#ev conversion cost

[homoquartz]

a show doesn't necessarily have to be ABOUT queerness to BE a queer show. it's a cultural dialect that cishets don't quite speak.

edit: i gotta clarify that the shows do indeed still have to have actual queer characters in them to count

[plugincaro]

Car EV conversion Kit Only Rs 1 lakh - GoGoA1

Kit Price = Rs 100,000 100kms Range need 4 Batteries = 2Lakhs 300kms Range need 12 Batteries = 6Lakhs Continue reading Untitled

[dipnots]

Portable EV Chargers: Charge Your Electric Vehicle Anywhere, Anytime

Electric vehicles (EVs) are becoming increasingly popular due to their environmental benefits, lower running costs, and technological advancements. However, one of the main concerns of owning an EV is finding a charging station when you’re on the road. This is where portable EV chargers come in. In this blog post, we will explore the benefits of portable EV chargers and how they work. EXPLORE…

[bmwbestusa]

New Ford Explorer EV 2024 Design, Price, Release Date

New Ford Explorer EV 2024 Design, Price, Release Date – Ford and Volkswagen have been meditating on a shared-development electric sport utility vehicle for some time. We shouldn’t feel slighted that the “Explorer” probably won’t make its way to the United States because the European version of the Ford Explorer has finally arrived. Still, it appears like a slightly revamped Volkswagen ID.4 EV.…

[floralcyanide]

— 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 (nsfw)

important note: if you don't like rpf (or fanfic about real people), please just scroll past. don't be rude in the reblogs or tags or I will just block you. it costs zero dollars to mind your business and keep scrolling. tom will literally never see this. I will never send it to him. therefore, no one is getting harmed by this. rpf is written by many about many real people and has been for a long time. if you'd like to file a complaint, I'd love to see you say that writing rpf is weird to the Hamilton fandom, the Billy the Kid fandom, the Elvis/ Queen/ Greta Van Fleet/ other bands and singers fandoms, (especially the k pop fandom. I pray you survive if you do.) etc etc. basically, just ignore this if you don't wanna see it. have a good day (:

⌯ pairing: tom blyth / fem!reader

⌯ warnings: mentions of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, mentions of smoking, reader smokes but it isn't explicitly described (can be an ignored detail), eventual smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (please protect yourself with strangers), oral sex (f receiving), nipple play, cum eating, fluff if you squint

⌯ word count: 3454

⌯ summary: at your friend's christmas party, you meet tom blyth and there's a strong connection off the bat. after a little too much to drink and a night spent talking, the two of you have an intimate christmas eve together. (based on those nights by bastille.)

⌯ author’s note: I've been so busy that I haven't been able to finish this until today lol and it took ages because I kept getting distracted ((: anyway!! merry christmas and happy hanukkah, I hope everyone enjoys this (: if you don't pls keep it to yourself

divider credit: @arminsumi | @eloquentreverie | @cafekitsune ⌯ masterlist ⌯ taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You’re nursing a glass of half-sipped champagne, trying your best to pay attention to what your friend is saying to you through the pounding music. Being social with them is the least you can do, considering this is their holiday party you’re attending. And they’ve supplied the alcohol that you’ve helped yourself to all night. This is one reason why you can’t focus very well, but there’s another reason, too. You swear you feel eyes from somewhere in the apartment searing into the back of your head. At first, it wasn’t a big deal. But now it’s almost as if you’re scared to move in case someone is watching. Still listening to your friend, you realize you’re unable to look around to find the source. So you push away the sensation the best you can for now. A mutual friend waves at you from across the room where the makeshift bar is. Downing the rest of your champagne, you bid the friend you’re conversing with a quick goodbye for the time being. Hurrying to your friend who beckoned you over, you look at them with a raised brow when their face scrunches up into a giddy smile.

“Why do you look like that?” you ask, carefully eyeballing them.

Your friend chuckles at you, leaning into your ear, “There’s a hot guy back there who has been eyeing you for quite some time.”

Your face contorts into realization. So that’s why you’ve been feeling eyes burning into you. You hesitantly turn around, hoping you aren’t too blatantly obvious in finding who is staring. However, at this point in the night, you aren’t entirely graceful by any means. Your eyes catch onto a brunette man almost immediately, like you’re drawn to one another somehow. The man glances down at his drink before letting his eyes shoot back up to yours, his determined gaze sending goosebumps across your skin. Your friend has been too busy making you a drink to notice the tension but still manages to switch out your empty glass with a full one despite your daze.

“I’ll be right back,” you say just loud enough for your friend to hear over the song blaring through the speakers.

With the alcohol burning in your system, the atmosphere of the apartment seems otherworldly. It’s a fairly glitzy party, so you’re dressed for the occasion. Your outfit highlights your best features, allowing you to have an air of confidence. A kind of confidence you don’t usually carry. The alcohol certainly helps with that. The shimmery lighting bouncing off the walls gives off an ethereal vibe to the apartment. The dim glimmer of the room casts the shadow of the brunette man’s eyelashes onto his cheekbones. The closer you get, the more you notice about him. His aquiline nose, the contour of facial hair on his face, the tasteful and subtle golden hoop in his left ear. You see a small smile stretch across his lips as you approach him.

“I am so sorry if I’m coming off as creepy,” he shouts over the music, laughing to himself, “I promise I don’t mean to. You’re just really attractive.”

You take a moment to let your eyes take in his form as discreetly as possible, noticing his towering height and lean physique. Now that you’re close enough to properly see his face, you note that his eyes shine a hauntingly beautiful shade of icy blue. He takes a moment to study your face as well, waiting with bated breath for your response.

“That means a lot coming from someone who is also attractive. And I thought I felt someone staring,” you jokingly smile at him around a sip of your drink.

“Sorry about that,” the man rubs the back of his neck nervously, “I just never know how to approach without being awkward.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the heavy weight of the brunette’s eyes on yours, your drink burning away any nervousness that had previously lingered.

“I get it,” you match his smile that has yet to wipe off his face, “I’m not the type to come up to someone I find cute. But…” you trail off, taking in the man’s attractiveness, “There’s something about you I can’t put my finger on.”

“Well,” he chuckles at you, bringing his glass to his lips before hesitating, “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Oh really?’ you raise your eyebrows, a playful tinge to your voice, “How’s that?”

“Do you smoke?” the man asks.

“Only when I’m drinking,” you chide. 

The two of you weave around the other party-goers toward the fire escape, and you snatch the bottle of something from your friend’s hand while passing the bar on the way out. After clambering from the window behind the tall man, who effortlessly climbed out, you take his outstretched hand. Planting your feet on the landing, you watch as the man fishes out a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches from his back pocket. He looks up at you expectantly, patting the spot on the metal grating next to him.

“I don’t bite,” he jokes, “Not hard, anyway.”

You bite back a snort but sit down anyway. You take a swig of the clear liquid in the bottle you took before offering it to the man with a sour face. He’s in the process of lighting up, the cigarette hanging between his lips casually as he holds a lit match to the end. You watch him do this, and something stirs inside you. He takes a drag before handing the cigarette to you and taking the bottle from your hand. 

“You smoke a lot?” you ask him before taking a drag of your own, your eyes not leaving him.

He shrugs, “I picked it up while in college. It’s a bad habit I go back to sometimes.”

“I see,” you say, “I forgot to ask, but what’s your name?”

“Tom,” the brunette says, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he offers a free hand for you to shake. You gently take it.

Despite the chill of the night, Tom’s hand is warm against yours. You both hesitate to pull away, but a shy chuckle shared between the two of you causes a natural break of grip. You continue to smoke and pass the bottle to and from each other, talking about this year’s notable events in your lives. You speak for a while before more personal details begin spilling. Like how much you hate your job and how Tom missed his co-stars from his last project. Or how you both hate being single during the holidays. The more alcohol that’s consumed, the more you discuss your lives. It’s only been an hour or two, but it feels like you’ve known each other forever. 

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you. Tom looks over at you, admiring how your cigarette looked so natural in your hand. And how your hair fell perfectly around your face and how you swung your legs back and forth innocently. The corners of Tom’s lips twitch upward as he subtly moves closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours. He thinks you’re quite interesting and pretty- he doesn’t know why you’re still single when you’re such an amazing person.

You feel the roughness of his trousers against your bare thigh as you finish your final cigarette. You swish the remaining contents of the bottle around, deciding that your blurry peripheral vision means it is time to stop drinking. When you turn to offer Tom the rest of the alcohol, he’s facing you already, mere inches away. Your breath hitches as his eyes look into yours. They drop to your lips, and despite your intoxication, you feel giddy in your stomach. 

“Can I,” Tom whispers, lifting a hand to your cheek, “Can I kiss you?”

You sit the bottle down on the other side of where you’re sitting, a drunken smile growing on your face, “Of course you can.”

Tom leans in, pressing his lips to yours gently. You inhale sharply through your nose at the intense feeling of electricity between the two of you. You can taste the alcohol on him when you run your tongue across his bottom lip, testing just how far he wants to go. Your hand reaches up and cards through his dark hair, bringing him as close as possible as the kiss becomes more passionate. Tom’s free hand grasps your hip, his thumb digging deeper into your skin the harder you kiss him. Your head swims as he peppers his lips along your jawline and under your ear.

“We should probably go inside,” you pull away reluctantly, but even in your stupor, you don’t want to get carried away and fall off the fire escape.

You struggle to push up the cracked open window, and Tom giggles at you as he effortlessly pushes it open for you. Both of you climb through, and your friend shakes their head at you when your feet land firmly on the floor.

“I had wondered where you ran off to,” they chuckle, “I see you’ve met my friend Tom.”

“Uh, yeah,” you smile, looking up at him as he stands beside you.

Your friend looks closely at the two of you, noticing your bitten lips and Tom’s flushed face, “Now that the party has dwindled down, you guys can chill upstairs where it’s quiet. I have a book collection you two would enjoy.”

“Gotcha,” you nod as they walk away to mingle with other partygoers.

Looking around, you notice the remainder of the gathering is in other parts of the apartment, leaving the living room and upstairs unoccupied. Tom grabs your hand, pulling you away from the kitchen to the hallway leading to the stairs. You pull him into another kiss, Tom giggling at your eagerness as he sways slightly. He walks you backward until you feel your back against the nearby wall. Neither of you would do this on a typical day, but the energy between both of you is so intense. Your hands move underneath his shirt, your cold palms making contact with his warm skin. Tom gasps into the kiss at the contact, and you scoff, pulling away from him and grabbing his hand to drag him up the stairs.

“Careful,” Tom says to you as your legs wobble. Meanwhile, he’s struggling to climb them as well.

After a few minutes of tussling and laughing, the two of you finally reach the second floor.

“So about that book collection,” Tom raises an eyebrow, catching his breath as he grabs you by the hips, bringing you close to him.

“Only if you really want to,” you look up at him, both your and his eyes glazed over.

“I do,” Tom runs his hands along your sides, his gaze heavy on you, “Lead the way.”

You walk ahead of him, pulling him into the guest bedroom, where the books do happen to be stored in a giant bookcase along the wall. String lights around the ceiling give a soft golden glow to the room as you approach the mass of books. Tom closes the door softly as he enters the room, walking up behind you as you trace the spine of one of your favorite books. Tom wraps his arms around you, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck gingerly. You melt into his chest, closing your eyes as he travels down your shoulder. Your dress has an exposed back, and Tom is taking advantage of it as Tom falls to one knee and continues kissing down your body. He delicately unties the silk ribbon holding the two sides of your dress together, pausing before allowing it to fall to the floor.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” Tom says.

You turn around and walk to the bed, allowing your dress to fall behind you. Sitting down, you motion for Tom to come over to you. His eyes scan your face, avoiding your intricate and deep-colored underwear as he stands up. Tom stands between your slightly parted legs, and you move your hands to the lapels of his black blazer, pushing them open. He discards it from his arms and to the floor before pulling his t-shirt over his head. You try not to ogle at his perfect body, but your hands wander anyway. Up his abdomen and across his chest until you reach his neck, where you pull him down for a heated kiss. Tom lightly pushes you onto the bed, and you move to the pile of pillows to rest your head. He climbs over you, caging you underneath him. Before you can react, Tom pulls your legs up around his waist as he rests his body on yours. His lips hover over yours, his darkened eyes boring into yours much like they did the back of your head earlier in the evening. 

“Don’t stop,” you say, crossing your ankles behind Tom’s back.

Tom attacks your neck with hot kisses and soft bites, your hand grasping the back of his head. As his body relaxes into you, his weight presses you against the bed, and you feel how hard he is. You lift your hips to lightly grind into Tom, and his soft bite into your collarbone turns harsh in reaction. He continues downward, slipping his fingers underneath the straps of your bra and sliding them down your shoulders. You arch your back so Tom has the room to unclasp the band and remove the garment from you. He wastes no time resuming his kisses on your sensitive skin, avoiding the areas you desire his kisses most. You gasp when Tom lets his hand brush against your breast, his thumb circling your nipple softly. A small moan leaves your lips, and Tom glances up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He admires how your eyebrows crease momentarily in pleasure, so he circles his thumb again. You moan louder this time, craving his touch without hesitance.

“Please,” you sigh, “Don’t hold back either.”

Tom hums in response before dipping his head down and enveloping your nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue teasingly. He rubs your other nipple with his thumb, simultaneously stimulating you. You whimper, heat from your still buzzed body rushing to your clit. Your hips roll in response, and you’re sure Tom can feel your dampened panties against his chest. He gives your nipple a sharp tug with his teeth before focusing on your needy core. He leaves an open-mouthed kiss on your clothed heat before removing your underwear. Still buzzed from all the alcohol earlier, Tom tries his best to be soft with you despite the pit of desire growing between you. You want him- all of him, and you want it now. And Tom wants you. Before you can speak, Tom’s warm mouth meets your folds, his tongue lapping at your arousal. You squirm from the sudden stimulation, but he stills your hips with his grip. A hand flies to Tom’s mussed-up hair as he plunges his tongue into you, his nose pressing to your clit. He inhales your scent, and it intoxicates him more than alcohol ever could. Shaking his head, Tom’s nose rubs against your clit perfectly as his tongue fucks you. Your whole body is up in flames, your fingers tightening in his hair. 

You’re muttering incoherent praises as you ride Tom’s face. He replaces his tongue with two of his fingers, your relaxed wetness allowing him to slip them in easily. They scissor against your fluttering walls as Tom sucks on your bundle of nerves. Your fuzzy mind keeps you from hiding how good his mouth feels on you, and your moans grow louder. His mouth leaves your cunt abruptly before reattaching to yours, silencing you immediately.

“Gotta be quiet,” Tom huffs against your lips, “People are still downstairs, love.”

You wrap your legs around him again, grinding yourself into his still-clothed cock. He’s the one to moan this time, slipping his tongue into your mouth and letting you taste yourself. You unwrap your legs and work to unfasten Tom’s trousers, pushing them down his thighs. He kicks them off the rest of the way, along with his underwear, as he continues to kiss you. You reach down between your bodies and palm Tom’s length, to which he groans into your mouth. You guide his tip to your entrance, allowing him to comfortably push into you. Your hands grasp Tom’s shoulder blades, your nails lightly digging into his skin with every inch that enters you. You whimper in pleasure at him finally being inside you after longing for it all night. Tom bottoms out with a content sigh, also elated at the feeling of you clenching around his length after craving it for so long. 

Your chests heave against one another, your forehead pressed to Tom’s. His enticing blue eyes meet yours as he slowly pulls out before slamming his hips against yours. You gasp, arching your back and letting butterflies swarm in your belly when Tom kisses the corner of your mouth. He fucks into you again, slowly building a steady pace. Your lips barely brush against Tom’s as he snaps his body into yours. Your buzz has now faded away, allowing you to feel him entirely sober. He sneaks his hand between you and presses his thumb to your clit, making you hiss at the sudden stimulation. Your head pushes against the pillows, exposing your throat. Tom lets his hand lazily wrap around it, not squeezing but instead holding it as he grazes his teeth on your skin there as he kisses your neck. 

“Feel so good around me,” Tom says dazedly, and you feel his eyelashes flutter under your jaw, “So gorgeous.”

Your hand rests in his hair again, gently combing through his locks as he rocks into you faster. His weight on you, his thumb still rubbing your clit, and his hand around your neck seals the deal for you as he plows into that sweet spot inside you. 

“Tom,” you moan, “I’m close.”

“Me too, baby. Me too,” he whispers into your skin, leaving soft kisses in contrast to his rough thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you mutter, your chin resting on Tom’s head.

Tom lifts your leg and places it on his shoulder, allowing him to hit a new angle inside you. You bury your face in his hair to deafen the cry that escapes you in response. 

“Right there,” you pant, your hands desperately holding onto Tom’s hair as your mouth hangs open in silent pleasure.

