#but it would be satisfying if it did happen

[tricoloreddango]

Yandere Mydei Headcanons

Mydei x gn! reader

cw: isolation, controlling relationship, overprotectiveness, paranoia, spanking, leg injuring, mentions of non-con (Mydei thinks of it but doesn’t act on it), coercion.

Beware of spoilers.

Don’t read it if you’re a minor!

Origins

You’re all good with Mydei until something happens to you—suddenly you’re a threat to yourself, or anything bad that there is becomes a threat to you as well.

—When Mydei first met you, he thought of you as capable enough of taking care of yourself. Not only did you know how to fight, you also had a mouth on you, one comparable to his. While it brought him trouble, he admired your strong will and an ability to stand up for yourself in this cruel world, even in front of someone like Mydei, and he eventually he let you close to him and form a relationship with.

His feelings of confidence towards your ability quickly started to change, after you got badly injured in the battle. Hearing about this felt like a hot whiplash on his back. It didn’t matter nothing has been happening to you so far until this point, and that you were still alive. This singular incident proved that there’s always an enemy stronger than you, a risk worse than you can manage and… his mother Gorgo was a great warrior too, only to meet a deadly fate in the end too.

Paranoid thoughts filled his mind, and soon, his feelings changed from pride for you, to the sense of anger at your willingness to expose yourself to so many risks of this world with how eager for the world and challenge taking you were. And only Mydei could protect you from these risks, taking on another burden. He needed you with him desperately, the only person that truly can get through him.

—You weren’t happy about any of this, of course. From being so free, to Mydei constantly checking on you, demanding answers, questioning your ability, scolding you; until you no longer were an autonomous person, but instead under his control he’d never dare to call something else than “guidance”.

How Mydei treats the situation

All this road along, he failed to realize he was protecting his feelings instead, more than you actually needed to be protected.

—With time, rules became stricter, until you no longer could leave outside without him. No matter how much not being able to fight was depressing to you, if it truly bothers you so much, while it hurt Mydei to cut your wings like this, all he’d tell you is that you could always have a sparring training with him. He’d rather let guilt eat him alive at night, than let you get yourself injured again. Mydei truly didn’t enjoy hurting you, but hurt was never avoided either.

—Mydei’s actions were fueled by his paranoia and fears, but he was still self aware about how this affects you—he just had to prioritize one over another, safety over happiness, but still balance your wellbeing somewhat as suffering wasn’t an option either.

If you were unhappy about something, he’d try to find a substitute for what you were lacking, which of course would never compare to the real deal—but the need to keep you safe was bigger than you being fully satisfied. He lost a lot of his tribe, he lost his mother, how can he lose someone he loves too? He learned from his lessons of being merciful towards the world. He’d be cruel towards his enemies, involuntarily cruel to you, but at least you were alive and safe.

—With his usual ways of dealing with problems being violence, a most straightforward and effective method, there was not much that Mydei wouldn’t do or much that would hold him back from doing bad things in your name—any threat to you would be immediately dealt with, even if it was meant to be more bloodshed. Just don’t look at him as if he’s a monster afterwards, or he’ll have to start making it a secret to keep away from you. Mydei had enough self-doubts after killing his own father.

Punishment

He loved you, but he’ll be strict if he needs to be. It was a matter of you forcing him to be.

—With what little freedom he puts you through and him not being entirely delirious, he’d try to be patient with you. He didn’t expect you to ever forgive him, knowing it’s difficult on you and that your life will never be really yours, even if your coldness towards forgiveness made him feel guilty… but he still chased your compliance and understanding, reminding you it’s about your safety. He’d give you time, but if you continue disregarding his orders and concerns for too long, he’d be forced to take measures he wouldn’t want to deliver onto you. He might hurt his enemies with ease, but hurting you was a last resort, as you didn’t cross him the same way his enemies would and naturally his affection held him back; so you’d have to push him really hard for him to finally make a decision, that perhaps this is his only chance.

—Constantly trying to run away and him always hunting you down, despite his warnings and small withdrawal of comforts from you as a punishment—Mydei didn’t know what else he could do to keep you in place, it’s enough for him to finally think that maybe only his usual way will work at this point.

He just wouldn’t make his violence as severe as he’d do towards a foe, considering you were meant to learn and were his love, not to be brutalized upon his anger. He needed something you can recover from, but something painful enough to leave you hesitant to misbehave again.

He didn’t enjoy putting you over his lap, he felt guilt hearing your cries and pain, to the point that he’ll hold you tight afterwards, for his own comfort too. However, that guilt was something that will gradually disappear if you shall repeat same attempts regardless of being punished. If you ever reach that point, you’ll be deemed just stupid and stubborn by him, and each spanking session will feel only right and not cruel anymore. If you choose to listen instead and stop running away, but still keep making other forms of disobedience towards his protection , such penalties will be rare, replaced with from simple harsh scolding to taking away your privileges (especially outside-related); all depending on the extent of the offense.

—In worst case possible, he’d simply chain you up or… hurt a leg or two so you can’t leave, but it’d have to be done after long months of you exposing yourself to the danger and ignoring his accumulating anger and anxiety. The injury wouldn’t be anything that would permanently disable you either, even if the pain of it would be unimaginable; but Mydei would make it clear to you, that you left him no choice, and that he’ll take a care of your legs as long as you listen to him now. If anything, you having to be dependent on him when recovering felt most relaxing for Mydei.

Living with Mydei:

You are his lover, no matter how much you might struggle. Let him keep some sense of normality with you.

—While your relationship could never be the same again, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to accommodate it to be about the same. What can be done only outside, he’d still let you, as long as you were leaving with him. You weren’t entirely a prisoner by him, it wasn’t really about locking you up but keeping you away from harm after all. However, this didn’t mean you’d be able to drag him everywhere. There were certain places deemed as more dangerous, but not even because of the threat, but his paranoia you’ll take advantage to escape again.

—When it came to his treatment towards you as your lover, he still offered you same affection or respite in his arms. The issue was, your eagerness was naturally disappearing, creating a distance between you two. It was something Mydei found hard to accept. Accepting this would mean accepting your defiance towards what he was doing for you. This would fuel the sense you’re being ungrateful. Even scarier was losing your love for him, and he was so scared of losing you.

That’s why sometimes he’d force that affection on you, but he loved the moments when you came to him even more; whether they were out of sentiment or you feeling down by your situation. He’d comfort you about everything as if it wasn’t his own doing, but something that simply needed to be done. And no matter how selfish it sounded, he wanted you to comfort him too, with Mydei behaving as if this situation affected him a lot too, especially when you were so disobedient and not understanding. He tended to make himself victimized without even realizing.

--If you snap at him because you have enough of living like this, he won’t be happy. He’ll try to be patient for first few moments, trying to comfort you still, but drag this on and he’ll snap at you too, maybe with a threat of punishment on his lips. That usually shuts you up. Mydei just wasn’t good at being vulnerable, and it was hard for him to sometimes understand your cries and handle your emotions, no matter how valid they were. You just made him even more guilty again, he just wanted to make you quiet, despite it being a runaway from the problem and not a solution to your growing resentment or depression.

But if you really need your space and can’t stop talking about it, he’d let you have it… just not without making it look like a problem for him, no matter how childish that may seem from him. Mydei was used to sleeping next to you.

—If you’ve been particularly well behaved recently, you’ll see his mood to get much better, even show some excitement at the prospect of having normalcy with you again. Living with him could become more bearable, as his positive mood keeps the atmosphere lighter, and him bit more lenient with you. Keep up the good work and he’ll reward you too.

—Mydei would never admit this to you, but he keeps dreaming about the idea of you becoming entirely dependent on him. No more struggle, and he gets to be your hero and feel assured in his sense of need for your protection. You clinging to him, coming to him willingly, telling him you need him, maybe even being scared of being away from your Mydei. Of course it’d mean you are far gone at this point, nothing like the person from the first meeting, and this state, he did not want you to reach. You would have tried to kill him after hearing his fantasy spoken aloud anyway.

Sexuality

There were things he wanted to do to you, he didn’t want you to know.

While Mydei still had enough decorum and self restraint to not force himself on you, especially aware of the pain it’d bring you and guilt for him, he couldn’t deny the fact he missed the pleasure and closeness your body used to bring him. It was hard to keep himself around you sometimes, especially with his strong emotions about the situation that needed the relief too or his need for your affection, but he managed when he thought of your possible pain.

It’s just his thoughts that started to go haywire after a while of controlling you like this. Mydei wouldn’t actually force you physically, but he kept having his “what if” thoughts and unwanted fantasies. Maybe if he was to do this, he’d enforce compliance onto you, with you crying, begging and promising him you’ll listen and stay. Maybe you’d be able to think about him only and not the outside world. Maybe it would remind you of what you two once had, that it still exists somewhere, and your begs would be for more this time.

Thankfully he was able to see it was just wishful thinking, and not act on these thoughts like a fool… at least for now. Mydei felt lonely in this situation too; you’d least expect it when he’s trying to seduce you again, perhaps by an attempt of forcing desperation into you with little sneaky touches during his affections or by instilling a sense of guilt with a reminder of how much he’s trying for you. Surely you needed to blow off some steam too anyway.

Final words

Living with Mydei doesn’t have to be most miserable, if you play your cards right and choose to accept his offer of safety. While you didn’t have a choice in a traditional sense, you had a choice to make a situation better for yourself and keep some normalcy and happiness leftovers—if you choose to try to understand his reasonings, because sadly, he won’t ever change his mind. Mydei wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone in your name, but he’d hate for you to ever blame him for it. He’d hate to hurt you even more, he constantly lived with the fear he was doing so and with that, had even more guilt to carry; yet it was all buried by the sense of duty to keep you safe, one driving him motivated enough to keep going in “protecting” you, even if it felt more like avoidance towards his own problems.

Accept him, and he’s your old Mydei… somewhat. Reject him, and now you two struggle.

[facts-i-just-made-up]

The Downfall of Temu, 1817-2025

Though Temu is best known today as a place to pay low prices for inaccurately represented goods, it was not always so. When it was founded by Oscar "Temu" Temunsson in 1817, it was made to be an auction house for the finest goods like Southernby's or Christianne's.

The downfall began nearly as soon as Temu went online, with "online" in 1817 referring to it being a building on London's wealthy "King's Line" road near Westminster. Buyers were always satisfied with Temu's guarantee, which was included in The Guarantee of Guarantee, signed in Guarantee, London- The first official Guarantee ever to be guaranteed.

But then in 1819, the Cracks began to show. James and Lynda Crack were infamous in the Americas for showing merchandise that did not in the end reflect what the customer would buy. As such, they were banished from the United States, a young country at that time known as "Some States That Don't Yet Hate Each Other." Arriving in London, they forged papers to begin selling at Temu.

The damage to Temu's reputation was bad, but not fatal. Temunsson himself tried to repair the house's image by selling several notorious items, including the world's largest Yorkshire Pudding (At 870 Pounds), the most adopted dog (At 19 Pounds), and the most flattened Matzo ever smashed flat by numerous strikes with a mallet (At 3300 Pounds), all of which sold for over ten thousand pounds sterling. The company lasted as a respectable entity well into the 1900s as a result.

In 1949 though, another blow was blown to Temu, and boy how it blew. Hurricane Pholacio made landfall on the beaches of London and ruined the prized collection of Candy Floss (Known as "Gummy Bear" in Modern English) sculptures that Temu had on display. No insurer would take the job, as you have to get insurers before the disaster happens, and Temu had to sell its physical location to make ends meet.

Disembodied, Temu began to haunt other stores and manufacturers, sucking on their revenues and leaving them desiccated. So it lurked, weakened, for decades until Etsy came along. Etsy was, in past times, a resource where artists could sell their wares. Unfortunately, Temu drop(shipped) upon it and sucked it dry of any chance for legitimate creators to thrive. Temu grew more and more powerful until it became the economic disaster (or "Nosferatemu") it is today.

Oddly enough, Oscar "Temu" Temunsson seems to have predicted this even when he said on his death bed in 1891, "Temu is gonna suck so fuckin' bad in the 2020s with dropshipping and all." He then exploded into confetti, as was the gentlemanly tradition at the time.

[girl-lostconnection]

unsweetened lemonade anon here again! (my anon tag can be 🍓, if you do those!) i just have so many ideas!! sorry for spamming you 😣

like they start dating at the beginning of their senior year (or the british equivalent ?) and everyone is like… “wot.” because they’re used to these two being so small, defensive and awkward. but nerd!reader has grown into herself and starts recycling her clothes to make them nicer, and punk!simon is working at a macca’s part time and making a bit of money, and he starts thrifting for himself and finding her secondhand jewelry. omg you’ve actually created a monster with this AU (me.)

AGHHHH they’re like two mangy dogs finally getting adopted and bathed and taken care of 🥹 and nerd!reader writes her own book and the first page says

“to that boy from school. i wish you well.” and simon keeps that damn book with him always. omg i’m so sorry but it’s so cute to meeeee

Sure thing, 🍓 anon! And don’t apologise, im so happy to talk about these two and you just give me another opportunity to do so. So feel free to hop on and share whatever comes to your head.

Also

Anon, what have you done. What have you done, anon, im tearing up at these two. And the book???? Stop, im gonna full on cry.

God, the way Simon would TREASURE it. The way he’d hold onto it, bringing it with him everywhere and reading it and keeping it as close to himself as possible.

But if we push my tears aside for one sec, imagine tall awkwardly wide and lanky Simon bringing Nerd!Reader second hand jewellery like he’s bringing them the game from his hunt.

The way he’d loom close by the first time he does buy them something because it’s really nothing special and he found it at the tiny thrift store and it’s just a small thing. Nothing flashy or expensive, probably a bracelet with charms he thought would look nicely on them.

(He’s too embarrassed to buy them a ring because he’s definitely gonna think too much about it and end up making them a weird proposal. He then would proceed to crawl away and roll under his bed, asking the ground to swallow him (im sorry))

And Simon who’s working as a butcher apprentice and finally starts eating a little bit better because his boss sees the way this big lad comes into work and everyone in the neighbourhood know of Simon’s dad so he just starts writing off some things here and there.

Nothing much because Simon is prideful and allergic to anyone taking pity on him and he would rather starve, but here it seems harmless and it’s just small things here and there. So he takes them and he proudly brings them to Reader the first time it happens.

The same way dogs/cats would bring you a small animal they caught, literally smirking with how satisfied he is. It doesn’t dawn on him until they ask that…he has no idea what to do with it. Simon doesn’t know how to cook meat — his mom usually did it. But with the way Riley-senior looms around the house he doesn’t want to bring it home.

