#guilt free zone

[gmos]

on a material level i understand white americans gravitating towards "pagan" "witchcraft" involving various non-christian deities. but in a more real sense, to anyone with a storebought altar to a deity they have no cultural connection to, i wish you had never even touched that greek mythology book in your elementary school library

[monster-effer]

ADHD reader x LaDS headcanons

Summary: My headcanons on how the LaDS men would be with a reader who has ADHD. Content: Sylus x reader, Xavier x reader, Rafayel x reader, Zayne x reader, Caleb x reader (separate), ADHD mention, impulse control issues, money management issues, inattentiveness, forgetfulness, hyperfixations, Caleb being toxic™, a smidgen of angst, fluff, gn!reader, no reader pronouns mentioned (1.4k wc) A/N: These are some headcanons I wrote in response to a request I received on AO3. I included some of the traits mentioned based on personal experience with my loved ones + ones mentioned in the request.

To my ADHD babies: I hope y’all like this ♡

Sylus – impulse control issues + poor money management

You and Sylus have been dating for a few months now, and during that time he’s become well acquainted with a few things:

You are diagnosed with ADHD You are impulsive when it comes to fun purchases You struggle with money management

He has seen how you put yourself into tight financial situations because you cannot resist buying a special edition plushie that just released at midnight.

On multiple occasions you have spent countless hours and your last dollar at the arcade trying to nab a plushie that is smooshed into the corner of the claw machine. Some days you get the plushie you want and other days you don’t. But in either scenario, you end up eating ramen noodles until your next paycheck hits.

Although you have tried to hide this impulsive side of yourself, Sylus doesn’t miss a single thing about you. He has eyes, ears and a crow at his disposal in and outside of the N109 Zone.

He has no interest in trying to “correct” this part of you, instead he tries to help you in his own way.

He gives you his black card so you can impulsively purchase whatever you want, guilt free. And when you refuse to use it, he replaces your payment information with his on each website you frequently use to go shopping.

You eventually notice this and re-enter your information, but Sylus would follow up and replace it with his card information once again. He was relentless, and eventually you gave in.

He also (secretly) became the owner of the arcade you frequent so you get unlimited coins and can hog the claw machine for as long as you like without being disturbed.

He never wants you to fall behind on your bills or have to skip a fun purchase due to the limitations of your bank account. Sylus is filthy rich and has everything he could ever ask for, including you.

Nothing else in this world gives him as much pleasure as fulfilling your desires and he will always strive to do so.

Rafayel – lost in thought/ignore your surroundings

Every time Rafayel meets you in a new timeline, he notices small differences. In one you were a member of the royal family desperate to escape your responsibilities, in another you were an author, and in this one…he’s not quite sure what to make of you yet.

You were noticeably introspective, to the point that you often get lost in your thoughts. Blocking out any and every attempt to get your attention unless he is exceedingly persistent.

At first, this concerned him because he thought you weren’t interested in him. It felt like the ultimate rejection, and it hurt him deeply in way that he could only express in Lemurian.

But as you got to know each other you shared with him that you are diagnosed with ADHD. Which results in your inattentiveness.

Rafayel was relieved to have an explanation for this phenomenon and from that day he forms a new habit in response.

When you two are hanging out at his place, yours or in public he always carries a sketchbook with him. He never misses the opportunity to depict your visage when you are lost in the multitude of thoughts that race through your head.

Luckily for him, your mind wanders frequently when you’re together, and so far he has five sketchbooks filled entirely with your beautiful face. Some of the sketches are unfinished and others are completed with color, it just depends on when you come back to him.

Rafayel is always patient with you and never tries to “fix” you because you are his perfectly imperfect muse.

Caleb – impulsivity, daydreaming, hyperfixations

Caleb knows everything about you, from the various ways ADHD manifests in your daily life, to the fact that thunderstorms scare you.

He has witnessed your impulsiveness firsthand when it comes to jumping headfirst into danger. And although he’s seen it time and time again, it never makes it easy for him to bear. He feels overwhelmingly protective of you, he wants to hold you close and never let go. But he knows that you value your freedom and independence. So, he tries to dampen his controlling tendencies. At least the very obvious ones.

There are times when he has been mid-conversation with you, only for you to stop replying. And when he looks over, he can already tell that you’re lost in your own world. He takes this time to observe you with no repercussions. To really take you in, because you always berate him for his “creepy” staring otherwise.

And for completely selfish reasons he loves the fact that you’re currently hyperfixated on him since he’s returned from the dead. You may try to hide it, but he can tell that you’re absolutely obsessed with him. He thinks it’s sooooo cute how you blow up his phone, want to occupy all of his time when he is in Linkon and how you bombard him with question after question about what he got up to during his time away.

He knows that sometimes your hyperfixations don’t last long. But there are some you’ve held onto since you were kids. He secretly hopes that your hyperfixation on him lasts a lifetime, as wrong as that may be.

Although he feels a little guilty about enjoying it so much, he is in love with you. He wants no one else and it gives him a rush to know that you feel the same, in your own way.

Xavier – forgetfulness + daydreaming

Xavier has traversed time and space to find you again and keep you safe. He cherishes every moment he gets to spend like it was his last.

When he opens up to you, you feel comfortable enough to do the same. During your heart to hearts you share with him that you have ADHD. It affects your memory in a way that is hard to describe, but you settle on the description of “out of sight out a mind.” This combined with your tendency to get lost in your own thoughts has resulted in more than a few mishaps throughout your life.

Once Xavier is aware of this, he makes it his mission to always be by your side, so you don’t forget him. You try to explain that that would be impossible because he is such an important person to you and also your mission partner, but he is stubborn. Because to him, nothing could be worse than you, the light of his life, forgetting that he existed. Even for a brief moment.

When you lose track of time and almost miss an appointment, Xavier is there to teleport you to your destination.

When you almost miss work because you forgot to set your alarm for the 10th time in the past 2 weeks, he is gently nudging you awake.

He does not see your inattentiveness and forgetfulness as character flaws. They are just a part of what makes you uniquely you.

If Xavier has to serve as your personal planner and alarm clock sometimes, he doesn’t mind. Because you are the most important person to him.

Zayne – hyperfixation

Zayne has a sharp memory, so when you two meet again as adults he is already aware that you have ADHD tendencies. Now he sees you have an official diagnosis once he accesses your medical records for the first time.

He has a logical explanation for why you engage in the behaviors that others may find frustrating to deal with, like your almost unbreakable concentration when you are hyperfixated on something.

Your brain lacks dopamine, so you are naturally drawn to stimulating activities, which results in you locking in when a new activity, show, or topic captures your attention.

Zayne would never push medication used to manage ADHD on you, unless you expressed interest in them.

He would actively monitor you when you get into one of those hyper focused moods though. He would periodically bring you water, meals/snacks, snap you out of your trance for stretch breaks and urge you to sleep if you show no signs of winding down for the day.

IMO Zayne would be a very accommodating partner because he knows medically what’s going on and he would never get annoyed with you for chasing what fuels you.

But there is one stipulation, he wants to be by your side to make sure that you are properly caring for yourself. Because your health and wellbeing mean the world to him, as your doctor and your partner.

[thevillainswhore]

Dancing With The Devil II

Pairing: Alternative!Bucky Barnes x Cheerleader!F!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Summary: It’s the night of the fundraiser, and after a few heated encounters with the one boy you should be staying away from, the tension between you finally comes to its peak when Bucky visits the kissing booth.

Warnings: College AU, bad boy v. good girl trope, inexperienced!reader, jealousy, kissing, dirty talk, smut, fingering, daddy kink, p in v penetration, tit/ass slapping, tit sucking/biting, degradation, mentions of fisting, mild drug use.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Divider by @saradika-graphics. Part 2 and the final installation to this fic — Dancing With The Devil ❤️ song inspo: Chase Atlantic - Slow Down. Thank you for all the lovely comments for the first part, I will get round to responding, I promise 🤍 enjoy x

The night of the fundraiser had arrived; your college campus was set up with an array of stalls that were all decorated beautifully. But you were proud to say, thanks to your hard work, that the cheerleader’s stall, embellished in shades of pink and red, was a show stopper.

The kissing booth had been a huge success so far. Hundreds of students had joined in on the fun and you witnessed many shy pecks to the cheek, some very awkward kisses and a few audacious make outs that had the gathered crowd whistling and hollering. 

Even your own cheeks heated as you discreetly watched the more outgoing boys slide their tongues into your teammate’s mouths, wondering how such an insatiable kiss felt. 

Luckily, Sharonl had been by your side all night, inadvertently keeping you self-aware and in check of your own thirstiness. 

Somehow, you had managed to convince Daisy to let you be a part of the kissing booth. You weren’t all too fussed that she had put you on the sidelines, unable to participate as you were stationed on ticket collection. In fact, you were more relieved. 

A few students had tried to choose you for a kiss and without fail Daisy came rushing over each time to instantly shut them down, harshly explaining that you were only the help. 

While it stung, you were kind of grateful. You had no desire to kiss anyone. Almost anyone, anyway.  

Sharon had redirected your wandering gaze every time you looked through the crowd. You knew it was silly to look for Bucky, even when he asked for you to be there. But a small slither of hope within you couldn’t shut the possibility down, even if it was just to see him in passing. 

Your thoughts had been stuck on him all week. From your waking moments to the silent ones at night on your own while you were trying to fall asleep. His scent seemed to follow you, no matter where you went and his salacious grin, rotting your brain, had gotten you in trouble a few times while you zoned out in class. 

Bucky was a drug you craved — one you couldn’t shake, even if you didn’t really want to. 

In your peripheral vision, you caught a familiar face trying to discreetly peek around the side of a stall opposite you and get a glimpse over in your direction. 

“You know, Shar. You never actually told me if you had any plans tonight.” It was true. She had been too busy dealing with your own crisis for you to consider how she could be spending her time. 

Your friend shrugged while sipping on her fruity slushie. “Nope. I’m a free woman, spending time with my girl.” 

Guilt began to settle in your stomach, then. Sharon had been by your side all night, refusing to help set up the kissing booth when Daisy set you on the sidelines. And by the sight of her man, hiding out just to get to see her, you knew she must have blown plans with him to be with you. Instead, she had decided to be a good friend and keep you company. 

You slammed your own drink onto the makeshift table with a sigh. “Sharon, you can’t stay here.”

She abruptly stopped sucking up the last of her drink through the straw to look at you like you had grown two heads. “And why the hell can’t I?” 

Pointing your finger over to a freshly caught, red faced Steve, you gave her a deadpan glare. “Because right there is your man, literally stumbling over his own feet just to see you. That’s why.” 

You watched closely as your friend took a quick glance at her boyfriend, tightening her lips with amusement before shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you scolded, ignoring her attempt to butt in. “Just because I’m on ticket duty, it doesn’t mean you have to waste your night with me. You should be over there with him! He looks like a lost puppy.” 

Sharon scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t be silly, I like being over here with you.” But you couldn’t quite believe her when you caught her once again sneaking a look over to him with a longing in her eyes. 

“Shar.” You leveled with her, grabbing her hand with an honest smile. “I promise I’ll be okay, go have fun with your man.” 

She looked as though she was about to retort back, though before she could, you stood up and brought her with you. “I mean it.” 

Your best friend looked skeptical for a second before she gave in with a sigh. “You’re sure you’ll be fine?” 

“Positive.” You reassured her instantly with a bright smile. “Now go! Shoo—go smooch Stevie and tell me all about it later.” 

Sharon pulled you into a crushing hug, rocking you dramatically from side to side while she squealed in excitement. “I promise, I promise! Thank you, sweets! You’re a fucking angel.” Squeezing you tightly one last time, she eventually let go, kissing your cheek with a wet smooch and taking off to her boyfriend. 

Slumping back into your seat, you wiped your cheek and watched as Steve caught your friend into his arms, spinning her around with a huge grin and bright eyes. You sighed in bittersweet happiness, truly glad to see your friend so loved up — you didn’t regret sending her off at all. 

Even if you were now pathetically alone, working the ticket collection of the kissing booth you put together. 

The line of students queuing up to hand in their one free kiss tickets seemed never ending as the night went on. You collected so many that the thought of seeing another physically made you feel sick — you didn’t even bother to look at whoever was in line anymore, fixated on your only entertainment of the evening; watching everyone but you enjoy the kissing festivities. 

So when the next forsaken pink ticket with a lipstick print came into your line of vision, you sighed with bitterness. 

“You can go through,” you mumbled while you reached up to take the token. But as you tried to pull it into your hold, you were met with resistance. 

You frowned, beginning to look up. “I said you can—“ 

“Oh, I heard you loud and clear, Bunny.” Devilish, bright blue eyes stared you down. “But believe me when I say I’d rather stay here.” 

It took everything in your power to stay composed. Bucky actually came, your mind internally screamed at you. 

Your nerves went haywire while the two of you still held onto the ticket. As the night had progressed, your hope to see him dwindled by the second until you eventually gave up. But as he currently stood in front of you, eyeing your body in your cheer uniform, you had a hard time not throwing yourself over the table at him. 

“H-Hi, Bucky,” you whispered, still a little awestruck. 

He smirked. “Hey, you.” The finger that held tight to the ticket caressed over yours, sending a shudder down your spine. “Good turn out, then?” 

You cleared your throat. “Mhm, we’ve raised a lot of money so far.” That’s when you noticed two of his friends behind him. “I see you brought company.” 

“I’m a man of my word, sweetheart.” Bucky grinned until he raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d actually be at the kissing booth, though. Not collecting the tickets for it.” 

“Oh,” you muttered. How could you put it without sounding so lame? “Yeah about that—“ 

Before you could try to explain, Daisy came trotting towards you and the entirety of your body filled with dread. Instantly dropping your hold on the ticket, she was soon by your side wearing her practiced fake smile. 

“Newbie,” she called, gratingly. “What is with the hold up? I gave in and let you do this because I thought you weren’t so incompetent after all.” 

Daisy’s harsh words cut into you like a knife and you slumped into yourself, embarrassed to be scolded in front of Bucky. 

You missed how she glanced to the queue, subtly changing her tune once she realised who was watching. “Come on, honey,” she said in a sickly sweet voice. “You’re not just letting me down, you’re letting the team down. I know you can do better than this.” 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you mumbled, “Sorry, Daisy.” You were so angry at yourself. The thought that Bucky had seen the whole exchange had you suppressing the urge to bolt it out of there.

But you were even more mortified as you looked up and witnessed Daisy twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes in front of him. “You’re Bucky, right? The one who beat up Tony Stark?” 

You watched silently while he looked her up and down. Though it was the exact opposite of the way he looked at you, you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your stomach that he may be interested in her. 

“It’s actually James,” he said, face devoid of his  happy expression from earlier.

“Huh?” Daisy replied. 

You thought you heard Bucky scoff, but you told yourself you were hearing things. “My name is James.” 

Daisy laughed. “But I’ve heard people call you Bucky.” Leaning over the table, she not so discreetly pushed her chest together with her arms, a pout on her lips. “Don’t you want me to call you that too?” 

A thick haze of green burned your skin. You weren't sure how long you could take watching their back and forth, especially when the one person who disliked you was so obviously flirting with your crush.  

To your surprise though, Bucky didn’t once let his gaze falter down, inherently keeping his eyes on hers. “No. I already told you my name is James.” 

Daisy reeled back a little, shocked that her usual tactics of spinning boys’ into her web was going down the drain. “Anyway,” clearing her throat, she recovered quickly. “I see you bought a ticket. So I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that any of our cheerleaders in the lineup are available for a kiss.” She flicked her hair over her shoulders and added, “Me included.” 

You ducked your head, trying to force down the sick feeling rising up your throat. Bucky choosing Daisy would break your heart. You already knew you had become quite besotted over him, but with the new tortuous idea of them in your head that could soon become reality, your heart felt like it was ripping out of your chest. 

Unable to see his expression, you missed how his  eyes flicked to you, a handsome smile he only reserved for you on his face. “Easy.” He licked his lips. “I pick my Bunny.” 

“What?” Both Daisy and you looked at him in shock; you instantly snapped your gaze up to him with wide eyes while she scowled in frustration. 

Bucky kept his eyes on you with his next words. “How about it, pretty girl? Wanna kiss me?” 

Your mouth dropped open, jaw unhinged. No words were able to formulate together to answer him quick enough before you were interrupted once again. 

“Unfortunately,” Daisy snapped. “You can’t kiss her, you can only choose from the line up.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bucky begrudgingly looked back at her. “Says who?” 

“Me,” she retorted smugly as she crossed her arms. 

He scoffed. “No one—least of all you—is gonna tell me who I can kiss.” 

You gulped, head still swimming with the fact Bucky was putting up a fight to kiss you. 

“It’s the rules!” Daisy shouted, garnering the attention of more people. 

Exasperated, Bucky sighed. “Listen, Dorothy—“

“It’s Daisy.” 

“—If I were interested in you,” he spoke over her. “I would have asked for you. That is the whole concept behind this kissing booth, right? You know the idea you didn’t come up with.” 

Daisy’s cheeks turned bright red while the people who listened in from the queue snickered at her expense. 

Bucky glanced back at you, his lips curling up while he still directed his words to her. “I should be grateful, though. You just made my job of making sure no one else got to Bunny before me so much easier. Thanks Denise, you can go now.” 

The hushed laughter of the students was agonizing, even for you. Therefore there was only so much painful embarrassment the ice queen herself could take. Defeated, Daisy spun around with a huff and stormed off. 

