#ha ha i have... no idea what to tag this with
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gojosoups · 3 days ago
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Late Night Treat ── teaser
gojo satoru x reader | 18+, modern au
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Summary: Stuck at work after your deadbeat boyfriend forgets to pick you up from your overtime shift, you find yourself walking down the streets at midnight in your uncomfortable work clothes and 5-inch heels. Tired and frustrated, and your phone long dead, you stumble upon a remote gas station in search of help, where you meet a mysterious figure clad in all-black leather, refueling his motorcycle at an ungodly hour.
Pairing: biker! gojo satoru x reader
Warning/tags: 18+, smut, slight angst, modern au, female reader, strangers to one night stand or moree, cheating, reader has a dead beat bf, jealousy, use of vulgar language, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband!, [more tags tba]
a/n: this was sm fun to write, also idk shit about bikes.. I just picked wtv bike google told me LMFAO. art credits to @/uruyuuu.
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Who said walking home alone in a pair of 5-inch heels was an easy feat? No one, that's who. Because what sane person would walk down the scummy streets of downtown at an ungodly hour when all buses and subway stations are closed and not a single taxi is in sight?
Fuck work and fuck your promotion. 
All you want right now is to be under your warm blanket, with a glass of wine and some shitty Netflix series playing in the background.
Oh and fuck your deadbeat of a boyfriend too—probably too busy gooning off to some low-quality hentai to pick up your call, leaving you stranded at work while you're freezing your ass off.
Shutting your phone off after the 5th missed call, you shove it into your purse, probably getting lost in the mess of paperwork and pens, cursing his name under your breath.
You continue your trek, walking along the unsteady gravel road, each step bringing you closer to a sprained ankle, but honestly, you didn’t have enough energy to care. 
And if your situation couldn't get any worse—you were lost. 
The buzzing of fluorescent lights pulls you out of your inner turmoil. Snapping your head and somehow managing not to give yourself whiplash, you find a rundown gas station barely five feet away. 
Everything about this screamed “BAD IDEA!!”
But you were running out of fucks to give.
Ankles aching, you near the gas station. The neon sign of the gas station buzzing and flickering, with a few missing letters, renaming it as “G— Stat—n.”
You swear you almost saw a comically large tumbleweed rolling down the road. 
Somehow, you manage to haul your ass to the deserted gas station, your brows furrowing as you see a stranger pumping gas into his Yamaha YZF-R1—a sleek black bike accented with deep blue—under the flickering neon sign.
Well, at least you know how you're getting home now.
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taglist: @baepsays @myahfig4 @joemama-2 @levislug @etsuniiru @vm4879bb-blog @lil-cinn @nanasukii28 @1satoruu @dahliabite @strawberiicreme @madamechrissy @memymay @moncher-ire @penguingirlanzu @antisocialinlw @angelina7890 @oh-my-god-donald @descargueestoporgojosatoru @synthe4u @jkslaugh97 @blubearxy @collectionofdolls @ourfinalisation @byakuya61085 @re-tired-succubus @manyno ── please have your age visible on your blog to join the taglist
𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.
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paracosmicka · 2 days ago
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sonic tma au? 👀👀👀👀👀
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE POSTED IT ABOUT IT EVEN THO I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF ABOUT MY SONIC/TMA AU
Okay to start out with, I’ve been calling the “Primal Fears au” and it started out as a working title but I don’t really have any better ideas and the tag I have on all of my posts about this tma au is #primal fears au (idk how to imbed a hyperlink into text but like if you go into the search thingy over my blog and just type that tag in you’ll see all my previous posts about it that are from OVER A YEAR AGO IT’S BEEN SO LONG 😭)
Okay uhhhhh idk how to organize this so just get ready for a shit ton of sketches and art lol
here are some more fleshed out character sheets (than my very post about them) for Sonic and Shadow, they’re not final yet tho obviously
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was fighting demons drawing Shadow’s main design for some reason
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general sketch ideas for Sonic and Shadow
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And my favorite part of this au is that I just get to categorize all the Sonic characters into which fear entity would they serve so here are some character sheet ideas:
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Okay this last one is Infinite and I know he’s not everyone’s favorite bc he’s just so
..mid ig in the games but redesigning him as an avatar of the Spiral has been so fun. Also bonus points if you know what Doctor Who episode I stole this dialogue from lol:
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and finally I thought Iïżœïżœïżœd just share an idea I had of a “cover” for my Primal Fears au
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Okay I think those are all the presentable sketches I have but there are so so so many more ideas I have and it’s not going to help bc I’m feeling the annual urge to relisten to The Magnus Archives again especially bc the new season of The Magnus Protocol comes out soon.
But yeah anyway feel free to ask any questions/share ideas if you’d made your own TMA/Sonic au I love yapping about horror and this au is like my child. Actually that’s not a very good analogy bc all of my sonadow aus are my babies. I just love sonadow sorry I will continue to be insane
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thedemisapphic · 3 days ago
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As someone with epilepsy I feel obligated to reblog this. I had no idea it was a problem but I DO AGREE this IS AN ISSUE!!! Y’all might not realize how fast flashing lights can trigger a seizure. Growing up I was always avoiding them because I didn’t know if they were a trigger for me or not. Once you see them, it might be too late. There’s no scrolling away really quickly. That’s it. The lights triggered the seizure. Maybe not right away, but still.
Luckily I don’t think I get triggered by them, but I still HATE THEM. I got used to avoiding strobe lights and now I just can’t stand them. Especially after going through a couple tests where the subject you to constant strobes for what feels like forever.
If you read TSR you know that Raph has epilepsy in it near the end. That is almost directly based on things i’ve either personally witnessed or been through. I take seizures very seriously because I know what they can do, and have heard stories of how terrifying mine was when I had it.
Littering the epilepsy tag with triggering content does not sound helpful, and I’m glad this has been brought to my attention so I can reblog it here. Seizures are incredibly dangerous and labeling triggering content incorrectly is just as bad, especially when it pushes us out of our own online spaces.
Please stop trigger tagging with #epilepsy tw/cw/warning/etc.
I need every single person to understand how horrible tumblr’s tagging system is
I go into the tag for epilepsy and its all flashing lights. We can’t use our own tag because people without epilepsy fill it up with improper warnings.
Use â€˜flashing’ in place of ‘epilepsy’ in your tags. You aren’t warning people of epileptics, you’re warning us of flashing lights. Please please tag properly. Epileptics say this endlessly and constantly and it’s ignored. You are risking lives by doing this.
Here’s proof of what I mean:
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THIS POST IS 100% OKAY TO REBLOG, I ENCOURAGE PEOPLE WITHOUT EPILEPSY TO ESPECIALLY DO SO!
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custardtartsfan · 2 days ago
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Jason Todd head canons that have accumulated over time
many thoughts about the boy constantly rattle around my brain and i would like to share them àŽŠà”àŽŠàŽż(ᔔᗜᔔ) nothing hanky panky ish for i do not like to think about that
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general bullshit ᝰ.ᐟ
he doesnt trust modern technology. he has a Motorola razr. no he will not upgrade, stop asking
has VERY messy hand writing. straight chicken scratch. barley legible
smoked during his late teens (post resurrection period, he was going through it). tried quitting in his early twenties, he bought a menthol flavour geek bar but threw it out cause Roy made fun of him
it wasnt even one of the cool ones with a screen. smh
he has a weird nostalgic affection for the thrift
it reminds him of being a kid, in the rare moments that his mother was sober enough to take him somewhere. and it was nice, his mom was conscious, all was well
and he could get whatever he wanted! he wanted a toy? sure bud, its only a dollar. why the hell not?
he recently walked into a Goodwill and damn near burst an artery when he looked at the tag on a pair of pants. it was NOT like this back in his day
his hair is like wavy, like not curly but wavy. however, he has no idea how to really care for it. shits dry is what im saying
i think hes very competitive about stupid shit
not like he gets pissy about mario kart, he will race you to see who can fold their socks the fastest
largest of the batfam. vertically and horizontally. hes a beefy dude. a brick shithouse
i think hes also the kind of dude that needs to know someone very well before he could consider dating them. id even go as far to say hes somewhere on the aro spectrum
i think he has a very high spice tolerance. like youll pry his siracha out of his cold re-dead hands. he LOVES African curry (yes this one is based off me) thats like his perfect kind of spice
back to his hatred of technology, he collects cds to listen to instead of streaming
he has one of those hip disk players with the headphones. Red Hood has been seen with a walkman
also hates tv, but will watch the news willingly. he will sit down and watch Wolf Blitzer of his own accord
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romantic (à­šà­§â€ą ê’ł ‱)=:♡
remember when i said he has the handwriting of an 18 month old toddler? yea well thats a little unfortunate cause he LOVES leaving notes for his lover. when he has to slip out the window for a job in the middle of the night, he writes a little note - “had to take care of something, be back soon. with bagels. love, Jay :)” but its written so janky his lover is spending the whole time hes gone trying to decipher it
dont tell him that though, he might cry
hes not a talker particularly. words tend to come out wrong in his experience. instead, he likes gifts acts of service to show you he cares
shopping with him and youre eying a particular top for a while? guess what’s mysteriously appeared in your laundry basket
lowq doesn’t have motion though..soo it might have been Bruce card. but honestly? money is money who gaf
what he occasionally lacks in funds he makes up for in willingness to let you do whatever you want to him
he will waddle after you in sephora, freaking out the occasional employee cause holy FUCK who invited the punisher, letting you swatch whatever you want on his hand
if you’re concerned about the milk in the fridge being yuck, give it to him to taste. he’ll let you know
there is no mountain to high, no dubious forgotten leftover too unhappy looking
cannot cook for SHIT. but he loves to eat
he will mention wanting food and stare at you longingly until you go to the kitchen
hes not gonna be playing fortnite while you’re cooking though, he can chop stuff. you may not want him within 50 feet of a place where food is prepared but he will offer
bless his heart
runs hot like a furnace. probably because hes a large meaty boy
he will grumble like a pensioner when you tuck yourself into his chest at night when its cold, but we both know damn well hes gonna be giggling and kicking his steel toed boots when he tells Roy about it later
he had pretty mixed, strewing negative opinions, about his little white tuft of hair at the front. hes tried cutting it, it grew back the same. he bought box dye, it doesnt take. so hes stuck with it. and he cant say hes happy about it
until you came along, all full of love and life, telling him you loved it. you though it framed his face perfectly and suited him great. you and your fancy affection fuck you
(he was cheesing for hours)
okay lets get sad now
hes got BADD anxiety about hurting you without meaning to. its a reasonable concern, hes a big dude. and these hands dont do a lot of cradling as a rule, more beating heads in
he needs to be reassured, but would rather roll around in broken glass then swim in lemonade than let that be known. hes more of a stare at you until you sooth him
he likes to be kissed and cuddled and cared for. so what? hes only incredibly ashamed. it doesnt matter how many times you re iterate that he has no reason to be, hes a stubborn bitch
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thats all ive got! i hope you enjoyed reading my real time jason todd related word association. most of these were typed in a fury on the mobile web app on the subway so..if the formatting is yucky thats up to god (-.-;)y-~~~
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darinawrites · 3 days ago
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àč‘—Telling squid game characters you want a cat—àč‘
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Characters: Se-mi, Hyun ju, In ho, Dae ho, Thanos, Salesman
A/n: This was requested a while ago, but Tumblr is weird and I can't find it </3 hope you still read this. Also, the damm tags don't work 😭 can someone tell me what's wrong and why they won't work constantly?
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â”†ćœĄSe-mi
*ੈI see Se-mi as the biggest cat person ever. There's something about those small creatures that have a soft spot in her heart. So, of course she'd be overjoyed if you suggested it before her.
*ੈHer favorite would be a black cat, they're the cutest and cuddliest for her.
*ੈOverfeeds the cat once you buy it. She can't help it, one small pleading of a meow and the snacks are already out. You'd have to remind her and she'd understand to be more resistant in the future.
*ੈBuys only the essentials, but the most high quality ones you could ever think of. She doesn't believe a cat needs so much, but she does think they need good material.
*ੈBuys small white bows to clip it on the kitty, the contrast so vast. It reminds her a bit of the style she has, like a small reflection of herself.
*ੈThe cat will be sleeping on the bed, no buts.
*ੈShe will treat the cat as like a child she birthed herself. She isn't amazed of the idea of getting a child, so this would be a great substitute! Her kitty is the one and only child she needs.
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â”†ćœĄSalesman (can we get this guy a name)
*ੈWouldn't be fond of the idea. He doesn't like animals generally, a pet wouldn't be ideal for him and it would take a lot of convincing for him to even let you speak out your idea.
*ੈAgainst all odds, you did somehow manage to get the small kitty. But be prepared for even more work. Do not expect him to do anything, it was your own idea.
*ੈBuying food and essentials. Vet trips and feeding. It's all up to you, you should've known what you were signing up for.
*ੈHe does not even acknowledge the kitties existence. Everytime it purrs as it rubs against his leg once he's back from work he doesn't react, not in the slightest. Despite your pleads, he simply answers that the pest is lucky enough to even live with you.
*ੈMaybe one day his cold facade would fade away (it won't).
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â”†ćœĄIn-ho
*ੈWouldn't oppose the idea nor be fond of it. He's indifferent and couldn't care much about a pet, especially since he's filled with work most of the time. He'll get you one if you want to, but don't think he wanted it.
*ੈRarely does anything with the cat. He'll do basics like feeding it, but doesn't go beyond that. He doesn't really see much in the ball of fluffy cotton.
*ੈGives you as much money as you want for the cat, while he doesn't care much for it he knows they take a lot of work to properly take care of. Doesn't know a thing about anything you're buying, so he just hopes its only essentials that are draining his wallet (they're not).
*ੈOver the time, he will grow fond of the cat. Against his own wishes, he starts to like the purrs, the fur, the accidental bites. He won't ever admit the care he grew to have, it's a just a pet, no?
*ੈBut his indifferent facade can't fool you. You saw the way he spends more time with the little kitty, letting it in his office, letting it crawl on his hand to pick it up. You won't say anything, but a small smile would come up at the thought of your cold husband warming up to the pet.
*ੈPicks the cat up in his lap any chance he gets. It's so relaxing to feel the vibrations of purrs against him as he softly strokes the fur while doing his work.
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â”†ćœĄHyun ju
*ੈNever thought of the idea. She was content with the both of you, the suggestion of something else never popping up in her mind.
*ੈYou have to give her a little time to think about it. This is a big responsibility, something she's a bit nervous about to mess up.
*ੈ"Are you sure this is what you really want, and it will make you happy?" once you nod in response and she reveals that she'll get you a cat, you're ecstatic.
*ੈAfter hours of deciding, you finally chose a small white kitty! She wouldn't care much about the type of cat she'd get, so she gave the authority to you to pick one out.
*ੈSpent hours of research to know what its trying to say. If she should pet it or it's uncomfortable, if the kitty's hungry or not. You just know she's trying her best. <3
*ੈLazy mornings with her and a fluffy cat on your thigh while her big arms cuddle you is all you've ever needed.
*ੈThe difference between the small kitten in her huge palms always makes you melt.
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â”†ćœĄThanos
*ੈTruth be told you were the one hesitant to tell him, despite the immense joy you'd get from a kitten. You weren't sure he would be responsible enough, but at the end you gave in to the desires and told him.
*ੈOf course he'd say yes, he loves any type of animals. Even if more exotic ones would be his preferred ones. As long as you're happy and have a pet, he'll put it aside.
*ੈBuying the most energetic orange cat you've ever seen. He needs an energetic companion, one that matches him.
*ੈAnd you just know he will give it the stupidest and absurd name you've heard. There's no stoping him, sadly. But you'll somehow grow used to it.
*ੈBrings the cat everywhere, especially in his recording studio. They're inseparable, seen always together. That's his buddy now, even adding some of his meows to his songs once he has the chance to.
*ੈVictim of overfeeding #2. Everytime it comes up to him he simply gives him a snack. What else is he supposed to do?
*ੈYou also have to tell him to be careful when he cuddles kitty, that man is practically squeezing every bit of life out of the poor thing.
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â”†ćœĄDae ho
*ੈDae ho is definitely a dog person. Despite his love for all animals, he'd still prefer a dog over a cat. But he wouldn't oppose it, not at all. Especially once he sees how happy it makes you.
*ੈYou'd play a little game and whoever wins decides. And to your surprise, you actually won against him! (he let you win to see you smile)
*ੈHe'll be honest, he wasn't exactly fond of the little brown kitten you brought back. But seeing your smile and the glint in your eyes made him appreciate the cat a little more.
*ੈAnd, don't worry. It won't take long before he's swooning over the sight of the kitty. The little disappointment of the loss of a dog not lasting long as he's now in the trance of the big goopy black eyes the kitten has.
*ੈAlways cuddling with it. He can't help it, the fur so fluffy and the size smaller than his hands, it's too much for his heart to take.
*ੈEqually shares the chores of the cat. He isn't one to do nothing nor everything, you're both equal and both love the kitty.
*ੈChooses the cutest and most meaningful name he can muster. Something that will always remind himself of you when he calls out for the cat <3
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torntvs · 2 days ago
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#01 ★ BABY IM SO LONELY IN MY MANSION
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NANAMI KENTO; co-workers, nsfw, minor dni.
summary: you and your co-worker have a differentiated affinity towards each other. when a stupid office party has you both escaping with each other, you find yourself being fucked for the first time by your office crush. tags: nsfw, fluffy on some part, p in v sex, handjob, eating out, nasty asf, mention of cervix, overstimulation, lots of cumming. lots literally. both are kinda lovesick, wordy smut because it's my first time writing smut...
word count: 3.5k
ayen's talk: it's my first time writing here so please forgive me if this is boring, but i enjoyed writing it so much! thank you for reading.
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Nanami Kento was a man of respect. Disciplined, punctual and whatever it took to be a good man. The idea of emotions was a contradiction to his nature, and naturally when he saw his co-worker observing him; apologies, checking him out. He choked on his whiskey. His amber eyes a little hazy due to intoxication, fingers gently gliding across his lips to wipe the liquid off. 
It was nothing new to him, people checked him out all the time. The taut muscles underneath stretched his polo shirt. Sometimes the button strained against his braid chest agonisingly, fighting for their life. Women, divorced or married came to him with a smile so charming that any man would swoon over and take them to his bed.
But it was Nanami Kento now. This man had a strict policy of no one night stand, even if he had few flings in his teenage years. 
You, being the intrigued coworker that Nanami worked with, kept your eyes on him. Drinking up every detail of his figure. Sturdy body, baritone voice, amber eyes— he's so dreamy. Certainly, your night when your ecstasy peaked were filled with his thoughts. How would his fingers skim across your skin? How would his lips trail down your body leaving a burning fire in its wake, how would he sound? How did his cock looked—
You shook your head furiously, stupid stupid stupid. You groaned as you clutched your own glass of orange juice, opting for not getting drunk tonight. Your fingers pressed across your thighs in an attempt to smoothen out the creases or distract you from your thoughts, so unholy.