So Reader offers to cook it at their place and later just packs it up carefully in neat containers and gives Simon the bag to bring it home to his mom and Tommy. So they can all eat without Simon’s dad finding out about the meat.

God, im gonna go spin in my chair and come back with something more coherent.

Wait for me, anon, im gonna bring you something decent, you brought me such good idea seeds I could grow fanfic sequoia in three days with it.

[dannyboy-writes]

Just some IV

Helloo!! This is the end of this story! I hope you’ve enjoyed it and thank you so much for all the feedback it had :)

The sunlight coming from the window startled you, and you noticed Natasha standing by it, her back to you.

She had only just woken, or you had grown too used to her slipping out of your arms as you slept.

“Why are you up?” You asked, your voice straining at your throat.

She tensed, then relaxed. “I was thinking.”

“What?”

“It’s late.”

“By the way the light is coming in, yes." It was probably mid morning, Fury wasn't going to like the lost hours. "But you weren't thinking that." 

She smiled to herself, turning to look at you. "No, I wasn't."

You stretched your arms and back, still laying down. "What were you really thinking?" 

She shook her head, "It doesn't matter."

You weren't satisfied with her answer, but she continued nonetheless, "How's your nose?"

You sat up, “I've had worse."

She sat by you, toying with her fingers. Silent.

"How did you sleep?" You asked.

She sighed, "Fine for a while."

"And then?"

"I keep having nightmares," she admitted, your eyes focused on her.

Nightmares were common in your line of work, you grew used to them. Waking up in a cold sweat, hand in your gun or a knife. Throwing something nearby your hand in a reflex.

"What about?"

She bit her lip, staring at you. At your busted nose, and the stitches they had sewn in your eyebrow. Light violet bruise by your cheek and half your face lit with the sun.

The morning sunlight did wonders in your face. 

"You." She let out quickly. "You're in all my nightmares."

You furrowed your brows, "Wha- How? Why?"

"I'm terrified.”

”Of me?"

“For you.” Your eyes were so focused on hers she felt you would pierce through her. “I'm terrified of what could happen to you. Every night I dream something goes wrong, and every night I wake up panting thinking you're gone.

I've had them for so long now. First I thought they would go away, that one day I would just stop freaking out. Then I pushed you away because it was driving me crazy,” she smiled, “And that didn't work. At all. Now I was just worried but at a distance. And then I couldn't sleep anymore.”

You didn't speak.

"The night we fell asleep on the couch was the first real sleep I had in weeks. And that is not a comfy sofa," she chuckled.

She searched in your face for a hint of something, but you had always been hard to read. “Say something, please."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I- Thought it would be easier."

You shook your head in disbelief, pinching your nose softly, and you looked up at her.

Her hair fell on her face as she looked downwards some more, so you tilted her head up holding her cheeks. "I never wanted this to be over. It was your call." You put a hair strand behind her ear. "Is that still what you want, Nat?"

Her eyes found yours with determination this time. "No."

You kissed her deeply and she melted into you, desperate for your embrace. Your hands rustling her hair and pulling her closer to you. Not stopping to breathe. 

Her nose brushed yours and a pinch of pain went up your nerves, but you swallowed any whine that would come out. Her hands clasped tightly your face, not letting you go.

She pulled closer and closer to you and one movement put her nose too close to yours and you stopped in pain.

"I'm sorry." She stopped to look at you. 

“It’s fine.” You caressed her cheek. “I’m more than okay.” You smiled.

“Me too.”

[hana-no-seiiki]

My first writing commission! This will be a multipart series for HOTD. Featuring yanderes, political warfare and overall mayhem. And perhaps?? some time traveling??

Thank you @dawntheday for commissioning this project.

// tw/cw: reader is not a targaryen. canon based violence, incest, sexism, the usual. canon divergences. reader is gender neutral but is described as ethereal. reader gets pimped out (implicit/short descriptions). seggs/light smut. basically a lot of disgusting shit happens.

AND THEN, THERE WAS YOU [PROLOGUE]

Childbirth was one of the most traumatic, painful and bloody experiences known to man. The sheer agony of a child being ripped out of your womb, kicking and screaming. And yet, so many deemed it miraculous event. All joy, love and positivity.

It was horrific to even witness.

But the Gods wouldn’t be satisfied for you to be a bystander. No. You would find out that childbirth was worse when you were the one being born.

Sentience was a curse. One forced upon you since the beginning. You could feel the push of your mother’s walls, constricting you, flattening you, forcing you out into the world. Her screams, your cries, and the panicking voices of the midwives as you finally, finally made it out were all too much. The blood all too much.

You never really forget that experience even as you grew older. Features of your youth melted away to reveal ethereal beauty. One that commanded worship and awe.

That was another thing the Gods made you have to torture you. Droves and droves of sick and twisted people at your doorstep as your birth parents watched in delight, their coffers filled to the brim with gold.

But perhaps it wasn’t always a curse. Your beauty, I mean. Now that you’ve stolen much of their earnings and escaped to another continent.

Westeros.

A journey by sea it took. For you to crawl your way into the newly conquered lands. Bloodied and battered from the journey. Exhausted yet eager to renew yourself in the new lands your feet would walk upon.

Your first ever job was at a Brothel. Taking in clients like the way your parents did to you not so long ago, but of your own accord.

That was where you met Aegon Targaryen. Aegon the Conqueror. Loud, proud, and scrotum heavy. You’ve heard of the classic old tale where the men of his family would visit this place to sow their oats. Bastards upon bastards littered the place. You knew that one of these days, you would be bear his spunk and parade it around like many others. Your ego ached for it even. To conquer the conquerer. To bear a dragon’s seed.

Little did you know, the dragon already knew you.

“I dreamt of you.” He said as he ravished you, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t recognize. You certainly hadn’t seen in your family’s nor have your old clients. “Like I dream of the walkers. Of an apocalypse to come.”

You’ve heard of his rough and relentless way in the sack. How your fellow workers complained of the way they were treated, how they couldn’t walk any further than two feet after he was done with them. The man did not view them as anything more than objects after all. Something to toss aside when he was done.

But if anything, he’d been the most attached and sappiest man you’ve ever had the fortune of bedding. Disgustingly so.

“You. You are the calm amongst those nightmares.“ He was gentle, loving. Nothing like Aegon the Conqueror that you’ve heard of. Nothing like the Aegon the Conqueror that you wanted.

As soon as he fell asleep, you went and disappeared.

It is not long before he calls upon you. Again and again, murmuring about dreams and winter. You’ve even met his wives. All so eager to meet you. All so kind and benevolent. All so unlike the expectations you’ve set in your mind and heart. Expectations you were willing to brave through. Somehow, drama and your potential death was better than the constricting vice they held over you. Memories flashed through your head. Of your mother, of your birth. Of blood and viscera.

You try to leave but are sent back to Aegon’s chambers in an instant.

“You may leave. You may run. But nothing will stop you from finding your way back to the Dragon’s nest. Fate wills it so.” He said, but all you heard was a challenge.

“You’ll find that I’m quite stubborn regardless.”

You quickly find out that Aegon knew your movements from his dreams. Each plan of yours to escape had been foiled before it had happened.

And so you stopped, you let him and his wives coddle and fuck you when they wanted.

Years later, an opportunity presents itself. A cliff overlooking the ocean. So vast and wide. Yet to be taken and shackled by the man who took your freedom away.

You do not hesitate. Not for one moment.

“Come.”

You jump. You bet that Aegon did not foresee that coming considering he was too shocked to catch you. Your death would be swift you suppose. At least it wouldn’t be as arduous as repeating the same day over and over again.

Your eyes fluttered open, a meeting between [e/c] and purple. You grimaced as you see her platinum blonde hair and luxurious outdoor clothing. Blood across her face and a knife in her hand.

It can’t be . . .

Tears fall down your cheeks. Your broken cries echo through the woods.

a/n: future chapters will be longer because hotd is hotd.

[yup-thats-me]

born to die • Wi Ha-Joon

pairing: racer!Wi Ha Joon x fem!reader summary: how it'd feel like to have racer!Ha Joon as your bf? warning: dark, name-calling, suggestive, black flag, spitting,riding a dildo, +18 a/n: istfg all the actors from squid game has me in a chokehold😩

racer!Ha Joon who will have you suck him off before he has a race. he'd grab a handful of your hair, thrusting in your mouth relentlessly. his dick getting harder each time he glances down to see tears falling from your eyes, the water mixing with the mascara you wore.

"suck me off like your life depends on it, whore," he'd slap your face, enjoying how you struggled to breathe.

and your life did depend on it. if you were able to satisfy him fifteen minutes before his race, he'd kneel down and lovingly kiss you, enjoying his taste in your mouth. "thank you, baby," he'd say kissing the top of your head. "It'll be a nice game."

and it would happen as he said. on days your lover left with a smile on his face, he would win the race in record time. he'd even break his own records somedays too. you were his lucky charm.

however, if he had left the changing room with a scowl and spit on your face, he'd lose. miserably. crashing against the curbs of the track or sometimes even crashing into another car. those days were the most difficult ones, not for him, though. for you. because he'd tie you up and fuck you for days, for as long as it takes for him to forget about how badly he'd lost.

but don't get him wrong, though. when he wins, he'll shower you with all the riches and flowers and gifts in the world. whenever he wins a cup, he'd catch you as you'd leap onto him, ignoring the blinding flashes of thousands of cameras.

you're his babygirl, and he'll show it off without holding back.

as soon as he comes outside his car, and catches you in his broad arms. he'd be impatient to push you against the hood, your pink panties peeking from the side of your hiked-up mini skirt, both of which had been bought by him, for the world to see. and you couldn't deny that it was hot. incredibly hot.

as a celebrity racer, its a given he'll bring you to every races and all the gatherings with him. you're his prized girl, he'll dress you up himself. he always does. and, made sure you looked gorgeous enough to make other men jealous. he's a strong man. he can handle some douchebags with his bare hands, of course.

one time he nearly killed a man for daring to touch your shoulder. he was a fellow racer too, but that doesn't matter. Ha-Joon's better and richer than him anyway. even if he had killed him, Ha-Joon's sure his sponsors would have dealt with it like a breeze. nonetheless, that man had been hospitalized for a week.

from that incident onwards, no man, in the racer community or outside, for that matter, dared to look at you funny. they really did love their lives, if not their wives, at least.

he'd always had some pretty wild fantasies with you and his prized car, the two most important things in his life, more important than his own life.

so when he wins the racer of the decade, he'd have you ride a dildo stuck to the hood of his metal baby and record you as you rode the silicon toy with gusto.

he just wants you to doll up and be his trophy wife. he has a dream of coming home from a race to see you cooking or doing housework with nothing on except his racing suit. that fantasy won't play out if you work.

and if the thought of working ever crossed your mind, Ha-Joon would be angry. very angry.

he did not want you to work, not because he thinks you're incapable, not at all. he'll just not like it if other men interacted with you other than him. he knows you'd be a very valued worker, but he did not want that.

he's rich enough to provide for the two of you for decades to come and well, if fate has a much crueler destiny decided for him, Ha-Joon had taken care of every possible outcome. so when disaster will strike, you'll live a more than luxurious life.

afterall, you're his prized girl.

[stxrryskys]

Idk gang sometimes I just wanna be manhandled 😔 anyways can u do manhandling HCS for the MW crew? Including Anya cuz I feel like she's stronger than let on.

AHHH I LOVE THIS WHAT THE FREAK SAGE!!

C/W : Mating press, dirty talk, pet names, drooling?, oral (F receiving), over stimulation,degradation, and..man handling..obv

and I think thats it😣😣, not proofread!! Enjoy!

Daisuke:

He was just a baby!! He never thought he'd have you in such a compromising postiton like this

The one thing he wants to do in life is make his girlfriend feel good so when you came to him about how you'd want him to be more rough in bed he did his research, he searched some positions and some things to say that would satisfy you

So when you guys were fucking he had you in ... Mating press, you weren't flexible so you had to admit it was kinda painful at first but the pleasure of his cock hammering in and out of you

"A-am I doing - good? "

"Mhm- fuck Daisuke I'm gonna-" when you came on his cock he just kept going and it was almost to much..

Curly:

He's a big guy, a really big guy, and he's always so gentle with you, part of you wished he'd just throw you down on your bed and just rock your shit, in a sexual sense that is. You had talked to curly about it on a couple of occasions and he's stated that the thought of hurting you makes him uncomfortable, and you understand that and the last thing you wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable.

Today you had a plan, you would act insanely bratty at dinner with his coworkers to yknow.. Make him crack.

"Uh.. Boss will you uh? Excuse us? " his eye was practically twitching and he grabbed your arm, forcing you to follow him to the bathroom.

"This was your plan huh? Act like a fucking brat until I what? Take you to the bathroom and fuck you? " he locked the stall and whisper yelled and propped you up on the sink

"... Depends.. Are you gonna fuck me in the bathroom? "

He scoffed loudly and flipped your dress up, your damp panties in his view

"Shit- fucking slut.. " he muttered

"What did you just call me? "

"I said you were a fucking slut" he pulled your panties down to you ankles and you just bit your lip, this was really happening

10 minutes went by and he couldn't care less about the people at the dinner table, he was just focused on fucking you, his hand over your mouth as he abused your tight cunt, spreading your legs to the point where it hurt, regardless of the conversations you guys had before he was really enjoying himself..

Needless to say he will definitely do this again

Jimmy:

We all know he likes being rough with you, and tonight was no different.

He had a rough day, he was so sick and fucking tired of people always praising curly, always congratulating curly, the only good thing in his life was you. You always praised him, you always congratulated him. He was missing you so he clocked out early just to see you.

"Babe? " he walked into your shared home and tossed his shoes off and began looking around for you, he walked into your shared bedroom and there you were, fingers in your cunt, pumping in and out of you.

"Jeez you could've invited me"

3 hours later and your head is pushed into your pillow, drool dribbling down your chin, Jimmy abusing your cervix from behind with his cock

Anya:

she loves eating your pussy... Like LOVES, so when she came back from a stressful work day at the hospital she was looking for a way to calm down.

You were laying on the couch and she got home, slammed the door, took off her jacket and stormed up to you and grabbed your arm tightly, made you get up off the couch and dragged you to your shared bedroom, she wasn't usually this rough so it was like a different side of her, she must've had a tough day.

She practically pushed you onto the bed and practically ripped off your pj pants

"No panties.. It's almost like you were waiting for me"

She gripped your thighs and forced them apart, the wetness of your pussy already pooling under you.

"Can- can I just- please? " she basically begged

"Yeah- of course my love-ah-! " as soon as you said yes she began to DEVOUR you, she was eating your pussy like she hadnt eaten in ages, and she probably didnt, this was gonna be a looooong night.