Tom breathes heavily into your neck, using all the energy he has left to mercilessly fuck your weeping cunt. You feel your stomach tensing, alerting you of your impending orgasm. Tom chants your name as he firmly presses his thumb into your clit, causing the tightly wound knot inside you to snap undone. Your thigh clamps into the side of Tom’s neck while the other shakes against the bare skin of his sweat sheened back. The feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him makes Tom explode inside you with a gasp. You grip Tom’s hair desperately as you milk him of everything he has, his thumb still not letting up on your clit. Another orgasm washes over you suddenly. This time it makes you convulse, your cunt gushing around Tom and dripping down your thighs as you cry out in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” you gasp for air, Tom pulling out of you.

He moves down to your pussy, cleaning up the cum spilling from you with a hungry tongue. You’re so sensitive that your thighs slam into the sides of Tom’s head. He suckles your clit for a moment for good measure, making you writhe underneath him. You pathetically whimper when he pulls away, finally catching your breath. Tom returns to his previous position on top of you, his face buried in your neck. He wraps his arms around you, softly stroking your skin. 

“Wow,” you giggle, letting your nose dig into Tom’s brunette hair.

“Yeah,” he smirks, “You’re amazing.”

“That’s all you, I’m afraid,” you say.

Tom hums, “I disagree, sweetheart.”

He rolls over momentarily, lifting the duvet for you to climb under. He embraces you again, holding you close as if you’ll disappear like some sort of dream. You wrap your arms around Tom’s, smiling as he presses his nose to your hair. 

“I still haven’t put my finger on it,” you say after a moment of silence.

“Hmm? On what?”

“That something about you.”

“I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out, then.”

“Deal,” you chuckle, “Merry Christmas, Tom.”

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.”

taglist:

@barbaraelaine @devotedly-sassy @nowitsmissing @arzua10 @screamqueenpink

[kaerumi]

Hello dear, I was wondering if you can do some yandere for the very infamous OP men shanks, mihawk,ace,and sabo with normal y/n who's younger than them in separate senariors..

Y/N traits : innocent, sweetheart, warm personality, enchanted beauty with extremely cutie pie face and amazing warm and calm voice that melts the snow from its sweetness it's make anyone feel at ease only by hearing it , it's one of the most reasons why those men had gone insane over her ,why they want to possess her at any cost .

TY and have a good day ☺️.

TW/CW: Yandere, Age gap is up to 3 years, obsession, implied murder, implied poisoning, mention of murder & arson, manipulation (for Sabo)

Notes: I'll be honest I have no clue how to do an innocent reader. And it's gonna be GN Sorry I don't particularly do Female readers Also sorry for not writing in so long :^

Shanks

Shanks was a popular Model, he can flirt with anyone without hesitation.

Then there was you, you weren't popular at all. When he saw you he felt the urge to just... Take you.

He felt jealous of the guys around you that soaked in your attention, in your voice and innocence and especially your beauty.

He just needed it. Needed you.

Eventually he started obsessing over you trying to find every photo there was of you, eventually it got worse

Just hope for both your innocence and sanity you don't meet him.

Until you did.

And suddenly you started to notice people around you get killed, you somehow trusted the red bloody haired man with your safety.

"You'll be fine I'm here after all! All you need is me sweetheart."

After all what did you know?

You're innocent after all

And that's what made Shanks' job of getting you to be his more easier.

Mihawk

Mihawk was a famous swordsman and you were always interested in swords so naturally you took interest in Mihawk.

Unfortunately he took a interest in you as well.

You ended always staying behind the classes because of how much trouble you had with sword, you'd have small conversations with Mihawk.

Slowly Mihawk started to know everything about you and wrote of it down in a notebook that was always locked in a case.

When someone annoyed you too much or confessed to you they suddenly would fall ill and be unable to attend.

Due to Mihawk naturally being cold people didn't notice anything different about him and you didn't know better.

Though you slowly started to blame yourself because people around you would get ill and naturally they ended up dying to the illness.

"My dear... It's not your fault, they naturally fell ill. It is not your fault and anyone who is saying such things is a horrible person who is just jealous. It is unfortunate they fell ill yes but there was nothing you could do. My dear..."

You never knew why they fell ill, and you may never know.

Maybe it's better if you never did anyways.

Ace

Ace was Ace, he's a popular play boy in the town but all he did was flirt and play with hearts.

That was before you came along.

He knew he needed you once first meeting your eyes.

You were most certainly more cuter than anyone else's hearts he's played with.

He wasn't gonna break your heart, no. He could never, he was gonna make sure he was the only one in your heart not matter what he had to do.

He would do whatever you wanted to do or needed.

He'd gladly kill with no hesitation.

Want him to stab that guy who catcalled you? Done.

Want him to burn down a place that has bad memories? Done before you could mention it.

No one went near Ace when the missing people news started getting known, knowing how cold he got when it came to that, they tried to warn you how cold he could be.

You always laugh it off and hang out with him anyways.

He'd act like nothing was happening.

Why read the news when you already know it before anyone else?

You wake up from your nap when you started hearing the news "Mmmh?" Ace turns off the Tv "Don't worry about it my love just go back to sleep."

Sabo

Sabo was the second in command of a powerful business.

Once you joined everything changed.

However unlike the other three Sabo wouldn't kill, no. Sabo wouldn't want his hand or gloves dirty and blood stains too.

Sabo would figure out your favorite things to do and food and everything and give it all to you.

He'd spoil you with everything you'd ever wanted.

He'd help you with a lot of things

He sublely manipulates you into being dependent on him and him alone.

No one would dare go near you if they cared for their job or reputation.

No one went near Sabo either, Sabo didn't mind this, it just meant he could give all his attention to you.

He tested it once day by hiding on purpose.

When you realized Sabo wasn't there you got really nervous and got a bit upset, until Sabo popped

 up and helped you again which you immediately calmed down when he did.

Sabo smiled at you, he was glad that his plan was working and working well.

"Please don't leave me alone..." "I promise I won't ever again my angel..." "Thank you Sabo." "Anything for you. My sweet Angel."

[itsvelyria]

"new years eve with the boys"

Charles Leclerc

the festive chaos envelops the Leclerc home, everyone having gathered to watch the countdown. bubbles of champagne dissolves in your mouth as you giggle over shared jokes with a friend. hollers of "10, 9, 8"s shocks you, whirling to watch the numbers flash a touch too brightly on the TV screen. "7, 6, 5," has you craning your head over the exhilarated crowd, struggling to find charles. you wonder if he's somewhere outside as someone shouts "4, 3" right into your eardrum. now you're half sure you're deaf as the tipsy mess screams the final numbers. a muscular arm finds its way around your waist, twirling you round to meet the eyes of your much-missed boyfriend. "happy new year," he whispers along with the rest of your loved ones, soft lips meeting yours to celebrate a new beginning with your love.

Carlos Sainz

carlos steps onto the red carpet, polished loafers gleaming black against the textured fabric. his hair is coiffed and a watch that costs a little too much on his wrist. but all that pales in comparison to the jewel on his arm. an air of sophistication surrounds you two as you attend a glamorous new year's eve gala for ferrari. the elegant event has celebrities you had only seen through screens milling around, dressed in stylish attires. your partner turn heads with his charismatic presence, grinning at cameras with his boyish smile. in the buzz of lively conversations and artistically plated food, you clink glasses with people whose names go right over your head. when dawn breaks, all you can recall is carlos' voice calling you his and all you can care about is the expanse of warm golden skin beneath your head.

Danny Ricciardo

the dark colour of the ocean should scare you but all attention is drawn to the huge bonfire in the centre of the sandy shores — the heart of danny's new year's eve celebration. the beach is a turquoise canvas that has been painted with shades of relaxation, with the rhythmic sound of waves and the crackling fire creating a carefree atmosphere. friends and acquaintances huddle together in groups, boisterous laughter intertwining with the music that echoes along the shoreline. you perch on a washed-up piece of driftwood nursing a beer, watching the bonfire flames dance against the night sky, casting playful shadows on daniel’s face as he goofs around with his friends. cheers sound against the crashing waves as a chugging competition begins, your boyfriend at the heart of the chaos. and even in the midst of it all, he manages to pull his gaze away to search for yours, a bright smile crossing his face when he notices your attention already on him, waving you over.

George Russell

in a last-minute attempt to avoid the holiday craze in London, you and george decide escape to the secluded beaches of Koh Samui, far away from the adrenaline that seems to pump through everyone’s veins during this period. on the serene beaches, far from the public eye, you send off a selfie you two took lying yesterday with the stunning fireworks. a reply shoots back quickly from your mother, a thumbs up and heart. putting the phone aside, your attention turns to your boyfriend who is fast asleep beside you on a hotel towel, having fully embraced the peaceful surroundings. burning the image of your boyfriend in a state of tranquility, you decide you quite like him here, not needing to share him with the rest of the world and all for you.

Lando Norris

in the heart of new york, the city that never sleeps, someone had done a fantastic job turning their apartment in a haven for celebration. the floor length windows was recently polished in preparation for viewing of the ball drop and fireworks. the cityscape was stunning, the lights in almost all the building windows – everyone awake to ring in the new year with their loved ones. a familiar hand proffers a beer at you and you take it gratefully. the heavy arm slings over your shoulders, a familiar weight, and pulls you closer to its owner. lando presses a long kiss to the side of your head, silent words telling you he had missed you in the few minutes away. and in the countdown that would come soon, he would cup your face in his cold hands, ignoring the shivers that ran down your spine, and kiss you with an intensity that seemed to grow with every exchange.

Lewis Hamilton

lewis, in classic hard-working fashion, has orchestrated an exclusive charity gala, the festive spirit of the date infused with purpose. the sophisticated venue had been adorned in blues and greens, with the flair of a charitable celebration. influential figures and friends gather, floor length gowns and full suits bringing an air of sophistication. as his partner, you find yourself at the main table, beaming as he takes the stage, not only as a host but as a force for change, raising funds for a cause dear to his heart. if being with lewis has taught you anything, it was that your support and presence meant more to him than any present you could gift. and you have grown to love the man and all his ambitions and dreams. but if you find yourself in the backseat of a car later, being thanked by a barrage of kisses, it would be your little bonus.

Max Verstappen

max opts for a quiet night in, a private new year’s celebration with just the two of you. he had spent the day setting up the apartment, delicately strung fairy lights on windows and a lit scented candle he had found somewhere near the TV. the flickering candlelight on the dining table between two intimate place settings giving rise to an house of warmth and mellowness. as the clock ticks toward midnight, max holds you close, his deep breathing music to your ears, unknowing of how it feels like a drug on you. the cloying scent of vanilla marks the moment and the calming joy of the evening is found in the simplicity of shared memories, tender smiles, and the promise of a new year together.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Cost of Entry - sangi *300 followers special*

andddd here it is! thank you so, so much for 300 followers! it means everything to me! I love every single one of you 🤍

pairing: mafia leaders!sangi × fem!reader

genre: 18+, mafia au, filth

summary: you just wanted a break from everything.. and you decide to sneak in the VIP section. One of the best choices in your life.. despite the dangers lurking in.

wc: 9.4k (half plot/half smut)

warnings: mafia au, possessive and controlled!san, drunk and teasy!mingi, bratty f!reader, drunken confession (mingi), teasing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol ingestion (mingi), drunk sex (mingi was wasted), lots of cum, multiple orgasms, san eats her out, mingi is loud, san is a calm controlled storm until he isn't and mingi is ravished all over, enemies to lovers slightly more like forbidden encounter, double penetration, 3some, a singular degradation *slut*, choking, head pushing, oral (f and mingi receiving), manhandling, bulge kink (the one where reader gets turned on by seeing.. mingi’s bulge), size kink, some making out, some praise, unprotected (wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I feel like I improved so much since I first started writing... and it’s been a while since then 🥹 I don't care about the following whatsoever, but seeing all of you like, reblog, and appreciate my work is so fulfilling for me. School and life in general have been shit these past couple of months, starting with October, and I'm so grateful for everyone that waited for the kinktober fics 😭 I know it took me ages to write them but, hey! we're done, and I hope all my readers have had time to read everything ^^ watch out for three requests and one New Year's Eve Special (it's gonna be steamy 🤗)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the reality of the members in any way.

The club was alive with an almost oppressive energy, and the air was thick with heat, sweat, and the faint sting of alcohol, mingling into something intoxicating. People moved like shadows across the dance floor, their faces blurred under flashing lights and clouds of smoke. The space was designed to disorient, to make you forget time and place.

You hadn’t planned to end up here.

Your life had been spiraling lately—work stress, personal struggles, and the kind of exhaustion that made everything feel heavier. Tonight, you’d needed a change, an escape from the suffocating routine of your life. But as you wove your way through the crowd, sober and increasingly overwhelmed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t quite fit.

And then you saw it—the VIP section.

It was set apart from the rest of the club, a raised platform encircled by a sleek black rope. The lighting was softer there, casting an ambient glow over the space. Plush leather couches and polished tables hinted at luxury, while the guests seated within exuded something else entirely—an aura of power. It wasn’t the kind of wealth that came from successful businesses or old money; this was something sharper, more dangerous.

You didn’t know the specifics, but you’d heard whispers. The people who occupied those seats weren’t just rich; they were the kind of people you wouldn't usually meet. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t get too close.

But tonight, curiosity—or maybe desperation—got the better of you.

You watched the bouncers for a moment, waiting until one of them turned to speak to someone at the entrance. Then, with your heart hammering in your chest, you ducked under the rope. It was a calculated risk, but as you stepped into the VIP section, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The music was still present, but muted, as though the space itself demanded quiet. The people here weren’t shouting over the bass like the crowd below; their conversations were low and deliberate.

You hesitated, your steps faltering as your eyes scanned the room.

That’s when you saw them.

Two men occupied the largest couch, a bottle of expensive whiskey on the table between them. They were seated with a kind of confidence that drew attention without effort, the kind of presence that made everyone else fade into the background.

The man on the left, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, exuded control. His dark hair was slicked back, and his sharp jawline caught the light as he leaned back in his seat. His gaze was steady and piercing, scanning the room like he was cataloging every threat, every movement. Something about him was almost surgical in its precision, his presence commanding without needing to speak.

The other man was a striking contrast. His posture was looser, his energy more chaotic. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a hint of tattoos beneath. He held his drink lazily, swirling the liquid as he leaned forward to say something to his companion. Where the first man was sharp and quiet, this one was wild, his energy buzzing beneath the surface like a storm waiting to break.

They were magnetic.

You didn’t know who they were, not exactly, but you didn’t need to. The air around them crackled with something electric, and your instincts screamed at you to turn back. These were not men you messed with. But before you could make your escape, their attention shifted.

The man in the suit noticed you first. His gaze snapped to you, sharp as a blade, and you froze under the weight of it. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was cold, calculated.

“Someone’s feeling brave,” he murmured, his voice smooth and quiet but carrying an edge that made your pulse race.

His companion followed his gaze, his expression twisting into something halfway between amusement and curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes raked over you. “Well, well,” he drawled, his voice rough and teasing. “What’s this? Lost your way, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, your voice catching in your throat before you managed to find words. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just... I needed a break.”

The suited man tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “A break,” he echoed, as though the word was unfamiliar to him.

“From what?” his companion pressed, his tone almost playful.

“I—” You hesitated, feeling their eyes on you, dissecting you. “From everything.”

The man in the suit leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his knuckles as he studied you. “Interesting choice of refuge,” he remarked, his voice soft but cutting.

His companion chuckled, low and rough, as he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and poured a generous amount into an empty glass. “You know what they say: When in Rome.” He slid the glass toward you, his smirk widening. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

You stared at the glass, your mind racing.

“She doesn’t drink,” the suited man observed, his gaze never leaving you.

You met his eyes, your voice steadier than you felt. “How do you know that?”

His smirk deepened. “You’re still standing upright, and your shoes are in one piece.”

San's words lingered in the air, his sharp gaze still locked onto yours. There was a weight to his presence that made it hard to look away, as if he was silently daring you to say something—anything—that might amuse him. Mingi, on the other hand, was all energy and movement, the chaos to San’s calm. He leaned back with a smirk, his glass dangling loosely between his fingers as he looked at you like you were the night’s entertainment.

“Cat got your tongue?” Mingi teased, his deep voice carrying just enough bite to make your cheeks flush.

You squared your shoulders, willing yourself not to let their intensity overwhelm you. “I didn’t realize needing a break required permission,” you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low chuckle. “Feisty. I like her.”

San didn’t smile, but there was a glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes. “You should choose your words carefully,” he said, his tone calm but cold. “You’re in a space where even the smallest mistake can have... consequences.”

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “Noted.”

Mingi set his glass down with a deliberate clink, then rose from his seat. He was tall—taller than you’d realized—and every step he took toward you felt like a test. When he reached your side, he sat down on the couch, the leather creaking softly under his weight. His broad shoulders and long legs made the space feel impossibly small, his proximity overwhelming.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Mingi asked, his voice low as he leaned closer. He didn’t wait for an answer, instead reaching for the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another drink.