You followed her retreating back, half panicked about the fallout it could cause in the future. But you were brought back to the present as Bucky held his hand palm up between you. “What do you say, then? Wanna get outta here, Bunny?”

Looking up at him, his eyes gleamed with mischief and satisfaction. A small bout of confidence gave you the courage to stand up, take his hand and be led into what was bound to be danger. “Yes please.” 

His hand engulfed yours while he trailed you away from the swarm of people on campus, whoops and hollers fading into the distance, and to a secluded alleyway. Gently, Bucky backed you up against the wall and stood in front of you, leaving hardly any room between you. The light breeze along with the cold bricks chilled your bare arms from your cheer outfit as goosebumps cascaded over your skin. 

“You cold, angel?” Bucky asked, a tenderness to his voice. 

“N-No, not r-really.” You tried to lie, not wanting to be a pain. But the stutter to your response as you shivered didn’t help your case.

He smiled while he shook his head. “Stubborn girl.” Pulling his arms out of the sleeves, Bucky shucked off his hoodie and wrapped it over your shoulders. “Perfect.”

His intoxicating scent hit you all at once — it was an effort to not bury your head into the material and deeply inhale. 

Instead, you shyly gazed into his eyes. “I actually wanted to thank you for the other day. With—with Tony,” you clarified. “I didn’t get to say it before.” 

Bucky drew closer to you. “That was nothing, pretty girl.”

The thick tension in the air and the proximity between you, so similar to the events in the storage closet, caused you to overshare. “You’re not actually so scary Bucky—like everyone says you are. You’re actually kind of like a big teddy—“ You cut yourself off, too embarrassed to continue what you were saying. 

He lifted your chin with his finger to look at him. “Ah ah, don’t stop there, Bunny.” His nickname for you sent tingles shooting up your thighs. “Carry on.” 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I was going to say you remind me of a teddy bear, because you’re soft on the inside even if you do look a little scary on the outside.” Biting your bottom lip, you slowly opened your eyes. 

Bucky smirked. “Yeah? You scared a’me, sweetheart?” 

“Nu-uh,” you whispered as you shook your head with hooded eyes, placing your hands over his chest. “I really like how you look.” 

Bucky grinned even wider. His large hands firmly gripped your face, eyes boring into yours. “I like how you look too, baby.” He pressed you further against the wall, licking his lips with animalistic hunger. His thumb smoothed over the pulse in your neck, watching with rapt attention as he felt the steady pump of blood.

Bucky was intense, full on and the epitome of your parent’s worst nightmare. But you just couldn’t find it in you to care. Sharon’s warnings, the common sense in your head — they were fighting a losing battle. You were doomed from the moment you met him. 

“Y’know what else I like, Angel?” Bucky closed the distance between you, the weight of his body delicious while he skimmed his lips over the sensitive skin of your neck. “I like that a sweet innocent little thing like you can’t stay away from me either.” 

“You don’t make it very easy,” you gasped as his tongue swept over the skin behind your ear. 

He chuckled breathily. “Does your friend know you’re with me?”

You timidly shook your head. “N-No. She's with her b-boyfriend.”

“Oh.” The sensation of his teeth scraping the lobe of your ear forced a whine out of you. “So my Bunny’s bein’ a bad girl, right now?”

Your fingers tangled in the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Mhm.” 

“Good,” he growled. “You’re not escapin’ me this time. No running away from Bear. I paid for my kiss after all.” 

With a crazed look in his eyes, he ripped himself out of your neck and tightened his fingers into your hair, pulling you into him to crush his lips against yours. 

“Mmph!” There was no time to process what was happening. Bucky’s fervid desire was blazing, like he couldn’t possibly stand the thought of not touching you for another second. 

His tongue snaked into your mouth and you moaned at the delectable feel of his piercing flicking against your own tongue. The wet slaps of your lips while you made out echoed down the dingy alleyway; it was far from a comfy bed, but the rough brick scraping against your back strangely heightened your excitement. 

Bucky suddenly grabbed your leg and hiked it over his hips. Saliva strung from his lips as he quickly pulled away to breathe into your open mouth. “Holy shit.” His chest rose and fell erratically, but a salacious grin decorated his face as though the struggle to catch his breath was exhilarating to him. “You’re sexy as fuck, Bunny.”

Your head spun from desire, a burning fever coursing through your veins like never before. “I’m so dizzy,” you slurred, completely relying on Bucky for balance.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he cooed before grinding his hips against your heat. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” 

The material of his denim jeans rubbed tantalisingly over your thin underwear — you felt the full force of his bulge against your covered cunt as your tiny skirt raised up. 

You clawed desperately at his neck while your eyes rolled back. “Bear—please—”

“That’s right. Sing for me, baby,” he murmured, eyeing your neck with want. Your cries bounced off the brick walls when he began sucking your skin, just above your collarbone. 

“Never—oh god—I've never done anything like this before,” you panted.

Bucky pulled away with a wet pop. You watched as his eyes dilated at the sight of a dark hickey staining your neck. “Don’t you fuckin’ worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Sharon’s warning still danced around in your head, a small voice clinging on to your last shred of restraint. “But—”

“Shh, Bunny baby.” He looked at you then, with his bright blue eyes and swollen lips. You hung onto his every word, even when the tips of his fingers teased the inside of your thigh. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re with me now.” 

And just as Bucky pulled the soaked gusset of your panties to the side, you knew you were a devout sinner, ready to let him take over the entirety of your mind when he said, “Daddy’s never gonna let his Angel go.” 

The pads of his two fingers slowly slid through the middle of your folds, the substantial amount of slick making the glide easy for him. “Oh fuck me,” he gasped. “Baby, you’re fuckin’ drippin’.” 

Words were lost on you. Your nails dug deeply into his arms while you struggled to stand on one leg without shaking. “I—oh my god—I can’t.” 

You missed the awestruck expression on Bucky’s face as he watched his own fingers move over your sex, the glisten of his rings coated with your arousal. With a sudden growl, he slapped your pussy, splatters of your wetness flicking over his forearm while you yelped in surprise. “Mm—that’s the good shit right there.” 

He seemed to be entranced, lost in his own world as you clung to him. “Bear,” you whined needily. “Bear, I need you.” 

But your cries went ignored. At least, only until he slowly sunk two fingers into your tight hole and made you scream out his name. “Bucky!” 

The groan that rumbled through his chest vibrated through your whole body. His free arm slithered around your waist and pulled you into him. Blowing the strands of hair dangling in front of his eyes, he stared you down while he continued to fuck you with his fingers, each time grinding them into you as deep as possible and basking in the fluttering of your eyes. “You fuckin’ love that, don’t you, huh? Love Daddy shoving his fingers so far into your wet cunt?” 

All you could do was nod dumbly, your head heavy and clouded over with lust. 

“Of course you fuckin’ do.” Bucky laughed before suddenly pulling his fingers out of you and leaving you emptier than you felt before him. 

You whined loudly with the sudden loss of fullness and slumped against him. “W-What—what’s goin’—Bucky—”

The sound of slurping beside your ear caused you to lift your heavy head with immense effort to the sight of Bucky sucking each of his fingers that had just been inside of you, like a starved bear. It winded you. He made sure to lick down to the knuckles, not a drop of your essence left untouched, even as he rolled his tongue over his rings. 

You watched, dazed and dizzy until he hummed in satisfaction and finally opened his eyes to look at you. “You taste fuckin’ incredible.” 

The fuzziness of your head switched off the part of your brain that made you tremble in his presence. You were holding on by a thread as you mumbled a “T-Thank you.” 

A couple of seconds passed by with your heaving breaths and an unbearable knot pulsing away in your lower stomach. Though, Bucky soon interrupted the silence. “Wanna come take a look at my car?”

You frowned, an unfulfilled orgasm made you feel delirious. Had you heard him right? He had just stuffed you with his fingers, literally leaving you a disheveled mess on his shoulder and he asked if you wanted to go see his car?

“It’s a Mustang Mach 1. She’s a real beauty.” Bucky offered, as though the model type would sway you to say yes when you knew absolutely nothing about cars. He seemed so casual and so the only way you thought to act was the complete same. 

Nodding your head, you took a deep breath and replied. “S-Sure.” 

Grabbing your hand, he grinned and began walking you to the parking lot of the campus. 

Little did you know, your very own devil was about to drag you into the pits of hell, tarnishing your white wings and making you his queen of the underworld. 

“Oh my god—Bear, please!” 

“Right fuckin’ there baby, ride my fuckin’ dick like the good girl you are.” Bucky’s fingers dug into the skin of your hips while you bounced on his cock, the skirt of your uniform bunched around your waist. “That's it, Bunny. Keep on hoppin’ for daddy, sweet girl.”

When Bucky had asked if you wanted to see his car, you truly thought that was what his intentions were. Even if he had just fucked you with his fingers, your naivety still let you believe he had no ulterior motives. Oh, how wrong you were. 

You followed him blindly when he wanted to show you the interior, thinking nothing of the fact that he made you climb over the console and into the backseat for comfortability. 

But now, as the windows fogged up and your bare tits bounced up and down since Bucky had torn his hoodie and the shirt of your cheer uniform over your shoulders, the only nonsensical thought your mind could supply was how much of a sucker you were for temptation — an innocent lamb ready to sin. 

The meat of your asscheeks clapped against his thick thighs while your hand slammed against the window; the built up perspiration inside the car coming away as your palm slid down with a screech. “So—so big—you’re so big, Bear.” 

Bucky’s sweat-stricken hair stuck to each side of his temple and he grunted deeply while the sound of your slick sloshed over his cock. “God, you’re leakin’ all over my dick.” He looked down and grinned at the sight of him stretching your hole wide open. “So fuckin’ wet for me, bun bun.” 

Your needy whines were music to his ears as you threw your head back. “Mm—can’t help it—you— you do this to m-me.” 

That seemed to please him greatly. “Yeah, Bunny?”

Bucky grabbed you by the chin, the chunky rings on his fingers indenting marks onto your protruding cheeks. “Who’s cock is stuffin’ your cunt full, huh? Who’s fuckin’ makin’ you soaked? Tell me, baby.” 

“Y-You, Bear,” you moaned.

But Bucky wasn’t satisfied. “Say it like you fuckin’ mean it.” 

“You’re keeping me full, baby! Daddy’s making me all wet!”

Bucky groaned with a sinister smile. “That’s more fuckin’ like it.” The thrust of his hips began to piston up into you and his balls slapped against the meat of your ass with the force. “Look at ya—all dumbed out ‘cause Daddy’s so deep in your hole.”  

Drool started to dribble down your chin. The tip of his cock hit the sensitive nerves in your cunt just right and words were the last thing on your mind. “Can’t even think for me, can you, baby?” 

The car bobbed up and down with the fast rhythm between the two of you, the suspension taking most of the beating. If you were of more sane mind, you would have been mortified with the thought of the scene should anyone walk by the parking lot. But as the muscles in your thighs burned from exertion, you couldn’t find it in you to care; not for the life of you would you stop, not when you had never felt such sinful pleasure in all your life. “I'm aching, Bear—please—I need more.” 

Bucky’s eyes rolled back with the sweetest plea he had ever heard. With a growl, he ripped his hands from your waist and spanked your tits before wrapping them both around your neck to bring you nose to nose with him. “Don’t gotta do anything else but this baby, keep makin’ me feel good, yeah? Gonna fuckin’ blow soon.” 

“Oh,” you whimpered. Your clit tingled with the prospect of Bucky cumming inside of your cunt and with a newfound energy, you worked harder to ride his cock. 

Gazing at you with hooded eyes, he chuckled deliriously. “Sound good, bunny? Want me to blow my load inside a’ya?” 

“Yes!” you pleaded, nodding your head desperately. “Want you to cum in my tight pussy, Bear.” 

He laughed hysterically. “Look at how far you’ve come, Angel. Taking what you want like you own it.” 

Your nails dug into the skin of Bucky’s chest. The quick glide of his cock in and out of your cunt was too much for you, so much that your mouth hung open shamelessly.

“Such a good slut for me, bunny—you wanna be my slutty little bunny, huh?” Gripping your throat tightly, he manhandled you away from his forehead to hold you up like a ragdoll. When you didn’t answer he lightly slapped your cheek until your eyes widened and looked at him. “Answer me you fuckin’ slut.” 

“Yes Daddy!” you cried. “Please—I just wanna cum. Let me cum!” 

Bucky bit his bottom lip as he looked down at your pussy sucking him in. “I don’t know, pretty baby. I don’t think you wan’ it bad enough.” 

He was toying with you. You were a wreck in his hold with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“I do—I do!” you swallowed against the dryness of your mouth as you fought for breath. “Do anything—I’ll do anything for you, Bear. It's too much—please!” 

“You cryin’ for me?” He laughed breathlessly. Sitting up with an excited vigor, Bucky licked the tear tracks on your cheek, still managing to thrust up into you while he whispered into your ear with a moan. “So goddamn beautiful when you cry for me.” 

Running the tip of his finger down your stomach and down to your pussy, he forewent touching your throbbing clit and instead teased it against your already stuffed hole. 

You gasped harshly at the feel of him pushing against your stretched cunt. “B-Bucky! N-No you can’t, you’re already—I’m already so full.” 

But you were hopeless to the devil on your shoulder, the same one who began inching his finger beside his cock and pushing it into you. “Shhh, you can take it, baby. Make Daddy Bear proud.” 

Taking a deep breath, you squeezed your eyes closed tightly as your slick helped to suck in both his cock and his finger. The sensation was unusual, but somehow you wanted more. Your mouth hung open on a silent scream. 

“There’s a good Bunny—knew you could do it, sweetheart.” Bucky rubbed his thumb over the skin of your throat soothingly, giving you a couple of seconds to get used to the new feeling. But as soon as he felt the flutter of your pussy, he grinned wickedly and hooked his finger over the soft spongy spot inside of you. “Now hold on tight while I ruin your cunt.” 

A loud squeak was finally forced out of you once he began fucking back up into you. You thought you felt full before, now you were holding onto the last of your sanity; lost in the pits of a torturous yet addicting feeling.  

“What’s a’matter, hm? Thought you were already too full, baby? But just look at your slutty little pussy taking more.” Bucky hummed with a nefarious gleam in his eye. “Wonder if I could get my full fist in you.” 

The juices from your cunt squelched loudly, dripping down the length of Bucky’s finger and gathering in the palm of his hand. The image of him steadily working you up to take the size of his fist, imagining the wide gape your hole would make as you clenched around his wrist was too much for your already overstimulated self to handle. 

“Wan’ it,” you garbled around the spit in your mouth. You could barely keep your eyes open as you withstood the battering your pussy was so greedily taking. “Wan’ you to fuck me with your whole hand, Bear.” 

Bucky sucked bruises on the skin of your tits as they bounced in his face, the wicked intent smothering his face deepening the more you lost your will to him. “Fuck, angel. You really are perfect.” 

With his free hand, he palmed your ass, forcing you to bounce on him even harder. “We’re gonna have so much fun together, yknow that, baby?” His voice rang like a melody in your head, one you were becoming lost to. “Yeah. Daddy’s gonna teach you all kind of new things, pretty girl.” 

The blossoming ache in your lower stomach magnified into a tight ball of pleasure, your clit painfully throbbing with the need to let go. 

“I can’t—,” you sobbed. “I need to—gotta cum, Bucky—please.”

“Are you askin’ me permission, sweetheart?” 

“Yes!” You cried to the roof of the car. “Please—please Daddy—please let me cum. I can’t hold it any l-longer.” 

“You gonna cream all over Daddy’s hand, baby?” Bcuky’s voice grew hoarser as he pistoned his hips into your waiting cunt, meeting you each time you threw yourself down. “Gonna give me your sweet little cunt juices so I can taste you again?” 

“Ugh!” You whined, high pitched. “Anything you want—anything you want!” 

You were balancing on the fence between heaven and hell; the lines of pain and pleasure blurring so much that you were sure you were going to pass out as your legs shook and your stomach cramped with refrained edging. 

But by some almighty higher force, your prayers were answered when Bucky’s fingers harshly pinched your enlarged clit and twisted, timing his motion perfecting with a scrape of his fingertip against your inner walls. “Make a mess on me then, Bunny.” 

White noise blasted over the deafening screams released from your inner core, the rattle of the bouncing car and Bucky’s deep moans as your pussy clenched unforgivingly around his cock. Your soul seemed to ascend, overtaken by some unnatural force as your limbs seized and became weightless all at once. 

It was like your body wasn’t yours anymore, like you weren’t actually present as your conscience waned in and out. One second you felt the explosive ricochets of electricity dance along your veins, and another you were sure you blacked out. 

Your clouded mind came back into focus as a pair of hands squeezed your hips, your sex clamping down tightly on the length of a cock grinding inside of you. 

“You were so fuckin’ good, Bun.” Bucky’s gruff timber woke you up fully. The sight of him licking your combined juices as he stared heatedly between your legs brought you back to the current. 

Looking down, you blinked several times to find a thick load of milky white cum leaking from your hole. 

“You—,” you swallowed the dryness of your throat as you tried to gather your thoughts. “You c-came in me.” 

Leaning his head back against the seat, Bucky laughed with a fucked out smile. “I absolutely fuckin’ did, Angel.” He thrusted up into you one last time, smirking at the yelp you let out. “And don’t you look a pretty picture.” 

Your bashfulness came back in full force as you buried your neck into Bucky’s chest, slumping onto his body with a whine, his cock still hard in your cunt. 

“Nothing to be ashamed of, baby.” He sighed, satisfied as he grabbed a smoke from his front pocket half way down his thighs. “You did real good for me, sweetheart.” 