THANK YOU FOR READING, REQUESTS ARE OPEN.. also if you reblog also comment.. I wanna know your thoughts!

[newkatzkafe2023]

How would the Monkey Kings feel if after a wild night, in the very early morning, female monkey reader wakes up but is too sleepy to really think about it but sees what she thought was their lips and kissed it and goes back to sleep but the Monkey Kings knew that it was actually their nipple?

Affection and Mild Comedy���

(Lmk Wukong) Wukong Cracked opened his two eyes as the sun flashed in his eyes. You both had an rather exciting night after a party Mk invited you both to, you were just giving him those mischievous eyes as you danced and flirted with him and one thing led to another and now he woke up in his bed. You were just so out of it as you cuddled into Wukong. Wukong purred as he pet your fur gently, kissing your head. Wukong watched one of your eyes crack open as well, trying to focus and kiss him. Though Wukong giggled as you ended up kissing his nipple before going back to sleep, he sighed. You were just the cutest thing🥰

(NR Wukong) Wukong was up early taking a long drag of his cigarette, after the wild night you both had. You were so hot in that little black dress, and he couldn't even control himself, and after getting a few drinks in, you both went completely wild. Now he Wukong was completely satisfied and covered in lipstick stains. Meanwhile, you were in a coma like state Wukong had gone put you in. Though soon you tried to open your eyes, he was peaked over at Wukong. He said, "Good morning" to you with a kiss on your forehead. You tried to kiss him too but you totally missed and left a lipstick kiss on his nipple and just went back to sleep, Wukong just cooed at us and pulled you close.

(HIB Wukong) You were passed out in your shared bed, Wukong had gotten hit with a baby craving and now all you felt was your soul returning to your body. Meanwhile with Wukong he was both satisfied but also very embarrassed, he couldn't believe he just lost control like that and now he hopes you would maybe forget what happened. Wukong had a deep blush when the memories of last night returned to his head, all the noises you made, the positions of your bodies, and your red heart eyes looking up at him. Wukong groaned in embarrassment until he heard you wake up, Wukong watched as you try to kiss him but landed on his nipple before going back to sleep. Wukong hopes you don't remember much either.

(MKR Wukong) Wukong's body was aching, but in a good way, he had one of his secret rendezvous with you, and it was so hot. Wukong found it a turn-on when you pulled him away to have secret romantic mating sessions, this time, you both stayed at an inn during the journey at night, and he went to meet you in your room. You both went extra rough that very night as if you were going to war against each other, the next morning was absolute bliss. Wukong woke up laying on his stomach he looked over at you sleeping in peace, and his hand squeezing your boob. Wukong tried to get up but he was exhausted but dragged his body to you, and cuddle up with you. You woke up a bit to kissed his chest and nipple before going back to sleep, Wukong smirked a bit but held you close in love.

(Netflix Wukong) Ohhhhhhhhh he's out of it as well, Wukong's was still panting with an dazed look on his face. Wukong still had faint heart eyes feeling you in his arms as you laid your head on his chest, he was under your spell from last light at the festival. The chin scratches, the head pats and soon your claws made there way to his.....armor, the next thing he knew he was waking up in bed. You moved a bit to kiss him but got his chest nipple instead, all Wukong did was chirp and moan as he was very sensitive to the affection. I'm sure everything will wear off as you both go back to sleep 😴

(BMW Wukong) Wukong was having one hell of a hangover, he clearly over did it at that celestial banquet you and him crashed together. Now he woke up back on flower fruit mountain looking to see he was naked, one paw handcuffed to the bed and still holding an empty rice eine bottle. Wukong then looked over at your side of the bed, seeing you passed out covered in lovebites and smuched makeup in the nude. Wukong was smug about your condition feeling pride from last night's events, and even laughed a bit as you tried to kiss him but kiss his nimples instead. Wukong would totally tease you for this, but first you both need some sleep.

(Destined one) The Destined one was in compete and utter bliss and peace. Yesterday was your wedding anniversary, and the Destined one took you out on a beautiful date. A walk through the flower fields, a picnic full of your favorite food, rest and finally end the night with an extreme passion. You were definitely surprised at the Destined one's stamina and affection, it was so hot and it went on till the early morning of dawn. You both cuddled and slept in your shared bed, as you tried to kiss him but just Tiredly kiss his nipple and fell asleep. The Destined one didn't respond closing his eyes as he took this as another sigh of affection and love from you.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG😴

[waveofthot]

-Say "ahh"

Osamu x Reader

Warnings: Reader not having eaten due to work, comfort, fluffy end!

Your boss had been flooding your schedule. Making you stay longer hours and eating up all of your time. Even the time you needed to...well... eat! Opting to you buying cheap convenience store food and coffee to keep you sane.

It was finally the weekend though, and your first break in a long time, and by the time you got back, you'd have come home to a quiet house, as your husband already laid in bed asleep

.

.

.

Osamu was a light sleeper, so despite your best efforts the movement around him had him waking up, though he gladly opened his arms to make room once he realized you were back home.

Getting comfortable was easy, you would always nuzzle into him, the warmth from his body embracing your entire being, shielding you from whatever worries you may have had. "Welcome home babe, how was work...?" His voice was rough, sleep still evident. And you were about to reply, but with what felt like your body betraying you and your dignity...

*Growl*

His glances jumped between you and your stomach as he slowly opened his mouth. "Haven't ya eaten, baby?" You kept yours shut, turning your body away as your ears turned red. Despite the tiredness of the previous work days, you suddenly felt the embarrasment of your growling stomach hang in the air.

"Baby?" You felt his body shift, as his hand rested on your arm concern laced in his voice. Looking back at him a bit you see him sat up hovering over you. "Mmm, I did... I- had noodles". His concern didn't disappear, but with a simple sigh it softened. "Actual noodles wouldn't leave ya this hungry Y/N. Fuck... you've been in a work frenzy this past week I assumed ya ate before ya got home..."

*Growl*

Your body betrayed you once more. The way too obvious sound made your body crawl into a ball like some sort of rollie pollie, as if that'll hide you away. His arm didn't follow your movements though, if anything his movements stopped, but only briefly before he placed it back down on you.

"Y/N, have ya even eaten breakfast?" This time it was your turn to freeze. Another sigh followed. The bed moved under you before it stopped and with footsteps approaching, Osamu had squatted down right where you could see him.

His brows tilted up and he carried a soft smile. Even in your nervous state his smile always calmed you down, even if just a bit. "I'm sorry I haven't payed enough attention to ya recently. Here come on, I'll cook ya somethin'. A proper meal." You hastily sat up, muttering a "'Samu it's almost twelve-" just for him to start walking out of the room, only stopping by the door frame to give you a nod signaling you to join him in what definitely is a trip to the kitchen.

You blinked a few times, a tugging on your heart as you realized what just happened. Only interrupted by your stomach growling once more, urging you to follow him.

You slowly stepped forward, eyes watching him as he already started working his magic. He left work before you did and you usually got home late, so your together time, especially this week was scarce and it'd be a crime to say you didn't miss his cooking. Watching how he worked so diligently in preparing a meal *this* late at night, a smile never leaving his face, was just a silent reminder of why you married this man.

At one point he looked back at you. A chuckle escaping his lips. "Watchu lookin' at?" His smile turning into a playful smirk. "Hmm...just looking at my handsome husband... Thank you, 'Samu." His face softened once again, before he grabbed a spoon, scooping up some of whatever he was making, before blowing on it.

"Here babe, try this...whaddya think?" He brought the spoon up to you, signaling you to open your mouth, which you happily oblige. The flavors danced on your tongue, and the warmth of home cooked goodness had you melting. He gives a satisfied hum at your reaction before going back, now plating the food before setting the dish Infront of you.

He sits down, thoroughly enjoying the sight before him. "Yer pretty when ya ain't starvin'" it was almost a whisper, but you were too busy eating to even notice. His eyes briefly fly down to your face before his hand reaches over, thumb gliding over your bottom lip, your body freezing. Your eyes followed his hand as he brings it up to his mouth tongue swiping across the same finger. "Ya had some rice there...would be a waste for it to not get eaten". The only reaction you could give was a quick kiss to his lips before you went back to eating.

He leaned his head on his hand. Heart almost beating out of his chest when you ask for seconds.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ-

I'm back with more haikyuu!!!

I swear the more I post the longer the fic, but no one's booing so ig it's fine ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭

[jacky-rubou]

Stan's Sorrow

Stan still found it difficult to comprehend. Ford sacrificed himself to save him? The one who broke his project, the one who pushed him into the portal, the one who stole his entire identity? Ford still loved him enough to die for him... even after all he's done?

Link to Fic

hey guys, look what I've been working on for the past month or so? this four... kinda five?.. page comic for an older fic of mine that I still hold fondness towards! it's not perfectly exact to what happened in the fic but I think it's better that way. also because it would've killed me to be that particular about details.

anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it like I enjoyed drawing it! this was something I've always kinda wanted to do since I wrote the fic, especially the moments leading up to and right after Ford's sacrifice, but didn't have the confidence or the skill to really draw it like this until now. this was quite an endeavor so I hope my efforts bear fruit haha.

before anyone asks, no, I'm not drawing the fic any further than this. that would kill me. I'm satisfied with what I did for it and if anyone wants to know what happens next the fic is right there haha.

reblogs > likes

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Lizzie's birthday party does not exactly go according to plan.

Word Count: 5,443

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, body image issues, violence, sexual assault, sexual content, and references to past rape.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 12: The Ballad of Sorrowful Souls

Lucy rested her hands flat on the wood of the little vanity, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Almost without her even noticing it, her hair had gotten longer. It was something that, looking back on things, she realized had happened gradually over the years. Letting it go a little longer between trims. Taking off less and less each time. Where the red locks had once only come down to her chin, they now rested a few inches below her collarbones. Brushing her shoulder blades in the back. 

Running her fingers through the fluffy curls, she pursed her lips. When did you get so bloody long? she asked the hair, to no answer.

Sighing, she picked up a few ornate pins, carefully gathering her hair up and sliding them into place, until her hair was entirely pinned up in an elaborate chignon at the base of her neck. Satisfied with her work, she adjusted the straps on her dress and checked her watch. Polly would be there to pick her up on her way to Arrow House for the party soon. Reflected in the mirror behind her, pale and lovely as always, Grace watched her.

“You look beautiful.”

She smiled at the ghost. “Thank you.”

“How are you doing?”

She looked over her shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Sleeping alright?”

“Yep.”

“Those bags under your eyes say otherwise.”

“Fuck. Are they really that obvious?” she turned, squinting at herself in the mirror, fumbling with her small collection of makeup. Grace came up behind her, peering over her shoulder. 

“Try this one,” she pointed to a little bottle. “Rub it in gently under your eyes.”

Lucy followed her instructions, letting Grace tilt her chin up to examine the results. The blonde nodded. “Good.”

Hiking her dress up, she began to slide an array of knives into the garter sheath at her thigh. Holding the last knife in her hand, she twirled it mindlessly between her fingers, examining the sharp edge. Without even thinking, she gripped the handle tightly and brought the blade to rest against the pale, freckled skin of her inner left wrist. She bit her lip. One little slice was all it would take. 

“You really want to join me that badly?” Grace’s voice startled her out of her trance. The blade pulled away from the skin to slide into the sheath with its sisters. “Not that I’d complain. But I think Tommy would be very upset with both of us.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, checking to make sure her gun was loaded and putting it in her bag.

“Lucy,” Grace’s voice was stern. “What is it?”

She ran her hand over her hair, then cursed quietly and did her best to rearrange it back into place. She should be happy. Her plan had succeeded, after all. Things between Lizzie and Tommy had seemed to have mostly smoothed over. Tommy…seemed happier. That was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? And yet it hurt, to now know that all that was needed was her absence to have made that possible. 

Maybe she really had become nothing more than a burden. Someone Tommy kept around out of pity and duty. Perhaps he’d gotten bored with her. He had practically begged her not to go when she had left Arrow House, but maybe over the time that she had been gone, he’d come to the realization that she was right. Things were better this way. Perhaps he was secretly relieved that she had left.

“You’re being silly,” Grace said. “Tommy loves you.”

Did he? Or was it all just a ploy to keep her close because she was useful? Or maybe he never really had. Maybe she’d been nothing but convenient, up until now. A warm place to shove his cock when he was bored. 

“I’m not so sure anymore, Grace.”

“Oh, love,” Grace drifted across the room to her, hands cradling hers. “Remember when you left? He was distraught. He begged you not to go,” she offered Lucy a small smile in an attempt at reassurance. “Who would’ve thought, hm? Thomas Shelby, begging,” she shook her head, blonde waves flying, hand cradling Lucy’s cheek. “Okay?”

Lucy let out a shaky breath and nodded. Grace’s cheek dimpled with her smile. “No crying, now, love. You’ll ruin your makeup.”

Lucy let out a hiccupping little laugh and nodded. “‘Kay.”

Grace let her go so she could riffle through her jewelry box, putting on her earrings and rings. Her fingers hesitated over the large garnet necklace resting in the middle of the box, the one Tommy had gotten her to match Grace’s sapphire. Her brows furrowed, lips pressed together. Perhaps it would be too much to show up with a token of Tommy’s love hanging from her throat. And to Lizzie’s birthday party, no less. She let the lid of the jewelry box fall closed.

“Tommy will notice you’re not wearing it.”

“Maybe.”

Grace sighed, but apparently decided that it wasn’t worth it to argue with her. The sound of tires outside announced Polly's arrival, and she was quick to wrap her shawl around her shoulders and grab her bag. The jingle of the lead had Asher rising to his feet, tail wagging as she clipped it to his collar.

“C’mon, boy,” she said, pausing a moment at the door and turning to Grace. “You’ll be around, if I need you?”

Grace smiled. “Always am, love.”

Her heels clicked against the stairs, a quick wave offered to Charlie and Curly in the kitchen before she was making her way to Polly’s car.

“You’re bringing the dog?” Polly questioned, eyebrow raised.

“Mosley’s going to be there, I figured we could use all the backup we can get,” she explained, ushering Asher into the backseat before getting into the front beside Polly. “And Tommy said that the kids were asking about him. Figured they’d like having him visit.”

They pulled out onto the street, beginning the familiar route to Arrow House.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“It’s no problem,” Polly said. “Though I have to say, I was surprised to hear about this sudden change in living arrangements.”

“I’m sure that you were popping champagne when you heard the news.”

“Now why would I do that?”

She gave her a look. “Polly.”

“Just because you’re not my favorite person in the world doesn’t mean that I can’t acknowledge your usefulness to Tommy and the company.”

