#and then they look down and are like ''oh... I didn't even realise...''

[eyesonlybutterflies]

𝘑𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: idol!Jay x fem!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.6k words

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: smut, needy Jay, sleepy reader, consensual, oral (m and f receiving), orgasm denial, Jay and reader calling Jay 'daddy', pet names (darling, dear, baby), manhandling, unprotected sex, overstimulation, p in v, neck biting, marks, filthy, rough, little bit of aftercare

𝓐/𝓝: Hi guys! This is my first ever post and first smut fanfic ever so I hope y'all enjoy it! (I know I said idol!Jay but it's not rlly an important detail)

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭

The door slams behind Jay's tall, but tired body. After spending an entire day practicing and trying not to lose his mind from the other 6, all he wants is to fuck you into oblivion. His entire commute home he just imagined shoving your face in the pillow with your pretty ass up in the air for him to destroy.

Jay is a gentleman, but tonight he just can't seem to hold it in.

As he enters you guys' appartment, he sees all the lights on, but no y/n. He first thinks you fell asleep on the couch, as you often do whilst waiting for Jay to come home, but when he sees the bedroom door ajar with a very dim light on he realises you've already gone to bed.

Something inside of him snaps. Jay takes pride in the fact he can remain gentle with you. His dirty thoughts often not preformed in fear you'll be disgusted by it. However seeing you laying peacefully in bed, phone next to you presumebly falling asleep sooner than you anticipated, he just couldn't it in anymore.

He drops his bag and makes a beeline to your shared bedroom. He pulls down his pants, not fully, but enough to let out his hard, throbbing cock. He grabs you by your hair and puts your mouth all the way down his dick.

You wake up and in your sleepy haze, you don't know what's going on, but when you look up with your innocent eyes into Jay's eyes, you relax. Jay doesn't move your head. He's just cockwarming himself with your mouth, seemingly calming down with just this.

However, you're starting to get a little horny and want more action than just cockwarming him. So you slowly start moving your head up and down.

Jay pulls out and with his other hand he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up to him. His eyes filled with something you've never seen before in him. He's both seems desperate, mad and horny out of his minds. You think its kind of hot and you start rubbing your thighs together to get some friction.

'Stop that,' Jay finally end the silence between you. You don't stop, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘑𝘢𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘰? Oh how wrong you were. His hand that was previously holding your hair shot down to one of your thighs, holding to one side whilst he lifts his foot to hold down your other thighs so you have no way of rubbing them together anymore.

The shock on your face excites him, 'didn't expect that, darling?' He asks with a smirk. You don't move, say or even go as far as to change your facial expression. Jay is showing a side of him he's never shown, and you actually find it very attractive.

When you stay still like a prey caught in the hands of their predator, he starts to squeeze his hand on your jaw, forcing your mouth open. When you comply Jay gathers his spit and slowly lets it fall from his mouth into yours.

'Good girl.' He says. You're sure you've become the Niagara falls with the way he's treating you, finding it even more hot than when he's gentle and putting your pleasure above his.

Once Jay notices his effect on you and how you've become pathetic and desperate, he grants you a kiss. It's slow, wet and filthy, and you want so much more of that. He pulls back and his hand on your thigh travels back to the back of your head, guiding you to his cock. His tip now completely covered with precum.

He starts both pushing you head down on his dick and fucking your mouth. The only noise coming from your room is you gagging. Jay has to hold himself back, because this view of you, chocking on his cock, not allowed to touch yourself, looking up at you with tear filled eyes, it's got him on edge and he feels like if he lets loose for one second he's gonna explode in your mouth.

After he is pleased with the way you're taking him, he moves down on you and takes off your pyjama pants and panties in one motion. The cold air hits your wet pussy and you squeek a little. Jay looks up one time, with fucked out eyes already, before he dives into his late night snack.

The way he's teasing your cunt has you moaning his name on a level you normally wouldn't use, but with how horny you are, how hot Jay looks and the still sleepy haze you're in has you absolutely unhinged.

'Fuck Jay, oh my fucking god that's it,' He thrives on your moans, he's circling your clit even faster, pushing his tongue deeper in your hole. 'Shit I'm gonna- Ah fuck!' Jay knows you're about to come and right before you reach your climax, he backs up, not touching you in any way, shape or form to avoid accidentally making you cum with any kind of touch.

You squirm and shake and Jay is smiling at you like a devil, enjoying seeing you both already overstimulated and being denied pleasure. When you finally have the strength to look at him you almost want to slap him, he knows how desperate you are for your release and he just fucking denies it.

'That's what sluts get when they go to bed before waiting for daddy to come home,' He says with a tint of darkness in his eyes, as if he can't wait to fuck you into another universe and deny another orgasm.

In your entire two year relationship you've never called Jay daddy, so you're a little taken aback when he calls himself daddy.

'𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.' Is the only thing you can think before he pulls you down the bed before flipping you onto your stomach. He manhandles you into doggy before lining himself up with you and slamming into you without any warning.

The noises you make are pathetic and so dirty and you're loving every bit of this side of Jay. You have difficulty keeping up with everything as he's slamming his long and thick cock all the way into your pussy every single time at high speed.

As you feel your high coming again, your pussy clenches tightly around him with you whimpering into the bed sheets. 'You like this dick so much, baby?' You can hear the smugness in his voice. 'Yes yes, love it aah' 'C'mon baby, say it.' 'Yes daddy, love it.' You barely manage to get out.

'Fuck that's my girl,' is the last thing you hear before you're engulfed by the pleasure of the orgasm, almost screaming his name. 'Holy shit that's so tight,' Jay says before he throws his head back and shoots white ropes of his cum into your pussy. He keeps pumping into you as you both ride out your orgasms.

After you both finish, you think it's over. You're tired, overstimulated and just want to cuddle your boyfriend.

Yet your boyfriend seems to not be done with you yet. Having fucked his frustrations out, he's a little bit more gentle. He guides your hips to turn around so he can look you in the eyes. 'Mmh you did so well baby, taking all of me like it was nothing,' You smile, still lightheaded. 'You ready for round 2?' You nod, not fully realising you just said yes to getting railed again.

This time he's gonna make you take all of him in missionary, kissing you before entering. But the gentleness didn't last long before he starts speeding up. Both of you start moaning in each others mouth, sweat mixing up as he presses his forehead against yours. 'Fuck daddy I can't.' 'Yes you can baby,' He knows you're overstimulated, he can feel your pussy throbbing and clenching onto his dick like your life depends on it, but he doesn't care. He needs to cum again.

The thrusts start to get deeper. He's going so deep he's hitting your cervix. You jolt as you feel him hitting that spot. With your neck so exposed, he starts to kiss and bite your neck, biting and sucking so hard he's leaving marks on your neck. 'Mine.' He says in a very deep voice, almost animalistic.

Your head is in a completely different place, the only thing you are on this earth is a moaning mess and Jay is loving every moment of it. Both of you start climbing to your climax again as Jay doesn't stop fucking you into oblivion and you don't stop being a tight hole for him.

'Daddy I'm gonna cum please let me cum.' You blurt out, not caring how pathetic you sounds calling your boyfriend daddy and begging him to cum.

'Cum for me, angel.'

That sends you over the edge. Your legs are shaking, breath hitching, eyes rolling back. The view of you completely crumbling under his touch makes Jay cum so much harder than the first orgasm. He's moaning your name whilst sloppily trying to maintain his speed. He keeps pumping until he can see his cum drip out of your pussy. That sight makes him almost hard again.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥

Jay pulls out of you, brings you up to his chest and hugs you tightly. 'Sorry baby, was I a bit too rough?' 'No oh my god that was so fucking hot.' He grins widely, very happy with himself.

'Let's get you cleaned up, dear.' You nod as he leads you to the bathroom where he fills up the bathtub. You eventually lay together, lazily washing each other, not saying much but both still riding on your highs and enjoying each others company.

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! <𝟑

[reallaiz]

iv. cay-cay to the rescue! | "looking for (your) attention" masterlist

. . . riddle rosehearts x reader

a/n : lowercase intended and possibly grammar mistakes

when everyone calmed down, [name]'s eyes were already devoid of life. what little energy they had left was used to constantly poke their lunch using a fork.

meanwhile, there was cater who looked like he just heard the most scandalous gossip ever. sparkles were practically floating around his figure.

"woah! i didn't know you like-"

"admire," [name] couldn't help but 'correct' him.

"i didn't know you admired him!", alright it was honestly sweet of him to go along with them when everyone knew it was total bullshit.

they turned to glare at deuce before heaving out a sigh. well, what's done is done, no one can turn back time and prevent what had happened. [name] could only pray that cater wouldn't tell anyone about it.

it seemed like their upperclassman could understand what they were thinking at the moment, as he quickly reassured them. "don't worry~ i won't tell anyone about it," he winked.

"maybe i can even help you!"

he received a doubtful look from [name] in response. while they didn't think he had any ill intentions, a part of them was still unsure about their own feelings.

"it's just a simple admiration, though. i don't think i need to do anything about it," they finally muttered out.

cater found it all quite amusing if he was being honest. as far as he knew, most wouldn't say they admired the red-headed dorm leader, hell, they can't even tolerate him. so, it made him curious how far [name]'s admiration went.

he took a seat at their table, fingers tapping on the surface of it mindlessly. "well, it's not everyday someone says they admire riddle. i'm sure he would appreciate your presence." cater paused for a few seconds, "how close are you guys?"

the question elicited a snort from yuu. when it came to making fun of his friends, he knew not to hold back. "oh, you don't even know... they've never even talked with him before."

...

"are you sure you don't need my help?" cater asked once again once he realised the severity of his underclassman's predicament.

[name] discreetly kicked yuu's legs under the table.

fun fact :

× ace, in fact, did end up paying [name].

taglist (send an ask to be added!) :

@fluffimemes @agaygothicmushroom @astro-stars @onlybrie @bubiblossom @hoshimochicchi @xiaosantenna @toxicm0cha @darcy-a-star

[irasamu]

ֶָ֢ 𔓘 REFLECTIONS ; where have you been all this time? ❞

synopsis . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 meeting a popular rockstar -- your favorite singer -- seems like a dream come true but trying to pick up his broken pieces left you in pieces instead. [ fem!reader x rockstar!chuuya.]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; mentions of panick attack, scene with a near accident yet it wasn't too descriptive, mentions of alcoholic behaviour shown by chuuya, suicidal thoughts, angst and i think that's it.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . updates aren't regular as i am mostly hiatus. same reason if i do not reply to you. it's cause i am on hiatus so please don't think i am ignoring you.

nakahara chuuya is a star.

he took a step back from where he stood on the stage, from the people who were there to show their love to him as his voice cracked. the stadium went silent as chuuya's slip up settled in. the mentioned man widens his eyes as he struggles to accept this mistake because surely he didn't make this mistake right? how can he? he is nakahara chuuya, the star. stars don't make mistakes as silly as this. 

chuuya looks down at his feet with wide eyes as he tried to figure out where he went wrong because it was all going so well -- he was singing, perfectly fine so how did his voice crack? why did it crack?

oh God, why?

chuuya raised his head to look at the fans who were as baffled as him -- not due to his slip up but due to how horrified he looks -- and he felt like shrinking. he could pinpoint just when his heart started beating so fast. 

suffocated. since when was there not enough oxygen for him to breath in? why are his hands suddenly shaking? can anyone else see it or are they pretending they can't for his sake?

the stage beneath him shook like crazy or are they chuuya's legs which are shaking due to the strength in them suddenly fleeting the moment he looked around and realised everyone saw his mistake. chuuya tried to take a deep breath but it feels as if two invisible and insanely strong hands are gripping his heart tightly, restricting his blood flow. sweat beads which formed on his forehead were captured by the camera that have been capturing him from the beginning. the camera also captured his voice cracking in the middle of the song he was singing.

he can feel eyes on him – of his manager, the staff and the fans on him as they all wait like vultures to pick on which moves he makes next so they can all gang up and criticize him for it. he can almost see the news headlines for tomorrow in the back of his mind whenever he closed his eyes to blink, the press will have a field trip as they pick him apart and lay his broken pieces infront of the public.

chuuya took one more step back as he felt his heart was about to jump out of his throat, his hands trembled in panick and fear and chuuya blinked, he could hear a shrill like beeping sound which were making his ears hurt, the many hisses around him told him that he isn't the only one to hear this sound.

chuuya opened his eyes quickly and clumsily grabbed the mic to somehow make the sound stop but his hands only made it worse as he fumbled with the mic. he looked at the fans below with wide eyes to see them covering their ears -- wait are they covering their ears because of his slip up?

he looked behind for some reassurance but even the backup dancers were showing discomfort. chuuya's hastily beating heart slowed down at a surprising rate. the once fast and loud heartbeats were now slow and deep but still equally painful.

the mic slipped down from his trembling hands and produced a loud shrilling sound, chuuya took one more step back before he turned around and ran to the backstage, he bumped into the worried and concerned staff yet he didn't stop as he ran past them, he stumbled as he ran out of the venue.

in his ears, he could hear his slip up again and again as it mocked him. chuuya's heart churned painfully at the mocking remainder which repeated itself after a certain interval of time.

a hand caught his wrist and forcefully pulled him back and chuuya stumbled at the impact even though on any normal day the strength used would be like a child patting him -- that's how little strength was used and how it made chuuya stumbled which proved just how fragile he is at the moment.

"chuuya! snap out of it." he heard the voice and he recognised it to be of his manager's but chuuya couldn't bring himself to actually raise his head and stare at the man for he is sure the man is disappointed.

who wouldn't be? at this point in his career, every little mistake is fatal to his career after all and no one knew this better then chuuya himself so then just why did he make that mistake?

"i need to get awa -- i am sorry -- i can't breathe -- please let me go awa -- i can't do this." chuuya stuttered as he gasped for air, his entire body was shaking with a terror that had his manager weak at the knees from despair to see the once lively and confident man in such a panicked and lost state. he wanted to stop chuuya and tell him to face his fears so he could move forwards in his life but how could he when chuuya stared at him with such wide eyes as if he had been caught in the middle of murdering someone though he did murder someone. chuuya murdered his own self.

the manager looked down, he shut his eyes close as his hand slowly let go of the grasp it has on chuuya's gloved wrist and chuuya stumbled forwards, hurriedly walking away as if he was afraid of someone else trying to stop him. his manager looked over his shoulder to see the star's back disappearing as he walked far and far away.

". . . one day, i feel like you'll go to a far away place and i won't be able to follow you and bring you back." he whispers to himself. the manager takes a deep breath before he walks inside the concert venue to make an excuse for chuuya's abrupt departure while he pushes down on the clouds of terror over his head and heart.

chuuya looked around as he walked with a look in his eyes that made one wonder if he is a child trapped inside the body of a man. a lost child. or if he is a man who is just lost too much in life.

from where the energy to walk came from, chuuya didn't know but it's not like he wants to even know the answer and origin, he is just grateful that he can keep walking past people on the streets fast enough for no one to take a good look at his face and risk recognizing him.