You turned your head into his cheek. “I did?” You asked, craving his validation. 

Lighting his joint and taking a hit, Bucky blew out the smoke from his mouth, grabbed your chin and fused his lips to yours once more, taking no preamble or measures before tangling his tongue with yours. 

You whimpered as the taste of weed teased your tastebuds, squirming unashamedly, even when more of Bucky’s load rolled down your legs. 

Regretfully soon, his lips left yours and he gave you one last peck to your forehead before bringing you to rest on his chest again. 

“I’m fuckin’ keepin’ you, bunny baby.” Bucky slapped your ass and you jolted, clenching around him as you whined out loud. His tongue darted out to lick his raw-bitten lips, a hungry smirk on his face while he squeezed the bruised, sore flesh. “All mine.”

[zae-heeyyy]

Evanesce

Summary: You try to runway. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 3,673 Tags: angst, smut, mid-low honor Arthur, handjob, unprotected p in v, oral, breeding kink, tb? Don’t know her. Warnings: 18+ MDNI, toxic relationship

An: I feel like I ran a never ending marathon with this one. Drafted it a month ago, but I never really vibed with it. Challenged myself to just get it done and make sure I was proud of it. Once again, I'm trying to step out of my comfort zone. Shout out to @googoolies for the note idea! As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Tagging @hihomeghere because you asked ❤️

Evanesce: to dissipate like vapor

Worn floorboards of Shady Bell wailed under Arthur’s weight as songbirds began their morning melodies. The gunslinger scoped the eerily empty, quiet camp for traces of you, but all he found was a folded letter on his pillow.

Echoes of your last conversation flashed in his mind as he tramped across the narrow room to retrieve the note. Two nights ago, The Old Guard overlooked their kingdom from the second-floor balcony as they discussed their plans to wage war against Angelo Bronte. Bile stung the back of your throat as two-thirds of the trio outruled the other. Hosea’s final words to Dutch and Arthur, “You’ll damn us all,” filled you with dread and the overwhelming feeling of impending doom.

Arthur avoided your shadowed eyes as he reloaded his weapons and ignored your outcry against Dutch’s plan. Your desperation had turned swiftly to indignation, and an argument commenced, your voices clashing like swords. You begged him not to go, pleading with the enforcer to listen to reason for once, to listen to you. But he pushed back with the shield of obstinance he had long forged for survival. 

“I don’t take orders from you, woman, and keep your goddamn voice down.”

Thousands of tiny needles pricked at the backs of your eyes at the harsh directive, but you held firm. 

“Arthur, if you go I’ll–” 

“Don’t,” he warned dismissively, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and ambling to the door. He didn’t even bother saying goodbye as he twisted the knob. Your last words fell on ears deafened from years of gunfire. 

“If you leave, I won’t be here when you come back.”

Two days later, Arthur masked his guilt with anger as he skimmed over the last piece of you left in the room. Four words in the polite loops of your handwriting taunted him: Saint Denis. Train. Running. 

After a quick check of the cinch, he found himself begrudgingly engulfed in the city of smog and greed he’d come to hate so much. Riding through the maze of cobblestone, brick, and vermin was like laying under a guillotine, staring up at the blade and waiting for it to drop. Law on every corner, people jammed together, and now, Bronte’s men out for revenge–none of it felt right. 

Taking in a breath that didn’t reach deep enough, he started his search for you in this hornets’ nest of a city. Most of the hotels and saloons served him with nothing but a heavy dose of adrenaline and dead ends. As he approached Doyle’s Tavern, his last stop, he dug his nails into his trembling palm, savoring the sting of apathy that came with the pain.

Arthur made a beeline to Gabe Doyle, reciting his rehearsed description of you. A woman standing beside him, whose garments had seen cleaner days, tapped him on the shoulder. The outlaw didn’t even look at her, didn’t give her time to speak before he rejected her with razor-edge disdain. When Arthur finished, Gabe only shrugged his shoulders, but the woman, still standing close by, let out a derisive giggle.

“He won’t be of no help, mista’. Coulda’ told ya’ for free, but it’ll cost ya’ now.”

Ire made his ears ring, drowning out all the other sounds in the slum’s saloon. He drummed his fingers hard on the worn wooden bar, the taste of pride sour on his tongue. 

“How much?” 

Cleavage spilled over her top as she leaned towards him and twiddled brazenly with the collar of his shirt. 

“Well, for clients that play nice, seven dollars, but for you, rotten dirty bastard––times it by ten.” 

A minute later, he exited Doyle’s Tavern not a cent lighter, heavy with an indefinite ban, but finally, a real lead on you. Four new mocking words overshadowed ones from the letter: Whore house; Courtenay Street. 

A brothel—a goddamn brothel. 

Instinct lured him to the debauched inn, and your name frothed from his muzzle in more of a growl than speech. Like a rabid dog, he snapped and barked orders at the women unlucky enough to be trapped with the beast on the arena floor.

They tried futilely to stop his march down the hall, tried to keep him from getting to you, but the chaos drew you into the colosseum and into the lion’s direct line of sight. You yanked the man-turned-animal by the sleeve and sealed yourselves away before he could do any more damage. 

More tame now, sea storm orbs surveyed you in a quick but covert once over, then he spun on his heel, searching for anything else to focus on.

“Christ, been looking for you all day, woman,” he bit out through clenched teeth. 

The lone wolf prowled the new territory for a threat but was only met with a vacant cave and the empty feeling of shame. Deflecting, he found your luggage, lifting the bags with the practiced ease of carrying buckets of water to and fro. His biceps flexed with the weight of your whole life in one bag, but he nodded at you, matter of fact. 

“C’mon. M’taking you home.”

Home. You could’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. None of these places had ever been home.

“I ain’t going nowhere with you,” you fired back, grabbing for the suitcase in his hand. A brief game of tug-of-war ensued, your grip relentless, Arthur’s unwavering, until he finally let you pull one of the bags free. He dropped the other and exhaled with the sharpness of a saber but stayed silent at the conclusion of your weaponless duel. He’d fallen in love with that gnawing defiance, but now it was tearing him to pieces, bit by bit until it exposed the marrow of pure anger.

“Runnin’ off is one thing.” His nostrils flared, and the timbre of his voice deepened as he carried on, “But running off t’here–– selling yourself?” He shook his head and blew air through his teeth, “Yer crazier than I thought.”

You whirled away from him, swatting your hand like he was as insignificant as a fly.

“And you’re a bigger idiot than I thought. Ain’t selling myself, you damn fool! And I’ll do whatever the hell I please. Right now, I want to get far away from this shit city and you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, dragging out the words. “I know you just as well as you think you know me. If you wanted away–really wanted away–you wouldn’t’ve left this pretty little letter, and sure as hell wouldn’t’ve told me where to find ya’.” He retrieved the letter from his satchel, held it up just long enough for you to see, and crushed it in his fist before discarding it on the floor.

“That’s what I think of your pretty little letter.” 

You had started a slow involuntary backtrack during his monologue, the flight response pushing back against the fight. He followed, sandwiching you between himself and the door.

“Screw you.” Scorn was hot on your breath.   

Just as you thought to turn the knob, to free yourself from the prison of flesh and wood, the iron teeth of a bear trap, his fingers, clamped around your wrist, bringing your hand to eye level. 

“And you still got something of mine.”

Both pairs of eyes landed on a small round sparkling opal set in a gold band on your left ring finger.

You’d never forget finding it on your pillow along with a letter from Arthur that just said, “One day…”

He had made promises he didn’t keep. First, you just had to wait for the Ferry Job. Next, you needed to survive Colter. Then you had to get far away from the Pinkertons, and most recently, all you needed to do was help case the Lemoyne National Bank. One last job, he’d told you. It was the same thing he said before leaving for that boat in Blackwater.

Contempt flowed through your veins as you tried to wrench free. God, you hated him right now, but you hated yourself more for letting him fool you.

“Let go.” You hissed, seething. 

Your hand throbbed as he gave your wrist another squeeze.

“You first.” Then he nodded towards the stone on your finger. “My ring,” he demanded.

Your knuckles collided with the wood of the door with a hard knock as you freed your hand. You flattened your palm against the wood behind your back, guarding the ring from the career thief’s piercing gaze.

“No,” you shot back, sinking into yourself. “It’s mine.” 

Your finger throbbed around the ring you’d seldom taken off. It had become part of you, melded to your skin like a vine coiled around a tree in a beautiful and deadly embrace. 

“Yours?” he huffed incredulously, shaking his head, trying to form your words into something he could understand. For a short beat, the heavy huff and puff of his breath was the only thing you could register. 

You had mined forever to find something other than cold coals of anger within him. You thought you’d found it—thought you’d finally struck gold when he confessed his feelings for you somewhere out west all that time ago. Now, you were left wondering if it was only fool’s gold you had stumbled upon. The cowardly knight was far too proud and far too afraid of getting stabbed to lay down his armor. But you were having a silent conversation with those sad eyes, reading words he’d never speak or ask aloud. What does that make me, then? 

“Yours.” He answered his inner thoughts without hesitation.

Mine. You thought back but only stared at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of cracking under his scrutiny. 

“Yours.” He repeated assuredly, final. 

It was your turn to shake your head now; you could hear his vocal cords vibrating, generating sounds you were supposed to understand, but he may as well have been speaking another language because what the hell did he know about being anybody else’s? You repeated your thoughts bluntly.

For a moment, he looked stunned, but then his hand shot out, cupping your jaw and tilting your face toward his. He was so close, you could smell him now. The scents of liquor on his breath and leather in his hat permeated your whole being.

“You don’t think–” His voice was low and trembling with fury. “I been yours since the goddamn day I laid eyes on you, and you know it.”

Fight, flight, freeze, and now fawn all warred for dominance. Twin mirrors of blue cosmos peered into your soul, but you didn’t look back, knowing that black holes of destruction ruled in the center and could swallow you in the blink of an eye.

“You have to go, Arthur.”

You tried to reach for the knob again, but Arthur imposed on you further, his chest brushing against yours. 

“No,” he said. “I ain’t going nowhere without you, and you ain’t going nowhere without me. M’done talking about it.”

It’s like he couldn’t listen, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t respect what you wanted. He only ever responded to shouting and violence. So you dipped down to his level, anything to get him to understand. Your open hand pushed full force against his chest, knocking the wind from him and making him stumble backward.

“You don’t own me, Arthur Morgan!”  

But the shouting was no use. He closed in on you again, and you reached out, clenching your fists in his shirt to stop his advance. If he noticed, he didn’t let on, talking with a tight jaw.

“No, dammit, cause you own me.” 

You balled your fists around cotton fabric and pulled him down into you, inhaling like you were bracing for the worst. This game, Predator and Prey, had become second nature to you. You would always be his fawn, thrashing and wailing, yet never escaping the salivating jaws of the coyote. And it always ended the same: a clash of heavy breathing and snarls before you surrendered.

Tobacco and whiskey never tasted so good, and they were just as addictive as him. Your teeth clashed together, and his left hand fell to your hip while his right twisted the lock on the knob. 

He was never gentle, but now, he was almost crazed. Rough hands that were trembling only an hour ago were all over you, gripping your jaw, sliding under your blouse, pushing and pulling you to his whim.

“Falling in love with you was the dumbest thing I ever did,” you confessed as he removed his hat and set it aside; he had better access to you without it. Heat surged through you as his hands bit into your hips, pinning you in place against the locked door. 

You mumble under your breath, “Bastard.”  

So far, he was ignoring your attempts to rouse him; you were his pretty little doe, caught in his chops, and a few barbs wouldn’t keep him from utterly devouring you. Dipping his head into your neck, he fixated on that pulsing artery, taking no time to roll the flesh between his teeth.

“Goddamn asshole,” you huffed but cradled his head as he claimed you.

He brushed over the ruptured blood vessels with his knuckles, and the bastard was smiling, eyes glazed over with lust and self-indulgence. Electricity sparked down your legs as he looped his fingers in the waistband of your skirt. 

You swore to yourself two nights ago that it was all over, that you wouldn’t let him slither back, yet here you were, Eve, being tempted by the serpent. Teeth sank into the forbidden fruit with the lift of your hips off the door, giving him permission to snatch both your skirt and bloomers down in a swift pull. Arthur didn’t need much persuasion to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; a man like him could have never lived for eternity in The Garden of Eden. 

The pair of you wore pride like heraldry, but neither of you was as honorable as you’d led the other to believe. You, provoking him with the threat of leaving, knowing you’d let this happen as you always did, and him never changing and never stopping the cycle of broken promises. 

Your scent was intoxicating, but he held off from relishing it, studying your face like he’d done many times before. Something was different this time, though. Only for a heartbeat, you saw something in his eye, a minuscule hint of vulnerability. You blinked, and it was gone like it was never there, replaced by an unabashed smirk. You kept the insults flying. 

“Jerk.”

Hearing the laugh rumble in his chest made your skin prick up the same way it did when a thunderstorm was brewing on the horizon. The cowboy braced his hands against your thighs and peeked up at you, his lips still curved in the corners.

He lifted his eyebrow in question, “You done?”

“Shut up,” you responded, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him, not so gracefully, to the heat between your legs. 

Obeying, he flicked his tongue out to lap at you, drawing you closer in a hug, his palms resting on the curve of your ass cheeks. Steadying yourself against the door, you tugged on his hair like reins, but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. You grunted and cursed under your breath as that gluttonous, greedy grifter feasted on you. 

Blasphemous sounds rose up from your chest as you rocked your hips feverishly with every swipe of his warm wet tongue against your clit. Every tug of his locs and bump of your mound into his nose sent blood pulsing full speed to the bulge in his pants. He knew you were dancing dangerously close to the cliff’s overhang by the way you were keeping him in place, right where you wanted him. But the brute stopped and locked eyes with you, lips curved downward. That slight glimpse of vulnerability you thought you’d seen earlier was now on full display.

“Say you won’t go,” he choked out. 

Down on his knees, looking up at you with genuine sincerity was the closest he’d ever get to prayer or penance. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat but didn’t answer him.

Instead, you ushered him back to his feet and crashed your lips into his again, tangling your tongue with his.

In a swift motion, you popped his suspenders loose while you walked him backward. The backs of his knees hit the bed, and he shimmied off his multiple layers just as quick as you unfastened the buttons on your blouse. You stood before him, a goddess, determining his eternal fate. And he waited, fixated on you, languidly stroking his engorged cock while you decided.

You replaced his fisted grip with yours, bending to meet his eye. The almost frown on his face made you wonder what he was seeing staring back at him. You imagined your pupils blown out, your lips swollen, and your hair disheveled. Arthur was the only man in the world who could turn you into a vixen. 

“You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.” Your noses were almost touching as you tightened your grip and stroked him painfully slowly. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, his face downright solemn. 

“Mhm,” you went on, rubbing circles atop his hot, leaking pink tip. Your pace quickened as your cheek grazed his. A shiver ran through him as the vibrations of your voice tickled his ear.

“No good, thieving, murderous bastard.” 

“I know.” He drew out, tightly clutching the sheets. With a firm nudge, you urged him onto his back. 

“You don’t deserve me. Never did,” you continued. His hips jutted in time with your wrist, his climax sitting low in his balls.  

“I–dammit–I–kn–know.”

The muscles of his stomach constricted as he fought for breath, damn near suffocating under your touch. 

“I’ll change.” He gasped, eyes closed, and brow furrowed. “I’ll change. But–ahh–I ain’t ever gonna be good enough for you, woman–nghh–no matter how much changin’ I do.”

Air finally flowed back through with the halt of your pumping. The mattress sunk with your added weight as you slung your legs on either side of him. Neither party stalled. You gave him a quick nod before he could even ask, and he sank his length into your warm, wet pussy. There were no hushing kisses, no waiting for you to adjust, no cajoling, just the smacking of skin and the aroma of sex in the room as he molded you to his girth. Bashfulness had never even crossed your mind. You rode him tirelessly, whimpering, gasping, and filling the air with his name. 

The roles reversed; you were the animal now, a lioness pursuing a buck. Chasing the high, you galloped hard and fast and grinding your hips against his to relieve the throbbing ache in your clit. You massaged the sensitive nub between your thighs, indulging in the pleasure you were giving yourself and receiving from him. The tip of his cock bumped that sweet spot inside of you, the one that made you tense and cry out over and over again. 

You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to know what he was doing to you or how he was making you feel–how he always made you feel when he was burrowed deep inside of you. You couldn’t hide from him, though. He knew you–knew the faces and sounds you made, knew the way you tightened around him, knew how you stiffened, knew how your breathing shallowed when you were on the edge. He knew the control he’d have over you forever.

“You ain’t going nowhere.” He grunted as he pounded up into you, the knot in his stomach tightening with his own upcoming release. 

“Fucker,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, and you love it.” 

You couldn’t deny it.

He took your hand in his and felt for the ring on your finger, stroking it, all while keeping eye contact and hammering relentlessly into your velvety walls. Four more thrusts and your eyes rolled back as the lightbulb of tension burst.

“That’s right, let it go, there it is.” Muttering, his upward ruts got sloppier as you rode out your body-spasming orgasm. Then he started babbling, lost in your sweet heat,

“Shit, I’m–bout t–m’close.”

The cowboy tried to lift you up, tried not to spill inside of you, but you buried your head in the crook of his neck and lowered yourself back down, taking him balls deep.

“Goddamnit,” he growled, hugging you to his chest, “the hell you doing, t’me, woman?” He panted and stared up at the ceiling like a man condemned. 