“I’m touched.” 

Polly glanced over at her. “And you make Tommy at least somewhat bearable to be around.”   

That pulled a tiny laugh out of her, shaking her head. Polly reached out a gloved hand, patting Lucy’s arm. 

“Maybe it’ll be good for you,” she offered, “to not be chained to him all hours of the day.”

Lucy’s knee bounced anxiously as she shook her head. “I’ve never fully understood any of you. The way you talk sometimes. About getting away, about being chained. I’ve never wanted to get away.”

“I think you might be the only one of us who’s never really tried to leave.” 

“I’ve never wanted to.”

Polly hummed, tilting her head to the side. “You’ve really never thought about it? Not even once? To go off, have a normal life?”

She shook her head. “What do I do, if I don’t do this?”

Polly tsked. “You and Tommy. Unable to pull away even for a simple holiday. You really are perfect for one another.” Lucy didn’t respond, just looked down at her hands, tugging her shawl tighter around herself. “How’s he been taking it?”

Lucy shrugged. “He seems fine.”

“Really? I heard from Ada that he showed up at her doorstep at two in the morning in the middle of an emotional meltdown.”

“He feels bad about the whole thing. But…” she shrugged. “He seems happy. From what I’ve seen.”

Polly shot her a funny look that she chose to ignore. 

“You’re angry with him.”

“What? No I’m not.”

Polly gave her a knowing look. Lucy ran a hand over her hair and cursed.

“I gotta stop fucking doing that,” she muttered, smoothing her hair back down.

“Your hair looks fine. Spill.”

“I’m not…angry with Tommy, Polly.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

She shook her head. Took a small pause. “I…I just couldn’t stand to be somewhere where I felt so…” she struggled to find the right word. “Unwanted,” she finally finished.

“How do you mean?”

“They made this…deal that has a direct effect on me and Tommy’s relationship and they…” she chewed on her bottom lip. “They didn’t even give me a fucking heads up about it. And Tommy agreed to it,” she shrugged. “He had to know what it would mean for us and he agreed to it anyway.”

“He didn’t fight for you.” 

Lucy shook her head.

“No, no. That’s not it,” she ran a hand over her hair again and shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe it is. We’ve been so busy lately. Sometimes I feel more like just a coworker than a lover.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

“He has enough that he’s dealing with right now. When this current business is done, we can worry about…whatever this all is.”

“You’re very good at that.”

“At what?”

“Pushing your feelings down to deal with the task at hand. It’s part of what makes you so good at what you do.” Polly cast her that motherly look of disapproval that she often saw her giving her nephews. “But even you can’t keep your emotions locked up forever, Lucy. They have to come out and be dealt with at some point.”

“I know.” She glanced back over at Polly. “Sorry. I don’t mean for any of you to be pulled into the middle of this.”

“It’s alright. I’d much rather deal with you and Tommy’s mess than Arthur and Linda’s.”

“Right. Talk about a fucking disaster.” 

Polly hummed in agreement.

They rode in relative silence after that, car bumping along the road. As soon as Arrow House came into view a small shudder went through Lucy.

“Fuck.”

Polly shot a glance at her. “Have you been back since you left?”

“No.”

The older woman made a sympathetic sound, patting her on the arm again. “Well, look alive. We’ve got a fascist to impress.”

“Ugh,” she made a gagging sound that made Polly snicker. “He makes my skin crawl.”

Polly parked the car and opened her door. “Come along.”

She leapt from her seat, opening the door to the back. “Come, Ash. Good boy,” she coaxed the dog from where he had been laying with his huge head on his paws. He jumped down to trot dutifully by her side, his lead clutched tight in her hand. Polly came around the other side of the car, giving Asher a few scratches behind the ear before linking her arm with Lucy’s. 

“Ready to face the music?”

She eyed a few ballerinas making their way towards the tent set up on the grass. “I can’t tell if you're being literal or not.”

Polly chuckled, tugging her along towards the entrance of the place that had once been her home. 

∗ ∗ ∗

The party was in full swing and Tommy and Lizzie were nowhere to be found. Guests were arriving, chattering, sipping on drinks, and nibbling on food. Lucy remained close to Polly, not in much mood to socialize and grateful for the Shelby matriarch’s willingness to take point on greeting and conversing with the guests. 

For a brief moment she caught sight of Michael and Gina, raising her glass towards them in greeting, earning a small nod of acknowledgment from Michael. Gina sneered. Fucking kid.

She tugged on Polly’s skirt to get her attention. “By the way,” she cleared her throat, keeping her voice to a low murmur. “Mosley fucked Lizzie.”

“What!?”

“Mhm. Told Tommy allllllll about it at a meeting they had to discuss Mosley’s invitation here. Apparently it was while she was a nightclub hostess. Years ago. Thought you should know. It might come up.”

“Jesus, alright,” Polly said. “You find out anything else useful about him in your research?”

“Just that he’s fucking most of his wife’s family.”

“Charming.”

“Yep,” she popped the p in the word for emphasis. Taking a sip from her glass, her eyes trained on the door where the guests were filtering in. She elbowed Polly. “That’s him. With the mustache.”

“He looks displeased.” “I don’t understand how he gets so many girls. He’s so…” she searched desperately for the right word, “slimy. And his mustache looks stupid.”

Polly laughed, choking on her drink as a result. The MP was looking around, scowling.  

“You should go greet him before he has an aneurysm,” Lucy suggested. Polly disappeared with a smirk, heading for Mosley. Sipping again from her glass, Lucy rose up onto her toes, eyes scanning the crowd for Tommy. She had left Asher with Frances, and she was suddenly greatly missing the comfort and security that having the dog by her side brought now that Mosley was here.

Moving briskly, she began to weave her way through the guests. She hadn’t cared to go interrupt Tommy and Lizzie where they were likely fucking in one of the many dark corners of the house, but now that Mosley had arrived and was already sulking at Tommy’s absence, she needed to find him soon or risk the MP’s wrath. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in a room with Mosley. 

“Miss. Winters!”

She froze, grinding her teeth. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered under her breath, plastering a smile on her face and turning around. “Mr. Mosley. So glad to see you.”

His eyes raked over her and she had to fight the desire to tug her red shawl tighter around herself. “You look lovely, as ever.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, could you please tell me, where is Thomas?”

“I believe he was dealing with the caterers. Something about some last minute problems, you know how these things can go.”

“I was hoping to be announced upon my arrival.”

“Apologies. If you’d like, I can take you to the study. Mr. Shelby had something he wanted to discuss with you privately. Before the performance, if possible.”

Mosley’s expression of displeasure remained. “Very well.”

“This way,” she inclined with her head, leading the way to Tommy’s office. She opened the door with her key and stepped aside to let Mosley in. “Is there anything I can get you?”

His eyes raked over her again. A hand suddenly shot out, tightly grasping a red curl that had fallen from her pins to rest against her cheek, stroking the lock and then tugging on it sharply. “Oh, I can think of many things, Miss. Winters.”

She had to resist the urge to lean over and vomit all over his expensive shoes.

“I’m afraid that I’m working tonight, Mr. Mosley.”

“Hm.” His hand slipped down, moving so quickly that she had no chance of stopping it. His cold fingers slid down her throat, around her shoulder, and promptly grasped her right breast, squeezing so hard that it hurt.

Lucy completely froze, heart leaping into her throat, too shocked at the sudden movement to do anything. 

Mosley grinned, eyes alight with sadistic glee. Just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, he let her go, smile remaining firmly in place. “Well, if you’re sure. Just Thomas, then, my dear. Quick as possible.”

She nodded, spun on her heel, and left the room, closing the door behind her. For a moment, she allowed her back to rest against the wood of the door, a sudden spasm of panic flooding her from head to toe. She took in deep, heaving breaths, thinking for a moment that she might actually vomit. Learning forward, she rested her hands on her thighs, forcing herself to breathe deeply, thankful that this hallway was hidden from the view of the guests in the dining and sitting rooms. Memories flashed behind her eyes, of hands on her in a dark alleyway, voices laughing and jeering as they pushed her down, a blade slicing through her skin, hands pulling at her hair. 

Lucy shook her head sharply to dislodge them. Instead, she tried to force her brain to focus on the feel of the wood against her back. The color of the rug beneath her feet. The sound of clinking glasses and muffled voices a few rooms over.

Her heartbeat was still more rapid than usual, hands trembling a little bit. Fuck. She hadn’t had an attack like that in a long time.  

On still somewhat unsteady legs, she began to make her way down the hall, going through her mental checklist of all the places Tommy and Lizzie could be. 

As if hearing her thoughts, she made out voices coming from a storage closet in the hall. Freezing, she hesitated, recognizing the familiar deep rumble of Tommy’s voice. Her fist raised to knock, but stopped. And even though she knew it was wrong, the fist uncurled, planting itself on the doorframe as she leaned closer to press her ear to the place where the door met the frame, listening. 

“--so that’s why you brought me in here. To lay your claim,” Lizzie was saying. 

“Yeah.” She could imagine the fond way Tommy probably smiled at her, eyebrow raising in a way that was both sheepish and cocky. 

“Well, it’s a start, I suppose.”

There was the rustle of movement. “He lays a fucking hand on you, he will be meat for Johnny Dogs.”

He need not specify who he was talking about. She already knew.

With a shudder, Lucy pulled back, unable to bear listening to anymore.

It was not that he was dedicated to protecting Lizzie that so wounded her. It was that, while he was fucking her and pledging his protection over her, Lucy was out here. The very man that Tommy had just promised to defend Lizzie from having just touched and spoken to her in a way that had triggered her to have a panic attack. 

She wasn’t even worth Tommy laying a fucking claim on, anymore.  

What would Tommy do, if he found out how Mosley had just touched her?

She already knew. The same thing he’d done when McCavern had leered at her: fucking nothing. 

He probably wouldn’t even care. It was clear he didn’t want her anymore, anyway. 

She took another step back from the door, intending to leave them be rather than ruin their happiness with her presence, when the door opened, and the pair stepped out hand in hand. Lizzie was smiling brightly while Tommy’s own lips were twitched upwards. When they saw her, they both froze, looking at her like two deer caught in headlights.

“Lucy,” Tommy said, smile falling and brow furrowing as he looked at her. For a moment, his eyes dropped to the middle of her chest, right below her collarbone, brows pinching together. She cleared her throat.

“You need to go to your office. Mosley’s there.”

“Are you alright?” Lizzie asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Hi, Lizzie. Happy birthday.” She hoped that her smile was convincing and not as shaky as it felt. From the way concern flickered in Lizzie’s eyes, she didn’t think that she succeeded. Tommy reached out a hand to her, and she flinched violently away from him. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” she gasped, breathing momentarily kicking back up a few notches. The idea of anyone’s hands on her right now made her feel faint with panic. A flicker of hurt and confusion passed across his face. 

“What happened?” his voice dropped an octave, ice blue eyes narrowing a fraction. 

Lucy squeezed her eyes shut, gripping her shawl tighter around her like a lifeline. “Nothing.” She opened her eyes. Tommy was still staring at her, searching her face for clues as to what she wasn’t telling him. “Just. Please. Go now. He’s throwing a fucking hissy fit over you not being there to greet him when he arrived.”

Tommy’s expression turned guilty. He hesitated only a moment more, looking her up and down as if checking for injuries, and then turned to Lizzie. “This’ll take just a minute,” he told her, and headed down the hallway. Lucy sighed out a breath as he opened and closed the door to his office. There. Disaster averted. Hopefully.  

“Lucy, are you alright?” Lizzie repeated.

“I’m fine. Go enjoy your party,” she nodded in the direction of the dining room. Lizzie frowned. “Please.”

The taller woman looked unconvinced, but headed down the hall. Finally alone, Lucy slumped against the wall. Her breathing was mostly back to normal, though the attack itself had unnerved her. She had dealt with Mosley on her own before, and yet she’d never had such a blatant, panicked reaction to his advances. Granted, he had never outright grabbed her like that before, but still…

 It had to be the combination of tiredness and stress, she decided. And the fact that Mosley at times reminded her unnervingly of Matthew. Or maybe it was the emotional turmoil of being back inside this house. 

She drew in a deep breath, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, drawing the smoke greedily into her lungs. It helped to stabilize her. If only a little. 

Finally feeling a bit more like herself, she began to head back towards the dining room. 

Lizzie was easy to spot, tall and gorgeous where she was standing next to Polly. Lucy paused in the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the wall, hands fiddling with her rings while she watched her. She was near fucking ethereal in her ornately detailed gown, her dark hair styled in stiff waves around her chin, features impeccable. 

No wonder Tommy had chosen her over Lucy. Where Lizzie was tall and slim and striking, Lucy was short, curvy, and plain, with skin almost as freckled as it was scarred. And of course there was her flaming red hair–she’d always had a sneaking suspicion that Tommy preferred brunettes–her eyes that were too big to be in proportion with the rest of her face, and her scars. Any man would find her repulsive in comparison to Lizzie.  

“Yes, that’s why he’s always been so enthusiastic to get you naked: because he finds you repulsive,” Grace’s voice spoke up, dripping with sarcasm. Lucy turned her head towards where the voice came from. Grace was leaning against the opposite wall, looking at her with a deeply unimpressed expression on her face. 

Lucy ripped her gaze away from the ghost, ducking her head down and pushing past a few guests to make her way over to Polly and Lizzie. Polly was shaking her head.

“Lizzie, if we were to strike from our guest lists every man in Birmingham who you-”

“Fuck,” Lizzie muttered, eyes focused on where Tommy and Mosley had just appeared in the doorway. The sight of Mosley made Lucy shrink back behind the other two women. Polly raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to Lizzie. 

“Yes or no?”

“Fucking yes,” Lizzie grumbled, turning to set her drink down. Both she and Polly muttered “shit” quietly under their breath as the men approached them. 

The introductions were awkward, to say the least. Especially since Mosley insisted on smugly bringing his past with Lizzie up. But Lizzie, to Lucy’s surprise, actually managed to swipe back at him. Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a coin. 

“For the champagne and brandy you bought me, as I recall it was the booze that put you to sleep a little prematurely,” she tossed the coin into Mosley’s glass. Lucy’s chest spasmed, forcing herself to cough to cover up what would have likely been an inappropriately loud cackle. Polly patted her on the back, no doubt trying to sell the image that she was just choking on her drink rather than being near incapacitated with hysterical laughter. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” a man from the ballet company called. “The dance is about to begin.”  

Mosley looked a little shell-shocked, staring down at the coin now resting in his drink before turning and silently walking away. Like a dog with its tail between its legs. 