Nanami on the other hand stared at you bewildered. Orange juice? Orange juice— he rubbed his face. Maybe in disappointment or endearment he didn't know. You were definitely someone he had seen around, maybe had stolen a glance or two during meetings, or secretly slipped a cup of coffee in your office or a packet of your favourite sandwich. It may sound obsessive, but he shared a good relationship with you. 
Except—
You both were crazily attracted towards each other. So crazy, that one good Monday while brushing your teeth in the morning you'd moan around your brush thinking it's Kento’s finger. Your face warmed up at the embarrassing memory as your hand shot up to rub your forehead. Fucking hell, he'll make me go nuts.
Nanami hummed, the alcohol leaving him a little delirious amidst the party. Even if you were not drunk, you could get drunk on the sight of him. Face flushed, lips parted as he looked at his tie, hair disheveled as he ran his fingers through them again and again. It was a while before you were snapped out of your delusions.
“You are staring.” 
Oh the velvety baritone ringing in your ears as your eyes looked up– a very much flushed yet mildly tipsy Nanami took his seat in front of you. Fingers wrapping around his glass of whiskey. Oh god— good heavens he looks like my finest dream. You bit your lips, an attempt to shy away. Face flushing pink as you took a sip of your orange juice. “Orange juice?” He asked curiously. You chuckled nervously– damn what am I supposed to answer— “I like my drink non alcoholic.”
Nanami raised an eyebrow in question, leaning in a little. Maybe it was the alcohol that was making his decency slip away or his own thoughts mangled into something that said— yeah man, it's today or never. Your words died on your lips as you saw his questioning stare. Oh fuck, did I loose my first impression—
“Wanna get out?” Nanami cursed himself in his head. What are you? Eighteen? He groaned inside his throat, masking his irritation with himself with a cough. You tilted your head, fingers already trembling around your glass of juice. 
“S-sure—?” 
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You regret saying sure, that's for sure. Because the way this man had you pressed against the elevator walls, kissing you hungrily. All rowdy and dominant– his respect thrown away. Maybe you were wrong about his decency being thrown away because his fingers trailed across your jaw. Softly cardling your face in his hands as he pressed his body onto yours. 
This all began with a simple, harmless offer. “Want to come over for some tea?” That all being said, built up a stupid sexual tension (not that is wasn't there before, it surely was with the way you were checking him out at the club, or the way his hands gently brushed against against your waist when he was escorting you out of the club, or was it when his eyes met yours in the elevator while talking about having a significant other.)
Whatever began this stupid foreplay, it was making you feel hot. Face flushed and eyes wide open as your hands wrapped around his blurry arms— you didn't know. Was it in an attempt to pull him closer tpor to push him away with embarrassment. You opted for the second.
Gripping his tie, with the weird strangled moan that left your throat as you pushed him away. Nanami was flushed vermilion, eyes droopy and breath ragged as his hands stilled over your waist. His senses started to flush back in and his eyes widened— your lipstick smeared across your lips as you gripped into his tie tightly, knuckles turning white. “I— I am so SORRY—” he started to babble, but before he could stray further into the infinite loop of self embarrassment— your hands pressed against his mouth. “At Least— l-let me– get ready?” You spoke out, turning a deep shade of red, blood pressure reaching its peak that you could hear your pulse in your ears. Nanami too could hear your heartbeat, him blinking slowly. 
“Oh?” he spoke, with a teasing grin. His fingers pressed against the supple flesh of your waist earning a gasp from you. Lips hovering over your ear, “Are you
 scared my darling?” he murmured, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he pulled away your hand from his tie. “Tell me to stop and I'll step back.” his chest rumbled against yours and a shiver ran down your spine. Gaze moving upwards in a desperate attempt to meet his— nervous, nervous, nervous. 
He chuckled, his amber eyes gazing intensely into yours as his other hand cupped your face brushing across the apple of your cheeks. You would have blamed it on the alcohol if you didn't know this man’s tolerance— and by the looks of it he was tipsy but not drunk. The teasing smile that curved around his lips, and his gaze. It left a different kind of heat pooling between your stomach. Slow and warm; spreading like a wildfire. Your breath hitched as the elevator door dinged and opened, eyes wary as it started out— trying to locate any other human near your vicinity. 
A contented hum emitted from the back of his throat as you dragged him by his tie– chuckling as you stole a kiss or two between the corridors to your apartment. Nanami's hands wrapped around your waist as he kissed you feverishly, a soft intensity but with a deeper intent. Softly lapping against yours, eyes droopy as he held your chin this time. Pressed against your apartment door, your fingers fumbled with the keys— too busy kissing the man rather than getting back in your apartment.
Frustratedly pulling away from the kiss you still fumbled with the key. Kento, as mentioned before, a man of great patience swiftly takes the keys away from your hands and pulls your back into the kiss. Embarrassment seeps deep in your veins as you hear the familiar ‘click’ of your door and he's pushing both of you inside your cozy apartment. 
It's all more messy from here, his fingers hooking around your tight pencil skirt as he tries to unzip the side and make you sit on the nearest flat surface. You gasp as you hear a sharp ‘skrt’— the sound of your expensive pencil skirt tearing. “Sorry— will buy you another—” he mumbled into your mouth, trailing wet kisses all over your jaw and neck, settling you on the kitchen counter. You whined feeling his fingers slip under your shirt, trailing the skin on your stomach but not going past that. 
“Pretty girl— all messed up for me.” He grunted, wrapping your legs around his waist and picking you up. “Which—? Which way’s the bedroom sweetheart?” He groaned, leaving love bites all over your neck. 
It was all too much for you, the fiery touches— the open-mouthed kisses and the subtle skin touching. You were feeling like fire, core aching with want as your brows furrowed. A whimper left your lips as he put you down on your bed, hovering over your body. “So– so so beautiful, wanted to love ya since I saw ya darling—” he murmured, unbuttoning your blouse at a slow pace, savouring every inch of your skin with his gaze and kisses. 
By this time, Kento was painfully aware of his groin straining against his slacks. He groaned as he stared at how fucked out you looked, only with heavy makeout session? What else can he do to you?
You pouted, as your fingers reached down, maintaining eye contact and feeling a little silly for remembering your friend's ‘it’s all in the eyes baby’ as you palmed his crotch. To which you had been blessed with a heavenly whimper from the gorgeous man above you, eyes closed, brows furrowed, sweat glistening at the corner of his neck that made you wanna lick him up & you did.
A slowly languid lick against his neck, pressing your lips against his pulse point. Sucking on the skin above it, and leaving a gentle bite— trailing tender marks against his jaws and neck as your fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, raking through his blond hair. The man shuddered, his hips buckling involuntary as he parted his mouth in a moan.
Heaven sent an angel, you thought as your fingers worked furiously on breaking the buttons of his polo shirt. Nanami bewildered and flustered held your hands, “W-what are you doing—?” He stuttered. He stuttered, and that made a vicious grin curl up on your face as you replied airly, but with dominant tone— “You ruined my skirt, only fair if I return the favour—”
A laugh rumbled through his throat, his hands again shaking around your waist and pulling you up, making you sit on his lap as he laid on the bed. “You bet.” He chuckled, fingers brushing against the skin under your bra. Already half undone shirt and wrecked lipstick all over your face, you took a sharp breath at the sight under you. 
Maroon lipstick stains across honey brown skin, drunken and glazed amber eyes staring back at you with a love sick grin. Oh, absolutely sick. Absolutely wrecked. A wicked thought passed through your mind before you grind your hips onto his crotch. The love sick smile soon morphing into a pained pleasure as his eyes closed. The sounds this man emitted made your cunt clech harshly.
“You minx– ah ah slow down—” he grunted, as he felt you rut against his clothed groin. The friction created a heat that made his cock swell up ten times more in his pants. Oh the delight on your face as you felt him against your wet cunt. You threw your head back, buckling your hips in to feel some kind of friction. “D-darling slow down—” he gasped as your fingers fumbled with his belt. With ease you were able to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down freeing him. He let out a sound, between cough and a whimper as the cool air touched his tip. Red and angry, with pearls of precum dripping down his length. 
He was big, really. And you blinked for a moment taking in his anatomy before your eyes. Surely, your first time should be someone like him— and the idea of this, and by this you meant his cock entering you— made a weird excitement tingle around your toes. “P-pretty
” you mumbled, fingers brushing against the tip as you admired the small trail of golden hair at the base. Slowly wrapping your fingers around his cock, hands moving slowly as you observed his expressions, the heave of his chest, the way he cursed with every breath and begged for release.
Kento Nanami was a man of respect, but the way he had planned to fuck her disrespectfully tonight crumbled when he saw her twinkling eyes taking in his disheveled state under her touch. He cursed, “F-fuck— fuck, FUCK.” buckling his hips into her hand as she licked the tip, pressing her nail softly on the base and feeling his balls tighten. You were mesmerised by his reactions— a man of such neutrality crumbling with your touch. 
He felt embarrassment run over his face as he felt his high approach, “Fuck— darling s-stop ‘m gunna c-cum—” his breath hitched, vision turning white as he felt himself release. White spurts of thick cum dribbled down your hands and lips as you gasped. Fuck, he knew he was going to cum too soon— too good and by your glorious looks of curiosity. He huffed, pressing his arms over his eyes, breathing in and out at a steady pace. 
Slowly moving away, and licking your hands as you did so, you sat on top of him. He looked
 so vulnerable—
A gasp pushed past your lips as you felt yourself being pushed down into the mattress. Eyes widening, as Kento forcefully pulled off his already ruined shirt— also urging you to take off your blouse. His fingers worked too fast for you to realise he was tearing away your slacks. With a squeal of your own, you find Kento between your legs pressing sweet kisses on your inner thighs. Dewy eyes staring back at you as your face runs hot from embarrassment or want— you knew not what. With a shy voice, but still feeling safe to speak up you mumbled whispering, “It’s
 my first
 time
” 
Kento looked up, stopping his actions. Pupils blown wide as he takes in your flustered state. A tender smile lingers on his lips as he places another soft kiss against your inner thighs before placing a soft kiss on your lips. “G’unna make it worth a lifetime.” He grunted, pulling your leg over his shoulder as he blew softly on your soaked panties. A shudder ran through your body, fingers grasping the pillow under your head agonisingly tight as you try to close your thighs yet he pulls them open and gazes at you from there. “Say darling? Want me? ” He muttered, teeth biting softly on the soaked material on your panty before  pulling it away.. Eyes taking in the heavenly sight of your soaked cunt, slobbering up at all the teasing as humping— a testament to the activities occurring before he put a kiss on your cunt.
Such sweet streams of cries emitted from your mouth, clasping at his hair as you try to pry away. Kento was french kissing your pussy in such a vulgar manner, biting, sucking, abusing your poor core until you were in tears. Hands gripping at the roots of his hair  as he softly sucked on your clit making your arch your back in pleasure. His finger slowly making its way to rub your clit, tongue slowly pushing past your entrance as you squirmed at the warm mushiness of his tongue. Kento ate you like a man starved. His mouth sucking up every bit of your slick, fingers over your thighs and then pinching your clit. His other hand was busy bullying you entrance it seemed. The stretch from his fingers making you lock your leg around his head— his laugh tickled your core as he continued pulling out cries of pleasures out of you.
“Look— at her, so sweet mmhm–” he murmured, devouring your cunt. The overstimulation was really getting you, head light as you let tears stream down your cheeks. Trashing to a certain point as if the blooming pleasure promised a burst out of you. You came with an unexpected thrum against your ribs, legs trembling as Nanami let out a uff— Mind blank and already dumbed out, you blink lazily as you stare down.
Oh.
Oh no. Your eyes twitch as you force yourself to get back up but Kento pushed you back on the bed, straddling you under him once again. His face glistened with your release dripping down as he gave a smirk. A mean smirk as he hiked your leg over his shoulder. “You..” he hummed, pressing a kiss on your hands, “...squirted.” his grin back on. “And now— darling. Fuck you look so fucked out—” he grunted, pulling off your bra and letting the cool air kiss your skin. The straps had left some angry edges on your skin, to which he kissed the skin there softly. Tender bites against your bosom as his fingers playing with your nipples, earning a strangled cry from you. “You look so— fuck baby look at you trying to rut on me.”
There was this primal need that ganwes your abdomen. Kento with a sly smile pressed into your lower belly, humming contentedly and hitting your nub with his tip. “Ah— fuck baby, gonna make luv—” he breathed throught gritted teeth, body trembling as he rubbed himself onto your pulsating entrance. “If it hurts— lemme know—” he groans, pushing his tip in slowly.
The stretch, the oh so delicious, delirious, mind fuck stretch that had you arch your back and wrap your hips around him. Your hands wrapping tightly around his arms in an attempt to calm yourself down. The way Kento was struggling not to push himself all in but to admire the reactions he was pulling out of you. “Fuck— baby- fuccck—” his chest thrummed with his heartbeat as he stared into you eyes. 
“Come— on, deep yes deep breaths. Slowly— fuck baby s-so tight.” He moaned, half way through pushing himself in. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as a pout rested on your lips, fingers trembling as they traced his face. “Hurt- good hurt ung— yes y-yes—” huffing as you closed your eyes, digging your head back into the pillows.
By the time Kento bottomed out, you trapped him tightly inside you with your legs. “N-no, don't— feels so full.” A broken breath leaves your mouth, but Kento had other plans. He slowly moved out, staring at your face contract into a blissful state as you dig your nails into his neck earning a hiss from him. 
It's slow, but sturdy as he moves in you. “See— baby so good f-for me, yeah. Eyes on me d-darling. Look at Kento—” he groaned at the crook of your neck, his pace increasing. The continuous sound of plap plap plap resonating as you get crossed eyes. The oversensitivity that you felt was beyond your imagination, pleasure and pain sending shock waves throughout your body as you tried to remain conscious. Eyes painfully strained at him as he talked you through it. 
“Y-yeah baby? Feel this?” he pressed his palm onto your tummy making you whine out, “Can ya feel me hah, I'm so deep in you b-baby— ugh fuck” he grunted pushing his hips a little deeper now. And his head brutally kissing all the right spots inside you, making you absolutely fucked out, mind blank and the only coherent thought that you could form was, ‘Kento is fucking me—’ 
Strings of his name fell out of your plushy lips like a mantra as he hit the sweet spot in you, making you gasp— that was captured by his own lips as he fucked you up in the best way possible. You were going non-verbal because of the pleasure, body too overstimulated to even move from its place as you place a hand on his chest. ‘Okay okay, that'sokaykento too much— please please please’ 
You didn't know what you were begging for at this point, his cock filling you up so deliciously that all you could do was hold a hand over your mouth and sob because of the pleasure. A steady coil started to build in your abdomen making you clench hard on him. “Ha– baby– f-fuvk FUCK—” He fumbled as he spilled in you. Warm semen filling you up as your brows furrowed as you felt your own climax near. With a high pitched cry, holding onto his neck you came. He fucked you throught your irgams and his own, huffing deeply as he collapsed onto you.
His body weight pressing onto your body as you trembled underneath him. “D-darling— god I– love you” he stuttered, pressing kisses into your neck and dragging his fingers along your spine.
“One– more pretty girl, let me make love to you one more time.” He mumbled before pushing your head down into the pillows and arching your back.
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AN: after proof reading this i feel so flustered with my stupid vocabulary. but as they say, fake it till you make it. i'll pretend that this is good. hope you all enjoyed this? BECAUSE FIRST POST AND SICH SHITTY SHIT.
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khionefr0st · 2 days ago
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I already reblogged this with a novel’s worth of tags but just hold up. Cos this makes so much sense that it’s making me think
TLDR I changed my interpretation of Omelas and totally agree w/ OP
This analysis is actually so good that I have completely restructured my own interpretation of the Omelas. Prior to this post my sole interpretation was that Le Guin was trying to make commentary on certain different real world issues, issues like how we all use phones that were made with cobalt stained by the blood of deadly labor by black children on the other side of the world. But OP’s right, this isn’t exactly the case. Because the text actually presents its most fundamental premise in its most quoted paragraph - Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting, the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain, etc. which is to say that the issue the text is directly addressing is the fact that people cannot imagine a better world, a happy world, without the existence of a system that hurts others. It tells you right there in the fucking text but every single interpretation I’ve seen thus far has missed it. Hell, I missed it. I have never ever seen Omelas be interpreted this way before.
And I actually went to read Omelas again after this because the more I read it, the more it makes sense. It answers all my questions I had when I first read it. Like – if Omelas is supposed to be commentary on capitalism and the bliss of the Global North built on the suffering of the Global South, why did Le Guin insist on making the city of Omelas as ideal as possible? Why didn’t she make the city more akin to a society that is actually a product of capitalism? A society that comes with puritanism and a military if that was really the point she wanted to make? Because not only does she include the most ideal, happy utopia (and Le Guin is clearly very educated in terms of politics/socioeconomics because she knows what a Utopia looks like, with drugs and sex as part of society) she insists the audience imagine it on their own. She encourages the viewer to supplement the Utopia with their own ideas of what an ideal world looks like to them.
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She explicitly tells the audience to imagine an ideal city that “suits” us. So not necessarily a capitalist society. But why?
It’s because her point isn’t about utilitarianism or whether it’s worth it to make someone suffer if it means lots of people get to be happy. It’s because her point is that we have to reject the idea that a world where nobody suffers is impossible. The people who walk away from the omelas – there are many ways to interpret them still, and now that I’ve recontextualized the whole story in this perspective there are so many other passages I want to dissect but anyway – the people who walk away from the omelas could possibly represent the people who walk away from that idea, that the child must suffer for their happiness. You can’t imagine where they’re going, because you can’t even fathom abandoning the idea that a world exists where nobody suffers and everybody can be happy. That’s the message of The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas.
(also obviously im not saying this is the only correct interpretation or anything just this is the one that personally makes the most sense to me so I have now adapted it lol)
i have to say i think its kind of baffling when omelas is taken as a very literal trolley problem about a tortured kid instead of, like, pointedly making fun of the common idea that a positive world, social change, pleasure itself, must come with some sort of painful caveat in order for that happiness to hold meaning or exist in the first place... so many interpretations treat the idea of people walking away from a (very obviously hypothetical) utopia with an even more hypothetical evil underbelly as them lazily giving up on reforming Omelas the Real City, rather than them philosophically abandoning the idea that the (again, entirely theoretical) Omelas represents (that pleasure cannot exist without pain).
what is even the relevance of this to the "I would save the kid instead of abandoning it because I actually believe in changing the world" interpretations.
The trouble is that we have a bad habit, encouraged by pedants and sophisticates, of considering happiness as something rather stupid. Only pain is intellectual, only evil interesting. This is the treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain. If you can't lick 'em, join 'em. If it hurts, repeat it. But to praise despair is to condemn delight, to embrace violence is to lose hold of everything else. We have almost lost hold; we can no longer describe happy man, nor make any celebration of joy. (...) Do you believe? Do you accept the festival, the city, the joy? No? Then let me describe one more thing.
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hivemuthur · 3 days ago
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Hey! I was the one who wanted to request an arrange marriage (regency era) au with viktor and reader. I would like the reader to be bubbly and artistic (for painter/drawer), if that’s okay?
