#but his blaze is VERY distinctive

[darkwood-sleddog]

Eva "Short" Seeley, the mother of the modern Alaskan Malamute, running dog teams in the early 1930s.

I recognize a couple of very distinctive early malamutes, including dogs from the very first litter born in 1929, Gripp of Yukon and Kearsage of Yukon (potentially their littermate Finn of Yukon also). Lovely to see how little these dogs have changed since their inception.

Finn (left) and Kearsage (right) below:

[dksartz]

Sketching some kitties from photos :)

Top left is a stray black cat in the sun, below him is another stray cat, a tabby I call Alice. Below that is my sister's cat Piper being goofy ^_^

Top right is my first cat, Ella (male) who was a gorgeous classic tabby with no brown tones to his fur at all, below him is my current ginger boi Edison, and at the lower right is another of steph's Piper 😊

[asmutwriter]

American Beauty/American Psycho (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: You are an introverted woman. Working at a local book shop, keeping to yourself, not really on any social media. However, one small act of kindness makes you appear on the radar of a very specific superhero.

A/N: I didn't know what title to call this story, I had 'devil' and 'angel' playing on my mind. But then I was listening to Fall Out Boy and 'American Beauty/American Psycho' came on and I thought it was perfect for this story. So it is very, very loosely based off of that song

WORD COUNT: 2292

Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, fire, burning house

DISCLAIMERS

-  This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

You run a finger through your hair. Letting out a sigh as you look at the pile of books before you. The small library you work in had closed for the night. You had the job of putting back all the forgotten books into their rightful place. Taking out all the different genres, placing them into their corresponding piles. Going to each shelf and placing them alphabetically in their correct places. You take a step back. Nodding at your work as you move onto the next section. Doing this for each of the small piles you'd managed to accumulate.

Once you had done this you make your way down the isles. Making sure there aren't any late night readers or sleeping students inside before you lock up. Thankfully there were none. So you head outside. Pulling the door too before locking it. Jiggling the handle to check it was locked. Placing the keys into your jeans pocket as you make your way through the chilled night air. Wrapping your arms around yourself. It was early autumn so you hadn't quite gotten used to the warm days yet chilled nights. Not having dressed appropriately for it. Only a thin hoodie keeping you warm.

Your nose catches scent of something. Causing you to stop in your tracks. You look around. Listening. Trying to see anything. Then you spot it. A blazing building. "Fuck". You mutter. Running over as you watch the building going up. Before you can think about anything else you hear a piercing scream through the night. Running over as you see someone by a downstairs window. A young boy, his fingers scrambling at the frame. Retracting his hands at the heat. You motion at him. Yelling through the night. "Stand back". Going into your pocket and taking out a pen. He stands back a little way. You wrap your fist around the item. Smashing it into the glass. Shattering. Reaching inside you pull him out. Holding him as he coughs. Moving him a safe distance away.

"My mum. Shes in the house. Plus my sister". You look back. A loud crack. You turn back to the boy.

"Do you know what floor they are on?"

"Top floor. I think the top floor". You nod. Hands on his shoulders as you keep his gaze.

"Stay here". You run back over. "Fuck". You mutter. Going in through the open window. "Hello!" you call out. No answer. You go to the door to the rest of the house. Pulling your hoodie sleeve up over your hand as you open the door handle. Feeling the heat grow intensely around you as you enter what looks like a living room. A body lies on the floor. Going over to it. You crouch down. Checking for a pulse. Nodding to yourself as you feel the slight beat of her heart. You grab her arm. Pulling her up as you sling her over your shoulder. Going back to through the house to the open window.

You aren't sure how but you manage to get the woman out of the window you entered through. Contorting yourself with her still over your shoulder. Going over to the boy as he watches. Tears staining his cheeks. "Mum!" he sobs. You lie her on the floor. You place your head near her chest. Hearing a soft yet distinct heart beat. The boy kneels down. Taking her hand in his.

"Stay here with your mum". You stand up. Rushing back over to the building. Climbing through the window as you are met with a monstrous fire. The room you were just in now fully engulfed in flames. Lapping at the sofas in the living room. You spot the stairs. Making a bee line for them as you dart up them. Hearing the sound of them slowly burning away as you go up. Three closed doors.

You stay silent. Hearing the crack of the fire below you. The distant sound of a toddler crying. You dart to the door the noise is behind. Opening it you see a very young child crying. Hands on the edge of her crib as she looks at you. You go over to the bed. "Shh" you try to soothe her. Picking her up and holding her close to you. "Its ok. You're ok". You go to the door again. Going to walk down the hallway. Seeing the fire now licking up the stairs. Destroying your only exit. You cradle her close to you as you go back into the bedroom. Shutting the door behind you. Grabbing a blanket form the side and placing it under the door. Trying to prevent the smoke from coming through.

The child still cries as you hold her close to you. Trying to soothe her as you turn around. Just as you hear a loud cracking noise. The middle of the floor starts to cave into the fire below it. Not daring to move, scared the floor will give out completely. You stay close to the wall. Pressing yourself a flat against it as you can. Among the crackle of the flames you hear voices. Firemen must've arrived. You call out. Your voice dull against the noise of the fire, and the slowly falling floor.

"Help. Please help". You call out. A soft sob coming through your voice. The door opens. You look. Expecting to see men in yellow enter. Instead, seeing a blue suit. Being met with his equally blue eyes. You'd seen him on billboards and newspapers. Homelander. He goes to walk into the room. "No!" you almost yell. Hand going outwards. Motioning at the floor.

He stills. Looking at you. Then the floor. Analyzing the situation before his gaze going back up to you. He outstretches one of his hands. You go to move towards him. The all to familiar sound of the fire making you still in your movements. You shake your head. Causing him to take a step closer to you. You move the child. Handing her to him.

"Get her out please". He looks at you. Going to say something but you move the girl closer. "Take the damn child!" you say. Fear in your voice as it fills the room. He takes her from your hands. Holding her close as he looks behind him. Then at the floor in front of him. Obviously assessing his best way out where the girl is unharmed. You watch as he looks at the ceiling. His eyes lasering a hole into it. He flies the girl out. You let out a breath. Glad the young child is safe.

The floor jolts slightly. The suddenness making you take it a sharp breath. Shutting your eyes as you press further into the wall. Your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Making you unable to hear anything else around you. The crack happens beneath you again. You fight back the tears. Pushing your lips together.

You jump as you feel something touch your arm. Eyes flying open as you meet Homelanders gaze. His hand on your upper arm. "Wrap your arms around me". You try to move. Lifting your arm up just as another creak fills the room. Your arms going firmly back to the wall. Shaking your head as you look at him

"I-I cant" you whisper. The floor cracks again.

"Yes you can". You shake your head. Shutting your eyes again. Feeling the floor start to shift under your feet. A soft whimper escaping your lips. "I'll catch you". You look at him. Wide eyed. The terror evident in your features. "Trust me". You watch his eyes. His still. Calming against yours. Slowly lifting your arms up. Trying to ignore the fire slowly eating its way through the floor. He puts an arm around your waist. You gently put your arms around his neck. Just as the floor falls out from under you. Your soft grip on him changes as you cling to him. Hiding your face into his shoulder as the comforting feeling of floor gets whisked away from under your feet. He remains hovering. The warmth of fire licking at your feet as he flies up. Away from the heat.

Your mind to overwhelmed by everything, plus hiding into his shoulder. You don't take in the fact he's taking you out of the previously made hole in the ceiling. Flying both of you out safely. Your legs nearly give out from under you as they hit the soft ground. Your arms still clinging to him as you tilt your head slightly. Looking at the paramedics tending to the unconscious girl on the ground. He gently rubs the lower of your back. "I'm going to need my neck back". He whispers into your ear.

"Shit. Sorry" you unwrap your arms. Going to move away from him. Wobbling slightly on your feet. Your arms coming out to balance yourself. He brings his hand out. Stabilising you by holding your arm. He tilts his head down. Looking at you through his lashes. Swaying slightly as you regain your composure. You look over at the woman on the floor. Her son sat next to her as their young daughter gets checked over by a paramedic. "Is she ok? Will she be ok?". You look at the blue eyed hero. Eyes tiredly scanning his face.

"They are doing everything they can do make sure she lives". You look back at the woman. Thats when you notice the small group of people. Neighbours all wrapped in coats and dressing gowns as they watch the scene before them. Some with their phones out. Recording the situation. Recording the fire. Recording Homelander. Recording you.

A paramedic comes over to you. You watch as his lips move. Obviously speaking to you but your overwhelmed senses don't take in what he says. You shake your head at his words. "I need to go home" you whisper. Looking at the crowd of people.

"Miss we need to make sure that you're ok".

"I'm ok". You smile at the paramedic. Homelander watching you as he keeps his grip on your elbow. "I promise I'm ok".

"Why don't we get you checked out, hmm?" Homelander says. You look at him. A smile on his face. You shake your head.

"I don't want to be a hassle. You've got the woman and her children to prioritise over me".

"You are just as much my concern as they are. Please miss" the paramedic says. Smiling at you as he takes the arm that was being supported. Taking you over to an ambulance. Checking you over. Once hes confirmed that everything is ok with you, he gives you the all clear to go home. Saying that they can organise transport but you insist on walking. You turn to try and find Homelander. Wanting to thank him for saving your life. But you see him talking to a news reporter. You press your lips together. Turning on your heels as you make your way back to your home.

You open the front door. Having a quick shower, changing into your pyjamas, then getting into your bed. Trying to fight the pesky nightmares. It isn't much after 8am when you hear your bedroom door burst open. Your curtains being forced back. You let out an annoyed groan. Bringing the covers up and over your head. Your roommate comes over to you. Grabbing the covers and pulling them down.

"Your famous!" she says. You sit up. Blinking your eyes awake as you look at her. She hands you her phone. A video pops up. The reporter from yesterday on the screen.

"A mother and her two children were saved last night from a house fire believed to have started from a cigarette butt. Thankfully no one was hurt, and we can put it down to this anonymous hero who risked her own life to save these three souls. A neighbour recorded the incident - describing it as a miracle and heroic act"

The video cuts to you. Helping the boy out before going inside the building. A few minutes passing, worried voices filling the background before you appear. Carrying the mother out the window. It cuts back to the reporter.

"Although Homelander himself managed to make it to the scene, firefighters and paramedics have both said that if this woman hadn't stepped in when she had then the family of three would have likely all been killed. Just goes to show the world that you don't need powers to be a true hero". You turn the screen off. Looking at your roommate.

"Fuck". You say. You pull the covers off of your legs. Going out into the kitchen. She follows behind as you grab out the orange juice. Filling a glass.

"Did you actually get to meet Homelander?". You place the orange juice back into fridge. Nodding.

"He saved my life".

"Thats so awesome". You scoff. Drinking your juice.

"I wouldn't describe nearly dying as awesome, but I understand what you mean". Placing the cup into the sink. You run a hand through your hair. Lightly massaging your scalp before bringing them down. "I'm going to head to work"

"You nearly died last night". You go over to the bathroom. Picking out your toothbrush. Applying some toothpaste.

"I am aware". You start brushing your teeth.

"And you're going to work?". You nod. Spitting and rinsing out your mouth with some water before looking at her. Drying your hands on a towel.

"Bills aren't going to pay themselves". Lightly tapping her nose. "I'll pick up a Chinese on the way home". You smile at her. Hand motion for her to leave the bathroom. She takes a step out. She goes to say something as you shut the door on her.

Next

[skzdreamer13]

Rest

LeeKnow Cuddle Time 🖤

Minho x Reader

Minho's turn for the cuddle time Chapter!

Thank you @intrikatie, my love for ideas! ♥︎

Cuddle Time Masterlist ~ Here

Info ~ fluff, cuddling

“Ugh, Finally!” You shout as you step out of the passenger side of the car, leaning back with your arms up in the air to stretching your back with a loud ‘ahhh’

Two hours in the car isn’t very long but it was uncomfortable nonetheless. 

"I'll get the tent set up" Minho says as he walks around from the drivers side and plants a quick peck on your cheek.

He smiles fondly at you and walks around to the trunk of the car to start unloading.

After about an hour and a half of setting up you both finally rest in your respective chairs, next to one another with a campfire blazing a few feet in front of you.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" You say getting up excitedly and running over to the car.

Minho raises an eyebrow at you, but you are too preoccupied to notice. When you return you have a large thermos in your hands and as you walk towards him, the inquisitive look on his face still hasn't dissipated.

"Hot chocolate silly! Remember I packed it this morning." You say and excitedly plop back down in your camping chair to pour a cup of hot cocoa for each of you.

"Oh yeah! That's what you were doing? That's sweet." He smiles at you softly as you hand him his mug, and he takes it. He may not be as expressive as most but you cherish when he is, as it's such a rarity. Almost like an occasion. They way his lips curl upwards and his teeth peak out, a cute soft gummy smile that makes him look like an adorable bunny.

For awhile you both sit in a comfortable silence, drinking hot chocolate, watching and listening to the crackle of the fire. One of your hands are intertwined with one of his, dangling your arms slightly over the armrest of your chairs. Anything to be closer to one another.

His thumb is softly rubbing circles into the skin on the back of your hand as he takes a big sip and finishes his drink. As he lets go of your hand to set his cup down, a loud clap of thunder sounds around you.

You jump slightly not expecting the loud, almost booming sound. A wide smile paints his lips and a chuff leaves him as he finds your reaction endearing.

Your eyebrows knit in annoyance and you push his arm slightly as a small laugh leaves him. He gets up and plants a kiss on your forehead before reaching his hand out for you to grab.

You place your hand is his warm grasp and let him guide you out of your chair. You both stand at the end of the covering, that the tarp you set up earlier, provides as the rain starts to pour down.

Minho wraps his arms around your middle as you lean back into him, your mug of hot chocolate warm in your hands as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You both love to just watch the rain together, the sound of water beating down bringing you both peace.

