues toward the bed. She clambers back onto it and straddles his hips, careful that her knees don’t knock against the wings sprawled out behind him against the mattress. Slowly, she pulls the lid off the box, pulling out the ring nestled inside and holding it up in the faelight.

“It’s an invention from Dawn,” Nesta explains, sliding a finger along the smooth surface. “It’s meant to keep you from coming until you take it off, and according to the worker at the shop, when you do, it will be the best orgasm of your life.”

“Quite the invention then.”

Nesta hums in agreement, sliding a finger teasingly down Cassian’s chest. “So, what do you say? Do you want to play?”

A slow smile tugs its way across Cassian's lips, and, as if in answer, his hips buck up until she can feel the hard line of his arousal pressed against her. “With you? Always.”

“And you remember our safe word?”

“Ataraxia.”

Satisfied, Nesta leans down and kisses him, Cassian quickly slipping his tongue into her mouth and drawing a moan out of her. She can feel the way the muscles of his arms and shoulders jump and bunch beneath her palm, desperate with the urge to touch her, to break against the restraints. It has her blood sparking and singing in response, her hips grinding and moving against him.

She pulls back and slips off him and the bed, Cassian less than impressed with the loss judging by the growl that looses from his throat. His eyes are dark, the golds and greens Nesta loves so much almost completely swallowed whole, and his gaze tracks her every movement. It’s like a predator watching its prey, a promise of the beast lurking just beneath, and it sends a thrill up Nesta’s spine, makes her feel powerful.

The General of the Night Court. The strongest Illyrian. Her mate. Spread out and under her command.

She reaches behind her back, unhooking her bra and letting the red fabric flutter to the bedroom floor without a care. Her hands find her breasts next, kneading and tugging until she has to bite her lip around a groan, her eyes falling closed as her head tips back.

“Imagining my hands, sweetheart?”

“You wish.”

It’s a lie, and they both know it, but the taunt draws a deep chuckle from Cassian. Nesta can practically feel the sound twisting around her limbs and skating across her skin, sending a shudder raking up her spine. She slides her hands down to the waistband of her panties, toying with the lace, dipping her finger beneath before drawing it back out again. The quiet creak of wood as Cassian tugs on his restraints again lets her know she has his full attention.

“You’re meant to be behaving,” Nesta chastises, peering over at him from beneath her eyelashes.

“Can you blame me when you look like that?” Cassian fires back, that cocksure smirk of his out in full force despite being the one tied to the bed. “Come on, Nes. Be a good girl and stop being such a tease.”

Nesta can’t help but roll her eyes. Perhaps next time, she’ll have to gag him too. Still, she slips her fingers fully beneath the waistband of her panties, shimmying them down her legs and kicking them aside. Cassian’s answering groan at just the sight of her has her toes curling against the floor. Despite his earlier request about teasing, she slips a hand between her legs, fingers swiping through the wetness that’s begun to pool there and tracing circles against her clit.

“Are you already wet for me, sweetheart? You look like you’re practically dripping.”

“You need something better to do with that mouth of yours.”

“Gladly. Come sit on my face then. Let me taste you.”

“You forget that I’m the one in charge here,” Nesta reminds him, even as she climbs back onto the bed. “I’m giving the orders, General.”

She knows she’s hit her mark from the way Cassian tosses his head back against the pillows and groans softly at her words, the name. It gives her just the opportunity she needs, leaning over and pressing her lips against his neck. She scrapes her teeth across his pulse point, relishing in the way his pulse jumps beneath her lips. Her hands slip between their bodies and slide down his chest, nails digging in lightly, and she finds the laces of his pants, undoing them with deft ease.

Her fingers curl around his cock, tugging it free and stroking just the way she knows Cassian likes. Hard. Rough. Twisting her wrist at the head. When his hips start to buck up against her, the muscles in his thighs jumping, Nesta knows that he’s close. She squeezes at the base until Cassian hisses through his teeth.

“Not yet,” Nesta tells him, pulling back enough that she can smirk down at him. “You don’t come until I say you can.”

“Cruel witch.”

Nesta grabs the device from Dawn, sliding it down and into place. “Let’s put that mouth to better use after all.”

Nesta shuffles and shifts up the bed until her knees are settled at Cassian’s shoulders, until she’s hovering over him. She reaches a hand down to gently brush the dark strands of hair away from Cassian’s face, but then her fingers are curling, her grip tightening, as she jerks his head back and to the angle she wants.

Cassian groans, his eyes fluttering at the movement. “You know I love it when you’re rough with me.”

“And you know I love it when you talk less.”

Without another word, Nesta lowers herself down, Cassian’s mouth all too eager to greet her. His tongue teases at her, and when Cassian groans again, the vibrations send Nesta’s every nerve ending sparking. And then he really starts to devour her. His tongue alternates between long, wide strokes and tight circles over her clit, drawing a litany of moans and Cassian’s name from Nesta’s lips.