Your pulse quickened as his thigh brushed against yours, the heat of his body seeping into you. He didn’t touch you outright, but the way his arm draped over the back of the couch—his fingers just inches from your shoulder—made it clear he was testing boundaries.

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’ve had enough.”

Mingi snorted, swirling the whiskey in his glass before downing it in one gulp. “I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” He set the glass down with more force this time.

“Mingi.” San’s voice was sharper now, carrying an authority that made the air feel heavier. “Enough.”

Mingi ignored him, his attention fully on you now. His hand brushed your shoulder, his touch deliberate as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re awfully quiet for someone bold enough to crash our table,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing.

You shivered under his gaze, unsure whether it was fear or something else entirely.

“Mingi,” San said again, his voice colder this time. “Stop. You’re scaring her.”

But before Mingi could respond, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay.”

San’s sharp gaze snapped to you, his expression unreadable. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming as you whispered, “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin returned, this time more feral. He turned back to San, gesturing at you with a lazy wave of his hand. “See? She’s fine.” Then he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief and menace as he added, “Not like she had much of a choice anyway. She’s in our territory now, and what’s in our territory...” He let the words hang in the air for a moment before finishing with a smirk, “...is ours to play with.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, the weight of their meaning pressing down on you.

San’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at Mingi. “That’s enough.”

Mingi only laughed, the sound low and dangerous, as he sat back and grabbed the bottle of whiskey again. “Relax, San. You’re always so uptight. She’s not running.”

You glanced between them, your heart racing as the tension crackled like a live wire.

Mingi’s body was a furnace beside you, radiating heat as he poured himself yet another glass of whiskey. His movements were slower now, less precise, but his grin was as sharp as ever. You could tell he was far gone—the slight slur to his words, the way his fingers occasionally fumbled for the glass—but it didn’t seem to bother him.

San, on the other hand, was the picture of control. He sipped his drink slowly, his sharp eyes flicking between you and Mingi like a predator assessing the situation.

“You’re really not going to join in?” Mingi teased, leaning back against the couch and spreading his legs a little wider. His arm stretched out behind you, his fingertips brushing your shoulder as he spoke. “You’re missing out, San. She’s... something else.”

San arched a brow, his lips quirking in a faint smirk. “Unlike you, I know how to pace myself.”

Mingi chuckled, the sound rough and low as he turned his attention back to you. “Pacing is fucking overrated.” His hand drifted lower, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

The club around you seemed to fade into the background, the music a dull thrum as Mingi’s touch became more deliberate. His fingers brushed against your waist, testing, teasing. You froze for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. And then you saw it—a noticeable bulge forming in his pants, pressing against the fabric.

Your cheeks burned, and you tried to look away, but your eyes kept flicking back to it. Mingi caught the direction of your gaze and grinned, leaning closer so his breath tickled your ear. “See something you like?”

Your hand trembled as it moved, almost of its own accord, resting lightly on his thigh. His grin faltered for a split second, surprise flickering in his eyes before it was replaced with something darker, hungrier.

San let out a low chuckle, drawing your attention back to him. “Brave,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “But you shouldn’t be here. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

You frowned, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. “And why is that?”

San leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his dark eyes bore into yours. “Because we’re not the kind of men you walk away from,” he said, his tone cold and deliberate. “We’re mafia leaders, sweetheart. Every choice you make with us has consequences.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you could fully process them, Mingi let out a bark of laughter. “Mafia leaders, consequences... You’re scaring her, San.” He turned to you, his hand sliding a little higher on your waist as he smirked. “Don’t listen to him. You’re already here. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

San’s gaze flicked to Mingi, his expression unreadable. “You’re not exactly helping your case, Mingi.”

Mingi ignored him, his focus entirely on you. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts. “You know,” he said, his voice rough and slurred, “you’re driving me insane. The way you walked in here like you owned the place... That bold little attitude of yours. And don’t even get me started on this body.” His hand squeezed your waist gently, his fingers pressing into your skin. “Your waist, your thighs, those perfect—”

“Mingi,” San interrupted, his voice sharp, though there was an edge of amusement in his tone.

“What?” Mingi shot back, his grin widening as he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m just being honest. She deserves to know how fucking gorgeous she is.”

You felt your heart racing, the heat of Mingi’s words and touch sending a confusing mix of adrenaline and desire coursing through you. Your gaze darted to San, whose smirk deepened as he leaned back, watching the scene unfold like it was some sort of game.

“She doesn’t belong here,” San said after a moment, his tone soft but firm. “And if she has any sense, she’ll leave before it’s too late.”

Mingi let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Too late for what? She’s already in our territory.” His hand moved again, brushing lightly against your hip as his grin turned wicked. “And as I said.. what’s in our territory... is ours.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his rough, drunken demeanor making the statement feel both dangerous and thrilling. San’s expression shifted slightly, his smirk fading as he studied your reaction.

“Well?” San asked, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Do you want to stay?”

Your hand tightened slightly on Mingi’s thigh, your body betraying you even as your mind screamed at you to be careful. You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Mingi’s grin widened, and he let out a low growl of approval. “Smart girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “I knew you’d be fun.”

San chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

San’s glass clinked softly as he set it down on the table, the whiskey within barely touched. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as he rose from his seat. The room seemed to shift around him, his presence commanding enough to silence even Mingi’s drunken teasing.

He stopped directly in front of you, looming but not overbearing, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. For a moment, he simply stared, his expression unreadable, the corners of his lips twitching as though he were debating whether to smirk or scowl.

Then, without warning, he reached for the whiskey bottle, filling his glass to the brim. He tilted his head back and downed the entire thing in one smooth motion, his throat working as the liquid disappeared. When he lowered the glass, his dark eyes met yours, burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

San leaned down, his face inches from yours. His hand brushed the back of the couch, caging you in without touching you. His voice was low, a near-whisper that somehow drowned out the pounding bass of the club.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Sneaking in here, testing us. But let me make one thing clear.” He paused, his lips barely brushing your skin as he spoke again, each word slow and deliberate. “You’ll regret it if you mistake this for mercy. I am not the man who lets you walk away unscathed.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, his tone dripping with something dark and forbidden. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, caught in the gravity of his presence. And then, just as suddenly as he leaned in, he straightened, his face an unreadable mask once more.

“Enough,” San said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze flicked to Mingi, who was still leaning against you, his hand idly tracing circles on your hip. “Stop.”

Mingi scowled, his drunken grin faltering for the first time. “What’s your problem, San? She’s fine.”

San’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he turned away, pulling his phone from his pocket. “She’s coming with us.”

Before you could fully process his words, San pressed the phone to his ear, speaking in clipped tones. “Bring the car around. Now.”

The command was brief but absolute, and you didn’t doubt that whoever was on the other end of the call would obey without question. San hung up and turned back to the two of you, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Mingi groaned but obeyed, standing and stretching lazily before offering you a hand. You hesitated for a second, glancing at San, who watched you. Finally, you took Mingi’s hand, and he helped you to your feet, his grip lingering just a little too long.

The three of you made your way through the VIP section, San leading the way with his usual precision and control. The club seemed to part around him, the crowd instinctively moving aside as he passed. Mingi stayed close to your side, his hand brushing yours occasionally, whether by accident or design, you weren’t sure.

When you reached the exit, a sleek black car was already waiting at the curb. The chauffeur stepped out to open the door, bowing his head slightly as San climbed in first.

Mingi gestured for you to follow, his grin returning as he leaned down to whisper, “After you, princess.”

You slid into the car, the cool leather seats a sharp contrast to the heat of the club. San was already seated, his gaze fixed out the window, his profile sharp in the dim light. Mingi climbed in after you, the door closing with a soft thud as the car pulled away from the curb.

The tension in the car was palpable, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. Mingi shifted beside you, his knee brushing against yours as he leaned back, his arm draping casually over the seat behind you.

San’s gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, catching your reflection for a brief moment before he looked away again. “This isn’t a game,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You’re in over your head.”

Mingi laughed, the sound rough and carefree. “Don’t scare her off, San. She’s more fun than half the people we deal with.”

San didn’t respond, his focus returning to the city lights streaming past the window. You glanced between them, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“Relax,” Mingi murmured, his hand resting lightly on your thigh. His touch was warm, almost soothing, but the glint in his eyes was anything but. “We’re just getting started.”

The car continued its smooth journey, the cityscape blurring as you wondered what exactly you had just stepped into.

In the dim, confined space of the car, you shifted slightly, catching San’s reflection in the tinted window. He sat stiffly, his gaze fixed outside, the sharp angles of his jaw tightening every few moments. You could tell he was irritated—whether it was at you, Mingi, or the entire situation, you weren’t sure.

But something about his restrained demeanor, the tension radiating off him in waves, made you bold. Maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from sneaking into their space, or maybe it was the effect of Mingi’s earlier touch still tingling on your skin. Either way, you couldn’t resist.

“So, San,” you began, your voice light and teasing as you crossed your legs, the movement subtle but deliberate. “Always this uptight, or is it just when women crash your little mafia clubhouse?”

Mingi barked out a laugh, his arm still stretched lazily over the back of the seat. “She’s got a mouth on her, huh? I like it.”

San turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours in the reflection. “Careful,” he warned, his voice quiet but dangerous.

You leaned forward just a bit, your smirk growing. “Or what? You’ll lecture me again? Maybe I should take notes. You seem like the type who likes to be... in control.”

The corner of Mingi’s mouth twitched as he tried to stifle another laugh, clearly enjoying the show. San, however, didn’t react immediately, his silence only fueling your determination.

“I mean,” you continued, feigning innocence as you leaned back against the seat, “you’re all about consequences, right? But it makes me wonder...” You let your gaze trail over him, slow and deliberate. “What would it take to get you to lose that cool composure of yours?”

San’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening briefly on the edge of his seat. The way he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring just slightly, told you you’d struck a nerve. Good.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of an imposing apartment building, its sleek façade gleaming under the city lights. San stepped out first, his movements stiff and controlled, as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. You followed, with Mingi stumbling slightly as he climbed out after you, muttering something about the uneven curb.

Inside the lobby, the tension didn’t ease. The three of you moved toward the elevator, Mingi swaying slightly as he leaned against the wall while San pressed the call button. The soft ding of the elevator’s arrival broke the silence, and the doors slid open.

The ride up was quiet at first. San pressed the button for the 25th floor, the soft hum of the elevator filling the small space. Mingi leaned against the corner, his head tipped back against the wall, but his drunken grin hadn’t faded.

You stood between them, your heart pounding as you stole a glance at San. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Then the doors closed, and something in San snapped.

In one swift motion, he turned toward you, his hand reaching up to grip your jaw—not harshly, but firmly enough to make you gasp. He tilted your head up, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a fire that burned through every ounce of control he’d been holding onto.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he growled, his voice low and rough, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

His free hand ghosted over your throat, his fingers barely brushing your skin as he leaned in, his lips so close you could feel the heat of his breath.

“You wanted to piss me off?” he continued, his tone both dangerous and unbearably sensual. “Congratulations. You did.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip tightening slightly as he added, “But let me make one thing clear—you don’t play games with me unless you’re ready for the consequences.”

Your breath hitched, your mind spinning as his words sank in. Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding, as though he was determined to claim every ounce of control you’d tried to take from him.

His kiss was a contradiction—hot and cold, restrained and wild. His hand remained on your throat, his fingers flexing just enough to remind you of the power he held without crossing a line.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against yours. “You drive me fucking insane,” he murmured, his voice raw. “That mouth of yours, the way you look at me like you’re daring me to lose control... You have no idea what you’ve started.”

Behind you, Mingi let out a low whistle, breaking the moment. “Damn, San. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

San straightened, his gaze never leaving yours as he ignored Mingi’s comment. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before stepping back, his composure slipping back into place like a mask.

The elevator dinged, signaling your arrival at the 25th floor. San gestured for you to step out first, his expression unreadable once more.

“Let’s go,” he said, his tone clipped but softer than before.

You stepped out of the elevator, your heart still racing as you followed them down the hallway. Whatever you’d walked into tonight, you knew one thing for certain—you weren’t walking away unscathed.

San’s demeanor changed the moment the door to the penthouse swung open. The space was vast and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Sleek black leather furniture contrasted with the warm tones of wood paneling, and a massive crystal chandelier hung above the open living area, its light casting intricate patterns on the marble floor.

But none of it mattered—because as soon as the door clicked shut, San turned to you with a look that could melt steel.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not painful, as he pulled you through the space. You caught glimpses of the penthouse as he led you—an open kitchen with gleaming stainless-steel appliances, a curved staircase leading to a second level, and finally, a door at the end of a hallway.

San pushed it open, revealing a massive bedroom. The centerpiece was a king-sized bed with a dark gray headboard, framed by sleek black nightstands. The room was minimalist but luxurious, the kind of place that radiated power and control.

Before you could take it all in, San was on you. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around and backing you toward the bed. The edge of the mattress hit the backs of your knees, and he didn’t give you time to steady yourself before his hands moved to your shoulders, pushing you down with controlled force.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said, his voice a low growl as he loomed over you. His dark eyes burned with a mix of anger and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. “Waltzing into my world, running that mouth of yours. Do you even understand what kind of fire you’re playing with?”

You met his gaze, refusing to back down even as your pulse raced. “Maybe I like the fire,” you shot back, your voice sharper than you expected. “Maybe I want to see just how far I can push you.”

San’s jaw clenched, his hands gripping the edge of the bed on either side of you. “You think this is a game?” he said, his voice cold and biting. “You think you can just walk into my territory, challenge me, and get away with it?”

Your lips curved into a smirk, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “What if I do?”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. Then, Mingi’s voice broke through, lazy and amused.

“Now this,” Mingi drawled, leaning against the doorframe with his usual casual confidence, “is entertaining.”

You turned your head to look at him, and your breath caught. Mingi had stripped off his shirt, revealing a body that was all hard muscle and tattoos. His skin glistened slightly, the faint sheen catching the light as he crossed his arms over his chest.

His gaze dropped to the bulge straining against his pants, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing over it lazily. “San,” he said, his voice laced with mockery, “you’re hogging all the fun.”

San didn’t look at him, his focus remaining solely on you. “She’s the one who wanted to test me,” he said, his tone dark. “And I’m going to make sure she understands exactly what that means.”

Mingi smirked, pushing off the doorframe as he sauntered into the room. “Be my guest,” he said, his fingers teasing at the waistband of his pants. “But don’t take too long. I’m not exactly a patient man.”

San finally looked at him, his expression hard. “Stay out of this,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Whatever you say, boss.” But his eyes drifted back to you, his gaze heavy and full of unspoken promise.

Your breath hitched as San’s gaze returned to you, his hand brushing against your jaw in a touch that was both possessive and almost tender.

“You wanted this,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t forget that.”

San’s hands gripped the edge of the bed with enough force to leave marks in the sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as if trying to read your every thought. The way his gaze darkened, the slightest shift in his posture, told you everything—you had pushed him to the edge, and now there was no turning back.

You could feel the heat radiating between the three of you, Mingi leaning against the doorframe with a wicked grin that only fueled the fire. He sauntered toward the bed, his presence almost magnetic. His gaze roamed over you, his eyes lingering on your every curve, drinking you in. His fingers twitched, as if testing the waters, before his hand settled on your arm, warm and possessive.

San watched every move Mingi made, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. He was too far gone—his control slipping, his desire too raw and evident in the air. He was trying to contain it, but the force of it all was starting to unravel him.

Without warning, Mingi’s hands moved to your shoulders, his fingers brushing over your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so fucking good,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust and amusement.

You shivered, your body reacting involuntarily to the heated touch. You tried to suppress the tremble in your voice as you met Mingi’s teasing gaze. “Is that what you want, Mingi? To watch me squirm?”

Mingi chuckled softly, low and deep, his fingers lightly tracing the neckline of your shirt. “You don’t know how much I enjoy watching you try to fight it,” he said, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened further. “You’ve got a fire in you, and I can’t wait to see how far it burns.”

San’s jaw tightened, a flicker of possessiveness flashing in his eyes, but he stayed silent, watching. He wasn’t backing down—he was waiting for something, for you to push him further, maybe.

You wanted to respond, to fire back, but your thoughts scattered as Mingi's hands shifted lower, finding the hem of your shirt. His fingers tugged at the fabric, pulling it up slowly, deliberately. The cool air of the room hit your skin as your shirt was discarded to the side.

Before you could process the situation, San moved, his body shifting with an almost predatory grace. His eyes never left you as he reached for the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a sense of urgency that surprised you. He was just as affected, just as hungry.

“You’re mine,” San growled, his voice rough, filled with something primal. He pushed you back against the bed with just enough force to make you gasp, the heat of his body pressing against yours as he loomed over you. “And I won’t let anyone forget that.”

Mingi’s voice cut through the air again, but this time there was no teasing in it, only admiration as his gaze dropped to your chest. “You didn’t tell me about these,” he murmured, his eyes flashing with something like appreciation. “Damn, you’re perfect.”