Peace brings relaxation and relaxation brings drowsiness. You start to slump in his hold, laying more of your weight back into him, your head leaned back into his shoulder and the now empty mug is held loosely between your hands. Feeling you start to grow heavy in his arms, Minho grabs the mug from you.

"Let's go to bed." he says and puts the mug away so no critters get at it in the night.

You shuffle over to the tent and are grateful that you both worked so hard earlier to have everything set up as you can just lay down and rest not with no preparations.

You lay down in what is basically a pillow/blanket fort. Four or five blankets on the large air mattress in the tent, dim light from a battery power gives just enough illumination to the small sleeping space. You get under the many blankets, and as Minho enters the tent and zips it close behind him, you reach your hands up making 'grabby hands' at him.

A smile graces his beautiful lips and he crawls into bed beside you. You snuggle in close to his chest letting his distinct smell surround and relax you. His arms wrap around you, he instantly makes you feel safe and attended to.

"Thank you, for making the time to do this with me." Your voice is soft, just above a whisper so he can still hear you over the pitter patter of rain that still comes down above you.

"I'll always make time for you." His arms wrap around you tighter with his words and you feel his sincerity through it.

Slowly you fall asleep surrounded by his warmth and soft rain around you.

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[agentstarkid]

YOU'RE THE STAR OF THE SHOW, YOU SHIMMER LIKE GOLD ✦ LN4

✦ pairing: lando norris x karateka!reader ✦ words: 4K ✦ warnings: female!reader, latina!reader, no use of Y/N, no use of physical description, a little bit of flirting. ✦ may's radio: me, actually writing for these men going vroom vroom??? whaaaaa?? shut up! lol I tried to explain the techniques to the best of my abilities as a daughter and sister to Senseis (and a once upon a (very short) time karateka). I hope it is understandable!! if not, let me down slowly!! SO, Boy-o needs a badass girl in his life PERIODT!!! And let's all pretend Monster gives a fuck about Karate. I've had this idea for lichrally months, dude. And I was supposed to do another thing with it, but here we are hehehe. Also, not using any name or description for this girlie was HARD so I think I deserve some of y'all thoughts ad nauseam 👉🏽👈🏽, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking btw. N E WAYYYZZ. I love u. I hope u like it. k byee <3

— back to general masterlist

The sun blazed over Monterrey, casting a warm glow on the sprawling city nestled against the Sierra Madre Oriental mountains. The streets buzzed with excitement and anticipation as athletes and fans from around the world gathered for the 12th WUKF World Karate Championships. Banners and posters adorned with the tournament’s emblem fluttered in the breeze, while the iconic Monster Energy logo prominently featured alongside, symbolizing the brand’s unwavering support for the event and its athletes.

Among the throngs of spectators and competitors, one figure stood out, drawing the attention of both fans and the media. Lando Norris, the young and charismatic McLaren Formula 1 driver, had been invited to the championships as a special guest of Monster Energy. Known for his prowess on the track and his engaging personality off it, Lando had a magnetic presence that resonated with fans across different sports. 

The event was a world away from the high-octane world of Formula 1, but Lando was excited for the change of pace and the chance to meet young athletes from around the globe. Recently, Quadrant—a brand founded by him—had been sponsoring young athletes in different sports. It was a new venture for Lando, driven by his passion to support and uplift emerging talents. He had been looking forward to finding more promising athletes to add to Quadrant's growing roster, and the World Championship seemed like the perfect place to discover some of that potential.

As Lando navigated the bustling venue, his thoughts were a mix of excitement and curiosity. Though the world of martial arts was vastly different from the high-speed circuits he was used to, the principles of discipline, focus, and determination were strikingly similar. 

He had to admit to himself that before receiving the invitation, he knew next to nothing about karate. In fact, he’d even had to google the sport just to get a basic understanding. Embarrassingly, he had initially thought Karate and Taekwondo were the same thing. The search results had quickly set him straight, teaching him about the rich history and distinct techniques of this martial art, and giving him a newfound respect for the discipline.

He was eager to meet the athletes, particularly one individual who had captured the world’s attention with her remarkable skills and indomitable spirit.

A 20-something karate athlete from Latin America, had become a sensation in the martial arts community. With two world championships under her belt and many other championship victories, she was not only a formidable competitor but also an inspiring figure for young athletes around the globe. She was specially known for her exceptional skills and strategic prowess in kumite, the sparring discipline of karate. 

Sponsored by Monster Energy, her journey had been one of relentless perseverance and triumph over adversity. Her presence at the championships was not just a testament to her talent but also a symbol of her dedication to the sport she loved. And from what he had seen on videos while he was on his way, Lando also saw potential in her for Quadrant, imagining how she could inspire a whole new generation of athletes under the brand's banner.

The sound of rhythmic, powerful strikes filled the air as athletes from around the world prepared for their matches. Lando was led through the bustling venue to the competition floor, where the large tatami mats were situated. As he walked, he could hear the short—some even lasting longer—, loud shouts of "kiai" echoing through the hall, each one accompanying a sharp, strong technique from the karatekas already competing. The intensity and focus behind each shout sent a thrill through him, underscoring the seriousness and dedication of these athletes.

As he approached, he saw her warming up with stretches, under the watchful stare of one of the coaches of her national team. Lando felt a mix of excitement and slight nervousness. From what he had seen on videos from her past fights, she had a really strong presence, commanding the tatami mat whenever she stepped on it. Her intensity and focus were palpable, and he wasn’t gonna lie and say he didn’t think she was a little bit intimidating. And after spending a short—long—time going through her Instagram, he could also admit he found her beautiful, with her fierce determination adding to her allure.

Once she finished her stretching, he could see her coach pointing his way, making her turn around. He was approaching her with one of the energy drink’s representatives. Noticing them coming closer, she took off her earbuds and looked up with raised eyebrows, her demeanor immediately softening.

Actually…he didn’t know how to explain it…but now that he was in her presence, she didn’t give off intimidating vibes. She still had a commanding presence, don’t get him wrong, but she seemed to be more reserved and shy. He could see her fidgeting with the little device in her hand.

“Lando, I’d like you to meet one of our top sponsored athletes. She’s an incredible talent in kumite,” the representative said. She smiled warmly, a hint of bashfulness in her eyes, as she extended her hand.

“Hi, it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your incredible achievements,” Lando greeted, shaking her hand.

“Likewise, Lando. It’s great to have you here. I’ve always admired the skill and courage it takes to race at the speeds you do,” she replied, her voice gentle and modest, a stark contrast to the powerful warrior he had seen in videos. “And congrats on your first win back in Miami!”

Lando was pleasantly surprised. “You know about that? Thanks! I didn’t expect to meet a karate champion who’s also an F1 fan,” he said, feeling a bit cocky despite the bashful smile creeping onto his face.

She laughed softly. “I’ve been a fan for years. Watching F1 races is one of my favorite ways to relax on weekends.”

Lando chuckled, his confidence bolstered. “Well, that’s great to hear. Maybe I can give you some tips on racing if you teach me a bit about karate,” he said, winking playfully.

She laughed again, appreciating his playful attitude. “Deal. I’ll teach you how to throw a punch if you show me how to handle those high-speed corners.”

Lando tried to joke, “It’s all about the neck strength, really,” but let out an awkward little laugh as he got a bit flustered. Her reserved demeanor was deceptive; she could hold constant eye contact with a calm intensity that he wasn’t prepared for.

She smiled, her gaze steady and unwavering. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her eyes never leaving his.

Lando felt a strange mix of admiration and nervousness under her steady gaze. Wanting to know more about her mindset before such a big competition, he asked, “How are you feeling about today?”

She took a deep breath and looked down for a moment, then back up at him, her expression humble yet determined. “If I told you I was completely confident about winning everything, I’d be lying. I have pre-fight jitters, just like anyone else. But I’m going to give it my all. That’s all I can do.”

Lando nodded, impressed by her honesty. “I get that. Even in racing, no matter how prepared you are, there’s always that bit of uncertainty. It’s what makes the victory even sweeter, though, don’t you think?”

She smiled, appreciating his understanding. “Absolutely. The nerves mean you care. They keep you sharp.”

Their conversation flowed easily, the initial awkwardness melting away as they shared insights from their respective sports. Lando admired her resilience and the way she embraced her nerves, turning them into a source of strength.

As the announcements for the upcoming matches began, she glanced towards the tatami, her focus sharpening. “I should get ready. It was really great talking to you, Lando. Thanks for the encouragement.”

“Anytime,” Lando replied, genuinely meaning it. “I’ll be cheering for you.”

She gave him one last smile before heading towards her coach. Lando watched her go, struck by the contrast between her shy off-mat demeanor and the commanding presence she exuded when she was about to compete. He couldn’t help but feel a deep respect for her dedication and the way she handled the pressure—and that was kinda hot to him.

Professionalism, Lando. He scolded himself. She’s an athlete, and you’re here to do your job—or a small part of it. 

As he found a spot to watch the competition, he thought about the unexpected connection they had made. Despite their different paths, their shared commitment to excellence and the way they embraced their nerves set them apart as true champions. Lando knew that whatever the outcome of her matches, she would give it everything she had—just like he did on the track.

He could hear the announcer's voice booming through the venue. “Athletes competing in the Seniors D Female category: 21 to 35 years old and 65 kg and over, please approach the number 3 tatami mat.” He listened intently, waiting for her name to be called. It came in the middle of the list, and he could see the group of female athletes approaching the announcer.

She stayed behind the group, her demeanor calm and composed as she waited to hear her name being called. There was a quiet confidence about her that set her apart from the others. Lando noticed that some of the other girls would steal glances at her, fidgeting with their belts or adjusting their karate-gi in a nervous manner. Her presence seemed to unsettle them, a testament to her reputation and the respect she commanded among her peers.

As the roll call continued, Lando observed the competitors closely. The air was thick with anticipation, and he could sense the mixture of excitement and tension that filled the room. When her name was finally called, she stepped forward with a graceful nod, acknowledging the announcement with a quiet strength.

She joined the others on the mat, and the athletes began their final preparations, mentally psyching themselves up for the upcoming matches. Lando watched her closely, noticing how she seemed to center herself, taking deep, measured breaths and rolling her shoulders and neck to release any remaining tension.

As the roll call concluded, the athletes lined up in front of the referee and judges. Lando watched closely as the referee shouted something in Japanese—a command that he couldn't quite understand. Both parties then performed the ceremonial salute, tilting the upper part of their bodies in a bow. The referee shouted again and gestured towards the flags and the public, prompting another salute. 

After the salutes, the athletes moved to their respective sides of the tatami mat. On the right side, some of them were tying up red belts around their waists and putting on red gloves and knee protections. On the left side, the competitors were doing the same but in blue. She was on the left side, methodically securing her blue belt and adjusting her gloves and knee pads that matched her new karate–gi that had blue stripes on the shoulders.

Lando observed the attention to detail in her preparation. Every movement, every adjustment of her uniform, was part of her mental and physical ritual to enter the competitive mindset. It was a fascinating glimpse into the discipline and dedication required at this level of competition.

After three intense matches—all of them won by her—, the announcer announced the final match. He called for her to stand on the two red tatami mats on the left side of the big blue square tatami. Lando watched as she took her place, her expression hardening with concentration. Just before stepping forward, she gave herself a couple of hard pats to her chest—a ritual, he guessed, to psych herself up for the fight.

Her face was set with determination, eyes focused intently on the task ahead. The referee approached both competitors, methodically checking their mouthguards and ensuring all their equipment was in place.

The formalities concluded, and the competitors performed the ceremonial bows to each other and to the referee. She took a second to walk up to her adversary and offer her hand to shake and a head nod as a greeting. 

That’s a nice, respectful and full of sportsmanship gesture, he thought.

The referee then gestured for them to take their positions and announced the start of the match. Each competitor started to move around each other with their guards up and an intense focus. She moved with a grace and confidence that was mesmerizing, her every step exuding a calm readiness. 

Lando could feel the intensity radiating from both competitors as they engaged in a series of swift, precise movements. Each strike was met with a counter, each block with a follow-up attack. The "kiai" shouts punctuated the air, underscoring the power and focus behind each technique. 

Even though she seemed already tired after her past intense fights leading up to this one, she moved with a fluidity and strength that was both beautiful and formidable. Her opponent was skilled, but she maintained control of the match, her strategic prowess and physical strength shining through. The rhythmic exchange of attacks and defenses was like a well-choreographed dance, each move calculated and deliberate.

He found himself completely engrossed in the match, his heart pounding in time with the athletes' movements. It was only a 3 minute fight but somehow it felt longer. He could see the strain and determination on her face, the way she pushed through every challenge her opponent presented. Her focus was unwavering, her resolve unbreakable.

Suddenly, when her adversary moved forward in a punch, she ducked under—and somehow—managed to lift the other girl with her shoulder and drop her to the ground. In a display of quick and swift precision, she then threw three rapid punches to her opponent on the ground. Immediately, Lando saw every judge in the four corners lift their blue flags high in the air. 

The entire place erupted in excited shouts, the crowd amazed by her impressive movement. On the large screen above, the score shifted dramatically from 3-4 to 3-7 in her favor. Kenneth—the energy drink’s representative standing next to Lando—explained to him that the move she pulled was one that immediately granted you 3 points—the highest score you can get. Lando couldn’t help but cheer loudly, caught up in the exhilaration of the moment.

Her focus was unwavering, her resolve unbreakable. She had turned the tide of the match with a single, decisive move, showcasing her skill and strategic brilliance. As she stepped back, she offered her opponent her hand to help her rise, the referee called a brief pause to reset the match.

The crowd's energy was palpable, and Lando found himself on the edge of his seat, completely engrossed in the action. The match resumed, but it was clear that her opponent was shaken by the sudden shift in momentum. She maintained her advantage, her movements confident and controlled, her strikes precise and powerful.

At one point during the match, she received a hard kick to the ribs, and Lando saw her doubling over in pain. Instinctively, he stood up, feeling a surge of worry for her. The referee immediately called one of the medics, who rushed over to check on her. The medic spent a minute examining her, asking questions to which she only nodded in response. After a few tense minutes, she stood back up, her face hardened with determination, ready to continue.