If you’ve watched bridgerton, perhaps reader would be apart of that family? But if you haven’t, that’s fine, just ignore this part lol
Hi Anon! So... this is happening. People this is my take on Bridgerton-inspired regency AU :v more under picture!
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A Deer and a Man - Ch.1.
viktorxfemale!reader mature (overall explicit) - tho this chapter is a little pornographic, there is some naked wrists, running around in nightgowns and men with loosened cravats, so proceed with caution :v
word count: 7,7K (it will be this long, sorry!)
tag: #d&m
summary: You are the eldest daughter of a noble family, soon to be married to one of the most eligible bachelors in the region—Viktor, the adopted son of House Talis. The arrangement is simple: a marriage that secures your family's wealth in exchange for access to Hextech. What could possibly go wrong?
author's note: Anon, forgive me, but I wasn't able to write it precisely into the Bridgerton universe, I don't know it nearly enough. Also, I got brain damaged while writing it and included the artist part as a pianist, as this is the subject I know best. Super special thanks to @mithrava who helped me with details (I almost squeezed our poor girl into a corset, but she fucking hates bras anyways) and to @rennethen who beta reads and brainstorms the ideas with me!
also the artist behind art is here!
Cross-posted on AO3
—
The first look into the mirror in the morning is always suspended between a thing in bloom and a thing fading away. What blossoms is the vision of yourself, wrapped up in a short stay, your form sculpted to society’s liking, cheeks brushed with a becoming rose tint, hair pinned into a careful bun, soft tendrils escaping to frame your face. The self that fades is the girl who may draw a full breath, whose flushed cheeks owe nothing to powder but to joy, whose wild curls defy taming. You greet her each evening and bid her farewell each morning, so that the lady—your family’s prized jewel—might step into the light. Mostly.
That is, when you were not hunched over the piano, playing Appassionata with a furious fervour instead of what your mother deemed proper, like some dull Hummel or Clementi. How utterly boring and soulless they seemed, that you could almost hear your night self scolding you each time your fingers reluctantly touched the keys to play one of those Sonatinas.
Running was also a thing you had to avoid, for the most part. Eating a whole apple was strictly vulgar. As for a whole egg—well, that was something to be done in the strict privacy of the kitchens, once you’d managed to filch one without the cooks noticing. Yanking your skirts up while sitting on the grass and scribbling was also one of those moments when, if your mother had caught you, she would have been most displeased, to say the least. All in all, you had precious little time to let your night self emerge during the waking hours. She was continually suppressed by the version of you that took small, delicate bites, drank tea from a tiny cup, and sat upright while playing agreeable tunes.
Today, of all days, it is imperative that your night self remain firmly in check, while your day self does her utmost to impress the very man you have already deemed beyond salvation—without so much as laying eyes on him. A rare occasion indeed, where both versions of you are in agreement.
He has but one benefit of the doubt, and that is Jayce Talis. A brilliant inventor you once encountered when you slipped away from your mother and sisters while running errands in town. Back then, he had been mocked and overlooked as he tried to preach his discoveries from a modest tent set up on the way to the pharmacy. Someone particularly unkind had flung a fistful of mud in his direction, which Jayce avoided with such grace that your eyes had lit up.
You had been so young then, perched atop a crate of peaches, listening from afar, watching him wave his hands about, utterly bewitching.
"Is this truth you are speaking? Absolutely fascinating," you had said, once you had mustered the courage to approach him and give voice to the questions grinding in your hungry mind.
"It’s all possible, Miss," he had replied with a brilliant smile. "Take a pamphlet. I am here every Thursday."
But before you could so much as tell him your name, your mother had seized you by the ear and dragged you—nearly by force—into the nearest perfumery. Huffing and sighing in disapproval, she had straightened your dress, grumbled about the mud on your shoes, and scolded you for indulging the poor man’s delusions.
Little did she know.
Five years later, Jayce Talis is one of the most sought-after and highly regarded inventors and scientists in the entire region. Yet it is not he whom your family desires—not exactly. His research and the opportunity to invest in it—now that is what truly entices them.
And standing beside Jayce is his partner, Viktor. A stray, adopted by House Talis as though he were its own son. Apparently just as brilliant, undoubtedly just as sought-after.
"A good match," your mother says with a firm tone.
"A bright future for you and your sisters," your father says, his voice tinged with sadness and apology.
Of all men, you had thought him the one who would never betray you. And you tell yourself it is only one part of you that he has betrayed. Yet it wounds you so deeply because it is the part he always claimed to love most of all.
The real part of you.
You push her aside as you tuck a loose lock back into your bun. Fill your lungs with as much air as your short stay allows—nearly not enough. Then you answer your mother’s call with a rehearsed, “I will be right there, Maman!”
One last glance in the mirror—oh, no. You forgot a smile.
So you plaster it back onto your face, let the stale air escape your chest, and run—no, walk—downstairs. And the noise is already there as they all exchange their exaggerated good afternoons—your sweet father, your benevolent mother, your silly younger sisters, Jayce and Viktor. You hear their voices, your mother chuckling politely at Jayce’s remarks about bumpy roads, Viktor’s reserved greeting with a lilt of an accent that makes your ears perk up. Pretty.
Your eyes land on Jayce first—his frame broader than you remember—and something swells within you. Not sultry, just pleased to see this once-boy now a full-grown man, taking up the space he was always meant to claim.
And next to him—oh.
Emerging from your father’s embrace is Viktor, visibly startled by the stark contrast between your official mother and your matey father, who claps him on the back, smiling with flushed cheeks. Happy, relieved, because the boy who will marry his daughter is a slender, gentle man with kind hands and bright eyes. Your father breathes deeply, granting himself absolution for sending his eldest away into the arms of a stranger.
And the man at the bottom of the staircase looks nothing like the monster you painted in your mind. His frame is lithe yet full of quiet strength, supported by a cane. His face, all sharp angles, is touched by shifting light and shadow with every expression he tries to suppress. Lips small and tender, nose a work of the most skilled sculptor, eyes the colour of your father’s favourite bourbon—and your favourite honey, the one from summer flowers. His leg is hugged by a strange contraption of a brace, and you feel a weird sense of camaraderie—both of you constricted in some way.
"Hello," you say in your rehearsed voice, though it wavers slightly at the touch of his hand on yours. Your heart stumbles between beats when his lips press to your glove, his thumb steady on your knuckles.
"I am so glad to finally have met you, Miss. I have heard so much about you," says Viktor, holding your gaze. His composure settles back into place, his eyes drilling into you. And beneath his voice, a hint—suggesting he has heard more than just that you are a sweet young lady.
"Only good things, I hope?" you ask. And truly, the hope lingers in your tone, even though you know Jayce has told him what a wild thing you are when nobody is watching.
Briefly, you wonder—what would it be like to be asked by this man to marry him, had your families not decided your fate for you? Would you say yes, tears in your eyes? Or would you smile gently and tell him a polite maybe? Would you challenge him or take him in without compromise, had you met and known him before everything was resolved for you?
"Only good things," Viktor says with a false, polite smile as he releases your hand. And the falseness of it stirs something within you—a worry, a flicker of fear.
What is this man like when no one is watching?
You have heard almost nothing—only mentions of his brilliance and good behaviour. But if they are as much half-truths as the mentions of your brilliance and good behaviour, then this arrangement could be either a blessing or a curse.
Not that it matters. If you ever wanted to be married, which you still do not. You merely accept your fate for the sake of

For the sake of your family. Of course.
The exchange of pleasantries has barely settled when the butler steps forward, his voice measured and precise. "My lord, my lady, refreshments are prepared in the drawing room."
"Ah, excellent!" Father claps Jayce’s shoulder in a display of easy camaraderie. "We have much to discuss, Mister Talis. Shall we?"
Mother inclines her head gracefully, extending a gloved hand toward the open doorway. "Come, gentlemen. We shall not let business keep us from our tea."
The procession to the drawing room is orderly, Father leading Jayce in enthusiastic conversation about the boundless opportunities ahead. "A partnership of this nature is unprecedented, of course. An investment in the future—our shared future."
Jayce responds with the confidence of a man accustomed to admiration. "Precisely, my lord. With the right support, we could revolutionise industry as we know it."
You follow with measured steps, Viktor at your side. He has not spoken since the introduction, his expression composed, though his eyes—deep, contemplative—move with interest over the fine furnishings of the room.
As everyone settles, tea is poured, the gentle clink of porcelain filling the brief lull in conversation. You accept your cup, watching as Viktor does the same, his fingers long and careful around the delicate handle. A man of precision, no doubt.
You lower yourself onto one of the chairs as a maid pours the tea, your hands folding neatly in your lap as you watch your father and Jayce fall into an easy rhythm of discussion. They speak of investments, of Hextech’s promise, of the ways in which your family’s patronage will shape the future. You hear none of it.
“You must find this arrangement rather inconvenient,” you say to Viktor, keeping your voice light as you turn toward him.
His eyes sharpen, though his smile remains polite. “How so?” His hand playing with the cane stills, long fingers extend idly toward its wooden pole.
You tilt your head. “To be bound to a wife you do not know. And for science, no less.”
Viktor exhales a quiet chuckle, setting his tea down. “Science is a noble cause, Miss. Perhaps even nobler than marriage.”
A test. You recognise it as easily as you recognise your own reflection.
"Then I suppose you have the better end of the bargain," you say, knowing it’s in fact, the exact opposite.
What Viktor doesn’t know, is that your mother has ensured the bargain benefits your family far more than it does the inventors. And looking at both of them—Jayce, hardly containing the beam on his face, and Viktor, observing everything reverently—you feel a pang of guilt, followed by a flicker of anger at the injustice.
A plan formulates in your wicked brain faster than you can blink.
Viktor’s lips press together, but amusement flickers in his gaze. “Perhaps we both do.”
Whatever he means by that, you don’t get the chance to find out. Your mother’s voice cuts through the conversation, her smile as polished as the silverware. “My dear, do spare Mister Viktor the interrogation.”
You return her smile, though yours is sharper. “I was only ensuring he is as clever as they say.”
Your mother’s eyes narrow slightly before she turns back to Viktor, seamlessly redirecting the conversation to something safer. "Dearest, I do believe Mister Talis was about to ask your thoughts on Clementi’s compositions. Such refined taste in music is most becoming."
A deliberate redirection. A warning.
You inhale, curbing the temptation to press further. "Indeed, my lady Mother." Turning to Jayce, you summon a practiced smile. "I do believe his sonatinas have their merits. Though, some find them rather—predictable."
Viktor’s gaze lingers a moment longer, unreadable. You have tested him, and he has not recoiled. A curiosity, then. A mystery yet to unfold.
You spend the rest of the afternoon refreshments chatting to Jayce about mediocre music, wondering if he is as bored as you are. He is ever the gentleman, offering the occasional enthusiastic nod or agreeable remark, though you catch the way his gaze strays toward the conversation between your Father and Viktor. You, on the other hand, attempt to suppress yawns, stuffing your face with biscuits only to receive a sharp, silent scolding from your mother—her ever-composed expression unchanging, yet her message perfectly clear in the slight arch of her brow and the subtle narrowing of her eyes.
Jayce, for his part, is far less burdened by such silent reprimands, complimenting the food with an easy charm that has even the servants standing a little straighter. "Absolutely delightful," he declares after a bite of pastry. "Your cooks must be geniuses, my lady."
Mother responds with a gracious nod, her practiced smile unwavering. "We do strive for excellence."
Meanwhile, across the room, Viktor exchanges politeness with your father, and—intriguingly—seems to warm to the conversation. While his initial responses are careful, measured, there is a spark of genuine enthusiasm as the subject shifts to research. Your father, less constipated than your mother in matters of etiquette, easily shakes off formality, allowing his hand to linger on Viktor’s shoulder longer than necessary—a gesture of camaraderie and gratitude.
As the discussion unfolds, Viktor’s composure loosens. He leans in slightly, his hands moving as he speaks, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of a man entirely lost in his own world of ideas. His voice, once restrained, now carries a lilt of passion as he explains the intricacies of Hextech and its boundless potential. You watch, fascinated, as the façade slips away—just a little—revealing something softer beneath. And how lovely he looks when he forgets himself.
Dinner proceeds without any great disturbances, save, again, for your mother’s silent rebukes whenever you take too large a bite or drink too greedily. Conversation flows between the three men, animated and full of promise—the future, progress, the shape of the world yet to come. All three desire it in their own way, though you suspect Viktor’s hunger for it is of a different nature than the others’.
And then, of course, comes your turn to be put on display. After dinner, Mother’s hand lands lightly on your wrist, her voice smooth as silk yet firm beneath the surface. "Dearest, why don’t you show our guests the depths of your talents? A sonatina, perhaps? Something refined."
Refined, meaning dull. Predictable. A test, as everything always is.
You rise, crossing the room with measured steps, already feeling Viktor’s gaze on you. He has seen something of you in conversation—but now, he will listen.
And so—you play the godforsaken Sonatina, your skin pulled tight over your face, eyes hooded, fingers moving with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner serving a sentence. Your back aches from keeping your spine stiffly straight, and despite your best efforts, your brows begin to furrow in ironic frustration. You only realise it when your mother clears her throat—pointedly, just a touch too loud.
You correct yourself immediately, smoothing your expression, though you swear you hear the ghost of a chuckle slip past Viktor’s lips. How dare he.
"How lovely," Jayce says, his smile wide and honest. You return it with one of your own—entirely dishonest—as you offer an insincere, "Thank you, Mister Talis," and bow politely. Viktor nods and swallows, and for some reason, you catch the way his throat bobs.
"Gentlemen, I believe it is time to discuss business. Let us move to the smoking room," Father announces, beaming. You can't suppress the sigh that escapes you. Soon—very soon—your night self will be free. She has been clawing at the edges of your skin for hours.
"Goodnight, my dearest girls," Father says warmly, pressing a kiss to both your forehead and your mother’s—a gesture so private, so natural, it earns him a scoff from his wife and a kiss on the cheek from his daughter.
Pleasantries are exchanged, and as soon as the men are out of sight, you bolt toward your bedroom. Your mind is already racing, gears grinding. Your feet slip from your heels, and you clasp them in your hands as you take the stairs two at a time. Every step sheds another layer of constriction—the short stay, the chemise, the pins biting into your scalp, the suffocating weight of your skirts. Off, off, off. The blush, the powder, the pretence. Her watch has ended for today.
You shake your hair loose from its updo before you even reach your door, already calling for your maid the moment you step inside, clawing at the laces of your gown in desperation.
“Miss, why the dramatics?” she teases, catching up with you in the corridor.
“Peggy don’t test me. I can’t breathe,” you whine, slumping onto your vanity chair, hands pressing against your ribs to emphasize the urgency. “I am convinced that in hell, everyone wears a short stay.”
Peggy chuckles but says nothing more as her fingers work deftly at the laces, loosening them with a care that speaks of years spent tending to you. You feel the tension ease, your ribs finally expanding without resistance.
“Well?” she prompts, her voice light but expectant. “How was the evening?”
You hesitate. The words sit heavy on your tongue, as though speaking them aloud would solidify them, make them real. And you are not quite ready for that. Instead, you exhale slowly, composing yourself before replying, “He is
 nice.” That is all you can manage.
Peggy hums knowingly. “From what I managed to spy, he’s also rather handsome.”
You scoff, turning your head away. “Is that all that matters?”
“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” she says with a grin, but she does not press further.
At last, the constriction gives way, and you take an exaggerated breath, filling your lungs like a drowning woman reaching the surface. Then, without ceremony, you slide off the chair and sprawl flat on the floor, half-dressed, limbs flung out like a marionette with its strings cut.
Peggy, unfazed, picks up your nightgown and drapes it over you as though covering a corpse. “God, grant rest upon my poor mistress’s soul and let her eternity be free of the constriction of breast support,” she intones in mock solemnity.
Laughter bubbles up from your chest, unrestrained and real. You lift an arm weakly and wave it in her general direction. “Saint Peggy, patron of weary ladies, I thank you.”
She curtsies dramatically. “As ever, at your service. Call on me if you need anything.”
“I expect I shall sleep like a log.”
“Good. You’ve earned it, I think.” With that, she takes her leave, pulling the door shut behind her.
Silence settles over the room, thick and absolute. You are alone.
For the first time since the day began, the weight of it all presses down on you. The evening, the introductions, the expectations—your mother’s sharp gaze, your father’s quiet resignation, the way Viktor’s eyes had searched yours with something unreadable. It is real now. You are betrothed.
You swallow. A part of you wants to dwell on it, to trace every moment back and find meaning in the way Viktor’s lips had pressed to your glove, or how he had looked when he spoke of his work, his façade slipping just enough to let something genuine through. But you stop yourself before you go too far.
No. There is still one more thing to do tonight.
You push yourself up from the floor, shaking away the thoughts. The night is not over yet.
Barefoot and silent, you slip from your chambers, the corridor dimly lit by the soft glow of sconces. The house is quiet, the faint crackle of a dying hearth the only sound accompanying your careful steps. You know this path well—the precise places to avoid so the floorboards won’t betray you, the door handle that needs an extra nudge before it turns smoothly.
Inside, your father’s study smells of ink, aged paper, and a lingering trace of cigar smoke. The large mahogany desk dominates the space, neat and orderly, save for the glass of brandy he left half-finished. You move swiftly, rifling through the stack of documents until you find it—your contract, tucked within a leather folder. The paper is thick beneath your fingers, the ink crisp and unwavering in its certainty.
You sit at his desk, candle alit, quill and ink poised above parchment. The contract lies before you, its neat, formal script a reminder of how little say you had in its creation. Pushed through by your father but shaped by your mother’s precise demands, it is, at its core, a transaction. A business arrangement designed to favour your family above all else.
Your eyes skim over the terms, and irritation prickles beneath your skin. The imbalance is glaring. The investment into Hextech is substantial, but in return, the Talises and your future husband receive only what your mother deems “reasonable compensation.” No direct ownership, no authority over the funds. Your family retains the power, and Viktor and Jayce are little more than beneficiaries at your parents’ discretion. A gilded leash.
You press your lips together. No. This will not do.
Dipping your quill into the ink, you begin to amend.
First, the finances—your father’s control over the investment is reduced. Instead of an allowance doled out at his leisure, the funds will be released in agreed-upon increments, ensuring neither Jayce nor Viktor are forced to beg for what is already promised to them. They will have the freedom to allocate resources as needed, without interference from your family.
Next, ownership. The contract had positioned your father as a silent but permanent stakeholder, yet he has no knowledge of Hextech, no hand in its creation. You strike that out, altering it so that once their research yields results, patents and profits remain in the hands of their rightful creators. Your family will receive a generous return, but not at the expense of their autonomy.
Then, Viktor himself. The terms outlining your marriage are, predictably, cold. Your mother’s hand is evident in every word. You are to be an asset to your husband, a guiding influence, ensuring that he remains focused and socially presentable. It is not about companionship—it is about control.
You set your quill down, flexing your fingers before taking it up again. You cannot undo the engagement, but you can redefine it. The clauses regarding expectations of your role are softened, turned into vague suggestions rather than obligations. Where once it stated that your husband must be “encouraged” to attend events and maintain appearances, you adjust it to read that he may do so at his discretion. No doubt your mother will notice this change, but you will cross that bridge when you must.