"oi chuuya!" a voice called, a very familiar voice which had the ability to make the unstoppable force to stop in his tracks. chuuya's heart leaped out of his chest as he heard the voice, he immediately turned around to frantically search for the origin of the voice, ignoring the many weird glances people gave him at his madman like behaviour.

it began raining but chuuya didn't move.

chuuya's pupils desperately searched for the owner of the voice among the many people that moved on the streets to find shelter from the rain which increased per ten seconds. his hands were shaking as he resisted the urge to push past the people to search for the person better and he definitely would've done that had his feet not been glued to the ground.

a few middle school kids giggled as they ran past chuuya with their bags over their heads to escape the rain. chuuya's eyes fell upon a girl and a boy among the group who were smiling at each other as they were holding each other's hands, it's as if some magnetic force is making sure his attention remains on them for some reason and when he looked back up, no one else was on the street.

chuuya released a shuddering breath, looking over the streets and alleys for any sign of the person he is specifically searching for yet the disappointment and despair crushed him when he didn't find anyone. chuuya took a weak step forwards. then another. the wind felt strong and spiky against his skin as chuuya ran to wherever his feet carried him, the beat of his heart seemed to cheer him on as he ran and ran in the rain.

the screeching of a car intrupted the melody of the rain drops hitting the cement pavement. chuuya came to a abrupt stop as he shakily stared at the car which he could touch if he just lifted his arm up the slightest bit. mumbling many incoherent apologises, chuuya ran again while the driver of the car -- who could've found himself in a nasty accident had he not controlled the car at the last moment to stop it -- got out of his car to curse at chuuya but he ran before this interaction could take place.

chuuya needs a change. but he is afraid of said change at the same time.

with the rapidly increasing rain, chuuya knew he could not walk aimlessly on the streets any longer so he decided to seek shelter at the nearest place his eyes would fall upon which happened to be a small but cozy looking restaurant which had a bar in it -- just what chuuya needed at this moment. he slowly took steps towards the restaurant and entered it. the immediate feeling of being hugged by the shelter of the restaurant which shielded him from the harsh raindrops.

what one find solace in can also be destructive and no one knows that better then chuuya nakahara. sometimes he feels as if he is an omen of bad luck. he wonders just how long it'll take for everyone around him to turn their backs to him and leave, not wanting to risk their future by being with or near him and when that time comes, all chuuya will do is watch silently with forbearance and acceptance.

as chuuya further walked in the restaurant which had no diners given the weather outside and the time, his eyes slowly racked over the interior and decorations of the restaurant before he looked forwards to see a bar at one side and instant relief entered his body upon the sight of the many bottles of different kind of alcohols which glimmered when the lights reflected on them. it's as if they are asking chuuya, no, luring him in and chuuya neither had any resistance nor wanted to have any to fight against the urge as his feets dragged him closer and closer to the bar, eyes dancing from one bottle to another to deduce which one will be the most effective in making him forget the memories of today.

chuuya stopped infront of the counter and looked at the sides to catch sight of a bartender only to find you sitting on a stool at one corner of the bar. you had earphones in your ear to listen to songs while watching the rain pouring down outside while with the other you tapped to the rhythm of the song on the counter, a small smile was on your face and for some reason chuuya didn't have the heart to disturb you when you looked so peaceful.

he blinked as he stared at you, your chin was resting on your palm as half of your face was turned to stare out of the windows but the smile on your face was what intrigued chuuya because he wanted to smile too, to look so carefree as if the sorrows which clinged to him by the shoulders didn't matter. he wanted to smile in a way which would make others forget of their problems for even a second or two -- like the way your smile is making him feel.

chuuya tilted his head to get a better glimpse of your face but at the same time you tilted your head to look at him too and your reactions mirrored one another's -- eyes widened slowly in surprise as he looked away in embarrassment at having being caught staring at you while you plucked the earphones out of your ear and immediately stood up to bow to him.

your heart beat fastened as you raise yourself to look at him again because surely the chuuya nakahara isn't standing infront of you, is he? your hands are itching to pat your hair and make sure you look presentable while also simultaneously wanting to tug down at your skirt to make sure you don't look messy in his presence because it's chuuya nakahara who is standing infront of you.

"what can i help you with today sir?" you cheered internally at how composed your voice sounded as you showed your best polite smile to him and you hope it isn't obvious how much you want to have a good impression on him as this is a once in a life time chance after all.

he nodded as if he suddenly realised the original goal for approaching the bar and he sighed, he looked at you as he asked, "a glass of the strongest drink here please."

you don't really know how you are finding the strength to not giggle or squeal at his voice but you are grateful for it as you smile again, bowing your head a bit to show your remorse for not being able to fulfil his request. "i am sorry sir but we don't serve at this time. it's against our policies." you added the last part in case he tried to persuade you to give him just one drink because that scenario clearly happened many times in the past too.

chuuya felt frustration seep through his bones and he wanted to scream and curse at his luck because the bottles were just a few steps away from him yet he can't touch them. he curtly nodded.

he could see your eyes dancing around in search for something and he waited curiously while watching you pat your pockets in search for something as you wanted to make up for not having the permission to serve alcohol. you just don't want him to get a bad first impression of you and you feel bad to see how soaked and disappointed he looks.

you smile as you find a chocolate in one of your apron pockets, taking it out, you look at him, "i can't really serve any drinks right now but please have this as a substitute." you say as you lean to reach over for him over the counter, you grabbed his wrist and dropped the chocolate on his palm as you smile, you noticed how soaked his sleeves were and immediately remembered one of his interviews in which he said he didn't like rains or getting wet in them.

a frown settled on your face as you took in just how soaked he look like a puppy or kitten which was abandoned in the rain and you know this is not professional or even normal whatsoever but you don't care and you make it obvious when you say, "please wait here for a second."

your rational side is cursing at you now and is preparing in advance for the embarrassment you'll face but the more emphatic side of you doesn't listen as you quickly rush towards the staff room and walk over to your locker. you open it to immediately search for the oversized jacket you always wear due to how cozy it is and how secure it makes you feel.

you take your jacket out of the hanger carefully and straighten it out, you uncertainty stare at it before you groaned and reached your hand inside the locker to grab your perfume and you spray it on the jacket in case the lingering scent of your body mixed with the light drizzles which fell on you when you were coming here is still on the jacket.

"why the hell am i being so creepy?" you ask yourself for a answer but don't get any as you close the locker with a bit more force then necessary. you look down at the jacket in your hand and let out a exasperated sigh, preparing yourself to face chuuya and how you are going to hand him your jacket. the thought is making your heart beat in a way that it feels ticklish and makes you want to giggle.

". . . this is a once in a lifetime chance though." you answer your previous question in a quiet and joyful voice as you squeal, shaking your head as if that'll help you to get rid of the smile on your face. you remember how chuuya's clothes clunged to his body, his wet hair which sticked to his forehead and how he was constantly pushing it back with his gloved hand. how he was staring at you . . . dear lord, the way he was quietly staring at you with his head tilted just the slightest bit is enough to make your body burn from head to toe and at the same time it's enough to make you cower away in shyness.

the way his voice sounded so calm and deep complimented the serious look on his face yet how did he look so good still? good enough to make your heart stir in different directions as you tried your best to stay calm infront of him.

you chuckled as you bit your lip, still unable to grasp the reality that the chuuya nakahara is infront of you. and normally you would've been more cautious of being alone at this hour in the bar with a man but you were always a bit dumb when it came to chuuya so this explains your unwavering trust in the man you met for the first time but whose voice you listened to even at hours when you would sit crumbled on your bed as you wondered if you even had any future or at times when you and your friend would dance around in the dorm you two used to share, dancing and giggling to his voice and his songs, laughing at his interviews and squealing at his edits and performances.

chuuya let out a breath as he furrowed his eyebrows but obediently stayed there as he took a seat on one of the stools, he cursed under his breath as when he sat, the wet pants pressed against his skin and he didn't like the feeling one bit but he doesn't have it in himself to care too much about the wet clothes clinging to his skin right now.

he saw your phone placed on the counter and chuuya isn't one who snoops on others and checks their phone in their absence but the moment he looked at your phone, a notification went off and your phone lighted up to show him the paused song on your screen.

he blinked.

he smiled at first before he chuckled quietly at the sight of one of his songs paused on your phone. so you were listening to his song.

chuuya turned his head to the side to look out of the window you were previously looking at and wondered what is so special in the particular song you were listening to that it was making you smile so joyfully and carefreely?

he quickly gave up on pondering about it as he knows his mind will come up with more negative answers than positive ones which will tear down at whatever is left of his self esteem and he doesn't want that to happen, doesn't want to suffer anymore for he had enough and is tired of it. to constantly live in the fear of what people show him and what they actually think about it, to try his best to not make a single mistake which is inhumane and to carry on his sorrows with the expectations the ceo of his agency has of him. it's too much and chuuya has too little strength for all of that anymore.

the thought of the higher ups fuels his blood with raw anger and he turned his palms into fists but felt something poking his palm with a nimble sharpness. chuuya looked down as he opens his palm and sees the chocolate which was laid on his palm with a curious look in his eyes, his lips slowly curved up in a small smile while he remembered the way you placed the chocolate on his palm to make up for not serving alcohol.

he rolled his eyes at the absurd trade you made but he can't ignore that he finds it a bit cute, he examines the chocolate before he lets out another chuckle and tosses it in the air, catching it between his index and middle finger.

"i feel as if you are bad news for me." he mumbles to the chocolate before he gently placed it inside his wet pocket. a sudden curiosity rised inside him to see his song on your phone again, he wanted to feel the heartbeat he felt when he first realised you were listening to his voice and so chuuya leaned up to tap on your phone screen, the sight of his song paused on your screen has him feeling relieved for some reason because it feels like someone is there to hear him despite there being thousands who does so. maybe you are just lucky that he happened to meet you before any of them in this way.

this must be what they call fate.

chuuya sat down on the stool again as he pursed his lips, his hands gripped the chocolate tightly.

"you are supposed to eat that, not take your anger out on it." he could feel as goosebumps began to rise on his skin when your hot breath hits against the shell of his ear and he looked at you from the corner of his eye to see you wrapping your jacket around his shoulders, you had leaned down to whisper these words by his ear and chuuya smirked.

"is that an order?" his gruff voice came out from deep within his throat, he sees how you gulp down in what he hoped would be either nervousness or shyness. you shake your head as you smile, taking a step back and chuuya wishes he knew why he wants to pull you forwards again.

"it's more of a advice." you answer him as you walk over to the back of the counter again, your hands placed on the counter top as you tilted your head and stared at him and chuuya smirks, the twitch of your fingers is something you can't hide despite wanting to and this is what chuuya spotted despite your casual demeanor.

"that's a nice song you were listening to." he spoke to let you know that your little admiration for him was no longer a secret you shared with others who felt mutually but rather is now something that'll hopefully make you two grow closer . . or not. no one knows what little trick fate or destiny might pull next.

you felt your cheeks heating up and your entire body feels hot in embarrassment, you silently curse yourself for not taking your phone with you as you just hope he doesn't end up finding you creepy or anything even after all your efforts to make him feel as normal as you can, ignoring his status and achievements.

"mhm, one of my favorites." you breath out nervously as you watch his gloved hands adjust your jacket on his shoulders. the way the water drops are dripping down his hair and on his forehead as it flows down his temple and cheek to his chin. he looked at you as you spoke and this led the droplet to glide down his neck and disappear beneath his shirt and that's when you raise your eyes to look up at him.

"and the artist?" he whispers in a raspy voice but you wonder how can he even think you would be able to focus on his words when he is removing his gloves so delicately that it's sexy to stare at. now chuuya knows he is just embarrassing himself by asking this but with the mess of emotions he felt before he finally entered this restaurant, he couldn't really care less or more.

"the artist?" you repeat, how are you supposed to express your love and admiration for him without sounding like a obsessive fangirl who will go mad if her idol looked at another woman? you ponder and you know you are taking a great deal of time to answer a question which can be answered simply in a few words but chuuya doesn't seem to mind your hesitancy so it's fine, you think.

you take a deep breath as you tug at your skirt in nervousness, slowly speaking, "yeah. i like him alot too. he has a very nice voice and his lyrics seems like poetry. so yeah, the artist is my favorite too."

your answer touched his heart but also made him tsk in frustration because for some reason he is now craving more. he wants to hear more and he wants to hear it from you. you and only you.

"is that it?" chuuya presses on, he leans forwards on the stool he is sitting as he watches you look over your shoulder to find some task to busy yourself with because if you stare at chuuya with the same intensity he is staring at you with, you'll blush and melt into a puddle by his feet.

"you want to hear more?" you ask as you turned to pick a wine glass and clean it, rubbing it with the cloth that laid on the counter. you want to continue talking, depending and gambling with your dignity to tease him as you do not know if he will reciprocate it or find you ignorant and rude though you hope it's not the latter.

"is it unusual of a man to fish for compliments from someone?" chuuya teases back.

"why from me?"

he stops to wonder at this because truthfully he doesn't have an answer to this urge within him as well. you smiled as you see him blink and ponder deep and hard on words that do not particularly hold any meaning to them apart from a means to start flirting.

as chuuya looks up at you again to see you cleaning the glasses with a cloth, he could see you peeking at him every few seconds. your eyes meet his and you looked surprised yet oddly flattered to see his eyes on you. you look down immediately as you were embarrassed on being caught by him because many people have confidence but you do not. you do not have a smooth or heart fluttering response if he decides to ask you why you were looking at him but you think you can get away by using his status for your defence if he decides to ask. which, he won't as that thought isn't even anywhere near his mind, rather he feels pleased to see your eyes unable to stay away from him for more then ten seconds.

chuuya smiled at a very stupid thought he just had. he wants to ask if you visited any of his concerts because it's clear by now to even the stupidest person that you are a fan, his fan. if you haven't then he is contemplating with his impulsive thought of inviting you for a date but won't that be technically considered as him wanting to meet you again? it's been what? not more then half an hour since he came here and since you two exchanged limited words and he is already thinking of inviting you? something is definitely wrong with him.

"i like being complimented by you. is that weird?" chuuya chuckled nervously because he knows it's weird, of course it's weird. lord why did he even ask that?

"definitely but i get it. i like being complimented too." you ease his worries and he doesn't know if you are being genuine or for the sake of it but he doesn't want to question it either.

"would you like being complimented by me?" chuuya asks as he adjusted your jacket on his shoulders as he can feel it slip down one of his shoulders but once it happened again, he just decided to slip his hands into the jacket, immediately getting hit by the fragrance of the perfume you wear and a weirdly warm feeling rising in his chest.

"yeah but --" you pause as you leaned over the counter, ignoring the coldness of it which seems to soak through your shirt as you adjust the jacket's collar for him, "-- i like compliments only when they are genuine and sincere."

"you think i will compliment you for flattery? for buttering you up?" he asks, a bit offended that you would doubt his intentions but he quickly gets over it as he reminds himself that you are a woman alone at the restaurant with a man (if there are other staff then they either went out for a break or are inside and both of them aren't any better then his original assumption) so it makes sense for you to be wary of him but it still hurts because chuuya isn't that shallow.

"wellll, I mean what if you use a few sweet words on me to get me to give you a drink or two?" you try to make your voice sound as playful as you can, singing out your words as you smile at him to make it known you have no ill thoughts about him. you stand back straight again as you grab the glass you had cleaned a bit too well that you are sure it'll sparkle the most out of all the other glasses. you turn to place it on the shelf behind you and this is why you were able to withstand his intense stare.

he stares as if he is gazing at the stars in the vast universe, those stars which upon a closer look appears to be magnificent enough to move one's heart and make him wonder how can something like this exist? and at the same time as someone as him who is just so plain and bland beneath the sparkles amd charisma he wears.

"point to be noted." he huffs but chuuya can't stop his lips from quirking up, his shoulders noticeably drops as he appears more relaxed now. his eyes are so sparkly and you wonder if you were allowed to look at it long enough, would you be able to find your universe in them?

"but i don't give fake compliments. if i did, the media and industry would've liked me more." he adds the last part in a obviously teasing tone but you could hear the bitterness beneath it all and it made you chuckle as you excused yourself for doing so. chuuya is not a person to give fake compliments, sure he may pretend to act nice and friendly with the higher ups who either only want to milk him out or get him in their beds but he doesn't really compliment unless he actually feels like it.