The referee gave her opponent a penalty for the hard kick before signaling for the match to resume. Once it did, she seemed eerily calm, her demeanor even more focused than before. Her opponent, on the other hand, appeared unsettled, thrown off by both the penalty and the unfavorable score. With only 1 minute and 30 seconds left on the timer, visible on the screen above, the other girl began attacking rashly, desperately trying to close the score gap.

But then, in a fluid, lightning-fast movement, she spun and lifted her right leg towards the back of her opponent's head, delivering a light tap with the heel of her foot to the back of it. The technique resembled a scorpion's strike or a spinning hook kick, in Lando’s opinion. But Kenneth identified it as an "ura mawashi geri." A hard and powerful kicking technique. He explained.

The judges instantly raised their blue flags high, signaling their approval of the impressive technique. The crowd erupted once more as the score on the screen shifted from an already commanding 3-7 to an incredible 3-10. With only one minute left, it was clear she had secured the victory.

Lando's heart raced as he watched her dominate the match. The final whistle blew, the referee raised his hand in her direction indicating her victory, and her teammates as well as the crowd’s cheers reached a deafening crescendo.

As she bowed to the referee and then approached her opponent for a respectful handshake, Lando couldn't help but marvel at her resilience and skill. Despite the setback of the hard kick to the ribs, she had emerged victorious, showcasing the true spirit of a champion.

As she left the mat, Lando could see the emotions overwhelming her. Her coach rushed to embrace her in a tight hug, both of them sharing a moment of pure joy and triumph.

Tears streamed down her face, a mixture of relief, happiness, and pride in her achievement. The weight of all her hard work and dedication had paid off in this victorious moment.

Lando watched from a respectful distance, filled with admiration for her incredible achievement. The crowd erupted in applause, acknowledging her exceptional performance and celebrating her as a true champion.

After a few moments, she composed herself and turned to face the crowd, holding up her hand in a thankful gesture.

As she made her way through the cheering crowd, Lando approached her with a heartfelt congratulations. “That was mental! You were absolutely amazing out there! Congratulations on becoming world champion again," he said, genuinely impressed.

“Thank you so much, Lando,” she replied, her voice still tinged with emotion and sounding a little bit out of breath still. “It means a lot to have your support.”

“You deserve every bit of it,” Lando said warmly. And immediately after, looked at her with concern painted all over his face. He noticed she was still having some trouble breathing and was holding her left arm to her ribs. “Are you feeling alright after that kick you received?” he asked, worry evident in his voice.

She smiled, trying to ease his worries. “Yes, I'm okay. I had the chest guards on under my karate-gi, so it wasn't too bad.” She paused, then added with a light-hearted chuckle, “I did feel the kick, but it's nothing new at this point.”

Lando nodded, relieved but still a little bit concerned. “You've shown incredible strength and determination.” he said, genuinely impressed.

She nodded, gratitude evident in her eyes. “It's been a tough journey, but moments like this make it all worth it.”

Lando smiled, feeling privileged to have witnessed her victory. “Enjoy every moment of it. You've earned it, champ.”

“Thank you, Lando. It feels surreal.”

“You really commanded the mat out there," he said. “It's no wonder everyone looks up to you. You were truly brilliant.”

She nodded, the shy smile returning to her face. “I just try to do my best. It helps to know there are people cheering for me.”

“Well, you've got one more fan in me now,” Lando said with a grin. “I knew you were good, but seeing it in person... you're incredible.”

As the excitement of the victory settled, Lando leaned in slightly and asked, “Hey...uh... I've been thinking. Would you maybe be interested in joining Quadrant?”

She looked at him, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected offer. Her eyes widened slightly, reflecting a mix of surprise and curiosity. After a brief pause, a smile spread across her face, and she eagerly nodded. “Sí! uh…,” she shook her head a few times, like she was trying to shake the language off her head. Cute. “I-I mean yes! I’d be honoured!”

Lando grinned, pleased by her enthusiastic response. “Fantastic! We'll talk more about it soon. I think we could do some amazing things together.”

She smiled warmly, nodding in agreement. “I'm looking forward to it.”

A moment of silence passed before Lando chuckled nervously. “By the way, I should probably explain what Quadrant is all about.”

Before he could continue, she interrupted gently, “Oh, don't worry. I'm actually a fan of the YouTube videos. I know about the brand already.”

Lando's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You do? That's... really cool!”

She chuckled softly. “Yeah, I've watched a few. You guys have some pretty entertaining content.”

Lando felt a flutter in his stomach at her praise. “Wow, I'm glad to hear that! Means a lot, especially coming from someone as talented as you.”

She blushed slightly at the compliment. “Thank you, Lando. I'm excited about the opportunity to work together.”

Lando grinned, feeling a sense of excitement about the future collaborations. “Likewise. I think we can create something truly special.”

As they parted ways, Lando couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement and anticipation for what the future held. Being able to collaborate with someone he admired both as an athlete and as a person was a privilege he didn’t take lightly.

Before they fully separated, Lando impulsively went in for a hug. She hesitated for a moment, looking slightly embarrassed as she was still sweaty from the intense matches. But Lando reassured her with a warm smile, “Hey, it's not a problem at all. I totally understand. I’m super used to the post-competition sweat.” He chuckled.

Her expression softened, and she returned the hug gratefully. As they embraced, Lando felt a sense of something developing slowly within himself. 

Oh, Bob has a crush! He suddenly heard the teasing voice of Max, his best friend, in his head. 

Shut up, you muppet. He groaned. Lando lingered in the hug for a moment longer than intended, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment himself.

When they finally pulled back, he chuckled nervously. “Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “No worries, Lando. Thank you again for your support.”

They exchanged a final smile before she had to part ways, both looking forward to the exciting opportunities ahead. Lando watched her walk away, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities.

As he watched with bated breath as the ceremony began, the announcer's voice echoed through the arena, calling the winners to the podium. When her name was called, the small crowd standing in front erupted in applause and cheers, celebrating her hard-fought victory. 

She walked confidently to the podium, her coach following closely behind. The gold medal was placed around her neck. Beaming with pride and joy, she was handed her country's flag. Draping it around her shoulders, she stood tall on the podium, her smile radiant and her eyes shining with accomplishment. The audience’s cheers intensified, and Lando found himself clapping enthusiastically along with them.

It was a powerful moment, and Lando felt a deep sense of respect for her journey and massive achievement. 

But it was more than just respect that stirred within him. Watching her bask in her well-deserved glory, Lando felt his heart swell with admiration and something more tender. The way she carried herself, the mixture of strength and humility, her fierce determination on the mat and the shy kindness she showed off it—all of it combined to create a powerful impression.

There was something profoundly inspiring and undeniably attractive about her, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her even more. She scanned the crowd and her eyes met his. Her face lit up even more, and to his surprise, she smiled and winked at him. The unexpected gesture caught him off guard, and he felt a sudden rush of warmth to his cheeks. Blushing, he quickly looked down, feeling a mix of bashfulness and happiness. However, he gathered his courage and returned the gesture, smiling and giving her a small, appreciative two-finger salute. 

She laughed softly and sent him the gesture back. Lando felt a warmth spread through him, a hopeful anticipation of what their future interactions might hold.

As the ceremony concluded—and after getting photographed a thousand times, and having shaken what felt like a thousand hands—, Lando found himself back in the car on his way to the hotel. Gazing out the window at the bustling city, he couldn't help but feel grateful for having been there, witnessing her triumph and the beginning of what promised to be an exciting partnership.

His mind replayed the moments of the day: her powerful performance on the mat, the way she carried herself with grace and determination, and their brief, meaningful exchanges. The flutter in his stomach returned, and he allowed himself a small smile, knowing that this experience had been special in more ways than one.

Lando knew that this was just the start of something truly special, and he looked forward to the adventures that lay ahead, both on a professional level—and perhaps something a bit more personal.

[staarboyyy]

Compliance - ktober week 1 [ Blood / Bound ]

homelander x reader | no pronouns, afab anatomy

explicit - minors dni

tags / warnings ; sublander, bloodplay, knifeplay, handcuffs, dom/sub dynamic, consent, communication, prior planning

summary ; getting homelander in a vulnerable position where you put him in cuffs he's not allowed to break

word count ; 1.6k

a / n ; i want to continue this at some point, lemme know what yall think :)

“Come on, Sweetheart. Give me something,”

Homelander’s voice was unlike you had ever heard before. The man breathed soft spoken words, riddled with a tremble that balanced skillfully between fear and something else. Something much darker than you had anticipated. You stood above him, staring down at his tightly bound wrists resting behind him, white-knuckled into tight fists. His knees were spread, staring up woefully at you, who now pressed a dagger firmly against his throat. Homelander watched you, eyebrows knitted upwards into a tangled and desperate expression; His lips were ajar, breathing hard as he kept his chin tightly angled upwards, the cool metal contrasting his hot sweat-glazed skin. You pressed it with more force to his larynx, pulling a low pleased purr from the man whom had begun shifting his hips in an uncomfortable manner. He cursed himself for this, cursed himself for all of it. Even letting you see him so vulnerable made him feel sick, sweat beading down his forehead and hanging off his jaw, his stomach churning angrily. It was much easier to digest the idea of being angry in his mind. Better than coming to terms with what he genuinely felt when gazing up at you like this.

“Please,”

The word fell into a pathetic whisper, Homelander's fingers twisting around one another in desperation he hadn’t felt in years. He wanted to move, to free his hands and touch you — He winced at the idea, his hands on you, underneath your loose clothing, pulling his hips against your own, all of it at once had begun truly washing over him. The thoughts trickled down in blazing components, traveling down from his corrupt mind, lower, lower, lower. Without distinct warning, the blade swept to the left with a sudden twist, so the sharpened metal scraped against the exposed skin. Homelander thrust upwards slightly, only to be met with the friction of his suit, now suddenly very tight. His breathing quickened, eyes not leaving your quizzical and guarded expression. Your gaze stumbled down to where his hips loosely thrusted upwards, cautiously gripping the dagger. 

“Please, what?”

Your question hung in the air as the fevered pain on Homelander's throat stung dimly. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, lips parted with anticipation. With a clench of his jaw, he pressed his hands to the cold cement floor behind him, pushing himself closer to her with caution. Homelander knew all too well what position he was in - You were in charge, whether he liked it or not. Goosebumps began to garden themselves in cascading bouquets over the back of his neck as he came to a stop in front of you, your boot-clad feet standing between his spread thighs. He could feel his mouth beginning to water, eyes still staring up at you with a pressing need. Blood seeped from the cut on his neck, a pearl of ruby staining its path on his skin. Your looming stare nearly forced his back to slowly arch, squaring his shoulders as he adjusted his hips once more; Every stretch and crane of his neck rippled torrid pain down his frame, sweat rolling down the nape of his neck, only propelling his fixation on you, still standing above him.

“Touch me,”

The few fragile syllables had been interrupted almost immediately as the flat of your foot lifted and fell between his thighs, causing Homelander to let a single whine further dislodge itself from his chest. After a few moments, you pursed your lips, fingers still dawning the dagger with the most authentic intent to use it against him if you deemed it necessary. By instinct, Homelander’s hips drew upwards to grind against your foot, his erection aching against his tightly worn suit with unfamiliar desperation. Hungry desperation. 

Homelander had always been the man to know what he wanted and, soon thereafter, when he wanted it — flashing a toothy smile at certain women, making under the table deals with co workers, receiving preposition after preposition. These simple passing whispers dawned upon the ears of the innocent, and oh did they listen with stiffening fear. His rough hands would needily grope at the warm skin of these women, sliding easily underneath their clothing to find dewy skin, the smell of sweat and head-spinning desperation. The feeling of Homelander’s breathing sped at these flashing memories, nails digging ruthlessly into the palms of his hands as the same waves of heat from before returned, soaking his body in an insatiable and unplaceable hunger. You watched him with skeptical eyes, squinting down at him dubiously. His gaze was unrecognizable, only in your mind comparable to an animal. A starved, depraved, and weak animal. You pressed your foot down harder, gauging his reaction slipping between covetous and fragile. Oh, how the man sang, a strung-out groan exposing his relief in the change of  your pressure.

“Fuck,”

He choked as you began to move again, removing your foot from him to replace it with your ankle pressed snuggly in the space between his thighs. Homelander leaned forward to the best of his ability as if on cue, defying your silent demand to stay still. He could now easily ignore the biting sting of sweat pooling into the small cut on his throat; he could ignore the blade rising by your side. He could ignore everything as he thrust messily onto your leg, lips falling open once more. He wished he could see himself in this position, at mercy to you entirely. His rolling hips steadied into a regulated pace against you, the once electric new sensation growing into a more tolerable one. With a loose push of his fists off the floor, he attempted to move even closer but instead was met with the sight of you slowly beginning to pull your pants from your waist.

“You’re gonna stay on your knees,”

Your words didn’t raise a question, the tone instead making an assumption. Homelander watched your fingers slowly trace the button on your pants, his lips still parted, taking in slow sharp breaths. “Isn’t that right?” The words no longer registered with the man, his attention entirely fixated on your hand and how it moved over the small buckle. He simply nodded slightly, and that was all you needed to understand. 