“Mr. Mosley!” Tommy called out, “a toast, if I may. To the end of our deal, and the beginning of something more,” he raised his glass and turned. “Happy birthday, Lizzie,” he shot her an approving wink and clinked her glass with his. Facing Mosley again, he held a hand out as he guided the man away from them. “This way.” 

Lucy rested her hands on Lizzie's shoulders from behind, stretching up on her toes to whisper into the woman’s ear. “I love you,” she told her. Lizzie shot a somewhat bashful yet proud grin over her shoulder at her. She let Polly and Lizzie drift ahead of her in the crowd, walking on her own outside to where the tent had been set up with the stage for the performance.    

By the time she got to the tent, a good share of the guests had already been seated. Tommy and Lizzie were sitting in the front row. But he had an arm subtly draped around the empty chair next to him on his right, keeping anyone from taking it. She was painfully aware of him trying to catch her eye but ignored him, aware that she was being childish but not able to muster up enough energy to care.

Instead she walked right past him, Lizzie, and the seat that he’d been apparently saving for her. Making her way around the rows of chairs, she found a spot that was about as far as she could sit from them as possible, tucked way in the back. Sitting down, she pulled her shawl as tight around herself as she could, suddenly wishing that she’d worn a warmer dress than the simple black gown she’d chosen. 

When she finally chanced a glance over at Tommy and Lizzie, it was to find Tommy staring at her as if she’d just turned around and shot his dog. His blue eyes were wide with hurt, jaw tensing as though he were trying to restrain anymore emotion from leaking onto his features. Lizzie looked stunned, her brows creased together and lips pouting slightly. 

Lucy only met their gaze for half a second before she had to look away. 

The rest of the guests quickly filled in the rest of the seats around her. The people who sat near her were complete strangers, but she’d take that over having to sit by Mosley or Gina.

Ballet had never really been of much interest to Lucy, but even she had to admit that the performance was quite lovely. But it simply could not hold her attention, try as she might to focus on it. Her gaze kept sweeping over the audience.  

She saw Lizzie take Tommy’s hand, gazing at him with happy, hopeful eyes. He didn’t remove his gaze from the ballerinas to look at her, but he didn’t pull his hand away either.

Husband and wife. Happy together at last. Lucy looked down at her hands, clasping them together tightly. Until her knuckles turned white. Tears had to be blinked hastily from her eyes at the realization that no one would probably ever hold her hand again. And especially not like that. 

Towards the end of the show, she spotted Polly stealing away with Aberama, ducking under a string of lights and vanishing into the dark.

Gaze scanning over the crowd, she rolled her eyes at the sight of Arthur slumped over, asleep. Tommy and Lizzie were still holding hands. Michael looked bored. Beside him, Gina’s eyes darted away from the stage, glancing over at Mosley, who had been rather blatantly staring at her. He looked away quickly at their eyes meeting, but Gina’s gaze lingered on him a bit too long to be just simple curiosity. Interesting.

Lucy made mental note of the odd interaction. That would be a thread to pull on later. To see if there was anything of value or intrigue attached to it. 

Something tugged at her mind to do another sweep of the crowd, and when she did, it was to find Tommy staring at her.

The expression on his face was imploring. Desperate and worried. She thought that she might’ve seen longing there, too, but told herself that it was just wishful thinking. 

She wanted to tell him that it was alright. He didn’t need to feel guilty. He didn’t owe her anything. And he should not feel obligated to continue to be with her out of some misguided sense of duty. She understood. Things change. People change. Feelings change. It wasn’t his fault. 

She had always had a sneaking suspicion that this would happen eventually. It was her own bloody fault for not more properly preparing herself for it. 

Tommy seemed to be trying to tell her something with his eyes. Like they used to be able to do all the time. Their little mind reading trick. But she couldn’t read him anymore. When she looked into his blue orbs, she could not make out any words. 

Somehow, without either of them realizing it, the bond between them had broken. Lucy wondered if it could even be repaired at this point.

Not that there was much point in ruminating over that. He was happy with his wife. Why would he want to waste time and energy trying to fix anything between them when he had Lizzie? 

A flash of car lights in the distance, on the front drive, caught her attention. Odd. She couldn’t think of anyone who had been on the guest list that hadn’t arrived. In the corner of her eye, Tommy shifted, having spotted the car lights as well. He leaned forward, looking down the front row at Arthur. When he caught sight of his brother asleep, his shoulders heaved in a sigh, features turning exasperated. 

His eyes returned to Lucy’s. She could see the silent scream echoing behind them. She gave him a sympathetic look. Had she been sitting closer to Arthur, she would have been able to kick him awake. 

She kept an eye on the approaching car while Tommy leaned back in his seat to catch Michael’s eye. He was the closest of any of them to Arthur’s seat. Tommy gave a small jerk of his head in a silent order, spurring Michael to reach in front of him to nudge Arthur until he woke. Lucy watched as the two Shelby brothers shared a glance of silent communication before Arthur stood, discreetly shuffling away towards the front drive to deal with the approaching car. She kept one eye trained on Arthur’s disappearing figure, another on the ballerina spinning on the stage.

The car had stopped but the lights were still on. A person exited and moved to stand in front of it. Lucy leaned forward, eyes narrowed, trying to make out who it was. A flash of pale blonde hair caught the light. Shit. It looked like Linda.

She stood abruptly, walking behind the rows of guests, moving briskly after Arthur. If anyone had reason to crash the party and ruin everyone's evening, it was Linda. The woman was likely justifiably furious over what Arthur had done to her friend, but the last thing they needed was an altercation between Linda and Arthur with all of these people around. 

She shot a quick glance over her shoulder at the tent. It didn’t seem like any of the guests had taken notice yet, too enthralled by the performance in front of them. Except for Tommy, who had stood from his seat and was following after her. Lizzie was watching them, expression curious. Lucy looked away, quickening her pace towards Arthur and Linda. 

Linda moved suddenly and…was that a gun!? Lucy broke into a run that was more of a jog. Fucking heels. She should have just worn her oxfords, even if they didn’t match her dress. She almost made it to Arthur, who despite having a gun aimed at him hadn’t moved, when a gunshot rang out, loud enough to hurt her ears. There were footsteps behind her, Tommy and Lizzie skidding to a halt beside her. For a moment, everyone was still.

Then Linda crumpled over onto her side with a soft thud.

“Arthur,” Tommy gasped. His older brother spun around, shocked eyes scanning over each of them. His hands were empty. It wasn’t him who’d shot Linda. Lucy looked at Tommy. No gun on him, nor on Lizzie. 

And behind them, her weapon still raised, face pressed into a stern, protective expression, not unlike a lioness protecting her cubs, stood Polly.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[lavenlady]

Can i request Orion pax (TFO) meeting a human who is extremely fluid in their language but is also a troll?

Here you are! Enjoy Anon!

✩ Easy! ✩ | Tfone Orion Pax x Troll!Human!Reader

☉ You don't really know what happened that got you there. You were in some kind of alien library and being a curious person you decide to explore

☉ You find a lot of cards, thanks to your observations you knew that you had to insert them into the table in the middle of the library

☉ It was quite hard for you to do so, but you managed. Your joy quickly disappeared as you realised that it is an alien library, with alien literature in alien language. With how much time you had for yourself, you decided to learn it

☉ After you were satisfied, you observed the local lifeforms - Cybertronians

☉ That is how you found out they didn't know anything about your species, that gave you room to say anything about humans, without anyone knowing it was total bullshit

☉ Orion Pax choose to visit the archives again, trying to find anything about the Matrix of Leadership, instead he found you

☉ You sizing the opportunity started to tell a lot of scrap about humans, it was beautiful when his face-plate shifted to form a grimace after hearing your words

☉ He was quite shocked that you somehow learned their language, you were quite fluent in it

☉ He decided to visit you from time to time, bringing you things that would bring you joy - at least according to your words about your species

☉ After the whole Sentinel fiasco he finds you again and introduces to his fellow Autobots, telling them about your planet

☉ You will never forget the type of faces they made, listening to Optimus rambling about your species, quite intrigued at the new information, but at the same time horrified

☉ You like to mess with them, feeding their processors with irrelevant things, finding it hilarious

" Ratchet, did you know that humans' claws and carbon helms still grow after death? "

" Primus! Why would you tell me that?! I didn't want to know that! "

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

( Hope you liked it! Anyway - Yes, our nails and hair do not in fact grow after death. )

(Master list)

( Request away! )

[novascharms]

MY STRANGE ADDICTION - RAFE CAMERON

dealer! rafe cameron x maddy perez

Maddy Perez has never been addicted to drugs—nor will she ever be. Her only addiction is the campus dealer she just can't seem to shake off and no matter how hard she tries to break free, she keeps getting pulled back into his orbit.

masterlist w.c — 4.0 c.w — smut, p in v a.n — choosing to continue this cause i got two free weeks and like lots of ideas abt these two for someee reason. lets ignore that rafe would actually off himself if he had to deal with maddy hihi :)

maddy goes to a party with nate and guess who's there? our very own campus dealer

Maddy’s gaze was fixed on Nate, though her attention was split in too many directions to keep track of. SZA’s smooth voice floated through the speakers, the music blending with the background chatter of the party. Nate was talking—something about football or his job—but his words felt like static. Her mind wandered, her eyes constantly flicking around, scanning the crowd. She hated how automatic it was, this ridiculous, involuntary search her brain always seemed to conduct.

She forced herself to focus, blinking hard as if to clear the fog clouding her thoughts. Nate’s voice filtered back in. “—think I’ll be moving up in ranks pretty soon,” he finished, his tone proud.

Maddy nodded, plastering on a polite smile, though she had no idea what “ranks” he was even referring to. “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Sounds like things are going well.”

Her tone was effortless, practiced, and Nate seemed satisfied with her response. He leaned in, adjusting the strap of her slightly crumpled bikini top with the kind of familiarity she used to find endearing. Once, his boldness might have been attractive, thrilling even. Now, it was just…irritating. Her instincts told her to pull back, but she stopped herself. She’d come here with him, after all. His “date.”

“Are the others here yet?” Nate asked, scanning the crowd.

The answer hovered on her tongue, ready to be spoken, but she faltered. That chill along her spine was unmistakable, a sensation that set her on edge in an entirely different way. She didn’t have to look to know. It was him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the blurred outlines of people entering the party. She couldn’t make out faces, only the edges of dark clothing and purposeful movements. Her body recognized him before her brain did.

Her gaze darted briefly to her outfit—a black bikini paired with an oversized white button-up for a pretense of modesty. She let out a shaky breath, willing herself to refocus. “They’re on their way,” she said lightly. “They wanted to pregame.”

Nate raised a brow, his expression curious. “Since when do you skip out on pregaming?”

Her pulse quickened, not from Nate’s question but from the pull she felt across the space between her and him. The boy who made her feel utterly insane. The one she wanted to shove down a flight of stairs whenever caught him with someone else.

“I don’t like drinking when I don’t know the host,” she said, her tone even. It wasn’t entirely untrue, though it wasn’t the real reason either.

Nate gave her a reassuring smile, leaning closer. “I’m here. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

She forced another smile. “I know. But still…better safe than sorry.” She tilted her cup slightly, letting the drink spill silently into the grass behind her before handing it to him. “Could you get me a refill?”

He nodded, his smile warm and easy, before disappearing toward the drink table.

The moment he was gone, Maddy turned on her pool chair, angling herself to face the water. A few people were swimming, but most lingered on the edges, laughing and chatting in tight groups.

Her phone buzzed against her leg, the vibration pulling her attention. Leaning back, she reached for it and opened the message.

Her eyes scanned the words briefly before instinctively looking up, searching for him. He had to be watching. He always was.

It didn’t take long to find him. He sat directly across from her on the far side of the pool, surrounded by his friends. And, as if drawn by some invisible force, his eyes were already on her.

That electric jolt hit her again, the same one it always did when their gazes locked. It was sharp, unmistakable, and it made her feel more alive than she cared to admit.

Not wanting to stare like an idiot, Maddy dropped her gaze back to her phone and began typing her reply.

Across the pool, he watched her with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He found this amusing, he'd always liked it when she was being bitchy. At least she was responding now—it was better than the stony silence she’d given him for weeks.

And that was true. She probably wouldn't fuck Nate. That was kinda gross.

“Here’s your refill. Sorry that took a minute,” Nate said as he sat down near her feet, holding out a plastic cup filled with something bright red.

Maddy clicked off her phone, tucking it between her thighs before reaching for the drink. “That’s okay, thank you.” She took a small sip, letting the artificial sweetness settle on her tongue.

For the first time all evening, Nate was quiet. Too quiet. Maddy glanced over, her brows knitting together when she noticed he wasn’t even looking at her. His gaze was fixed somewhere else.

“What?” she asked, her tone laced with impatience.

Nate didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave a subtle nod toward something—or someone—in the distance. “He’s coming over here.”

Maddy didn’t need clarification. She already knew.

“He looks pissed,” Nate added, shifting uncomfortably.

Maddy narrowed her eyes, leaning back in her chair like she had all the time in the world. “He is,” she said casually, taking another sip of her drink. “I told him you called him a dog.”

Nate’s eyes went wide with panic. “What? Why would you do that?”

She smirked, savoring his reaction for just a moment too long. “I’m joking. Jesus, relax. He’s not a murderer.” She wasn’t entirely sure about that last part.

Before Nate could say anything else, Rafe’s looming presence was suddenly upon them. His large hands landed on Nate’s shoulders with enough force to make Nate flinch.

“Jacobs,” Rafe said, his voice low and heavy with unspoken authority.

Maddy rolled her eyes, leaning back further into the pool chair, feigning indifference as though she could actually ignore the scene unfolding in front of her.

Rafe didn’t say another word. He simply nodded his head to the side, a silent command for Nate to leave.

Nate didn’t even hesitate. He was gone in seconds, a move so predictable it almost made her laugh.

“You could’ve picked someone who made it feel a little like a competition,” Rafe said, lowering himself into the spot Nate had vacated.

Maddy let out a mock-hurt hum. “Your homeboys weren’t free, but I’ll definitely keep them in mind for next time.”

Rafe tilted his head, eyes narrowing at her before he chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

He shifted closer, his tone taking on a serious edge. “Are you done, though? Can we put an end to this, or do you want to keep stretching it out?”

Maddy tilted her head, playing dumb. “Clarify,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “I’m going to ask you the same thing I asked you a month ago, yeah?” He leaned forward, his gaze pinning her in place. “What do you want? Because I’ve apologized—every damn day for the past three weeks—and I’ve spoiled you rotten. Even though you can’t even answer the fucking phone when I call.”

He leaned back, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of exasperation. “So what is it? You want me to get on my knees?”