By the time you finish, the candle has burned low. You lean back, studying your work. The contract remains an arrangement, a tether you cannot sever, but at least now, it is fairer. A step closer to something tolerable.
You blot the ink, letting the parchment dry. The night stretches on, silent save for the scratching of your quill as you forge your own small rebellion in ink.
Once you deem it ready, you sneak back out, guiding your footsteps toward the guest bedrooms. An unthinkable mĂ©salliance, your mother would say, but you feel that both Jayce and Viktor should be made aware—if your plan is to work. You step carefully, your bare feet growing dirty from crossing the house without slippers.
Muffled conversation filters through the door your mother assigned to Jayce. His voice is slightly raised, Viktor’s quieter, edged with irony. They are discussing the evening.
One proper breath, and then a knock on the door.
The hum of conversation ceases instantly as heavy footsteps approach. The door cracks open, and Jayce’s eyes widen—because there you stand, in nothing but your nightdress and a loose cape that does little to conceal your state of undress.
His mouth falls open, and only a small, startled sound escapes his lips.
“Let me in!” you whisper sharply, glancing down the corridor with nervous urgency.
“Oh, Miss, forgive me, but this
 is very inappropriate,” Jayce says weakly, though he makes no move to stop you as you push past him and step into the room.
The air is thick with the remnants of their earlier conversation, the scent of brandy lingering. Viktor sits slouched in an armchair, one elbow propped on the armrest, fingers pressed against his temple as if warding off a headache. He watches you, silent, unreadable.
Jayce, on the other hand, is all frantic gestures and hushed protests. “You must go back to your room. If anyone—God, if your mother—” He exhales sharply, rubbing his jaw. “This is madness.”
You cross your arms, standing your ground. “Fuck the polite society, Jayce. Do you want to be a slave to my mother, or will you read what I brought you?”
At that, Viktor’s lips quirk—barely. “Quite a mouth you have there, Miss.” His voice is smooth, carrying none of Jayce’s flustered panic. He rises from his chair, extending a hand.
It’s only then that you truly take him in. His shirt is undone at the neck, the cravat abandoned somewhere, his hair tousled prettily as if he’s raked his fingers through it too many times. A flush warms his cheeks—alcohol, no doubt, courtesy of your father.
You hesitate for a fraction of a second before placing the document in his outstretched hand. Your fingers brush, and you retreat too quickly, as if the touch burned.
Silence. Viktor’s eyes flick across the page, reading with quiet intensity. Jayce, peeking over his shoulder, mutters under his breath, “Oh, my.”
Viktor lets out a quiet scoff, the amusement avoiding his eyes. “And to what do we owe this mercy of yours, pray tell?” His gaze lingers on the last lines of your text, his tone devoid of the warmth he carried earlier. Now, it is sharp, cold, measured—kindness stripped away as if it had only ever been a mask to wear in polite company. He swallows and lifts his eyes to you, utterly unamused, borderline bored. “I loathe charity.”
Heat rises to your cheeks before you can stop it, a tangled mess of emotions forming beneath your ribs, but anger is among them. You exhale sharply, crossing your arms over your chest, suddenly very aware of how exposed you are. “And I loathe injustice and trickery. This—” you gesture vaguely at the parchment. “Is fair. If I am to be sold to a man I do not know, let it be on terms that are humanely acceptable.”
“How kind,” he says, smiling—mocking. “And how do you expect us to accept this? Who do you think is stupid, me and Mister Talis or your own father?” He steps closer, ignoring the way Jayce’s hand presses against his shoulder as if to restrain him. His weight wavers without a cane, and for a moment, you think he might have to steady himself on you.
“My father is not an unkind man. He simply loves my mother too much for his own good. My mother
” You tilt your head, letting the words settle between you. “Well, she’s a woman.”
The corner of Viktor’s mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. “Charming.”
“But my father will not read this upon signing, of that I am certain. We will be long bound before anyone notices.”
Viktor exhales, a sound of something between disbelief and amusement. “And who are you doing this for, my merciful Lady?” His voice shifts, the sharpness still there, but beneath it—a spark of something else. The same fervour he held when speaking of his machines, now laced with something darker.
“Myself, my Lord.” You meet his gaze without hesitation. “You just happen to be a casualty of my mercy.”
And something stirs in your chest—a swelling, an exhilaration. The night version of you, the real you, speaking bluntly to the man who is to be your husband. And he does not recoil. He accepts the challenge. Infuriatingly so, but beneath your irritation, something sparks under your skin that you cannot chase away. Excitement.
Viktor blinks, slowly. Then, he turns to Jayce, whose face has gone chalk white during your exchange. “What do you think of this?”
Jayce swallows hard. “What if he notices? Your father, that is,” he asks wearily, clearly tempted by your terms yet frightened of what it might cost your families' alliance.
“He won’t. And if, by some unholy joke, he does—I will take the blame. Tonight never happened,” you state firmly, bravely. You do not let your voice betray the truth: that you have no idea what you would do if your mother ever found out. She would probably cut your hair and throw you in a convent.
They both nod, and you allow yourself a breath. Then, Viktor extends his hand for a handshake.
You stare at it briefly before accepting—his palm is calloused, warm. Bigger than yours, his fingers so long they nearly brush your wrist. His grip is firm, unwavering.
For the briefest moment, his gaze flickers downward—to your chest. It’s so quick you might have missed it. But you didn’t. And neither did he miss the way heat rushes to your cheeks.
His eyes meet yours again, glinting with an unreadable taunt. “I think it’s best you return to your chambers, my Lady,” he says at last. To that, you can only nod.
You slip back into your father’s office under the cover of darkness, placing the altered contract precisely where it needs to be—where it will be signed without a second glance. Then, just as carefully, you retreat to your chambers, slipping past every creaking floorboard with the expertise of someone who has done this many times before.
Once inside, you bolt the door, shrugging off your cape before sinking onto the mattress. The night version of you refuses to rest. She tosses and turns, replaying every moment of the evening—the music, the dinner, the conversation, the challenge in Viktor’s eyes, the brush of his fingers against yours.
And yet, despite all of it, he is still a stranger.
Morning invades you with harsh light pouring through the abruptly opened curtains and Peggy’s voice urging you to get up.
“Miss? You’ve overslept! Up! Up!” she whisper shouts, pulling the covers down from the bed.
You groan and press your palms to your eyes, curling up into a bean. “Peggy, have mercy, I beg of you.”
“Sorry, Miss, no mercy today. Our guests are leaving soon, and you can’t miss breakfast, not today,” Peggy says with a kind smile that disarms you. You roll out of your bed, feet dragging across the floor before you slump down in front of the vanity. You watch as Peggy chases away the night self, pins your hair up, wipes the night drool of your face to make you at least vaguely presentable. She’s merciful with the short stay though­—picks a looser one, from the time before you lost your baby fat.
Your heels clack on the staircase and you can already hear voices coming from downstairs. As you approach the drawing room, a glimpse of the scene within stops you in your tracks. Lurking in the doorframe, you watch as Jayce and Viktor hunch over a parchment, feigning deep concentration as they pretend to read it thoroughly before signing. They do so, exchanging pats on the shoulder—conspirators sealing a silent agreement.
Then, it is your father’s turn. He catches sight of you lingering in the doorway and flashes you a warm smile. “Good morning, love.”
His eyes drop back to the document. He gives it one last cursory sweep, his quill hovering just above the space left to sign.
You hold your breath.
And he... hesitates. A small hmm escapes him. His brows knit together in fleeting consideration, and then—oh.
He looks straight at you.
Heat flares in your cheeks, but you do not waver. You hold his gaze, steady, unflinching. And for whatever reason—be it the bond of blood or simply the fact that he has known you all your life—his expression softens. A knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips.
And oh.
He signs.
You exhale, breathless, weightless. Laughter erupts between them—hugs, handshakes, pats on the back. Jayce beams, his happiness unguarded. Viktor wears a smile that, for once, looks almost honest. Your father looks content.
It is signed. Done. Sealed.
Your father steps forward and pulls you into a firm embrace. “You’ve done well. I’m proud of you,” he murmurs against your hair. Then, in a quieter, amused tone, he adds, “Now, let us pray your mother doesn’t notice until the wedding.” He chuckles softly.
Oh. Right. You are getting married.
***
A few days have passed since the contract was signed, and to your relief, your mother has not noticed the adjustments you made. She remains blissfully consumed by wedding preparations, entirely unaware that the original terms—so starkly in favour of your family—have been tempered to grant House Talis a fairer standing.
However, your father called you to his study, his expression unreadable as he regarded you across his desk. His words were firm, yet not unkind. He did not scold, nor did he praise, only ensured you understood the weight of your actions.
"You have done them a service," he admitted at last, after a measured silence. "One I hope they will not forget." And though he said nothing further, though his approval was never voiced, something in his tone—something almost like respect—settled in your chest, easing the uncertainty that had lingered since you first put pen to paper.
Now, with a storm in your mind, your fingers fly over the keys, the sharp, cascading notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata (Presto Agitato) filling the room with thunderous urgency. It drowns out everything—the ticking of the clock, the creak of the floorboards, even the faint rustle of the curtains shifting in the afternoon breeze.
You have not thought about it until now. Not truly. Not beyond the abstraction of ink on parchment and the murmured discussions over tea and candlelight. But now, with only days left before you are no longer just yourself but someone’s wife, it hits you. A shift. A point of no return.
How strange, to know that the house you grew up in, the one you have played in, dreamt in, stormed through in childhood fits of temper, will no longer be yours. That soon, your place at this very piano, in this very room, will be an absence rather than a presence. The thought unsettles you.
So you play harder. Louder. Until the force of it rings in your chest, keeping you from thinking too much. You curl forward, biting your lip absentmindedly, your face twisted with emotion, your torso nearly hovering over the keys like a hunchback.
You do not hear the front door open, nor the sound of measured footsteps in the hall. You do not see the maid, Peggy, curtsy as she leads your visitor inside. You do not even notice when she hesitates, turning to announce him—because before she can, a voice stops her.
"It’s alright, Peggy. Please, allow me."
It is a quiet request, yet it holds the weight of something decisive. Viktor stands in the doorway, smiles for Peggy, but his eyes are fixed on you, considering. The way your body moves with the music, the tension in your shoulders, the way you lose yourself in the notes.
Peggy looks up at him, blinking in momentary surprise, before a small, approving smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. He is not appalled. Not by the passion, the volume, the unladylike ferocity with which you play. And that, she thinks, is a good sign.
So she gives him a knowing look, inclines her head, and quietly slips away—leaving him alone to watch you. And you, still unaware of his presence, continue to play.
He spies your reflection in the window—your face shifting from one expression to another with each rise and fall of the music. Your brows knit in concentration, your eyes clamp shut with feeling, your mouth parts slightly, forming an unconscious little o. Strands of hair have slipped free from their updo, framing your cheeks in wild disarray.
Viktor inches closer, careful to avoid the floorboards that might creak beneath his step. He drinks in the scene—the unguarded display, the sheer abandon with which you play. A thought takes root. Perhaps this arrangement will not be the terrible imprisonment he once feared. Surely, you—with your tempestuous fingers and flagrant disregard for propriety—will agree that freedom is the highest privilege, worth protecting above all else.
He tells himself the feeling in his chest is not admiration but hope. Hope that the two of you might reach an understanding, one that will allow you both to remain unshackled even within the binds of matrimony. He tells himself that your parted mouth is merely amusing, nothing more.
The piece crashes to an end, and with a frustrated groan, you collapse forward, resting your forehead and elbows on the keyboard. A discordant wail echoes through the room. Viktor chuckles and finally breaks the silence.
"Are you not happy with your play, Miss?"
You jolt upright with a sharp gasp, spinning around so quickly that you nearly stumble in your haste to stand.
"Dear God, my Lord!"
You attempt a curtsy, but the motion is so hurried and clumsy that you almost topple over. Viktor steps forward instinctively, his hands finding your forearms to steady you, cane clattering to the floor. His grip is light, his touch like a feather, amusement flickering in his gaze.
"Forgive me, I did not mean to startle," he murmurs, breath quickening despite himself at the warmth and tension in your arms. He holds you wondering whether his fingertips would meet had he closed them around you. The thought gets chased away as soon as it enters his mind.
You swallow hard, your heart still racing from the shock. The room suddenly feels much smaller, the space between you too charged. You are keenly aware of your appearance—loosened hair, flushed cheeks, a dress slightly rumpled from sitting too long at the piano. You feel exposed. He does not seem to mind, still holding your elbows.
"I do not know as much about music as Jayce," Viktor continues, tilting his head slightly, "but this sounded rather
 challenging, no?"
"I’m so sorry—you weren’t meant to hear this," you blurt out, lowering your gaze.
"I enjoyed it thoroughly," he replies without hesitation. "It’s rather different to what I heard last time."
Your fingers twitch on his arms. Different was one way to put it.
"Oh, it’s quite different," you admit. Then, lowering your voice, "Also, quite forbidden. Please don’t tell my mother—she will burn my sheet music and make me play that measly Clementi until my fingers bleed."
Viktor smirks, his fingers wrapping just a notch tighter around your arms. "I shall keep your secret, Miss. What’s another one shared between betrothed? I imagine there will be more."
For the briefest moment, you wonder if he is flirting. Your pulse quickens at the notion, but you quickly clear your throat and step back, disentangling yourself from his grasp. You smooth your skirts, willing the heat in your cheeks to fade.
"What brings you here, if you don’t mind my asking?"
He leans to pick up the cane and you wonder momentarily if you should help, before he says, "Oh, I was announced to call upon you today. Have you forgotten?"
You press your lips together, mortified. "Forgive me. It completely slipped my mind—I got lost in thought."
Viktor hums, nodding in understanding. "That’s quite alright. I think I am familiar with the feeling." Then, arching a brow, "Also, why are we whispering?"
Your shoulders stiffen. "Because if my benevolent mother finds us here without a chaperone, hell will open its mouth and swallow me whole."
Viktor huffs a quiet laugh, unbothered. "I was told your mother went to town with your sisters, Miss. No need to fret. Or whisper, as much as I like the sound of it."
His voice is steady, indifferent to the scandalous implication of being alone together. You, however, remain acutely aware of it, your hands smoothing over your skirts once more as if to will yourself into some semblance of propriety. So odd to meet another who cares not about the binding of the rules made up by God knows who. Absolutely peculiar to be the one who leans toward the constriction on instinct, being presented with someone who doesn’t obey. The night self has cackled within you ludicrously.
“What is the reason for your calling, then?” you ask, forcing your voice to remain steady.
“I was told by Jayce’s sweet mother that such is a custom between courting couples,” Viktor replies, his tone unreadable.
Courting. Couple. Be still, your stupid heart. You press your lips together before speaking. “I thought I was considered to be courted by now.”
Viktor tilts his head slightly, watching you as though deciphering a puzzle. “If you do not wish me to visit, do tell. I don’t mean to impose upon you, Miss.”
“Oh no, my Lord, forgive my bluntness,” you say quickly, feeling a warmth creep up your neck. “I am merely not sure if I am able to entertain you in the way you desire.”
Something shifts in Viktor’s expression—his gaze darkens slightly, and his fingers twitch at his cane before he hesitates, swallowing as if choosing his words carefully. “I meant to invite you for a stroll later this week,” he says at last, voice softer, but still carrying that enigmatic lilt. “Apparently, it is good were we to be seen in public together. I thought we could kill two birds with one stone and have an unsupervised conversation while being regarded.”
There’s something about the way he says it—an almost playful contradiction in the idea of a private moment under the scrutiny of others—that makes you pause. He is studying you again, and though you should feel wary, you find yourself intrigued instead.
“Well, I would lie if I said you didn’t grasp my attention. I shall indulge you, my Lord,” you say after taking a long inhale, steadying yourself. The moment of unguarded reaction is gone—you slip back into the polished version of yourself, the one who knows how to navigate these waters. Calm, composed, hands resting gently on your abdomen, back straight, chin held high.
Viktor only smiles, his eyes flickering with something unreadable before he inclines his head. “I am no Lord, just a man. Please, call me Viktor.”
Your fingers twitch where they rest. He is dismantling barriers you had placed with such ease it’s infuriating. “I will be there, Viktor.” The name feels unfamiliar yet strangely natural on your tongue.
In response, he whispers your name softly, like a secret meant only for him to know. A shiver curls up your spine, and before you can stop yourself, your arms move—grasping at your elbows in a defensive clutch. The instinct to shield yourself is immediate, but you smother it, replacing it with a placid smile. If Viktor notices, he does not call attention to it, though something in his gaze flickers. He looks as though he is about to say something, but then he hesitates. Withdraws.
For a moment, you simply stare at each other, the air thick with something unspoken. It feels strange—utterly so. As if you are being assessed, studied with a precision that leaves you feeling exposed. And the duel is not fair. He has some sort of weapon, some unseen advantage, while you stand bare, vulnerable. Like a deer in the forest, ears pricked, waiting for the shot to ring out.
“I shan’t disturb you further,” he finally says, turning toward the door. “I will send a note as to when and where we will meet.”
On cue, the door creaks, and Peggy peeks through the crack.
“Miss, the Lady will be back soon. Shall I make some tea for you and your caller?”
You exhale sharply, regaining your bearings. “Mister Viktor is leaving, but thank you. We should, probably—” You catch yourself before you say too much, before you admit that you need to look as though you have been dutifully engaged in proper, ladylike pastimes rather than playing scandalous music behind closed doors. You glance at Peggy, willing her to understand.
She does. “Of course, Miss! I will be with you in a few moments.”
The door clicks shut behind Viktor.
You release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, pressing a hand against your ribs as though it could steady the frantic beat of your heart.
Save for your father, this was the first time you had been alone in a room with a man. The realisation settles over you like a weight, and the two halves of yourself clash within your chest.
The day you—the dutiful daughter—cannot help but acknowledge the impropriety of it all. She knows what is expected, what lines should not be crossed. And yet
 she hesitates. Because the unease doesn’t stem solely from being alone with a man. It stems from being alone with Viktor, a man whose manners slip free of societal constraints the moment he is given the chance.
The night you, however, does not hesitate. She roars in satisfaction. This was thrilling. The push and pull of conversation, the glances, the knowing looks. And to do so while basking in daylight, without shadows to obscure the truth of it?
Intoxicating.
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contamination-zone · 2 days ago
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Guide to my fucked up self indulgent Fresh au[s]. thing. that "Nightmare's ideal scenario" thing, but with more surrounding it [Color], + an older au thing I had earlier.
Individual zooms under cut + extra
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These all have their own individual tags [what I put at the top there], but I might collapse [Captivity AU: Nightmare's Castle] and [Captivity AU: Nightmare's Castle; good end] cus I thought I'd have more thoughts on Nightmare keeping Fresh as a pet, but welll. it is just boring if Fresh has no power to be annoying back haha.