You let the dagger clatter against the cement, unphased by the sudden loud echo as you began to undo the buckles of your pants, bringing them down to her ankles to kick off casually. You tossed your discarded clothing to the side after you removed them calmly, as if you were simply changing your clothing before bed or taking a shower. This drove Homelander up the walls, having to watch you confidently bare yourself  in front of him, not giving him the time of day even to meet his desperate gaze. He couldn't help but let a wry smirk push itself up to his lips as he admired your body, one like none other that he’d seen and wanted to cherish. When you walked back to the knelt man, you let your arms slide over yourself, resting your hands on your hips. You resumed the position from before, but now your bare legs had been exposed to him, opportunities blooming in his mind faster than he could gather them. Homelander dove forward with little to no hesitation, his mouth catching your skin instantly. He ground against your radiating warmth, frantically attempting to collect every caress, every gentle touch, every sharp movement and noise you made above him. His teeth crushed nastily against your thigh, sucking the untouched skin with a fierce appetite. You studied how he curved and coiled around you, akin to a snake drawing in prey and suffocating them slowly - You found it difficult to breathe, cheeks flushed, as his demeanor switched from yearningly patient to gluttonous and predatory. Your stomach stirred warmly as you watched him move over every point of your bared skin within his depraved reach. Homelander left bundles of clashing colors over your thighs, the shapes warping as you began to tremble slightly underneath his invasive mouth. His misted hot breathing against your underwear made you readjust yourself in anticipation, the nervousness and sudden wavering anxiety bubbling in your stomach. You swallowed thickly, watching him lean closer towards the band of your underwear, sharp teeth skillfully hooking on the elastic. The pooling heat in your abdomen and trembling breath took the place of what words you now so desperately sought out. Your mind ran in circles, yet you stood on trembling thighs, eyes glued to his while your underwear began to ever so slowly be pulled down. Homelander's breathing hitched as your nudity became more apparent to him, underwear drawing out a long string of pooled moisture. He could feel his steady breath waver hastily, his teeth still iron tight on the elastic waistband. 

The smell of you filled his senses, your rocketing heartbeat drowning out his own as he let the underwear slide past your knees. He would never be able to put into words quite how difficult it was to keep himself restrained, not to move unless directly given the order to do so. He wanted to touch you, to feel your skin against his own - The cuffs binding his wrists were akin to tissue paper, and you had both agreed if he snapped the weak chain, the scene would come to a stop. It was torture, in it's most carnal form. 

Training a wild animal was no easy feat; The feeling of his tongue gently darting over the skin on your thighs was electric, tracing a painfully slow path towards your aching cunt. Homelander didn’t need to be in control to tease, yet his own greed would always trample the satisfaction of watching you squirm. His mouth met you desperately, tongue sliding over your heat with a quiet groan - He couldn't look away from you, not even when your eyes slid shut, eyebrows furrowing from the sudden pressure of his tongue lapping needily against your clit. He ravaged you, jolts of pleasure sparking in your veins with every lash of his tongue, sucking gently, savoring you and the noises that soon followed. You'd ruin him, surely. But in this moment, this second, his mind refused to let him see such a thing - It was you. Only you.

[helreginn]

@eyes-blazing asked:

Message me with “Hey there little one” to interact with my muse as a child (From Jörmungandr. Because who else.)

She pulled her brows low but there was a distinct gleam in her eyes as she stared up at her big brother. He called her little? He will see the fury of a little giant. Before he could speak a fourth word, she crouched low and sprung fast, leaping onto his arm and clambering up onto the back of his shoulders, her little hands around his neck.

Just giggling the entire time.

"Who's little now?" She asked, reasoning that she was just as tall as him since her eyes were near enough to his level.

It was comedic, that Hel remained humanoid yet here she was, acting so very much like a monkey.

[unstablebill]

For Pride as a Special Treat™ I'm buying a BLAZE of my queer murder mystery novel! 🤩 PLEASE LOOK UPON IT!

I love cozy mysteries but there is a distinct lack of them in queer/furry spaces, so I wrote one 😌 You can find it on lovely indy press Furplanet at the link below! 4 illustrations and covers by @jayfitzmaurice

A Summer Vacation to Die For

Dr. Ino Reamer has a lot of plans for his summer vacation — relaxing, working out, trying to conquer the crushing ennui of his 30s. Solving a murder was not part of these plans. But when a colleague's grim demise very nearly ends Ino's tenure, the hyena can't help but apply the scientific method to his search for the truth. When a few suspicious characters take note of Ino's investigation, the case takes on a new urgency, and now Ino must crack the case before Finals Week becomes his final week! 😱

386 pages, rated R (murder off screen)

https://furplanet.com/shop/item.aspx?itemid=1202

(you CAN get it on Amazon but please support my independent publisher!!)

"Enthralling murder mystery? Check. Loveable furry characters? Check. Adorable/cheesy romance? Double-check. If you share any of these interests, I highly recommend picking up this book, you won't regret it!" - review

This is part 1 of a planned 4 part series so please watch me for updates on my upcoming books. I am a small author so I appreciate the support - please follow and reblog and like and share and subscribe and whatever else we do these days!

Thank you for reading! 😁

[imtrashraccoon]

Ahem You're welcome. :3 But seriously, I wish I could have spent a bit more time on this because I looove making Horror spooky. He's the best!

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Horror - Prey

Word Count: 1,314

You woke with a start, feeling like your heart was going to drill a hole through your ribs. It was the middle of the night and the fire had long gone out. To top it all off, the usual forest ambience had gone silent, almost as if something horrible was out there.

Another scream echoed through the darkness and you quickly pulled the blanket up over your muzzle. The scream sounded almost like a woman's, but more guttural, like whoever was out there had been attacked or was in excruciating pain.

When the scream came again, you couldn't sit still any longer and crawled out of your lean-to. Bracing yourself on a tree, you managed to stand up, being careful not to put any weight on your injury. You needed to find out if someone was hurt or at least make sure the camp was safe.

At first, you tried to hop on one foot to where you knew the supplies were kept, but soon gave up and just crawled the rest of the distance as it was easier. To shed some light on the situation, you lit a lantern and opened the hood to illuminate the whole camp.

Nothing seemed to be amiss. The supplies were how they had been left before you went to sleep and there was no sign of intruders. You crawled over to the fire pit, setting the lantern on a log to free up your hands. The screams seemed to have stopped, at least for now. If it wasn't a person, what could make such horrible noises like that?

You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly in an effort to calm your pounding heart. There was no immediate danger and the camp seemed safe for the time being. The unfortunate part was that if there was a person out there, you couldn't do anything to help them in your condition.

It was a little weird that Maul hadn't gotten up to investigate though. Even if he was a heavy sleeper, anyone would have been woken up by the sound of someone screaming bloody murder. Actually, the longer you thought about the situation, the more it didn't sit right with you.

When you went to check on him, your heart sank to find his lean-to empty. His blanket had been tossed aside as if he had been in a hurry, but his greataxe was still propped up against a nearby tree where he'd left it. Maybe he had gone to investigate the screams? It was a little odd that he hadn't brought his preferred weapon along though.

Since you were in no position to go looking for him, you opted to stay up and see if he came back on his own. After crawling back to the fire pit, you managed to start a small fire after only a few minutes of trying which soon grew to a roaring blaze. As well as providing more light, you took comfort in the knowledge that the fire should keep any dangerous animals away.

An hour passed before the nighttime ambience resumed and the lingering eerie feeling passed. You made sure to refuel the fire when it began to go out, in hopes that Maul would notice the smoke or light and come back soon. If you weren't so worried about him, you might have actually enjoyed the peacefulness of it all. Unfortunately, your anxiety kept you from remaining idle for very long, but once you found a long, sturdy stick, you were able to get around easier. Even then, there wasn't a whole lot you could do without losing your balance.

You eventually just sat down to wait and prop up your ankle. After a while of staring into the fire and listening to the crackling embers, the fur on the back of your neck suddenly stood on end. You froze, getting the distinct feeling of being watched. You began to scan the surrounding forest, slowly turning your head until you were able to look behind you.

For a moment, you didn't notice anything, but you just couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. Slowly, you drew your dagger, keeping it close to your side for the time being. You turned back around, scanning the trees again, only to hear a heavy footstep from behind. You whipped around only to make eye contact with Maul. He definitely hadn't been there before, but in the moment you were relieved he wasn't someone else.

"Oh, there you are. Are you alright...?"

You trailed off as he took a slow step forward. It was then that you noticed his eyelight was different. It was smaller and the center had narrowed into a slit, making him look even more menacing than he usually did.

Your eyes widened as he began to silently move closer. Each step was deliberate, calculated, like a predator sizing up its prey before an attack. As he drew closer, you glimpsed some small whisps of purple energy surrounding his blood red eyelight. His body language nearly screamed aggressive as if every fiber of his being was pulled taut, like a bowstring, ready to spring forward at a moment's notice.

You got to your feet, leaning on your staff for support. "Maul, what's the matter? Can you hear me?"

He ignored your questions, not even giving any indication that he understood a word of what you had said, only continuing to move closer until he was barely a few paces away.

You started to back up in an attempt to keep some distance between you and your comrade. You didn't know what to do. Even if you weren't injured, you knew that you stood no chance against him in a head to head fight. He may not have muscles, but he possessed an almost unnatural degree of strength and his size completely dwarfed your narrower frame.

Then you tripped and toppled backwards. From this angle, Maul only loomed over you even more and you felt a fresh wave of panic well up in your chest.

"Hey! S-stay back!" You suddenly realized that you had dropped your dagger and in lieu of a weapon, bared your teeth in a futile attempt to look even remotely threatening. "I'm serious!"

He slowly crouched down, crawling forward as you attempted to scramble away. He put a stop to that real quick by grabbing hold of your good ankle and pinning it down to the ground. His claws pressed into your skin through your fur and you couldn't suppress a whimper of pain from escaping.

He suddenly lunged forward, his other hand closing around your shoulder, and roughly shoving you onto your back. You tried to fight back, but his bones proved too solid and no matter how much you kicked and clawed at him, you only managed to hurt yourself. If anything, it only seemed to excite him. He leaned closer until your faces were nearly touching, letting out a low snarl, and in one last ditch effort to keep him away, you pressed your free paw against his face.

His eyelight briefly contracted as you made contact with his skull, pausing for a brief moment. Then, his attention seemed to shift and he pressed his nasal cavity into your palm, inhaling your scent. His other hand came up and he pulled your paw away with a surprising amount of gentleness. You let out a soft whimper as he peeled back what was effectively your last line of defense. His eyelight darted to your face and you noticed an odd glimmer in his gaze.

"Maul...?"

He tilted his head at the sound of your voice before leaning even closer, burying his face in the scruffy fur on your neck. You squirmed, but your attempts to escape only caused him to hold on tighter. He shifted his body weight, effectively caging you beneath him as he laid down.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Cariño [Part 7]

Jake Lockley x f!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? •

Series Masterlist

Summary: The story comes to an end.

A/N: I know, it's been centuries, chapter 6 was posted in June 2023 (the shame), but here is the ending. Finally. Honestly, I'm not very happy with this story as a whole, but now it's done.

Warnings: kissing, p in v sex, cream pie, oral (both receiving), reader can't speak Spanish, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 3239

You had gone to Jake’s room early the next morning and knocked. No answer. 

You’d tried calling his phone, the one that worked yesterday. His number was out of service.

After speaking to the front desk, you found out he had checked out the night before, barely two hours after you had last seen him. 

A little after 8am you received the rest of the money into your bank account, payment for the job. 

It was fine. Really. 

He is an adult. He could do what he wanted. He didn’t owe you anything. 

But it hurt. A lot. 

You pushed the feelings down deep until you could almost walk on them. There was no need to dwell on this, dwell on him. But your thoughts kept migrating back, like a compass needle swinging north no matter how hard you shook it. 

You got ready and boarded your flight, not home, but to another job. Procuring and authenticating a Ruben, the honest, legal work you had pushed back a little so that you could get Jake his ankh. 

It was simple enough, practically a done deal and you were home and paid within two days. 

You heard through one of your contacts that the day after his party Edward Malay’s mansion had caught fire. He had seemingly died in the blaze. 

All you could think of was the look he had given you when Jack’s hand was on your waist. 

You let the rest of the following week slide by without any work, your heart just wasn’t in it. But by the Wednesday Detective Eric Peterson, the officer who worked for the police art and antiques unit, had called you asking for your help and promising you weren’t going to get hit in the face again this time. 

You took the job and got on with your life. There wasn’t much else to do. 

.

It was evening on a Friday night, and after trying to stop yourself from nodding off in front of the television you finally admitted defeat. Switched it off and got up to go to bed. 

There was a knock at the door. Ordinary and repetitive. 

You frowned. Waited a moment before moving closer to the door, keeping your footsteps light. 

Ever so carefully you checked the peephole and saw…

Jake. 

It was like a pin had been pushed through your chest, a sharp and small and perfect pain. 

Jake.

He hadn’t knocked like he usually did, forgone that familiar, distinctive sound.

You swallowed and opened the door. There was a split second when his gaze fell on you, the tiniest moment where he seemed to disappear and be replaced by someone else.

“Jak-”

 He surged forward before you had even fully opened the door, his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips meeting yours. 

The force of his actions made you step back as he stepped forward, moving with you so that the kiss remained unbroken. 

You froze, surprised and questioning whether you had actually fallen asleep on the settee and this was all about to become some half remembered dream. 

He pulled back, crestfallen, mistaking your shock for rejection. 

“I’m-”

You didn’t let him finish his sentence. 

You moved forward, grabbing hold of his jacket and pulling his mouth back to yours.

He let out the sweetest little moan as he kissed you back, wrapping his arms around you as his tongue slid into your mouth. He nudged the front door shut with his foot before he walked you backwards and further into the room. 

For a moment he pulled back, breathing hard, his hands still on your face. “Cariño,” he stroked his thumbs over your cheeks, seemingly searching your eyes for something and kissing you again deeply when he found it. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and the back of his neck, running your fingers through the hair that wasn’t covered by his cap at the nape. 

Slowly he continued to urge you back until your legs nudged against the armrest of the settee. You let out a small moan as his tongue danced over yours and pushed you back into the sofa, his right hand coming around to press flat on your back and keep your descent slow and controlled. 

You pulled off his hat and pushed his coat from his shoulders, urging it down his arms as he shimmied it the rest of the way down and climbed on top of you. 

He slid his right hand down your side, your outer thigh, before hooking his fingers under the back of your knee and pulling your leg over his hip. He pressed in close, lightly grinding against you for a second until you pressed at his lower back with your calf and pushed him fully down. 