“Ain’t going nowhere,” you echoed breathlessly, still bouncing, before adding, “Yours.” 

In a few more strokes, he filled you up, grunting through his teeth and cursing up a storm that’d make even the most seasoned sailors look on timidly.

Outside noises of the establishment and the streets of Saint Denis droned back in as both of you came back to your senses. An ocean of things was left unsaid as you redressed and let Arthur lead you out of the room and to a proper hotel for the night. The next morning, you took Arthur up on his offer to get away for a few days. As the train you had boarded for your trip chugged on, something in the distance piqued your interest, a small homestead. You could vaguely make out a woman sitting on the porch and a man, presumably her husband, tending to a horse nearby. Of course, you didn’t know their life or their struggles, but if you could write your own happily ever after, it would be that. Arthur nudged you with his elbow, interrupting your daydream.  

“M’sorry...about everything,” he said, low, barely audible. The perpetual ache in your chest had almost gone numb after so long. Almost. 

“I know.” You replied and turned back to the window. The house was out of sight now, and you had a feeling your fairy tale ending had vanished with it.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ What's Me Without You? | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: She’s his forbidden fruit—the one thing Max can never have but can’t stay away from. She’s his calm in the chaos, his greatest temptation, and the silent ache he’ll carry for the rest of his life.

A/N: This story was requested by @pinkinternetstarlight

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Max Verstappen wasn’t sure when the ache in his chest had become a constant companion, a dull, hollow reminder of all he wanted but could never have. Maybe it had always been there, buried beneath the layers of fame, pressure, and expectation. Or maybe it had grown over time, with every laugh that escaped Y/n’s lips, with every soft touch of her hand on his arm, with every time she smiled at him like he was her whole world.

He didn’t deserve her. He never had.

Yet, she was always there, unwavering in her support, her loyalty, her love—though she would never admit it. Y/n wasn’t just his best friend. She was his home, the only person who saw every crack in his armor and stayed anyway.

Max leaned back against the couch, his head resting on her lap as her fingers combed gently through his hair. Her touch was soothing, her presence grounding him in a way no one else could. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was familiar, comforting. It was the kind of quiet that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

But even now, even with her hand softly stroking his head and her scent surrounding him, guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind.

He’d had a terrible race—another mechanical failure, another DNF that left him simmering with frustration. When he’d finally returned to his hotel room, all he wanted was her. Not Kelly, who was waiting for him back in Monaco with Penelope, but Y/n. It wasn’t right, and he knew it, but Y/n was the only one who could put him back together when he felt like he was falling apart.

“I came as soon as I could,” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with worry.

She always did.

It didn’t matter where in the world he was. It didn’t matter what she had going on. If he needed her, she came. She’d dropped everything to be here tonight, flying across time zones and leaving behind her own life to hold him in her arms.

Max closed his eyes, breathing her in. He could feel the tension in her body as she sat rigid beneath him, her free hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She was worried about him—she always worried about him.

“You didn’t have to come,” he murmured, though they both knew it was a lie. He didn’t know how to survive these nights without her anymore.

“Don’t be stupid,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. “Of course I had to come. You’re—” She paused, swallowing hard. “You’re my best friend.”

Max’s eyes fluttered open as her hand stilled in his hair. He shifted slightly, pressing his face into her neck, seeking the comfort he couldn’t find anywhere else.

Her skin was warm against his cheek, her pulse steady and reassuring. He felt safe here, in her arms, in her presence. But the safety came with a tinge of guilt, a bitter reminder that this wasn’t where he should be.

But Kelly didn’t understand.

Max could see it in the way her lips pressed together whenever Y/n’s name came up, the way her smile tightened whenever Y/n walked into the room. She never said anything outright, but the tension was there, simmering beneath the surface.

It didn’t matter.

Max knew where his loyalty lay. Y/n had been there long before Kelly, long before anyone. She was the reason he kept going some days, the only person who truly understood the toll this life took on him. Kelly might not like it, but even she couldn’t deny it—Max needed Y/n in a way he would never need anyone else.

He tried to make it work with Kelly, for Penelope’s sake if nothing else. He liked Kelly—she was kind and understanding in her own way, and he adored Penelope. But it wasn’t the same. It never could be.

Kelly had confronted him about it once, in the early days of their relationship.

“She loves you,” she had said, her voice calm but cutting.

Max had frozen, unsure how to respond. He didn’t deny it. How could he? Y/n’s love was written in every small thing she did for him, in every sacrifice she made, in every time she dropped everything to be by his side.

“And you love her,” Kelly had continued, her eyes hard but resigned.

He didn’t deny that, either.

But Kelly had never brought it up again. She knew better.

Because as much as she hated it, as much as it hurt her, she knew that if something happened Max would always choose Y/n. 

Max shifted on the couch, his voice breaking the silence. “Do you ever think about what it would be like? If things were different?”

Y/n’s hand stilled in his hair, her fingers hovering for a moment before resuming their gentle strokes.

“Different how?” she asked softly, her voice careful, cautious.

Max hesitated, his heart pounding. He didn’t know why he had said it, why he was opening this door. But the words were out now, and there was no taking them back.

“Us,” he said quietly. “If we were...different.”

Y/n was silent for a long time, and Max felt his chest tighten, the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on him.

“Don’t,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. “Don’t say things like that, Max.”

He remembered the first time she had cried in front of him. They had been teenagers, sitting in his room after a long day.

“No one likes me,” she had said, her voice thick with tears. “I’m ugly, and I’m boring, and no one wants to be with me.”

Max had been furious—not at her, but at the world for making her feel this way. He had held her as she cried, whispering reassurances into her hair.

“You’re beautiful,” he had told her, his voice firm. “And anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

She had sniffled, pulling back to look at him with watery eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he had said, his hands on her shoulders. “You’re amazing, Y/n. And if some guy doesn’t see that, then he’s not worth your time.”

He meant it. He always had.

But Max couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, it was his fault she was crying in the first place.

He knew he had chased away every boy who had shown an interest in her. He hadn’t meant to, not at first. But the thought of her with someone else, of her giving her heart to someone who wasn’t him, was unbearable.

So he had intervened, subtly at first, then more overtly as time went on. He didn’t regret it, even when she cried on his shoulder, wondering why no one stayed.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, couldn’t admit that he was the reason.

Because Max Verstappen was a selfish man. And he couldn’t let a bit of guilt stop him from protecting her.

Max’s fists clenched as he watched Y/n laugh with the guy at the bar. Her smile was radiant, and for a moment, Max forgot how to breathe.

Then the guy leaned closer, and Max saw red.

“You okay?” Y/n asked when Max stalked over, her brows knitting in concern.

“Fine,” he said tightly, his gaze flicking to the guy. “Who’s this?”

The guy opened his mouth to respond, but Max cut him off. “You should go.”

“Max!” Y/n hissed, her eyes widening.

The guy frowned but quickly walked away, muttering something under his breath.

“What the hell was that?” Y/n demanded, crossing her arms.

“He was bothering you,” Max said, his jaw clenching.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” she snapped. “He was nice. And now he thinks I’m some helpless girl with an overprotective brother.”

Max flinched at the word brother. “I was just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you to scare off every guy I talk to!” she said, her voice rising.

Max looked away, guilt twisting in his stomach. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Y/n sighed, her expression softening. “Just...let me handle it next time, okay?”

“Okay,” he said quietly, though he knew there wouldn’t be a next time.

Because no one would ever be good enough for her.

Max remembered the night he realized he was in love with her.

They had been eighteen, sitting on the hood of his car under a blanket of stars. It was one of the rare nights he wasn’t on the road, and she had insisted on taking him out to the middle of nowhere to remind him what quiet felt like.

“Do you ever think about the future?” she had asked, her voice soft and wistful.

“Sometimes,” he had admitted, though the future was always a blur to him—races, championships, the never-ending grind.

“I think about it all the time,” she had said, her eyes shining as she looked at the sky. “Where we’ll be, what we’ll be doing...if we’ll still be here together.”

“Of course we will,” he had said without hesitation.

She had smiled then, the kind of smile that made his heart ache, and he realized in that moment that he wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life.

But he had been too afraid to say anything, too afraid to ruin what they had. And as the years passed, that fear only grew.

Max didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t stop him from wanting her.

He wanted her laugh, her touch, her presence in every corner of his life. He wanted to wake up to her sleepy smile and fall asleep with her head on his chest. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he loved her, how he would give anything to be the man she deserved.

But he couldn’t.

Because she deserved better.

And so he kept his feelings locked away, hidden beneath layers of unspoken words and longing glances.

There were moments when he thought about what it would be like to be with her, really be with her.

He thought about holding her hand in public, about introducing her as his girlfriend instead of his best friend. He thought about what it would be like to kiss her, to wake up beside her, to call her his.

But then the doubts crept in, the fear that he would ruin her, that his demons would drag her down with him.

She was too good for him, too pure, too kind. Those thoughts were dangerous, and Max knew better than to indulge them.

Max shifted on the couch, pulling back to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

She frowned, tilting her head. “For what?”

“For everything,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “For always being here. For putting up with me. For...everything.”

She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “You don’t have to thank me, Max. You know I’d do anything for you.”

And that was the problem.

She would do anything for him, and he would let her, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it.

Max didn’t sleep that night.

He never could when the weight of his emotions threatened to suffocate him, and tonight, it felt heavier than ever. He stayed where he was, his shoulder stiff but unwilling to move and disturb her peaceful slumber. Y/n deserved her rest—she had flown halfway across the world just for him. She always did.

The next morning, Y/n was awake before him, bustling quietly around the small hotel room. Max cracked his eyes open, watching her from where he lay. She had always been a morning person, though he didn’t know how she managed it after such long flights and sleepless nights.

“Good morning,” she said softly, noticing his gaze.

Her voice was warm, soothing, and it wrapped around him like a blanket.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice thick with sleep.

Y/n walked over, holding out a cup of coffee. Max took it gratefully, his fingers brushing against hers. The touch was brief but enough to send a spark up his arm, one he tried desperately to ignore.

“Feeling better?” she asked, sitting down beside him.

He nodded, though it was a lie. He felt worse, if anything, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t.

“You didn’t have to stay,” he said quietly, staring into his coffee.

“I wanted to,” she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Max turned to look at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her soft smile. She always looked at him like that, like he was the most important person in her world. And maybe he was.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Max had meetings and obligations, and Y/n trailed behind him, her presence quiet but comforting.

It wasn’t until they returned to his hotel room that evening that the tension in his chest began to ease.

Y/n curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Max sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, and it was enough to make his heart ache.

“I should head back tomorrow,” she said after a while, her voice hesitant.

Max’s stomach twisted at the thought. He didn’t want her to leave—not yet, not ever—but he knew he couldn’t ask her to stay.

“Do you have to?” he asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Y/n turned to look at him, her eyes soft. “I’ve been gone from work too long already, Max. I can’t keep disappearing every time you need me.”

The words weren’t meant to hurt, but they did.

“I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’ll miss you.”

Her expression softened further, and she reached out, her hand resting gently on his. “I’ll miss you too.”

Max didn’t want to let her go, but the next morning, he found himself standing in the lobby, watching as she prepared to leave.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said, her voice firm. “I mean it, Max.”

“I will,” he promised, though they both knew he hated calling her. He hated being a burden, hated pulling her away from her life.

She hugged him tightly, her arms wrapped around his neck. Max held her just as tightly, his hands resting on her back.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” she whispered.

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure he knew how to without her.

Back in Monaco, Kelly was waiting for him. She greeted him with a kiss, and Penelope ran into his arms, her laughter filling the room.

It should have been enough.

And in a way, it was. Max loved Penelope, and he cared for Kelly. But it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.

That night, as he lay in bed beside Kelly, his mind wandered to Y/n. He wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking about him the way he was thinking about her.

Kelly shifted beside him, her arm draping over his chest. Max stiffened, guilt washing over him.

He wasn’t a cheater, but sometimes, it felt like he was. Max loved Kelly in his own way, but it wasn’t the kind of love that consumed him. It wasn’t the kind of love that made his chest ache and his heart race.

That kind of love was reserved for Y/n, and he knew it always would be.

As long as she was happy, he would endure the ache.

Because she deserved better than him.

And Max Verstappen would rather break his own heart a thousand times than let anyone break hers.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part eight, extra max verstappen x reader (fluff) series summary . . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous )

The soft clatter of pans greeted you as you unlocked the door to your apartment, the comforting hum of home wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was late—your work had dragged on longer than expected—but you didn’t mind. Not when you knew Max was here, waiting for you.

What you didn’t expect, however, was the faint smell of burnt sugar and the sight of your usually composed boyfriend standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking utterly defeated. Flour dusted his shirt, a smear of chocolate streaked across his cheek, and the counter was a war zone of eggshells, spilled milk, and bowls in various states of disaster.

“Max?” you called, leaning on the doorframe, amused. He spun around, guilt written all over his face like a child caught stealing cookies.

“Yn!” he blurted, dropping the whisk he’d been holding like a weapon. “You’re home early!”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you surveyed the mess. “This is early?” you teased, stepping further into the room. “What on earth are you doing?”

Max flushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh … I was trying to make that dessert you like. You know, the one with the—”

“—the custard and caramel,” you finished for him, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “And you decided to recreate The Great Food War while you were at it?”

He shrugged, looking entirely too proud of himself for someone surrounded by evidence of culinary failure. “It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

With a sigh and a soft laugh, you rolled up your sleeves. “Move over, Verstappen. Let me show you how it’s done.”

But Max didn’t move far. Instead, he hovered behind you, his arms sliding around your waist as you reached for a clean bowl. “Max,” you warned, trying not to laugh, “you’re in my way.”

“I’m helping,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“You’re clinging,” you countered, though your heart melted a little at how utterly unbothered he was by the accusation.

After finishing the dessert and cleaning up the kitchen chaos, you heard Max's voice from the living room, streaming with Team Redline. You brought him dinner—a plate of warm pasta—and set it on the coffee table near him. “Dinner,” you announced softly, not wanting to disrupt his game too much.

Max turned to you briefly, shaking his head with an affectionate smile. “I’ll leave in a sec and eat with you, okay?” he promised, his tone warm.

True to his word, he wrapped up quickly and joined you on the couch. As you both ate, the TV played a random movie in the background. At one point, Max leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’ve got something here,” he said, brushing his thumb over the corner of your mouth. Instead of pulling back, he leaned closer, his lips brushing where the sauce had been, then playfully bit your cheek.

“Max!” you yelped, jolting and swatting at him.

He just chuckled, pulling you closer as you tried to look annoyed. “You’re just so edible and small, I could put you in my mouth,” he teased, his grin wide and boyish.

“Max, eat your dinner, not your girlfriend,” you groaned, trying to maintain your faux-annoyance, though the way your lips twitched betrayed you.

"Well good thing you're my fiance," he grinned biting your neck again, pulling a laugh from you as you tried to free yourself.

By the time you were ready for bed, Max had already made himself comfortable under the covers. He was lounging on his side, playing with one of his cats, who was batting lazily at his fingers. When you stepped out of the bathroom, face freshly washed and hair tied back, Max immediately set the cat on the floor and made grabby hands at you.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself as you climbed into bed. He wasted no time pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried his face in your neck.

For a moment, the two of you lay there in contented silence, the day’s chaos melting away in the quiet warmth of your shared space.

“You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, your voice teasing.

Max tilted his head to look at you, raising a brow. “What now?”

“You don’t act like the four-time world champion you are, you know that?” you said with a small smirk.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “That’s because I’m not a four-time world champion right now,” he replied, his tone low and intimate. “I’m just your boyfriend.” He touched his nose to yours, giving you that cute smile you'd always adored.

His words made your heartache in the best way, a soft smile spreading across your face as you nestled closer to him. “Good answer, Verstappen,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as sleep began to pull you under.

Max tightened his arms around you, a quiet hum of contentment escaping him as he pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, Yn.”

“Goodnight, my million.”

[wwaheoh]

Henlo. 👋 I love the Unrequited Love series you wrote for Lycaon, Anby, and Zhu! If you're accepting requests and have free time, could you write a part three where the reader is confronted by someone about it (though it's not necessarily the one the reader's avoiding)? Thank you again for the wonderful pieces you've wrote for the ZZZ fandom! 💜

“Heart Meet Mind”, Zenless Zone Zero x gnReader

Ellen Joe (Von Lycaon), Qingyi (Zhu Yuan)

a/n: originally supposed to be a oneshot angst, now getting a happy(?) ending- still deciding whether to go for a bittersweet or happy ending. consider part 2 and part 4 endings depending on which one you’d prefer 

Part 1.

Part 2.

You went out for another walk, thoughts of Lycaon were still buzzing around often, but time slowly began to erode at the amount of space it took. They say time heals all wounds after all. It seemed it was doing so at last, maybe you’ll move on finally, after stewing in your heartbreak at home.

It was a bit pathetic, being so hung up on another person. Lycaon, such a gentleman, such a nice guy, a guy who could bounce back from a relationship ending so quickly. Such a kiss-ass, maybe you two weren’t as close as you foolishly thought- seeing through rose-tinted glasses rather than how he actually was. How happy you saw him when he was with that other person at the Noodle Shop… How warm he looked against the lamp lighting, his clothes fitted and fur groomed. Did he look like that when the two of you hung out? Or was he eager to leave- using those emergencies at work to ditch you…

You stopped walking, now in a nearby park. The feeling of a constricted throat and stinging eyes that’s become more and more familiar since that day rising once more. 