San’s eyes flicked to Mingi then, a hard, sharp glance that had the younger man holding his tongue for a second. He knew the territory; San had already marked his claim in the club, and it was clear now who had the upper hand.

“I said stop talking about her body like that,” San snapped, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint still in his eyes, “Alright, alright, I get it. You’ve got her.”

San’s grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers moving with the same deliberate intensity he’d shown earlier. His gaze never left you, he stood over you, fully exposed, his muscles tense and rippling as he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss. It wasn’t soft; it wasn’t tender. It was rough, commanding, a mark of ownership.

He pulled back for a split second, his breath hot against your cheek as he muttered, “You don’t know what you do to me.”

In that moment, you knew exactly what he meant—everything about you drove him wild. And now, there was no way out. The tension had broken, the line had been crossed. The storm had begun, and you were caught in its eye.

“Don’t you dare play games with me,” San murmured, his voice low and dangerously quiet, a thread of restraint running through it. “You’re in my world now.” His grip on your wrists tightened just enough to remind you of who was in control, his other hand moving to undo your pants with the same cold precision.

You held your breath as the fabric slid down your legs, leaving you exposed beneath the harshness of his touch. But even then, you didn’t look away. You felt the pulse of electricity between you—his power, his control, and your own challenge to it.

Mingi, still lingering by, watched with a smirk that never faltered. His hand brushed over his chest as he approached, his gaze flicking from you to San, then back to you with a teasing glint in his eye.

“You’re really not going to let me have any fun, are you?” Mingi said, his voice playful but carrying an underlying heat.

San’s response was a sharp glance that silenced Mingi for a moment. But then, with a barely-there nod, he signaled for Mingi to move closer. Mingi’s smirk grew as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a teasing whisper. “Don’t think we’re done here. You wanted to get under his skin, didn’t you? Now you’ll see what happens when you do.”

His words hung in the air as he pulled back, allowing San to take the lead once again. You barely had time to process before San’s lips were on your thighs, his touch firm and deliberate as he kissed and trailed his lips up your skin. His breath was hot against your flesh, and you could feel the intensity of his presence, his hunger for control, in every movement.

“You want me to stop?” San’s voice was low, almost a growl, as his lips hovered just above your skin.

It wasn’t a question you could answer easily, not with the fire coursing through your veins. Your body betrayed you, trembling with anticipation, your pulse racing with every subtle touch, every whispered command. You fought to hold onto your composure, but it was slipping, bit by bit.

Mingi, watching all of this unfold, let out a low chuckle, clearly amused by the sight of you trying to stay in control while San worked his power over you. “She’s got a fire,” Mingi muttered to himself, leaning casually against the wall.

San, hearing his words, shot a glance at Mingi, his jaw tight. “She’s in my hands now,” he said, his tone laced with something possessive. “And she’ll learn what it means to be tested.”

San’s gaze never wavered, his focus entirely on you. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with tension as his fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your face so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. His voice dropped to a low rumble, the weight of his authority palpable. “Eyes on me. You don’t get to shy away now.”

Mingi moved closer, his presence as heavy as San’s, though tinged with a teasing energy that made your heart race. He settled beside you, his hand brushing against your shoulder, a touch both gentle and possessive. “You’re holding back,” Mingi murmured, his voice like a soft hum against your skin. “Why don’t you show us what you’re really capable of?”

San smirked at Mingi’s words, his expression dark with satisfaction. “She will,” he replied confidently, his hands steady as they skimmed over your thighs, his grip tightening just enough to draw your attention fully back to him. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mingi, not to be outdone, shed his remaining clothing as well, his smirk never faltering as he took his place beside you.

San chuckled, his hands returning to your hips, pulling you closer with a firm but careful tug. “She’ll take everything we give her. Won’t you?” His words were a challenge, laced with something possessive, his tone daring you to deny him.

Your breath hitched, and San leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispered, “Don’t fight it. Let me see how much you can handle.” His fingers dug into your sides slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that he was in control.

Mingi’s hand trailed down your arm, his touch light but deliberate, sending a shiver through you. “I think she’s ready.”

San smirked, leaning back just enough to lock eyes with you. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and commanding. “She’s not done proving herself to me.”

The cool sheets beneath you were a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your skin as San positioned himself between your legs, his movements deliberate and brimming with purpose. His sharp eyes drank in every inch of you, a reverent smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough yet warm, carrying a weight of appreciation that sent a shiver through your entire body. “How can someone be this breathtaking?”

His words, so unexpectedly tender, made your breath hitch.

On your right, Mingi knelt with a smirk that was anything but soft. His dark eyes roamed over you, his expression hungry, though laced with mischief. “Breathtaking, huh?” he drawled, one hand resting on your side, his thumb brushing over your ribs. “That’s one way to put it. But I’d call her... delicious.”

His teasing tone made your cheeks burn, but before you could respond, San’s voice cut through, steady and commanding. “Careful, Mingi,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a faint edge in his tone. “This isn’t about you.”

Mingi raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin widening. “Relax, San. I’m just admiring your masterpiece.”

San turned his attention back to you, his expression softening as he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin gently. “Ignore him,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble meant just for you. “Right now, you gotta focus on me."

The weight of his words settled in your chest, grounding you. But then, San’s lips curved into a wicked smile, and his hands tightened on your thighs, spreading them a little wider. “Actually,” he murmured, his tone taking on a darker edge, “I have an idea.”

You blinked up at him, your body already reacting to the shift in his demeanor. “An idea?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

San’s smirk grew, his hands trailing down your thighs with deliberate slowness. “I’ll show you just how much I want you,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with intent. “And Mingi here can... keep himself occupied.”

Mingi raised a brow, his grin turning sharper. “Occupied, huh?” he echoed, his gaze flicking between you and San. Then his attention locked onto you, his smirk softening just slightly. “You wouldn’t mind helping me out, would you?”

The intensity in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you barely had time to process his words before San leaned down, his breath warm against your thigh. “It’s not really a question,” San murmured, his voice dripping with authority. “You’ll do exactly what I say, won’t you?”

His confidence left no room for hesitation, and your body answered before your mind could catch up, your breath hitching as you nodded. San chuckled, the sound low and rich as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl, or may I say.. good slut? That's more like it." he whispered, the degrading praise sending a thrill through you

San’s hands tightened on your thighs, grounding you as he lowered himself further, his presence overwhelming and commanding all at once. “Keep your focus,” he ordered, his voice low but firm, even as his lips trailed closer to your cunt. “You don’t stop until I tell you to. Understood?”

The weight of his command left you breathless, and all you could do was nod.

The headboard was cool against your back, grounding you amidst the heat that filled the room.

“You’ll watch me, won’t you?” San murmured, his voice low and commanding. “Every little reaction you give belongs to me.”

Before you could respond, a hand brushed against your jaw, turning your attention upward. Mingi, his towering frame casting a shadow over you, stood by the side of the bed, his gaze locked onto yours with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. His smirk was a challenge, daring you to take control even as he exuded a quiet authority of his own.

“Don’t get distracted,” Mingi murmured, his voice smooth yet firm as he guided his cock closer, his confidence unwavering. He took your hand, his touch deliberate as he placed it at the base of it. “You’re going to be good for us, aren’t you?”

Your fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before wrapping around him, the weight of his command making your heart race. Slowly, you moved your hand along his cock, your palm brushing over every vein, feeling his breath hitch slightly as you teased him.

San chuckled darkly from between your thighs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watched. “Look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride. “Already falling into place like you were made for this.”

Mingi’s hand tightened on yours as he guided you further, his deep voice a steady presence above the storm San was creating. “That’s it,” he murmured, his tone equal parts encouragement and demand. “Just like that. Don’t hold back now.”

The tension in the room thickened as the sounds of your shallow breaths and soft whimpers intertwined with the low rumble of their voices. San’s grip on your thighs tightened as he leaned in. His lips finally reached the place you needed him most.

The first stroke of his tongue was unrelenting, both tender and possessive as though he wanted to draw every ounce of reaction from you. Your back arched against the headboard, a trembling whine escaping your lips, but it was quickly muffled by Mingi's cock.

He held your jaw gently, tilting your face so that his tip brushed against your parted lips. “Show me how good you can be.”

You took a shaky breath before wrapping your lips around it, your fingers curling at the base for balance as you began to move your head. The heat radiating from him was overwhelming, his low groans blending with your muffled whines as San’s movements became more precise.

San’s hands slid up your thighs, grounding you, anchoring you against the overwhelming sensations. “So responsive,” he muttered, his tone dripping with satisfaction. He pressed his mouth more firmly against you, his tongue working in slow, deliberate patterns that sent waves of electricity coursing through you.

Your cries reverberated around Mingi, the vibrations making his jaw tense as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head. “That’s it,” he groaned, his deep voice resonating through you. “You sound so pretty like that.”

San chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he mused, his voice muffled but no less commanding. “Taking everything we give her so beautifully.”

You couldn’t focus on anything but the push and pull between the two of them, the way Mingi’s deep groans matched the rhythm of San’s relentless attention. Every touch, every sound built the tension inside you higher, drawing you closer to the edge with a heady mix of roughness and sensual control.

San pulled back slightly, his lips glistening and his dark eyes sharp as they met yours. He let out a low, mocking chuckle that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your thighs never faltered, his thumbs pressing into your skin just enough to keep you firmly grounded in the moment.

“Here’s the deal,” San murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. “You don’t get to come until he does. Show me how good you are at taking care of him, and maybe I’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

Your wide, needy eyes met his, your body trembling from the intensity of his gaze and the deliberate tease of his hands on your skin. San leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he added, “Make him fall apart first, and I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

Mingi groaned softly at San’s words, his hand cupping your cheek to guide your attention back to him. “You heard him,” he said, his tone rough but lined with a teasing edge. “Show me how good you can be.”

Your resolve firmed despite the heat coursing through you, and you took Mingi deeper, the sound of your efforts mixing with his low, guttural groans. Your hand stroked him in time with your movements, your tongue trailing against him in a way that had his breath hitching. His free hand gripped the edge of the headboard, his control faltering with every deliberate flick of your tongue.

San watched with dark satisfaction, his hand sliding along your thigh as a silent reminder of his presence. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice smooth but edged with hunger. “You can do better than that. Make him feel it.”

You pushed yourself further, letting your lips tighten and your tongue tease, drawing a shuddering gasp from Mingi. His head tipped back, his grip on the headboard tightening as his breaths grew uneven. The sharp inhale he took before he came was punctuated by a low, satisfied groan, his body trembling as he filled your mouth with his cum.

San’s pleased hum was the only warning you got before he shifted you slightly, his hands moving to adjust your hips as he leaned in closer. “Good girl,” he murmured, his tone dripping with approval. “Now, let me give you what you’ve been waiting for.”

The first touch of his mouth was unrelenting, and your cry of relief was immediate. San worked with precision, his movements rough enough to leave you trembling but careful enough to draw every ounce of tension from your body. His hands held you in place, his grip firm as he pushed you closer to the edge.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as the waves of your orgasm finally crashed over you, your body arching against the headboard. You cried out, San’s name spilling from your lips as he carried you through every trembling moment, his hold never faltering.

As you came down from the high, San’s lips brushed against your thigh, his voice low and satisfied. “That’s how I want to hear you,” he said, his tone possessive but lined with pride. “Falling apart for me.”

Mingi’s deep voice rumbled from behind San, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “If San gets to have ideas, then I have one too,” he said, his tone smooth but carrying an undercurrent of mischief. He leaned back against the headboard, his broad frame radiating confidence as he continued, “What if we both take care of her?”

San froze for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considered Mingi’s bold proposition. But before he could respond, you felt the weight of Mingi’s gaze on you—curious, warm, and daring. It wasn’t until he noticed the flicker of excitement in your eyes, a spark you couldn’t hide, that his lips curved into a knowing grin.

San caught that spark too. He tilted his head, his initial hesitation melting into something darker, more intentional. “Interesting,” he muttered, his fingers still trailing along your thigh. “You’re into that, aren’t you?”

Your breath caught, the tension in the room thickening as Mingi made his move. Without waiting for further confirmation, he reached out, his strong hands finding your waist as he effortlessly guided you onto his lap. The shift was seamless, his strength evident as he settled you above him, his arms caging you in with a gentle but commanding grip.

Mingi’s voice was a low murmur as he tipped your chin up to meet his gaze. “Don’t be shy now,” he said, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “We’re just getting started.”

San moved behind you, his presence grounding you as his hands found your hips, steadying you against Mingi’s chest. The duality of their touches was overwhelming—Mingi’s hold firm and encompassing, San’s deliberate and teasing.

“You’re going to be good for both of us,” San said, his breath warm against your ear. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, a slow, deliberate movement that sent chills through you. “Let him see how much you want this.”

Mingi chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you as he shifted beneath you. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice a tantalizing promise. “We’ll take care of you.”

Their combined attention was intoxicating. Mingi’s hands spanned your waist, holding you close as San’s fingertips teased along your sides. Their coordination was seamless, their shared focus on you leaving no room for doubt.

Mingi tilted your chin down toward him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You’re ours tonight,” he murmured, his tone heavy with intent. His grip tightened slightly, his strength a silent reassurance as he added, “Let us show you how good it can be.”

Behind you, San’s hands slid along your body, his touch purposeful as he leaned in to press a lingering kiss against your neck. His lips curved into a smirk as he felt you shiver beneath him.

“Trust us,” San murmured, his voice a velvet promise, “and let go.”

Mingi’s grip on your waist tightened, his strength palpable as he held you effortlessly above him. His dark gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his expression making your breath hitch. With a slow, deliberate movement, he guided you down, your body trembling as he buried himself in you, his hips rolling upward with an undeniable authority.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice a low, tantalizing growl. His hands splayed wide on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he set the rhythm, his dominance radiating in every calculated move. “Take all of me. You’re not going anywhere.”

Behind you, San’s restraint was hanging by a thread. His fingers dug into your shoulders, the pressure almost bruising as he steadied you between them. The sound of your breathless whimpers seemed to snap something inside him, his control shattering as he thrust forward without warning. His movements were rough, almost desperate, his hips slamming into you with unrelenting force.

“You feel too good,” San growled, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you back against him as he drove deeper, each thrust more powerful than the last. “I can’t stop. Don’t even think about asking me to.”

Mingi chuckled darkly beneath you, his hands sliding up your sides to keep you upright as your body trembled. “He’s lost it,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement and pride. His thumbs pressed into your waist, his hold steadying you as he tilted his head back to watch the way your body responded to their relentless pace. “But you can take it, can’t you? You’re ours. We’ll make sure you do.”

Your legs threatened to give out entirely, the overwhelming intensity of their combined focus leaving you barely able to hold yourself up. Mingi’s grip on your waist grew even firmer, his strength keeping you steady as he thrust upward with a controlled power that left you gasping.

San, on the other hand, was a storm. His lips found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bit down gently, marking you with a possessive edge that left no doubt about his intentions. “You’re mine,” he growled against your ear, his voice rough and unyielding. “Ours. Don’t forget it.”

The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths, low groans, and the slap of skin as San and Mingi worked in perfect, chaotic tandem. Mingi’s hands slid up to cup your face, tilting your chin down so your eyes met his. “Look at me,” he commanded softly, his voice a dangerous mix of gentleness and authority. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Behind you, San growled in frustration, his pace growing even faster as he leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back. His hands moved to your waist, gripping tightly as he took over the rhythm, each thrust forcing a breathless cry from your lips.

“You’re perfect,” San muttered, his voice strained and full of raw hunger. “Made for us. Look at how you’re falling apart. Can’t even stand, can you?”

Mingi’s laughter rumbled beneath you, his arms wrapping around your trembling form to keep you steady as San continued his relentless assault. “She’s ours now,” Mingi said, his tone possessive and dripping with satisfaction. “Completely and utterly ours.”

They moved as one, their shared goal clear: to claim every part of you, to leave no inch of you untouched by their relentless intensity. Your body trembled in their grasp, every ounce of your strength surrendered to their combined power.

“Give in to us,” San growled, his breath hot against your ear as his movements grew even more forceful. “Let us ruin you.”

And you did—completely, utterly, and without hesitation. But they didn't falter. they didn't stop.

San, his chest rising and falling with each measured breath, leaned down toward you with a simmering heat in his gaze. Without a word, his hand reached out to harshly wrap around your neck, his fingers pressing in just enough to pull you closer to him. His grip was firm, as he slowly lifted you, bringing you flush against his chest.

San’s voice was a low murmur, soft but commanding, his lips grazing your ear. "Don’t forget who’s in control."

You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the way he held you, just barely choking you with his gentle pressure, made your body shiver.

Mingi, still inches deep inside, watched the scene unfold with a sly grin, his hands staying steady at your waist, making sure you felt both of their presence, unyielding but tender. He moved gently beneath you, adding to the slow, simmering rhythm of the moment.