The fiction sparked pleasure along your veins, burning into your skin as you clawed at his shirt trying to pull him impossibly closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mutter between kisses. “I shouldn’t have just taken off.”

You kiss him back fiercely, “You don’t owe me anything-”

“I do cariño, I do.” He kisses down your jaw, nipping lightly at your skin until you yelp. You can feel his smile as he presses his lips to your skin to ease the burn. 

“Jake,” You pull him back slightly, tugging lightly at his hair so that you can see his face. You’re not sure why you’re doing this, why you need to have this conversation now of all times. But emotion twists in your gut and won’t let you let this slide. 

His eyebrows pinch together slightly as he moves back, his eyes soft and hesitant. Expecting more rejection. 

You can’t help but stroke his cheek, the beginnings of stubble brush along your fingertips. “Jake,” you repeat and he closes his eyes briefly at the softness in your voice. “You don’t owe me anything, you can do-”

“I owe you an explanation.” He stares at you so sincerely it’s like his gaze is piercing into your soul. “I owe you-”

“Ja-”

“I wanted to kiss you again… back at the hotel. I wanted to…” He moves a fraction closer, his right hand sliding down to your waist as he presses his hips more fully against yours and rocking ever so slightly. 

You bite back the little gasp that wants to escape your lips. 

“I wanted to…” he swallows, his line of sight fixated on your lips as his tongue runs along his own, “make love to you.”

Your heart beats so rapidly that it echoes in your neck. 

“But instead I,” he shakes his head, crunching up his face as he internally chastises himself. “I fucked up, I-”

You silence him with your mouth on his, unable to hold yourself back any longer. 

He moans wantonly against your lips, eagerly accepting your tongue when you lick into his mouth. His hands are cool from the outside air, but it’s a balm to your feverish skin as he slides the tip of his fingers under your top and skims along your hips. 

Jake rocks against you feverishly, groaning happily when you wrap your legs around his waist fully. His erection pressed against you, the zipper of his jeans brushing perfectly along your core. The sensation spikes along your nerves and makes you squeeze his arms in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. 

He mouths at your neck, sucking and licking, paying particular attention to every sigh and hitch of your breath. 

“I have… so much,” he swallows, his voice muffled by your skin. Not able to pull himself away for even a second to speak clearly. “I need to tell you,” he pauses, biting his lip. “There are things that you should kno-”

You take his face in your hands and kiss him again, soft and sweet even though his lips are hot and wet. “Later.”

“Cari-”

“I mean this in the nicest way Lockley, but if you don’t sit back,” you move as you speak, unhooking your legs from his waist and urging him into a sitting position on the sofa, “and let me do what I want, then I’m never going to forgive you.” 

He keeps his hands on you as you gently manhandle him. A soft expression all over his face, as if his heart had cracked under the strain of carrying his emotions for far too long. And now the joy in his chest had no choice but to seep into his skin. 

“What do you want to do?” His voice is quiet, reverent almost. And, in that moment you’re sure he would fall on a sword if you uttered the words. 

You shift back, off the sofa and onto your knees between his legs, your hands on either side of his thighs to push them a little wider. 

The heavy bulge of his erection strains against the denim, practically seconds away from popping the neatly stitched seams. His cock twitches under your gaze and Jake lets out a soft groan as you squeeze his thighs, scrapping your nails along his inseam. 

“I want you to…” You slide your palms higher until your eager fingers can reach his belt. You flick open the buckle, pulling the leather free before you undo his trouser button and start to pull down his fly.

“You don't have to.” He whispers. His eyes glued to your face, his hands balled up by his sides and pressing into the sofa, barely resisting the urge to grab the back of your neck and pull you close so he could rut against the heat of your mouth.

“I want to.” You hold his gaze, slowly tugging the zipper down. 

Jake breathes hard, the air catching in his throat as his cock throbs. It's painful how much he aches, straining against the tough, unyielding fabric. 

He gasps when your fingers touch the skin just about his waistband and eagerly raises his hips to help you pull his clothing down to his ankles. His cock bobs free with a dull slap against his stomach and when you finally take him gently in your hand and kiss the very tip, he nearly comes on the spot. 

You press the palm of your free hand firmly against his inner thigh, a gentle reminder to keep him vaguely still and his legs parted. His muscles tense and twitch, flexing under your fingers.

His voice is weak when he mutters your name, soft and strained. You flick your tongue over his head, swirling twice before pulling back a fraction and look up at him. 

The warm artificial light makes his skin glow, the shadows on the sofa perfectly outlining his form, like a work of art you’d been tasked to assess. 

“Please,” his breathing is controlled even as his chest rises and falls. 

You wait until he starts to continue, to finish his thought, it’s only fair really due to the amount of times he’s teased you in the past with trivial things, before you take the tip into your mouth. 

Jake swears under his breath, his eyes screwing up as he fights the urge to buck and you bob your head slowly before you sink deeper. 

“Fuck,” He hisses, his eyes glazed. 

You hum softly as you suck and lick, relaxing your jaw as best you can to take as much of him as possible. His little pants and gasps for air make you lightheaded, your blood singing as he twitches on your tongue. 

You slide your hand from his thigh, up his leg to lightly roll his heavy balls in your palm. 

“Shit, cariño, I…” He moans, his stomach muscles clenching as he flinches forward. Pleasure sparking up his spine and twisting along his nerves. His orgasm so close it’s almost blinding. 

He wants to press close, to let you play him to your own heart's desire and come down your pretty throat with a scream. 

But he won’t. Yet. 

Jake finds the strength to take hold of your shoulders, “Stop, please.”

You do instantly and he sighs, eagerly leaning forward and kissing you fiercely. Licking into your mouth and groaning when you sink your fingers into his hair. 

He gently guides you into his lap as he hurriedly helps you pull off your clothes and the rest of his. 

“So pretty,” he groans as he mouths at your breasts, suckling lightly as he slides his left hand down your side and presses at your core. 

You shiver involuntarily under his touch, swallowing down a moan as he softly circles your clit with his calloused fingers. You squeeze his shoulders, your hips bucking automatically at the slow drag. 

He hums low in his throat, watching you with dark eyes. Languidly he runs his middle and forefinger over your folds, barely there pressure. “Can I?” He mutters as he rubs at your clit again, hardly even taking the edge of the ache. 

You nod rapidly, “Jake, please, I want you to-” You moan loudly as he presses inside. 

He swears at the wetness that greets him, quickly curling his fingers and stroking as he presses against your bundle of nerves with his thumb. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he moves, keeping time with the rocking of your hips. 

“That’s in cariño,” he whispers, his voice thick, “take everything you want.” 

You almost don’t recognise the whine that leaves your lips as your own. Pleasure twists and pulses in your stomach, claws at your skin as your thighs burn and shake. 

He litters your chest with wet, desperate kisses, his stubble scraping deliciously over your skin. Somehow he manages to swallow a groan as you tense, his cock twitches, smearing salvia and precome against his stomach. 

“Jake,” you gasp, the weight in your stomach dropping as he strokes and pulls the pleasure from your bones. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he whines, his voice nearly as desperate as your own. “Please, please,” his throat is dry as he mindlessly begs, transfixed on the look and feel of you. 

You come all at once, your orgasm piercing through your muscles and running like a current through your nerves. Jake guides you through it, holding you close and muttering sweet words and you shake and shatter in his arms. 

He slowly pulls out of you as you weaken, kissing your temple and stroking your back. You press your face into his neck, breathing hard. Your skin is hot but his touch is soothing. 

“I’m sorry I wouldn’t tell you what cariño means,” he whispers, there’s a weight in his chest, a tightness he needs to shift that’s fracturing. “It-”

“I know what it means,” you smile and pull back so that you can look at his face. “I just kept asking to see when you would tell me.” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “You’re cruel to me cariño.” He teases, his eyes bright. “Too cruel.” 

You grin before you kiss him deeply, wet and warm as your tongue slides over his. He shivers delightfully as you just scrape your nails over his scalp, lost in your touch. 

His cock presses hot and heavy between your bodies, desperate for any kind of friction and when you angle your hips away from his slightly Jake just thinks you mean to tease him all the more. 

He certainly doesn’t expect you to raise up on your knees while you kiss him feverishly, nor did he predict how you guide him to your centre and just sink down. 

He moans, his forehead pinched together in ecstasy as you envelop him, so soft and warm and he nearly chokes, stammering out swears and please as you squeeze.

“Cariño,” his hands fly to your hips, tensing and desperate as you finally take all of him. 

You rock slowly, moving in a long figure of eight as your body adjusts to his size. The thickness stretching you wonderfully. 

Jake gasps, his fingers digging in as he holds on for dear life. Bliss buzzes along his skin, settles at the base of his spine with a dizzying speed. “I’m,” he swallows, his breath hitches as you move a fraction faster. His cock pulses as it rubs within you, pleasure building and building and building. “I’m so sorry, I can’t, I’m gonna…”

You don’t let up your movements as you lean forward, ghosting your lips over his. “Please,” you dart out your tongue, running lightly over his bottom lip. “I want you to.”  

Jake groans loudly, gasping for air as he pulls you as close as physically possible. His hips thrust up as he comes hard, the sensation whiting out his vision as he calls out your name in prayer. 

‘Thank yous’ fall his hushed whispers from his mouth as he shakes and recovers, his heart racing in his chest. You can’t help but watch him, transfixed in how his face pinches and glows in pleasure.

You’re smiling at him when he opens his eyes, and you brush some of his loose curls from in front of his face as he gazes at you. 

“You okay?” You giggle, joy rising up in your chest at the love sick look he gives you. 

“More than,” he kisses you softly, his strong arms hugging you close. “More than more than.” 

Without warning he twists, moving you onto your back flat against the sofa while staying deep inside of you. You let out a little yelp of surprise that turns into more laughter. 

“I love that sound,” Jake kisses your nose, grinning. “I think it is my second favourite.”

“Second favourite?” 

He nods, “This is the first.” He moves quickly, pulling his softening cock from your pussy only to quickly dip down, kissing your stomach once before he presses the flat of his tongue in one long, slow lick through your folds. He groans as your combined fluids fill his mouth, and your cry of pleasure sounds in his ears. 

He swirls his tongue over your click one way and then the other before he gently presses two fingers on either side of your entrance and stretches slightly, opening you wider. “Fuck, such a mess here.” He groans, biting his lip at how your muscles flutter under his hold before he gets back to the task at hand. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his warm tongue runs over you again, the tip just dipping inside as he flicks up, trying to gather as much of your combined release as possible before he swallows. 

You wriggle under the onslaught, your back arching off the cushions as he works on you, quickly hurtling you towards another orgasm. 

He groans as you writhe, using his hands to pull your legs over his shoulders without breaking his rhythm. He flicks his tongue, alternating between sucking and licking until you’re sobbing and soaking a wet patch into the sofa. 

His fingers knead your thighs and ass cheeks, coaxing you to buck and grind exactly how your desperate body is begging you to. 

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. One second you’re moaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of his mouth, the next you're practically paralysed as pleasure washes over your mind, body and soul. 

Jake groans as you come, not letting up on his onslaught until you're panting heavily and limp. As he sits up you can feel his cock against the back of your thigh, hard and ready once more. 

He grins devilishly, “Can I fuck you again cariño?” 

Thank you for reading!

 want to be tagged? •  if you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐄𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Pull Me Closer

Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon!Jungkook, strangers to lovers/mates, mentions of folklore and traditions, modern fantasy, romance, human?Reader, Fluff, Courting, MC kinda wary of kook at first, but he's cute give him a chance pls

Additional Chapter Warnings: tensioooon, the hunt is near, some steamy action that made me hit my desk

Length: short, tumblr hates long evocation updates for some reason

A/N: There is no taglist. I continue to force you to eat the dragon!kook meal, so you better finish your plate or there wont be any dessert. Also there is no taglist.

-> Masterlist

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It's hot this year.

You're usually not this bold with your choice of clothing, but the heat pretty much forces you to dress a bit more revealing as to not overheat- simply summer dress and underwear already feeling as if it's too much under the blazing sun. It makes most dragonkins laze around and bathe in the warmth of the giant star up in the sky, soaking up the sunlight as if they're some cold-blooded lizard recharging their energy and upping their body temperature.

It's funny how some instincts never leave, even if your body isn't the same anymore.

According to legends and some research, dragonkin had been, at some point, actual dragons- their blood slowly becoming less and less pure as they began to fall in love with the human kind. Their bodies changed, becoming less distinguishable from one another, as nowadays, only little hints remain in their visual appearance. It's honestly best seen in Jungkook, as you watch him push his hair back out of his eyes, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He's tall, muscular but not too much so, with sharp eyes and traditional ink underneath the skin of his arm. It's not too different from a regular human- it's more so the way he carries himself, the way his instincts seem to lead him.

And yes- he's also got that very distinctive spot on the back of his neck- similar to you, and all of the other dragonkin around.

It's called a dragon's burn- a story as old as time saying that it's the soul of the last living dragon-mother burning her mark into the skin of a newborn, so she can still find her children amongst the humans. And while there's no actual proof or rather explanation from science as to why this mark appears or how it forms, its also said to determine one's personality and future, depending on it's shape, size, and position.

You've got your eyes closed as you soak up the sun as well now- dragonkin practically immune to sunburns, which is another thing that's still being researched. You're softly swinging from side to side in the hammock, one leg dangling out when you notice steps coming closer. By now, you're not worried about it anymore- it can really only be one person seeking you out.

He's not talked to you since you'd offered him the bracelet- you wonder if he still wears it.

There's a hand around your ankle, and your eyes open at that as you watch him, his gaze on you. He's looking at you a little differently today- not so bold anymore, not as fierce as usual. There's a certain softness to his eyes that you've not seen before- but you feel oddly comforted by it, as his fingers run over the soft skin of your leg. It's now that you notice the bracelet still hanging around his wrist, securely tied as if he didn't even think about how to open that knot ever again.

Maybe because he really doesn't intend to do so.

"You make me want to join you." He chuckles, watching as you stretch your arms above your head before relaxing again.