Sitting yourself down onto an empty park bench, you looked blankly out to the lake of water the park surrounded, ducks swimming lazily, leaving small ripples in the water. The sounds of their honks and nearby cicadas filling the silence of the afternoon. It’s helped a lot whenever you needed to get out and get fresh air.

“Yo.” A feminine, monotone voice spoke behind you- a yelp escaping you as you nearly fell out of your seat, not having heard the newcomer. Looking back and to the approaching girl, you noticed that she was familiar- Ellen Joe, one of the featured members of Victoria Housekeeping. Crap.

“Realized huh? I’d imagine, considering how often you hung around Lycaon.” You flinched at the name, a look of guilt passing through Ellen’s face. “Look, if it helps, I’ve never seen the man so hung up on anything in his life.” 

“No… it doesn’t.” You replied nervously, inwardly cringing at how you were terrified to speak to a high school girl about your failed confession to her boss.

“Good.” She took a lollipop from her pocket, ripping the plastic off, and popping the treat into her mouth- stick sticking out of her mouth like a cigar. “Would’a been a red flag.” Speech a little different due to the treat in her mouth, yet still carried its meaning clearly.

Taking the lollipop out of her mouth, she pointed it towards you, red sphere of hard sugar facing you. “You go to the cafe- the one you met the boss at. He’ll be there. Tell him again.”

“But he’ll just say no again.” You mumbled, eyes downcast at the reminder of her confession.

“I wouldn’t bet on it."

“Huh?” You looked up quickly, nervousness painting your face.

“I said I wouldn’t bet on it. The fact that I know how much this’s been messing with him shows that he realized he made a mistake.”

“Now, go there tomorrow, he’ll be there.” Popping the treat back in, the shark-girl stood up and walked off, dropping the plastic wrapping into a nearby trash can on her way out.

Tomorrow, he’ll be there. Tomorrow, you’ll see him again. 

((i actually dunno much about her so take this with a grain of salt))

Shifting the car into the parking lot, you were excited to finally get out of duty. Not that you hated being a police officer- it was a dream of yours ever since you were a kid and basically a shoe-in due to your high Ether Aptitude, but because of your partner. Not your reassigned partner- they were great, the two of you had become fast friends and while the sting of heartache still lingered, it was beginning to fade. This morning however, they had called off sick, forcing a newcomer into your car and who had been shadowing you today.

Qingyi. Now you weren’t going to say you disliked her, especially for such a petty reason of being too late to ask your crush out. Though you also weren’t going to say you liked her. It was a surprise to see her tap on your window, even bigger to know that she would be joining you today. It was a tense couple of minutes- like what do you say to the one who stole your crush’s heart? It did slowly fade by the end, making conversation and helping out around the neighborhood- but it still never left.

She probably felt it, you thought, guilty for putting your coworker through the stifling awkwardness for a reason she didn’t know of.

She did feel it and she did very much have an idea of what was going on.

So just as you pulled into the police department’s private parking lot and settled into an open space, she locked the doors and turned to you.

“Are you infatuated with Zhu Yuan?”

“Huh!?” You had nearly been about to ask her why she locked the door when she hit you with that. “Why?”

“Because. Now answer.”

“N-no…” As much as you wanted to say yes, to tell the shorter person that you had plans to confess- it wasn’t your choice anymore, it never was. Since you were-

“- not too late.” Her voice cut through your inner monologue.

“Huh.” She stared at you with an exasperated look, “I mean, just cause she’s my partner doesn’t mean you’re too late.”

“What? That exactly means I was too late!” You blurt out before slapping your hand over your mouth. Mortified at what you just exposed.

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. If you talked to her, it’d help. She’s been pretty down since you stopped hanging out with her.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…”

“Tomorrow, tell her. Her shift ends at the same time as yours.”

She clicked the locks back off, opening the door and sliding out, shutting it behind her as she left. You stared at where she sat, mulling over what she said. 

Tomorrow. That’s the time. 

[amongemeraldclouds]

chasing highs

No plot, just smut. You're welcome.

Mattheo x Lorenzo x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ MDNI, drug use, threes*me, v!fingering, oral (m!receiving), piv, unprotected sex, slight bondage, blindfolding, cursing, daddy kink, praise kink, no use of y/n. Characters are aged up.

Credit: Enzo and Matt artwork by the talented @finalgirllx ♡ The tie was doing something to me so it made it in the story.

✿ Masterlist | 2.6k words

The breeze carries the trail of smoke, curtains swaying in its wake as glowing embers crumble onto the soot stained carpet of Mattheo’s dorm. Curly hair falls carelessly from his forehead as he leans back to blow one final puff, indulging in the wave of relaxation that settles in his bones. Outside, the stars glitter stubbornly. 

“My turn,” you reach out to Mattheo, trying to snatch the joint from between his fingers. Instead he holds it above him, out of reach. “Come get it,” he taunts.

You scrunch your face, annoyed by another one of his little games. Fueled by spite and sheer determination, you move closer and climb on his seated figure on the floor, rising to claim your prize.

Instead, your spite and sheer determination sends you toppling over Mattheo and his body cushions your fall. Heat rises to your cheeks when you look up to find his face just inches from yours. You drink in his long lashes and the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Beneath you, you savor the solid warmth of his body flush against yours and your breath catches when you feel his blood rush below. His chest rumbles out a seductive laugh as his free hand moves to your waist, shooting electric sparks through you. “We really need to stop finding ourselves in this position,” he breathes.

“It was just one time,” you bite back, heat pooling down your core at the memory of how good he felt inside you, scratches carved across his back and moans lost in his hungry kisses.

It may have just been one time, but it was hours of rediscovering pleasure and releasing inhibitions like never before. It was with Mattheo after all, the boy who always challenged you to go beyond your comfort zone while supporting you the entire time so it never felt as scary as it should have been. It didn’t hurt that you were also high when it happened.

“Salazar,” Enzo curses, rising from his spot on the floor to grab the joint that hangs dangerously close to the carpet. “You’ll burn this whole place down without me,” he accuses, shaking his head. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a hit in an attempt to relax.

A thought occurs to him just as he exhales the smoke. “Wait, you two had fun without me?” Hurt and betrayal dance across his features as guilt sinks into your chest. Growing up, you’ve done everything from learning magic to stirring up trouble together as a trio.

“It just happened,” you brush off nonchalantly, hoping he’d let it slide. Your attempts to move off Mattheo is seized by his strong grip around your waist. You try to ignore the way his breath hitches as you squirm in protest, unintentionally grinding against him. “Mattheo, let me go,” you tap his shoulder. 

“Want to make it up to Enzo, dear?” He asks in a low voice. Enzo gulps at Mattheo’s words, anticipation rising from deep within him.

“Here, right now?” You ask incredulously, fighting the urge to rub your thighs together to soothe your aching core.

“Stop pretending,” he commands. “I bet if we touch your cunt right now, you’d be dripping all over my fingers.” Sometimes it’s difficult to be Mattheo’s best friend when he knows you all too well.

You relent, guilt mixing with desire, and bury your head in the crook of his neck in surrender. His grip on you softens, arms pulling you closer as if this is nothing but a sweet, innocent hug. “That’s my girl,” he says in your ear.

“Okay daddy,” you whisper in response. “Fuck,” he groans appreciatively as he rises, taking you with him.

“Kneel for daddy, princess,” he commands, pinning your arms behind your back as he faces you towards Enzo, whose jaw is slack in disbelief.

“Want to show Enzo just how much of a slut you are?” He challenges as he looms behind you, keeping your hands pinned.

You look into Enzo’s brown eyes and take in the curiosity and longing in his features as he watches you intently. “I’ll be a good girl for you tonight,” you promise. Mattheo hasn’t even touched your clothes yet you feel Enzo already undressing you with his eyes.

Mattheo runs his free hand along the side of your face, feeling each curve as he moves from your neck, down to your shoulder, drawing gooseflesh as he travels lower down to your waist.

The room falls quiet until all you hear are your shallow breaths. Electricity hums in the air as Mattheo unbuttons your blouse, each pop emphasized in the silence. Enzo’s eyes darken, following the movement downwards, committing your figure to memory. Fuck you’re so sexy, Enzo thinks.

Sparks bloom where Mattheo’s fingers graze your bare skin and next thing you know, your arms are free as he slips off your blouse and unclasps your bra, leaving you in just your skirt and underwear.

You shiver in the evening chill, but Mattheo is quick to bring his body against yours, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other squeezes your breast. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, his touch both tender and harsh.

“Come here, Enzo. Our girl is ready for you,” he encourages.

Enzo walks across the room tentatively and asks you, “are you sure?”

“I want you, Enzo,” you affirm, already imagining how good he would taste and feel against your body, how well he would fit inside you.

He moves with more certainty this time, taking a drag to help calm his nerves. “Me too,” you tell him, expecting him to hand over the joint. Instead, he brings his lips to yours and exhales directly into your mouth. You close your eyes as you welcome the smoke.

“Have more, princess,” Mattheo says as he grabs the joint from Enzo and takes a long drag. You open your mouth for him and he passes the smoke to you. You lean back and rest your head on Mattheo’s shoulder as a wave of calm settles into your system and your senses come alive.

Enzo closes the distance and brings his lips to yours, kissing you this time. It starts out soft and tentative, as sweet as Enzo himself. But when you bring your fingers to his hair and pull him closer, all trace of politeness is smeared off. He bites your lower lip and explores your mouth with his tongue, gliding his hands across curve of your waist, pinning you between him and Mattheo.

You palm Enzo’s erection in response, rubbing his twitching cock against his trousers, and enjoy the vibration of his moan against your lips. You’re keenly aware of the fast rise and fall of Enzo’s chest while Mattheo takes one last drag before he snuffs out the blunt and returns his full attention to you.

Pushing your hair back, Mattheo plants gentle kisses on your neck and your toes curl. The dance between him being gentle and rough leaves you breathless for you couldn’t predict what’s coming next.

“Do you trust me, princess?” He asks, bringing his lips close to your ear, gently sucking at your earlobe. Enzo sends a trail of kisses down your jaw and neck, freeing your mouth to answer.

“Y-yes, daddy,” you whimper.

“What’s our safe word?”

“Scarlet,” you confirm, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

“Good girl.” You hear a rush of fabric as Mattheo removes his tie and uses it to bind your arms behind you. He gestures Enzo to hand over his before turning back to you. “Close your eyes princess, we’ll take good care of you.”

You do as you’re told, excitement humming within you when the world goes dark as Mattheo uses Enzo’s tie to blindfold you. “You’re going to feel real good,” Mattheo reassures you, securing the tie at the back of your head. He plants a chaste kiss on your cheek. He really needs to stop that, you think, as you feel both like a princess about to get spoiled and a whore bound and kneeling, eager to please your best friends.

Having lost your vision, you feel your other senses expand to compensate for it, further fueled by the drug-induced haze. You’re electrified by Mattheo’s shallow breaths against your skin and find yourself arching your back as Enzo kisses your breast, licking and leaving playful bites. 

Mattheo’s fingers travel back down your lower body and you stop breathing when he reaches under your skirt, fingers teasing you through your panties. “Fuck, so wet for us,” he hums in approval as he moves the thin fabric aside to spread your slick all over your folds. Mattheo rubs slow lazy circles around your clit and Enzo kisses you again to capture your whimpers.

“Enzo, show her how you’re going to fill her up,” Mattheo encourages and a needy groan leaves your lips when you feel Enzo’s fingers graze your skirt, moving to your heated core. You nearly lose your balance when he rubs your slit before plunging his fingers inside you, but you find your body held upright between the two boys.

“Need to see how much of a slut you are,” Mattheo commands.

At his words, you move your hips against their hand, using their fingers to rub you exactly where you needed them. You can’t help the way your legs spread further apart for them, giving them more access to you as your juices drip onto the carpet. “So hungry,” Enzo breathes, pleasantly surprised to discover this side to you. Euphoria overrides your senses, making a moaning mess out of you.

“Daddy, I want to cum,” you ask Mattheo for permission.

“Not yet, baby,” he says, increasing his pace as Enzo curls his fingers, hitting the sensitive spot inside you. His free hand moves up to squeeze your breast, sending jolts of electricity through you.

You grunt in frustration and press your fingernails to your palm trying to stay in control, carving crescent shaped moons on your skin. “Sshh, I know princess, just a bit more,” Mattheo whispers.

It’s torture and heaven at the same time, your cunt growing more and more sensitive against their frenzied touch. “Please, fuck—” you beg as you find yourself teetering on the edge.

“Okay, princess. Show us how good we make you feel.” You cry out and come undone at Mattheo’s words, overwhelm sending you writhing against them as they continue their relentless pace, drawing out every last wave of pleasure.

You collapse against Enzo’s shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “You’re amazing,” you hear Enzo praise you as he gently strokes your hair.

“Need to know how you taste,” you beg once you feel yourself calm down. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Mattheo grabs your waist and lets you rest against him so Enzo can remove his clothes. His hand returns to your sensitive slit, fingers playing with your folds.

“Thank you, daddy,” you tell Mattheo and he covers your mouth in a hungry kiss. Beside you, you hear Enzo unbuckling his trousers, zipping it down to free his hard length.

Your centre of gravity shifts when Mattheo releases you and you feel Enzo fisting his hand through your hair, guiding you towards him. You open your mouth and close your lips around his cock, letting him thrust into you.

You try to stroke him but the restraints dig into your arms and you’re reminded again just how much you’re at their mercy. Instead, you roll your tongue against him and Enzo gasps at the euphoric jolt it sends. “You’re so pretty like this,” Enzo groans as he starts moving at a steady pace. 

You rub your thighs together in anticipation when you hear Mattheo unzip his trousers. “Be a good girl for daddy,” he commands as he unties the restraints around your arms. He gently rubs them, soothing the discomfort away before he plants gentle kisses on the marks it left around your wrists.

He lifts you from your kneeling position to all fours and Enzo supports your hands before entering your hungry mouth again. You moan against Enzo’s cock when you feel Mattheo grip your hips as he slides his tip across your cunt and enters you from behind.

You clamp down against him and he moves slowly at first, letting yourself adjust to his length. Soon enough, he’s dripping with your arousal and he starts moving faster, the delicious friction building pressure at the base of your stomach. Upon impact, you find yourself choking against Enzo’s cock and your eyes water at the repeated contact. You remind yourself to breathe.

“Fuck, such a good slut,” Mattheo praises. “You’re taking us so well,” Enzo hums in approval. Desperate, filthy noises escape your lips in response, muffled by Enzo’s cock. The vibrations it creates against Enzo sends him over the edge as he releases a guttural moan and you relish the warm feeling of his salty cum in your mouth.

“You like how I taste, love?” Enzo asks, running his thumb across your swollen lip to push his spilled seed back to your mouth and you suck on it. At the same time Mattheo commands, “be a good girl and swallow his load.” You whimper, taking every last drop down your throat, too cock drunk to use your words.

Your focus returns to Mattheo as he takes on a vicious pace, fingers gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You cry out, feeling yourself get closer and closer to your release. “That’s it,” Mattheo encourages, feeling the familiar way you clench around him just before you unravel. “Cum for daddy,” he commands, each word emphasized by a brutal thrust into your dripping pussy.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, seeing stars as you quiver against Mattheo’s cock. Wave after wave of pleasure overtakes you as he continues his persistent intoxicating thrusts.

It feels even better when he unloads in you. “Take it all baby, see how crazy you make me,” he coos into your ear in between filthy moans as he comes undone and you feel hot liquid drip down your leg. After taking a second to catch his breath, he wraps his arm around you, guiding you upright again.

You feel his hands behind your head as he unties the blindfold. While your eyes adjust back to the room and the starlit sky beyond the window, Mattheo brings his arms back around you, pulling you in for a hug. “You were so good,” he praises, burying his head in your shoulder. You reach back and massage his curls, enjoying how well you fit against each other.

You hum in pleasure as the events sink in. “You two spoil me too much.”

You smile at Enzo when he approaches you and kisses your lips playfully. He shakes his head in disbelief, “we’ve wasted so much time when we could have been doing this much longer.” Mattheo chuckles in agreement, his warm breath on your neck sending butterflies to your stomach.

He plants one final kiss on your cheek before getting up to dress himself. “And now I’m hungry, I’m going to grab some food,” he says nonchalantly, back to his usual self.

“Get some for us too,” Enzo adds.

He looks back with his signature smirk, “we’ll see.” You scoff at his response, knowing full well he will return with more food than any of you could eat.

As soon as Mattheo closes the door, you smirk at Enzo. “You know, that thing you said about lost time?” You ask, licking your lips.

“Yeah?” He replies with a wicked grin.

“We can always make up for it,” you grab Enzo’s arm, leading him towards the bed. “Come on, I still need to know how you feel inside me.”

✿ Masterlist

A/N: Why does my warning list get more and more unhinged the more smut I write?

My fics are usually around 1k words because I start losing my attention span after that. This is actually the longest I’ve done so far at 2.6k words, but I feel like I could’ve kept it going haha. Perhaps I’ll write another threes*me in the future. Stay tuned and stay feral, friends!

[heartmix]

Never Be - Jack Hughes

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K+ (with lyrics)

Warning: theres angst, pre-devils Jack

A/N: inspired by never be by 5sos. this is not how i wanted to end the fic but it just went in that direction

Masterlist \ Hockey Masterlist

We'll never be as young as we are now It's time to leave this old black and white town

"Let's leave."