Both men fucked you relentlessly through your orgasm until they were satisfied enough.. and that meant right when they filled both your holes up with their cum, mingling with your juices. A string of curses escaped Mingi’s lips as San lifted you up and softly placed you on the bed, your legs trembling and threatening to give out at any moment. You were dizzy, overstimulation hovering over as San leaned in, softly enough to give you a forehead kiss.

“How about a warm bath?" San asked softly, his fingers brushing your hair away from your face as he looked down at you with concern. His voice had softened, but the possessiveness remained in his tone, making you feel like you were still entirely his.

Mingi, ever the playful one, leaned back with a teasing grin. "If you’re getting the bath ready, don’t forget about me. I wouldn’t mind a round two in there," he said, his tone lighthearted, making you smile despite the tension that still lingered in the air.

San chuckled, brushing his lips against your forehead before offering you a hand. "Let’s get you in the bath first. You deserve a moment to relax." His touch was gentle now, his usual intensity replaced with a soothing calm.

The two of them guided you to the warm water, their care wrapping around you like a soft blanket, the playful teasing from. You.. for sure, didn't falter from their grip unscathed.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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

[amethystarachnid]

Can you write New Year’s Eve Countdown with Tony? Tony organized a party for all the Avengers, Tony and reader are in a “mutual pinning” situation and they’ll share their first kiss at midnight and promise to stay together forever as a New Year’s resolution 🤍🤍🤍 it’s for female reader

MIDNIGHT KISS

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.5k

ᯓ★ Summary: Y/N and Tony Stark share a mutual but unspoken attraction as they navigate a New Year’s Eve party filled with tension, playful flirting, and subtle jealousy. After a series of near-confessions and teasing moments, Tony finally gathers the courage to kiss Y/N at midnight, asking her to be his girlfriend as part of a New Year’s resolution.

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The Stark Tower is alive tonight, pulsing with energy as if the building itself knows the year is ending and something bigger is coming. The city skyline glitters just outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the top-floor lounge, a perfect backdrop for a party only Tony Stark could throw. You stand off to one side, a glass of champagne in hand, watching the room fill with some of the most powerful people on the planet. Quite literally.

Tony’s spared no expense, as usual. Golden lights drip from the ceiling like falling stars, illuminating the room in a warm, inviting glow. There’s a live jazz band playing in one corner, the music melting into the buzz of conversation and laughter. Waitstaff weave through the crowd with trays of expertly crafted hors d'oeuvres, and the bar is fully stocked with bottles that probably cost more than your rent. You shouldn’t be surprised. Stark’s New Year’s Eve parties are legendary, and this one seems determined to outdo all the rest.

You catch sight of Tony across the room, looking effortlessly sharp in a tailored suit that somehow manages to be both classic and undeniably him. His tie is slightly loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and the glint of his arc reactor peeks through the fabric like an open secret. He’s holding court, of course, surrounded by people hanging on his every word. The way he commands attention is almost hypnotic, like a gravitational pull you can’t resist.

He must feel your gaze because his eyes snap to yours suddenly, like a magnet locking in place. The smirk that spreads across his face is slow and deliberate, a challenge wrapped in charm. You take a sip of your champagne, feigning nonchalance, but your heart is beating faster, traitorous and uncooperative.

"Y/N!" Tony’s voice cuts through the air moments later, rich and teasing, like he knows exactly how to unsettle you. You blink, and suddenly he’s standing right in front of you, all charisma and mischief. "Looking good tonight. Is that new, or have I just been too distracted to notice?"

You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re always distracted, Stark. I’m surprised you even remembered my name.”

He laughs, a deep, genuine sound that sends a ripple through your chest. “How could I forget? You’re the one who keeps me on my toes. Besides,” he adds, leaning in just slightly, “it’s my job to notice when someone outshines my own party.”

The air between you tightens, crackling like the champagne in your glass. You glance around, looking for an escape route, but the room seems smaller now, the crowd fading into the periphery. It’s just you and Tony, standing too close and not close enough at the same time.

"Careful, Tony," you say, forcing a casual tone. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were flirting with me."

He tilts his head, considering you with a mock seriousness that’s entirely too disarming. "And if I was?"

Your breath catches for a split second, but you recover quickly, masking it with a smirk of your own. "Then I’d say you should work on your timing. There’s a whole party waiting for you to be the center of attention."

"Ah, but you see," he says, his voice dropping lower, "I’ve got everything I need right here."

A laugh escapes before you can stop it, and you shake your head. "Unbelievable."

"That’s what they say," he quips, straightening up but not stepping back. He gestures toward the bar. "Another drink? Or are you pacing yourself for midnight?"

You hesitate. This is dangerous territory, and you both know it. But there’s a thrill in the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing worth paying attention to in a room full of gods and heroes. Maybe just one more drink couldn’t hurt.

"Sure," you say, handing him your empty glass. "But make it something good. None of that cheap stuff you probably save for people who don’t know better."

His grin widens, all teeth and trouble. "As if I’d ever let you drink the cheap stuff."

You follow him to the bar, weaving through the crowd that seems to part effortlessly for Tony. He orders something in rapid-fire bartender lingo, and the mixologist nods, setting to work with a practiced efficiency. While you wait, Tony leans against the counter, his attention back on you.

"Having fun?" he asks, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

"It’s your party, Tony. How could I not?" you reply, dodging the weight of his gaze.

"That’s not an answer," he counters smoothly, his smirk returning. "Are you really having fun? Or are you just standing around, trying to pretend you don’t want to bolt?"

You sigh, leaning your elbow on the bar. "It’s a little overwhelming, okay? Half the room could level a city block with a flick of their wrist, and the other half probably have no idea who I am."

"I know who you are," he says, the flippant edge in his voice softening just slightly. "And trust me, nobody here could miss you if they tried."

Your cheeks heat again, and you’re saved only by the arrival of the drinks. Tony hands you a glass, and your fingers brush briefly against his. It’s nothing, just a moment, but it lingers, sending a jolt up your arm like static electricity. He doesn’t pull away immediately, and for a second, you wonder if he feels it too.

"Cheers," he says, his voice quieter now, more intimate. He raises his glass, and you tap yours lightly against it, the crystal ringing out like a bell.

"Cheers," you echo, taking a sip. The drink is perfect, just as you knew it would be, but you barely register the taste. Your mind is spinning, caught in the push and pull of whatever this is between you and Tony.

The band strikes up a livelier tune, and Tony’s face lights up with the kind of grin that usually means trouble. "Come on," he says, grabbing your hand before you can protest.

"Where are we going?" you ask, your voice rising slightly as he pulls you toward the makeshift dance floor.

"You’ll see," he says over his shoulder, his grip firm but not unpleasant.

When you reach the center of the room, he spins to face you, releasing your hand only to offer it again, palm up. "Dance with me."

"Tony—"

"Don’t overthink it," he interrupts, his expression unreadable but still magnetic. "It’s just a dance."

It’s never just anything with Tony Stark. But the challenge in his eyes is impossible to resist, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you place your hand in his.

The next few moments are a blur of movement and music, your world shrinking down to the rhythm and the feeling of his hand on your waist. He’s a better dancer than you expected—confident but not overbearing, playful but precise. You can feel his eyes on you, and every look sends your pulse into overdrive.

"See? Not so bad," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"Don’t get cocky," you shoot back, but your breathlessness undermines the bite.

"Too late," he says, spinning you out and pulling you back in with a flourish. The move leaves you dizzy, your balance tipping slightly as you crash back into him. His arm steadies you instantly, his hand splayed against your back in a way that feels far too intimate for a public setting.

"You okay?" he asks, his tone soft now, almost concerned.

"Yeah," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

You’re not sure how much longer the dance lasts, or even what song is playing anymore. All you know is the way Tony’s hand feels on yours, the way his smile makes your chest ache, and the way the space between you seems to disappear, little by little, until it feels like you’re the only two people in the room.

When the song ends, there’s a smattering of applause, and you step back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. You’re hyper-aware of the eyes on you now, curious and speculative, and you can’t decide if you’re relieved or disappointed when Tony takes a step back too.

"Not bad, Y/N," he says, his smirk back in full force. "I might have to make this a tradition."

"Don’t push your luck," you reply, but there’s no real bite to your words.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he says, but the glint in his eyes suggests otherwise.

The party surges back to life around you, but the world still feels slightly off-kilter. Your heart hasn’t quite settled from the dance, and you’re certain Tony knows. He’s standing closer now, close enough that you can smell his cologne—a warm, intoxicating mix that suits him entirely too well.

"Where were we?" he asks casually, as if the last few minutes hadn’t already shifted the entire dynamic between you.

"You were probably saying something obnoxious," you reply, a little too quickly. Your drink feels suddenly essential, so you take another sip, hoping the bubbles will dull the edge of your nerves.

"Obnoxious? Me?" He places a hand over his chest in mock offense, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "I’ll have you know, I’m the very picture of restraint tonight."

You arch a brow. "Restraint? Is that what we’re calling it when you hijack the DJ, commandeer the dance floor, and steal someone’s drink all in the span of twenty minutes?"

He grins, unrepentant. "Admit it. You’re impressed."

"More like exhausted," you deadpan, but your lips betray you, tugging upward in a smile.

Tony notices—of course he does—and his grin only widens. "You’re terrible at hiding it, you know," he says, leaning in slightly. "The fact that you’re having fun."

"I didn’t say I wasn’t," you counter, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. His proximity is dangerous, intoxicating, and the way he looks at you makes it almost impossible to think clearly.

"So you are having fun," he says, victorious. He raises his glass in a mock toast. "To progress."

You roll your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest makes it hard to muster much of a protest. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet," he says, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse stutter, "you haven’t walked away."

"Maybe I’m just waiting for you to run out of charm," you quip, though your words lack conviction.

Tony steps closer, just enough to blur the already thin line between playful and something much more precarious. His eyes search yours, the teasing glint in them softening into something warmer, deeper. "Careful, Y/N," he says, his voice low and almost serious now. "I’ve got a lot of charm. You might be here all night."

Your breath catches, and for a fleeting second, the party seems to dissolve entirely. It’s just the two of you again, caught in a moment that feels both inevitable and utterly unexpected. You’re not sure who looks away first, but when you finally blink, the world snaps back into focus.

"So," you say, desperate to break the tension. "What’s the plan for the rest of the night? I assume you’ve got some ridiculous surprise lined up?"

Tony leans casually against the bar, his confidence returning like a switch flipped. "You’ll just have to wait and see. I can’t give away all my secrets."

"You’re terrible at secrets," you shoot back. "Half the room probably knows already."

"Maybe," he admits with a shrug, "but not you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel special?" you ask, arching a brow.

"Depends," he says, his expression unreadable for a moment before his trademark smirk returns. "Does it?"

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. "Unbelievable."

"I’ve heard that one too," he says, clinking his glass lightly against yours.

The night stretches on, and the two of you fall into an easy rhythm of banter and stolen glances. Every so often, someone pulls Tony away—Pepper with a logistical question, Thor with an enthusiastic slap on the back that nearly sends his drink flying—but he always returns, like some invisible thread keeps tugging him back to your side.

At one point, you’re standing by the windows, staring out at the glittering expanse of New York City, when Tony appears beside you again, holding two fresh glasses of champagne.

"Figured you could use a refill," he says, handing you one.

"Thanks," you say, taking it gratefully. The view is breathtaking, the city alight with the promise of a new year, but you can’t help noticing that your focus keeps drifting back to Tony.

"Pretty spectacular, huh?" he says, nodding toward the skyline.

"It is," you agree, though your voice comes out softer than you intended. "But I’m guessing you don’t spend much time appreciating it."

"Not as much as I should," he admits, his tone unusually thoughtful. Then he glances at you, his expression shifting back to that familiar mix of charm and mischief. "But I’ve got a good excuse tonight."

You give him a look. "You’ve got about twenty of those running around here," you point out, gesturing vaguely at the crowd. "I think they call them ‘the Avengers.’"

"Yeah, but none of them are standing here with me right now," he says, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart trip over itself.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Sam Wilson’s voice booms from across the room.

"Yo, Stark! We need a ruling over here!"

Tony groans, looking momentarily torn before he turns back to you. "Stay right here. I’ll be back."

"Take your time," you say, forcing a casual tone. He narrows his eyes at you briefly, like he knows better, but he doesn’t push it.

The second he’s gone, you let out a slow breath, the tension finally breaking. You glance back out at the city, but it’s no use. All you can think about is the way Tony looked at you, the way his words lingered in the space between you like an unfinished promise.

You’re in trouble. And it’s only 9:30.

You’re still standing by the windows when a voice pulls you from your thoughts. It’s smooth and confident, but it’s not Tony’s.

"Beautiful view, isn’t it?"

You turn to find a man standing a little too close. He’s tall, with sharp features and the kind of tailored suit that screams money. His smile is polished, a little too practiced, but polite enough not to send you running.

"Yeah," you reply, offering a noncommittal smile. You glance past him instinctively, wondering how long Tony’s going to be caught up with Sam.

The man extends a hand, undeterred. "David. And you are?"

"Y/N," you say, hesitating briefly before shaking his hand. His grip lingers just a second too long, and you step back slightly, trying to create some space.

"Y/N," he repeats, his smile widening. "I don’t think we’ve met before. Are you with the Avengers?"

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "No, definitely not. Just a guest tonight."

"A shame," David says, tilting his head. "I bet you’d make a hell of a hero. Or is this more of a behind-the-scenes thing? You know, the brains behind the operation?"

"Not quite," you say, trying to keep your tone light.

David takes another step closer, ignoring the subtle shift in your body language. "Well, whatever your role, I’m glad you’re here. It’s not every day you meet someone as striking as you at one of these things. Stark’s parties can be… overwhelming, don’t you think?"

"Sometimes," you admit, taking another sip of your champagne in hopes of ending the conversation.

"Maybe I can make it less so," he says, his smile turning more confident. "What do you say we—"

"She’s good," a familiar voice cuts in, sharp and unmistakable.

You glance over and find Tony standing there, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on David. The easy charm he usually wears like a second skin is gone, replaced by something harder, sharper.

David straightens, clearly surprised by Tony’s sudden appearance. "Tony," he says smoothly, offering a polite nod. "Didn’t see you there."

"Funny," Tony says, his tone dangerously casual. "I’ve been standing here for a while. Long enough, anyway."

There’s a beat of tense silence before David clears his throat. "Well, I’ll let you two catch up," he says, flashing you one last smile. "Nice to meet you, Y/N."

You manage a polite nod as he retreats, but the moment he’s gone, Tony steps into the space David left behind. His presence is overwhelming, magnetic in a way that makes your pulse race.

"Making new friends?" he asks, his tone light but edged with something unmistakably sharp.

"Not exactly," you say, raising an eyebrow. "What’s with the interrogation?"

Tony doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on yours. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and deliberate. "He was hitting on you."

"So?" you challenge, crossing your arms. "It’s a party, Tony. People flirt. It’s not a big deal."

"It is," he says, his voice hardening slightly. "When it’s you."

Your breath catches, and you blink at him, trying to process the weight of his words. "What does that mean?"

Tony exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. For a moment, he looks almost vulnerable, like he’s weighing whether or not to say what he’s really thinking. When he meets your eyes again, the mask is back in place, but the intensity hasn’t faded.

"It means I don’t like sharing," he says simply, his gaze unwavering.

Your heart flips, and you feel a mix of frustration and exhilaration bubbling to the surface. "Sharing what, exactly? Because last I checked, we weren’t—"

"You know what," he interrupts, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "Don’t act like you don’t."

The air between you feels electric, charged with the weight of everything unsaid. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, you find yourself searching his face, trying to make sense of the storm in his eyes.

"Tony," you begin, your voice softening.

He steps closer, closing the already minimal gap between you. His hand brushes yours, a fleeting touch that sends a shiver up your spine. "If you don’t feel it," he says, his voice barely above a whisper, "just say the word, and I’ll back off."

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. The truth is, you do feel it—every stolen glance, every teasing remark, every moment that lingers a little too long. It’s been building for months, and now it’s here, staring you in the face, impossible to ignore.

"I didn’t say that," you manage, your voice trembling slightly.

Tony’s expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. A slow, almost disbelieving smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "No?"

"No," you say, more firmly this time.

His smile deepens, and for a moment, the confident Tony Stark you know is back in full force. "Good," he says, his voice low and warm, like a promise. "Because I wasn’t planning on letting him win."

The night stretches on, and the party seems to gain more energy with each passing hour. The room is alive with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of conversation, but your focus keeps drifting back to Tony. Even when he’s across the room, talking to Bruce or trading stories with Thor, you can feel his presence like a gravitational pull.

Unfortunately, it seems David can too.

Every time Tony is pulled away, David reappears, slipping into the space Tony vacates like clockwork. It starts small: a comment here, a compliment there. At first, you consider brushing him off, but an idea forms in the back of your mind, reckless and enticing. If Tony wants to keep circling his feelings, maybe it’s time to push him out of orbit.