"I doubt the hammock can hold both of our weights." You respond, and he grins.

"If Yoongi and his mate can have sex on this thing, I'm sure it can handle us both simply cuddling on it." he comments, and at that you shoot upright into a sitting position.

"On this thing?!" you ask, scandalized, and he can't help but laugh openly about your face full of shock. It's a nice laugh- it's free, open, honest. You like it.

"I don't think it was this specific one." He reassures. "Or maybe. They probably cleaned it though, don't worry." He says, before he holds onto it, making you lean back as to not be forced too close to him.

"I- did not agree to the cuddling part though.." You stammer as he climbs in without really asking any further, moving around and boldly using his strength to push and move you into a comfortable position in his arms- and despite your vocal protest, you can't help but scoot a little bit closer than he'd placed you, leaning halfway on his body as he chuckles.

"Well it sure doesn't feel like you're too upset over it though." He offers, and you're quiet- because you're not sure what to say. It takes a moment or two before you point towards the bracelet around his wrist- his hand on his chest close to you as you tap one of the wooden beads.

"M' sorry about that one, by the way." You mumble disappointed.

"Why?" He asks, genuine surprise in his voice. "Did you not want to give it to me?" He worries, but you shake your head.

"No, I wanted to.. you know, give you something." You shrug. "But this thing sucks. It looks awful." You say, and his hand instead reaches out to hold yours now, thumb running over the back of your palm.

"It's made by you." He offers. "You've put effort into it, and I appreciate that." He tells you, and you shrug.

"You can be honest." You say. "It looks-"

"Like a gift given to me by my future mate." He says, and at that you freeze. It's the first time he openly calls you a future mate- even though he's not given you anything in return yet. "Let's not dwell on it for now, okay?" He asks, and you shrug. "Let's just exist for a moment. I just want to hold you." He says, and at that, you nod, before you lean in closer.

Soaking up both the sun- and the warmth of his skin and body next to yours.

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The first preparations for the festivities are in full force, but tonight, things are still calm and easy.

Some are still hammering together the stages and booths, nails hit into wood in a steady rhythm, while others have gone to bed early. You yourself are still sitting outside- air cool now, refreshing as some insects chirp somewhere in the distance.

In a way, you dread the next two days. Because it'll be the last, and then you'll be back in the loud, bustling city full of noise and stress.

Someone sits next to you on the edge of the stage, a sigh escaping him as he looks at what you're watching. "It's nice like this." He comments, nodding to himself. You nod as well.

"I don't want to go home yet." You mumble almost more to yourself than anyone else- but he still hears you.

"You don't have to- not yet." He tries to lift your mood. It works only a little. "Dont let the thoughts of what's to come ruin what you've got right now. That's what my mom always says." He playfully shoves his shoulder against yours. "But- that's not actually why I wanted to see you." He suddenly says, jumping down from the edge of the stage, pulling something from the pocket of his pants. It jungles distinctively- a high sound indicating a small bell of some sorts, and his hands are almost hesitant as his fingers wrap around your bare ankle.

"Dont think I've forgotten.." he starts, and you can't help the goosebumps that erupt from the way his hands pull you closer by your leg. "...or that I have chosen someone else.." he tells you, gaze sharp and fierce again as he watches your every reaction from his position. He reveals the delicate, silver anklet that he's got, wrapping it around before he uses a small pair of pliers to bend close one of the chain links.

There's no way for you to take it off now without breaking it. A silent offering that also showes his urge to make sure you know that his decisions are final. That he stands by this gesture, by his words, his choice.

And he's choosing you.

"Thats cheating." You tease. "You're making the hunt easy on yourself." You jab at him jokingly. "Scared you won't catch me without the help or a bell around my leg?" You ask, tilting your head innocently while he leans down to kiss the side of your knee- and action that makes your breath hitch a little, something that doesn't go unnoticed as the corners of his lips lift.

"Oh, that bell isn't for me." He chuckles, hands at the very edge of the hem of your dress, never daring to go any higher. "Its so everyone else knows to stay away from you, because you'll be mine." He says.

"Bold." You just tell him, as he helps you down from the edge of the stage and into his arms, before he cages you in with your back against the wooden front of the structure, arms on either side of you.

"How could I not be?" He wonders, looking down at you, eyes jumping from your lips to your eyes. "I've got to be, considering all the others who lick their lips after you."

You scoff. He tilts his head for a second in confusion.

"You don't believe me?" He asks, and you shrug, looking away- but he doesn't have it, pulls your face back with his hand on your chin- before said hand moves to hold your cheek instead, an awfully tender gesture from the otherwise rather rough dragonkin. "You've got no idea how much you're desired."

"I'm not, really." You deny, but he instead leans in to nose at your neck, breathing in your scent. "Except, maybe by you." You try and joke, but you can instead feel his grin against your neck as he places an almost teasing kiss close to your dragon's-burn on the back of your neck.

"That you are." He affirms. "I desire you a lot. Not just.. physically though." He explains.

"Huh?" You stupidly sigh, unable to think straight under his ministrations.

"I desire all of you." He tries to explain. "I want to hear what worries you, what you think of, what you believe you can't tell anyone else. I want to know what makes you happy, what gets you excited, what makes you sad." He rambles, leaning his head on your shoulder now, lips tenderly kissing the tip of it. "I don't just want your body." He says. "I want you."

"Jungkook-" you sigh, and he can't help but laugh boyishly to himself.

"I love the way you say my name." He chuckles. "I love that you say my name." He clarifies, and you can't help but smile as well now, butterflies no longer being ignored now as they flutter in your heart at his clear display of affection.

You've never been desired like that. Wanted. Almost needed, in a way.

"Tomorrow." He reminds you, leaning away from you again. "Tomorrow, you'll be mine." He tells you.

"I won't make it easy." You threaten playfully, and he grins.

"And I wouldn't want you to, either." He responds before you both part ways-

Barely sleeping as the excitement sets in.

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[itsnotamatterofif]

YEEEEEESSS I live for steamer/freight family. Slick is very definitely the rogue sibling that no one can control but they don’t half worry about. Have a little scene between her and Rusty

✨Want a stex mini fic? Send me an ask!✨

Once again, Slick is in a ditch.

It's not even a nice ditch. Usually when she's pissed off an engine enough to be thrown off the train she's left at a station or a delivery yard, but being ditched in the middle of track following a scam on a particularly cantankerous engine isn't exactly uncommon. At least this ditch is pretty close to a town, so she should be able to hang on the back of a passerby without a problem, but it's just annoying; she was this close to taking a good bet from him about a race she'd rigged for next week, and if he hadn't recognised her at the last minute she would have been a hundred and fifty pounds richer.

With a huff, she squats near the tracks, scuffing  at the rocks and pebbles with the brake plate of her boots. She'd probably be home in the next ten minutes if that fucker hadn't gotten all grumpy about it, but now she's stuck here, reading the graffiti that lines the walls of the bridge up ahead. If she was a bit more daring, she could probably attempt to make it home herself, but someone finding her passed out on the tracks is infinitely more embarrassing than actually having to ask for a lift, so in her spot she stays. Thankfully it's a nice day, and it's not raining as long as that grey looking cloud stays where it is, so the waiting game it is.

Within five minutes she's bored of looking at clouds, and within ten she's bored of kicking her feet in the rocks. It's not like this is a quiet line, quite the opposite usually, but apparently Sunday timetables have decided to kick her ass today. There's a faint sound in the distance, a reverberation along the rails, but it seems far off as Slick sits uncomfortably on the pebbled floor with a grumble.

The rumble gets louder, the rails clattering slightly, and Slick perks up. Sounds like whoever it is is going fast, but that shouldn't be a problem, she's had plenty of years experience of jumping at the right moment to cling onto the back of whoever is going past. Hopefully it's a diesel, hopefully it's not Greaseball-

As the engine gets closer, the sound changes. Rhythmic in its movement with distinct push and pull, Slick feels whatever hope she had drain away as she looks out to the eastwards track and sees a plume of steam shooting up over the treetops. It's ain't Momma, that's for sure - she hardly ever leaves the yard these days - and as the distinct scream of a whistle echoes across the tracks, she rolls her eyes and kicks the dirt again.

Of course, it had to be Rusty.

There's no time to hide as he turns the corner onto the straight that she's stuck on, hurtling along the track whilst Slick prepares for the inevitable one hundred questions he's going to ask. Looks to be just him today, no coaches or trucks trailing behind him; it's almost strange to see him without Porter at the very least, as if he looks top heavy or slightly unbalanced with just his own bunker, but she's sure there's a good reason. Rusty is one of those people who has an excuse for everything no matter the situation, which pisses her off to no end.

By the time Rusty spots her and slams on the breaks, it's too late for him to stop in front of her, stuck on the side of the tracks as he hurtles past with a screech. The heavy sound of pistons and blazing fire kicks up as his wheels slowly spin backwards, almost painfully slow as he rolls back to her; it's kind of funny in a way, watching him try and reverse when she knows just how much effort it takes for him to get started once he's stopped, but it doesn't seem to bring him down. As she folds her arms and rolls her eyes impatiently, Rusty finally stops within reach, apologetic smile etched on his face as he reaches to let out a billow of steam awkwardly.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Slick," he says, voice laced with surprise, "I thought you were on shift with that visiting diesel, what happened?"

"Pissed him off," she answers brashly, huffing out an annoyed breath, "apparently he couldn't stand the sight of me for ten more minutes just to get me home, so the asshole uncoupled."

It's not the whole truth, and she knows Rusty knows that from the slight raise of his eyebrow as he purses his lips in thought.

"Well, you ought to hop on then." He straightens his back, scooting forwards slightly so that she can hitch up. "I'm heading back to the yard, if you can cope with being stuck to a steamer, that is."

He sticks his tongue out in jest as Slick rolls her eyes and clambers back onto the tracks.

"Good fuckin' thing it's only for ten minutes then," she argues, rolling her eyes again - riding with Rusty is never ideal, she hates the stink of coal smoke and ash that settles into her armour when she gets stuck on a train with him, but right now it's either hitch up or sit down. It barely takes a minute before the sound of Rusty's pistons pumping echos along the track again, and, albeit very slowly, they're away.

"So, what did you do this time?" Rusty asks after a minute or so of awkward silence, "insurance fraud? Revenge hit-?"

"None of your fuckin' business," Slick snaps back, and annoyingly she knows the exact expression of mock surprise that Rusty is wearing without seeing his face.

"Just thought I'd ask in case-"

"Well don't," she hisses, and crouches to hide behind him slightly as a bigger train speeds past, "what are you doing out on your own?"

"Orange Flash broke down at Leamington, so Control asked me to take the repair truck over since I didn't have anything scheduled for today," Rusty explains easily, no hint of any frustration found which frustrates Slick in turn, "dropped them off about an hour ago, and then they can ride home with Flash once they're fixed - good thing I took the job, how else were you planning to get home?"

He says that like there was a chance he wasn't going to accept the run, which makes Slick frown a bit in thought; it's no secret to anyone that Rusty has been getting less and less jobs following some new financial directive putting more focus on the newer diesels, and his frame is looking distinctly worse for wear in the gloomy afternoon sun, whole flakes of rust visible from where she can see. It must be painful, judging from how much Momma complains about it when she hasn't been cleaned for weeks, but if it is, Rusty doesn't say anything.

"Dunno," she answers as Rusty draws to another stop at a set of signals up ahead, "I'm pretty good at hitchhiking-"

Rusty hums, equal parts concerned and unimpressed. "That's dangerous, Slick, what if you missed and got hurt or the engine threw you off?"

"Hasn't happened yet," she grumbles - she’s a really on a short fuse from being dumped, if Rusty wants tell her how to live her life he can shove it, "I can handle myself - I don't need a second Momma, Rusty, I knew I'd get a godamn lecture from you-"

The lights flick green, and Rusty shrinks away, shoulders hunching slightly as his pistons begin to push; if they were face to face he probably would be walking away by now, Rusty’s not one for blow-up arguments with her.

“I know,” he mutters, barely audible over the hissing of his engine, “I just worry about you sometimes.”

She clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Then don’t.”

“Trust me, I try not to,” he argues back, and there’s a sudden bit of fire in his voice that she wasn’t expecting - Rusty stopped arguing with her a long time ago, having learned any argument with her was a lost cause, but apparently picked today to break the habit, “I’d rather not think about you mangled somewhere because you’ve pissed off the wrong engines, but at least, I dunno’, let someone know if you’re planning on pissing someone off on the rails? Even if it’s not me, either Lumber or Porter, then if something goes wrong they can get help for you-“

“Control would have sent someone out eventually, Rusty, chill-“

“What if they didn’t, though, or you were hurt?” There’s a distinct clack of his jaw snapping shut, steel hitting steel as he squares his jaw in frustration. “I ain’t trying to be Momma, she’d tell you to stop fuckin’ about completely, I just think if the folks you target can dump you in the middle of the tracks without a concern, what else would they be happy to do once they find what you’ve planned for them?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that.

The yard station looms before them as Rusty pulls into one of the side sheds, the one nearest the freight yard. Blessedly, it’s empty, and as Rusty slows to a stop, Slick can’t help but jump off the tracks as soon as possible.

Reaching round to a small pouch on her external tank, she pulls out a few notes, shifting through them as Rusty sorts himself out and chills his firebox back out for resting.

“Oi, steamer,” she calls - why is she nervous about this? - as Rusty’s head snaps around, “next time you’re in Birmingham, take this to a maintenance engineer called Amal, he’ll get you cleaned up.”

Rusty’s eyes widen for a second as he wheels over, looking between her and the pound notes. “I’m- I’m fine, Control said they’re getting someone in next quarter-“

“And you know as well as I do that that skimping bastard isn’t maintaining you and Momma anymore,” Slick interrupts, grabbing his hand to stuff the notes into whether he wants them or not, “you’re on a freight run on Saturday, right? Ask him then, before your creaking gets bad enough to wake the whole yard up.”