"What?" Lifting your head to look at him beside you on the couch to ensure you heard him right. Both of you were in the Hughes family basement enjoying a film you knew he wasn't really paying attention to. Everyone else was asleep upstairs, ditching the both of you two movies ago.  

"Let's leave, go somewhere. No turning back." He repeated giving you a serious expression. Jack was full of surprises and you've learned to love that about him but the look in his eyes tonight was different. There was no pinpointing what emotion he was feeling but you knew he needed this, whatever this was. 

"What's gotten into that brain of yours Hughes?"

"This is the last time we get to be young and dumb. By next week, we'll be both adults off to do our own thing. Just one last time being a teenager with you."

"Well, what do you wanna do? Where do you wanna go?"

"Follow me." He said holding out his hand. Glady taking it you let him pull you off the couch and straight to his car. 

Jack wasn't exactly sure where he was driving to; he didn't have a destination in mind. He just wanted to leave the town with you and soak in the few moments you had left together before his world changed. By this time next week, he would already be practicing at the devil's rink and you would be moving into your new college dorm. As much as he didn't want to think about it, he wouldn't get the chance to talk to you every day. From the stories Quinn has told he would be lucky to catch you when you both are free or when in the same time zone when he's away for games. The Hughes brothers, as close as they are were lucky to catch a back-to-back conversation when the season started. 

I've seen myself here in your eyes I stay awake 'til the sunrise I wanna hold you hold you all night I wanna tell you that you're all mine

The farthest place Jack could think of going was the lookout where the both of you were frequent visitors. He remembered the first time he took you here. It was just a few years ago when he was learning how to drive and accidentally took the wrong turn. Between the nervousness from driving and you teasing him every second of being so nervous, he ended up on the lookout. A happy accident that became both of your spots.

"This might be your last view of our spot for a while." He looked over seeing you take in the sight yourself. 

"Same goes for you, you had to move away for college."

"You had to move away for hockey." teasing back, Jack couldn't help the hint of a smirk pulling from his lips. 

A moment of silence passed through. The only sound was from nature surrounding you both. There was no telling what time it was, time seemed to not exist but at the same time moving faster than he would like. If he could take this moment with you in his arms watching the slowness of the town, he would hang it on every wall so it would make it feel like it never ended. 

"What's going on with you Jacky?"

"I'm just taking this in before leaving." He didn't want to meet her eyes, he was holding on by a thread, and with one more push, he was going to spill his guts. 

"I thought we came to terms with this changing?"

"We did. I came to terms with leaving for New Jersey, not leaving you." There it was. The thing he was trying to hold back and not tell you. He didn't want to guilt trip you and make you feel bad. This occurrence was part of growing up, they weren't the first people to experience this change. 

"Jack.." 

"You are the only constant I had in my life these few years, I don't remember a time we've been apart for a long period of time."

"We'll see each other at Christmas right? that's just a few months away." He knew what you were trying to do and although you giving him hope usually cheered him up, it didn't work this time. 

"Might as well be a whole lifetime."

"You're not making this any easier for me." looking at you he saw tears welling up in your eyes. That wasn't what he wanted to do and he wished he could take back what he just said. 

"I thought you accepted it already." 

"I accepted it until tonight. I've been trying so hard to accept it and it took me nights of crying to be okay and here you are not moving on and it's breaking down my walls." at this point the tears couldn't stop and just kept following. he's never seen you like this, breaking down about the two of you being apart. You were always the strong and level head one out of the two, so seeing this right now he wished more than anything he could be in control of time. Reversing it so he never poured his heart out or freezing it so the both of you could stay like this forever. 

"Why didn't you tell me you've been crying?" The crack in his voice snapped something in you.

"Because you're going to the freakin NHL. I was with you on draft day and saw all the excitement from everyone. How selfish would I be if I told you I was sad about you moving away from me."

"Now you know how feel when I read your acceptance letter to a school on the other coast."

A beat of silence passed before either of them said anything. This was the first time both of you confessed how you were really feeling. Jack knew you were feeling upset about the change just like him, but hearing you confess how it was affecting you tugged at his heart even more. 

"Can you promise me one thing?" Her ask almost came out as a whisper, like she wasn't sure if she wanted to say it.

"Anything you want."

"When you make it big, and you get new friends, a new life in Jersey, a girlfriend, and start a family, promise that you'll never forget me. I'll be good with one call a year or a text for my birthday. I don't think I could take being out of your life for good." The confession made him mad. What was she even talking about? Did she really think that she could be replaced so easily, after being connected by the hips since grade school? 

"Baby, what are you saying? I'm never ever going to forget you. You are my person and the only constant I want in my life. If you are down the road from me or on a different coast, you'll always be mine. Don't think for one second I'll want to find someone else. I want you and I'm happy with any way I'll get that."

"Jack you're not saying what I think you're saying." He was. He didn't want to confess it this way but hearing all the nonsense she was talking about, he needed to end those thoughts right now. 

"I am. I just haven't had the courage to tell you until now."

"I need to ask you for one more thing." The tone in her voice made him scared. Of course, she wouldn't feel the same way. 

With the last bit of dignity he had left he still wondered what she wanted to say, "What is it?"

"I need you to tell me this when we aren't about to move away from each other. It can't be at Christmas or off seasons also. I need you to tell me this when we have adulthood somewhat figured out. If you still feel the same way, tell me then." Although it wasn't what he wanted to hear, he was glad she felt the same way. Of course, she wanted to be logical while in the heat of emotion. 

"I've felt like this for years, if I have to wait a bit longer I will." A smile cracked through. He wasn't kidding. He's waited years since they first entered high school, what difference does it make if he has to wait for her to finish college? 

"We'll see."

"Can we pretend for the last few hours we have tonight? I wanted to remember this."

"You got until sunrise Jacky." With a content smile, he pulled you into his side, entangling your fingers together and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. If he had to wait a few years so be it. 

We'll never be as young as we are now As young as we are now

[shi-yin-drawings]

Tumblr is my guilt-free zone to post these two 🤡

[marthawrites]

A Not So Hidden Secret

Modern Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: Rhaenyra discovers something in the bedroom that you, admittedly, forgot about, but didn't want her to know about!

Includes: This is mostly porn with some general plot to set things up. So, SMUT. Featuring established relationship, soft dom Rhae vibes, praise, sex toys (nipple clamps and vibrators) pushing reader out of her comfort zone, minor pain play, reader receiving oral sex, overstimulation, after care, fluff

Note: Hello lovely reader! Rhaenyra's age isn't specified in this fic, so you can read it with either "younger" (milly alcock) or "older" (emma d'arcy) Rhaenyra. I wrote it with older Rhae in mind, but how you read it is up to you! Reader is non-descript. As always, please enjoy!

-

“When were you going to tell me about these, sweetling?” Rhaenyra asked as she came out of your shared bedroom and sat on the couch with you. Casually, she pulled your foot into her lap so she could idly trace over the lower portion of your leg. She held something in her hand and if you could see her you’d see a sly little grin on her face. 

Her soft voice–filled with amusement–barely registered as you read your book. Turning the page, you didn’t bother to stop as you asked, “hm?”

She’d sat down on the opposite end of the couch where you laid to read, and you felt the cushions dip as she shifted over you. Straddling your hips, she pushed the book down so your attention was on her and not whatever silly who-done-it you were currently reading. “I said, when were you going to tell me about these?” She held up a small clear plastic bag and realization hit you.

Oh hell–the nipple clamps!

“Where did you find those!?” You half-squeaked, face hot with embarrassment–and maybe a teeny bit of guilt for not telling her.

Rhaenyra’s eyes danced with curious humor. “They weren't hidden. I went to wear some of your fluffy socks I like and they were right on top of your dresser.”

It's true. They weren't hidden. 

Yours and Rhaenyra’s relationship had been going strong for nearly two years now, and when she invited you to move in you practically screamed with joy. She was an absolute delight and treated you so well–and you, her! She lived in a beautiful townhouse in upscale King’s Landing that Viserys likely pulled a couple stings to make happen. But, Rhaenyra had always been his favorite child and there wasn't anything he'd skimp on for her. You’d been living together for almost six months. You didn’t hide anything from her–you had no reason to–and she didn’t hide anything from you. But these damn nipple clamps?

You looked between her eyes as tension coiled in your belly. Heat still lingered in your cheeks and you hoped she couldn’t see it. Biting your lip sheepishly, you said, “I can explain!”

She smirked. She had a dimple in her cheek and it was on full display. “Something I’m quite eager to hear about.”

You ran a hand down your face covering the giggle her words elicited from you. “Okay okay, so…,” you started, looking up at her as demurely as you could. “Remember when I bought that toy a month or so back?”

“Mm-hm,” she answered, dimple deepening.

“Well when I checked out apparently I spent enough to earn a ‘free gift’ if I wanted. So, I thought, what the heck! and clicked yes. I was hoping for maybe a tiny vibe or something, ya know? One of those cute ones that looks like lipstick or something,” you giggled again, blushing deeper. You shouldn’t feel embarrassed talking to your girlfriend about this sort of thing–you both loved toys!–but sometimes you did feel a wave of embarrassment talking about them outside of the bedroom.

Rhaenyra hummed in acknowledgment. “I see,” she said. “And when you opened your box and saw these… did you try them on?” Her voice was lower, now, a feminine husk that tickled along your senses in the most wicked ways. Amusement still glinted in her eyes, too, and made them all the more lovely. 

You shook your head, exclaiming, “no! They freaked me out a little, honestly!” You wish you would have thrown the stupid things away. Or at least hid them! Tension shuddered up and down your spine. Warmth began to slowly spread outward from your center, and you were glad you weren’t straddling her. If you were, she'd know exactly what she was doing to you. Being beneath her gaze like this shouldn't affect you in such a way, but… it did. “I haven’t even opened them!”

She laughed. Lowering, she kissed you and purred, “and here I thought I ruined a surprise you had for me.”

With her lips on yours any teasing retort you might have said flew out the window. The initial playfulness of her kiss shifted to something deeper, hungrier. Breaking away from it, you pouted, “sorry for disappointing you,” with a tiny grin of your own.

One of her hands pushed up beneath the front of your shirt, causing the material to bunch the higher she went. She felt your ribs hitch and she hummed against your mouth, delighted. Going higher still, she palmed over the swell of your sports bra covered breast and that hum turned into an appreciative moan. “I know a way to make it up to me,” she suggested, fingers splaying wide as she brushed over the fullness of your breasts.

Your breath started to come quicker and the liquid warmth between your thighs grew needier. “Oh yeah?” You asked, spine arching up into her touch. Your own hands pushed up the tops of her thighs until your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her biker shorts and snapped it teasingly against her waist.

“Yeah. You can try them on now. For me. You’ll let me clamp those pretty nipples, won’t you?” Her voice might have tilted slightly with the question, but there was no question about it.

Yes, yes, yes.

Biting your lip, you nodded as you looked up at her. “Okay, yeah. Let’s do it.”

The expression she gave you was purely feline. Rolling off you, she offered you her hand. “In our room,” she said, tilting her head in its direction.

A trail of strewn clothes littered the space between the living room and bedroom, and Rhaenyra didn’t even bother to close the curtains as she stepped right between your legs when you sat on the edge of the bed. The townhouse was two-stories high and with the position of the window, as well as the arrangement of your room, there was an extremely low chance of anyone seeing anything. She looked down at you and traced the back of her hand over your jaw before sliding her thumb over your mouth. “Those eyes are so pretty looking up at me like this,” she cooed. “My perfect girl.”

Shivers filled your body at her praise. “Nyra…,” you whined, blushing yet again, doing your best to not turn your face away from her in flustered embarrassment.

“My sweet girl still feeling shy about her little secret?” Rhaenyra asked as she opened the plastic bag, pulling the chained clamps out. It clanked softly in the quiet room. “Ooh, these can get really tight,” she said as she showed you the pinch of the clamp. “Let’s loosen those a bit, yeah?” She asked amusedly as she twisted the screw looser on each. 

The tips were covered in a brightly colored smooth rubber, and you assumed it was for the comfort of the wearer. Anticipation fizzed in your belly as you watched Rhae. She only wore her underwear, as did you, and it somehow made the setting all the more intimate.

“There,” she breathed, testing the tightness on the tip of her pinky. “Ready?

Gulping–and unintentionally squirming–you nodded. “I am.” Still sitting, you leaned back on your hands and the position allowed you to easily arch your spine as you offered your breasts to her. You watched as she clipped one on. You gasped. Once she clipped the second on you gasped sharper. 

Leaning down, Rhaenyra kissed you softly. “Good girl,” she whispered against your lips. “How do they feel?”

You looked down the front of your chest, and Rhaenyra took the moment to inspect her work, too; electricity charged the bedroom’s air. Your nipples were pinched tight and the very tips of them buzzed. “Feels weird,” you giggled, still trying to wrap your head around the strange sensation. “It doesn’t hurt-hurt but it sort of hurts.” You realized how silly it sounded as soon as you said it. “Think they’ll fall off?” You asked, shimmying your shoulders in a way that sent your tits swaying just slightly. The little chain rattled and somehow that made you feel all the more dirty about it.

“Fuck,” she hissed beneath her breath, watching. “God, you have the sexiest tits. Can’t believe you let me clamp them. You are the loveliest gem,” she said before she was on your mouth again. The kiss was immediately hot and heavy, desperate in a way that made you sink your fingers into her half-messy updo, stray little curls framing her face. With a soft moan she pushed you back, careful to not disturb the clamps or chain too much. 

Laying on your back, you wrapped your legs around Rhaenyra’s waist and kissed her with fervor. “Think I want them off now,” you admitted, really starting to feel the pain of them.

She hushed you. “Shh, no, not yet, sweetling. You’re doing very well. They hurt?” 

You nodded, looking up into her desire glazed eyes with your softened doe eyes.

“Let me show you how sweet the pain can make the pleasure,” she said, expression turning sweetly wicked. Without giving you any time to ask questions or protest, she slid down the front of your body until she laid between your thighs. In a single sweeping movement she tugged your panties off; those things didn’t stand a chance. She groaned as she saw how wet you were, how ready your body was, how responsive you’ve been to this new experiment. “Fucking hell, love,” she rasped. “You could take my strap right now without any prep. You are so fucking wet.”

A hazy fog already began to settle in your brain. Anticipation, emotions, and sensations sent your hips squirming in need. You made a little sound in response to her words, but no actual words came out of your mouth. She hadn’t even started on you yet and already she rendered you to an unintelligible mess. 

Her arms wrapped around your thighs and positioned you just how she wanted, and she instantly dragged her tongue up the fullness of your center. She lapped full lazy licks up your slit, catching and kissing your clit at the top of each stroke, before doing it all over again.

And again.

Your hands flew down to her hands squeezing into your thighs, and you squeezed atop them as she devoured your pussy. Too much. It was already too much. How was it already too much? “Oh my god..!” You breathed, gasping, a tight coil of pleasure already threatening to snap in those low muscles of your belly. “H-holy fucking shit…!”

Rhaenerya planned to murder you. Truly.

She moaned into you and didn’t stop. She gently drew your swollen clit into her mouth and slid her tongue over it, feeling your thighs begin to shudder around her. She alternated between licking and sucking–even kissing the bud when she thought you needed to catch a full breath–until your hands were in her hair.

“God! N-Nyra..! I’m gonna co-,” and before you could finish whimpering out those final words, she shattered you. Orgasm rolled over you in warm waves of bliss. Still, she never stopped, and you rode it out until it threatened to crest into a second peak and become painful. 

It was then, and only then, that she stopped and looked up at you, panting almost as much as you were. “You taste so fucking good. Stay right here, I’m not done with you yet.” She slipped off the bed and walked over to your dresser, going right for the drawer you kept all your toys. Picking out a vibrator she knew you loved–its width and shape always making quick work of you–she smiled like a succubus. Crawling back between your legs, she once again didn’t give you time to protest before turning it on. “Don’t even think about taking those clamps off.”

You opened your mouth to say something in retort but the second you did you felt–and saw–Rhaenrya begin to push that big vibrator into your clenching, soaked, needy fucking pussy. Your eyes rolled closed when she seated it fully inside you. Tension instantly returned to your core and you barely covered your mouth in time to muffle an overstimulated cry. The muscles of your abdomen flexed and tightened, hips stuttering, as bliss threatened to push you over the edge. 

God you fucking loved this thing. 

“If only you could see yourself right now,” Rhaenrya cooed as she watched you from below, able to see not only your saturated cunt as she pumped the toy in and out of you, but also see up your belly to your breasts, and your blissed out face above those. “You are so lovely. So perfect. So fucking sexy and dirty.”

“P-please! Too much. Too much,” you gasped, still shuddering and clenching on your vibrator.

She smirked like the devil himself as she leaned forward and began to lavish your clit with her tongue and lips once again. She held the vibrator inside you, keeping it in place and not letting it squeeze out from your clenching depths. Nor did she pump it in and out of you. She simply kept it there. Deep. Buzzing away inside your perfect walls on one of its highest settings. She let all those inner muscles do the work as she ate your clit.

If you thought the first (or was it two?) orgasm was too much, this one really was. A strangled cry left your throat as blinding pleasure pulsed through every single nerve-ending in your body. Molten lava consumed you. You were weightless. Formless. Your hips spasmed beneath her and you thought you might actually pass out.

Carefully, with one final kiss to your clit, she pulled the toy out from your overstimulated center. She turned it off and dropped it on the bed. She moved to lay beside you, kissing your cheek. With a much softer expression, she asked, “you okay?”