She releases her grip on his hair so she can knead and tug at her breasts, her hips canting against his face as she chases that delicious friction, chases the heat that’s already pooling low in her gut. Even without his hands, Cassian plays her like his favorite instrument, plays her with the type of ease that comes from years of being mated.

His tongue starts to fuck up into her, a preview of what’s to come, and Nesta knows that she won’t last much longer. She knows that Cassian knows it too. He can probably hear it from the breathy quality of her moans, and he redoubles his efforts. His lips close around her clit, sucking hard, and Nesta shatters, her body curling forward as release tears through her.

Cassian’s mouth continues to work her through it, and when she finally shifts away, he’s smirking and pointedly licks his lips. “Fuck, nothing tastes like your sweet cunt. I could have you sitting on my face all night.”

“But where would be the fun in that?” Nesta asks, leaning down and ghosting her lips over his, teasing his bottom lip with her teeth.

Cassian tilts his chin up, trying to catch her in a kiss. “Untie my hands and I’ll show you some real fun.”

Nesta shakes her head, pulling back and sliding back down Cassian’s body. “Nice try.”

Cassian watches her through dark, hooded eyes, as she slides down and between his legs. She tugs his pants the rest of the way off, tossing them aside and finally leaving him as bare as she is. She leans in and licks a thick stripe up the underside of his cock, suckling at the head and moaning around him.

“Fuck,” Cassian mutters, bucking up into her mouth. “Going to let me come now, sweetheart?”

Nesta pulls back with a quiet pop, settling him with a wicked smirk. “Maybe if you’re good.”

She gives him a firm stroke before leaving him heavy and hard against his stomach, moving back up to straddle his waist again. A shift of her hips and she’s able to glide herself along the length of him, coating Cassian in her wetness. She tries to keep the rock of her hips slow, teasing, but with each slide back, the head of his cock teases her clit, and each slide forward almost has him slipping where she wants him most. She’s still so sensitive following her earlier orgasm, and the friction has her moving her hips faster, pressing harder against him.

“Gods, you’re unfair,” Cassian pushes out between gritted teeth. It’s a tell tale sign that he’s just as affected, his chest starting to heave. “So fucking gorgeous when you’re flushed like this, when you’re practically desperate for my cock.”

The high pitched whine is escaping Nesta’s throat before she can stop it. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how his words make her feel, how they send fires cascading through her veins and licking deliciously across her skin.

“I know you want it, Nes. Let me fill you up. Let me give my pretty mate the reward she deserves.”

Nesta presses two fingers past Cassian’s lips and into his mouth, getting out between pants, “less. Talking.”

Cassian smirks around her fingers, sliding his tongue along the digits and sucking on them. But Nesta knows for all his teasing words, for all his cocky confidence, that he’s just as desperate, that she’s building him up as surely as she herself is tumbling toward the precipice. She can feel it in the way he cants his hips with every grind of hers. Can feel it in the way his heart pounds beneath her palm where she holds herself up with a hand on his chest.

When Nesta knows she’s close, she pulls her fingers from Cassian’s mouth, using them to trace tight circles across her clit. It doesn’t take much longer to send her over, tossing her head back and moaning Cassian’s name. Cassian lets out a groan of his own, gaze pinned to where they’re pressed together, where he can feel her flutter and pulse against him, where her second release of the night drips down over him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come, Nes. Fuck, I've never seen anything more beautiful.”

Nesta snorts softly, but there’s no hiding her smile. “Compliments will get you everywhere.”

Even though she’s still coming down from her high, even though she can still feel herself fluttering with the aftershocks of her second orgasm, Nesta reaches down and fists Cassian’s cock. She raises up higher onto her knees and sinks down onto him, moaning softly.

“Oh, fuck,” Cassian groans, tossing his head back and pulling hard enough on his restraints that Nesta briefly worries they’re going to finally break.

But she certainly shares the sentiment. No matter how many times they do this, no matter how many times she has him, Nesta doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the stretch, the way he presses so deep that sparks ricochet through her veins. It just feels so right, and the bond between them hums and writhes, golden and bright.

She doesn’t wait. She’s already too keyed up, and she sets a hard and fast pace. Cassian is quick to meet it, snapping his hips up to meet her. Soon, the room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping on skin, the sounds of Nesta’s breathy moans and Cassian’s grunts and groans.

“Look at how you take me. You were made to take my cock, weren’t you, sweetheart? So perfect, taking me so well.”

Nesta knows that she's meant to be the one in control here, that she'd told him such enough tonight, but gods, if there's one thing she's always loved about Cassian, it's his filthy mouth. The things he can do with it.

“That's it. Take what you need. Love fucking you like this. Love having your tight walls wrapped around me.”

Nesta can do nothing but whine her agreement, can do nothing but chase the release glimmering just within view. With every grind of her hips, every snap up of Cassian's to meet her, the heat within her coils tighter and tighter, taut and ready to snap. Her orgasm barrels into her faster than she expects it to, sending her careening forward with a shout of Cassian’s name.