And Captivity AU is still its own thing separate from all this too. Because I like Fizz's terrible situationship with the experiment and I still have the idea of Fresh escaping to go be happy with CB's family. So that means.. the other two [or one] are just offshoots of this one :-]
The concept I've been throwing around for how Fresh wouldn't starve while with Color + also making it so Color wouldn't have to compromise his morals to feed Fresh is just that Fresh can get most of his daily magic by hanging around Color, who dispels so much magicical soul stuff that Fresh could just... persist. but that feels too hand-wavy and self-indulgent haha.
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rafesdespair · 3 days ago
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taking the edge off
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Ś‚╰┈➀ rafe shows up to your house on the verge of a panic attack. you do your best to calm him down, but he has his own ideas of what could help his mind go blank. [wc: 2.5k]
tags; smut, edging, slight choking, very mild manipulation, technically dubcon kissing but overall the entire deed is very consensual! there are no pronouns or gendered language used towards the reader so this is entirely gender-neutral. [18+] only ★ [read this on ao3!]
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Rafe showed up to your house pacing, hands running through his hair anxiously as he muttered expletives. You were sitting on your porch when he showed up speeding in on his bike. He threw his helmet to the ground and walked right by you and through your front door. He was already in the living room when you followed, practically panting while he walked back and forth.
He wasn’t the type to show up like this. You were hardly friends; you’d seen each other at bonfires or at the occasional party, but mostly at Barry’s. You weren’t involved in the drug scene, but you and Barry had been friends for years. Whenever you saw Rafe, he was either fucked up, erratic, or in a frat-boy-party mood. But the Rafe in front of you then was different. 
When he sat on the couch, you took the chance to finally ask what the hell was going on.
Rafe pushed his head into the heels of his hands and inhaled a stuttered breath. “I fucked up bad, like, real fucking bad. I’m so fucked, dude. I’m fucked.”
You furrowed your brows together. “Okay
 I mean, how bad? Like, jail bad? Am I harboring a fugitive right now?” you tried to joke lightheartedly, but it fell flat. 
“I need-” he swallowed and wiped his hands down his face. “I need
 fuck. I don't know. Something. What do you have?” He stood up now, looking around.
“Rafe,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “I don't do any of that
 Why didn't you go to Barry's? Why are you here? What did you do?”
His face twisted into something angry and he tensed his hands at his side. He took a deep breath and visibly held back the urge to yell or break something.
“Barry wasn't there. I thought he might be here, but-” he threw his hands up, exasperated. He sat on the couch again and tears brimmed in his eyes. “Shit, man.”
You didn't know what to do. You've never seen this side of Rafe; you didn't even know he had a side like this. You knew him as someone detached, maybe a bit cold hearted– someone entirely different than the person sitting before you now. 
You, somewhat cautiously, sat next to him on the couch and put your hand on his knee. “Rafe, just breathe. You need to tell me what happened. Maybe I.. I don't know, maybe I can help.” The fact that he hadn’t told you what brought him to this state to begin with had started to worry you.
He tensed and untensed his fingers multiple times until he spoke. “It’s better if you don't know. Don't get involved in my shit. Just
 Give me a minute.”
“Don't get involved in your shit? Rafe, you showed up to my house halfway to a breakdown- literally almost broke down my door. You involved me in your shit. Give me something to work with.” You didn't want him to leave in this state. He was already a reckless driver and you were sure he was far too out of it to get on his bike. 
He shoved your hand off of him and gritted his teeth. “I did some shit I can't come back from. Not just light jail time, this is serious life sentence shit I'm in. Prison type shit.” His voice cracked at the end of his sentence and he shook his head. “It’s over.”
You opened your mouth and closed it again, unsure of what to say. You doubted he would tell you any more, and honestly, knowing any more might’ve made you an accomplice. You shoved all questions out of the forefront of your mind and focused on the current situation. 
“Rafe,” you started. He looked up at you, eyes glassy and eyelashes clumped together. “Just breathe. Take a moment to relax. Think. Make a plan. You can't do anything if you're high out of your mind or spiraling. You need to reset.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, unconvinced. “I can't. I can't stop thinking. I feel like I'm losing my fucking mind. Everything in my head,” he tapped aggressively at his temples, “it's all a fucking mess.”
You grabbed his wrists in your hands and locked eyes with him. “Breathe. Take some deep breaths with me.” You loosened your hold and inhaled long through your nose, waiting for him to follow. 
His eyes searched your face for a moment before he surged forwards, crashing your lips together. He held your head still between his hands, preventing you from quickly pulling away. Your eyes widened and you pushed at his shoulders, but he didn't pull back. He kissed you harder, one hand moving down to cup your jaw. 
You took that opportunity to shove him and lean out of his embrace and stand up. “What the fuck are you doing, Rafe?” Your heart was racing and you were entirely tense. 
“You told me I need to relax,” he said, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “This helps me relax. No drugs.” He puts a hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you closer until you stumble onto him.
You lean back and sit closer to his knees than in his lap. “This isn't what I meant!” His hands traveled up your thighs and rested there.
“Please,” he sighed out. “I need this. My life’s falling apart. I- I can't even think straight. I'm probably going to jail. Just,” he paused, “give me this.” His eyes are big and pleading. His hands moved up to your waist, squeezing gently. “You need to help me.” His hips slightly arched off of the couch, emphasizing his desperation.
You'd be lying if you tried to avoid the way your body is reacting to this– the way your skin was heating up and desire was working through your veins. You let yourself slip closer to him, but shook your head. “This won't make you feel better. It won't change anything, Rafe.”
He held you tighter, maybe leaving a bruise. “I don't care.” One of his hands moved between your legs. “I don't think you do either. I think you want this.”
You closed your eyes for a moment and huffed out a laugh. “What is happening right now, Rafe? What do you want?”
“To make my mind go completely fucking blank.” He fully pulled you into his lap now where you could feel him pressed against you. “Will you do that for me?”
“You're fucked in the head,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. His grin in response made you bite your lip. Maybe you were just as fucked.
You leaned in and kissed him with an open mouth. You started gentle, but he grabbed the back of your neck and slid it into your hair, taking a handful to control your head. He bit and tugged at your lower lip before licking into your mouth. Your ‘mmph’ of surprise encouraged him further.
Pulling back was difficult with his hand holding you and your own want telling you to stay like this, but you did. His lips chased yours, trying to reconnect the kiss. 
Before he could protest, you ran your thumb over his lower lip. “If we're really doing this, we're doing it my way. You're letting me take care of you.”
“Oh, I am?” he replied, smirking while taking your thumb between his teeth. You slipped it into his mouth and pressed it down on his tongue. 
“You are.” You slid your thumb out of his mouth, swiping it over his bottom lip before moving down to unbuckle his pants. “Just lean back.”
He settled his hands on your thighs again and leaned into the cushions, watching your movements with amusement. You were taking your time unzipping his jeans, stopping to palm at him and run your fingertips down his bulge. 
You slipped your hand beneath his waistband and held him loosely, moving your hand tauntingly slow. He bucked his hips a bit to encourage you, but you only used your other hand to push him back down. 
You took him out of his pants and take a moment to just admire, which seemed to amuse him. His cock was pretty. The tip was a blush pink that matched his lips and the color that tinted his cheekbones. You ran your fingertip from base to tip, smearing the bit of precum that had gathered. The sensitivity made his cock twitch.
You spit in your palm and watched the way his pupils dilate, his teeth biting down on his lower lip. Motivated, you wrapped your fingers around him and started jerking him off. You started , watching his expressions and seeing what he responded to the best. When you twisted your hand around the head, he gave a quiet mph. 
“I wanna hear you moan,” you said before leaning forward and letting spit drip from your mouth and onto his cock. You moved your hand faster, following the way his breathing picked up.
Rafe gave a proud smirk and said, “make it good then.”
Keeping up pace, you leaned forward to kiss at his jaw. They were gentle and almost teasing until you moved down to his neck. You left open mouthed kisses everywhere and could feel his pulse increase while you sucked bruises into his skin. You loved watching marks slowly decorate him from his collarbone to his jaw.
You kissed your way back up to his lips and spoke against them. “Am I doing good?” you whispered, quickening your speed.
He placed a hand around your neck, applying a pleasing pressure. “Mm, you could do better.” The warmth that spread up through your head made your eyes flutter with a soft whimper playing from your lips.
You doubled your efforts, focusing one hand on massaging his balls and the other working him top to bottom. The two of you held each other's gaze as his breath stuttered, pupils eclipsing the blue of his eyes. He thrusted his hips lightly, nose scrunching in pleasure.
You slowed down then, keeping one hand steadily stroking him and took the other to cradle his jaw while you kissed him. He sighed and licked into your mouth with a needy groan. You let him deepen the kiss and let out another mewl when he squeezed your throat again. 
His head fell back against the couch when you tightened your grip around him, followed by a breathy, “fuck.” Absentmindedly, you rolled your hips against nothing, your body seeking some kind of friction. Rafe almost laughed as he sat himself up a bit.
“Y’want me?” Rafe asked with amusement lacing his voice. “Want my dick, baby?”
Your cheeks flushed as you chewed the inside of your cheeks, shaking your head. “This isn't about me.” You thumbed at the underside of his tip, ignoring the pulsing between your legs. “I'll let you pay me back later.”
You spit on his cock again, putting an end to the retort about to slip from his mouth. Instead, he let out a sigh mixed with a moan before biting his lower lip again. He watched your hand move up and down, his breath unsteady with every exhale. You could tell he was getting closer with every stroke. His chest rose and fell faster and his hips stuttered beneath you.
Then, you took your hand away.
Rafe whined, which caught you by surprise. He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist hard enough to bruise and scowled. “The fuck?” His voice was hoarse and confusion bordered with frustration was etched on his face. “Why’d y'stop?” 
Your wrist throbbed but his strength and desperation turned you on more. “It'll feel better if you wait,” you said while running your hands up and down his stomach. “I told you I'd take care of you,” you leaned forward to kiss below his ear, “so let me.”
“Why're you fuckin’ around?” He dropped your wrist and squeezed at your hips instead. “S'posed to be helpin’ me.” He tilted his head over, giving you more access to kissing his neck. 
Speaking in between kisses, you said, “I am helping. You feel good, don’t you?” When Rafe mumbles out a weak mhm, you stroke him faster. “I’ll let you come soon, just hold on a little longer.” You palmed his balls and added, “you think you can do that for me?” He nodded hungrily.
You were watching him lose control by the second. You knew the Rafe that everyone else knew: hot-headed, combative, cold. But this version of Rafe was entirely different. He was loose under your hands and unraveling more and more. His eyes were hardly open anymore, brain completely fuzzy.
He reacted the most whenever you would take your hand away when he would get to close to coming. You’d work him up, then go slower until the rush subsided. You’d get him there again, then let go entirely. You felt almost cruel as he practically clawed at your thigh, silently begging for more stimulation.
When it was clear that there wasn't a single thought in his head that didn't revolve around his pleasure, you knew it was time to give in. Precum slicked up each movement, filling the room with a sound that seemed to make him want more and more. You worked one hand steadily up and down while the other took care of his balls. You matched your movements to what made his breath hitch— what made him twitch, shudder, and whimper for more. 
You kept eye contact with him, or as much as he was able to, as he reached his peak. His lips were glistening with spit, parted and panting. His eyebrows were furrowing and his whines and grunts were full on moans. His nails left darker trails in their wake along your skin; you couldn’t wait to see all the marks he had left on you. The finger shaped bruises on your wrist, hips, and neck excited you more than anything else. You knew you’d be pressing on them for days, reliving this.
”Oh fuck,” Rafe hissed and thrusted into your hand. “Gonna come, gonna come, fuck, please.” His clutch on one side of your hips was so tight that it ached, and it only got tighter as he got closer to his climax. His entire body was tensing up alongside a long moan that reverberated through the room, broken only with gasps of air. His cheeks were flushed darker than you’d ever seen them and sweat along his hairline left his hair stuck to his forehead. He looked wholly fucked out and satiated.
Ropes of cum pooled on his stomach and up to his chest. It was more than you’d ever seen before. He finally let all his muscles relax with a splintered sigh and sunk into the couch. “The fuck did you just do t’me?” His voice was debilitated and rough.
“Fulfilled my promise.” His blue eyes were glazed over with a fading lust and relief. His pupils were still dilated, though not as much as before. He was all soft around the edges now.
After basking in the aftermath of his pleasure, you traced a finger through the mess on his stomach and sucked it into your mouth. “All this from a hand job?” you teased.
He weakly shoved at your shoulder with a groan. “Mm, fuck off.”
108 notes · View notes
winwintea · 15 hours ago
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HOLY FUCK.
i don’t even know where to begin. 1,000 notes. 1,000 notes???? i’m sitting here staring at that number on my laptop, jaw wide open, and it still doesn’t feel real. but it’s real. you all did this for me. and i am so, so overwhelmed with gratitude. it may not be a huge number for some, but for me this is such a big deal.
when i first started writing this fanfic, it was just a little idea that popped into my head. i had rewatched past lives, and my brain was practically begging me to write something. i never, ever imagined it would resonate with so many people. to be honest, i never thought i’d even reach 500 notes, let alone 1,000. this is beyond anything i could have ever dreamed of.
my most popular fic prior to inyun was secure that card. i still look all those notes and smile. although i had to give her up, i was also just happy so many people were interested in reading stc. so here's a special thanks to those who stayed post-stc takedown. i owe all of you so much for helping me stay motivated to write and produce more stories.
i’ve always been a reader first. i’ve spent countless hours immersed in other people’s stories, marveling at their creativity, their ability to make me feel so deeply through their words. honestly i don't even care right now i'm just going to mention them straight out. @lqfiles @hazyhae and @polarisjisung, thank you so so so much for being the inspiration for me in starting this blog. your works touched the hearts of many, including my own.
i never thought i could be someone who could do that for others. writing was always this distant, intimidating thing that “real writers” did. but one day, on a whim, thanks to the encouragement of @aquaphoenixz and @lyvhie, i decided to try. i thought, why not? and now, here we are. it’s surreal.
the fact that so many people have taken the time to read, like, reblog, and comment on my work
 it’s humbling. it’s incredible. every notification, every kind word, every little interaction (i do in fact stalk my followers from time to time <33 love u all) it means the world to me. to know that something i created in my spare time, just for the joy of it, has brought even a fraction of happiness or excitement to someone else
 that’s the most amazing feeling in the world. writing can be such a solitary thing, but seeing your responses makes me feel like i'm part of a community, like i’m sharing something special with all of you. <33
i want to thank each and every one of you who took the time to engage with my story. whether you left a comment, reblogged with tags that made me laugh, or just silently hit the like button? thank you. thank you for giving my little fic a chance. thank you for making me feel like my words matter. thank you for reminding me why i fell in love with storytelling in the first place.
this milestone isn’t just about the numbers. it’s about the connections (i've met so many wonderful people), the shared love for kpop, and the joy of creating something people enjoy. i’m so grateful to be a part of this fandom, to have found such a supportive and enthusiastic audience. you’ve all made me feel so seen and appreciated, and i can’t thank you enough for that.
i don’t know what the future holds for my writing, but i do know this:
i’ll keep writing because i love it, and because of all of you. thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for making this such an unforgettable experience. here’s to 1,000 notes, and to all the stories yet to come. 💕💕
inyun
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PAIRING â†Ź next door neighbor!mark lee x fem!reader
TAGS â†Ź fluff, romance, slight angst, potential soulmates, past lives au, friends to (?), shared dreams, the idea of inyun/inyeon or “fate”
SUMMARY â†Ź when you move into a small apartment complex in seoul, your next-door neighbor, mark lee, seems like nothing more than an ordinary guy. but as the two of you get to know each other more, it suddenly feels like you’ve known him forever. then mark mentions his grandmother's belief in 읞연. the idea that every encounter is woven by threads of fate. are these coincidences between you and mark really accidental or is there something deeper going on?
WORD COUNT â†Ź 3.7k+
AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ somebody (me) decided to rewatch past lives 🙈 this was supposed to be fluff and a gift for @https-lvesick but finals week started sinking in
 thank you to my saviors @viasdreams and @polarisjisung for beta reading, love y'all <33
PLAYLIST ↬ jazz bar - dreamcatcher; mago - gfriend; you - nct dream; dejavu - nu’est w; wham bam shang-a-lang - silver
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THERE IS A WORD IN KOREAN:
"읞연"
it means providence or fate. 
but it's specifically about the relationships between people. 
it's an "읞연" if two strangers even walk by each other in the street and their clothes accidentally brush. because it means there must have been something between them in their past lives.
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Your apartment door was wide open, boxes half-unpacked and filling the hallway. You’d tried to keep things organized, but between the moving of your furniture and the delivery guy calling for directions, you slowly lost your organization.
You were crouched on the floor, handling a box of kitchenware, when you heard a muffled voice behind you.
“Uh, hi? Excuse me?”
Startled, you turned to see a guy standing at the end of the hallway, a paper bag balanced in one hand and a set of keys dangling from the other. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, glasses fixed upon his face, and his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed.
“Are
 are you my new neighbor?” he asked in Korean, motioning toward the boxes that completely blocked his door.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” your voice squeaked as you responded in some broken korean, not mentally prepared to face a neighbor on the first day of moving him. You scrambled to move a tower of books out of his way. “I didn’t realize—let me just—”
“It’s fine, really,” he interrupted in English this time with a small laugh. “I’m Mark, by the way. Do you speak English?”
“Oh!” You paused mid-shove, shocked at his perfect accent. “Yes. Yes I do.” You were suddenly aware of how disheveled you looked. “Y/N,” you replied, brushing stray hair from your face. “Nice to meet you, and again, sorry for the mess. Your English is really good.”
“No worries. Happens to the best of us,” Mark said, crouching to help move the heavier boxes. “I’m from Canada, so English is kind of my thing.”
“Aah. I see.” You nodded, still mortified.
“This is your first day here?”
“Yeah. My friends were supposed to help, but they bailed at the last minute. So here I am, single-handedly creating a big explosive mess.”
Mark chuckled, lifting a box with ease. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty solid job for one person. Though... maybe try not to block your neighbors' doors next time.”
“Noted,” you said with an embarrassed laugh, standing to hold the door open as he slid the box inside.
When the hallway was clear, you expected him to leave, but he stayed, looking at the stacks of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. “Need an extra pair of hands?”
“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”
“I insist,” Mark said with a grin. “I’m a pro at this. Moved like five times in the last three years.”
Before you could protest further, Mark rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He moved like he really had done this a hundred times, lifting heavy items with ease and made the process less awkward with his small jokes.
“This box says ‘Bathroom,’ but it’s definitely full of shoes,” he teased, pulling out a pair of sneakers.
“Okay, maybe I got a little lazy with the labels,” you admitted.
“Lazy? Nah, this is strategic. Keeps life exciting,” he quipped, tossing the sneakers back in.
You laughed, the tension from earlier fading away. Somehow, he’d turned what felt like a stressful task into something almost fun.
Once the last box was inside, Mark clapped his hands together. “Mission accomplished. And since I’m basically your hero now, I think I’ve earned a reward. Got any snacks?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, I have
 instant ramen?”
Mark grinned. “Perfect. My favorite.”
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After settling in for a few days, you don’t encounter Mark again. That is, until a series of random moments start pulling you back into his orbit.  