You hadn’t realized the intensity of your last orgasm caused more than physical release to flood you. Tears had gathered in your eyes and slid down your temples. It’s not that you were sad–not at all–but the sensation had been that intense. You couldn’t remember the last time this happened! The tears were short lived and as soon as you wiped them away, no more came. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered softly, voice thicker and more horse than you expected. “Holy shit. I’m more than okay,” you laughed, honestly dumbfounded at how your body could still be weightless and tingling. “I’m honestly fucking amazing right now.”

“Good,” she answered with a little giggle of her own. “I’m going to take the clamps off now, okay?”

You nodded, slowly coming back into yourself.

Once your nipples were free of the clamps, she tenderly kissed each one. “You did so, so very well. I’m beyond proud of you my sweet, perfect, lovely girl,” she said as she nuzzled soft kisses at the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your neck.

You tickled her face with kisses too, soaking in all of her sweet lovey words. “Pretty sure my soul is still coming back to my body, but, once it does I am so tackling the fuck outta you,” you proclaimed fiercely, wanting to give her even a fraction of what she had given you.

That got a laugh out of her. “Take your time, sweetling,” she winked. “I’m half starved. I’ll go order us dinner and be back in for said tackling. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed as you watched her walk out of the bedroom in only her panties, searching for her phone to call something in from one of your favorite restaurants.

By the time you were done giving thanks to your girlfriend for all the pleasure she gave you, dinner was cold on the front porch. But, even with that, it was still one of the best damn meals you'd had lately.

After dinner, you found your book on the couch again, and Rhaenyra flicked on the latest show she'd been binging–both of you sharing one really big, really soft, blanket.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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[therealcocoshady]

Fun fact : for a minute, I actually considered a different scenario. Like Reader being like "I don't mind if you cheat. We could be in an open relationship" and at first, he'd be like "hey, that's cool 😏" only to end up not feeling it at all. First of all because he doesn't want to share his girl and also because she's the only one he wants to be with. Maybe I could still write that. What do you think ?

I know you have a lot on your plate right now but whenever you have time, this would be a really good read👀 we're here for it👍🏻

Kinktober - Day 19 - Cheating (alternate)

A/N : here is the second idea I worked with for the Cheating prompt for Kinktober 🙊. I hope you enjoy it. It is way less angsty and I hope you guys forgive me for making you cry with that other one 🥺.

CW : cheating - open relationship - jealousy - fluff

You and Marshall had been seeing each other for a while now, and even though it wasn’t official in the traditional sense, there was something undeniably real between the two of you. You liked him, a lot. More than you had expected to. But you were also pragmatic, grounded in the reality that his lifestyle wasn't accommodating for anyone, let alone a new relationship. He was famous, often on the road, and had a history. A messy one when it came to women, not to mention that this track record was pretty public. You knew about his past, about the infidelity, the chaos that came with his fame. It didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would have, though. He had been upfront, honest about everything, and in return, you had been honest with him. « How about we just have an open relationship ? » you had suggested one night. Marshall had raised an eyebrow, looking at you like you were a nutcase. « You serious ? » he asked, laughing under his breath. « Yeah. I mean, you're often travelling for work. When you’re not doing shows, you’re flying to LA to record. And I’m sure you meet new people all the time. Women. Attractive women. I'm not naive, I get it. And I don't want to be one of those girls who's constantly worrying or wondering. It makes sense. As long as we're honest with each other, what's the harm ? » you shrugged.

He had taken a second to think about it. On the surface, it did like a win-win for him. Freedom to do what he wanted without the guilt or secrecy that had plagued his past. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about you—he did, more than he was willing to admit at the time—but this was a setup that could work for the both of you. He’d still have you, still get to enjoy the time in your presence and he’d have the freedom he thought he needed. « Alright » he said slowly, giving you a crooked smile. « You sure about this ?  You had nodded. « As long as we’re honest. That’s all that matters ».

-

It had been a couple of months since you had both agreed to the open relationship arrangement. He was in Los Angeles for a work trip, and everything felt normal. Or at least, it was supposed to. You had fallen into a rhythm that worked for you. He would text when he could, call when the time zones allowed, and in turn, you went about your own life. But something shifted for him while he was out in California. After a long day of meetings and studio sessions, he found himself at a party, surrounded by people, women throwing themselves at him like they always did. There was one girl in particular who caught his eye. She was exactly his type—tall, blonde, and bold, not shy about what she wanted. Normally, this would have been easy for him, a no-brainer. He was allowed to have fun with her, if he wanted. After all, you both had an understanding. He was free to do whatever he wanted when he was on the road. This was the deal. And yet, as the girl leaned in, laughing at something he said, her hand resting on his arm, Marshall felt a knot in his stomach that he couldn’t shake. His thoughts drifted to you, probably asleep in your bed, completely unaware of what was happening. You trusted him. This was the setup you had both agreed on, but all of a sudden, it didn’t feel right. He pulled back, the girl’s smile fading into confusion. « You good? » she asked, looking at him like he’d just broken some unspoken rule. « Yeah, I just… » He trailed off, shaking his head. He didn’t even know how to explain it to himself, let alone someone else. He mumbled something about needing to head out and left the party without another word. As soon as he was outside, the crisp LA air hit him, and the realization settled in: he didn’t want anyone else. He wanted you. Just you. No one else mattered, no matter how much freedom he was supposedly given. The thought of you with anyone else, of you laughing and touching someone else, made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected. Fuck. He needed to get back to Detroit. Now.

-

It was almost 3 a.m. when Marshall’s flight landed. He didn’t bother calling you, didn’t even stop to think about whether or not this was a good idea. He drove straight to your apartment, the adrenaline keeping him awake. By the time he reached your place, his mind was racing, emotions he couldn’t fully process swirling around like a storm. This wasn’t how he imagined the night going. He had tried to stick to the arrangement. Hell, he was the one who thought it would be cool—freedom, no strings, no complications. But the second he almost hooked up with someone else, it had hit him like a punch to the gut. The thought of you with anyone else, of another guy touching you, laughing with you, being with you—it twisted something deep inside him. He didn’t even realize how hard he was knocking on your door until it opened, revealing you, all sleepy and confused, your hair all messy and one of his hoodies hanging loosely off your shoulders.

« Marshall? » you mumbled, squinting up at him. « What are you—what time is it? What’s going on? ». His eyes darted around your apartment as if expecting to find someone else there, another guy maybe hiding in the shadows. « Is there someone here? » he demanded, his voice rougher than he intended. You blinked, still half-asleep, clearly thrown by the question. « What? No. What are you talking about? No one’s here. It’s just me. » Marshall took a deep breath, his fists clenching at his sides. « Good, » he muttered, stepping into the apartment and closing the door behind him. « Because if there was someone, you better tell him to beat it. Right now. ». You frowned, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to wake up fully. « Marshall, what is going on with you? ». He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the small space of your living room, his frustration bubbling over. « This arrangement we have, » he started, his voice rising, « it fucking sucks. I thought I could handle it, you know? I thought it was cool. But it’s not. It’s bullshit. It feels- it feels like cheating. ». You rubbed your eyes, still struggling to catch up with his words. « The open thing? I thought we were on the same page». « I don’t want anyone else, » he interrupted, his voice shaking with intensity. « Not when I’m on the road, not when I’m here. No one. Ever. Just you. And the thought of you being with anyone else, it drives me crazy. I can’t fucking stand it. » Your expression softened, but you remained quiet, letting him get it all out. « I swear to God, » he continued, his agitation growing, « if some other guy even thinks about touching you, I’ll fucking fight him. I’m serious. I can’t do this anymore. You’re mine, alright? You’re mine. And I’m yours. I don’t care what we agreed on before. This whole thing stops now, because I’m not sharing you with anyone. »

There was a beat of silence as he stood there, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched, waiting for you to respond. But instead of getting upset or arguing back, you just gave him a sleepy smile and took a step toward him. « Are you done yelling like a madman? » you asked softly, your voice calm and warm, even though you were clearly exhausted. Marshall blinked, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a bit. « Yeah, » he muttered, the fire in his voice starting to cool down. « I guess I am ». You nodded, taking his hand gently and tugging him toward the bedroom. « Good, » you said, your tone playful but soothing, « because it’s late, and I’m tired. Come on, let’s go to bed ». He hesitated for a second, still feeling the residual storm of emotions swirling inside him, but the warmth of your hand in his grounded him. Without another word, he let you lead him into the bedroom, the weight on his chest slowly easing as you settled under the covers. For the first time in a long while, it felt right—no deals, no compromises. Just you.

As you both lay there, the quiet of the night wrapping around you, he couldn’t help but whisper, « You’re mine, you know that, right? ». You smiled sleepily against his chest. « Yeah, Marshall. I know. You made it quite clear ». Marshall lay back against the pillows, his breathing finally slowing down, the adrenaline from his late-night outburst starting to fade. You snuggled into him, your body warm and soft against his side. Just as he was starting to relax, thinking maybe he could actually get some sleep after the rollercoaster of emotions he'd just ridden, you murmured something, your voice soft and teasing. « By the way… I love you too, you idiot ». He froze, his body tensing up again, but for a completely different reason this time. He turned his head to look down at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. « What did you just say? ». You lifted your head slightly to meet his gaze, a sleepy smile playing at the corners of your lips. « I said, ‘I love you too,’ » you repeated, a little louder this time, your tone light. « You idiot. ». He blinked, his heart skipping a beat. « I didn’t… I haven’t said- ». You let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with affection even through her sleepy haze. « You didn’t need to. You pretty much screamed it ».

Marshall stared at you for a second, feeling caught off guard, but also… relieved. It was true. He hadn’t said the words, but everything he had just unloaded on you had been wrapped up in them. He loved you, he’d known it for a while now, but it hadn’t hit him full force until tonight, until the idea of you being with anyone else had made him feel like he was losing his mind. « Yeah, well… » he muttered, a bit embarrassed now that you’d called him out on it. « I guess I kinda said it without saying it ». You rested your head back on his chest, fingers gently tracing patterns on his skin. « You did. And it’s okay. I love you, Marshall. ». He smiled and placed a kiss on the top of your head. « I love you too. »

[yongility]

NEO TV # i like me better when i'm with you ꗃ╭╯ jung jaehyun.

──────── epilogue: in another life—and this one too.

𒄬 genre: slowburn / angst / suggestive / gang au / rich kid au / e2l

𒄬 warnings none. this is the peace all of you were waiting for. this is pure fluff, no more angst. read chapter 10 before this. 𒄬 word count: 2.8k

Calgary, Canada.

Life was nothing more than the sum of the choices you made.

And while Jaehyun regretted most of the choices that had led him down the darkest paths, he was grateful for the one he had made three years ago.

Sooman was dead.

The night of the exchange had turned into a battlefield—gang members against police, bullets flying, screams tearing through the air, desperate prayers lost in the chaos.

And in the end, it had taken only one bullet to Sooman’s chest to bring his empire crumbling down.

Neo Zone had fallen with him.

Even though the streets were still dangerous, crime had dropped significantly. Without Sooman pulling the strings, and with most of Neo Zone’s key players locked away, the shadows that once ruled the city had started to fade.

And Jaehyun?

Jaehyun had died that night too.

At least, that’s what the world believed.

By the time the dust settled, when the bodies were being identified and the surviving criminals were being processed into the prison system—Jaehyun was nowhere to be found.

Rumors spread like wildfire.

Jung Jaehyun was dead.

And in many ways, that was the truth.

The night of the exchange had been both an ending and a beginning.

Starting over was harder than he ever imagined. A new city, new faces, a new life. Everything that had once defined him was gone, and for a long time, he wasn’t sure if he was meant to exist without it.

The first year was brutal.

Especially the first few months.

Jeno was a mess. He refused to speak to Jaehyun, refused to leave the house they had been placed in. He was drowning in grief and anger, haunted by the past he never had a choice in.

It wasn’t until Baekhyun intervened that things changed.

Under witness protection, the Jung family was not allowed to have any contact with their old life. But Baekhyun—who had held Jaehyun in his arms when he was seconds away from death—knew he couldn’t just leave them alone. He pulled whatever strings he could, bending rules that were never meant to be bent, just to be the one person who could keep that connection alive.

And so, Baekhyun told them the truth.

About Sooman. About Jaehyun’s father. About the accident that ruined Winwin’s life.

The truth shattered Jeno.

But it also set him free.

It took time—months of silent dinners, tense conversations, and Jaehyun carrying the weight of Jeno’s resentment without complaint—but eventually, Jeno accepted it. And on a quiet night, after far too many nights of pretending he didn’t care, Jeno broke down, sobbing as he apologized.

And just like that, their bond, fractured and fragile, began to heal.

The second year was different.

They were no longer just trying to survive. They were learning to live.

Their new home no longer felt like a prison. The stares of strangers no longer felt like judgment. The ghosts that once clung to them were beginning to fade.

They were free.

And then, there was Winwin.

Jaehyun had spent years carrying the guilt of what had happened to him. The accident. The coma. The stolen future.

But in their second year, something changed. Winwin made progress.

With the help of new doctors and a rehabilitation center, he spoke for the first time in years.

By the third month of that year, his voice, once lost, returned.

By the fifth month, he took his first steps since the accident.

And by the time the second year ended, Winwin wasn’t just recovering—he was laughing again.

And the best part?

Jaehyun was there for all of it.

The third year brought peace.

The kind of peace Jaehyun never thought he would find.

For the first time, he wasn’t drowning in his past. He wasn’t trapped in the cycle of guilt and regret that had consumed him for so long.

He was healing.

He had learned that the past wasn’t something he could erase. It was something he had to carry. But that weight didn’t have to define him.

Even his tattoos—the ink that once felt like a death sentence—became something else.

In the beginning, he hated them.

The first year, he wanted them gone. He wanted to rip them off his skin, to burn away the reminders of everything he had done, everything he had been.

But by the third year, he saw them differently.

They weren’t chains anymore.

They were proof that he had survived.

Once, they had meant there was no way out.

Now, they were a reminder that there always was—as long as you chose the right path when the moment came.

There were things in life you could walk away from.

People spent their whole lives running—escaping from their past, their mistakes, the ghosts that clung to their shadows. Jaehyun had spent years believing he could outrun his own, that time and distance would eventually blur the edges of everything he had lost.

But there were some things that never faded.

Some things that time refused to erase.

And three years later, he realized that no matter how far he had come, no matter how much he had rebuilt—one thought remained constant.

(Y/N).

Jaehyun had sworn he wouldn’t look back. That night at the warehouse had been the end of one life and the beginning of another. He had fought for this, for a clean slate, for the chance to breathe without the weight of Neo Zone pressing on his chest.

But even after all this time, there were moments—quiet, unsuspecting moments—where she would slip through the cracks of his mind. He could go days, weeks, even months convincing himself he had let go.

And then a song would play. A familiar scent would drift through the air. The city lights would flicker just right.

And suddenly, he was back there again.

Three years ago, Baekhyun had told him what happened to her.

The night of the exchange, the night he had nearly died, she had disappeared too. Gone from SM City.

And for a long time, that was enough to keep him frozen.

If she was building a new life, if she was trying to move on—he had no right to pull her back into a past she had barely escaped from.

So he let her go.

But not a single day in those three years had passed without thinking of her.

The scent of warm spices filled the house, the faint aroma of cinnamon and cardamom lingering in the air. It was late afternoon, and the sky outside was beginning to darken, the golden light of the setting sun spilling through the windows, casting soft shadows against the wooden floors.

Jaehyun sighed as he stepped inside, rolling his shoulders to shake off the cold.

“I’m home,” he called out, voice low but steady, the familiar weight of exhaustion settling over him.

From the hallway, a figure appeared, leaning slightly on a cane.

Winwin.

Jaehyun smiled despite himself. His friend was moving better these days—his steps steadier, his balance stronger.

“Your mom and Jeno went to the market to get stuff for dinner,” Winwin said, his tone easy, familiar. He made his way closer, pulling Jaehyun into a brief but firm hug, the kind that spoke of quiet resilience, of the battles they had fought and survived.

Jaehyun clapped him on the shoulder before moving toward the couch. They both sank into it with matching sighs, the air between them comfortable in a way it hadn’t been in years.

“How was therapy today?” Jaehyun asked, glancing at Winwin’s cane.

Winwin exhaled, rolling his neck slightly. “Better. I’m still stuck with this thing for a while longer, but it’s better than not being able to walk at all.” He chuckled, a quiet, genuine sound.

Jaehyun smirked, nodding. “Definitely better.”

Winwin tilted his head. “What about you? How was work?”

Jaehyun leaned back against the cushions, rubbing a hand over his face. “Couple of jobs. Nothing crazy. Though I had this one car come in today that I have no idea how it’s still running. It’s a damn wreck.”

Winwin grinned. “That’s good though, right? Means more work for you.”

Jaehyun huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

A real job. A legitimate one.

It still felt strange sometimes.

For years, Jaehyun had lived in a world where the only way to survive was to take, to fight, to bleed. But here, in this quiet city, he had found something different.

Working at the mechanic shop wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest. And after everything, that was enough.

He had spent too many years with oil and grease on his hands for all the wrong reasons— street illegal racing. Now, he had earned the right to build something with them.

“You’ve got time off coming up soon, don’t you?” Winwin asked, watching him carefully.

Jaehyun nodded, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “Yeah, in a month or so. My boss says work should slow down a bit, so I can take a break.”

Silence settled between them, the sound of the television humming in the background, filling the space between words left unsaid.

And then—

“I think it’s time you look for her.”

The words were soft, barely above a whisper, but they hit Jaehyun like a freight train.