The corner of Maddy’s mouth twitched, and she could feel the playful glint in her eyes betraying her. The idea didn’t sound bad at all.

Rafe caught her expression immediately and shook his head. “Don’t do the most, Maddy.”

She straightened up, sitting forward so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you a month ago, yeah?” she echoed back at him, mimicking his tone.

He waited, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

“I don’t want shit from you,” she said with a shrug, her voice light. “The gifts have been nice, though.”

She reached out and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger, the move so childish it bordered on petty. Then, without another word, she stood up and walked away.

Rafe stayed seated, watching her disappear into the crowd, his jaw tight with frustration. Maddy didn’t bother looking back. She had ten minutes to find Nate before her friends showed up—and she wasn’t about to waste them.

“Nate, let’s dance,” Maddy said, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from his friends. He hesitated for only a second, his gaze darting to the group he’d just left.

“I don’t want to get in the middle of shit, you know that,” he muttered, his voice low and uncertain.

Maddy sighed, rolling her eyes in visible irritation. “There isn’t shit to get in the middle of. Don’t worry about him.” Her tone was firm, dismissive, as if the mere mention of Rafe was beneath her.

Nate didn’t look entirely convinced, but when Maddy began to sway her hips to the pulsing beat of the music, his resistance faltered. Almost instinctively, his hands found her waist, his touch tentative at first but growing bolder as she moved against him.

The crowd around them thickened, bodies pressing together as the bass of the music thumped louder, rattling the walls. The heat in the room was almost stifling, a mix of sweat and cologne hanging heavy in the air. She pulled Nate closer, leaning up to brush her lips along the shell of his ear in a way that made him shiver.

Her eyes, however, were elsewhere.

Through the chaotic swirl of bodies, her gaze found him. Rafe sat with his friends, a pretty brunette perched on his lap, laughing at something he’d said. A joint dangled lazily between his fingers, though he seemed utterly uninterested in the girl giggling in his ear or the conversation happening around him.

His attention was fixed entirely on Maddy.

She felt the sharp thrill of his gaze, like electricity crackling along her skin. The corner of her mouth twitched upward in the faintest smirk.

Nate was speaking—something about how hot she looked, maybe—but Maddy barely registered his words. Instead, she cut him off mid-sentence, tugging him down to crash her lips against his.

Nate responded eagerly, his arms wrapping tighter around her as if he couldn’t get enough. He wasn’t the most compelling person she’d ever been with—far from it, actually. Everything about him was a stark contrast to Rafe: where Rafe was sharp and commanding, Nate was soft and accommodating. But he served his purpose.

Maddy let her hands trail up his chest, pulling him deeper into the moment. His hands slid lower, grazing her hips before resting on her ass. She let out a soft moan when he gave her a light squeeze, tilting her head just enough to draw him further in.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were slick and swollen, her breath mingling with his. Nate’s lips chased hers instantly, desperate and clumsy in his eagerness.

She giggled softly, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “Let’s go upstairs,” she murmured, her voice dripping with suggestion.

Nate didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing her hand, he began weaving through the sea of bodies, his grip firm as he led her toward the stairs.

Nate had her pinned against the wall before they even made it to a room. His hands roamed her waist, gripping like he was afraid to lose his chance. The hallway was dimly lit, the muffled bass from downstairs vibrating through the walls. Maddy’s breath hitched—not from excitement, but from the sharp pang of regret she was trying to suppress.

It was a blur. One moment, Nate was in front of her, his lips brushing her neck. The next, he was ripped away with a force that made her stumble. Her eyes flew open, her back still pressed to the cool plaster, and there was Rafe.

He stood between her and Nate, broad-shouldered and seething, his jaw tight and his chest heaving. Nate, caught off guard, staggered before regaining his footing.

“You—” Rafe began, his voice low and dangerous, but he paused as Nate straightened and, to Maddy’s surprise, stepped forward with a spark of defiance.

“Don’t get any ideas, Jacobs,” Rafe warned, his tone dripping with disdain. His sharp blue eyes cut into Nate, daring him to react.

When he didn't leave, Rafe turned to Nate in surprise. "You need something?"

Nate didn’t flinch. His gaze flicked between Rafe and Maddy before he squared his shoulders. “If you don’t feel safe with him,” he said, his voice steady but charged, “I’m not leaving.”

Maddy didn’t need to look at Rafe to know that Nate had just lit the match.

“Do you want me to—” Rafe’s voice exploded, his body lurching forward like a coiled spring released. Maddy moved faster, her hand shooting out to grab his arm, halting him before he could make contact.

“Nate, go!” she barked, her voice slicing through the tension like a whip.

For a moment, Nate hesitated. His concern for her was evident, but so was his understanding of the situation. One second longer, and he turned, retreating down the hallway.

As soon as he was gone, Maddy spun on Rafe, shoving him hard in the chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger.

Rafe barely moved under her shove, his stance unyielding, his lips curling into a smirk that was as infuriating as it was amused. “What’s wrong with me?” he shot back, his voice loud enough to echo. “Isn't this exactly why the fuck you do this dumb shit? Don't act like you have any interest in that poor boy.”

“The only poor boy is the one I'm looking at right now,” Maddy snapped, her voice rising to meet his. “I don't see what the fuck the issue is since last I checked, you were nice and cosied up with your little friend by the pool."

Rafe’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not the one who showed up with someone on my arm,” he retorted, his words sharp. “You think that shits funny, grinding your ass all over him like a slut?”

The slap came before she could stop herself. The sound was deafening in the narrow hallway, sharp and precise like the crack of a whip. Rafe’s head jerked slightly, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the sting in his eyes before he masked it with that infuriating nonchalance.

“Did I cross a line?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with mockery. His smirk returned, daring her to do it again.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Maddy spat, her voice trembling with fury. She stepped closer, invading his space and he nods slowly like he knows something she doesn't, "You say the same shit when your pussy is creaming on my dick."

Maddy didn't want to think about it, had been avoiding the image, the memory of sex with Rafe. But he'd brought it up now, rubbed it right in her face and she was faced with the undeniable truth that he was the best she'd ever had and he knew it. He was rubbing it in her face right now, he was always rubbing it in her face that no matter what he said and how he acted, she'd never say no.

Maddy’s mind betrayed her, conjuring memories she had buried deep. She could see it clearly now—the way he moved, the way he touched her, the way he made her lose herself entirely.

She must have let it show on her face because his smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Maddy grabs him by the back of his neck before he can say something even more stupid and crushes her lips to his in a kiss that is somewhere between angry and desperate.

Rafe's got her legs wrapped around him in a flash, hands firmly on her ass as he walks them into the first room he can blindly find. Maddy's lips are coaxed open by the slide of his tongue as he slams the door closed behind them and shoves her back against the wall. She huffs at the force of his shove, "Be fucking gentle."

"Stop talking so fucking much." He grunted, mouth moving from her lips to her neck and Maddy couldn't surpress the moan that forced her way past her lips. She felt Rafe's eager fingers on the thin strap of her bikini bottom, "Don't you fucking dare rip those," She knew him all too well and these bottoms were the only clothing she had on her.

"Why? You seem to love the attention you've been getting lately." Rafe murmurs as his hand slides down to unzip his pants swiftly. She's pleased when he doesn't completely ignore her polite request and pushes her bikini to the side. Maddy whimpers, nails digging into his shoulder and back when she feels him press against her aching folds.

"Is this what you wanted, baby? This what you needed?" he whispered in a mocking voice as his tip tentatively pushes inside of Maddy's seeping cunt and her legs involuntarily tighten around him. "Now you wanna shut up, huh?" Rafe groans as he pushes inside of her and Maddy feels the air escape her lungs.

"God," Maddy whined, head falling back against the door as his stupidly big cock nestled itself deep inside her and the pleasure and pain takes her breath away. For a moment, she's not sure if breathing is still an option until he starts steadily moving and as with everything, Rafe does—it's rough and she can barely contain the moans that tumble out of her mouth.

His grip on her thighs is bruising and with every harsh thrust, her back is slamming back onto that door but she can't even find it in her to care. Her eyes flutter for a moment and she tries to keep them on him, tries to keep her focus because she can't deny that he looks so fucking good right now—all focused with groans and grunts escaping his lips as he hammers into her walls.

But it doesn't last, it can't when he's being this rough, fucking her into the door and making it impossible for her to focus on anything but the way he was pounding into her. "Fuck, baby. It's been too long, too fucking long.." He groans through gritted teeth, "Think anyone can fuck you like this? Think Jacobs can fuck you like this?" And Maddy's pathetic moans filling the room do little to keep him from trying to pick a fight with her like usual.

"Shut t-the f—"

"This is my fucking pussy," Rafe continues and each words is followed by a harsh thrust that pressed Maddy against the door over and over and Maddy's hands are trembling, scrambling to hold onto him, to assure she doesn't lose her grip with how weak her legs are starting to feel. "Mine. You're all mine, Maddy."

"Fuck you. I h-hate you.." Maddy cries out, legs tightening around Rafe because she doesn't belong to him or anyone but also because his dick is splitting her open and she can't decide wether she wants him to stop or keep going.

"Yeah, I know. You hate me so much you letting me pound your cunt. That's how much you hate me, huh?" Rafe laughs, his hands holding her up like he can feel she's about give out completely. Maddy's brain feels like it's short circuiting as Rafe goes at a pace too brutal to keep up with.

A couple of nasty words sit at the tip of her tongue for Rafe but they won't come out, a sentence refuses to form in her mind. "F-Fuck..fuck!" Maddy can't—won't ever get past how mindblowingly good the sex was.

"Mm, y-you..you're.." Maddy starts mumbling despite how her eyes are rolling back and she's seeing spots in her vision, "You're j-just some half-decent sex," Maddy chokes out and Rafe cocks his head at that, amused smirk on his lips. "Half decent?" he breathes out as Maddy clenches around his fat cock.

Maddy's about to make it worse, seconds away from telling him Nate has fucked her ten times better when he brutally pounds into her, "Rafe!" she screams as he repeatedly hits that sweet spot and she knows it's retaliation for calling their sex decent. It only makes Maddy want to say something worse.

She's gone though, whatever curse words she's throwing at him are coming out in blubbers and moans and with the way he's pounding into her, Maddy's surprised the door is still holding. "Mm..mmm..y-you you..y.." Maddy rambles absentmindedly, her words lost between the moans that are escaping her lips as Rafe's thrust only get sloppier and faster.

"Can barely get through your sentences, baby. You sure the sex is only half-decent?" He teases and Maddy knows that somewhere deep inside, that comment irritates her but right now, with his cock hammering into her, there is absolutely nothing that she cares about apart from the pit she can feel in her stomach right now.

Maddy whines, high and soft because the exhaustion is starting to catch up to her. She needs to come. "God, you look so fucking good right now, can't believe I lasted a month.." Rafe almost growls as his hips stutter and his own orgasm draws closer and closer. "Need it..n-need you.." Maddy moans before she feels herself being pushed over the edge and her blissful orgasm spills out of her. Rafe has a couple more thrusts in him before he's following suit and with a deep low groan, he's creaming inside of her.

For a few seconds, there was only silence between them, accompanied by the sound of their heavy breathing. Rafe’s forehead pressed against hers, a rare moment of calm between them both. It was a rare occurence in their particular situation—an interlude between their constant fighting or fucking. This moment, existing somewhere in the space between, might have been the closest they ever came to being normal.

The muffled roar of cheers and music swelled from downstairs, snapping the quiet like a rubber band. Rafe eased her back to the ground, and Maddy stepped away, her legs shaky but her resolve intact. She caught her reflection in the mirror, her makeup slightly smudged, hair tousled. Sighing, she adjusted herself as best she could.

A towel landed unceremoniously on her head, startling her. She turned, glaring at Rafe, who stood there with a half-smirk like he’d done her a favor.

“You expect me to wipe with this?” she asked, holding the towel up with a grimace. “Where did you even find it?”

“Too good for a towel now?” he mumbled, shaking his head as he reached for something else. He handed her a clean napkin with a smile.

She snatched it from him without a word, cleaning herself quickly before tossing it into the small trash bin by the dresser. When she straightened, he was behind her, his arm slipping loosely around her neck, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured, “Wanna get out of here?”

She did. God, she did. But instead of saying so, she turned, her expression hardening. “You can’t act like that toward Nate again. Or anyone,” she said firmly, her tone daring him to argue.

Rafe’s eyes rolled, the dismissive motion igniting her frustration. “Go fuck Jacobs if you think he’s such a saint,” he shot back mockingly, leaning against the wall like he owned the place.

Maddy raised a brow, the edge of her lips curling into a challenging smirk. “I don’t want to fuck Nate. But I can fuck him if I want to. That’s what I’m trying to make clear to you.”

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with something dark and unreadable. “I don’t need you to make shit clear to me,” he bit out, his voice low and rough.

Her own temper flared, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

And just like that, the delicate peace shattered.

Here they went again.

masterlist

[psychebutterflysol]

𝟬𝟬. 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂

a/u: an expanded version of this drabble right here. i want to flesh the reader's background out a bit more, and their relationship with their 'spouse' too. remember that unreliable narrator is a very real thing thing.

warning: toxic relationship, implied dead and blood, stuff happens.

where did it begin?

all this ridiculous, unfair, and blindly foolish surferring.

eyes of ones you once regarded as mere characters you once enjoyed and loved, bore into your tattered form, puncturing into the fresh wound that dripped red.