As Rusty’s hand closes around the notes reluctantly, she spins on her break plate. Rusty’s a sentimental bastard at the best of times, if he starts trying to give the cash back or thanking her for it she might just lose it again. Behind her, she can already hear Rusty stammering, and can’t help but laugh slightly at his predictability.

Maybe she’ll just let him know next time she tries something big.

[jinxhallows]

kinktober #oo3 | my turn

KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows my turn (role reversal) || jisung x fem!reader summary: you have the coolest partner in the world, the literal rockstar Jisung of the band Eternal, and the best part? you knew he was one before the rest of the world found out. you two met over a shared love of music, and you let your dreams fall to the wayside to support his. but when jisung hears you with his band for the first time, the roles are reversed, and he becomes your biggest fan. warnings: rather fluffy for kinktober, plot heavy, pet names, established relationship, non-kpop idol AU.

word count: 3.2k masterlist - click here

You’re a supportive girlfriend, so it's your job to be the one front and center when your boyfriend performs at festivals, waving a big sign around like an average fan, despite the badge hanging from your neck indicating you were very much not an average fan, and had full and complete access to the artist.   Jisung is undoubtedly a rockstar, the charismatic lead guitarist and vocalist of the alternative rock sensation, Eternal. Following the blazing success of their recent single on the radio, their demand has skyrocketed, securing them bookings at renowned festivals with extensive media coverage.    But your unwavering enthusiasm for Jisung's music dates back to the days when it was just him and his band in a rented-out rehearsal room inside an old warehouse in your hometown. There, you'd watch him perform, feeling your heart swell with pride and admiration as he poured his soul into his music, singing about his tumultuous past. 

In the last two of your five-year relationship, Jisung has been urging you to step into the limelight with your own unique voice. He's convinced that your vocals have a distinctive quality, a gritty edge that perfectly complements grunge and rock music. However, you've hesitated, recalling your past as a pop artist that didn't quite take off. You're afraid of experiencing the heartbreak of the music industry all over again. 

It's been easier to live vicariously through Jisung's success, still being close to the music scene that makes you feel alive. Your dreams haven't faded entirely, but for now, they simmer on the backburner. 

  After a year of pestering you, Jisung manages to convince you to get on the microphone after you two have shared a few beers and a couple of shots in between runs of his set at rehearsal.  You’re barely walking, and he’s pushing you while you make an effort to lean back against him, half fighting and stumbling your way up.    Giving him a sideways glance, he winks at you and turns to his rack of three guitars. He selects his vintage strat, slides the leather strap over his head, taps his foot on his pedalboard with a dozen pedals, exchanges nods with his drummer and bassist, and begins strumming chords.   

As the chords fill the air, they feel almost deliciously right, which is no surprise. Jisung knows your musical tastes well—Nirvana, Alice in Chains, Staind, 3 Doors Down, Nickelback—and he's giving you something distinctly different from his usual style, something that resonates with your soul.  You close your eyes, furrowing your brow in concentration as you sway to the chords. Then, you open your mouth, and the words flow effortlessly:    My anxiety,    It just ain’t been getting down with your sobriety    As the words leave your lips, you're pleasantly surprised at how good they sound, both vocally and lyrically. 

Jisung signals the band to continue with a circular motion of his finger. He adjusts his playing to complement your voice, encouraging you to keep going. 

Closing your eyes once more, you raise the microphone to your lips: 

  My anxiety,    It just ain't been getting down with your sobriety    And I can tell how things are changin’ cause you’re just like me.    The next set of words come to you within seconds.    And I’m gonna take you to that place where you don’t wanna be, don’t gotta be.    You hear that familiar switch and whirr of the high pitched amp as Jisung switches pedals again, the sound harder, with more overdrive.  His strumming pattern has changed, and it makes you feel like a chorus should come out naturally.    Take me out onto the wide and open roads,    I’m just waiting for you to tell me when to go.    We can take it slow,    I don’t have to know.    But I can’t promise that you’ll find your way back home.    You're completely immersed in the world of your lyrics, lost in the music until you hear Jisung's whistle followed by hearty laughter as the band comes to a stop. 

Jisung steps on a pedal, deactivating the overdrive, and asks, "Holy shit, did you write that, y/n?" 

You shrug, "No, it just came out—the way you were playing, that's just what came out." 

He widens his eyes, brows raising in surprise. "Wait, you mean to tell me you came up with that off the top of your head?" 

You look at him, puzzled. "Jisung, we do this at home all the time. We freestyle together when we're drunk. I used to be a musician. Is this new information?" 

He clicks his tongue, narrowing his eyes. "Don't be a smartass. You know I've never heard you with a live band. When we freestyle when we're drunk, you don't come up with stuff like that. That was... poetry." 

  Jisung steps back and adjusts his pedals, strumming lightly. "Do the same thing, but Troy, hold out that E string through the first eight bars." 

And so, your very first alternative rock song, 'Home,' was born during an organic jam session. It was so impressive that Jisung funded its professional recording in a studio and helped you release it as a single, under his publishing. 

  You landed 68k streams in the first week.    People were hungry for more.    The band lent their full support as you embarked on your first major project, a small EP comprising eight remarkable songs. The pinnacle of your excitement came when you received news that you were invited to perform at none other than the prestigious Coachella festival. 

Your excitement matched the enthusiasm radiating from Jisung. He couldn't contain his joy, and as the news broke, he screamed, hugging you tightly and even jumping up and down with sheer delight. When he finally released you from the hug, his eyes sparkled with genuine excitement as he looked into your eyes. "I get to be your groupie now," he exclaimed.    & Jisung meant that shit.    He purposefully schedules a leg of his tour to leave that night open so he can be free to attend and play for your performance, instead of the hired gun guitarist that takes his place when he has to prioritize his own band.  He’s headlining a top venue in the city the next night, but tonight is all about you.      But for tonight, Jisung is your guitarist, so he can’t wave a sign in the crowd for you like you do for him, so he gets a little creative.  As the band began playing the intro to your song, the stage lights transform into a dim, muted blue, and you gaze out at the vast, massive crowd before you. It is undoubtedly the largest audience you have ever performed for in your career. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jisung stepping up to his microphone, still strumming his guitar. "Tonight is special to me, to be playing for Y/N, really, it's an honor," he announced, causing you to cover your mouth and nose with your hands, concealing your wide smile as the crowd erupted in cheers, urging him to continue. 

  "I am her biggest fan, and it sucks that I can't be in the audience, watching you do your thing from their point of view," Jisung continued with effortless stage presence. Laughter and whoops filled the air as he spoke, still strumming his guitar. "You guys are some lucky motherfuckers." His stage presence is effortless as the crowd reacts with laughter and whoops.  He’s still playing, the band perfectly vamping the song in the background as he points to the front row, “So I gathered some fans to help me out tonight.”    Before your very eyes, signs go up one by one across the front.    M A R R Y  M E ?    You take a step back, your eyes widen as you squint to see. The crowd's deafening roar and the giant screen above capture the moment, alternating between the sign and your bewildered expression. It's a surprise you could never predict.   

"Jisung—" you begin to exclaim, but your voice breaks into sobs as he embraces you tightly. The band briefly pauses, and the crowd's cheers grow louder. 

"It's okay, baby," Jisung reassures you, laughing as adrenaline courses through him. He rocks you from side to side, and then, he pulls out a box from his back pocket, dropping to one knee. With tears in his eyes, he opens the box to reveal a stunning ruby ring surrounded by diamonds on a gold band. He wipes his cheeks, trying to maintain composure as emotions overwhelm him. 

Your shocked reaction, a mixture of surprise and joy, draws raucous laughter from the audience. You hadn't expected him to propose right then, and you had no idea he had a ring. You don't even know any of this has been planned. As you say yes, barely above a whisper, you nod and let him slip the ring onto your finger.  It rests perfectly between the silver carved wolf ring on your pinky and the owl eyes ring on your middle finger, with turquoise stones set into the irises.  It's a ring that proves he knows you well and listens to the things you love and want.  You hadn’t mentioned wanting a ruby engagement ring since you first started dating and it came up randomly when you two were at a mall together and happened to pass them by. 

  -  “Do you like this one?” Jisung asked.    “Nah, too traditional.  I love rubies.  I’d love a ruby one.” 

-    Now, you shiver with emotion, looking down at the ring and sniffing as he stands up to kiss you. It's a brief kiss, but you know there's more to come later. He steps back, never taking his eyes off you, and the introduction to your song begins once again. 

Through your tears, you laugh. "Now I have to sing the song, asshole," you tease.   

Jisung chuckles with the crowd and leans over to quip into the microphone, "Yeah, but you got this, rockstar."   

As you prepare to start singing, the crowd's voices join in unison, singing the opening phrases with you: 

"My anxiety..." 

You feel a surge of happiness and gratitude as you close your eyes and sing the lyrics, your voice soaring as the song reaches its climax and descends gracefully, like a plane landing smoothly. The audience erupts in applause, and soon after, you find yourself in the dressing room. You're sweaty, makeup smudged from tears, but you're buzzing with excitement. Your heart races, and it feels like a fluttering butterfly has replaced it, its wings sending a rush of blood through your veins. 

Your team rushes in, surrounding you in a massive group hug. Some of them hold bouquets of flowers, and your manager pops a bottle of champagne, filling flutes for everyone in the room. 

"Attention, everyone, I need to make a toast," your manager announces, raising her glass above the chatter. The room hushes. "To new beginnings!" she declares, and everyone cheers, clinking their glasses together. You raise your glass from where you sit on a makeup table, taking a sip as the room bursts into conversation again. 

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Jisung walks in, greeted by more whoops and cheers. He's visibly exhausted from his set and the emotional rollercoaster of the night, but Jisung plays along, accepting the enthusiastic welcome as he makes his way over to you. 

"Han Jisung!" you exclaim, shaking your head as he wraps you in a warm embrace. Your legs wrap around his waist as he hugs you tightly, planting a kiss on your lips and looking into your eyes. 

"It sounds even better now that it's gonna be your last name," he says with a grin. 

"Let's take this to the afterparty!" your drummer yells, and everyone starts gathering their belongings, excitedly agreeing.   

"Leo, we're playing Thunder Eagle tomorrow, don't get too messed up, man," Jisung says over his shoulder, calling out your shared drummer, who rolls his eyes.    “I’ll be cool Jay.”    “I’m serious.”    "I'll make sure they behave," Jisung's manager chimes in, patting Leo on the back and pointing towards the door, silently advising him not to argue tonight.  

Jisung is a Virgo, a perfectionist, and he wants his set to be flawless, even if it never quite reaches his impossible standards. She reassured him that everything would go according to plan so he could enjoy his proposal night.   

"Thank you, Rina," Jisung says. 

Rina nods. "Meet us back at the hotel. We need to go over tomorrow's itinerary." 

She knows Jisung has no interest in afterparties, especially not tonight. His social battery is drained as well. 

After Rina leaves, the steel door slowly closes behind her, and you and Jisung let out synchronized sighs, followed by shared laughter. Those sighs communicate everything you both feel—the relief of finally being alone.   

"Wow, I can't believe I got backstage with Y/N," Jisung teases, his eyes playfully wide. 

  "Got past security and everything, huh? You must've really wanted to meet me," you playfully comment.   

"Of course," Jisung responds, placing his hands on both sides of your face and looking into your eyes. "I told you, I'm your biggest fan." 

And then, Jisung kisses you for real this time, like he means every bit of it. Your head tilts to follow the rhythm of his tongue as it rolls over yours, and you give him a forceful shove backward as you hop down from the countertop. He stumbles back a few steps while you push his leather jacket off his shoulders. Eventually, he lands on the black futon, looking up at you with a crooked grin as you straddle him. Your knees sink into the leather, and you can feel just how aroused he is when you lower yourself against him. Both of you are still clothed, and you rest your arms on his shoulders, your breasts grazing against his chin as you start grinding in his lap. 

"You're my biggest fan, Jisung?" you inquire, your voice low and teasing. 

"I am," he confirms, his eyes lifting from your chest to meet yours as he answers your question. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you down firmer onto his lap. 

You lean in close, murmuring in his ear, "Wanna be my groupie?"   

"Mhm, I do, I do," Jisung breathes, his hands gripping your ass. 

But then, you stop, lifting yourself up slightly.   “Let me fuck you then.” you say with a firm grasp of his erection. You stroke him a couple of times through his jeans, your lips hovering over his. You watch his expressions, the way his eyes cross, and his lids flutter, his vision blurred by the shockwaves your touch is sending throughout his body.    "Y-Yeah?" Jisung stammers, a reply that makes you both laugh, briefly breaking the intensity of the passion between you. How can you still have this effect on him? Jisung melts under your heat, and he always will.    “Take your dick out, I need to spell it out for you?”    You grant him a bit more space, allowing him to lift his hips and deftly slide out of his jeans. His brain finally clears the fog of desire, and he's acutely aware of how badly he craves to be with you at this moment. 

"Sorry," he stammers, "I'm like...star-struck or something." You straddle him once more, your thumb gently grazing his lower lip, the delicate almond-shaped acrylic nail tracing along his upper teeth. You observe the transformation in his expression as he shifts from awe to sheer desperation, all while you slowly lower yourself onto his throbbing anticipation. 

“Hmm,” You throw your head back with a blissful sigh of contentment, adjusting to his size. And Jisung can hardly believe it; he’s actually going to marry you and keep you in his life forever. He gets to feel this forever.   

The thought is making him impossibly hard as hips rock into you, emptying out those moans he’s grown to love so much. 

  “Jisung, you feel so good right now, baby,” you purr into his ear, his nails digging into your thighs to get a firmer grip as you ride him, writhing, whining hips giving him chills as you engulf him from every angle. 

“Goddamn,” He moans. “You do too.” 