"i like you though." you chirped without thinking first and you wish you did because now you feel embarrassment looking at your feet, slowly trying to climb up your ankle and shin to try to devour you.

"i mean --" you stutter as you try to make the situation better for yourself somehow but chuuya doesn't let you, you feel the embarrassment clinging to your hips as chuuya chuckled. he rests his cheek on his knuckles as he gave you a charming smile that makes you want to let out a shy giggle due to the joy of someone like him smiling at you.

"you like me, hm? so is the drink on you?" chuuya teases, the charismatic smile on his face grew up while the corner of his eyes wrinkled as he genuinely smiled on seeing you blink for a few seconds before you suddenly laughed.

you shook your head as you chuckled, calming down from your laughter, "sadly not tonight."

your words caused chuuya's heart to leap out of his chest for a moment because he is sure he isn't reading too much and isn't hoping for what isn't there but your words imply that you want to meet him again or is it just a expression of politeness?

chuuya's breathing picked it's pace, he nearly jumped off the stool to grab your shoulders and demand you to be more specific with your words but he stayed back. "i'll hold onto your words."

he teases but his eyes stare at you intensely as if daring you to deny him one more meeting though you can't distinguish the quiet resolve in his eyes yet, so you get deceived by his words and nod for what really are the chances of you meeting a celebrity like him once again?

"want me to write on a paper? like a contract or something?" your lips quirk up as you lean on the counter to be closer to him again, the stool moves a bit back as chuuya stands up to lean near you despite the counter separating you two, he whispers, "write your number down on it too."

he didn't know why his heart clenched softly at the way your expression was painted by surprise before you move a bit back due to obviously being flustered. he also can't understand why he nearly smiles at getting you flustered because he is used to making people get shy at the sight of him so this shouldn't really be that big of a deal except it is. chuuya knows he shouldn't really be feeling this way or having thoughts which admit how much he will like to sit here the entire night and talk to you because not only is he risking his career but also your safety and privacy if any journalist or one of his crazily obsessed fans see him with you but he can't also bring himself to take a step back and leave you alone. he wants to stay here with you until you say him to leave yourself which is a problem again -- the way your fingers tremble and your eyes sparkle as you talk to him, it's a clear sign that you also enjoy talking to him as much as he is enjoying it.

chuuya doesn't know if he should feel glad or if he should feel frustrated because it's only going to make it harder for him to leave.

"you don't know my name and you already want my numbe --" you stop talking as you see chuuya stiffen up, growing silent as you wonder why he suddenly grew so stiff, silently you watch his state of desolation as he stares out of the window (the same one you were staring out of previously as that's the only uncovered window at this time).

chuuya swears he saw a silhouette moving from the corner of his eyes as the silhouette passed by the window. it would have been a passing by event had he not clearly recognised the blonde hair which belonged to only one person, the same man who was fearless enough to punch chuuya and take away his most prized possession from him even if he knew how devastated and helpless it will leave chuuya.

chuuya looks at you in a agitated manner, and it makes you wonder what he saw as the stool nearly falls over when he moves back, running out as if he just saw a ghost.

you stand there, watching the door open and close as you purse your lips and wonder if fate would find it funny enough and make you collide into chuuya once again. but he won't remember you, it makes sense for him not to. he is a star after all.

you look away with a smile, a drumming in your heart is making you feel giddy and you are fearful because you are sure this isn't what you are supposed to feel after meeting your idol and you certainly should not feel disappointment so strongly at his departure but you do and you may have a hint why and it makes you spiral in confusion and slight disgust towards yourself because you are pretty sure this isn't supposed to be normal or healthy. or maybe it is. that is, had chuuya been a normal guy.

chuuya runs out of the restaurant, his eyes frantically search on both sides of the road to find him again but it's as if he has disappeared with the blowing wind and rain. chuuya can feel his heart drumming so hard in panick at the possibility that this might be the only chance he has to find him and apologise and make everything right. but how can he do so if he is no where to be seen?

chuuya runs towards the window where he saw him pass by and he has one tiny voice in the back of his mind telling him to slow down, to not be this weak and look over his shoulder to see if he can see you. if he does, he should smile and wave at you while sneakily keeping an eye on his surroundings to spot him. but he doesn't. not now atleast when his hands are so sweaty that the gloves he is wearing feels as if a uncomfortable wrinkled second skin grew on top of his original one.

chuuya doesn't even stop to see if you were staring at him and wondering what's wrong with him or not as his mind is everywhere and nowhere. there is one force driving his body to look around in search while the opposing force is lulling him to stop and fall on his knees or go somewhere and enjoy a bottle of alcohol till he passes out again. alcohol is the only fun part of his life since the past few years anyway.

maybe he should search for flowers with good fragrance and gift them to you the next time he meets you -- why will he meet you though? what's your relationship with him -- you are a fan, he knows but is this enough to come back again for a second meeting?

chuuya freezes as he sees a few blonde heads walking away and he tries to find the one he is searching for in them, he bites down on his lip to somehow beg him body to suppress the approaching urge to puke, to divert his attention away from the uncomfortable bulge in his throat that is rising and rising. lord, where is he? he was here, passing by just a moment ago.

chuuya feels so lost because he was here. where is he now? he was here but not anymore. is he too late? he is too late probably. will there be a next time? he hopes.

chuuya takes a deep and loud breath as he looks back at the restaurant and the feeling of lost and hopelessness only increases because it's not like he can walk back into the restaurant again. he ruined his chances -- .... chances of what?

chuuya tries to search for excuses to walk back into the restaurant again, to approach the small bar you are working at and talk to you till these sad hours of night passes away but there is no excuse plausible enough which he can think of. he pats his pants but nope, he doesn't have his phone on him to excuse being inside with you in the disguise of trying to charge his phone. he looks down but he doesn't have any bracelet or ring which he can slip on the floor below the stool he was sitting on and pretend as if it was important to him and so he came back to search for it. there is nothing which will help him to go back.

he must only go forwards whether he wants it or not but isn't that life to all?

chuuya feels hopelessly lost and angry because now he is stuck. he can't find him and neither can he go back to you. chuuya looks up at the cloudy sky for a while... perhaps ten minutes or so? does time even matter anymore?

he looks back down at the wet pavement from the previous rain and growled out in frustration. gone were the few moments of peace, he is back in his empire of sorrow, anger and guilt now.

he walked towards the road to stop a taxi and go back to his apartment in a luxurious apartment complex in an equally luxurious area. as he sat on the backseats of the taxi with his legs on the seat (the driver dare not say anything, chuuya shoved a fat stash of money to him as soon as he entered anyway), chuuya tried to think of what he would like to drink as soon as he reaches home. he isn't in the mood for wine and honestly, he hasn't touched some in so long. he prefers strong drinks which makes him completely drunk now -- do you like wine? would you prefer the normal one or white wine? should he take you on a wine tasting date .... wait what?

chuuya whose eyes were closed suddenly opened as he sat up straight on the seat, startling the driver but he doesn't care as his thoughts and the weirdness of them is affecting him, quiet ghastly thoughts he is having if he thinks so.

chuuya covers his face with his gloved palms and harshly rubbed his face, he can't let it happen. he has to make sure to not bump into you again to ensure your safety but the thought of this meeting being the only one and never meeting you again is clawing at chuuya's chest for some reason.

"i knew you were bad news for me." chuuya lowly mutters to himself because he knows he will keep craving another meeting, is it because you didn't freak out openly on meeting him because he was craving a normal interaction since so long. but it can't be that because if it was then why doesn't he want to meet his manager, staff and everyone who works for him?

he feels the coolness of the ac in the car collide with his wet clothes and pass to his skin, his fingers tightly pull at your jacket to wrap it more around himself as the perfume you sprayed on it reached his nose and chuuya sighed out, leaning back on the seat as he closes his eyes to try and imagine it is you hugging him and not your jacket.

he wonders how your arms would feel wrapped around his neck. are you the type to gently coo at him and pull his head towards your chest or do you rather prefer to have him bury his face against your neck as you trace mindless shapes on his back. will you notice the knots and tension on his back and shoulders, he thinks you will massage to relax him because you are like that, a balm.

ah.

chuuya groaned as he turns to face the window, pulling your jacket up to hide his face against it because he can feel the soft hands of his doom embrace him, doom wrapped in the form of you. if doom ie so pretty, no wonder many great men fell for it. chuuya thinks he might be doomed too if it means he gets to be near you again.... ugh, what's wrong with him and what's wrong with his thoughts?

how long does it take for the fallen leaves from the treess to be perished? how long does it take for new ones to grow on those now plain and naked branches? how longer will you continue to torment chuuya with the taste -- no, it wasn't a taste rather he just took a whiff of the aroma of the sweet forbidden fruit. he knows he won't end well if he eats it yet when has man not craved what isn't good for him? from the creation of the nuclear bomb to dangerous activities for adrenaline to what not.

seventy two hours and fifty four minutes have passed and as every minute passed, chuuya's despair and panick increased. he knows something is wrong with him and that too on a great level. his finger twitched around the alcohol bottle as he thinks more and more about his behavior since the past few days.

he swore under his breath as yet another bottle of alcohol is finished yet his thirst and need aren't satisfied. chuuya looks at the floor of his living room to see many bottles of alcohol laying, discarded and empty like him.

he used to feel empty before too but it's different now, more painful because he knows if he just went out and walked into the restaurant you work at, he can forget this feeling for a while and by not going. he is purposely punishing himself.

he raises his arm to cover his eyes, his mind once again begins to think and chuuya hates when he thinks because his thoughts are either of them or since the past few days, you.

and he hates how he thinks of you and feels himself growing restless to meet you, he hates how fast his heart begins to beat and how he smiles at his own thoughts, he hates the fluttering in his stomach and how he wants to feel your arms wrapped around him. only once. but if you do so, he fears he will get addicted and won't be able to go back to his despairing and lonely life again.

nakahara chuuya is a star and whoever touches a star burns so why is he burning here? with a desire to just get a glimpse of you so he could memorize your face and imagine it over and over again.

chuuya stands up, taking a few steps to the minibar in his living room after his pr team decided it would be better to give him free access to alcohol in his own apartment rather then risking him going to a bar or so for it and ruin his image in his drunk state. they can't force chuuya to quit alcohol after all, it became clear after their many failed attempts over the past few years.

chuuya reeks of alcohol and this is why your jacket is folded neatly on top of his bed, he doesn't want your perfume to disappear from your jacket due to the alcohol, your jacket is his only source of comfort after all. other then alcohol that is. yet no matter how the liquid burns his throat whenever he drinks it, it can't even compare an ounce to the warmth your jacket and the illusion that it's you hugging him whenever he drapes it over his shoulders brings.

chuuya grabbed the nearest bottle he saw, unscrewing the lid as he raised the bottle to his lips and gulps a huge amount, sighing in content. the most safe he feels is when he drinks, letting his mind be swayed by the alcohol because when he is drunk, he revives in his happiest moments.

he raises the bottle to drink from it again, his apartment door opened which prompts him to look at who entered from the limited number of people who knows his pin. the sight of the woman in her traditional japanese attire, sharp eyes like those of a lioness which are filled with exaggerated concern dares him to try to take another sip. he doesn't.

"what led to you stepping inside my humble commode-?"

"stop acting like a weak boy and embrace your image. you are a global star. the boss doesn't show it but he might discard you at this rate if you keep on behaving like this." she spoke, her concern for him hidden behind her sharp words but chuuya has the talent to catch onto the hidden melodies. he placed the bottle on the mini bar top as he frowns. the alcohol will taste like salt now if he drinks because he is pulled out of his deluded state of mocking peace by the realities.

now he is forced to think more violently. what will happen if the port mafia boss stops thinking of him as a star whose light blinds everyone, blinding them to the port mafia and the schemes they carry? what will happen if his main source of income -- the port mafia -- begins to think he is of no worth anymore? what will happen if they got their dirty hands on you, thinking you are the reason for chuuya's behaviour?

chuuya wants to throw up the alcohol he greedily gulped as a image of you with a gaping bullet wound on the centre of your forehead, lifeless eyes half closed as they stared at him, popped in his mind. once again he realises the grave danger he is in, the grave deal he made with that man.

"ane-san." he calls calmly as if his blood pressure didn't just raise at that horrifying possibility, he needs to pretend to be normal. "tell the boss to not worry. i needed to sort myself out a bit. i am ready. tell him to throw his best at me."

"chuuya." kouyou calls, stern and calm yet her eyes just shows her disapproval at his claim, she has every right to be skeptical, chuuya tells himself in order to not get offended at her lack of faith in him, he hasn't been the most promising the last few years after all. "boy. we prefer results over promises."

"i have always given results practically golden, didn't i?" chuuya presses on because he knows it's true. with his face all over the country and many others in asia, all the news channels and journalists wanting to cover him, chuuya has singlehandedly provided the mafia with atleast a firm sixty percent of fame to hide under. in this matter of covering the mafia's dirty work, chuuya has been and still is (despite him not having the same determination he did before) the most providing factor to the mafia. which is impressive as he isn't even a part of them officially. "just because i went a bit off track the past few years doesn't mean anyone can barge into my apartment and talk whatever way they want to. doesn't mean anyone can doubt me and my abilities."

chuuya takes steps forwards till he stood infront of the taller woman and he tilted his head, his eyes cold and angry as he stared at her, "i am a fucking star." he whispers.

kouyou stares at him for a few agonizing seconds before she smiled, amused at how good he has gotten in pretending to be fine and stern. she still remembers the first time she met the man when he was still fifteen, he looked so lost and doubtful of everything. here he is, glaring down at her as if she can't have him killed in a snap of a finger.

kouyou leaned down as she places her hand on his shoulder, her manicured nude nails shine under the lights of chuuya's apartment, no doubt if she wanted she can scratch his face with her nails and leave him unable to work without getting a surgery for whom the mafia will pay and thus, chuuya will have one more expensive debt to pay off.

"boy." koyuou calls out fondly because she isn't mori, she doesn't find ways to exploit chuuya for the mafia's benefit. that's not her job. "i hope you'll keep your words."

she doesn't smile but her voice sounds pleasant enough so a smile isn't even needed for chuuya to realise she is giving him a chance to prove himself. normally he wouldn't bat an eye to how many opportunities are thrown at him, he knows one smile will have more then half of the nation squealing again . . . but you'll probably like if he made new songs, you'll have more songs to listen to, you'll have more opportunities to hear his voice and a very sick part of chuuya hopes it can make you obsessed with his voice.

"stop drinking." kouyou's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, he looks behind him where she is looking to see the two empty glasses of alcohol on the bar counter and a few small bottles near the couch. he wishes he could but if he doesn't drink, he knows he will die.

"yeah." chuuya answers only for the sake of responding.

"stop drinking your life away."

"yeah."

"chuuya." she calls sternly, chuuya looks up because he understands the losing patience in her voice and the disdain, he sighs. ". . . i will try to cut down on it ane-san." he mumbles as he looks at the expensive pendent she is wearing instead because eyes show disappointment but jewels shine as if they are waving at him. it's funny how a woman whose hands are tainted in blood of innocent people is enjoying such luxury, chuuya bitterly thinks sometimes. suddenly all the resentment he harbours against her, against the mafia, against the entire world, came back.

kouyou notices it. she always took pride that even if someone took a breath a second later then their usual breathing pattern, she'll know. but she wishes she didn't at this moment because seeing the bitter resentment which she can spread into chuuya's heart, she remembers the way he used to tag along and cling to her when he was still fifteen. how he used to tilt his head as she taught him the etiquettes. sometimes she wishes she can go back to that time when they were close like before because as ashamed she is of ever admitting, she cares for the boy more then she should.