On one of those nights, just past 9 p.m., the apartment complex suddenly plunges into darkness. The familiar buzz of your refrigerator stops, and the streetlights outside shut off, leaving your apartment only dimly lit from the moon. 
Groaning, you fumble around for your phone, only to realize the battery is at 4%. Great. You grab a flashlight, slowly open your door, and step out into the hallway, hoping to find someone who knows what is going on. 
That’s when you spot him.
Mark is sitting on the floor just outside his door, a small stack of candles beside him.
“Hey,” he greets, a faint smile on his face as he waves a lighter. “Power’s out in the whole block, apparently. Wanna borrow a candle?”
You take in his setup and smirk. He’s surrounded by neatly arranged tea lights and thick pillar candles.“Uh, are you in a cult or something?”
“Eh, my grandma’s kinda superstitious. Always told me to keep candles around the house just in case,” he says, shrugging. “I thought she was overreacting, but turns out she’s kind of a genius.”
You sit down a few feet away, gratefully accepting a candle he lights for you. The flame brightens up the dark hallway, leaving warm shadows on Mark’s face.
“So,” you start, leaning against the wall, “What do you normally do during blackouts? Just... sit around and wait?”
“Basically. Or
 get this,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “People actually talk to each other. Crazy, right? You could, I don’t know, tell me something about yourself. Like
 how many candles do you keep at home?”
“None,” you admit holding up your flashlight. “This is all I’ve got. I guess I’m doomed in a blackout. Your grandma would be so disappointed in me.”
“She would,” he agrees with a laugh. “But I’ll let it slide. Only because you’re new here.”
The conversation flows easily after that. You both begin trading random facts: Your favorite childhood snacks, his love for playing guitar, the time you accidentally dyed your hair orange trying to bleach it yourself. He counters with a tale of a botched bleach job that left him looking like a walking science experiment for months. 
Minutes turn into an hour, the candles continuing to burn as the two of you share quiet laughter and stories. And for the first time that night, the darkness doesn’t feel so bad.
—
A few days later, you’re hauling overstuffed grocery bags up the stairs when Mark pokes his head out of his apartment. His hair is tousled, and he’s wearing an oversized hoodie that practically swallows him whole.
“Oh, hey!” he calls, his face lighting up when he spots you. “Need help?”
“I got it, thanks!” you manage to say, despite your arms straining and the bag handles digging into your fingers.  
Before you can argue, Mark is already down the hall, grabbing it from you, and effortlessly carrying it to your door. “Looks like this thing was holding on for dear life,” he teases, hoisting it easily as he follows you to your door.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I was gonna knock on your door anyway,” he interrupts with a grin. “I baked something earlier and thought you might want to try it.”
That makes you pause mid-door unlock. “You bake?”
“Why does everyone react like that?” he says with mock offense. “Yes, I bake. Don’t look so shocked.”
“You don’t look like the baking type. Or cooking.”
“Oh, I can’t cook.” He scowls as if thinking about a bad memory, “But baking is pretty easy. It’s just throwing everything into one bowl, mixing it up, and waiting. Piece of cake. Or, in this case, cookies.”
A few minutes later, you’re both sitting on your tiny kitchen floor, a plate of freshly baked cookies between you. The smell of warm chocolate and butter fills the air.
“These are amazing,” you say after taking a bite, your voice muffled by the cookie in your mouth.
Mark beams, leaning back against the counter. “Not bad, right? I got the recipe off some YouTube channel. Figured I’d test it out before offering it to my friends.”
You squint your eyes, pretending to look offended. “Wait, so I’m just the guinea pig?”
He admits, laughing. “Pretty much. But hey, honest opinion: too sweet? Not sweet enough?”
“Perfect,” you reply, reaching out for another. “But you should’ve added nuts. Makes it more sophisticated. Just make sure you aren’t allergic.”
He gasps, clutching his chest. “Sophisticated? Wow. Didn’t know I was baking for royalty.”
You chuckle, playfully tossing a crumpled napkin at him, and the conversation once again flows effortlessly from there. You laugh over Mark’s failed attempts at “fancy” macarons, and somehow turn into stories about childhood food disasters.
By the time the plate is empty and an hour has vanished. With Mark, even the simplest moments feel like they belong in a movie.
—
Then it’s yet another lazy Sunday when the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Mark holding a massive box labeled 50-pack instant ramen.
“I think this is yours,” he says, biting back a laugh.
You glance at the label and groan. “Oh my God. I ordered five. Five!”
“Well, congrats,” he says, handing you the box. “Looks like you’re set for the next year.”
You sigh, dragging the box inside. A few minutes later, there’s another knock. Mark’s returned to your door, grinning this time.
“You know,” he starts, leaning against the doorframe, “if you need help finishing all that ramen, I’m just next door. We could, like, host a ‘ramen buffet.’ Charge admission or something.”
You snort. “Sure. I’ll make you the first VIP guest. Free ramen for life.”
“That’s the best offer I’ve ever gotten,” he says, eyes sparkling. “But seriously, I’ll take a few packs off your hands if it’s too much. My midnight snack stash could use a refill.”
Later, you text him a picture of your pantry. 
YOU: Your VIP pass is ready 
MARK: I’ll bring the chopsticks! 😂
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The first time the dream comes, it’s vivid enough to remember even after you wake up. In the dream you’re walking through a bustling marketplace, the air thick with the scents and noise of those around you. People push past you, but you don’t feel overwhelmed by them. Instead, there’s a strange pull, like a thread tugging at your body. You turn your head and catch a glimpse of someone—a young man with a warm smile, eyes glinting in the sunlight, and a soft laugh that echoes through the din. 
You can’t see his face clearly, but his hand brushes yours as he passes. And in that moment, it leaves a spark. A warmth that feels almost familiar.
When you wake up, the details are already fading, but the feeling of that touch, that spark, seems to linger, and you can’t seem to get it out of your head.
A few days later, you're sitting with Mark in the hallway outside your apartments, the floor scattered with takeout boxes and empty soda cans. The two of you have somehow fallen into the habit of these late-night talks, sharing parts of your day and random thoughts that cross your mind in the moment.
“Have you ever had weird dreams?” you ask, swirling the straw in your drink.
Mark leans back against the wall, his hair slightly messy from running his hand through it too many times. “Weird how?”
“Like
” You pause, trying to find the right words. “Like they’re not just dreams. More like memories. But not yours.”
Mark raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Okay, now you’ve got me curious. Spill.”
You chuckle, feeling a little silly but continuing anyway. “I’ve been dreaming about this place—a market or something. It’s super crowded, and I’m just walking around. But then
” Your voice trails off as the memory becomes clearer in your mind. “There’s this guy. I don’t know him, but when I see him, it’s like I do. And when our hands brush
”
Mark’s expression shifts, his playful smile fading into something more serious. He sits up straighter. “Wait. You said a market?”
“Yeah.”
“And
 hands brushing?” he asks, his voice quieter now.
Your stomach flips. “Yeah. Why?”
He hesitates, running a hand through his hair again. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but
 I’ve had the exact same dream.”
For a moment, the world feels like it’s spinning. You blink at him, looking for any hint that he’s maybe joking, but his face is earnest, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to solve a mystery.
“No way,” you say, laughing nervously. “You’re messing with me.”
“I’m not!” Mark protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I swear. There’s a market, right? And I’m just walking, but then I see someone—you, I guess? And when our hands touch, it’s like—”
“—like a spark,” you finish for him, your voice barely above a whisper.
Mark stares at you, his eyes wide. “Exactly.”
The air between you grows silent, the laughter and casual banter from earlier replaced by something more ominous.
“Do you think it means something?” you ask after a long pause, your voice trying to stabilize itself.
Mark lets out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “My grandma used to say that some people are connected through 읞연—fate, you know? Like
 maybe we knew each other before. In another life.”
You study his face, the soft curve of his jaw and the way his lips press together like he’s holding back more than he’s saying out loud. “Do you believe that?”
He turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know. But if it’s true
” He pauses, his gaze dropping to his hands, which rest in his lap. “Maybe it’s why I feel like I’ve known you forever, even though we just met.”
Your breath catches, his words affecting something deep inside you. The dreams, the strange familiarity, the unexplainable pull towards him, the way you could spend hours with each other, you’ve felt since the day you moved in. It’s all beginning to make a strange kind of sense. 
You don’t say anything, but your hand brushes his as you reach for your drink, and in that moment, the spark from your dream seems to jolt back to life.
Mark glances down, his fingers twitching as if he’s tempted to close the gap. Instead, he looks at you.“Maybe we’re just imagining things,” he says softly, but the hope in his voice betrays his words.
“Maybe,” you reply, though you’re not sure you believe it either.
For the rest of the night, neither of you mention the dreams again. But when you go to bed, the image of two hands brushing in a crowded marketplace still lingers in your mind, clearer than ever.
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It’s a Friday evening, and you’re sitting on Mark’s couch, a blanket thrown over both of your laps. The faint smell of popcorn fills the air as a half-watched movie plays on the screen. Mark’s head is tilted back, his eyes weary from the long day, his fingers idly drumming to a beat on the couch cushion between you.
You glance at him, noting how cozy it seems here. It’s moments like these that feel strange
 and effortless. Like you’ve done this a thousand times before.
“Hey,” you say, nudging his arm lightly. “You’re zoning out. The movie isn't that bad.”
Mark snorts, turning his head toward you. “Oh, yeah? Name one character besides the main guy.”
“Uh... The dog?”
“Exactly.” He laughs, his eyes crinkling in that way that makes your stomach flip.
But before you can laugh along, his phone buzzes on the coffee table, breaking the moment. Mark’s smile fades as he leans forward to grab it. You watch his face shift—something serious.
“Who is it?” you ask, your voice careful.
“It’s... uh, an email. From SM,” he says, mentioning the entertainment company where he’s been interning. He hesitates, scrolling through the message. “They want me to come in for a meeting. Apparently, there’s a potential opening on one of their teams in Vancouver.”
You sit up straighter. “Vancouver? Like... Canada?”
He nods, his thumb still hovering over his phone screen. “Yeah. They’ve got this big international project coming up, and I guess they think I’d be a good fit.”
You’re silent for a moment, the weight of his words setting in. “That’s... amazing, Mark. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” His tone is quiet, almost hesitant, and it doesn’t match the words. He sets his phone back down and leans back again, trying to avoid your gaze.
“So,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant even as your chest tightens, “you’re thinking of going?”
Mark runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve noticed over the months. “I don’t know yet. It’s a huge opportunity, but... I’d have to leave. Like, soon.”
“Right,” you say, your voice a little too steady. “It makes sense. You’ve been working toward something like this for a long time.”
He finally looks at you, his dark eyes searching. “Yeah, but... leaving means leaving everything. Everyone.”
You know what he’s implying, but neither of you says it out loud.
—
It’s the day of Mark’s big decision. Whether to take the overseas job offer or stay in Seoul. You’ve been avoiding the topic, scared of what it might mean for you. But tonight, the two of you find yourselves on the rooftop of your apartment building. The breeze carries the faint scent of flowers that Mark planted the other day in the community garden.
You sit side by side on the edge, legs dangling over the low wall. Although dangerous, Mark always promised that he’d catch you if you fell. He also wrapped a blanket around your shoulders. He’s always thoughtful like that.
For a while, neither of you says anything, just watching the sun slowly start to descend down the bustling city. 
Finally, Mark breaks the silence. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about 읞연.”
You turn to look at him. His face is painted in soft, golden light. “Yeah? What about it?”
He chuckles softly, almost nervously, running a hand through his hair. “At first, I thought it was just a cool idea. Like, ‘Oh, that’s neat. Fate and past lives and stuff.’ But
 I don’t know. Every time I’m with you, it feels like there’s something bigger happening. Like I’ve known you forever, and I don’t even know why.”
Your breath catches. Hearing him say it out loud makes it feel so much more real than you imagined in your head. “I feel it too. Like
 we’ve been here before. Not just on this rooftop, but in some other life, in some other time.”
Mark finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours. “But what if we’re just making this up? What if we’re using fate as an excuse to
 I don’t know, hold onto something that isn’t real?”
The vulnerability in his voice shakes you. He’s scared, just like you are. Scared of the intensity of it all, scared of what it means to let go. Or to keep holding on.
You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.
“I don’t know if this is fate, Mark. I don’t know if some invisible thread tied us together, or if we’re just two people who got lucky enough to meet. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it’s not about why we found each other, but what we do with it now.”
Mark looks at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but he hesitates. You can tell he’s turning your words over in his mind, weighing them. “So
 what do we do with it? What if I take the job? What if I leave? Does that mean we weren’t meant to be?”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing before he laces them with yours. “You taking the job or staying doesn’t erase what we’ve shared. If this is fate, Mark, it’ll find a way to bring us back together. And if it’s not
 then I’ll still be grateful for every moment we’ve had.”
“You make it sound so easy. Like letting go wouldn’t completely wreck me.” His grip tightens, and you see his throat bob as he swallows hard. 
You smile, but there’s a little sadness to your voice. “Who says letting go has to mean goodbye? Maybe it just means letting the story unfold the way it’s meant to.”
The silence that follows feels heavy but not uncomfortable. You can see the wheels turning in Mark’s mind. He’s thinking, unsure of what to say. 
Finally, he exhales a long, shaky breath. “I don’t know if I believe in fate, either. But I believe in you. And I believe in us.”
Your heart skips a beat, but he’s not done yet.
“So
 if I stay, it won’t be because I’m afraid of losing whatever this is. It’ll be because I want to keep building it with you. And if I go
 it’ll be because I know we’re strong enough to handle the distance.”
Tears prick at your eyes, and you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”
He grins, that familiar smile that’s become so dear to you.
“Not really. I’m just winging it.”
You both laugh, the warmth from your voices cutting through the bittersweetness of the moment. The future feels uncertain, but for the first time, that uncertainty doesn’t feel so scary.
As the last rays of sunlight fade, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart. Whether it’s fate, luck, or sheer coincidence, you’re here now. And for now, that’s enough.
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TAGLIST â†Ź @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania
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ditzydoefx · 3 days ago
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For the valentines day fic, you could do something along the lines of reader doing a boudoir shoot or a pinup shoot for the solider of your choice. Like all the outfits/poses/props are specific to each person for example for soap one picture could be the reader in a kilt with nothing underneath, or for ghost like a human skull sitting between their legs, etc.
-đŸȘŒ
Price's Pinup Doll ♡
Summary: You surprise Price for Valentines Day <3!
AN: So sorry this is late honey <3 I hope you enjoy!
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You're sat on your kitchen counter, watching Price cook the both of you breakfast, absentmindedly playing with the tea bag that sits in your cup. It was still early, the sun still steadily climbing it's way to the highest point in the sky. You let your mind wander as the sounds of running water and sizzling pans fill the silence that stretch between you and your husband.
Your eyes stray over to the calendar, a date, February fourteenth circled in red ink, decorated with little hearts around the bubble.
"John." You turn to him, a cheeky smile appearing across your features.
"Yes sweethear'" His voice is still hoarse from sleep, and you lean over to press a quick kiss to his bare shoulder before talking.
"What do you want for Valentines Day?" There's a knowing lilt in your voice, you're sure you already have an idea of what he wants.
He looks over at you and smiles before turning his focus back to the pan.
"Nothing." You see him attempt to suppress a smirk.
You groan at him, playfully smacking his shoulder before slipping off the counter to stand behind him and press your body against his.
"John
" You whine. "I can't get you nothing! You say you want nothing every year, for every holiday!"
He laughs, deep and rich, turning his head awkwardly to place a kiss on your forehead.
"All I want for Valentine's day is for you to be happy." You bury your face into his shoulder blades, attempting to smother your ever growing smile.
"Come on love, breakfast is ready." You hum at him, letting your previous conversation end there.
Despite your husbands finality over Valentine's gifts, the idea of surprising him with something special never left your mind. You never buy him many gifts, mostly because he insists you don't, so when you do get him gifts, you always try and make them special.
After a few days of scouring the internet, looking at forums, blog pages, and one to many tiktok videos, you come across a boudoir photographer, and suddenly an idea hits you. John has only one tattoo, it's small and on the inside of his right ankle, and that tattoo is of you. More specifically, a pinup doll version of you, wearing his favorite set of lingerie. It would be perfect, John already has a few polaroid's of you in his wallet, the lighting is awful and they're horribly taken but he loves them, so why not give him something a little more professional?
You contact the photographer, Kelly, right away, asking about her pricings and last minute availabilities. By the grace of god, she had a last minute cancelation so she was able to fit you in. Her pricings were reasonable too, though you weren't too concerned with cost. The drive to her studio was only about an hour away, so with your booking scheduled, and the initial deposit sent, you were all prepared and ready for the photoshoot. John, thankfully, would be on base that day, so a little white lie about taking a day trip erased any questions he might've had about your absence.
When the day of your shoot arrived, you arrived at the studio with a few pairs of lingerie, all the pairs that John liked seeing you in the most, and a couple very expensive robes. Kelly had some props for you to use, but you also brought some things from home. His dog tags, the hat he never seems to be without (though this was his backup hat, the real one was safely on his head), and his jacket, the 141 insignia and his last name on the back. You told Kelly you'd like to incorporate all the props in some way but left the creative direction to her.
She was an absolute angel, easing your nerves, clearing up concerns, and overall making it a exciting and tantalizing experience.
When the photoshoot finished, she showed you a sneak preview of the photos. As you looked at each picture you could only chew on your lip to contain the excitement you felt. They were perfect and there was no doubt in your mind that Price would agree. Kelly let you know it would take a couple days to edit the photos and that you should get the physical copies in the mail a few days before Valentine's day.
For the next few days leading up to Valentine's day you were restless. It was extremely hard not to spill the beans to your husband, especially because it seemed he had some idea you were up to something. Nonetheless, you persisted, watching the mail like a hawk. After about three days, when you checked the mail, you saw the unmistakable custom envelope of the photo studio. You were esthetic, making your way back inside the house to see the freshly edited photos. They were even more perfect than they were before, and the best part was you only had to wait two more days to show John.
Two days pass quickly and before you know it, it's Valentine's day. You woke up to a specially made breakfast and a much to large pile of presents. You and John shared a meal and he watched you open your gifts before heading to base for the day. You'd decided to give him the pictures from your shoot before you left for dinner that night. He had reservations at one of your favorite restaurant, and the thought of teasing him before dinner brought a smile to your face.
When Price came home, you greeted him with a quick kiss before sending him off to shower and get ready for dinner. You were already mostly finished, you had showered, and gotten dressed, the only thing left to do was your hair and makeup. You did your hair up the way John liked the most and you even wore his favorite lipstick. You looked stunning, and you were excited to give Price his gift.
You sat on the couch in your living room as you waited, the photos safely tucked away in a more holiday appropriate envelope. You're buzzing with excitement, eagerly waiting for your husband to walk down the steps. After about ten minutes, you hear his footsteps making his way down the stairs.
"You ready love?" He asks, voice low and gravely, as he makes his way to the front door.
You hop up off the couch, hiding the envelope behind your back as you saunter over to Price. He lets out a breath, his eyes wandering over your figure.