“You’re so godsdamned beautiful,” Cassian's voice draws her back into the present and into her body, his voice reverent. “Nothing feels like you coming around my cock, like you squeezing me.”

Cassian starts to shift his hips up against hers again, still chasing his own release despite the device from Dawn, but Nesta squeezes her thighs tighter around him, her hands digging into his hips and pressing him back against the mattress, halting his movements.

“Nes…”

“Beg for it,” Nesta cuts him off, leaning down until her breasts are pressed against his chest, tracing a line with her finger down his temple and cheek. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

“For you? Gladly.” Cassian tilts his chin up and lifts his head, slotting their lips together in a searing kiss. “Let me come, Nes. Please, let me come.”

“So pretty when you beg,” Nesta teases lightly, the words an echo of what he always says to her.

She shifts her hips enough that he slips out of her, pressing kisses down his neck, his chest, as she moves back down his body. She takes his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head and swallowing him down as far as she can go. Cassian’s hips practically fly off the bed when she moans around him, relaxing her throat further, but her nails digging into his thighs keep him in place.

“Nesta, Nesta, Nesta,” Cassian almost chants above her, the desperation clear in his voice.

When Nesta finally pulls back, there’s a string of spit still connecting her lips to his cock, and she makes a big show of wiping her lips, never taking her eyes off of Cassian’s face. Achingly slow, she slides the device from Dawn off and sets it aside. She prowls back up Cassian’s body, her hands sliding up his arms to his wrists and the restraints tied there, the leash holding back the beast clamoring for release. She finds the knot with ease, leaning down until her lips brush against his.

“Take me,” Nesta whispers at the same moment she releases the knot.

It’s a tether snapping. With a growl, Cassian surges forward. His newly freed hands grip her waist, fingers digging in hard enough that Nesta knows she’ll have bruises later. He flips them over and presses Nesta into the mattress, crashing their lips together at the same moment he slams back home.

The pace he sets is brutal and punishing and everything that Nesta wants. She buries a hand in the dark strands of his hair, wrapping her legs around his waist and merely holding on. She’s half aware of the hot press of Cassian’s lips against her skin, of the ecstasy building between her legs with every pound of Cassian’s hips against her own, of the soft cries of Cassian’s name falling past her lips.

“That’s it, Nes. Scream my name. Remind all of Velaris that you’re mine.”

Cassian reaches a hand down between them, finding her clit with practiced ease and working it in time with his snapping hips. His touch is too much and everything all at once. Spots dance in Nesta’s vision, her back arching up against him, and then she’s shattering. Her toes curl against him, liquid fire burning through her and dragging her head first into bliss. She can still feel Cassian moving inside her, working her through her orgasm and chasing his own, and she reaches a hand up and over his shoulder.

“Come for me,” Nesta breathes hotly in his ear, fingers brushing along the membrane of his wings.

Cassian practically roars, his hips stilling as he spills inside her, his whole body seeming to shake with the force of his release. He collapses down against Nesta, and they both lay there in a tangle of limbs, chests heaving as they try and catch their breath.

“Cauldron boil me,” Cassian mutters, his lips still pressed against Nesta’s skin. “That shop worker was right.”

It takes a moment for Cassian’s words to register, and then Nesta can’t help it, she laughs. Cassian lifts his head to peer down at her, his own grin wide, and she can feel the deep rumble of his own laugh where they’re still pressed together. He closes the distance between them and kisses her, soft and languid, and when he pulls back, he doesn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Cassian asks, shifting his arms so he can brush Nesta’s hair away from her face.

“Never,” Nesta promises, raising her head enough that she can steal another kiss. “Besides, I should be asking you that.”

Cassian hums, his smile morphing into a smirk. “I think we should definitely use that new device again.”

The sound of running water cuts through their little bubble of peace, and Nesta knows that the House must be preparing them a bath. Cassian moves off of her and the bed, but before Nesta can do the same, he scoops her up and into his arms, carrying her across their bedroom and into the bathing chamber.

The water is warm and soothing where it sloshes around them, the sweet scents the House added wafting on the steam. Nesta settles in Cassian’s lap, thighs bracketing his own and his hands a solid, secure weight where they rest at her waist. She cards her fingers through his hair, scraping her nails along the scalp, until Cassian lets out a contented hum, his head tipping back against the lip of the tub and his eyes falling closed.

“I love you,” Cassian murmurs, the sound quiet and just for them.

“I love you too,” Nesta tells him, leaning forward until their noses brush together.

Cassian eyes flutter open again, the bright hazel of them flickering in the low faelights of the bathing chamber. Nesta watches as that soft smile slides across his face, the one he fondly calls his Nesta smile, the one that always sends her heart skipping, that has the golden thread of their bond singing with the music that burns between them. And despite all their fun between the sheets, when they decide to play, Nesta decides that it’s this right here that’s her favorite.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @wolfnesta @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone @books-books-books4ever @tenaciousdiplomatloverprune @that-little-red-head @readergalaxy @thesnugglingduck

#nessian #nessianweek2023 #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #my fic

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