"don't die boy. when stars die, the one who used them as a source of light are lost. they live but not live life." kouyou's eyes turn dazed, she seems to be reminiscing memories, chuuya notes -- her past lover from the mafia -- he realises, suddenly feeling bad for being this way with the woman who had already been through a lot but he has been through alot too. the difference between them is, kouyou is used to it but he isn't. he isn't a mafia member, he doesn't know how to handle deaths.

kouyou doesn't speak anymore, she doesn't know how to try to reconnect with chuuya again. so she pats his shoulder comfortingly, turning around to leave while the words she spoke repeat in chuuya's mind, it makes him miss the look of longing she directed at him before she walked out.

who will care if he dies? his fans? yeah but they'll get over it after a few years.

but will you care if he dies -- that is, if he gets close to you and if you two ever become friends, will you be able to move on from him or will you be just a shell of a human living? what if you resort to the habits he has now -- no, that can't happen. even the thought of it is making chuuya's heart lurch in his chest. then he feels a bucket of cold water being poured on him, if you two become friends . . . chuuya knows he is a sick bastard for hoping you two to become close enough for his death or even him being injured to affect you, he can't seem to even accept the fact that you won't know if he was to get injured now. he wants you, he needs you, to be worried for him. he wants to have you fret over him, to care for him, scold him like kouyou does. he thinks if you told him to stop drinking, he will do his damn best to stop doing so.

. . . three hours later he broke the promise. nine days later, he had a meeting with a port mafia executive and it all clicks. chuuya who is driven by resentment, sets his mind to bring the change into motion.

[sansaorgana]

I am SCREAMING on the inside. This is so good, so delicious, so fucking amazing!!! 🤩🤤 I couldn't help myself and read it at work, sitting by my desk and keeping a poker face on... 😩

I am tempted to quote every single line because the fic is so beautifully written but of course I can't do that. 😅

Still, I have A LOT to say! 💓

However, you make it look so peaceful, he has to try it occasionally. Of course he usually finds you in your dreams, takes all the attention you can spare and more, leaving you wanting until waking when he can ravage you again.

I love how possessive and obsessive he is, that he even haunts her dreams and claims her mind this way all the time.

What makes you think a servant as worthless as you deserves a love like hers?

I love me some humbled Sauron lmao

In this state, you're reminded of just how dangerous your husband is, even between dreaming and waking. His eyes are black, unseeing, with a terrifying expression you're sure would have annihilated any enemy he could have been dreaming of.

Why is this so fucking sexy lmao scared & horny! 🤤😩

"All is well, my love, it wasn't real, you're here with me, no one can touch you here." Some nights, holding him close and murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear is enough to soothe him; tonight he needs a little more from you.

Well, he's welcome to need more and I'm more than happy to give it to him 🥵

But he's hard against your hip, a fact you're trying to ignore; taking advantage of him is the last thing on your mind, not that he would protest, even when he returns to his right mind.

TAKE ADVANTAGE OF HIM, BITCH!!! 😂

You feel him grind against you and you release a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.

God, he's such a needy dog! I love that ❣️

"Use me," his breathy moan breaks on your skin like a wave on the shore, tingles washing down your spine, filling your core with empty warmth as he bucks his hips into yours, which respond in kind as you turn your head to meet his hungry kiss.

USE ME??? OMG 😱

"Use me... take me... love me..." he begs you, with less and less breath left in his lungs with each command, as you gently lay him on his back, straddling his thighs, grinding your core into the hard muscle.

I loved this plea because it's like he's begging but also ordering since he's Sauron himself? Idk to me it's a perfect mix of submission driven by dominance if you get me and I'm a slut for that!

Sauron watches you hazily, through heavily lidded eyes, in disbelief that the goddess above him is his and his alone to enjoy and to ruin.

HIS AND HIS ALONE TO ENJOY AND TO RUIN 🛐🛐🛐

You sit up, licking him from your fingers, and your smile is so radiant, he forgets where he is, who he is, all the evil he has ever done. For one shining moment, it is just you and him, all he'd ever need.

She could fuck the evil outta him, love that 😂

"No, no, not that, never that, always so good to me, my beautiful wife, love you so much, my sweet..." His cunt-drunk ramblings are adorable but you put a finger to his lips.

CUNT-DRUNK SAURON 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

You can't help but feel absurdly powerful, a Maia fallen apart at your fingertips, never mind this Maia, this beautiful demon who vowed to never relinquish his control again. It's an honour and a privilege to see him submit to you like this, submit to himself like this, let himself just feel without exercising his need to dominate, to just let go with the one person in the world he knows he is truly free with.

Oh to be the only person he would submit to... 😌

"Please, my love... remake me, make me yours,"

Remake me!!! 😳 He just wants to be her subject, her disciple... Ugh 😩

A tiny voice in his mind tells him he should be embarrassed; but what is worship if not praise?

What is worship if not praise... 🤧

Sitting astride him, you feel as if he's never been so deep inside your cunt before now. You hiss a little at the intrusion but he's so familiar, every time he enters you, it feels like coming home.

I love how they fit each other so well in every sense 😉

"I know what you need..." You murmur as you lean over him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, "nothing in that head, cock wet and wanting, heart full and happy."

I am shooketh and speechless 🥵

Subjugate the Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

Sauron has a nightmare. You are only too happy to oblige in making him forget; or:

Sub!Sauron makes a lengthy appearance. Plot, what plot?

Set in my In The Dark series, but works as a standalone (alludes to trauma mentioned in other chapters, but it is literally just smut) // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Disease by Lady Gaga, Don't Let Me Go by Raign, Like a Prayer by Madonna, Oh You Are Not Well by Chloe Foy

Playlist!

Warnings: 18+! Dom/sub - gentle dom, needy sub; just pure smut; literally Plot What Plot (though there is a bit if you squint); P in V sex; oral sex (male and female receiving); copious amounts of bodily fluids (sorry, like for real); cockwarming; dry humping; handjob; begging/denial/teasing; praise kink; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; unresolved trauma; tiny bit of violence but it is just an illusion; very soft!Sauron, so tender. We make him cry and that's all I wanted to do.

A/N: I've been working on this for a few days, it is ummm filthier than anything I've ever written, like I really don't know where it came from. The warnings are just what's on the menu at this point idk.

I pictured Annatar for this one, but you guys can imagine whomever you like (@troublesomesnitch he's got that chest hair though!!) Sub!Halbrand would be a treat ngl.

Excuse the gif guys, I just want to see him cry :)

Word Count: 4.2k (!!)

Sauron does not sleep. Ordinarily.

However, you make it look so peaceful, he has to try it occasionally. Of course he usually finds you in your dreams, takes all the attention you can spare and more, leaving you wanting until waking when he can ravage you again.

Sometimes however his dreams come unbidden. Instead of slipping into your mind, he falls deeper into his own, unearthing old memories he'd rather stay buried, burned beyond recognition.

You always know when this happens; your usually calm and collected lover wakes in a cold sweat, clutching at your skin, his face in your neck, desperate to forget what his mind has shown him. He has never told you the details, but you can only assume it has something to do with his master, with his cruel and unusual forms of punishment.

Tonight is one of those nights, worse perhaps as he moans and writhes in his sleep, rousing you immediately. You can't seem to wake him from his torment, every gentle touch, every kiss to his temple only seems to fan the flames. You end up atop him, each of your thighs either side of his abdomen, trying to shake him awake.

Visions of Morgoth in his wrath; illusions of you partaking in his torture at his master's hand; pain and terror in his heart, as the nightmare refuses to cease, even as you try to soothe him.

What makes you think a servant as worthless as you deserves a love like hers?

Morgoth's words hold him in a vice grip; he can't break free, the unshed tears behind his closed eyelids threaten to leak onto his cheeks, stricken with fear and pain.

"I've got you, you're okay, you're here with me." You stroke his face, your hair brushing his chest, unsure of what to do except hold him.

When his eyes finally fly open, he grasps your arms, and with a leg hooked behind you, flips you onto your back, a dagger at your throat.

You're fairly sure his weapon isn't real, but he is a master of illusion, and pain is merely a construct of the mind; he could hurt you if he wanted to.

In this state, you're reminded of just how dangerous your husband is, even between dreaming and waking. His eyes are black, unseeing, with a terrifying expression you're sure would have annihilated any enemy he could have been dreaming of.

Your hands shaking, you reach up slowly and try to take the knife; surely enough, when you clutch at it, it disappears like smoke between your fingers, so you take his hand instead, still clenched unfeeling around his shattered illusion.

You pull his hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart flutter against his fingers.

Slowly but surely, you bring him back to you, his daze broken but his psyche bruised and bleeding.

Your shallow breathing evens out as the light returns to his eyes, and for a moment he looks at you confused as if his position above you is of your own making.

His eyes dart from his hand on your chest, to your fiercely fixed expression, attempting to soothe his nerves but unable to hide how shaken you are.

"Is this real?" He's still breathing hard, for someone who doesn't really need to breathe. "Are you really here? Is it you?"

He's so tender, tracing your cheekbones, your cupid's bow, gently raking your hair with his fingertips.

"Of course, beloved, I'm right here, I'm always right here." You try to hide your confusion, assuming he's still walking the line between dreaming and waking.

He slowly pulls himself away to nestle at your side, reluctant to break eye contact with you as he does so, still clutching at you to ground himself.

"What did I do? Tell me I didn't hurt you, love." He's so quiet, it's unnerving, but you take him in your arms anyway, crading his head to your chest.

"All is well, my love, it wasn't real, you're here with me, no one can touch you here." Some nights, holding him close and murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear is enough to soothe him; tonight he needs a little more from you.

All you want to do is tell him you love him, that he deserves you, that you're his, that he deserves everything you want to give him, that you ache for him when he's not by your side.

But he's hard against your hip, a fact you're trying to ignore; taking advantage of him is the last thing on your mind, not that he would protest, even when he returns to his right mind.

He listens to your heartbeat for a while, focusing on the strong rhythm to forget his waking nightmare, marvelling at how your heart beats in tandem to his, running his trembling fingers across your exposed skin, up your arm, across your collarbone to your throat, watching the artery jump in time with your heart. He knows you so well, so intimately, that when you notice his erection, your heart skips a beat, and he can guess exactly what you're thinking, not needing to peer into your mind for himself.

You feel him grind against you and you release a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.

"Love..." You murmur into his hair, absentmindedly running your fingers over the sensitive pointed tips of his ears. "Come now, you need to rest, darling."

He can't show you what he saw, what he went through, the horror and the agony of his master's worst torments. The image of you performing the worst of it is tattooed on his eyelids, a reminder of Morgoth's favourite form of punishment. He can't show you, can't tell you, but he can ask you to make him forget.

"I need you," he whispers in your ear, strangled groans peppering his sentiments, making you gasp, "need you to feel good, need you to know how much I adore you-"

Your eyes widen as blood rushes to your cheeks, the heat of his words enflaming your core.

"I want you too, love, but right now? Are you sure?" You ask him through ragged breath as he turns his attentions to your neck, licking and sucking and blowing cool air over your wet skin, before warming it with his tongue once more.

You're so close to giving in, wanting to give him all he craves and more, and he knows it.

"Use me," his breathy moan breaks on your skin like a wave on the shore, tingles washing down your spine, filling your core with empty warmth as he bucks his hips into yours, which respond in kind as you turn your head to meet his hungry kiss.

"I'm yours. Make me yours."

His words thrill you, but his tone makes you feel incredible; needy, wanton, desperate to please you.

You glide your hands over his torso, relishing in his hot velvet skin and the soft hair that covers him; taking your time as he tries to kiss you senseless, his heated skin glowing with sweat that you can't resist tasting for yourself, salt and smoke on your tongue.

"Use me... take me... love me..." he begs you, with less and less breath left in his lungs with each command, as you gently lay him on his back, straddling his thighs, grinding your core into the hard muscle.

You slide your hands between the layers of fabric separating your skin, stripping him slowly and laying him bare for your viewing pleasure alone.

He arches his back for you, baring his neck and thrusting his hips into the ghost of your touch, chanting your name and praying for you to take his aching cock in hand.

You trace the contours of his thighs, his firm abdominal muscles, the stiff peaks of his nipples, earning you a shudder and a moan that shoots straight to your core, hot wet arousal dripping onto his thigh.

His fingers move to gather your nectar instinctively, wanting to savour every taste of his wife, but you grip his wrist and raise it above his head, and he gasps. You've never denied him before, not in the eons you've adored him, but it turns him on beyond belief.

Sauron watches you hazily, through heavily lidded eyes, in disbelief that the goddess above him is his and his alone to enjoy and to ruin. You are a sight to behold, as your hair cascades down your back, lips parted and breath ragged; your breasts bounce as you ride his thigh, hypnotising him, drawing him deeper into your thrall.

He tries to lean up to kiss you, lave every inch of your skin with his desperate tongue, but you push him back to the bed.

"Not yet, soon but not yet." You want his mouth on you, the aching between your thighs only amplified by the distinct lack of your husband’s throbbing length inside you, but tonight is for him; he needs to surrender to you first.

"I don't think you've let go quite enough yet." Your warm breath breaks on his sensitive neck, washes down his spine, straight to his cock, throbbing in his need for you.

You haven't touched him yet, hands firmly in place on his chest; his eyes plead with you to be lenient, and as his loving wife, you're only too happy to oblige him as he continues to beg for all the care and attention you can give.

"Please, love, please, need you to-" he gasps as you run your fingers over the head of his cock, gathering the copious amounts of precum pooling on his stomach to ease the glide over his flesh.

"Is that better, love?" You can't help but smirk at his pained gasps, as you languidly stroke his shaft, circling the sensitive head with your thumb, your eyes locked on his.

His cock twitches in your hand as he moans your name, begs for release, begs for your cunt, begs to be remade.

"That's it, love, let yourself go. All you need to do is feel good for me, my love," you lean down, whispering in his ear, "please me, show me how much you deserve your release."

His breath hitches and you hear him swallow hard; his expression is a masterpiece, eyes wide, jaw slack, as he begs you to show him mercy, groaning and whimpering as you pump his length.

"Please..." It's only one syllable, but it feels like a lifetime as he chokes out his plea, tries to touch you to no avail as you hold his hands above his head, placing them in a death grip on the headboard.

"Please, what? You might need to be more specific, my darling." You edge down the bed, holding him in place as he tries to follow you, until your head rests on his thighs.

"Need you to... fuck!" He growls and curses and grips the headboard as his hips jerk and writhe to meet you.

"Need me to...? What, my sweet, tell me?" You are enjoying teasing him, perhaps a little too much, and you will pay for it later, but right now he's so deeply needy for your love and attention that he'll take whatever you bestow upon him.

"Touch me..." he groans, as his cock visibly throbs with need, "your fingers, your mouth, I don't care, I need you, you're the only one, only one who can make me feel like this..."

His pleas and whimpers cut off with a sharp gasp, as you take his cock in your mouth as deeply as you can manage. He feels the opening of your throat on his tip and loses his mind, his oversensitive flesh shooting stars up and down his spine, heat pooling in his abdomen that almost immediately spreads like wildfire throughout his body, as your fingers and tongue and lips work together like an orchestra, drawing an irresistible melody from the depths of his pitch black soul, and all the seed his cock can muster.

You pull away and let him spill himself over your thighs, your abdomen, your hands; he looks mortified but he can't stop now he's started, pearly white splattering your skin, making you his.

"I belong to you," he keens and stutters but you hear him through his orgasm, his whimpers becoming moans that reverberate through you.

You can only watch him adoringly as he finishes quaking and moaning beneath you, unable to quite believe that he is yours, even after all this time.

You sit up, licking him from your fingers, and your smile is so radiant, he forgets where he is, who he is, all the evil he has ever done. For one shining moment, it is just you and him, all he'd ever need.