'imposter!' they sang in their accusatory timbre, satisfied laughs and a saccharine cheerfulness you could taste on the tip of your tongue. As if there was an invisible force, your lips were sealed tights. eyes sore from nights of weeping, prayers falling deaf to anyone but the celestial. you had cried your heart out, to the point there was no tear left to pour. some words didn't make it into your ears, and as you were forced to kneel, humiliation overtook your heart, you glimpsed at her weeping form. your blood boiled at her audacity to cry, for all of these moments that led to this outcome caused by her. 

wasn't it ironic? for she was the one who once so lovingly looked at you, for this was the person you shared warmth with at night and touches of laughter by days.

your life was normal, halting from a well-off family and wrapping up with a high-paid job. in truth, your parents' marriage wasn't that of love, but benefitting the two parties. born as the youngest child, you were allowed to have no involvement in the dull lessons from private tutors to become a perfect heir. your older sister and you had a complex relationship, one sired from a shared trauma. the earliest memories about your parents were their backs, hands clutched in papers, and eyes glued to computer screens. every so often they would spare you a glance, and say nothing. there was no affection, nor the saccharine name callings, as if this union was another cold business. it didn't surprise you when you witnessed the blatant affairs of your father, and how your older sister shut you down whenever it was mentioned. you were indifferent, but a little irritated since you noticed how your father's mistress looked at you funny. additionally, she always fiddled with your mom's white rose pin. it was a heirloom, quoted your mother, which she would then pass on to your older sister. there was an uncommon hint of sadness in her timbre, and the sparks in her eyes shone shortly before abruptly returning to normal. perhaps she desired a better life for your older sister, for she was no reflection of her husband. you stood beside her in palpable silence, childishly thinking of the undisciplined classmates. at the age of 18, things changed, when your father was found bleeding in his office room. you were heading towards the company to return that pin, due to your mother's incomprehensible and persistent pleas. at the time, your older sister was traveling abroad, and still, no real connection. it was fine, finding the heirloom being painted in red. eyes cast down on his cold corpse, and a sense of boredom numbed your senses.

the funeral cut the luxurious peace that was long rooted in your family, as swift and cold as your father's disappointment. pure droplets dotted your outfit, a face devoid of any emotions hidden beneath the black veil. your gloved hands were nearly placed together, and as you were listening to your sister's practiced eulogy to the unfamiliar guests about how great the man was, your eyes caught with hers.

her eyes were a light shade of the sky, sore from all her weeping. your father, though his silent cruelty, was a loving and caring figure to his mistress's family. the pitiful blonde girl had not once considered him a father, for she was well aware of how wrong his relationship was to your family. she simply cried, since her mother had also passed away in a successful attempt of suicide. overwhelmed by losing her caretaker, and thrust into attending an event about the very man she disliked, crying was a natural reaction. at the time, you didn't know why you felt drawn to her. perhaps, you two fell victim to the same people, and for the first time, you viewed a humane being as beautiful. you tripped over your words, much to your dismay, and quietly offered a handkerchief. when the funeral ended, you took in your surroundings, a faint sadness tugged your lips as you noticed that the girl had already left.  

"did you...like her?" it had been ages since you heard that voice, a more mature and wary timbre rang from your ears. her presence, in your mind, was but another part of the mundane painting you carefully crafted for yourself. at the same time, she was an existence in a world that wasn't created for her, a space where there were you in it. her being, as a whole, remained an anomaly to your eternal gray winter, not a spring, nor a light of summer, but rather a yellow leaf from a tried and profound autumn. 

"i...don't know. she doesn't have a proper use to our company...." you shivered at your hesitation, biting back the urge to swallow as you rubbed your hands together. 

"....and yet, i want to talk more with her, to comfort those pretty eyes." you failed miserably at noticing how your sister's lips widened ever so slightly.

"is it weird, to find her more beautiful than a painting? to think that she could surpass a star?" when you turned your head to her, surprised at her silence, only to be taken back at her humming and smiling brightly. you knew of her since childhood, and yet this sight, akin to a rising dawn, bewildered you.

"it's normal, very normal." she chuckled. "it's like... what the little mermaid feels for the prince." 

"but, doesn't she end up....dead? i don't want to die because of a girl. is it a disease? i must have fallen ill. my heart keeps beating faster when I think of her...." 

"... it's admiration, silly. you want to become her friend." 

"ah, is that so? then....where shall i start? i keep stammering..."

"just put your trust in your sister."

it had been many years since then. your love story, despite being shrouded in much controversy, was unremarkable, but tranquil at the same time. she, the girl whose eyes were like diamonds from the sky, proposed to you underneath the honeyed sunlight. you pretended to be surprised, widened eyes before a smile tugged your lips. you blindly accepted her, a little diamond ring wrapped around your finger. had you known the tragic fate that is below you in the future, you wouldn't have thought of love, much less a marriage. 

since then, there has been something wrong, a missing puzzle that should have been completed in your life.

your fiancee changed, for the worse, after the engagement. she wasn't abusive nor neglected, but rather became more and more possessive. lingering touches and gazes started to seem overbearing, too suffocating, like tight vines around your form. the butterflies previously resided in your stomach's morphed into skull moths, and you weren’t sure if you could contain them anymore. they crawled towards your neck, gnawing into every fiber of your skin. it was disorientated, and the bad-mouthing at your workplace didn't make the situation any better. you were worn out, exhausted from all these peculiarities that suddenly poured down. 

it was the fifth anniversary of your relationship. heading home, with a slight hum, and a phone in your clutches, you failed to notice the lurking shadow that had been following you since the subway. unexpectedly, you were stabbed from behind by the stalker. the sky had already been coated in darkness, the streets had been well neigh emptied, creating a perfect formula for a murder. you didn't ask to be rich nor having the privilege to earn a position in your sister's company, were your thoughts as blood gushed out, red tainted the outfit you loved. black blots danced in your vision, and hands desperately replied a meaningless 'i love you'. a kick in your head was enough for death to take you from this miserable world of ennui.

at least, you could rest, right?

fate decided to toy with you by placing you in genshin impact, a game you used to waste time on. you remembered only caring for the lore and didn't bother to build any character properly. when you woke up, you wore the skin of a fontaine's citizen, and spent years as a florist, while withholding your knowledge about the fate of this world. for once, there was a noticeable change, which was the worship of an entity called the creator. you recalled vaguely about reading fanfic about this alternate universe, so you didn't want to be accused as an enigmatic imposter. the characters' religious frenzies were also a headache since you had to act as if you were so devoted to a figure you could care less of. through the years, your business was flourishing, not worldwide famous nor near the bridge of closing down. your life was utterly beige, following the melusines' requests and seeing the neverending commotions of the bustling region. strangely enough, you had never missed your lover, but it was understandable, in your defense. you grew bored of her keen eyes, viscous fingers, and clandestine jealousy, as those weren't your expectations. 

this life, though jaded, was the freedom you longed for.

recently, there sparked a rumor about the descent of a who had been claimed to be a prophet sent by the creator to lead teyvat to a propitious future. you paid no attention to it, much to estelle's dismay.

"[name]! you should be more excited! the flowers you sell are more lively than you!" she exclaimed, sighing at your seemingly aloof demeanors. you and she became acquainted after you 'accidentally' sent small lamp grasses to truand, which were whopperflowers in disguise. no one knew how you contained those beats, but your success in doing so had earned you an infamous reputation among fontaine. 

"i don't care. what's more, it is up to our archon to decide whether this is an imposter or not." you scoffed, squinted eyes as you thought of furina's facade for the past 500 years in the game. the woman was humiliated publicly and received no apologies. you would have continued back to your business, working as normal, if the saintess hadn't turned out to be the girl you abandoned.

it was unforeseen and frightfully startling when her body engulfed you in an embrace. you were acutely aware of the breaths that were squeezed out of your body, instincts that practically screamed to run, as their eyes prickled against your skin. they didn't understand why the vessel of the benevolent and caring creator was rejected by this unheard mortal. in their eyes, you should have been overjoyed upon being pampered by the saintess. since then, the tranquility you experienced shattered easily underneath the pressure of these beings. your shop was demolished, your reputation was torn apart, and your privacy was out of the picture, as you were regarded as the saintess’s lover. however, to add to your misery, when you swore to her that you would never sacrifice your dignity, and your regret of daring to be lured into a trance by her, she smiled. you had two options at the time, either your submission or a perturbed death. 

you chose death and were subjected to multiple torture, mostly from the fate harbingers, and the tsaritsa. 

before the day of your execution, she visited your prison, tears struck her face, as she embraced you tenderly.

"don't worry, my dear. after this, you could finally be mine."

they granted you a lenient death, a deft swipe from your neck.

upon your last minute, you contemplated your life.

it should have been you.

you were the one to arrive first, not her.

you knew more than her, knew more about this forsaken digital world then her.

there, along with the flow of time, sung a tale of a picturesque saintess, and a mysterious traveler, along with a floating oddity. they embarked on a journey through the seven lands of teyvat. 

what a shame, you died even before the story could begin.

“oh issue of the stars, may fate beest so kind to blesseth thee with anoth'r chance. may teyvat learneth to loveth thee, liketh how the 'saintess’ loveth thee. ”

[jaempanini]

002 Mark, where did you go?!

☆ warnings: nsfw jokes, cursing, haechan falls on the floor face-first, this chapter is partly written

☆ word count: 0.5k

You smile at your phone before quickly switching it off and pocketing it, turning around to look at Mark. Your brother sighs exasperatedly as he hauls all three of your suitcases up the stairs.

"I thought you were joking when you said you'd be bringing three suitcases... Aren't you only staying for a week?"

You shrug. "Where else am I supposed to fit my Versace shirts?"

"You are staying in an apartment with two college boys, where the hell will you be wearing Versace?"

You raise your eyebrows at him, before reaching up and flicking at his forehead. Mark flinches and stares at you, eyeing your new set of nails.

A moment passes before you roll your eyes and sigh out a short and simple: "You're such a man."

"That- that doesn't even mean anything, dude!"

"You shower once a week, I'm not taking advice from you. And you smell like a fucking pinetree"

"Bro! That's my new cologne!"

You and Mark finally make it to his floor, with you walking readily to his apartment and your brother awkwardly shuffling behind you, struggling with your baggage. You pause at one of the doors. "Your apartment is number 27, right?"

Mark looks up at you, taking some time to process your question before calling out a weak "Yeah."

You nod, but don't move to open the door.

Mark finally reaches you and lets out a huff as he sets the suitcases down, immediately shaking his hands and whining. You side-eye him. “Girl… I know that was not that fucking hard.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Mark exclaims, pouting and making big wide eyes at you. You stare back at him, before once again reaching up and flicking at his forehead, grinning in a satisfied way as you see him yelp and quickly cover the spot with his hand. Mark, in a defeated tone, tries to defend himself: “Come on… I'm older than you, technically I'm supposed to be the one making fun of you.”

You smile at him. Despite your pleasant expression, your voice is tense. “You know damn well I'd break both of your legs.”

Mark smiles back at you, nodding. Some sort of mental sibling-to-sibling connection happens, and Mark just sweetly replies, “Yeah.” (Renjun would say that "mental sibling connections" don't exist. You know he just doesn't understand your insane ability to be on one mental wavelength with Mark.)

You both break into a small fit of giggles, before Mark finally moves to open the door.

Mark, as soon as he swings the door open, he looks alarmed for a split second, and you hear a gasp, followed by the patter of feet, followed by a guy showing up in the doorway, who makes brief eye contact with you, before tripping over absolutely nothing and falling face-first onto the floor as Mark side-steps him.

You hear his body make a dull sound against the ground, after which he goes completely still. For a moment you almost become concerned, until he slowly lifts his head up and his face morphs into an expression of absolute, undeniable horror.

You can see Mark struggling to hold in his laugh in the corner of your eye, as the poor boy stares up at you with what you could only describe as pure dread.

“Donghyuck…” Mark begins, coughing in order to mask his giggle, “... this is my sister Yn…”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, the boy — Donghyuck, or whatever, — starts stuttering, and you can see his face start to turn bright red.

previous ☆ main post ☆ next

synopsis: What? Mark has a sister?! Donghyuck wasn't exactly sure what exactly he expected when he was told that Marks' sister would be visiting. Maybe he expected a girl who's as nice and goofy as Mark, or maybe a girl who's shy, but what he didn't expect was Yn Lee, who's apparently a biomedical engineering major, a part-time model, and also a bitch.

TAGLIST: @mmjhh1998 @haechology @413ktz @nia197 @keilover @hyukisf @pluggtalkk @chan-yeoldelling @txpxwxk @xrminarlert34

[liesonmytongues]

Virgin!Steve Harrison x GN!Reader

Synopsis- Steve's been pretending to be a top notch player for years, but the truth is, he's still a virgin. You change that.

Warnings/CWs- this is very wholesome smut, lovey dovey sex, virginity loss, dub-con if you absolutely *squint*, love sick/pussy drunk men, Steve being embarrassed and guilty about jorking it to you, descriptions of masturbation

Word count- 4,000

When he was back in Hawkins, Steve had a reputation. Full of himself. A player. Always a girl on his hip– whether or not she was his girlfriend– always bragging about his game, about his sex life.

He would tell his friends about every escapade involving a new hot chick– basing his stories off of people he saw outside. A hot blonde at the mall would turn into a ‘Filthy slut who couldn't stop begging for it’, an innocent looking brunette outside the church into ‘a crazy bitch who wanted it rough’.

Steve would try not to get too serious with girls at the school for obvious reasons– couldn’t have anyone exposing him as a liar, now could he? But every so often someone would catch his eye. It was shameful– dangerous really –the way he would get these girls head over heels for him, manipulate them in one way or another so they wouldn’t ask about what Steve really didn’t want to think about.

It was a little different with Nancy– he really did like her, much more than those other girls who were just to keep up appearances. He didn’t want to manipulate her, didn’t want to treat her like she was just another chick in the crowd– so Steve came up with a different solution. One that still didn’t include actually having sex with her. He couldn't talk the talk without the chance of someone telling her, so his stories turned more into something like ‘I can't say, Nancy’s too shy– it was a crazy night though’, and the couple of times anyone questioned him, he would intimidate them into dropping it– easy enough.

But it didn't change the fact that Steve Harrington is a virgin.

For one reason or another, he never actually got around to getting his dick wet– and, in juxtaposition to his personality, it was usually because he just…kept chickening out. He would fantasize about it– stroking himself raw with some cheap toy while he tried to imagine the feeling of a real hole– but that was where it ended for him. Sad nights alone while he got off to his next story– and for a while that was fine! For a while Steve didn't need anything other than the life he had– sports and drinking and pretty girls, that satisfied him enough without hitting third base.

Then when Eleven and the monsters showed up, he didn't have time for sex– no time for fantasizing, or jealousy, or nervousness –just surviving. And babysitting a group of kids.

Everything he’d been saying– doing –the inadequacy he felt, was completely pushed to the back of his mind for the better part of 2 years. The first time it quieted down, after they saved that poor kid and things almost seemed like they were gonna go back to normal, Steve considered trying to…regress. He wanted to feel like nothing had even happened– he wanted that control back –didn’t want to admit that everything had changed for good. It hurt to know that even if things were ok now, it would never, ever be the same. Nothing would ever be the same. That’s what consumed him until the next time the demogorgons showed up– and that, plus the constant wondering of what the fuck else was in the world made it a little hard to get it up.

Steve tried once– kissing her, rubbing her clit through her panties, fingering her while he tried, tried so hard, to just make his stupid dick cooperate– and then he realized how stupid that was. He had this beautiful, half naked, moaning girl under him– this girl he was sure he loved –and he still couldn’t push himself past his nerves for long enough to fuck her.