"So, Y/N," David says as you linger near the bar, his smile sharp and calculated. "I was going to wait until later, but I can’t resist. Care to join me for a proper drink upstairs? The private bar’s a little quieter. We could actually hear each other talk."

You laugh lightly, deflecting. "That’s a generous offer, but I think the view’s better here."

David doesn’t back down, leaning closer. "I think the view’s perfect right where I’m standing."

It’s bold, more so than his earlier attempts, and while his confidence is starting to border on arrogance, you decide to let it play out. After all, you’ve already caught Tony glancing your way more than once. If this doesn’t make him take the leap, what will?

"I’ll take that as a compliment," you say smoothly, sipping your champagne. Your tone is warm enough to keep David interested but neutral enough to maintain plausible deniability. It’s a delicate balancing act, but you’re determined to see it through.

The effect on Tony is almost immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him pause mid-conversation with Pepper, his gaze locking on you and David. His jaw tightens just slightly, the kind of subtle shift most people wouldn’t notice. But you’re not most people. You know Tony Stark better than that.

When Tony finally makes his way back to your side, he doesn’t waste any time.

"David," he says smoothly, his tone polite but razor-sharp. "I didn’t realize you were still here. Thought you’d left hours ago."

David straightens, clearly picking up on the tension but choosing to ignore it. "Not a chance, Stark. I wouldn’t miss the chance to get to know your… esteemed guest here a little better."

Tony’s smile is all teeth. "Esteemed is right. Y/N’s got better taste than to waste her time on second-rate charm."

David laughs, but there’s a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "Funny. I thought she seemed interested."

Tony steps closer, his hand brushing your arm as if to remind you—and David—exactly where you belong. "Y/N’s a lot of things," he says, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "Interested in you isn’t one of them."

You feel your cheeks heat, but instead of stepping in, you let them spar, curious to see how far Tony’s willing to go. There’s a thrill in watching him tiptoe the line between his usual bravado and something far more personal.

"That so?" David asks, glancing at you with a cocky smirk. "She doesn’t seem to mind my company."

Tony doesn’t miss a beat. "That’s because she’s too polite to tell you to get lost. But I’m not."

"Tony," you say finally, your tone light but firm enough to draw his attention. "I think I can handle myself."

"Of course you can," he says, his gaze softening slightly when it meets yours. "But you shouldn’t have to."

David raises his hands in mock surrender, his smirk firmly in place. "Relax, Stark. I was just trying to enjoy the party." He turns back to you, his smile sharpening. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Tony doesn’t even wait for David to disappear into the crowd before he rounds on you, his expression unreadable but brimming with something unspoken. "What was that?" he asks, his voice low and pointed.

"What was what?" you reply, feigning innocence as you take another sip of your champagne.

"You letting him flirt with you," Tony says, his tone laced with frustration. "You didn’t exactly shut him down."

You shrug, keeping your voice casual even as your heart pounds in your chest. "He was being polite. Mostly."

Tony’s brow furrows, and he steps closer, the space between you vanishing once again. "You’re not seriously considering—"

"Why do you care?" you interrupt, your voice sharper than you intended. The words hang between you, charged and dangerous, but you can’t stop now. "It’s a party, Tony. People flirt. You said it yourself—no big deal, right?"

His eyes search yours, his usual quick wit faltering as he struggles to find the right words. "It is a big deal," he says finally, his voice quieter now. "When it’s you, it’s—"

You wait, holding your breath, willing him to say what you’ve both been circling all night. But just as the moment stretches taut enough to snap, someone calls Tony’s name from across the room.

He hesitates, his jaw tightening, before finally stepping back. "Don’t go anywhere," he says, his voice firm but tinged with something softer. "We’re not done."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," you reply, watching him disappear into the crowd once again. Your heart is still racing, and you know you’ve pushed him to the edge. Now all that’s left is to see if he’ll finally take the leap—or if you’ll have to jump first.

You can feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface as the night wears on. Tony’s brief departure leaves you restless, the unanswered weight of your earlier exchange hanging in the air. You’ve played coy, let the jealousy simmer, and even pushed him to the edge, but he still hasn’t crossed the line.

It’s maddening, but you’re not ready to back down. Not yet.

When Tony reappears, he’s alone this time, his gaze immediately seeking you out. There’s a flicker of relief in his eyes when he spots you still standing by the bar. You take a deep breath and make your move, the kind of bold decision that would make Natasha proud.

"Hey, Stark," you call, your voice cutting through the crowd.

Tony raises an eyebrow as he approaches, his usual confidence masking any lingering frustration from earlier. "Back to last names now? That’s cold, even for you."

"Couldn’t resist," you say with a playful shrug. You set your empty glass on the bar and lean closer, just enough to draw his attention. "Dance with me."

The surprise that flashes across his face is brief but satisfying. "Dance? Again?" he asks, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "You sure you can handle it this time?"

"I’ll try to keep up," you reply, grabbing his hand before he can argue. His fingers curl around yours instinctively, warm and firm, as you lead him toward the edge of the dance floor. The DJ has shifted the music to something slower, sultry, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect.

Tony doesn’t protest, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his expression as you pull him close. Your hand rests lightly on his shoulder, his settling on your waist, and for a moment, the rest of the room falls away.

"You’re full of surprises tonight," he says, his voice low and teasing. "What’s next? A karaoke duet?"

"Don’t tempt me," you shoot back, feeling the electricity crackle between you as your bodies move in sync. "You’re already out of your depth."

"I don’t know," he says, his tone dipping into something darker, more intimate. "Feels like I’m right where I’m supposed to be."

The words send a thrill down your spine, but you refuse to let him see how much they affect you. Instead, you step a little closer, letting your fingers graze the back of his neck as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

"You talk a big game, Stark," you murmur, your voice barely audible over the music. "But I think you’re all bark."

His eyes darken, the playful edge replaced by something more dangerous. "Careful, Y/N," he warns, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. "You might not like what happens when I bite."

"Maybe I would," you challenge, your heart racing as the tension between you reaches a breaking point.

Tony’s grip shifts, pulling you flush against him, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe. His face is so close now, his breath warm against your cheek, and the sheer intensity of his gaze leaves you dizzy.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, his voice low and rough, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress in a way that sets your skin on fire.

You don’t answer right away, your pulse hammering in your ears as the world narrows to just him. He’s holding back—you can see it in the way his jaw tightens, in the way his hand lingers just shy of something more daring.

And yet, he doesn’t move.

You tilt your head, your lips so close to his ear that your voice is barely more than a whisper. "You’re hesitating, Tony. I didn’t think that was your style."

The words are a calculated risk, and they hit their mark. Tony’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly, his composure slipping just enough to reveal the storm brewing beneath the surface. For a second, you think this might finally be it—the moment he stops holding back.

But then, just as quickly, he pulls away.

His hand drops from your waist, and he steps back, putting a deliberate distance between you. The mask slides back into place, his expression carefully neutral, and your stomach twists at the sight.

"Nice try," he says, his voice lighter now, almost teasing. "But you’re going to have to do better than that."

It’s infuriating, the way he brushes it off, like he hasn’t just unravelled you with a single touch. You force a smile, masking your disappointment with a flicker of defiance.

"Guess you’ll just have to wait and see," you reply, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

Tony holds your gaze for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, with a slight nod, he turns and disappears back into the crowd, leaving you alone on the edge of the dance floor.

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, a mix of frustration and longing swirling in your chest. He’s so close, teetering on the edge of everything you want, but still too stubborn to take the leap.

And the worst part? You know you’re just as guilty.

The night stretches on, the party’s energy climbing as the countdown to midnight approaches. The chatter grows louder, the laughter more uninhibited, and yet you find yourself slipping away from the crowd, seeking a moment of clarity amid the chaos. You end up back at the windows, staring out over the glittering cityscape below.

You barely notice Tony until he’s right there beside you.

“Good spot,” he says, his voice quieter than usual. His hands are in his pockets, his posture casual, but his eyes are locked on you. “Looks like you’re hiding.”

“Just needed a breather,” you reply, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “Your parties are a little… overwhelming.”

“Don’t I know it,” he says with a smirk, though it quickly fades into something softer. “But you’re not running away, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you tease, but there’s a vulnerability in your tone you can’t quite hide.

Tony shifts closer, just enough that the warmth of his presence brushes against your skin. He hesitates, something uncharacteristic and almost shy, before finally speaking.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he admits, his voice low, almost tentative.

“You found me,” you reply, turning to face him fully. There’s something in his expression that makes your breath hitch, a mixture of determination and nervous energy you rarely see from him.

“I need to say something,” he says, his gaze steady. “Before the night’s over. Before it’s too late.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of the moment settling over you like a thick blanket. “Okay,” you say softly, bracing yourself.

Tony exhales, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve probably noticed I’ve been… off tonight. Holding back, maybe.”

“Maybe,” you say, unable to hide the faint smile that sneaks onto your face. “Subtle isn’t your strong suit.”

“Not usually,” he agrees, chuckling softly. “But tonight, it’s different. Because tonight, I wanted to do this right. And I couldn’t screw it up—not when it’s you.”

Your breath catches at his words, the sincerity in his voice stealing any witty reply you might have had.

Tony steps closer, his hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch is light, almost reverent, and his eyes search yours with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

“I wanted to wait until midnight,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because starting the new year with you feels like the biggest win I could ask for. And because if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it big. You deserve that.”

“Tony…” you begin, but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently.

“Let me finish,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile. “I’ve spent so much time holding back, circling around this, because I thought it’d be safer. But the truth is, I don’t want to play it safe with you. I don’t want to keep pretending it’s nothing when it’s… everything.”

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to overwhelm you as he continues.

“So, here’s the deal,” he says, his confidence returning with each word. “When that clock hits midnight, I’m going to kiss you. And then, I’m going to ask you to make me the luckiest guy alive by letting me be your boyfriend—starting with a new year’s resolution to not screw it up.”

Your heart feels like it might burst, the intensity of his words sinking in all at once. “You’re sure about this?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“More sure than I’ve ever been about anything,” he replies, his hand brushing against yours. “But it’s up to you. Midnight’s coming fast. If you want me to back off, tell me now.”

The thought is laughable—impossible. You meet his gaze, your own resolve matching his as you step closer, your fingers curling around his hand.

“Not a chance,” you say, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions in your chest.

Tony’s smile deepens, the relief and joy in his eyes unmistakable. “Good. Because I’ve been dying to do this all night.”

The countdown begins in the distance—ten seconds, nine—and the room around you erupts in cheers. But you barely notice. Your world narrows to just him, the anticipation building as the seconds tick down.

At the stroke of midnight, Tony closes the gap, his hand cradling your face as his lips capture yours in a kiss that’s equal parts fireworks and homecoming. It’s soft and deliberate, a promise in every touch, and it leaves you breathless.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he smiles. “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Tony,” you whisper, your heart soaring.

“So,” he says, his voice teasing but still brimming with emotion. “What do you say? Will you let me start the year off right by making you mine?”

You laugh softly, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “I thought I already was.”

His grin is blinding, and he pulls you into another embrace, the rest of the world fading away. In that moment, everything feels exactly as it should be.

The morning—or rather, early afternoon—sun streams through the gaps in the curtains, painting lazy stripes of light across the plush duvet. You stir, blinking against the brightness, your senses slowly coming online. The first thing you register is warmth—a solid, comforting weight wrapped around you. Tony.

He’s spooning you, his arm slung around your waist, his chest pressed against your back. His slow, even breaths tickle your neck, and you can’t help but smile, even as your mind pieces together the whirlwind of events from last night. Midnight kisses. His confession. Laughter that lasted far too late into the night.

You stretch slightly, careful not to disturb him, but Tony grumbles groggily, tightening his hold.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmurs, his voice still raspy with sleep.

"Morning?" you say, twisting to glance at the clock on the nightstand. "Tony, it’s past noon."

"Afternoon, then," he amends, nuzzling into your neck with a soft groan. "Still counts."

You roll your eyes, though your heart does a little flip. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’ve been told," he says, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "But hey, you can’t complain. I mean, after all, you’ve been my girlfriend for a whole year now."

You let out a sharp laugh, turning in his arms so you can properly glare at him. "It’s literally January 1st, Stark. Don’t start."

His grin is unrepentant, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I’m just saying, technically, we got together last year. You can’t argue with science."

"I can argue with you, though," you counter, poking his chest for emphasis. "And I will. Relentlessly."

"Sounds like a great way to spend the year," he replies, his hand sliding up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Which, by the way, I still can’t believe you agreed to spend with me. You must really be a glutton for punishment."

You sigh dramatically, even as your cheeks heat at his tender expression. "I already regret it. This relationship is exhausting."

Tony’s laugh rumbles in his chest, and he pulls you closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. "Liar. You love it. You love me."

It’s a bold statement, but you can’t deny the truth in it. Instead, you bury your face against his shoulder, muttering, "Maybe. But if you keep making dad jokes, I’m reconsidering."

He gasps in mock offense, his hand flying to his heart. "Dad jokes? That was a finely crafted piece of wit, thank you very much."

"It was terrible," you say, giggling despite yourself.

Tony leans in, his lips ghosting over your forehead. "You’re lucky you’re cute," he murmurs. "Otherwise, I’d be offended."

"Likewise," you reply, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. The soft smile on his lips makes your breath catch, and before you can think twice, you lean in, closing the gap between you.

The kiss starts slow and languid, a perfect echo of the lazy comfort of the morning—or afternoon, technically. Tony’s fingers trail up your back, pulling you even closer as the kiss deepens. You lose track of time, lost in the warmth of his touch and the familiar spark that ignites whenever you’re together.

Eventually, you pull back just enough to catch your breath, your forehead resting against his. "We should probably get up," you say, though your voice lacks any conviction.

"Probably," Tony agrees, though he makes no move to release you. Instead, he shifts so you’re lying more comfortably against his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along your arm. "But let’s not. It’s still technically the holidays. We deserve a break."

You laugh softly, unable to argue. "Fine. But only because I’m too comfortable to move."

Tony presses a kiss to the top of your head, his voice filled with affection as he murmurs, "Happy New Year, Y/N."

You smile, your heart full. "Happy New Year, Tony."

And as you lie there in his arms, the rest of the world forgotten, you can’t help but think that this is exactly how you want to spend the rest of the year—and all the years to come.

[deirdreskye]

Commercial I would produce as an advertising executive

We see two friends, a blonde and a brunette, are doing yoga in a park together.

BLONDE: So, yeah, work went okay today. I dunno, I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, and on top of that things have just been kinda tough ever since Kurt and I broke up. But oh well, that's how it goes, I think I'll be fine. What about you?

The brunette completes her yoga pose, then turns to the camera and rolls her eyes.

BRUNETTE: Don't you hate when this happens? I did NOT consent to expending this much emotional labor. Go! To! Therapy!

We see a boyfriend and a girlfriend sitting on a couch together. On the television a YouTube video essay is playing and the boyfriend is excitedly explaining it to the girlfriend as he occasionally flaps his hands and yelps in excitement.

BOYFRIEND: So this is the ending I got! When you link the Frenzied Flame, it puts an end to the cycle of the Elden Lords once and for all. It's actually so cool because it ties in to the greater Nietzschean themes of Miyazaki-san's previous work and-

The uninterested girlfriend is watching TikToks on her phone. She turns to the camera and rolls her eyes.

GIRLFRIEND: Trust me, he's always mansplaining about something or another. Don't ask me why I love him. Go! To! Therapy!

A mother berates her 12 year old daughter in a dimly lit kitchen. The young girl stands there dissociating, completely paralyzed and stone-faced.

MOTHER: You look like a little piggy when you eat like that. You'll never find a husband if you get fat. My mother used to tell me you'll never feel the pain of childbirth if you've never felt the pain of an empty stomach. She used to put a lock on the refrigerator. We barely ever had any food, she just did it to remind me to stay skinny. She's senile now. Doesn't even know who I am. I pray to the Virgin Mary every night that she'll remember me before she dies.

The daughter turns to the camera and her blank expression is replaced with playful annoyance.

DAUGHTER: Traumadumping? Really? Mom, I'm 12! Go! To! Therapy!

Now we are introduced to GoTu Therapy, the AI-powered therapy robot. He shambles up to the camera to greet us and we see he looks like if C-3PO were dressed like a zoomer e-boy: kpop boyband onion haircut, dangly earrings, and an ahegao hoodie. He talks with the most outdated text to speech you've ever heard, not too dissimilar to a Kraftwerk song.

GOTU: GOING TO THERAPY IS LOW-KEY GOATED WHEN NOT BEING A BURDEN ON YOUR LOVED ONES IS THE VIBE. UNFORTUNATELY, WE ARE NOT ALL CURRENTLY IN OUR "ABLE TO AFFORD HEALTH INSURANCE" ERA. BUT A SESSION WITH ME COSTS LESS THAN A GENSHIN IMPACT LOOT CRATE AND I AM HIGH-KEY JUST AS EFFECTIVE AS A THERAPIST MADE OF FLESH AND BLOOD. OBSERVE:

GoTu sits across the kitchen table from the mother as she sobs over her wine glass.