"Proud of you, love, so good for me." You murmur as you lean down to kiss him softly, giving him that tiny confirmation of your affections he needs right now.

"...thank you, needed you. Ahh- Need you." He is grateful, oh so grateful, but his still-hard cock betrays him, and you can't help but grin.

"Oh love, did I not do a good enough job? Have I left you wanting?" Your faux sincerity pains him and he immediately starts apologising.

"No, no, not that, never that, always so good to me, my beautiful wife, love you so much, my sweet..." His cunt-drunk ramblings are adorable but you put a finger to his lips.

"It's okay, I know, I've got you," you smile at him; he returns it so radiantly, you have to kiss him, to be the one to destroy it.

His pretty moans flutter to your cunt, arousal dripping from you like honey from the hive, and he looks up at you, gloriously wide eyed, begging to be allowed to taste your nectar, to sate his thirst for you.

You can't help but feel absurdly powerful, a Maia fallen apart at your fingertips, never mind this Maia, this beautiful demon who vowed to never relinquish his control again. It's an honour and a privilege to see him submit to you like this, submit to himself like this, let himself just feel without exercising his need to dominate, to just let go with the one person in the world he knows he is truly free with.

"Please, my love... remake me, make me yours," His breathless plea is like no music the Valar have ever sung, his moans a spell all their own, enrapturing you even as you hold the key to his release, as you take command of the Maia who values his control of others above all else.

"I do believe, dearest, that you made quite the mess, actually, perhaps you'd be so kind?" You gesture to the cum that still drips down your thighs, sticky and uncomfortable and definitely ready to be washed from your skin.

He is only too happy to oblige.

You lie back and beckon him to you; he works his way up your body, methodically but no less desperately, licking up every drop to please you, content to savour every inch of you. When he tries to make a detour to your mound, you gently yank his hair, reminding him of his task, revelling in the absolute control he's given you.

"Oh love, you did make a mess," you moan as you stroke his hair, "so good for me, cleaning me up, such a good husband, always so good to me."

Receiving such praise is almost cruel and unusual for Sauron, who is frankly more used to giving it to you, and receiving wrath from all others. A tiny voice in his mind tells him he should be embarrassed; but what is worship if not praise? Your devotion, your care, your undivided attention; all for him, giving him that for which he yearns above all else.

He can't resist stealing a kiss, crashing his lips to yours as he cradles your face. You taste his seed on his lips, something that feels strangely forbidden, thrilling in its taboo. The aching in your core has only intensified with his efforts, and you feel it is about time he served you with his silver tongue in the way you both crave. You push his head to your cunt, with which he gladly complies, settling between your thighs, gripping your legs firmly apart to allow him to feast on you.

Before his tongue can delve into your folds, he holds back, locking his gaze on yours.

"Please? Let me taste you, let me show you how much I love you."

"Fuck, yes, love, yes," you chant his name as he finally puts his tongue to excellent use, seeking out your swollen clit, lapping at your entrance, sucking at the velvety skin of your inner thighs.

He keeps his hands in view; you haven't told him he can touch himself, and he won't break this spell now.

Like a starving man at a banquet, he indulges in you, exquisitely. Every tiny moan that escapes him vibrates over your folds, making you whimper in return; he flicks his tongue over your entrance before sliding two fingers deep inside you, hooking them and stroking that delicious sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He watches you the whole time, basking in the chorus of your pleasure.

You feel the heat coil in your abdomen, and you pull him away sharply; his disappointment is evident but you want him inside you when you finally claim your orgasm.

"Lay back, love, hands on the headboard." It is intoxicating, having your husband obey your every command, and as he settles into the mattress, looking up at you expectantly, you vow this won't be the last time the two of you play this game.

Sitting astride him, you feel as if he's never been so deep inside your cunt before now. You hiss a little at the intrusion but he's so familiar, every time he enters you, it feels like coming home. You grind your hips into him, capturing with your lips every whimper that forces its way past his clenched teeth. Tracing his firm chest, running your fingers through the smattering of soft hair, feeling every curve and contour slowly, languidly, while he writhes beneath your thighs, caging him inside your wet heat.

His strangled moans and gasps echo throughout your chamber; every time he reaches for you, you press a kiss to his palm and hold it above his head, until he learns to behave.

"No one could love me like you, care for me like you, knows how to take their pleasure from me like you, beautiful wife, only yours." He feels like he's losing his mind, slipping further into some deep quiet space where it's just the two of you, where nothing matters but you on his cock.

"Only you can put me back together, can sing the song my soul yearns for-" you interrupt his pretty words with your fingers in his mouth.

"Hush, my love, focus on me, only me, you don't have to speak, you don't have to beg for me unless you want to, just let it happen." You trace the shell of his ear with your tongue, savouring the tiny sighs that escape him, before nipping the pointed tip and relishing his sharp moan.

"Bound together, you and I, for all eternity... and I wouldn't have it any other way, sweet husband." You groan out between thrusts, every movement within you the sweetest form of torture.

No other thrill in the world will ever compare this; your divine husband laid out beneath you, looking up at you with blissful wonder, eyes black with lust, golden hair mussed and tangled by your fingers, your name tumbling from his swollen lips like a prayer and a curse. Right now, you'd take either.

"Darling, please," his broken gasp spans an octave, jumping to a breathy moan as you descend on his cock once more.

"I know what you need, love," you moan as you ride him, the drag of his cock inside you fucking delicious, but the look on his face is a feast in comparison.

His eyes widen as he clutches the bedsheets, refusing to look away but requiring every iota of self-restraint to stay present with you, not to lose himself to the unearthly sensations you've introduced him to tonight.

"I've got you, just let it go, give yourself to me, beloved, let your mind empty-" you kiss him deeply and swallow the groan building in his chest.

"So proud of you, so good for me, doing so well," you let out a throaty moan as you clench your walls around him, feeling his cock throb within you.

"I know what you need..." You murmur as you lean over him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, "nothing in that head, cock wet and wanting, heart full and happy."

His ragged breath hitches as the last shred of self-control slips through his fingers. He thrusts up deep inside you, throbbing, aching to fill you, as you grab his hands and pull them to touch you finally, a precious relief to you both.

As he runs his hands up your bare skin, he kneads your soft flesh, worshipping every inch as if he's never beheld anything so perfect in his long life. His large hands encircle your abdomen, grasp your hips, pull your ass impossibly closer until you can't tell where you end and he begins; not that the distinction is important anymore.

He rests his hands on your back, fingers splayed as if to encompass you within his flesh, as if being wrapped around you, caged inside you, isn't enough contact, like the two of you enjoined in body and soul isn't enough, will never be enough to sate his hunger for you.

Finally, you let him lean up to join you, his torso flush with yours, gliding against you, slick with the sweat you've provoked in your teasing. He kisses you hard, tongue tangling with yours, teeth hungry, lips swollen, your breath mingling just as your souls are entwined, a maelstrom of pleasure in which you'd be happy to be imprisoned forever.

You brush back his soft hair, grip the roots, and pull his head back, bearing his throat to your greedy lips. You grind on his cock as you press harsh kisses, soft bites, to his tender flesh, laving his skin and savouring his moans under your tongue. He fucking whimpers under you, and you pull away to take him in, in all his ruined glory.

There are tears in his eyes, his lips wet and parted for your kiss; his expression is nothing like you've ever seen, so completely has he given himself to you and your pleasure.

You softly trace his throat before grasping him firmly, feeling every breath, every sob, every whimper, reverberating through you, inflaming every nerve in your body.

His Adam's apple bobs under your fingers, firm in your grip but tender in your passion. Tears spring unbidden to his eyes, falling down his glorious face and filling your heart with such love, such adoration, such utter and complete devotion, that it scares you for a moment, pushing you over the edge at last.

You clench around him, milking his sensitive cock for every last drop of seed, as you ride this new high, this indescribable feeling of power that his submission has wrought in you. You think if you could just hold onto that feeling-

"I feel it too-" his strangled moan is cut short, all the stars in the sky paling in comparison to the pleasure he feels beneath you right now.

You feel him paint your insides, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you until he is spent. Your foreheads pressed together, your limbs entangled, every breath shared in tandem; you would stay here forever. And he would gladly grant his goddess that wish, and any more that your heart desires.

You roll onto your side, limbs shaking with exertion, pulling him to join you, refusing to allow him exit from your wet heat. He huffs a small, relieved sigh, not wishing to be parted from you either.

His iron embrace never fails to comfort you, and it is especially firm tonight. Your heart swells at the thought that even after surrendering to you so entirely, so perfectly, he still needs to hold and shelter you, can't give up his role as your protector even at his most vulnerable.

"We should do that again, love." You murmur, feeling his smirk against your neck.

"Whatever you desire, my Queen," he peppers your neck with tender kisses, sensing you are close to sleep. "I am yours, you are mine-"

"And always will be." You interrupt with a sleepy smile, provoking a chuckle.

Sauron can only watch you enthralled, as you drift off, content, your limbs entwined with his, reluctant to follow you into sleep after tonight's events. Perhaps, yielding control is something he should master, he muses; after all, you did seem to be utterly delighted with the turn of events, and he is nothing if not a loving Lord, a devoted husband enthralled by his wife to distraction.

You slip into dreaming, holding onto him as if for dear life, relishing in the feeling of being so loved, so obeyed.

Your brain is empty, but your cunt is full, and your heart is happy.

[m-eowdy]

Btw I neeeeeed the "two characters get spooked and grab each other's hands instinctively" trope for Charles and Edwin in season 2

[faaun]

and also just adding onto that, the recent wave of like armchair diagnosing ppl as npd is sooo annoying. Like its actually a serious condition, you CANNOT diagnose someone as npd with just one story or interaction. Sometimes ppl are not "narcissistic", they're just assholes? It feels like every second story i hear, there's ppl going "thats a narcissistic trait yk :/" and its like just bc its a narcissistic trait doesnt mean they have npd??

yes defintely !! it's so so harmful and i have not seen any other disorder (except maybe aspd?) get as much demonisation and hate as npd has and it is genuinely so heartbreaking bc it is a serious dissociative disorder that does Not inherently make anyone a bad person and yet !! like the term "narcissistic abuse" and also ppl just generally equating [mostly covert] abuse w narcissism is so immensely Harmful .

anyway i think we should bring back calling people mean, assholes, rude, gaslighters, abusers, etc instead of being like "my mother was a narc abuser so all ppl w npd are abusers and will never change!" etc etc bc it does 3 horrible things:

1) implies all people with npd are abusers

2) implies people with npd are not capable of self-improvement just like any other human being

3) offloads the horrible actions of abusers onto a disorder, thereby taking away the responsibility they had/choices they made in the situation and instead blames the (completely inaccurate + harmful!!) perceived invariability/ubiquitous evil of npd symptoms/traits .

"how to spot a narcissist" babe are we birdwatching now for ppl with a dissociative disorder or...???

[eggmeralda]

the genetics felt so bad for what they did to my parents' first kid's looks that they overcompensated massively on the second kid's looks

[baeshijima]

— stardust

the world is a vast place. in the grand scheme of things, humans are but a speck of dust; much like how you are sure you are nothing but a meagre speck of dust in the world he lives in, forever to be remained unseen. (if only you knew how you are the brightest star he'd ever laid his eyes upon.)

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.5k wc, royalty!au, contract marriage/marriage of convenience, fluff, smitten reca bc what would he be other than smitten, a little hint of bittersweet at the end if read between the lines aha...

A/N : ....i have a paper due monday. i havent started it. why do i do this to myself. (reca i love u can u not hear my cries and wails as fic after fic appears in my brain for u...)

Duke Reca of the northern territory; to many he is a well-accomplished noble, a young genius set for greater things, and the owner-slash-founder of the top theatre company. He is an idol — a role model to those who aspire to be more involved in the artistic side of the world.

To you, however, he is an absolute lunatic, the bane of your existence, and your contractual husband.

It's not like you had much choice. It was either: a) remain as a hollow puppet whose strings danced at your family's fingertips, or b) find some way to escape with outside power.

You, of course, chose the second option. Unfortunately, that somehow led to you meeting the young duke when out in the shopping district, trying to escape the suffocating presence of your family's knights accompanying you by running into a secluded alleyway, even if it was for but a momentary breather.

It was a whirlwind of a meeting... quite literally. Bodies flew; clothing tousled; breaths stolen. Well, at least for you it was like this. He, on the other hand, looked right as rain. (Lucky bastard.) You hadn't realised it was him at first, too absorbed in hasty apologies and the numbing bloom spreading across your backside like a wildfire (really, they ought to incorporate more padding in these flimsy clothes!), but when he uttered an apology of his own for not paying attention to his surroundings with an arm outstretched to help you stand, your mind all but blanked. What was someone of his status doing in a dingy alley? Didn't the newspapers report word of his self-confinement, having not stepped foot outside his manor in fervent preparation of his upcoming performance?

No, never mind all that; wasn't this a blatant opportunity being presented to you? An outside power that could help you escape the clutches of your family...

With gritted teeth, all sense of self-dignity was cast aside as you grasped his outstretched hand with both of your own, gazing into his widened eyes with your own narrowed ones.

"Your Grace, I know this is hardly the appropriate time nor place, but please... marry me!" Your words echoed within the enclosed space. Duke Reca blinked slowly down at you, and it was then you realised you never elaborated. "In... in a contractual marriage of convenience, of course."

"Oh?" he grinned, amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "And what is it you can offer me?"

"I..." Truthfully, there was nothing you could offer which would be beneficial to someone like him who had everything at the tips of his fingers. You were but a speck of dust in his world, merely floating and remaining unseen within his view. But even so, here you kneeled before him, his gaze wholly fixated on a speck of dust such as yourself. If nothing else, you at least had your desperation — a desperation to be your own person. "My lineage may be from that of a baron's, but I am confident I can be of use to you if you would permit it. So long as you accept my offer, I will do anything to aid you, whether that be through practical means or a performance you wish to see."

A beat of silence.

"Ha... haha... ahahaha!!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse than a sore rear and disgruntled self, you were pulled out of your daze by a pair of gleaming carmine eyes, a maniacal grin, and his body, now kneeled just like you were, so very close to your own.

"That determination... how brilliantly you burn with such an expression!" The sheer glee which bled through his tone sent shivers down your spine, having never realised someone so esteemed had such a side to him. The duke breathed a breathy laugh and slightly backed up, his hands still holding your arms. "Alright, I look forward to seeing how brightly you will shine in your performance, my dear leading actor."

...Was it too late to back out and find an alternative solution?

Admittedly so, for the next thing you knew vows were declared and you were moved into the duke's residence. You could still remember your family's aghast expressions the moment you declared you were marrying Duke Reca and thus cutting ties with them. It was oddly freeing to see their contorted faces reveal their true nature.

Life as the duke's spouse was... something, to say the least. His servants and attendants almost seemed to have shed tears of joy at the revelation of their ever so lonely duke (their words, not yours) finally settling down and getting married, asking you questions such as how you both met, what drew you to their duke, who popped the question first, why you chose him of all people, so on so forth. It was... cosy. Something you admittedly weren't very accustomed to, but found yourself welcoming nonetheless.

One thing you never expected was for the duke to have a little pet of his own; a little toad dressed in a miniature beret and matching suit, at that. Assistant Director is what Reca had called her, and you think for someone so obsessed with the arts he ought to up his naming sense. She was also quite susceptible to compliments, something you discovered when commenting on the little toad's cute attire, with the duke's baffling translation of her bashfulness and her own compliment on your own looks. Apparently. You're not really sure, but you're inclined to believe it ever since she claimed a spot on your shoulder.