Nancy tried 3 more times– all ending in Steve shakily, nervously, using his hands or mouth to make her cum while he was stuck in his own head. They broke up a few weeks after the last try, and he didn’t get any more chances before that…thing took them both.

Steve's first thought was that it was another creature made by the lab– that's where he found it, that's what it had to be, right? Some other failed, murderous experiment or alternate dimensional nightmare that he had to take the brunt of, just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At first, that theory seemed right– the place they were taken looked just like the upside down’s version of Hawkins lab, with the same distant screaming from a demogorgon –but being shucked right off to ‘The camp’ was a good way to change his mind. There were other people there– too many for any type of hell Steve’s ever been to –and it seemed like they were ready to see him and Nance, a tall, scrawny guy greeting them with too much energy and too much understanding.

And the rest is history, right? For one reason or another, the thing known as the ‘entity’ wanted them there, along with a bunch of other ‘survivors’ and the things that have been torturing them for god knows how long.

You…make it a little more bearable. A little.

You welcomed Steve and Nancy better than a lot of the other survivors– and part of it was definitely to learn how to survive the demogorgon, you’d be stupid to pass up that opportunity –making sure they knew what was going to happen with much less frantic, frightened energy than Dwight. You were a godsend really, and Steve feels like he owes you his life– no matter how many times he’s died here.

You were just friends– that's all. Forget about the way his heart and stomach feel like they’re sinking in on themselves every time he sees you, or the way he looks forward to the end of trials because that means more time to spend together, or how everything you say seems to be funny, or smart, or mind melting– all of that is just because you're a really good friend, and this place is messing with Steve's ability to see that.

Plus, spending every day around the ex who was your first love is a surefire way to confuse your brain. That's the rational Steve gave on the nights spent trying not to jerk himself off to something you did that day; the nights where he failed miserably, stuffing his hand on his mouth to muffle the pathetic sounds he made every time he came, and one was never enough; the nights Steve felt disgusting for what he considered violating you, sticky with his own cum and still not able to get you out of his head.

No, you’re just friends. And sometimes, when friends are in bad situations, it gets a little confusing. What you don’t know can’t hurt you, can’t make you look at him at a gross freak, can’t ruin your relationship– but it can make you suspicious.

Suspicious because Steve was acting weird, and he hadn’t even realized it– hadn’t realized that he hadn’t made eye contact with you in weeks. Honestly, he was pretty confident that his sneaking–away skills were honed to perfection– it’d worked on the demogorgons, who would have thought that it wouldn’t work on a person? Nevermind the fact that demogorgons don’t actually have eyes to see him with.

Your breaking point came around the same time every single trial with Steve started ending in a sacrifice.

You’d tried talking to him about it, and when that didn’t work, you tried talking to Nancy. From what you’d gathered, she’d been pretty good at mystery solving in Hawkins, and since she knew Steve so well, it seemed like your best bet…but you got nothing. No hint at anything that could have happened, nothing shared when you weren’t around about why he was so awkward all of a sudden, not so much as a complaint– leaving you to do everything yourself.

No way in hell were you going to confront him with all the other survivors around, that would just lead to even more awkwardness, and you couldn’t handle that– not with everything else –but you did need to confront him. You couldn’t work together, your entire relationship was strained, and if you couldn’t find some sort of way to resolve this…tension, you were going to explode and make this whole issue even worse.

But maybe in hindsight, sneaking up on him in his cabin wasn't the best idea either. In your defense, you had no idea about his hopeless pining, and with your annoyance clouding your better judgment, it seemed like the only way to finally get him talking. And really, that had been your plan! The whole walk there you’d been thinking of just the right words to get across exactly what you wanted to say– stay calm, tell him how you feel, tell him what needed to change. It was your plan, until the moment you knocked on the door – and heard Steve moan your name at the same time.

It took a second to process what you heard, to be pulled –punched, really– out of the concentration and anger that had fueled this whole trip and really hear it for what it was, but by then there was a whole other reason you were distracted. Steve slammed open the door, flushed and sweaty, panting like a whore and looking at you with the widest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You– It’s not–! It’s not what it looks like!” Steve stumbled over his words in an attempt to get them out as fast as possible, to convince you somehow that you hadn’t heard what you just heard– convince you not to turn around and leave and never speak to him again.

“Please, please, I’m so sorry– I promise I can explain! I–”

“Inside.”

“What–”

“Inside.”

If someone asked you, it would be hard to tell them why you did what you did– shoving Steve Harrington inside his cabin was a split second decision, kissing him was another, dropping everything you’d wanted to say was a third. Maybe it was because you were so tense– it’s not easy to live like this, god knows there’s not much time for sex of all things –the rush of emotions, the shock, maybe it was because he just looked so debauched with his face red and his lips parted the way they were. Fuck, maybe it’s just because he finally looked at you again.

It didn’t really matter what it was though, did it? Not when he moaned like that, like he was starving for you, as soon as your hands were on him.

He hadn’t gotten to finish, that much was clear from how his cock was pressed twitching to your thigh– leaking a sticky patch of precum where he’d haphazardly shoved himself back into his jeans before opening the door.

“Wait– wait!” Steve pushed you back by the hips, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in deep, sharp breaths. Even if he hadn’t said anything, it was obvious how hesitant it was.

“What–” You mirrored his confusion from earlier,

“I’ve never…done this before.” He gestured vaguely downwards, and when you followed the movements to his groin, his cock visibly throbbed.

“You’ve…never had sex? You’re a virgin?” And with that he’s right back to not looking at you– flushed even brighter than before and staring down the floorboards like they did this, like they made him hard, made you find him moaning your name, made you come inside and made him admit what he didn’t even admit to Nancy. But he feels…better. His erection has flagged a little just from the shame of the situation, but it’s not like before– when the second someone tried to have sex with him, he stopped being able to get it up at all.

“Yeah.” He breathed, loosening the grip on your waist– as if being a virgin of all things would mean you wouldn’t want him.

“Is that…all?”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I’ve only ever used my mouth, I don’t know if I’m gonna be any good…” The skin of his neck was shiny with perspiration, a droplet of sweat dripping down his jaw and fucking christ you want to lick it off–

“No? I don't care how much experience you have Steve–fuck, don't you know what you do to me?” His eyes flicked down to your groin and you could feel the shudder that passed through him–hear it too, if that quivering, breathy sigh was anything to go off. You were caught off guard when Steve suddenly yanked you forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoving his face into the crook of your neck–taking deep breaths, inhaling your scent while he tried to ground himself.

Less caught off guard when he pulled you in for another kiss, mashing your lips and noses together in a type of desperation that can only come from a man who's been hard for the last hour– tongue worming it's way between your lips, only pulling away long enough to breathe hot puffs of air against your face.

You didn’t protest when he pulled you back towards his bed, or when you felt him turn you around, your calves hitting the mattress only a few moment before the rest of you, falling into the old raggedy blankets and grunting when Steve climbs on top of you–because he just refuses to let go of your body for even a second, grinding his cock to your thigh in slow strokes while he tries his hardest to devour you.

“Fuck– you mean it?” He shifts to kissing your jaw–just as rough as your lips–so you can respond, murmuring variations of your name and ‘please’ and ‘say it’.

“Yeah, I mean it.” It comes out breathy and desperate, but god, there’s not a single world where you could bring yourself to care with such a pretty man looking equally as debauched above you. He gets a panicked look on his face barely a second before his hands shoot down to his jeans, ripping them open with enough force to audibly pop a thread, pulling his boxers down and gripping his cock painfully. You have half a mind to ask him what he’s doing–what was that look for? Is something wrong? Is he already done with the foreplay?–but only get about as far as parting your lips before Steve makes a pained noise, halfway between a moan and a sob, and is cumming over the front of your shirt. Thick strands accompanied by choked groans as he tries to make it stop, frantically muttering ‘no!’ under his breath again and again.

You shouldn’t be surprised–you aren’t surprised, not really–but it’s still sudden enough to make your eyes bulge a little more with every spurt. Which, of course, Steve notices immediately– flushing with shame instead of arousal and covering his eyes with the back of his free hand.

“Jesus– fuck! I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to, I don’t know what happened–” He’s spiraling is what you distantly realize, but you’re too caught up with the fact that he just came from being told you were into him. So caught up, in fact, that the only way you can think to really calm him down is smashing his face back into yours. You have his hair between your fingers before he can utter another distraught apology, and he’s right back to melting into you.

You don’t stop him when Steve’s hands move to your pants, taking them off with much less frenzy than his own. His cock had barely softened, and when your underwear was down far enough that he finally caught a glimpse of your body, it gave a hard twitch–already raring to go a second time. God knows if it’s because it’s you or just the situation, but you can hope.

Steve looks back and forth between your hole and your stained shirt for a moment, before with two fingers, he scoops his own cum off your shirt, pressing them inside your hole achingly slowly–like he’s scared that giving them to you how you want will break you. He seems mesmerized by the way each knuckle sinks deeper, spreading you open on his fingers while his spend pushes back–oozing out before he shoves it back in again.

“Fuck– you’re so tight, so warm…” The way he's looking at you is near–reverent, huffing out a breath every time you squeeze and practically moaning when he can’t go any deeper.

“Don’t you wanna feel that–hah–around your cock? Give your body what it wants?” You were panting as much as Steve at this point, sighing and moaning softly every time he found just the right spot to focus on.

“Don't say that kind of thing!” He whined, breaking eye contact for a second so he could lean over and open his mouth, letting some spit dribble onto your hole to aid the way while his fingers sped up–trying to spread you open faster so his poor, angry looking cock could get some relief. Real relief–not just cumming in his pants like a…y'know, like a virgin.

Still bent over, Steve used his free arm to cage you underneath him–forcing your legs up and around his waist at the same time so he could keep up the rhythm. You could feel your body starting to ease open, just barely loose enough for him to put in a third finger and spread them inside you. It felt fantastic, but you could almost be fooled into thinking that he was the one feeling it–almost as noisy from just the sensation of your walls around his thick, rough fingers.

It wasn’t quite enough to make you cum, not without any other stimulation, but his enthusiasm turned you on like nothing else. He gave a few more thrusts, fingers spread out as much as possible in a last ditch attempt to prep you before he lost it.

“I’m sorry- I need it, you have no idea-”

“It’s fine, I’m fine, just put it in, please.” A mix of Steve’s pre and cum and spit eased the way as he gripped his cock at the base and finally started pushing it forward–squeezing tight to try and keep himself from coming any faster than he already would. He only managed to get the tip inside before he had to pause, shutting his eyes with a desperate, shuddering moan–nuzzling his face into your chest while his free hand glided away from its death-grip on the sheets, opting instead for holding your head, threading your hair over his palm until he had enough to tug.

You could feel his fat, leaky cockhead throb–the vibration of another moan spreading through your chest before his hips jerked enough to force another couple of inches inside you. And it hurt, it did, that same string and stretch that always came with having something new inside you, but he was just so perfect that you couldn’t focus on it. You’d noticed before how pretty he was below the belt–and it really showed now.

God, maybe you really have just gone that long without getting laid, but Steve’s dick filled you better than you can ever remember being filled. Better than your fingers, better than any toy for the sheer amount of emotion and connection, better than the vague snippets of your last fucks from years ago now.

Steve pulled himself off of your chest after a minute, taking deep breaths and scrunching up his face in concentration–then another minute before he manages to let go of his shaft and push the rest of the way inside. The moan he gives you is borderline pornographic when he bottoms out, hot enough to–along with the feeling of his stomach pressing against your groin–have you moaning with him.

His thrusts have no real rhythm, no actual skill, just the sloppiness that shows exactly how inexperienced he really is–and equally how desperate he is for you. There’s no rhyme or reason to how he chases the feeling, but somehow he still manages to tease your orgasm–to rut his sensitive cock in all the right places to make it feel good instead of annoying.

“I’m not gonna- hah, oh god- not gonna last. Christ you feel so good- you’re so perfect, you’re perfect- I love you.” Your attention was immediately snapped away from his hips up to his face, where he was staring at you with those big brown eyes–again the puppy analogy comes to mind–and the most of an emotion besides fear you’ve seen in a long time.

“Can I- ngh -cum on your stomach? Please?” It's hard to tell if he even realizes that he just said he loves you, and he's not giving you any time to process it with the way his thrusts are speeding up–just barely able to keep his cock from slipping out through his frantic movements. And it was so lewd, so wet and slick and loud–blocking out everything else except the moaning right in front of your face.

Steve was putting everything into making you feel good–fighting back his orgasm while whispering harsh ‘please, please, please’ under his breath, along with a slurred approximation of your name and those frankly beautiful, desperate hitches of breath. Your body fought to accommodate the way he sped up, battering your walls in a way that juxtaposed his confession a minute ago.

“Yes, yes cum on me, cum on me baby- fuck-” You barely managed to finish your sentence before Steve was pulling out, curling his body over you and trembling while his cock throbbed against your stomach–followed by another moan that could only be described as burning, aching, and the first shot of hot, sticky fluid on your skin, cumming so hard it managed to reach your collar, sticking to his own chest in the process and dripping down onto the sheets. His noises didn’t stop for nearly a full minute, whimpering and whining while you murmured sweet words, trying to ease him down from his high.

That’s all you expected from him–as sweet as he could be, he’s still a man from the 80’s–which is why you were surprised when he didn’t just slump over and leave you to deal with the painful way your arousal licked at your stomach, begging for relief.

You weren’t sure what to think of the way Steve climbed down the bed–until he latched his mouth to your groin, sucking and licking and taking you into his mouth, as much as he could fit at once. It took him a second, but he turned his eyes up to you, lidded and high from endorphins, giving him a lovesick, fucked out look that only served to turn you on more. And the way he kept moaning, groaning and scrunching his face up like he was the one feeling it–like you were the one fucking him with your mouth, desperate to make him cum.

And it was desperate–not a thought inside his head, only driven by the feral need to make you feel as good as he did. How could you ever not comply?

It barely took another minute of the sloppy, needy working of his tongue before you were cumming too, and Steve lapped up everything, like everything you were giving him was a gift that he needed to take, refusing to let even a drop go to waste. Distantly, in the middle of feeling like your vision was going to white out, you could feel another few drops leak out of his twitching cock, milking himself dry just from the taste of you.

He wrapped his arms around your thigh when you pried his head away, resting his face on your hip so he could keep pressing soft kisses to your skin. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t in his right mind–tired and euphoric and fucked stupid–but you let him stay, wiping his messy hair away from his forehead and petting at his nape.

“Was it…good?” He murmured, glancing up at you again.

“Christ, do you really have to ask?” He kept looking at you, blinking slowly–waiting. “Yeah. It was really good.” And he nods, sighing against your skin–then a choking sound when you followed it up with ‘I love you too’.