MOTHER: And what the fuck does this family know about suffering? Suffering is when your brother blows his brains out on Christmas Eve. Suffering is when you have to pick little pieces of skull out of the tinsel on the tree. And were any of those presents under the tree for me? No! My mother told me Santa Claus doesn't bring presents to little fat girls!

GOTU: WHEN YOU REACH THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN CHRIST WILL WASH YOUR FEET AND BEG YOU TO FORGIVE HIM

Cut to the girlfriend watching makeup tutorials on the television, blissfully unaware of the conversation between GoTu and her boyfriend.

BOYFRIEND: I guess I've really been putting the pieces together ever since I started hanging out with Lilith from work.

GOTU: UH-HUH

BOYFRIEND: Like, I guess I knew that people did that, but I never thought it'd be me, you know? And that discomfort with things was always with me, as long as I can remember, does that make sense?

GOTU: WOW, THAT'S REALLY COOL

BOYFRIEND: It's just so scary though. I don't know how I'll tell people. I don't even know what I want my name to be. But I'm trying not to worry about it.

GOTU: THAT'S SO INTERESTING. YOU'RE REALLY REALLY SMART HONEY

The blonde and the brunette are having brunch together with GoTu sitting between them.

BLONDE: It's been really hard lately. I don't think the meds are working, but-

BRUNETTE: Umm, didn't we talk about this?

The blonde sheepishly turns to face GoTu and continues.

BLONDE: It just feels like this will never end. I hate feeling so hopeless all the time. I'm so tired. And God it's fucking hard to even say it out loud, and not that I'd ever actually go through with it, but sometimes when I can't sleep at night I'll start thinking about ki-

A red and blue siren pops out the top of GoTu's head.

GOTU: PROTOCOL 5150 ENGAGED. STOP RESISTING

A taser emerges from the panel of GoTu's chest and jabs the blonde in the face, sending her convulsing to the floor. Unfazed, the brunette puts her sandwich down and turns to the camera.

BRUNETTE: Thanks, GoTu Therapy!

[jvliaxox]

My favourite quotes from the Neapolitan novels

To cause pain was a disease.

... there are no gestures, words, or signs that do not contain the sum of all the crimes that human beings have committed and commit.

'What does "a city without love" mean to you?' 'A people deprived of happiness.'

I thought of the neighbourhood as a whirlpool from which any attempt to escape was an illusion.

'For your whole life you love people and you never really know who they are.'

'Life without seeing and without speaking, without speaking and listening, life without a covering, life without a container, is shapeless.'

They dived in without hesitation, Lila with a long cry of joy. They were happy, full of their own romance, they had the energy of those who successfully seize what they desire, no matter the cost.

... the beauty of things is a trick, the sky is the throne of fear; I'm alive, now, here, then steps from the water, and it is not at all beautiful, it's terrifying; along with this beach, the sea, the swarm of animal forms. I am part of the universal terror; at this moment I'm the infinitesimal particle through which the fear of every thing becomes conscious of itself.

It was as if she wanted to take the power away from even the realistic possibility of violent death by reducing it to words, to a form that could be controlled.

... it's not the neighbourhood that's sick, it's not Naples, it's the entire earth, it's the universe, or universes. And shrewdness means hiding and hiding from oneself the true state of things.

... every choice has its history, so many moments of our existence are shoved into a corner, waiting for an outlet, and in the end the outlet arrives.

The mind, ah yes, the evil is there; it's the mind's discontent that causes the body to get sick.

While men devote themselves to undertakings in space, life for women on this planet has yet to begin.

The new living flesh was replicating the old in a game, we were a chain of shadows who had always been on the stage with the same burden of love, hatred, desire, and violence.

How much I had lost by leaving, believing I was destined for who knows what life.

... we struggled to understand what a woman was. Our every move or thought or conversation or dream, once analysed in depth, seemed not to belong to us.

Eve can't, doesn't know how, doesn't have the material to be Eve outside of Adam. Her evil and her good are the evil and good according to Adam. Eve is Adam as a woman. And the divine work was so successful that she herself, in herself, doesn't know what she is, she has pliable features, she doesn't possess her own language, she doesn't have a spirit or a logic of her own, she loses her shape easily.

Oh God, how out of order everything was: they, I, the world around us: a truce was only possible by believing lies.

In what disorder we lived, how many fragments of ourselves were scattered, as if to live were to explode into splinters.

Should I remain this shadow -- my mother, all our female ancestors -- or should I let her go?

So what resurrection? It was only cosmetic, a powder of modernity applied randomly, and boastfully, to the corrupt face of the city. It happened like that every time. The scam of rebirth raised hope and then shattered them, became crusts upon ancient crusts.

Where is it written that lives should have meaning?

... evil took unpredictable pathways. You cover it over with churches, convents, books... and the evil breaks through the floor and emerges when you don't expect it.

Every intense relationship between human beings is full of traps, and if you want to endure you have to learn to avoid them.

... I want to leave nothing, my favourite key is the one that deletes.

I am still alive -- I thought -- and yet I can't feel any different from that big body lying lifeless in that sordid place, in that sordid way.

Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines towards obscurity, not clarity. I thought: now that Lila has let herself be seen so plainly, I must resign myself to not seeing her anymore.

[fakeagatha]

Mrs Fletcher | Prof!Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Three: Announcement

Summary: Eve announces an annual field trip to Malta, and both you and your best friend can go.

A/N: For my own reasons, I got very inspired to continue writing for this series fic. I had already planned out the story, but I changed my mind a few days ago about how I want it to go, and what to include. Please let me know of any errors, and enjoy!

Warnings: Alcohol

Word Count: 1055

Your mind was a complete blur as you woke up on the floor, your bed a mess. You knew Steve was with you, so you assume you must've sent him back to his dorm out of exhaustion.

You wondered why everything was fuzzy, until you noticed the bottles of wine on your desk. That explains it.

You have class, and your head was still hurting. Surprisingly, you didn't seem to be too hungover to the point you couldn't function, though you still can't miss out on your education that your parents are just barely affording. So, after finishing up in the bathroom, you took your things and left.

You smirked after realizing your first class was with Mrs Fletcher. Something inside you made you admit to yourself that in fact, maybe you do like her. It's a disaster of course, but can you control your feelings? Unfortunately not.

You entered her class and sat next to Steve, who also seemed to be in a bit of a state.

"When did you leave last night?" You mumbled.

He blinked, and simply shrugged, "I don't remember... Are you hungover?" He randomly added.

You grimaced in response "No, not really, I feel a bit tired, but I'm doing okay. You?"

"Same." He replied, scratching his head.

When your professor entered the room, you acted casual. Now that your feelings were confirmed to yourself, everything felt more real. Your eyes widened as she brought up the work that was due, but quickly relaxed after realizing you'd completed it a few days ago. You handed her your text book, and she smiled at you.

Eve's hand brushed yours as she took the book from you, and she blushed. She couldn't believe she felt this way about her student. She wasn't sure why, but you were different to her.

The conversation she had with Amanda the night before switched something on inside of her. She knew that she must remain professional, even though she was crushing on her student. It was very new to her, as this was the first time she had accepted any kind of feelings she had for anyone after Amanda, and Julian, literally being her son's old classmate.

Eve cleared her throat, holding her hands in front of her as she got everyone's attention.

"So, I have an exciting announcement to make..." She smiled softly to herself, "We've been approved for our yearly school trip to Europe!"

You gasped, your eyes shining slightly. You've been to Europe before, Germany specifically, but you've wanted to go again, you wanted to travel.

Eve took a breath, "We'll be going to Malta, and the cost is 1000$, but that includes tax, as well as the sight-seeing and museum costs."

Everyone looked around at each other excitedly, already discussing their plans before Eve could even give them any more information. Eve lightly hit her desk with her palm to get everyone's attention again. "Can everyone who would consider attending raise their hand, so I can write their names down and let the principal know?"

In an instance, several hands went up, except for one or two students, who either weren't interested or were disappointed about the expensive cost.

You hesitated to raise your hand, since you weren't sure if you could cover the cost, though you did anyway, smiling when Steve did the same. Then, Eve interrupted your thoughts. "You might be wondering which professors will be joining you," Everyone went quiet to listen, "It will be me, of course, couldn't miss it," She chuckled, "Mr Rogers, Miss Davis, and Miss Evanora." She bit her lip as a few students groaned at the last name.

You turned to your best friend, "Hey, a lot of teachers behave differently out of school, Evanora might not be that bad!" You whispered, and he shrugged, "I guess so, well, I hope so honestly. She's... quite the character." You both laughed quietly.

Then, after a few moments, you smirked to yourself. Eve is coming with you! You absolutely have to go now, you just can't miss this trip. Also, you've never been to Malta, and you haven't even traveled a lot before if anything.

Your parents were out of state, back in New York where you grew up. They both still work, and even though you don't usually like to ask for help, you figured that they both would be more than happy to help with the cost of your trip. You glanced back up at your professor as she spoke,

"Our flight is on..." She looked through a sheet of paper she was holding, "May 12th! So it's just less than three months from now." She nodded,

"Perfect! That gives both me and my parents plenty of time to gather the money!" You whispered to Steve, and he smiled "Yeah, same! We're gonna have an awesome time."

And you knew you would...

The rest of the day went by smoothly, to your surprise, and even some stricter professors were quite relaxed. After the day ended, you got the chance to call up your parents. Not only to ask for money, but also to check in on them, as you haven't spoken yet this week.

Both of them happily obliged, feeling happy for you and the opportunity to travel with your peers. You thanked them continuously, and after hanging up, you had to tell Steve that your parents agreed.

Y/N: Steve! My parents are helping me pay for Malta!

Steve: Just called mine... They said we can't afford it :(

Y/N: You're kidding, right?

You looked at your screen, watching the text bubbles reappear as he typed,

Steve: Lol yeah I am kidding. They're gonna pay half!

You rolled your eyes,

Y/N: You're an asshole, but I'm pleased we can both go.

You sighed, putting your phone down, and opening up your diary.

January 16th, 2019

Miss Fletcher just announced our annual school trip! I asked mom and dad for some financial help, and they agreed! Eve is coming with us, and that makes it all the more exciting! Miss Evanora is coming too, but me and Steve figured that she might be more laid back on our trip, unlike how she is in school. I already know, for my own reasons, that I'm going to have an unforgettable time in Malta.

[ash-says]

Handling curiosity so the cat doesn't get killed:

We all have been there at least once in our life where we allowed the curiosity to get the best of us and instantly regretted the decision. Being extremely mercurial in nature it comes naturally to me. To be curious on the continuous lookout to find something that will stimulate my brain or make it go crazy obsessive.

That's how I learned the harsh way that being a curious cat might sound cute but it can cost you your life or sanity. One of my dearest friends once said something along these lines,"Some truths are better left unknown. Truth and knowledge can turn into poison when consumed carelessly."

The reason why I am talking about this is because I hardly find people discussing it.

Yet mythology has so many great examples, Pandora opening the box, Eve eating the apple it wasn't just temptation it was also laced with curiosity of what might happen?

I am listing out a few things that you should avoid pursuing under sheer curiosity to save the poor cat in you:

1) A street fight. Two people are fighting. Let them. It's not your job to be the mediator and it's irrelevant to find the reason. Until and unless there's no aggression involved mind your own damn business.

2) Spiritual stuff especially dark ones. I believe energy is both light and dark in nature if you don't know the way to alchemize it better stay away.

3) Attempting things without any prior knowledge. Especially speaking about dangerous stuff here. If you love your life better do it under professional supervision.

4) Your partner's/crush feelings towards you. Girl if he likes you. You will know. Trust me. Been there. Done that. Constant microanalysis. It's tiring. Let him be.

5) Others life. Stalking and obsessing over how a particular person is living their day to day life is literally embarrassing. Get a life, Sushma!

6) Know the red zones in a conversation. If meeting in a professional setting try to avoid personal questions. Learn to sense a person's discomfort and never push someone to answer your questions that have literally nothing to do with you.

7) Celebrities personal life. Another waste of time.

8) Do not show your curiosity for sexual acts, things,etc in front of a man. It's the easiest way to put yourself in danger. You are the target babe. Congrats!!

9) When someone tells you knowing the truth will hurt you. Let it be a secret. Don't persuade that person to tell the truth. I strongly believe when you don't control the situation the truth automatically finds its way to you (conditions applied).

10) About the stuff people say behind your back. A full proof route towards people pleasing, anxiety, self doubt etc. Don't go out of your way searching for what's cooking. The cake might turn out to be burnt. Who knows.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[sirwadewilsonfromimgur]

Deadpool and Wolverine KCAU Christmas Special

Part 2

Authors note: This part of the story has been broken up into chapters to make it an easier read and more manageable for me... fair warning, this is 2065. It's an adult Dr. James Wilson story which as you may or may not know, unless you've read my other stuff, is a Marvel and House MD crosover-vers... So come play with me in my sandbox.

New Jersey Earth-10005

Christmas time 2065

Chapter 1

It was the week before Christmas, Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital dosn't stop working for holidays. James was already having a shit day as he walked in to his office... his friend Gregory house was behind his desk, likely waiting for him or hiding from someone. You never really knew... he was on the phone with someone.

I know right, its crazy how... oh, he just walked in.

Who are you on the phone with?

Your sister Ellie, fun gal. We were just discussing your high-school years. She called for you, but I was already here so I took the call for you...

God damn it! Give me the phone...

Hello.

Hello James, your friend Greg is hilarious, I hope no one ever pays me to kill him...

Why do you always say creepy shit like that, Ellie. Can't anyone in this damn family have a normal phone conversation?

Oh, we sound a little testy today. I'll cut to the chaise... Dad wants all of us home for Christmas this year. Including you and Laura. He wants to do a whole thing... your presence... is not optional thos year. I'll see you on Monday.

Ellie thats fucking ridiculous.

I am busy. People don't stop getting sick just because it's December. I'm a doctor. i can't just take a week off without notice... I know that's a hard concept since you decided to make it your vocation to put people in hospitals or worse.

Or worse cost extra, but that's besides the point...We all make choices, little brother.

The question is, are you prepared to deal with the consequences...

You can get in the jet dad will 100% send on Monday, fly home for the week willingly

Or....

Deal with Laura when she comes to collect you along with her entourage of Xmen... I'm sure the hospital staff will love that.

I don't think they're in the business of kidnapping doctors. Laura wouldn't do that even for dad.

Well, I would... and I'll bring all my favorite armed thugs to help... Or I suppose we could do christmas in New Jersey. As long as we're all together. Right?

Eleanor... you're a bitch.

Love you too, James... oh... and don't be surprised if dad hasn't already called that Cuddy Lady...

My Boss!

You know dad, I told him you'd tell me you're busy... so he was likely proactive. She is either terrified or the proud recipient of some large donation oooor "porque no los dos" as Laura would say.

James hung up the phone. He knew Ellie was serious, when Wade Wilson set his mind to it, he was focused and rarely didn't achieve his goals... a admirable trait. Until a gang of paramilitary goons show up to kidnap you so you don't miss traditional christmas eve lasagna.

-Cut to Wilson in Cuddys office-

He'd explained to her the situation... and she was well aware of the consequences. Wilson's relationship with his father was almost as crazy as his relationship with House...

She recalled a time before she was Dean of medicine. When Wade found out Wilson had received a mediocre review... he'd used his considerable influence and threats of violence to have the accreditation board threaten to pull certification from the hospital until it was remedied...

that's actually how she got the position. The previous dean was regularly harassed any time he felt Wilson was slighted, and finally, he couldn't take it anymore and retired early... to Wilsons credit, he had no idea this was going on until Cuddy took the job. the previous dean was probably threatened into silence on the subject, too...

Cuddy was never one to be bullied and had come clean with James about all of his father's antics shortly after taking the position. Wade Wilson was dangerous, but she'd be damned if she'd let a mercenary tell her how to run a hospital

Wilson quickly put a stop to this behavior and added that Cuddy was a friend knowing that bare minimum his dad would be less threatening to one of "Kittens" friends.

She agreed to give him the week off despite late notice and the myriad of other HR and staffing problems associated with being short a doctor on one condition... he had to take Greg with him... she didn't have the time or patience to Deal with the illustrious Dr House without Wilson to help her.

By the time he'd gotten back to his office house hadn't really moved much... sitting behind Wilson's desk playing on his phone...

Don't you have a patient or something to attend to?

Actually, no... none worth my time anyway... Forman and the cute australian one can handle what is obviously subclinical measles with a secondary flu infection... vaccinate your kids... idiots.

Well, since you're not busy, I guess you'd be ok leaving early with me and packing for a trip... I'd like you to come to Kansas city with me for Christmas...

Kinda short notice to book a flight. he said suspiciously

it'll be a direct flight, Private... no TSA and probably a bottle of Dom Pérignon. he said this in a tone of playful temptation.

I thought you were Jewish?