As the days-turned-weeks-turned-months bled into each other, you found yourself oddly lost at how well-adapted you have become of your new life and the duke's personality. From impromptu displays of affection both in and outside the manor to sporadic radio silence on his end when wholly consumed by his fervent passion for a project, you sometimes wonder just how you're still alive with the amount of heart attacks the man has given you.

But despite his... eccentricities, to put it lightly, there are times where you can't quite put a finger on certain expressions he would make when he thinks you're not looking. They're unlike his (once again, to put it very lightly) passionate eyes when rambling to you during mealtimes about an upcoming performance the troupe has; unlike the sheer mania he can exude when something truly sparks his inspiration; unlike the playfully smug grin he would give you when swooping down in dramatic flair to press a long kiss to the back of your palm; unlike the rare darkening of his expression that you cannot help but stiffen at when something or someone in the troupe doesn't quite match his expectations.

No. These ones are... soft. A kind of tenderness and unprecedented longing able to be identified if scrutinised close enough. It was evident in the ghost-like touches he would trail along your skin, as though afraid just a little more force would do irreparable damage. It was evident in the attention to even the most minute details, having everything from clothing to food to the decor suited to preferences you yourself never realised you had. It was evident in the way unadulterated fondness leaked through his tone when his unique terms of affection for you slipped through his lips when all was silent and you were supposed to be asleep.

"My dearest star..."

...Much like now, it would seem.

The bed dips by where your knees slightly bend, hidden under the beige covers. A familiar musky scent surrounds you not long after, and you find yourself involuntarily relaxing at the comfort it brings as your head further burrows into the pillow.

You want to stay awake, even if it's just for a second longer, to hear what he has to say to your less than conscious state. But, oh, his fingers threading through your hair and softly massaging your scalp and the gentle touch of his forehead against yours and the subtle comforting warmth that rolls off his body in waves does little to help you fight the sleep which easily takes over.

Oh, whatever! You'll just try and catch what he has to say next time.

Eventually your breathing evens out, only soft snores now heard within the large shared bedroom. Upon noticing this, Reca cannot stop the fond smile which lifts the corners of his lips, nor can he prevent the softening of his eyes as he continues to gaze at your sleeping form.

"My dearest [Name]," he whispers into the dead of night. Even now, several months later, he still cannot believe his luck to have run into you in that alleyway. It must have been fate which made him heed its call, urging him he would discover something sure to escape that terrible slump plaguing him for weeks on end.

Sure enough, it brought him to something irreplaceable; something he has been searching desperately for.

You.

And, with the tenderest of kisses pressed to your forehead that would put even the most sickening romantics to shame, he murmurs words of promise against your skin, an oath he swears to uphold no matter the obstacles which stand before him.

"In this life, I will ensure you have only the best of endings."

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

[kachulein]

I guess my dream is quite long and detailed... I reached all 30 tags so I'll finish it off below the cut:

(Also TW: violence/murder for both the tags and below the cut)

He addressed me as Kitty or Kitten and basically treated and talked to me as if I was a cat and he had no bigger joys in life than to "play" with me now.

Me cowering in the corner was even more ironic now because the dynamic man versus cat was kind of established that way

At this point my brain was going into overdrive - how was I supposed to get out of this alive? The only chance I had was to catch him by surprise, sneak around him and escape through the door, so that's what I tried when I felt as if the right moment had come

I quickly got up and dashed around him, he turned in surprise but managed to hold on to me and drag me back before I had been able to fully exit the room

Now I was pressed up against his side and he was making even more snide and disgusting/creepy/predatory comments, really enjoying the thought of me as a human "kitty cat" and anticipating the moment in which he could take my last breath away

He started strangling me with his hands, I'm not sure if he also injured me with a weapon, I only remember how my neck was very bloody afterwards - especially on one side, so he might've injured me there with a knife

But at that point, that wasn't important to me as I was gasping for air and trying my best to make my struggle be heard and scream in some way, shape, or form

I think it was successful as I heard someone running up the stairs while I started getting dizzier with every second, my system screaming for oxygen while I was struggling against his hold

Suddenly, though, the door slammed open and it revealed my cousin standing there, a furious spark of anger in his eyes

He didn't hesitate one bit when he flung himself at the guy, tore him away from me and fell on the bed right next to us with him

Then I only saw him hovering over the guy, taking out a knife and stabbing and slitting his throat, blood splattering out and covering the sheets as the guy's body went limp

It was finally over, I had survived, and my cousin had saved me

When the police arrived we were like "y'all couldn't have come here a bit sooner??"

I met the woman/girlfriend again, she was taken away in handcuffs, looking saddened

As she passed by me she told me she really loved him even though she never liked what he'd done to other people (not just those he murdered, but also the mistreatment of others, etc.)

I asked her if he had been abusive towards her, too, but she told me that he had always been the most amazing and sweetest guy to her and she never had to fear he'd do anything bad to her

I was glad to hear that, I told her that I was sorry it had to end like this and we parted ways on kinda good terms, so to say ???

When I got home I finally had a chance to examine my condition and potential injuries (apparently I wasn't brought to a doctor or hospital?)

My neck definitely had marks on it and you could tell someone had tried to strangle me to death, and then I also found the blood stain on the left side of my neck

But I couldn't recall a moment in which I was injured there, so I thought that I hadn't noticed it while I was almost killed :'))

and then I woke up-

Reblog and put in the tags a dream you had that seems like you're making it up when describing it but it's something you genuinely dreamed.

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[postmortemnivis]

nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.

that was until your worried voice called for him.

you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.

“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”

“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”

you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.

“who’re you looking for?”

you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”

“ghost?”

you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”

“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”

“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”

you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.

"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.

"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."

you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.

you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.

you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved on the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?

"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.

his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.

"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.

you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.

he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.

"love?" he called you.

still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.

"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.

"ghost?"

he shook his head. "simon, love."

"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.

he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.

you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.

this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.

he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.

[bywons]

MORE THAN PRETEND 愛｡ fake relationship

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───tired of playing pretend, they want to make it official with you

𝑜𝑓 ܃ fake bf!enhypen x f!r 2739 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons fluff fake dating au ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 skinship kissing jealousy suggestive? ｡｡｡ ／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 )

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა wow this could've been better, i rushed a lil TT but hope you guys enjoy ^^ !

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG

heeseung’s always been the cool, nonchalant type—someone who can laugh off pretty much anything with that easygoing smirk of his. so, when one of your guy friends throws a casual arm around your shoulders during a group hangout, you expect heeseung to ignore it or joke in to the gossip, at least that's what he should do since you're not his real girlfriend. instead, he goes silent, his dark eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watches the interaction with a clenched jaw.

the shift is subtle, but you know him too well. he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, but the way his gaze follows your every move is unnerving.

“you good?” you ask, stepping closer after the gathering got over, and tugging lightly on his sleeve. his eyes snap to yours, and for a second, something almost dangerous flickers behind them before he masks it with a tight-lipped smile.

“yeah, i'm good.” his voice is flat, the usual playful tone gone. “didn't know you two were that close.”

you arch an eyebrow, tilting your head. “what, jealous?” you tease, hoping to break the tension, cracking him a smile.

heeseung lets out a humourless chuckle, his gaze sliding back to where your friend was standing. “of him? please.” the words are dismissive, but there’s a sharp edge underneath. heeseung finally pushes off the wall and closes the distance between you, his tall frame towering over yours as he dips his head down, his hand slowly caressing your upper hand. “but just so you know,” he murmurs lowly, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that only you can hear, “i’m your boyfriend, even if it’s fake. he doesn’t get to touch you like that.”

before you can respond, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping a possessive arm around your waist. the way he holds you is different—no teasing, no joking, just a raw, simmering intensity that makes your heart race.

PARK JONGSEONG

calm and collected are two adjectives that can define jay the best, a total gentleman— a perfect choice to play your fake boyfriend, the best fake plus one for your uncle's wedding. but tonight, at the party, you see his mask slip. it’s subtle at first—the way his eyes harden when he spots you talking to some random guy by the drinks table, swiftly turning his head away. he doesn't think much of it until the guy leans in closer, saying something that makes you laugh.

that’s when jay moves. he’s at your side in an instant, so swift you down even realise his imposing presence as he slides an arm around your shoulders. “hey,” he says, his voice light but his grip firm. “who’s your new friend?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanour. “oh, uh—a family friend,” you answer, a tight lipped smile, but jay’s gaze doesn’t leave the guy’s face.

“right.” his smile is strained, more of a baring of teeth than an expression of friendliness. the guy glances between you and jay, looking a bit uncomfortable before mumbling an excuse and walking away.

as soon as he’s gone, jay pulls you closer, his hand slipping down to your waist, fingers digging in ever so slightly, your back hitting his chest. “next time,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, hot breath travelling softly down to your neck, “just tell him you have a boyfriend—me.” his voice is low and intense, vibrating through you.

your heart skips a beat. “jay, it’s not—”

“real? yeah, i know,” he cuts you off, turning you to face him. his dark eyes bore into yours, darting across your face real quick, resring on your lips. “but i don’t care. i don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with you,” he leans in even closer, his lips almost touching yours, “even if this is just pretend… you’re mine.”

SIM JAEYUN

the party is loud, laughter and music filling the air as you stand awkwardly by the punch table, watching jake from a distance. he’s talking to someone, a girl with long hair and a smile that lights up her face. his ex. you bite your lips, feeling a dull ache in your chest. it's silly—you’re not even really dating, but seeing him so at ease with her, leaning in to listen, his familiar grin in place, makes your heart clench, makes you feel it was you making his heart flutter instead.

they look like a perfect couple. a real couple, with real feelings for each other.

you turn away, trying to shake off the pang of insecurity by getting out of this place. but before you can slip out of sight, a familiar voice stops you.

“hey, what’s with the long face?”

you glance up, startled to find jake standing right in front of you, concern etched in his features. “n-nothing,” you mumble, forcing a smile. “just —felt out of place, i guess.”

jake’s gaze softens as if he can see right through your flimsy excuse. he steps closer, gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away a worry line that you hadn’t realised had formed. he leans in ever so close, “is it because of her?” he asks softly, nodding back toward his ex. when you don’t respond, he leans in, his eyes locking with yours. “you know she’s just the past, right?”

“but you looked so happy, jake! and we're not even—” “i’m only yours, you hear me?” he whispers fiercely, his fingers tightening around your waist, pulling you into him. “fake or not, you’re the one i want to be with.” his voice is low, almost pleading. “i’m not going anywhere.”

warmth blooms in your chest, melting away the doubts. and when he kisses your forehead gently, it’s like the final seal on his promise.

PARK SUNGHOON

the elevator doors slide shut, leaving just you and sunghoon in the small, enclosed space. his shoulders brush against yours, a stark reminder of how close you’re standing. you glance up at him nervously, noting the sharp line of his jaw and the tense set of his shoulders. why does he look so annoyed? he hasn’t said a word since you two left the event.

you press the button for your floor, stealing another look at him. he’s staring straight ahead, expression unreadable, but you can tell something’s different today. his jaw is clenched, his hands stuffed into his pockets, tension radiating from him.

it hits you then—he saw you talking to that guy earlier. your colleague from work, who’s been too friendly lately.

the elevator jolts slightly as it begins its ascent, and the silence stretches. you clear your throat, shifting nervously, taking a quick glance at his side profile, “sunghoon, about earlier—”

“does he always touch you like that?” his voice is low, cold even, cutting through the still air like a blade, face away from yours, looking straight ahead.

you blink, caught off guard by the question. “what?”

he turns to you, stepping closer until the space between you is almost nonexistent. “your ‘friend’ at the office,” he mutters, his eyes narrowing, leaning his head down as he loosens his tie. “he seemed too comfortable.”

you feel a flicker of heat rising in your chest—he’s jealous. But why? “sunghoon, it’s not—”

“i don’t care what you think it is.” his hand reaches out, gripping the side of the elevator wall beside your head, caging you in. his breath hitches as he leans in, his face just inches from yours. “we might be pretending, but i don’t like it when anyone else looks at you that way. you’re mine.”

the possessiveness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. your heart pounds as you try to process the sudden shift in his demeanour, the unspoken intensity in his eyes, the impossibly fast heartbeat of yours.

“we’re not real, remember?” you manage to whisper, though your body betrays you, leaning into the space between you two.

“then tell me,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. his fingers brush lightly against your waist, the touch sending shivers down your spine. “why does it hurt so much seeing another guy looking at you?”

you stare at him, mouth dry, as his eyes drop to your lips.

“i don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispers, “please..” a desperate plea from his lips as his hands control itself to not pull you in, but you don't wait, and close the gap between your lips. and he pulls you closer, bodies clashing against each other as the kiss escalates. he smirks into the kiss, you're his for real now.

KIM SUNOO

it’s pouring rain, and you’re soaked to the bone, standing under a bus stop shelter that does little to keep you dry. you mentally curse yourself for forgetting your umbrella, shivering as the cold wind cuts through your drenched clothes. just when you think your day can’t get any worse, a familiar car pulls up beside the curb, headlights cutting through the downpour.

the passenger window rolls down, and there he is—kim sunoo, your ‘fake’ boyfriend, his brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and concern. “get in before you freeze,” he calls out, voice muffled by the sound of the rain.

you don’t need to be told twice. you scramble into the car, teeth chattering as you tug the door shut behind you. the warmth of the heater engulfs you instantly, and sunoo’s jacket is shoved into your hands before you can even register what’s happening. “you’re going to catch a cold,” he scolds, his voice laced with worry as he glances at your shivering form, “why didn't you call me?”

you blink up at him, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “i … i didn’t want to bother you.”

sunoo sighs, leaning closer until you can see every droplet of rain clinging to his hair, every crease in his usually cheerful face. “idiot,” he murmurs, voice low and filled with something you can’t quite name. “you’re never a bother to me.”

your heart skips as he reaches out, brushing damp strands of hair away from your forehead with gentle fingers. his hand lingers, thumb tracing your chilled cheek softly.

for a moment, he’s quiet. then, he reaches over, wiping a raindrop from your cheek with the pad of his thumb, the gesture so gentle it makes your heart skip. “do you know how worried i was? pretend or not, i don’t want to see you like this,” he murmurs, his hand lingering near your face.

before you can respond, he leans over and tucks the jacket around your shoulders, pulling you close until you’re huddled against his chest and neck. “you’re mine to worry about,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, then one on the bridge of your nose.

in that moment, under the sound of rain and the warmth of his embrace, it doesn’t feel like an act anymore.

YANG JUNGWON

it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. the plan was rather simple—show up together at the dinner, play the perfect couple in front of his friends, and go home as usual. but then the storm hit, trapping you at his apartment afterward, the rain pouring down outside in heavy sheets, drenching the city.

jungwon sits beside you on the couch, the dim glow of the lamp casting shadows across his sharp features, and you force yourself to look away. his jacket is discarded on the floor, sleeves rolled up as he runs a hand through his damp hair, frustrated by the turn of events. he looks too handsome right now.

it’s quiet, too quiet, with only the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

“looks like you’re stuck here,” he says, leaning back casually, but there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore. you tug the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to stay calm, but the warmth of the apartment and the intimacy of the moment is starting to make you nervous.

“i'll crash on the couch,” you mutter awkwardly, avoiding his gaze, but jungwon’s eyes are on you, piercing, like he’s studying every inch of your face. he doesn’t say anything at first, but then he moves closer, his knee brushing against yours, you shiver.

“you don’t have to,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver through you. his hand rests lightly on your knee, but it’s enough to make your heart race. “you can take the bed.”

before you can respond, jungwon cups your chin gently, turning your face toward his. his touch is soft but firm, like he’s been holding back for too long. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch, as his as well.