"Fuckin' hell look at you love
 Beautiful thing you are." He grabs your waist, pulling you closer to him before pressing a kiss to your cheek.
"You look quite dashing yourself John." You smile softly as his chest puffs out at the compliment.
He reaches for the door but you stop him, a smirk playing at your lips. You can see the confusion in his expression. He moves his hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek comfortingly as his head tilts to the side.
"Somethin' the matter love?" You nod, your smirk growing as you pull the envelope from behind your back.
"This is for you
 I know you said you didn't want a gift but you know I couldn't give you nothing." Price shakes his head at you fondly, a small puff of air exhaling from his nose.
"Cheeky thing.. Suppose' you wan' me to open it now, hm?" You nod excitedly and he smiles, slowly and carefully opening the envelope.
As he pulls out the photos you can see his breath hitch, his eyes frantically moving from photo to photo.
"Christ love
 This is-" You bite your lip, very proud at your achievement of making the big bad Captain Price speechless. "You are a fucking sight doll.." You smile.
"Do you like them? Did a whole custom photoshoot just for you
" He takes one last look at the photos before tucking them back into the envelope, his pupils blown wide.
"I love them sweethear'
" He grabs at your waist, his eyes zeroed in on your lips. "In fact I think m' hungry for somethin' else
" He attempts to lean in for a kiss but you pull away, smiling cheekily.
"Nuh-uh. Dinner John, we're going to be late. You can have dessert later" You throw him a sly wink before swinging open the door and making your way outside.
Yeah, this was going to be a great Valentine's day.
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hederasgarden · 2 days ago
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The Caged Bird
Summary: You disobey Tangerine and Sergei.  Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x F!Reader x Tangerine Word Count: 677 Rating: 18+ only. This is a dark fic, dead dove, do not eat. Warning for a brief moment of physical violence against the reader, implied kidnapping and physiological distress. Not all elements are tagged.   A/N: This came about from a discussion with @otaku-girl-ao3. Thanks to @ryebecca for the moodboard. We jump right into the story so it is below the cut. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.
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Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist
Your head jerks to the right, the bite of Tangerine's rings into your skin barely registering. There’s blood in your mouth, warm and metallic. Your tongue instinctively brushes against the cut. Pain flares for a moment, sharp and fleeting, but all you can do is blink, the sensation lingering just beneath the surface.
“Runnin wasn’t very smart, luv,” he reprimands. 
You stare back at him blankly, watching his chest heave with effort, anger radiating off him in waves. The ever-present fear you live with is there, but it feels distant now, buried deep in a place you can’t reach. Sergei stands just behind him, at the edge of the treeline, his eyes flashing golden. You briefly meet his gaze before quickly looking away, your eyes lifting to watch the grey sky slip through the thick canopy above. It’s quiet here—only the soft babble of the stream and the low murmur of conversation between Tangerine and Sergei. No birds, though. There never are when Sergei is around. They were smarter than you, more attuned to his true nature, fleeing when they had a chance.
You ran right into his arms. 
Sergei says your name—once, twice, and then a third time—before you can tear your eyes away from the sky. You can’t quite place the expression on his face. It used to frighten you, that uncertainty, not knowing what he wanted or being able to predict his next move. But now, you simply stare at him. Waiting. Accepting. You’re so tired. 
His thumb grazes over your split lip before he brings it to his mouth, tasting the blood. A low rumble escapes his chest, sending a shiver down your spine as he pulls you in closer. He’s warm—so warm—that you suddenly realize your teeth are chattering, your skin cool and clammy. You left the house in nothing but the sundress Tangerine liked you to wear and there’s snow on the ground. Instinct has you leaning into the touch, welcoming him like he’s taught you to.
"Let’s get you inside, pet," Sergei murmurs, his voice steady. "Into something dry and warm. Would you like that?"
You look at Tangerine, noting the deep furrow between his brows as he watches you. His mouth is bloodied, his clothes disheveled. Did he look like that before? You glance down at Sergei's hand, the skin of his knuckles is split, streaked with blood.
"I want what you want," you parrot back to Sergei, your gaze shifting to Tangerine. "I want to make you happy." 
Tangerine exhales harshly and you frown. "Was I bad again?" You ask.
“No,” Sergei soothes. “You just got a little confused. And Tan,” he adds, looking back at the other man, “shouldn’t have hit you. We don’t hit our pets, do we?”
Tangerine clenches his jaw and purses his lips briefly. He looks away from you and exhales. “Thought she was doing a runner,” he defends. 
“But you weren’t, were you, pet?” Sergei asks, cupping your jaw. His grip is gentle but there’s no mistaking his strength. The way he could hurt you with barely any effort. 
“I wanted to hear the birds,” you tell him truthfully. 
Tangerine moves around you, the snow crunching beneath his feet. You tense as his hands settle on your hips, gently kneading the soft flesh. He kisses the side of his neck, soft and sweet again though you know it won’t last. It never does with him.
“Maybe we’ll get you a bird, darlin’, a pet of your own. Would you like that?” He asks.
You shake your head, the idea of caging something so free and beautiful feeling deeply wrong. Before you can stop yourself, the words slip out—whispered, but clear. It’s the wrong thing to say, and panic rises within you as you realize your mistake. Tangerine’s grip tightens, pain blooming where his fingers dig into your skin, while Sergei’s hand suddenly clasps your chin, holding it firmly between his thumb and forefinger.
“Some things are meant to be caged,” he murmurs, his voice smooth, “to keep them safe.”
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kaddyssammlung · 2 days ago
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The lack of interviews and them being mysterious (despite everything that you can find via Google) all of this has an effect that no one ever talks about or even realizes.At least in my opinion.
We "are" the news in this fandom.
Ever thought about that?
Yesterday I came home from work and was really tired and saw what was being posted here in the main tag and it took me seconds to figure out what was going on.
That fandom is fast when it comes to these things.
That's amazing!
But the power lies in our hands. No “mass media” is involved.
Me sitting here, nodding my head and smiling while writing this.
You have no idea what that really means......
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anemptyvoidforall · 9 hours ago
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Cause op mentioned they maybe wanted ideas to be included in a fic with this premise (and cause im great at generating ideas but really bad at plot):
Someone has a list of very concerning things Danny has very casually mentioned while rating. (Joker loses points bc he doesn't get my pity vote. Last time clowns went after me at least i felt bad for them bc of the whole mind control thing).
There is a second list of things that do not make sense and Need Reaserching. (Fear toxins is nowhere near as bad as Frighty's sword)
Robin is a GhostlingTM. He finds Danny recording, recognizes the subject of several open investigations, and heads over to interrogate them. They brawl. The camera is filming the whole time. It is not cut out of the final video. Or cut at all. The Robin Brawl video is twice as long and thrice as popular as usual.
Tim looked into the trending hashtag (what did he do that ppl liked, and can it be replicated) and discovers the true reason fairly quickly. (Yes, he does have notifications for when he is trending on social media. Yes, both personas. No, he hasn't slept today. Its only 2 why do you ask?) I've decided that both of the above lists are his. He is not sharing this investigation. They have the same initials. His mystery. There is a second copy of the lists that tim has added a handful of things to (gotta keep up appearances to throw them off) in the Official Bat Files.
Despite the fact that Tim is well aware that the tag is not about him, Every Single Member of his family teases him over it. He's this close to pulling a Damian and stabbing someone. (No, he's not irrational due to lack of sleep). Jason is last (bc they don't interact often outside of bat stuff) and brings it up during patrol. Tim threatens to take one of his guns and shoot him with it. The reaction only makes his mood worse.
Idk if you like any of them. I found it kinda fun! I'm getting a "Danny is several mysteries in a trench coat and the bats are like cats with catnip" vibe from it. Especially if Danny straight up doesn't get why the bats are interested. You might not even be going that way.
Rogue Rater AU
He's sick of this shit. Might as well put the experience to use.
When the videos first come out, they're more rage rants cause this is happening so often and he's only been there for like 2-3 days. The only thing is part of his first video that Cass ans Steph put on the screen for the others to see. I have written out is that he got nabbed 6 times within the weekend he got here and if he got nabbed a 7th time then this would be his project.
Danny is in Gotham for 3 days and is already sick of the rogues and criminals. He's kidnapped, drugged, and mugged, you name it! So he takes the time to rate his experiences. To make up his semester grades, Mr. Lancer gave him a summer assignment to do while he’s at the WE Summer Scholar program to record his experiences. So he goes a little above and makes it a YouTube channel after the third incident on his first day here. Speaking about the rogues from an outsider's perspective behind a ghost image. After the SEVENTH TIME on his THIRD. DAY. HERE. He finally uses a camera, full-on (Silly-ass) rage ranting in a full black motorcyclist gear with a black tint visor that barely shows the green light coming from his eyes if you look super closely. Straight from the riddler's kidnapping today! If it's a more serious video, he'll be in a full gas mask, single colored shirt, a black hoodie over top, and white gloves. Either way, he never shows an inch of skin. Yet, no rogue has made it past 4.5/5 stars cause this kid has ALWAYS somehow experienced worse. A Gothamite calls him on it, so he shares a droplet of his experiences with his rogues, and everyone is getting increasingly concerned for RR. No one has any idea what they look like (aside from Sam and Tucker, who joined the program with him). So everyone is looking out for their midwestern accent. Tim is delighted and confused when #RRSolidarity goes viral. 
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cutehoons02 · 22 hours ago
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Puppy Love: The Hybrid's Heart
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*pairing: Golden retriever puppy hybrid Jake x human popular bratty Girl
*trope: oppositive attraction
*synopsis: What if you were to do a project on the economic boom that brought hybrids into the human world in terms of love and sex with Jake a golden retriever hybrid who at first glance looks like a puppy but slowly becomes obsessed with you, and you with your shameless insolence propose to write an essay on the overselling of sexual protections against hybrids? This idea of yours might be brilliant academically but on the plane between your relationship with the hybrid Jake could bring some spicy consequences
*tags: a lot of fluffy and fun, a lot of tension, Jake is a shy fake boy, the protagonist is quite bratty and spoiled but also has a tender side, teasing, territorial animal instinct and possession, kisses, sexual tension, masturbation (f.receives) unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) fingering, knot filling, pet names (baby,princess) (puppy,jakey)
7.6k (🐕)
(English is not my native language,this is the first time I’ve written a story about hybrids)
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The world was no longer just for humans.
Since hybrids became an integral part of society, each sector had to adapt to their presence. Medicine, law, food, and education; the world has now normalized the presence of hybrids, who coexist with humans in every aspect of society. Some are still considered "tools" for certain purposes, but others, like Jake, want to prove that they are more than what they were created for. At school or university, hybrids have mixed classes with humans, but there is still some prejudice against them. Some see them as merely trained life companions, others as true peers, instead, you were extremely skeptical, saw them as beings too perfect to be true, always kind, always smiling... which you suspect but your friends always told you to charge one or to feel the thrill of being filled by one of them but you in a sense also hated the male human gender; Going with a hybrid would have been even worse and you firmly believed that the hybrids had repressed instincts and that all their sweetness was just a mask to hide their true primordial nature of possessing someone.
In the human world, there were various forms of hybrids the most common ones were those of dogs with then the sub-species and the same thing was for cats, then there were rabbits, hamsters, and then birds but if you thought that there were only these species you were mistaken. There were hybrid wolves which were the rarest especially if they were Alphas, foxes, deer, bears, snakes, and so on.
The auditorium was full of students, and the hum of whispers filled the air while the professor was busy with the projector. The door snapped open, and a figure came in steadily without the least embarrassment of delay.
Jake barely looked up from his notebook and saw you dressed in tight jeans that tied your legs and a sweater that slipped on your shoulders.
He had never spoken to you but knew you by hearsay in the halls of the university that you were one of the most popular girls, but he noticed you immediately. Not so much for your appearance - even though it was clear that you were aware of pleasure - but for the way you moved: confident, almost cocky, as if you challenged anyone to tell you something.
Your eyes set on the only empty place next to him and with a theatrical sigh, you approached and stopped right there in front of him.
"Do you mind if I sit here?" you asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.
Jake looked at you for a moment, then tilted his head. An involuntary gesture, almost canine, that betrayed his hybrid nature, and felt his tail bursting more than it should.
«Not too much,» he replied, with a relaxed smile.
You raised an eyebrow, then dropped down on the chair with a studious ease and pulled out the notebook slowly, as if you were doing the professor a favor by attending the class.
Jake looked at you again, out of the corner of his eye and that’s when he heard it.
Your perfume, my lord. Sweet, with a vanilla note... but also something fresh, almost pungent. It was rare that a smell hit him like this, the hybrids had a developed sense of smell, sure, but after years among humans he got used to ignoring certain things but this... was too good.
Too persistent.
He barely shook his head, trying to ignore him, but at that moment you spoke again.
"I’ve never seen a hybrid in an advanced course," you commented, crossing your legs under the bench and Jake barely smiled.
«And I have never seen a girl arrive late with so much confidence and boldness»
You smiled amused because you knew how the hybrids could always be perfect in everything, never late, always right at every deadline was a thing that united their species.
"It’s a natural talent that in just a few years!" you said as you flicked through the pages of your notes.
«It must be difficult to perfect, in the human world there are clocks for this, alarms, and reminders but maybe you don’t know that.» He said looking at you with a suspicious smile that made you get on your nerves
"Oh, yes, it takes years of practice, in my house as you may have deduced there are no alarms or maybe I’m just too careless."
Jake chuckled. You liked to tease, this was obvious but not aggressive... it seemed more like a game for you.
"Anyway," you said, getting a little too close for Jake’s taste "Mine wasn’t a joke. I have never seen a hybrid in such a course. I thought they would give you more... practical courses."
Jake stopped tapping his fingers on the bench and turned slightly toward you.
«Practical?» he said intrigued by your question and felt his ears curl up with curiosity.
You smiled, just tilting your head to look at him carefully and he was really beautiful: he had black hair slightly fluffy, his ears were golden and deduced that he was a hybrid of a Golden retriever, wore a black shirt where you could see he had nice muscles and a black leather jacket, of the ripped jeans where you could see his toned legs and the only contrast was his slightly long tail that since you were sitting next to him did not stop moving and was extremely adorable but there was also a darker side: an intensity in his eyes that you had noticed immediately, a smile with perfect teeth that seemed more clever than it should be.
"Yeah. You know, things like obeying, being affectionate, devoted..." Jake laughed softly, his elbow resting on the back of the chair. «If by "practical" you mean that, then I suppose so.» But you shook your head, snapping your tongue.
"No, I mean other things." Jake looked at you with a shadow of curiosity in his eyes.
«What other things?»
You didn’t hesitate for a second to speak and Jake understood that you were extremely cheeky and had no hair on your tongue.
"Obsessing about people. Being territorial. Being perverted from morning to night. And, of course, to breed in mass, I have a friend who has a hybrid at home and is extremely territorial with her, I would never be able to take home a hybrid if then in your nature you become so obsessed and territorial with us» Jake’s smile froze for a moment and for the first time since he had met you, he was speechless.
You had said it too naturally, with too much confidence, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and for a second, Jake felt the heat rise. He was not angry, no but... he felt strange.
He knew well that there were still people who thought so, who saw the hybrids only as beings programmed to satisfy the humans and to satisfy themselves but to hear it in his face, with that almost contemptuous lightness, struck him more than he would have wanted to admit.
He passed his tongue on his teeth, then cleared his throat.
«... And tell me,» he said with a smile that he was trying to mask the irritation. «Do you want me to do these things?»
You burst out laughing, god also he had seriously the taste of humor at the stars and no doubt knew how to tease you and always had the ready answer, maybe his master had trained him well for life as a hybrid mixed with that human being.
"Are you serious?" Jake just stared at you, waiting for your answer and you shook your head, crossing your arms with a haughty little smile.
"No, not even in my worst nightmare would I sleep with a hybrid."
Jake looked away for a second.
Okay, that sentence... had more effect than expected.
Not that he was interested in that way - he said - but the way you had said it, with that absolute confidence, had left him a small, annoying scratch in his pride and passed a hand through his hair, then came back to look at you with an ironic smile.
«Ah, well...» he said, lowering his voice. «I’m sorry to break your heart, but even in my worst nightmares I wouldn’t dream of jumping on you.»
You laughed again, but this time his eyes shone with satisfaction and Jake stared at you for a moment, then barely shook his head, returning to focus on the professor but your scent kept invading his senses and was damn good.
The teacher clapped his hands a couple of times to get the class’s attention.
— Well, guys. For future lessons, I want you to work in pairs with those next to you. You will have to write a short essay on the economic and social boom that occurred after the integration of hybrids in our society, especially in the sentimental sector and... - paused, putting his glasses on his nose, - sexual.
In the courtroom, there was a murmur mixed with some suffocated laughter. Someone turned to look at his sidekick with funny or embarrassed expressions.
Jake ran his hand through his hair, letting go a slight sigh. Fantastic and his new sidekick snorted and laughed.
"Well, I guess you won’t get rid of me that easily then," you said. Jake turned to you, finding you with a clever smirk on your lips. There was something mischievous in your tone as if you were enjoying every second of that situation.
What about him? He wasn’t sure how to feel. On the one hand, the idea of spending more time with you meant dealing with your cheeky attitude and sharp tongue.
On the other hand... your perfume, it was absurd, sweet, and pungent, insinuated itself in his senses in a way that he could not ignore.
"That might be a problem," he thought, his tongue in his teeth.
You meanwhile stretch out your hand, with an almost bored expression, as if you were simply doing your social duty.
"My name is Y/n." Jake looked down at your hand for a moment, then did the same.
«Jake,» he said in a low voice smiling at you, and as soon as your hands touched, both of you felt a slight electric shock. You withdrew your hand after a second, barely clenching your fingers, as if you were unsure of what she had just felt. Jake, on the other hand, stood still, his face as relaxed as ever... but something inside of him had lit up.
He had felt the shock more intensely than he should. Like a shiver along the back, an impulse that had made his hair on the arms and clenched his jaw, trying to ignore it.
It was nothing, could not be anything.
Yet, as you turned to take your notebook and start working, he stood still for a moment too long, his eyes still fixed on his hand, as if trying to figure out what the hell had happened.
Jake nervously drummed his fingers on the table, trying to ignore the annoyance that twisted in his stomach every time you came into the library or private rooms to continue with the work your economics professor had assigned.
There were days that you worked together and, if possible, he found you more and more unbearable; you arrived late every time, as if it was your natural right and sincerely thought you did it on purpose to see him annoyed by you. And not a few minutes, once you had waited 40 minutes under the bus shelter and it was raining and when you arrived you looked at him as if you had before you not a human and animal half but a puppy left alone. Although to be honest, today ten minutes seemed almost a miracle, and then the way you dressed... always those little skirts that seemed to come out of an anime for under 18 years old, always those soft sweaters where you let see your skin smooth and perfect that slipped on your shoulders, and the loose hair that framed your face with almost irritating ease.
And your perfume, damn it, your perfume. Every day it seemed to get more intense, more enveloping, as if she wanted to drag him inside without anything he could do about it.
Jake strove to look away while you sat beside him with the usual carelessness, pulling out your notes with exasperating slowness but then saw you take something out of your bag.