His breath hitched. His chest tightened.

Winwin wasn’t looking at him, his gaze fixed on the television screen, but Jaehyun could see the weight behind his words, the careful way he had chosen them.

Jaehyun swallowed, forcing his voice to stay even. “Win, don’t—”

“You never stopped thinking about her,” Winwin cut in, his tone gentle but firm. “Not once.”

Jaehyun clenched his jaw, fingers curling into his palms.

Because it was true.

There were things from the past you could bury.

Mistakes. Memories. Regrets.

But love was never one of them.

Three Years Later Connecticut, USA

Jaehyun never thought he’d say that a cop had become one of his closest friends.

But somewhere between saving his life, dragging him out of the hell he was drowning in, and checking in on him like an older brother who refused to leave him alone—Baekhyun had managed to become exactly that.

So when Jaehyun asked him for a favor, something that was technically out of his jurisdiction, he had expected resistance. Expected a lecture, maybe even a flat-out no.

What he hadn’t expected was Baekhyun sighing, rubbing the bridge of his nose like Jaehyun had just asked him to commit a felony, and muttering, “You better not make me regret this.”

It took a few weeks—just enough time for Jaehyun’s vacation to start—but Baekhyun had done it. Had put everything in place, made the necessary calls, pulled whatever strings he could.

And now, standing in the middle of a quiet street in Connecticut, Jaehyun felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He had spent three years convincing himself he had lost her. Three years trying to live with the ghost of her touch, her voice, her love.

And now, he was here.

Here to see if the universe was willing to give him one last chance.

Jaehyun had imagined this moment a thousand times.

And in every version, he was prepared for it.

He had prepared himself for her indifference. He had prepared himself for her anger. He had prepared himself for the possibility that she had moved on.

But nothing—not the endless nights spent yearning for her, not the weight of three years apart, not even the prayers whispered into the dark when he swore he didn’t believe in miracles anymore—could have prepared him for this.

For her.

The campus was lively despite the early evening air settling over the city. Students strolled past, their conversations blending into the background hum of normalcy, of a life Jaehyun had never been part of.

But his world was silent.

Because at the end of the path, standing on the steps of a grand old university building, was her.

(Y/N).

He could barely recognize her.

Not because she looked different—no, she was still the same girl who had haunted his dreams, the same girl who had made him feel something even before he realized he was capable of it.

But because she was free.

She wasn’t the girl trapped in SM City, suffocating under the weight of expectations she never asked for. She wasn’t the girl desperately trying to hold together a life that was unraveling at the seams.

She was radiant— and so heartbreakingly beautiful that it made his chest ache

The evening sun cast a golden glow on her skin, her hair catching the light just right. She was speaking to someone, her laughter drifting through the air like music. And for a moment, Jaehyun couldn’t move.

Because how the hell was he supposed to walk up to her when she had done exactly what he always wanted for her?

She had moved on.

Jaehyun swallowed, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He had played out this moment in his head a thousand times. Had rehearsed what he would say, how he would explain, how he would tell her that not a single day had passed without her name pressed against his ribs like a prayer.

But now that she was standing in front of him, just a few feet away, all he could do was stand there, frozen in the agony of uncertainty.

What if she didn’t want to see him?

What if she had forgotten him?

What if she had healed, and he was nothing more than an old wound she didn’t want to reopen?

But then—

She turned.

And her eyes met his.

For a second, nothing happened.

The world stood still.

Jaehyun wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.

But then her lips parted, and he saw her eyes—those same eyes he had dreamt about for three years, the eyes that had once held every secret part of him— widened. The way her entire body reacted to the sight of him. The way her fingers trembled, the way her chest rose and fell a little too quickly.

And for one agonizing second, neither of them moved.

The world stretched impossibly wide between them.

And then, without warning—

She ran.

Straight toward him.

Jaehyun barely had time to react, breath knocked from his lungs as her arms wrapped around him, her body colliding against his with a force that felt like a lifetime of longing compressed into a single second.

And suddenly, he was eighteen again.

Holding her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

(Y/N) was crying—sobbing against his shoulder, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt like she was afraid he would disappear if she let go. And Jaehyun—Jaehyun was shaking.

Because after all these years, after all the distance, after all the pain—he had found his way back to her.

His arms tightened around her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pressed his face into her shoulder, breathing her in, grounding himself in the reality that this was real.

She was real.

She was here.

“I—” Her voice broke as she pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes searching his like she was trying to understand if he was truly standing in front of her. “I thought— I thought you—”

Jaehyun exhaled shakily, brushing his fingers against her cheek, his heart breaking at the way she leaned into his touch like she had been starving for it.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, her hands moving to cup his face, her thumbs tracing over his jaw like she couldn’t believe he was real.

“I tried to call you,” she choked out. “That night. When I found out I was leaving. I tried, but you never—”

Jaehyun’s heart clenched. “I never got them.”

Her lips quivered.

“Jaehyun…”

A pause. A second of hesitation, of uncertainty.

Then, Jaehyun let out a soft breath, his fingers brushing through her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear with the gentlest touch.

“It’s Yoonoh now,” he murmured.

Her breath hitched.

(Y/N) hadn’t heard that name in years. And the last time she had, he had begged her not to call him that—had told her that Jaehyun was all he had left.

But now… now he was choosing it.

Choosing to be himself again. Choosing her.

Tears welled in her eyes, overflowing before she could stop them. Her lips trembled, a choked laugh escaping her as she buried her face in his chest, gripping onto him as if the weight of his words had made her legs give out.

Jaehyun—Yoonoh—smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, his arms pulling her impossibly closer.

“Angel,” he whispered.

A sob broke from her throat.

He had never stopped calling her that.

Even now, after all this time, after everything, she was still his Angel.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him, her hands still cradling his face.

“You came back.”

Jaehyun swallowed, his voice raw. “I never stopped looking for you.” His lips found the top of her head, pressing a lingering, shaky kiss into her hair, his fingers trailing up and down her back. "I left. Sooman it's down. I'm not part of Neo Zone anymore. I have a new life— there's nothing helding me down anymore."

Her lips trembled. “And now?”

His thumb brushed away a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“Now?” He let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Now I’m here to say that I love you. That I have always love you..”

And when their lips met, it wasn’t just a kiss.

It was a homecoming. It was every unsaid word, every missed moment, every aching, desperate wish they had ever whispered into the dark, answered in a single breath.

It was the universe setting itself right.

It was the answer to every prayer they had ever whispered in the silence.

They had spent years running.

But in the end, they had always been meant to find their way back.

And this time, Yoonoh wasn’t going to let go.

a/n: NOT PROOFEAD! Yes! I finally give you fluff. And you know what? They both healed. So that's all that matters. So yeah, this is the end of I like me better when i'm with you. I'm thinking about add bonus scenes like time-stamps or headcanons, but i'm not sure... but for now that's the end. I'd love to know what you think about the whole series so far. Thank you for giving this story a chance. I'm sorry about the slow-burn and the push-pull and push dynamics but i really love drama. I'm so grateful to get to this point.

taglist: @peachfulnight @gojoscumslut @bluedbliss @dear-97 @girlwholovespreppyattire @hana-off-icial @cigarettesafterjae @bts-iris @dojaejung @methneo @kriizztin @mrsuhnshine @pieddpiperr @completelyjae @kanekisheart @daegalismybiasinnct @spicyryujin@dear-97

idk why some of the tags just don’t work out!but we still gonna see each other later or tomorrow for the epilogue!

Feel free to send any asks here if you want!

[cloudyskydreams]

Yooo I really like that pregnancy ask and I wanted to suggest a what if! Pure angst and drama if you're up to it.

What if the pregnancy didn't go well near the end because S/O's magic is not very high (to begin with! monsters need both parents iirc to have a health about of magic to make a monster.) A couple of days after the baby bone is born, child protective services (the Canadian version of it.) have to take them to their father stating that the mother is in a coma and is unlikely to recover.

((What a way to start the day. Getting a knock on the door only to find a stranger hold a baby that they were so sure it wasn't theirs. AND their s/o is probably going to die because their SOUL magic was sucked up dry to make the baby. Said baby bones looks a bit unhealthy too because they developed without their pappa's magic and is weakly crying.))

((You can decide of s/o recovers or not.))

hhhhhh you guys need to be movie directors or something because the pure plot and drama being thrown at me recently.

S/O recovers because I like that route better having a free reign relationship with your child only to have the possibility of that taken away when your comatosed ex wakes up.

Holy fuck these turned out longer than I expected so I'm just doing 3 if you wanted a different character feel free to request again! Also the holidays are NOT being kind to me so my updates are probably gonna be wack as I deal with the shitshow I call a family hope you guys enjoy and happy holidays!

Undertale:

Sans: Sees the baby bones and kind of zones out as shock runs through his body. Then he hears the word coma and zones back in. "what?" he has them repeat their entire spiel and his soul stops for a second when he hears what happened. He hesitantly accepts the babybones and cradles him to his chest gently.He's not ready for any of this and his world is collapsing around him as he finishes the conversation with CPS. Once they're gone he takes the babybones inside and simply stares at him for a bit as he rocks him back in forth Infront of the door he hasn't moved two steps from. The baby is whining and looking at him is like looking at an exact replica of himself as a babybones. He takes a few deep breaths and chuckles which turn into a full body laugh which turn into sobs as he cradles the baby to his chest. Why didnt he trust you? He still loved you even though he was convinced you had cheated a part of him desperately hoping he was wrong but now that he knows he was it's devastating. He looks for monster food that would be suitable for a babybones hoping to soothe his cry's and get his bones looking healthier. The entire time he's shaking as he rummages through the cabinets. Finds something akin to applesauce and spoonfeeds the little guy. Goes out and picks up a bunch of stuff (good, toys,clothes ect.)when Papyrus gets home. The first night he can't sleep and simply stays awake watching the babybones all night. He vows he's going to be the best dad ever while staring at his baby boys sleeping face a rush of paternal protectiveness rushing over him. He does a good job at taking care of the baby as he has experience since he had to basically raise Papyrus. He visits you once and the guilt destroys him so badly he can't visit you again. It had been a few months when he received a call. Surprise surprise it's you on the other end having just woken up and wanting to see your child immediately. Sans is more than happy to comply and gets to the hospital as soon as he can with the baby who's looking much healthier. Hesitates outside the doorway as he cradles your guys son to his chest. Possibilities and what ifs running through his head as anxiety starts to simmer. When he enters the room you look so relieved and happy to see him which happily surprises him till he realizes you're probably excited to see your baby. He hands the child over and suddenly your crying, the baby's crying, he's crying, all of y'all crying. He apologizes profusely before you can say anything and says he should have believed you how wrong he was and how sorry he is you had to go through everything alone and his grateful he is to see you again. He understands if you don't forgive him but don't expect to be rid of him because he's absolutely sticking around in his son's life.

Edge:Honestly when he sees the child and hears what CPS has to say he thinks he's having a nightmare. He's dreamt of similar situations where your baby actually turned out to be his nothing quiet like this but it's similar enough he's really thinking he's still asleep. Takes the child and thanks the CPS people for their time before going back inside. Trys to soothe the baby's cry's and rocks him gently in his arms. Checks the clock to make sure he has enough time to get to his next appointment in the day and yeah he's got a good bit, wait.... you can't read time in your dreams. He looks back at the clock and gently sets the baby down on the couch as he does the equivalent of pinching himself. Fuck fuck wait he's not dreaming. A flood of cold numbers rushes over him as he remembers what CPS said... He gently scoops the baby back up and shelves his oncoming mental breakdown as he stares down at his son. When Red gets home Edge recruits him as a babysitter (his thought process being he raised me he can watch a baby for an hour or so (red was absolutely stressed tf out))as he runs out to grab supplies and sort himself out. By sort himself out I mean destroying a chunk of a forest with his magic to workout all his anger and devastation. He trys his best to take care of the babybones his brother surprisingly giving good advice every now and then while he figures out how to be a dad. He's extremely gentle with the child and speaks on the most soothing fatherly tone to the little baby. He visits you in the hospitals bi weekly leaving little messages of memorable moments with the baby and some pictures. A few months goes by and one day he receives a call. It's a very frantic you on the other end and he can't help the immense amount of relief he feels as he hears your voice begging him to see your child. He brings the babybones to the hospital and stays quiet as he watches you two cuddling. He doesn't speak up until you thank him for watching the babybones. Tells you there's nothing to thank him for he was doing his job as a father and then it's quiet for a bit more before he hesitantly approaches and bows his head. He apologizes for his actions, for not trusting you, for everything you had to deal with alone. He's not expecting you to forgive him he wouldn't forgive himself but he does want to be apart of the child's life and immediately says so making sure you're aware of his intentions. Most likely to take you to court for custody of you refuse to let him father his child.

Stretch:Was woken up by the knock and answered the door still half asleep. Hears the story, takes the kid, thanks them and closes the door. It takes him like five whole minutes until he's like wait what the fuck. Holds the baby Infront of him by the armpits and looks at his mini lookalike with horror. Holy fucking shit he was wrong? He's a dad?? YOU'RE IN A COMA?? He gets lightheaded for a second and sits down on the couch with the crying baby in his arms. He hesitantly rocks the babybones not really sure what he's doing and immediately calls Blue. He's shaking as he's on the phone with his brother who says he's on the way. When Blue gets there he shows Stretch which foods the baby can eat and how to care for it. Stretch appreciates the help and kind of throws himself into caring for the child instead of thinking about the fact you're in a coma. He's sleeping on a beanbag chair in the nursery and wakes up as soon as the baby starts crying. Every waking moment is spent caring and playing with the babybones. Sometimes late at night he thinks about you and everything he's lost and missed out on but you've given him the best gift he could have ever asked for, a son. He visits you in the hospital occasionally leaving your favorite flower and pictures of the baby he's taken. Surprise surprise a month later when he gets a call and you're alive desperate to see you're baby. He brings the child and is grateful to see you awake when he hands him over. He immediately apologizes he tells you how wonderful his son is and how much he loves him and begs you to let him be apart of the child's life. He understands if you don't want him back as much as he misses you he fucked up he wasn't there and you almost died because he wasn't. He just loves his kid man he will be there for him and you if you let him.

[moss-on-trees]

dp x dc prompt:

au where nobody in amity ever found out danny was phantom (not even wes).

danny had to handle everything by himself and came out of it very traumatised. because of his lack of support he made more mistakes than in canon, which resulted in a lot of guilt and self-loathing.

he is sixteen when the justice league dismantles the giw and arrests his parents - whom he stopped making excuses for long ago - for their unethical practices. the portal is shut down and vlad detained shortly after he attempted to free maddie.

danny doesn't have anyone to fight against anymore: his rogues are in the ghost zone and unlikely to come out of it now that portals aren't readily available. they're closer to friends than enemies now anyway, and he learnt to make his own portals so he can visit.

life is good. jazz has custody of him until his majority and they're in a witness protection program specialised in helping children of villains. they were relocated to another city. danny has the time to study again and no one knows him and his sister as the kids of mad scientists, which makes it easier to fit in in his new school.

but he's feeling restless and he keeps getting nightmares, haunted by everything that went wrong in amity before the justice league even noticed. it feels like the guilt is going to eat him alive and his chronic pain from his accident keeps making it worse for his mental health.

he decides to go fly as phantom for the first time in months, both to fulfill his space obsession and look at the stars, and to decompress.

he's not expecting to collide into anyone.

[zucchichat]

My opinion to "desperate" artists and TIPS TO IMPROVE YOUR ART

This is my art journey

6 years later...

If artists want support and followers, they should earn them by their own accomplishments and hard-work.

I hate it when they earn it from guilt-tripping others, being desperate and earn followers out of pity

You can never have a stable and healthy relationship with your followers that way, and you may get worse when you dont gain any interactions with them

Please stop doing this, and start growing your acc on your own. If you feel like your art doesnt appeal to others, start taking advice and study from other artists around you that you like. There are thousands of FREE resources on all platforms: Instagram, Youtube (recommended) , Pinterest (for reference) ,... And alot of separate websites you can find!

Trust me, hard work pays off

Its okay to feel like you dont improve at all, but thats not true, if you study and practice often (no need to do it everyday, it can be 2-4 days a week) you're already better than yourself yesterday

Compare your art to other artists has alot of benefits since you can see what to improve and see the progress. But dont do that too often, it'll turn to be an unhealthy obsession and in this world where there're always people better than you, you'll suffocate yourself forever. Thats a hard hit to reality but it's the truth. In this i recommend:

Find artists that you like and set them as your art goals, they can be artists with totally different artstyles, art is never something stable and its always good to try new things

From your art goals, start "taking" some of your favourite things about the artists and "artistically" add them to your own.

Tracing is another way to study privately for beginners, but i dont recommend doing this for long, it can stagnant your progress if you rely on it too much.

Unless its your style of choice, practice confidence in your streaks and lines, use your whole arm to draw (i know it can be boring at first, but everything you do now will have a rewarding result)

Stepping out of your comfort zone sometimes. You dont have to do this if you consider art as a hobby, but if youre serious or wanting your art to take a new step, i recommend expanding your art to many categories, like drawing backgrounds, hands, poses, anatomy, ect.

Study color theory, this is optional but i heavily recommend, this makes your art UPGRADE NO EXCEPTIONS

Here are some of my very basic tips, you've probably seen them everywhere and hear these thousands of times already, but if you're reading this and feel motivated, consider this the start of your journey! This is gonna be an exciting, might be tiring and frustrating, but memorable

Goodluck! The future awaits new extremely talented artists to bloom💖