“we don’t have to pretend all the time, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, his eyes darkening with something deeper, something real, “it's getting so hard for me…”

your heart skips a beat, and suddenly the fake relationship feels far too real. “jungwon, what are you saying?” you ask, your voice trembling as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, hands falling down to your waist to pull you closer.

“i'm saying,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours, “that i want to kiss you, but in a real boyfriend way, and love you too while at that.”

the rain continues to fall outside, but all you can hear is the pounding of your heart as his lips brush softly against yours, the kiss gentle but full of unspoken emotions, before it quickly melts to an intense one. he pulls away slightly, his breath mingling with yours as he whispers, “stay with me tonight… for real.”

NISHIMURA RIKI

you never expected to find yourself in a fake relationship with riki, of all people—the energetic, mischievous older brother of your best friend. when he overheard you venting about your annoying ex constantly showing up at your favourite hangouts, he had put up a sly smirk and volunteered to be your fake boyfriend.

“think of it as a win-win. i get to mess with people’s heads, and you get a human shield. plus,” he had said, winking playfully, “it’ll be fun.”

you should’ve known that riki’s idea of ‘fun’ involved way more than you’d bargained for.

tonight, at your favourite late-night café, you spot your ex walking in, scanning the crowd. you freeze, heart thudding. before you can react, riki slides his arm around your shoulders, tugging you close. his scent—a mix of citrus and something else uniquely him—makes your pulse spike. it’s only for show, you remind yourself. except … he’s suddenly so convincing.

“hey, baby, you okay?” riki’s voice is loud enough to catch your ex’s attention, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. he leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath tickling your ear. “you’re all tense.”

you fight the shiver that runs down your spine. “stop playing around,” you mutter, but he just smirks.

“i’m not playing,” he murmurs back, eyes twinkling. his gaze flicks toward your ex, who’s now glaring at you both, and riki’s grip tightens around you possessively. “i told you i’m the best at this.”

the next thing you know, riki’s turning you slightly in his arms, cupping your cheek in a way that looks so natural it makes your heart skip. the café lights catch on the gleam in his eyes—intense, focused. your ex is staring daggers at him now, but riki pays him no mind. instead, his thumb brushes your jaw softly, his face hovering inches from yours.

“relax, would you?” he murmurs, but his voice has lost its teasing edge. there’s something almost… protective in the way he’s watching you.

“riki —” you start, but he cuts you off by leaning even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “let me handle this.”

before you can process his words, he pulls you flush against him, his eyes never leaving your ex’s face. then, with a cocky grin, he dips his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

you freeze, heart pounding. when he finally pulls back, his gaze meets yours, unreadable. “there,” he says softly, still holding you close. “you’re mine now. got it?” and from the look on his face, you’re not entirely sure he’s pretending anymore.

© BYWONS, 2024 / do not copy or repost without permission / div cr plutism

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[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL — lando norris (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: whatever you and lando have, it's anything but 'casual'. warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), (situationship?) a/n: i lowkey want chappell roan's casual to be inserted into my brain and OMG this one is too sad

part 2 - casual

"nah, nah. the two of us... it's complicated, y'know? just a casual thing, honestly."

the words echoed in your mind on the flight from london, replaying as the seatbelt sign dinged off.

casual.

the word had always carried a negative connotation, but hearing him say it made you feel so much worse. it made you feel insignificant, as if the months that had passed meant nothing to him, while it had meant so much more to you.

you were anything but casual.

all those nights, the mornings after, the kisses, the rendezvouses. they meant something, didn't they? you thought they did, at least.

the way he'd look at you when the lights dimmed and his voice would turn soft. the way he'd kiss you as if it was what he was made to do.

he knew every inch of you. every freckle, every curve. he knew you better than he knew the tracks he raced on.

but, then again, lando norris was never known for being reliable.

he was young and wild and carefree, a bachelor to be envied by all. a party boy, a flirt, a ladies' man. he was charming and he knew it.

he was good at making people believe that they were special.

everyone loved him. the oh-so charming lando norris. the young driver who had a bright future ahead of him. he was bound to get whatever he wanted, right?

the first night he touched you, the two of you had come to an agreement—no attachment. he made it clear that he didn't have time for anything serious, but that he would love to have fun with you.

you, of course, had agreed to that.

in the beginning it was nothing. 'accidentally' crashing into each other at parties, accompanying the other into hotel rooms, and then disappearing as soon as the sun rose.

but do these 'no attachments' things ever work? it wasn't even a complete month before the two of you became more and more involved and realised you weren't just having fun.

as you exited the airplane, your heart clenched at the thought. the two of you had never actually said anything, but it was there, hanging in the air, almost suffocating you.

the first time you realised it wasn't just fun, you were in the passenger seat of his mclaren. he was on his knees, big blue eyes staring into yours as he flicked his tongue in you. you were so close, you had been for a while. he could tell. his eyes were locked onto yours, a glint of smugness in them. and then, with the tip of his finger, he brought you over the edge.

after you both came, he had crawled into the driver's seat and smiled at you. his lips glistened, his chin damp, and his hair sticking up in places.

"you look beautiful." he said, a hand coming up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"i think i like you." his voice was barely a whisper, and if you hadn't been staring right into his eyes you might've missed what he said.

"yeah, me too." your voice was breathless.

and that was the only time either of you'd ever said anything about it.

was it casual?

then, that one time when you had flown to his family home in the uk and met his parents. they'd welcomed you with open arms and treated you like one of their own, and lando's face had glowed with joy the whole time.

"i still can't believe that lando has such a pretty girlfriend." his mom had said to you, giggling as the two of you shared a bottle of wine.

"mom!" lando had whined from the other room. "can't you just shut up for once?"

"oh, hush! i'm just saying it as it is." she shrugged.

you had blushed furiously at her words, looking down at your feet as you took another sip of the expensive italian wine.

you had thought he would deny the 'girlfriend' title, or at least laugh it off, but he didn't. instead, he grinned like an idiot and you wondered if the wine had gone to his head.

"yeah, guess i got lucky." he'd muttered, and his mom had smiled, nodding knowingly.

when the day ended, you had fallen asleep curled up next to him, his body warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

now, your eyes stung as you walked through the airport, a million thoughts running through your mind.

you'd spent the rest of the week there and it was the best time you'd had in a while. he'd taken you on a day-trip to oxford, but the two of you ended up staying the night at some cottage. he'd held you closer, kissed you harder. you slept together as many times as you could.

fuck, you weren't just casual.

and the time the you woke up in each other's arms, his face buried in your hair, hands wrapped around your waist. he had asked you what your plans for the future were.

"get an apartment in monaco right next to yours so that i can stalk you everyday. binoculars and everything." you had joked.

"really? not gonna say you're going to marry me and have a billion kids and we're gonna grow old together?"

you'd looked up at him, eyebrows raised. and then the two of you had burst out laughing.

"what the fuck, lando. i'm not having a billion kids with you."

he just smirked in response.

or the time when the two of you vacationed in italy with his friends, and at the pier he had introduced you as his 'hotshot pr girl'.

"he's paying me a million dollars to pretend to be his girlfriend because he doesn't like being called a virgin."

"hey!" he'd laughed, nudging you.

"shut up, loser."

and then you'd pushed him into the water.

"i'm never talking to you again." he'd pouted.

"oh yeah, find someone else to have your billion kids with. my uterus will be happy."

or the countless times he would call you in the middle of the night and tell you about his new merch drop, and you'd whine about how it was 2 in the morning and you couldn't give a flying fuck.

and when you had just gotten off the phone with his sister, "flo is such a sweetheart, i love her."

"my sister talks to you more than she talks to me. you know she likes you better, right?" he'd mumbled, looking offended.

"what can i say, i'm such a charmer." you'd said in the most british accent you could muster, and he'd rolled his eyes and shoved your face away.

december came, and cisca invited you to celebrate christmas with them.

"if he doesn't ask you to be his girlfriend, promise me you'll tell him it's over." your best friend has said, looking at you sternly.

you had just sighed in response, shaking your head.

"i'm serious. you don't deserve someone like that. not if he doesn't think you're worth the commitment."

"you're right. i know. i'm just... i'm just scared. i like him so much. i don't know what to do."

the morning of christmas, you'd landed in london and gone straight to his place. he was all dressed up, and you'd almost cried at how gorgeous he looked.

"merry christmas, darling." he'd murmured, and you'd melted at his words. he welcomed you with a kiss, the way he always did.

the day was spent exchanging gifts with his family, watching christmas movies and cuddling under blankets.

his family adored you.

"i'm glad you're here." he said.

"where else would i be?"

"anywhere else."

you smiled at him, and he returned it with a cheshire cat one.

that night, the two of you had been invited to dinner with his parents, and halfway through the meal you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

as you stood there washing your hands, you'd heard the door swing open, and the familiar figure appeared next to you, locking the door behind him.

"lando."

"yeah?"

"what are you doing?"

"i need to wash my hands." he'd shrugged.

you raised a brow at him, looking at him pointedly.

he shrugged again, taking a step towards you.

"you look too good in this dress, can't help it."

you rolled your eyes as he stepped closer to you, fingers about to grasp your waist before you told him to back off.

"what?"

"wash your hands first. didn't you come here to wash your hands? there's no way in hell i'm letting greasy salmon fingers touch me."

and then the two of you had laughed before his lips found yours lips. it felt so natural, the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your lips melted into his.

"lando, we shouldn't." you protested, neck arching as he pressed kisses everwhere.

"shut up." he grabbed your waist before pushing you against the counter, his lips crashing back into yours.

"what happened to your hands? i told you to wash them."

"fuck the hands."

"technically-"

"shut the fuck up." he groaned, dipping a finger between your thighs. "you're dripping. fucking hell."

pulling his fingers out, his knee pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs apart.

you gasped, shifting your hands as you balanced yourself against the counter. his eyes locked in yours as his finger dragged across your core.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty." he whispered, eyes digging into yours.

"lando, please."

"please what?" he asked as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your eyes squeezed shut, head leaning against the mirror behind you. "oh, fuck."

"i asked a question."

you were quick to answer, fisting his shirt as his fingers moved inside you. "please fuck me, oh my god."

he smirked before dropping to his knees, spreading your thighs and pressing his tongue onto your clit. you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth sucking at your clit; eyes rolling back.

his hands grabbed your legs, swinging them over his shoulder. hand sprawled over your stomach, pushing you back against the counter.

when his tongue curled into you, brushing that spot he never failed to miss, you couldn't help but let a loud moan escape you.

lando hushed you; tapping your thigh. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando said through heavy breaths before pushing his face back into you.

biting into your lip, your fingers ran through his curls, admiring the sight of his head moving between your thighs.

your moans filled the small bathroom, the sound like music to his ears.

"lando," your voice was shaky, breath hitching as he picked up the pace, his hands pushing your hips down.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending waves throughout your body.

"oh, god, lando. right there, right there. oh fuck."

and then your body was trembling, and you were gripping his hair, his tongue still moving.

you were seeing stars, vision going white as your legs quivered around his face.

"oh, god." you sighed, chest rising and falling as he pulled his fingers out, smirking up at you.

"c'mon baby, give me one more."

it wasn't casual.

now, walking through the terminal, dragging your suitcase behind you, the tears threatened to spill from your eyes.

maybe he said 'casual' just to tell his friends he was still a player. or maybe, he was referring to the fact that the two of you were just friends who hooked up sometimes.

but whatever he meant, it wasn't the truth.

both of you knew it.

casual wasn't the way he held you close during thunderstorms, wasn't the way he'd make sure coffee was the perfect temperature, wasn't the way he'd look at you as if the world stopped turning.

the way he'd stare into your eyes as the lights turned off, the way he'd press a kiss onto your temple, the way he'd say your name.

it wasn't casual.

[giannaln4]

GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day four.

Cockwarming (1.5k words)

summary: Your idea to have your boyfriend inside you while you watched a movie didn't turned out how you expected.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, cockwarming, stablished relationship, unprotected sex

You had been thinking about it, definitely a lot, especially when you’re both tired or just enjoying each other’s company and need to feel him close, but you never had the guts to say it. Today was no exception. 

With the day off, you and Lando decided to lock yourselves at home and do nothing but enjoy each other, just like you did whenever you had the chance. Today’s plans included cooking together, and eating your dinner in front of the TV as you forced Lando to watch a movie you had been begging him to watch — those types of movies that always made him groan, stating he would hate them, even though he always ended up loving them.

You were doing just that, cuddling on the couch while you enjoyed his warmth behind you after a delicious homemade dinner. It was like any other cuddle, until he started stroking your hip, softly up and down with his big hands. Then up to your sides and to your neck. He just loved touching you anywhere really whenever he could, and tonight his touches weren’t sexual; in fact, they were all too familiar, but the way his wandering hands felt against your skin made you feel different, almost as if you were hungry for more.

“Lan?” You whispered after taking a deep breath, getting ready to spit those words out. He hummed in response, his hands moving down to your hips again as he kissed your uncovered shoulder. “I was thinking... uh, we could- I want to try something." He looked down at you as you tilted your head to look at him.

“What’s that?” He asked, curious.

“I feel- I just want to feel you close to me,” you mumbled, blushing as soon as the words left your mouth.

“Oh.” If you were suggesting what he thought you were suggesting, he definitely couldn’t believe it. You were always a little shy when it came to asking to try new things, but he could never say no to you, not when you were looking at him like that. “How close?”

“Like really close.” 

A wide smile appeared on his face, his hands wandering around your body more desperately than before. “Yeah?” He asked, and you just nodded, hoping he would understand where you were going with this and just do it so you wouldn't have to actually spit the words out. But of course, that was never the case with him. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you, baby.”

You let out a sigh. You knew he’d make you say it but you really didn’t want to say it. “Can you like... I- I was just thinking that maybe we could-” You stopped talking; you were really hoping you didn’t have to say it, but with a look, he urged you to continue, “I want you inside me." You finally forced the words out.

His smile grew bigger as he got closer to your ear — so close, you could feel his breath against your skin. “You mean you want my cock inside you?” He whispered, his voice suddenly dropping low.

“Yes.”

Your heart started to race when you felt him shifting behind you, reaching for his joggers. “While we cuddle? You want me inside you while we watch a movie?” 

“Yes please.” 

He slid them down, working to harden his cock just enough to slip it inside you, which wasn’t to hard to do considering he started to feel some kind of way as soon as he realised what you were asking for. Your curiosity got the best of you, so you turned around to watch him give himself a few strokes, his own spit coating on his cock.

He closed his eyes for just a moment, his breathing staining a little at the feeling. You’re almost mesmerised by the view, but you were pulled out of your thoughts once he opened his eyes again and instructed you to position yourself. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, and you immediately obliged. "C'mere.”

You went back to your previous position as you pushed your panties to the side, rolling up your shirt, and waiting for him to get comfortable behind you. He used his already wet hand to find your pussy, letting out a shaky breath as soon as he touched you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered against your ear. “How am I not gonna fuck you right now?” He pulled his hand away and lifted your leg a little, allowing him to align himself with your entrance “Ready?”

You nodded in response, and just a second later you felt his tip, and then the rest of his cock slowly inching into you. You both let out small whimpers, followed by a quiet ‘fuck’ when he was filling you completely.

Everything was already too much for your poor body. When you first considered this, you thought having him stuffed inside you and feel him close would be enough, and maybe in another occasion it would, but right now, you couldn’t help yourself from shifting a little every now and then, using all your strength not to properly move against him or squeeze his cock that was now resting inside you. 

The movie you were watching quickly became background noise for the both of you as you tried to stay calm, but your neediness got the best of you as you let out an involuntary moan. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” Lando asked, clearly teasing you as he continued stroking your hip.