When Jisung vocalizes during sex, it comes from some deep, carnal place that drives you absolutely mad. And then, he finds his second wind, snaking one arm around your waist, the other supporting his weight on the couch as he starts plunging into your pussy. You're losing composure, your choppy moans matching the tempo of his thrusts as your eyes roll back in your head, being fucked dumb over his shoulder.    When he tires, it’s like a perfect pass off, the way you grind against him.  He releases a guttural noise, head back against the futon as he slaps your thigh in encouragement, coaxing you to keep riding him just…like…that.    He looks up at you again, with stars in his eyes.  “I wish you could see yourself right now.”    “I can.” Your arm around his neck, fingers in his hair, you can see yourself in the reflection of the chain of mirrors along the wall behind you both.    “Oh, good,” Jisung says with a half-smile, your cunt still swallowing him up at this languid pace.  “See how pretty you look when you’re being fucked senseless like this?” He watches your face, the way your chest flutters with tiny gasps and your face twitches when you hit that certain spot.    "Yeah, I do," you barely manage to respond.    “Only thing prettier is how you look when you cum.” His praise pushes you further, two fingers sliding between your lips that you welcome, and Jisung closes his eyes, all of his senses overstimulated as he dangerously evades his orgasm, thanks to shutting out the sight of you absolutely wracked with pleasure, bouncing on his cock, with his fingers at the back of your throat.    You can’t speak, your mouth obstructed, so you begin to whine instead, and he presses on your tongue, making you gag over and over again as you unravel on him.  Jisung feels you cumming, he puts both arms around your waist as he pounds into you from below until he pulls you down a final time, his breath hitching as he allows his release to take over, cursing as he empties inside of you.    As your bodies slowly come down from the peak of ecstasy, you stay intertwined, breathless and sated.  The room is filled with a warm, intimate silence, broken only by the occasional soft sigh and the sound of your synchronized heartbeats.    Jisung gazes into your eyes with a tender expression, his fingers softly brushing a strand of hair away from your face.  “I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he whispers.    You smile warmly in response, leaning in to kiss him sweetly.  “I feel the same way,” you murmur against his lips.  “Forever sounds pretty perfect.”    The two of you lay there for a while longer, basking in the post-coital afterglow and the knowledge that your love has reached a new level of commitment. The future seems brighter and more promising than ever before, filled with endless possibilities now for the careers of you both. 

Eventually, you two gather the strength to get up and clean up the evidence of your passionate encounter. As you help each other get dressed, there's a sense of contentment and serenity in the air.  With one last lingering kiss, you make your way back outside to catch an Uber back to the hotel, likely for a highly-anticipated round two.      What? You two are rockstars.  Did you expect anything less? 

[vamphorica]

ashes to ashes, dust to dust

i wrote a very short fic inspired by @iheartmello 's absolutely wonderful birthday piece for mello. it really inspired me, thank you so much Rudy for creating it ♡

just be warned that i very much return to my roots in horror writing with this one, so it is quite intense. aside from that, enjoy!

read below (683 words) ⬎

You are holding the hand of a stranger. You ought to recognise him really, he is you, but at the age of ten years old, you perceive him only in that hazy apparition in which all adults fall into. A man who does not smile, or speak to you, but clings onto your hand with a force that makes you wince. You wonder if he is lonely, so you tolerate the discomfort in the hope that maybe it will make him feel better, his desire to possess you like a spirit. To be exorcised of his embrace might hurt him, and there is something of the sadness that lingers in his expression that you feel responsible for. 

Looking around, there is nothing else to be seen in this endless void in which the two of you stand. You are at an age where someone is always present to explain life’s mysteries, to satiate your ever growing curiosity about the world, but there is a distinct loss of that guidance here. You can hear your heartbeat in the centre of your mind, a throbbing anxiety that claws away with questions you feel too overwhelmed to ask. In fact, the very thought of trying to converse with the one beside you has not even occurred, and as you meet his gaze – he is looking at you too – you wonder if you ought to say something. Anything. 

Before you can open your mouth, to eject words that could resemble a sentence, the stench of burning hits you. Your only experience with such an odour has been contained. A bonfire erected on Guy Fawkes night, the small flame of a lighter you once found on the pavement, an unfortunate attempt at baking a cake for a birthday. The scent, unpleasant, posed no real threat, but there is something rather more dangerous in the unrelentless harshness of what now emanates here. 

You watch as the man aside you becomes consumed by flames.

It is so without warning that you cannot conceptualise what you witness. The blaze is blinding, your eyes watering in the close proximity, and the heat is close to unbearable. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of your neck and you hear yourself screaming but you know you aren’t, that it is the intense pressure building up in your head that screeches at the horror of flesh set alight.

Paralysed, you cannot pull away from the tight grip with which the man holds onto you, even if you had thought to do so. His stare is so intense, even as the flames crawl up onto his face, charring his pale skin to a nauseating redness turned black within an instant. He is calm. No slight indication in his expression suggests even discomfort, much less the pain of being burnt alive. He is disintegrating before your eyes, as the crackling sound evident of cremation tears through that silence between the two of you. It is only a single tear that threatens his demeanour and even then, it does not fall.

The fire only grows, a creature so furious in its intent to destroy that the very havoc it enkindles encourages its aggression. It will reach you too, eventually, if the dense smoke that arises from its wrath doesn’t suffocate you first. You already feel like you have lost the ability to breathe, as if your lungs have collapsed against your ribcage under the pressure of keeping you alive. You are fucking scared, and you still have no idea what any of this means, only that you are watching the death of a man who you believe you ought to have saved, somehow. You are just a child, how are you meant to do such a thing?

The stranger’s hand suddenly pulls back from your own, as you stagger backwards, a ragged gasp now pulled sharply within. His outstretched palm, decorated by a small bracelet with a silver cross charm that hangs from his wrist, is the last thing you see before the flames reclaim it, condemning it to the fate of nothing more than ash.

[thedo0zyslider]

Scott, who is currnetly crammed into a small dirt hole, stares back at the green, cat like eyes blinking back at him in the almost utter darkness. The eyes of the one and only Tango. The one of the Tek variety.

Martyn had told him to hide, for just a little bit, and he hadn’t expected to wind up in the exact same hidey hole that the other last green on the sever had chosen.

It's an awkward thing, when Scott realizes he's crashed his neighbors hiding space. It also leads to a lot of staring into each other's eyes, because there is nowhere else to look. The hole is dark, only being illumated by a single torch light, and it is so small that he can barely see the walls past Tango's form.

Eventually though, after they've been staring long enough to memroize what each other's eyes look like in great detail. Tango lets out a gentle chuckle. "This is soooo bad if someone finds us!" His words are quiet, and his breath just falls short of Scott’s face.

"Yeah, yeah it would be." Scott agrees, a small smile escaping him. He cannot help but notice how close they are, how their bodies are flushed against each other. He can't help but notice how Tango practically has an arm around his lower torso, because bending it any other way would be uncomfortable. Scott notices how he's basically straddling the blaze as well, because a one by two hole will never be big enough for one person, let alone two.

"Soo....whatddya wanna do?" Tango jokes, his tail flicking against Scott's legs. He smiles in return, running a teasing hand over the other's chest.

"What ever you wanna do~" He purrs, leaning downwards. Tango smiles up at him, their foreheads bumping, until the blaze tits his head to the side a bit more, and a shiver of what feels like anticipation runs through Scott's body.

Their lips brush, just barely, before both them pull back. Well, it feels like both of them, but it's mainly Scott who does so. He's not very sure on going through with this is all after he thinks about it, even if he really really wanted to in the moment.

Based on what little he knew or Team T.I.E.S' members and their pasts, he had to wonder if Tango was with one of them. In a way that was more than friendship. He had to wonder if this would be cheating on anybody, because most of their servermates had formed some pretty steady relationships by this point. (Scott knew he was fine, because what him and Martyn were wasn't like that, but it also wasn't just a friendship either. And Martyn had said it was fine if explored other options, and he had agreed in return.)

Tango gives him a curious glance, one that's maybe a little concerned as well, and Scott voices his concerns.

"You're not gonna be...betraying anyone with this are you?" He asked, one of his hands having come down to cup Tango's cheek.

"No," Tango breathed, their faces barely two inches apart now. "Are you..?"

Scott shook his head no, but before he could finally lean in, there was the distinct sound of Grian’s voice above them. Because of course they would he interrupted right during the best moment, of course.

Both men froze in an instant, yet at the same time not moving away from each other, and stayed deathly silent as footsteps sounded above them. It takes a few minutes of Grian yelling at someone a bit further away, who seems to be either Joel or Jimmy, before their avian friend is gone and the world above them is silent once again.

Scott can barely believe it. They were less than ten blocks under the surface, and half of the people chasing them couldn't even think to dig out so much as a shallow hole. What were the odds of that.

"I don't think they're gonna find us for a while....." Tango murmured against his lips a moment later, warm breath ghosting over Scott’s face; his husky voice feeling rather loud in the newfound silence. And that's the moment be decides to hell with it, and promptly connects their lips.

Kissing Tango is warm and lovely and something like Scott’s never done before. It's less hotter and flamey than it looks like it would be in all honesty. At least in one way for now, because there are hands tugging at his hair and they are edging him on a great deal.

He bites Tango's lip when they go back in for seconds, and the blaze whines at that. Scott kisses him harder after that, and the only thing keeping him from destroying the blonde's neck was the fact that Tango had beaten him too it.

Sharp teeth graze over his neck as soon as they disconnect for a second time, teasingly running over his gills. Scott hums in pleasure when Tango finally bites down, and moves to grab ahold of the back of the blazeborn's head and wrap his fingers in soft blonde hair. Scott cranes his neck back after a moment, letting Tango have more access to bite and bruise his skin.

Not long after that there is the sound of blocks breaking, and the two of them fail to notice until there is more light flooding the hole than torchlight could ever provide. Tango looks up, cat like pupils expanding again, and softly moves away from where he was biting Scott’s neck. Much to the latters disappointment.

Thankfully, it is only Martyn, who blinks at them while he's processing what he just walked in on. As his ally does this, Scott scarmbles off Tango, already missing the other's warmth, and practically stumbles out of the entrance Martyn had made.

"We're you two making out down there!?" Martyn exclaims, a tease and laugh on tge edge of his tone. He's pushed out into the sunlight by Tango, who is blushing like Scott had never seen him before. He sees how much of a mess the blaze truly is once they aren't shoved in a whole and has proper lighting, and he's sure he looks worse. Considering what exactly they'd been doing when Martyn found the two of them.

"Did you want in or something?" Scott asks, and giggles when the comment ends in both the blonde's blushing. That's where Martyn decides to call it a day, and that it's time for Tango to go home. No more making out today, not for the two of them anyways.

But before he leaves Tango presses a fleeting kiss to Scott’s red and puffy lips, and murmurs a promise to visit him later. Scott murmurs back that he'll be waiting, and prepares himself to endure all his teammates teases on the way back home.

[yumenoberu]

Blue Flame

Hikaru Hitachiin x fem!reader

summary: While a blue flame burns with more intensity, an orange flame will always glow brighter. Hikaru is forced to confront his emotions when he finds out the girl he loves chooses his brother.

word count: 539 words

warnings: light angst

published: 12/11/24

author’s note: For those who dunno, for context Hikaru’s host color is blue and Kaoru’s is orange, so hopefully the motif makes more sense with this in mind uhuhuhu. This ones very short and not so sweet bcs I def didn’t make this while procrastinating😁😁 pls pray for my grades- 💀

If I had it my way, you’d be mine,

Hikaru bolts down the open corridor through the highschool building, loafers clamoring violently against the polished pavement, dashing so rapidly it was nearly enough to create sparks.

And I, yours.

“Hikaru wait!” A voice roared from behind him,

Why do you call me?

Decelerating, he huffs and groans. Colliding into the wall to catch his breath and gather his consciousness. He hadn't noticed he ran—if he was in an even worse headspace he would’ve even leaped off the window from their classroom to get away,

Y/n wheezes to get her heart’s rhythm back in tune, noticeably disheveled from the wind even from the distance. “Geez! I know you’re fighting with Kaoru but, please—don’t just run off like that! We want to make our feelings clear once and for all,”

As if my pain isn’t already enough to bear,

“Our relationship isn’t something we want to hide from you! If you’re not willing to hear me out, then at least hear what Kaoru has to say!” She blazed at him with an unquenchable resolve even despite her exhaustion, igniting the strength she had left to reach him from across the courtyard,

Kaoru…

“Oioi!! You’re not escaping!!” She blazed between breaths, now standing before him, arms locked on either side of his forearms, keeping him in place.

“Give it up… I’m too tired to run anyway,” Hikaru huffs, defeated, shoving her hands off of him. Sighing as he leans then shrinks against the wall, crouching below her with his head downcast and hands perched on the crown of his head.

You think I don’t already hate myself enough—that I don’t know I’m being selfish for still wishing it was me?

“I feel I have to apologize to you, we truly never meant to keep it a secret, I swear it.” Behind his bangs he watched as Y/n similarly sighs and crouches down next to him by the wall,

“About Kaoru and me—“ She turned to him, eyes sincere, alight like embers.

Kaoru…Is it so wrong for me to think ‘it’s unfair’?

Despite his best efforts, Hikaru reaches towards her—

It’s all your fault.

And in the most unexpected of circumstances, he cradles the sides of her face, leaning onto her forehead with the most longing—most desperate of gazes.

I’ve always wanted to hold you,

“… What’s wrong?” Completely in defiance to her initial shock and explosion, she concedes, her reply feather-light. Speaking with such tenderness—such sincerity, it’s as if the last thing she would do was implode at him like she did moments before.

“That’s not…” Oh how he crumbled, ruptured inside at the sight—at the prospect that those eyes, those heavenly flames that undulated with such fervor, that he wasn’t ever the fan that stirred that flame.

Stop that.

“You’re unfair.” Hikaru chokes out sour with dread distinct in his voice and in his pining, pleading expression.

“What are you saying?” Y/n grazes the hands holding her face, eyes now mirroring the same pain and agitation in his own—yet hers still pervaded with an unmatched, suffocating warmth.

It burns.

I want to hate you,

But I can’t hate you.

How can I hate you when,

“I love you—“

So, so much.

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