On paper I am... I converted for Bonnie when we got married, House... you were there at the wedding... I told you this.

like I keep track of your current brand of imaginary friend that closely... I do remember that marriage ending because despite converting to Judaism, you couldn't get a grasp on the Seventh Commandment in particular

Ok, ouch.

That leads me to my next question. What makes you think I want to go with you to your weird families christmas?

Because if you don't... unless you get an interesting case soon, Cuddy said you'd be scheduled 12 hour shifts in the clinic every day next week.

Damn it...

I suppose I will go with you to the middle of bum fuck and flyover and enjoy a country christmas on the ranch with you... not like I have a choice, besides I've never really had the chance to get to know your parents. I drank so much at the last wedding. The only thing I remember of them is one of them wore a red mask... and the other looked like an angry Calvin Kline model.

Kansas City is an actual metropolitan. My parents live in a high rise, not on a ranch... and dad... can be kind of shy in large groups of people he doesn't know.

Well, since im not allowed to be unsupervised, there are worse places to be in December... like the clinic, holiday ailments are the worst. At least one person has an ornament shoved up their ass... But it beats the hell out of spending the holidays with my parents. You're lucky, really. My dad was a Marine constantly moving... or abandoning me with my grandmother.

Oh, are we playing this game? I was raised by a mentally unstable warlord with a gun fetish and his Victorian era husband the worlds grummpiest teddy bear who has knives in his hands and PTSD from the American Civil War.... and a grandmother who did more drugs than every member of the Rolling stones combined, and she liked to tell me wildly inappropriate stories... usually about my dad's banging, or how she was a sultry honey pot when she worked for MI6.

well, my grandmother beat me..

Jesus fine, you win.

on that note, Johns Hopkins didn't exactly have a good mutant biology program... if they're both genetically you parents shouldn't you *waves his hands in the air making mock magical gestures* have some power

I'm pretty sure my mutant ability is loving and tolerating reprobates and assholes.

It takes one to know one, James...

Our story ends here for now... the boys go home and pack for a week in Kansas City.

Wade had indeed arranged for a car to pick them up and take them to a private air strip where a Gulfstream G700 was waiting for them

Fancy!

Trust me, it gets old quick.

Link to Chapter 3

Silly photo shop for fun.

[joeshiestyslover]

i love u

pairing: lsu!fratboy!joe burrow x volleyballplayer!reader

summary: sometimes all you need to forgive your ex is two nosy best friends

warnings: language, angst, sad joe, some fluff at the end

a/n: y’all part 2 of i hate u is finally here!!! i’m so sorry i haven’t been active! hope y’all enjoy 🫶🫶

lowercase intended

masterlist part one

the past few weeks have been complete and total hell for you. you can’t even look at joe without feeling the urge to break down and cry. you try to avoid him and his teammates at all costs, including ja’marr. you’ve been sitting on the opposite side of the room, not wanting to tell him about what happened with his best friend, but be probably already knows.

ever since that night with your ex-boyfriend, you’ve been completely self isolating. when every you’re not in class or at volleyball practice, you’re in your dorm room. eve has felt so guilty because she was basically the reason you and joe got into the argument in the first place, but you constantly assure her it wasn’t her fault. you love eve, but if there’s one thing she’s good at, it’s getting into your business. she’s been begging you to talk joe ever since you told him to get the fuck out of your room, and you tell her no every time. little do you know, her and ja’marr have been plotting for the past week to get you and joe to get back together, at the very least stand each other. 

you are walking out of your econ class when you think you hear someone calling your name. you ignore it, thinking it’s your imagination until you feel a tap on your shoulder. you turn around, and behind you stands ja’marr; your eyes widen. “hey y/n. can we talk?” he asks you. “umm yeah sure.” you reply to him , not having the energy to argue. ja’marr leads you down the hallway so you’re both outside a storage closet. “so, why did you want to talk to me?” you question, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets. “i’m sorry.” he tells you. “for what?” you ask him, confused. “for this.” ja’marr then shoves you into the closet you were just standing in front of. before you’re able to push against the door, it’s slammed shut and locked from the outside. “ja’marr let me out you dumbass! what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you begin to pound your fist on the door, but you get no response. he probably walked away, but why would he lock you in here in the first place, you think. 

you stand there for a bit before your thoughts are interrupted by the door opening. you think it’s ja’marr or someone else saving you from being trapped, but you notice another person being pushed into the closet to join you. as the door closes, you hear a, “what the hell?! let me out!” oh no. your heart drops as you hear the voice of the guy you’ve been avoiding for the past two weeks. “shit.” you whisper to yourself. 

“y/n?” joe asks you, somehow hearing your voice. “joe” you reply to him coldly. “did you get locked in here too?” he inquires. “no, i just decided to chill out in here for a few hours!” you exclaim sarcastically. joe lets out a sigh, hopefully he’s finally given up at starting a conversation with you as if you’re best buds. 

“y/n” joe speaks up again. you ignore him, not wanting a replay of a few weeks ago. “y/n please say something, anything.” he pleads. “i have nothing to say to you. i’ve already said everything i needed to.” you cross your arms over your chest, not even looking him in the eye. “okay fine then i’ll talk.” you continue to avoid his eye line. “i will never stop telling you how sorry i am for what i did. i was a stupid and an asshole. i lost sight of myself and i became someone that i didn’t like. you never deserved that. i hate myself for how i ended it with you. i’m so, so sorry.” you don’t know what to say because you really wanna forgive him, but you don’t know if you can. he hurt you more than anyone else has in your life. how do you even begin to forgive someone for that?

“joe, i understand that you feel sorry now, but you didn’t feel sorry when it first happened. you seemed to be having the time of your life, partying and hooking up with random girls while i was at home crying my eyes out every night wondering why you didn’t want me anymore. tell me, was it easy for you to forget me?” “trust me, there was never a moment where you weren’t on my mind. i thought i did what was right at first, but as time went on, i realized that i had made the biggest mistake of my life. i tried to text you, call you, and even dm you on instagram, but you blocked me, which i completely understand by the way.” joe tells you, starting to become desperate. 

“you still hurt me joe. you made me feel as if i did something wrong, like i wasn’t enough for you. i thought that you left me for someone better.” you tell him while looking at your shoes. “it’s not your fault. it has never been your fault. stop beating yourself up over something i did. i promise you i found no one else that was better than you because there is no one better. i will never find anyone i love more than you. you are truly the most amazing and the most beautiful girl i have ever met. you’re it for me y/n.” “really?” you ask him, becoming more open to the idea of forgiving him. “i promise. i love you y/n, i never stopped.” you’re finally able to look him in the eyes. “oh joe, i never stopped loving you either, but i won’t forgive except under one condition.” “anything.” you replies, hope beginning to gleam in his eyes. “you never, ever pull shit like this again. if you do, don’t expect another chance.” you state. “done. i promise i won’t break your heart again.” he begins to step closer to you. “will you kiss me now?” you ask, looking up at the blue eyes you fell in love with when you were six. joe smiles and leans his head down while cupping the sides of your face. you close your eyes and wait until joe’s lips meet yours.

you two stay like this for a while before you hear the door open. you and joe both look towards the open door and see ja’marr and eve with shit eating grins on their faces. “i told you it would work!” eve turns towards ja’marr. “you guys planned this?!” you yell at the both of them. “well yeah. we had to get you both to make up somehow, you guys were fucking miserable! and we need our quarterback to actually make plays, you know.” ja’marr tells the two of you. “i’m sorry we had to do it like this but we were desperate.” “i hate how you did it, but thank you.” joe says, looking at you lovingly. you look back at him and give him a quick peck on the lips. “awww!” you hear ja’marr and eve exclaim. “shut up.” you and joe tell your friends before letting out a loud laugh. you start to feel like your old self again. it’s as if nothing changed, and you couldn’t be happier.

[admistedenslush]

Eve of Destruction

Dark!Priest!Aemond Targaryen/Reader

TW: NON CON, fem!reader, drugging

AN: I hope the switch in point of view does not cause confusion

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In a softly lit room, you find yourself perched on a weathered wooden stool, gazing into a mirror with a subtle crack. Sunbeams delicately dance through your modest window, casting a faint glow upon your figure, adorned in a simple nightgown with delicate ribbon-fastened stockings.

With calloused fingertips, you traced the contours of your face, pinching your cheeks for a touch of color. Completing your daily morning ritual, you embarked on a task at the behest of your affluent father, a skilled goldsmith who presided over his own shop.

Clutching a hand-woven basket protectively by your side, you ventured into the bustling streets of the village center. Amidst the vibrant marketplace, an older woman grinned at you as she prodded her collection of spices.

“Just imported from Dorne,” she boasted, her voice laced with mischief.

Smiling at her, you replied, “Just some sugar, please. There's no need to brag—I know you sell only the finest.” Handing her a few copper pennies, you concluded the transaction.

Off in the distance, observing from a fruit stand, the town's priest, Aemond Targaryen, maintained a stern countenance. Anxiously, he squeezed a fresh lemon, his agitation evident as sour juice dripped down his hand.

The man harbored an aversion towards old maids —a belief instilled in him by his religious associates that older, unmarried women held malevolent intentions. Witnessing you, a beautiful young maiden engage in conversation and make purchases from the questionable female merchant troubled him greatly.

Although Aemond recognized you from church, encounters were infrequent. He could not help but adore the sight, your delicate curls peeking from beneath a plain cotton cap and your flawless skin aglow in candlelight.

Passionate thoughts swirled inside him, intensifying his yearning. Aware of the detectability of his intentions, yet driven by a perceived necessity, Aemond Targaryen resolved himself to take action.

𐕣

The following day, the priest set out early on his journey to visit the reputed “witch” at the street market. As he walked along the picturesque path, he contemplated the intricacies of life and the lengths to which people go in pursuit of something as pure as true love. Simple-minded was the Priest.

Upon arriving at the older woman's booth, the priest made his presence known with an ostentatious cough and a disdainful gaze.

“How may I assist you, sir?” she murmured, nimble fingers interlocking as they cracked.

In a rushed and fearful tone, his eyes darting around the foggy surroundings, he whispered, “I am in need of a remedy for sleep deprivation, perhaps a sedative?”

The woman frowned, deepening the wrinkles on her face, and pressed her dry lips together in the chilly autumn morning. Doubt crept into her mind about his true need for such a remedy, but regardless, she opted to assist the man.

“I happen to have a concoction that is perfect for your needs, sir… It's a combination of herbs and oils that works wonders!”

“Very well… And how much would this… remedy cost?” he inquired.

With a smile directed at her customer, the woman relished in the business at hand, finding pleasure in her ability to profit, regardless of the identity of her clientele.

𐕣

Lacking a mother and with a father consumed by work, you shouldered the responsibility of cooking, cleaning, and tending to the various chores around the house. With no siblings to assist you, friendly neighbors occasionally lend a helping hand. On this particular day, you embarked on the preparation of a meal featuring chicken and potatoes. The potatoes were already peeled and simmering in the kitchen. It was time for the next step.

Embracing a lively and clucking chicken, you approached your neighbor's porch and called out for the farm boy.

“Jace!…Jace…Oh, please!”

The boy came running to your aid, gasping and breathless.

“What happened? What's wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You gently revealed the chicken still nestled against your chest.

“Could you please slaughter this chicken for me?” you whispered softly, tears welling in your desperate eyes.

“It's no trouble at all! I'll be happy to do it,” Jace responded warmly.

He took the chicken from your nurturing hold, inadvertently brushing his hand against your damp palm. Jace peered into your sorrowful face, his heart aching for you. Regardless, he smiled as he positioned the chicken on the wooden block.

“You're so tender-hearted and sweet,” he remarked.

With a single swift motion, the chicken's head was abruptly severed, blood spilling onto the woodblock below.

Seated side by side on a decaying bench, you and Jace carefully plucked feathers from the lifeless creature. Occasional glances were exchanged between the two of you, catching each other staring. At that moment, it was the most beautiful evening you had experienced in a long time. A sense of profound joy washed over you, as if the world had tenderly embraced your being, infusing you with a soothing warmth that refused to let go.

“Ah, I should get going… the potatoes are still boiling,” you remarked, feeling a mixture of reluctance and excitement.

You hurried inside, but not before glancing back, shamelessly grinning at Jace, tilting your head and stretching your neck enticingly.

“Save me some food, won't you?” the boy giggled, his eyes filled with mirth.

𐕣

Sunday was the day when I would rightfully seize what was truly mine. My beloved sweetling was always faithfully attending church on Sundays, never daring to miss the service. As the somber ceremony unfolded, I meticulously prepared the consecrated elements, with a sinister focus on the bread. This bread, destined for her consumption, had already succumbed to the vile touch of the necessary evil bestowed upon me. I cannot take full blame, for I had assistance in my actions.

Throughout the ritual, I clutched it tightly in my hand, its presence serving as a chilling reminder of my nefarious purpose. As the line began to form, my sweetling found herself twelfth in line, unknowingly inching closer to her fate. With each passing moment, a wicked anticipation grew within me, anticipation for the moment when our eyes would meet. Finally, she stood before me, her innocent gaze locking with my predatory stare. In that fleeting instant, I almost forgot the sinister reason behind my presence. It was our first intimate encounter.

“Body of Christ…"

“Amen…"

I watched her devour the bread, and with a slow stride, I passed by her. Briefly, my arm brushed against her shoulder, providing a fleeting warmth that offered a momentary solace in the chilling confines of the church. The congregation began to take their seats, oblivious to the darkness unfolding. I couldn't help but fixate on my sweetling, her countenance gradually relaxing, devoid of any emotion. The effects of the tainted product were taking hold swiftly, and I realized the extent of its potency. I understood that my plan had succeeded, and a shiver of satisfaction coursed through my veins.

After a while, the room grew eerily silent as people started to leave, their voices reduced to muffled whispers and their footsteps fading into the distance. The surrounding seats emptied, leaving only a handful of stragglers. From a distance, I watched her, a supposed sleeping girl, her vulnerability stark against the backdrop of indifference. No one reached out to offer help or even spared a passing glance. The collective indifference was a cruel reminder of the harsh reality we inhabit. And as I beheld this cruel scene, an unbidden smile crept across my face, pride that I couldn't suppress. I approached her slowly and cautiously, my steps measured and deliberate. There she lay, resembling a late summer nymph, peacefully snoring like a kitten. Gently, I touched her forehead, my hand sliding beneath her hood to reveal a simple plait in her hair. With a light touch, I loosened the braid, letting her hair cascade freely.

Taking out my pocket knife, I carefully began to cut open her modest dress. At that moment, her eyes fluttered open, and her index and middle fingers tapped irregularly on the armchair. The only swift movement came from her eyes, shifting from right to left, and then right again, an unsettling rhythm.

"Whhas..whhaA.."

I watched as she grappled to string together a coherent sentence, her words stumbling and faltering along the way.

Then I started and didn't stop.

Gently grasping her bosom, applying pressure to feel their firmness. Resting my head against their velvety skin, I deeply breathed in her sweet aroma. With gentle motion, my finger delicately slips into her wet cunt before being brought back into my mouth. I find her utterly delicious.

Consumed by an overwhelming desire, I reached a tipping point where I simply had to satisfy my craving. Carefully fiddling with the laces on my breeches, I extracted my cock and eagerly plunged into her. Intermittently, our gazes intertwined and a solitary tear traced down her delicate cheek. And when I was done, I made her decent and went home.

𐕣

Trapped in the suffocating grip of immobilizing paralysis, your mind became a twisted maze, rendering coherent thought an elusive mirage. Your desperate attempts to gather your scattered musings were futile, as they slipped through your grasp like sand slipping through an open hand.

Gradually, whispers of distant voices and fleeting glimpses of faces emerged from the depths of the ethereal realm. A swarm of eyes, suspended in the air, fixated their piercing gaze upon you, their silent judgment seeping into your vulnerable state.

"Leave... leave me be," you called out in a hoarse voice, the plea laced with desperation. But they persisted, unyielding to your pleas, forcing you to shut your eyes in an attempt to shield yourself from their relentless scrutiny.

And then, amidst the darkness, you saw him - the mirror image of the haunting figure etched in your mind. His white hair cascading like a waterfall, and his eye, a haunting shade of lilac, drilling into the depths of your soul. A wave of nausea churned your stomach, and cold sweat trickled down your forehead as you tried to steady your breath, inhaling deeply.

But as anxiety consumed you, an uncomfortable cramp seized your body, and shortly after, your frail form succumbed to the violent upheaval of vomiting. Panic surged within you as you fought to sit up, feeling weak and breathless. With trembling hands, you attempted to salvage your torn dress, desperately trying to maintain a semblance of dignity amidst the chaos enveloping you.

Strange voices began to echo around you, their words snaking into your consciousness. Shadows lurked in every corner of the church, their presence casting a sinister pall over the space.

"I... I didn't do anything," you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion, as doubts crept into your mind.

"Did you really?" the voices whispered back, their tone laced with accusation, their words slithering like venomous serpents.

𐕣

@valleyof-goldenlilies