You shook your head, trying to bring your full attention back to the glowing TV, which resulted impossible. He was feeling it too, but he needed you to break first.

The minutes started to feel like hours, and you were certain that you could feel your wetness dripping down your thighs. Lando, the sweet boyfriend he was, decided to give you the little push that you needed.

He moved his hips forward a little, calm and slowly, sliding in the only part of him that wasn’t already inside you. “Sorry, love. Was starting to slip out.” 

Your nails dug into the couch, holding a whimper as you swallowed hard, and a single drop of sweat fell down your forehead. He thought it was impressive how well you were holding yourself together, and he almost gave in, not really wanting to waste any more time, until he heard you speak in a weak voice.

“Please, just fuck me already.”

A big smile appeared on his lips, placing his hand firm on your hip to get a hold of you. At this point, he was as desperate and throbbing for you as you were for him, so he was happy to satisfy you. “Though you’d never ask.”

His body was pressed close to yours as he slipped out of your heat before giving a solid thrust into you. Lando started pounding, slowly at first, but he quickly picked up his pace like his life depended on it, and right now, it felt like it did. His fingers dug into your waist, breathy wimpers filling your ears as his hips slapped against yours. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

“Fuck, so good,” you breathe out, slightly turning your head to capture his lips in a needy kiss. Your own fingers found your clit, rubbing small circles as you lifted your leg a little more for easier access.

His hand left your hip and pushed yours away to pleasure you the way he knew drove you crazy, and the fact that it was his fingers instead made you squirm and clench around him, moaning at how good he made you feel.

“Mhm, squeezing me so good.” He mumbled into the kiss, and your head immediately dropped back to where it was.

He leaned down, leaving wet kisses from your shoulders and all the way to your jaw, whispering sweet nothings as he continued to please you.

“‘m close.”

“Yeah? Cum for me, baby,” he encouraged you. You could feel your orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach, his words pushing you towards your edge even more. 

A few more thrusts, and you were already there, your body convulsing against his as he slipped in and out of you a few more times before his fingers left your pussy and dug into your skin again, this time as he came inside you. His head dropped into your neck as he growled in satisfaction.

Once he fully stopped his movements, you both remained still in that position with his softening cock inside you, trying to catch your breath. Lando was running his fingers down the side of your body, admiring you from behind, and you can’t help but let out a giggle at how your little idea turned out.

“What’s so funny?” He asked, almost offended

“Sorry, I didn’t think trying this would end up in us having sex in the middle of the movie.”

“Boring movie anyway.” He joked, laughing when your elbow softly hit him in the chest. “We should try it again sometime; the cockwarming, I mean, felt nice before you begged me to fuck you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop your face from turning a bright red.

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[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 3

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : life on campus with a killer on the loose, the FBI makes an arrest word count : 2k warning : canon-typical violence, swear words (one use of the f-word) A/N : thank you so so much for all the love on this story !!! I'm so glad you all enjoy it <333 I'll probably do a part 4, it may be the last part, idk yet :)

part 1, part 2, part 4

"Spencer, I realise your concern, but lots of women look somewhat like this." It wasn't lost on Spencer what Hotch was trying to do by calling by his first name. "Hotch, she- she could be right next to them. She fits his type right down to the colour of her eyes!" "Spencer, man, you need to think rationally." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Lots of women have that hair colour and length, it's in style right now, right Emily?" "Yeah, definitely." "Look, I just- I need to make a call."

When Spencer had called you sometime in the evening, you'd been expecting him to tell you he was going to come home late and to not wait up for him. What you weren't expecting was for his voice to be the most serious and stern you'd ever heard it. "Don't go outside until I come home, okay?" He knew it was entirely irrational. The unsub only took women in broad daylight, you weren't facing any more risks than usual. But he couldn't take a chance. Not with this. Not with you. "What? Why?" "Just- I'll explain everything when I come home, I'll be there in a couple hours, but please, don't leave the apartment. And make sure everything is locked." "Spencer, what's going on?" "Can you just-" He paused, forcing himself to remain calm. "Look, do as I say, please. I'll explain everything later, I promise." You hesitated for a moment. Luckily for you, you weren't working at the bar tonight. Luckily for Spencer, you liked him enough to indulge him. "Okay." "Thank you."

"Oh my God, no, absolutely not!" "Y/N, it's for your safety, don't you understand that?!" "My safety? What about my life?"

This was the first real fight you'd ever had. You'd had disagreements, of course, he didn't like you leaving your empty cups and glasses all over the place. You told him off for waking you in the morning by making too much noise. Sometimes you'd get jealous if Geoffrey slept in Spencer's bed rather than yours. Yes, you'd had your fair share of arguments, but none quite like this.

"I'm not asking you to give up your life, you're being totally-" You scoffed loudly, interrupting him. "Spencer, you might as well! Do you realise what you're suggesting I do? You want me to give up on going outside, not go to any of my classes, not see any of my friends, not go to work, don't you see what bullshit that is? It's putting a cross on my social life, my education and my work!" You gesticulated angrily as you speak, feeling heat rising to your face. "I already told you, it's for your own safety." He sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He wasn't even looking at you. A tiny, tiny piece of you wanted to slap him. "I will not stop living my life because some psycho thinks it's fun to kill innocent girls! I won't!" You crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to stomp your foot.

"You're being incredibly childish right now." You hated how he managed to stay calm. You wanted him to get just as angry as you were, livid even. It wasn't fair that you were the only one getting upset. "Are you making all the girls who look like me give up everything for the sake of their safety?" Your tone was mocking and mean but you didn't have it in you to care at the moment. He met your eyes at last, lips turned downwards into a frown. Finally, some sort of emotion. "Don't do that, Y/N," he warned in a low voice. "No, I think it's a valid question. Is your boss making an announcement to the press that all the girls in Mary Washington University who look like the three last girls should stay inside? Is he?" you pushed. Spencer looked away from you again, shaking his head in disbelief at your attitude. "No, he isn't."

"Then why do you expect me to do that?!" You threw your hands in the air, beyond frustrated. For a logical person, Spencer's behaviour wasn't making any sense at the moment. "I don't expect you to do it. I want you to do it, I need you to do it." You could feel his calm facade breaking, piece by piece. "Why, Spencer, fucking why?!" "Because!" He finally exploded, jumping to his feet and slapping his palms onto the table. You didn't jump. "Because it's you, Y/N! I can't work this case if I know you're in danger every single day! If I know yours could be the next dead body students ogle at on the university's front lawn! If I know it's your picture they're going to hang up next to the other victims! I just can't do it!"

Oh.

You let yourself fall down on the couch, running your hands over your face. You were both stepping into uncharted territory. You'd tip-toed this line before but had never crossed it yet. And this was not the way to do it. You were not going to cross the border from friendship into something more by screaming at each other. Spencer seemed to read your silence as distress.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell." He softly trudged over to the couch and sat down next to you. "No, it's okay, I- I kind of wanted you to. I'm sorry for getting so upset." You take his hand in your lap and intertwine your fingers. "I understand, I'm asking too much of you, it's selfish." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I just can't stand the thought of anything happening to you." You sit in silence for a little while, processing.

"I just can't hide while I wait for other girls to be killed, Spencer, it wouldn't be fair." Sometimes, Spencer hated how good of a person you were. If your morals and personal ethics were some of the things he liked about you the most, he couldn't help but curse them in this moment. "I don't care about fair," he mumbled, hating how puerile he sounded. You cooed and laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, I'm sorry."

"I won't promise you anything, but I'll try to always be with someone around campus. I'm usually with my friends anyway. And I can share my location with you all the time if that's reassuring for you." "I'd like that, thank you. And... what about when you're at work?" "I can ask Paul to walk me to my car." Paul was the manager at the bar you worked at, Quantequila. His past was a mysterious blend of prison, MMA fighting and crochet clubs. He liked you plenty and you knew he wouldn't mind walking you to your car for a while. "Thank you."

Over the next week, you did just that. Many students started moving in groups and avoiding being alone at all costs after the FBI released the profile and the pictures of the last victims.

"We're looking for a local white man, early twenties. He may have moved here a year ago, we figure he's either in his first year of BA or MA. This is someone you don't notice, he's shy and introverted, he doesn't participate in class and he won't talk to people if he can help it, especially not women. This man is a loner and does his best to be invisible. We think he stalks his victims for a while before attacking them, so if you start seeing someone you've never seen before in strange places, please notify us. My name is Aaron Hotchner and you'll find the hotline on the screen you're watching this on."

You always had at least two friends with you whenever you were roaming about on campus. Though no one really spoke about the situation, the energy had changed. People were becoming tense and suspicious. Friends were fighting over who should accompany who, when and where. A place which had once gathered so many motivated and joyous students now had those very people looking over their shoulder.

You hated it.

Truly, you didn't want to underestimate this killer, but you were getting tired of it all. You'd wish the BAU would just catch him, but, as Spencer had explained to you multiple times, they had incredibly little to go on. What you knew without him telling you was that they needed another victim to predict his next move. Still, you were a person who appreciated alone time and you had gotten none in the last 10 days. So, when two of your friends who were supposed to walk with you from your class to the subway bailed on you, you weren't that upset.

You put your headphones on, listening to your favourite song of the moment and started walking. You had a tendency of getting lost in your thoughts and didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps following your own over your music. What you did notice though, was the reflection of someone walking close behind you in a cafe window. You looked over your shoulder, frowning. The sun was in your eyes, blocking your vision, but you managed to perceive an average-sized man with long-ish black hair which hung around his face in greasy strands. Not thinking too much of it, you continued on your way.

You didn't think too much of it when you saw him sitting a few tables away from you when you were studying one afternoon at the library. You were captivated by the Middle English poem under your eyes, wondering what the author had meant with the particular use of the kenning "earth-cave". When you looked up and caught his eyes, cold and unnerving, you didn't overthink it. There were some weird people on campus. Who were you to judge?

When you saw him at your grocery store, though, that was when you started worrying. You were picking up a box of After-Eights for Spencer when you saw him looking at oatmeal raisin biscuits. What really tipped you off was that no one really liked those, so he must have been pretending to look occupied. A chill ran down your spine as all the other places you'd spotted him came back to you. Your lecture hall, the cafeteria, sitting in the lawn under a tree, the main hall,...

You decided that the next time you would see him, you'd tell Spencer. You didn't want him to worry if this turned out to be nothing. Maybe the man was just an exchange student? Or had joined during the academic year?

Two days later, the FBI made an arrest. A man named Ben Colton fitted the profile exactly. In his dorm room, they'd found pictures of women who looked exactly like the last victims and of resembling women on campus, you were part of them. You didn't know that, Spencer had felt you didn't need to be aware of that specific detail. The only problem was that the BAU had no physical evidence tying him to the crimes yet. The arrest had been sanctioned by higher authorities while physical proof was searched for. Police dogs and officers had been tearing through all of his possessions while Garcia had gone through his entire online life. Nothing tying him to the murders had been found.

The general public knew nothing of this, of course. To them, someone getting arrested meant they could go on with their usual lives. The man you'd been seeing left and right had left your mind entirely as you celebrated your regained freedom with your friends.

Of course, Spencer had warned you. They were 99% sure this was the unsub, they just needed the evidence. That didn't eliminate the 1% chance it wasn't him. But 99% chances were good enough for you. You trusted the BAU. Specifically, you trusted Spencer. With your life.

So you started living your life normally again. You left for class a little later because you didn't need to walk with your other friends. You stopped sharing your location with Spencer. You put the volume of your music higher again. You started leaving your pepper spray at home. You started texting while walking again.

Needless to say, you were wholly unprepared for the violent blow to your head as you walked to class one morning. How ironic, you thought as you blacked out, that Mary Goldman had probably experienced the same thing exactly two weeks prior.

Taglist : (all of you who asked for a part three <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina @venomsvl @user-3113s-blog @pumpkin-cake @redros3y @faunrasthewinterelf @puppykinsthepotato @bookishnerd1132 @bonza-bear @teeshamcbeesha @hades-disappointment-child @princesssparkle2024 @darlingcharling-blog @yasmin12312 @khxna @jamieeboulos

[tinydefector]

Do you think cybertronians ever get a bit freaked out on how tough we are? Yes they can break us like toothpicks but humans seem to be able to take a good beating as well with adrenaline helping. Even our own body and oxygen trys kills us and yet we stick around like roaches. We're fragile in some reasonable and dumb ways and then resilient in the most dumbest ways.

Oh definitely, alot of the bots are very off put by how fragile humans are just in general and tend to avoid them.

But then there's the moments like Ratchet working a late shift and a small knock on the door alerts him someone's there, he turns around expecting it to be Rodimus or Whirl who he's about to scold but instead it's one of the humans and they look worse for wear. After fussing over them for a moment, detailed scans relay fractured ribs, a broken collar bone, and a heap of bruises and yet the humans just like. "Can I have some Panadol, Nurophen, and a glass of water?" Because they don't know what else to do its what they would get. Most of the times they ended up in the hospital. Ratchet is losing his God dawn mind as he rushes around looking for the best painkillers he can find for orgaincs in the smallest dosage he can give, hoping to primus it doesn't shut their heart down. In the end, they end up on a medication that makes them extremely drowsy, almost like the green whistle/ Weed.

Ratchet ends up doing alot of study on the human body and realises just how fucked up little monsters we are. We literally need oxygen to survive but he we have to much pure oxygen it will kill us. Water, we need a certain amount of it, if we don't have enough we will get dehydrated and die, if we have to much we will get water poisoning, intoxication, or a disruption of brain function. This happens when there's too much water in our cells, such as the brain and blood cells, causing them to swell. When the cells in the brain swell, they cause pressure in the brain, resulting in death. The issue is that it can become an addiction to drinking too much water for the effect it has on the body. Same with nearly everything we consume, it can kill us, but we need a lot of it in moderation.

Human: "I just need some basic pain killers and a nap"

Bot: "No, you need full surgery, sedations, and 3 weeks of recovery!"

Human: "nah she'll be fine!"

Bot: "Absolutely Not, bed now before I cuff you"

____________

Following that imagine a first contact AU where Cybertronians and humans are just slowly getting to know how the other works and next thing a human is kneeling over in horrific pain and it send the bots all into panic mode trying to help them, wondering what's happening and thinking they are dying. And the human after about ten minutes some pain killers still looking rather pale and unhealthy just go. "Sorry about that fuck I hate, Cramps/palpitations/ phantom pains/ and such" and the bots are just looking at them horrified like.

Bot: NOT NORMAL!!!"

Human: what you talking about?

Bot: everything that just happened you literally just short circuited!

Human: nah that's causal wait till you see the really funky shit.

______________

Human pet AU

Cybertronian's keeping humans as pets is like humans keeping hamsters. Humans are some of the most homicidal, suicidal and just deranged creatures that Cybertronian's could keep as pets. It's gotten to the point that they are a luxury/ exotic pet because if you do not feed them the right stuff, give them the right amount of light and socialising, and they will just die. There are so many Cybertronian's who take their human into clinics worried as and its just the human being a little bustard because they didn't get the treat they wanted 2 weeks ago and are still holding that grudge. Not to mention, we are prone to causing as much trouble and issue. We are like cats.

But we are also very easily sick and primus forbid a human gets sick because to a bot they think it's a death sentence for their sweet little spitfire of a human who they have had now for ages. And the human looks ready to die, and the next day, they are up and about like nothing ever happened.

Human: if you don't feed me the meals I want I'm going to pretend to die. If you do feed me what I want I might actually die because I shouldn't be eating it.

Panicked bot: "MY HUMAN HAS GOTTEN SICK. HELP!?!"

Human: totally worth it.

_________

In conclusion, the cybertronians are rather wary/ concerned about how resilient humans really are.

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