A small box and he felt his breath stop for a moment, Jake recognized it instantly.
Anti-hybrid contraceptives. In pill format for girls. In condom format for boys. He felt the blood go to his head instantly, and a burst of heat rose on his cheeks before he could even control himself. Instinctively, he also felt his tail flutter hard, too hard and forced himself to stop it, clearing his throat in a desperate attempt to mask his reaction.
You noticed immediately and, of course, you made you laugh.
"Oh? What’s this face, Jake? You’re a little too reactive to be such a smart hybrid, aren’t you?"
Jake put his hand on his neck, trying to ignore the way his body was reacting against his will.
«It’s nothing,» he mumbled, trying to appear indifferent but you did not let yourself be fooled and you leaned at the table with a mischievous smirk, making the box swing between your fingers.
"Ah-ah, I wouldn’t say. You lit up like a light bulb. What, you’ve never seen one before?"
Jake stared at you. «I know what it is,» he said, trying to keep her cool. «I just didn’t expect you to take it out so... naturally.»
You laugh again and open the box, taking out a pill and swirling it between your fingers.
"Oh, honey, I always have an escort with me. You know, just to be safe. You never know, with all these hybrids around, so obsessed, territorial, and..." you got a little closer, looking at him provocatively, "perverts from morning to night."
Jake clenched his jaw and thought you were a damn problem and the worst part was that you knew exactly how much you were causing it.
You laughed and slipped the pill back into its wrapper.
"I guess your master didn’t explain to you what it means to be ironic, I’ve never taken one of these pills in my life sincerely; I just wanted to make fun of you a little bit," you said, putting the box on the table. " We can talk about it in our essay."
Jake raised an eyebrow and did not understand what I wanted to say sincerely.
«Contraceptives?» he said in a low voice as his cheeks warmed.
"Sure." You leaned on the back of the chair, fiddling with the box. "Come on, think of the gigantic market that has been created since hybrids entered our lives. The anti-hybrid condoms and these pills are very popular. Sometimes they’re even sold out in whole cities. It’s a multimillion-dollar business and thank God they are used to protect us from diseases and becoming mothers too soon!"
Jake nodded slowly, acknowledging that the argument made sense.
«It’s true. We could also talk about the condoms that we hybrids can use to release our seed and knot inside.»
You smiled and clapped Jake’s hands and sensitive ears rose with speed as he heard you slap them and smile.
"Perfect. So let’s try to put down our ideas and see that they are not as bad as you thought!" You gave him a slight elbow in the side and he nodded slightly feeling for a few seconds your skin in contact with his.
You worked, exchanging ideas and writing the first few paragraphs. As much as he found you annoying, Jake had to admit that you were brilliant had a lot of ideas for the head, and knew how to connect concepts, and how to make the essay interesting.
But he... he had a problem.
Since that little box appeared on the table, his body seemed to activate without his permission.
His golden tail did not stop moving, slamming against the leg of the chair. His ears were always on alert, picking up every sound or movement. And then... the heat on his cheeks. He needed to run his hand through his hair, to fix the collar of the sweatshirt as if he could find some relief.
It was a disaster and every time you talked to him you noticed that there was something strange about him and after two hours of notes thrown down in the computer you tore yourself into the chair and cleared your throat and watched him for a moment, narrowing your eyes.
Jake was... beautiful. Too beautiful. The kind of beauty that made hybrids seem even more dangerous than they already were. His face was sculpted but soft in the right places, and when he smiled he had that vaguely mischievous air that made the weak college girls knee-deep, and now, as he stirred, it was even more obvious that his body was reacting strangely.
You bit the inside of your cheek, then, with your usual insolence, you asked:
"Jake... have you ever laid a litter?" He suddenly froze and his eyes opened wide, surprised and passed the drink that he was drinking and you gently shook your hand on his back to make him recover
«What?!» said slightly incredulous of having heard that phrase coming out of your mouth that you couldn’t keep quiet for more than two minutes and you laughed amused.
"You understand very well. Have you ever had a litter?" Jake was speechless for a second, then burst out laughing, incredulous at the blatant question
«No!» and you stared at him, shocked.
"No? What’s not?!"
Jake crossed his arms, shaking his head with a funny smile.
«What surprises you so much? I can not inseminate and tie puppies from morning to night» he told you in a funny way
"You’re a hybrid!" you exclaimed. "I thought it was... boh, part of your instinct. Like, that’s what you were made for, right?"
Jake raised an eyebrow, this timeless amused.
«Wow. Is that how you see it?» said Jake in a somewhat sad and annoyed way, and you shrugged your shoulders, not breaking up.
"I see reality, Jake." He looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head with a half smile.
«Not all hybrids are obsessed with reproduction, you know?»
"No, but most do."
«I don’t,» he replied firmly
"Really?" you said curious
"Y/n. Sooner or later I would like to have a family of either single hybrids or half hybrids but for now, I want to make a career as you are doing, I would like to graduate and then find a job that satisfies me, and who knows also a companion to be with and not only to breed puppies!»
You looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, Jake was really a good guy and you could see that he tried every day to be respected and not fall into the traps of humans and then you bowed your head and smiled again.
"Well, then you’re an anomaly but I like this more "human" side of you that you want to make a career and live a normal life. We are bombarded with stories of hybrids that mate just for pleasure!"
Jake chuckled, returning to writing.
«Or maybe I just have high standards of life and love» he said looking at you and smiling.
"Ah yes?" you said curious
«Yes, Y/n. Go back to studying» You stared at him for a few seconds, then you just laughed, shaking your head.
That afternoon you were writing on the computer all the different types of contraceptive pills for hybrids and read there was a lot for any knot that filled you with animal and you were curious but also a little shocked and wanted to ask too much Jake if he had ever filled some. Nobody at school talked openly about what it meant to be with them in a physical sense. It was a taboo subject in sex education classes, yet, in the real world, everyone talked about it.
Many of your friends had fun with the hybrids at least once, and they all said the same thing.
"It is amazing."
"Being filled with them is an absurd feeling."
"The knot... is the best thing you can feel."
But you were always skeptical, you couldn’t stand certain humans, let alone hybrids. They were stronger, more instinctive, more... Unpredictable yet, sitting next to Jake, curiosity tickled you.
He was so beautiful that it hurt to the eyes, and yet it all seemed almost... Embarrassed when you provoked him you slightly turn towards him, resting your chin on the hand.
"Jake..." He didn’t take his eyes off the notebook, but his ears moved slightly.
«Mh? What other uncomfortable question will you ask me today?» he said laughing.
"Have you ever knotted anyone?" Jake instantly stuck his fingers on the paper, and his tail, which had been moving slowly until then, suddenly twitched and turned to you, and for the first time, he saw something he’d never seen in your eyes before.
Embarrassment, serious, genuine embarrassment.
«What?!» he asked, almost as if he had not heard well.
"You heard me very well, don’t be shy with me. Have you ever knotted anyone?" Jake felt the heat rise to his head in a flash. He ran his hand through his hair, as he always did when he felt nervous and looked away.
«I..» He shook his head and you flashed your eyes.
"Oh, come on!" you exclaimed with an incredulous laugh. "You’re a liar. You’re too good-looking to have never been with anyone."
Jake gnawed his cheek inside and heard his tail churning for your appreciation of him, he didn’t like where he was going to end that conversation, not with you so close, not with that perfume that invaded his lungs and clouded his thoughts.
«It happened only once,» he finally admitted, with a lower tone. You stared at him carefully, grasping the tension in his body, the way he seemed to... restrain himself.
"So? How was it? Did you like it?" Jake put his hand over his neck, undecided whether or not to answer, and finally sighed.
«No.» You stopped laughing and looked at him, confused.
"What do you mean?" you said in a low voice and Jake looked down slightly.
«It was not... an act of pleasure.» he paused, clenching his hands. «They used me only to make me lose my virginity, both hybrid and animal.»
You felt something gripping your stomach and you didn’t expect it, not from him.
You had always mocked him, convinced that he was like all the other hybrids, that he was just another boy too handsome and too sure of himself but now, seeing him like this... You wanted to say something, to fill the gap that had been created between you.
You approached him cautiously, looking at him with a mixture of hesitation and displeasure. You had never seen him so... Vulnerable and without thinking too much, you reached out your hand and gently caressed his golden ears. Jake froze for a second, surprised by the contact, then unintentionally relaxed. It was as if his body reacted by itself as if your gesture had a calming effect on him. His tail, which until then had been agitating nervously, stopped.
"Sorry," you whispered, in a tone you had never used with him before and Jake shrugged, looking away.
«You can even stop pretending to be sorry,» he said, with a half-bitter smile. «I know very well that you don’t care about me. You just like to tease me.»
You looked at him for a long moment, then shook your head.
"No. I won’t make fun of you any more about these things. And I won’t ask you any more personal questions." Jake turned to you with a cheeky smirk, his usual cocky attitude coming back to life.
«Oh? Then it’s my turn to ask personal questions?»
You raised an eyebrow. "Depends on the question."
Jake leaned against the table with a relaxed look, then looked you straight in the eye.
«Have you ever been with a boy?» Did you get stuck for a moment Jake tilted his head slightly. «I mean, did you lose your virginity?» And at that moment you realized he had asked you the exact same question. And you were bad with him and looked slightly down, then nodded slowly.
"Yes. I had... a kind of boyfriend" Jake stood in silence, waiting for him to continue and you were fiddling with the pen between your fingers as if you were unsure what to say.
"But I didn’t enjoy sex with him so much, maybe because I didn’t love him or to be honest I never loved anyone" Jake heard a slight growl forming in his throat, Almost imperceptible when he heard that you were not in love with that boy and that you did not like the sexual act.
«Did he hurt you?» Asked in a low voice and you felt that there was something in his tone that made you shudder, it wasn’t just curiosity, it was protection, it was territoriality and Jake felt the urgency grow inside of him uncontrollably. A primordial need to protect you from having you for yourself.
You looked into his eyes and shook your head.
"No, it didn’t hurt" but you saw that Jake wasn’t the same anymore, you were furious with yourself, you had used too heavy words with Jake, and now he was looking at you with a hidden wound and without thinking,
You grabbed it by the collar of the sweatshirt and pulled it to you, the lips that collided with hers in a kiss full of emotion and repressed anger.
God, what were you doing?
Jake stood motionless for a moment, surprised, but his animal instinct overwhelmed him soon after. His hands slid on your hips, holding them firmly as he lifted you with ease and seated you on the table. Her kiss answered yours with a mix of sweetness and pure possession, the lips that devoured yours with growing hunger.
«Y/n...» he murmured against your mouth between one kiss and another, the warm breath that touched your skin. «You are a little pest. Always teasing me, eh?»
Smile at his lips, nibbling on his lower lip before answering. " And you’re a golden retriever always too loyal... but maybe you have a wild side after all."
Jake growled quietly, amused and provoked by his words. «Oh, Y/n... you don’t even know what trouble you’re in.»
His hands went up your thighs, making you feel the warmth of his touch even through your clothes and you stroked his ears, knowing exactly how sensitive he was at that point. A shiver passed through Jake, who closed his eyes for a moment, panting softly.
«Damnation, Y/n...» he whispered with a crooked smile. «If you continue like this, I will not answer for my actions.»
You slowly recline, sinking your fingers in his hair. "What if that’s exactly what I want?"
When you left, Jake’s tail couldn’t stop. He felt so good, but at the same time excited, and whispered to you: «You are driving me crazy from the first day.» you smiled maliciously and tried to kiss him on the neck. When Jake heard you lightly sucking his skin near the ear, he groaned softly but immediately broke away from you.
«We can’t continue,» he said in a roaring voice and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Why not?"
Jake sighed, lowering his voice. «Why would I stop. I’d fill you with my knot several times,Y/n. Your perfume makes me go crazy. And I know you’re still reluctant about hybrids... If I gave you to me, everything would change between us.»
His look was serious, intense. «For me, it’s not a game, and I know it’s not for you either. You act like a cheeky little girl, but I know that you have respect for me and the other hybrids. First, you have to figure out if you really like me or if I’m just a hobby. When you find the answer, you’ll tell me. But until you know, I can’t take any chances. I want to be just one person. I don’t want to get hurt again.» And with these words, he gave you a little kiss on the forehead and made you stand up from the table.
In those weeks of study, you were still a cheeky and popular girl with Jake you loved to tease him but at the same time understand him. You had first seen him in his animal form as a golden retriever and he was beautiful and playful with you, Jake had made you meet Sunghoon a friend of his hybrid snow fox, and Jungwon a hybrid Bengal cat. At first, you were strange and anxious about this thing but over time you had made friends with them and well Jake every day that passed could not stop touching you.
You kissed a little too much even though you weren’t engaged. He explained everything about him and the sexual part of the knot and slowly you realized that he was really starting to like you and becoming more and more important to you.
The research you and Jake had done on the economic boom of hybrids using anti-hybrid contraceptives was a success. The professor even complimented you. But that victory also had a downside: you didn’t have Jake as your work partner anymore. You noticed it, he seemed a bit down in morale, even if he never admitted it openly.
Fortunately, you both studied economics, so over the next few months you would have had more classes together.
The students of the course had organized a party and you were there with your friends, dressed in a dress perhaps a little too succinct for Jake’s standards. He looked at you with that territorial gaze, every interaction you had with some human being, especially male, seemed to make him tremble with irritation. He knew you were popular, but not that much. He noticed how some guys looked at you all night and, at one point, he got fed up.
With his tail wagging slightly and his ears raised, he approached you with a grin.
«Baby», he said, tilting his head with fake innocence, «are you aware of how many glances you attract with that little dress?»
You gave him a mischievous smile, sipping your drink. "Oh? Are you worried about me, puppy?"
Jake snorted, getting even closer. «Worried? No. Tired of seeing all these idiots staring at you as if you were a succulent meal? Absolutely yes.»
You laugh and enjoy his jealousy. "What’s the problem? It’s not my fault I’m pretty."
He clenched his jaw slightly, then leaned towards you, his voice getting lower. You know, you could be a little more discreet. Don’t you mind being looked at like that?»
You came even closer, your lips a few centimeters from hers. "And you don’t mind?"
Jake looked at you for a moment, then his hand touched your side with an almost imperceptible but possessive gesture. «It depends. If you want all those guys to know that you’re out of reach, I can make it clear to them.»
You raised an eyebrow, nibbling your lip. "Oh? How would you do that?"
Jake smiled, tilting his head. «Do you really want to find out, Y/n? Because I don’t know if you’ll like being claimed in front of everyone.»
Your heart skipped a beat, but you kept the cheek.
"Maybe you should try it, then. Let’s see if you have the courage."
Jake laughed softly, his eyes shone with a dangerous light. «You’re playing with fire, baby. And you know it.»
You smiled, caressing his ear distractedly, making the poor hybrid shudder. "And then burn me, Jake."
Late at night, the music was still pulsing in the disco and everyone was dancing. You were having fun too, but Jake, tired of the whole situation, came up to you with a look full of tension. «I can’t take it anymore," he murmured in a low, hoarse voice.»
You smiled maliciously and, caressing his soft golden retriever ears, mocked him. " Oh, does the little golden retriever have to sleep?"
Jake growled softly, approaching you with a predatory look. «I’m not tired of sleep,» he hissed, his eyes fixed on you. «I can’t stand to see you dancing with those idiots anymore. I want you so much, Y/n. You’re driving me crazy.»
Without thinking too much, you took his hand and together left the disco, walking quickly towards your university room. The journey was quiet, charged with electricity, and as you closed the door behind you, Jake did not waste time. His hands squeezed you firmly as his lips pressed against yours in a possessive but sweet kiss, laden with desire held back for too long. His tongue explored his mouth with greed, while one of his hands crept into your hair, squeezing it lightly to hold you close.
It was only for a moment, the breathless breath. «I want you, Y/n. I want to make you mine.»
You looked at him with bright eyes, your heart beating like crazy. Annuisti, but Jake was not satisfied. He touched your face with his nose, his warm breath on your skin. «No, I want to hear your beautiful voice tell me. Tell me you love me. Tell me you want to be mine... that you want my knot to fill you.»
You shivered at the sound of those words, feeling the heat enveloping you more and more. He looked at you with devastating intensity, waiting for your answer.
"I want to be yours, Jake." When Jake heard these words coming out of your mouth slightly pushed you onto the bed and without thinking began to smell you and then give you small kisses on your neck mixed with small pacifiers and light bites to claim you that made you crazy and moan his name, You began to rub yourself in its length covered by his jeans and at the same time caressing his hair and his ears and felt it more and more excited and the same thing happened to you.
There was something almost intoxicating in having him over you, his wide body looming over yours, his dark brown eyes with heavy eyelids peering at you as if he wanted to devour you completely and to have you all to himself, continued his kiss trail along your body, Stopping only when you pulled the top over your head, leaving you with only your underwear and saw his cheeks warm up when he took off your breast-rest and began to tease with one hand your right breast and the other began to suck your bud; It was a beautiful feeling and while he sucked you and left some trail of saliva you pinched him slightly and stuck your back to the feeling of his hands in your breast and his tongue that was doing a dangerous game just to tease you and make you go away the head.
«Fuck, you’re so sexy but at the same time sensitive to my touch». Jake panted as his hand touched your breast, the nipple creaking against the cold feeling of his tongue making you groan. You were so sensitive, the feeling sent you a jolt, gasping as Jake smiled at your skin and thought if you were so sensitive with only his tongue in your buds, he couldn’t wait to see you go crazy while he’d innocence you to him and push himself inside of you.
His other hand slid between your legs, touching the wet stain that had formed on your underwear as you pushed into his hand with a moan.
«Fuck, you’re soaked for me, baby». Groaning to the feeling of your excitement covering his fingers, the lips meeting yours once again in a hungry kiss, Jake detached himself from your lips, quickly lifting his shirt off his body as he threw it somewhere in the room, The sound of his belt unbuckling hit you right to the heart.
You watched him in just his boxers and he was definitely beautiful, his hair was messy, his cheeks were red, his body had beautiful abdominal ridges and you licked your lips when you saw his V-line go down to the stuffing of its length.
"I want you so much." Whining.
Jake smiled as he hovered over you again, his hands meeting your full boob again and the other hand traveling to your inner thigh, snapping his finger under the hem of your panties, caressing your clitoris, and ripping a jolt.
"Jake..." you panicked, hands clenching on his shoulders as the pleasure slowly invaded you. He smiled, bowing down to kiss your neck with warm and moist lips. «Calm down, baby...» he whispered in a tone full of possessive sweetness. «I have to prepare you well. I too can’t wait to fill you up, but I want you to be ready.»
You could feel the redness rising up your neck as her touch made you shiver, your thighs trembling with desire.
"Please..." you said in a low voice as you heard him take off your wet panties
«Please, what?» His thumb caressed your clitoris, the sudden friction made you groan, and Jake moved away slightly, his lips brushing your lobe as he murmured. The heat that accumulated in your stomach overwhelmed you as you felt that with one finger he was tickling your clitoris and with another had filled your pussy pulsing around him, You felt that it was pumping and at the same time, it was teasing your clitoris and pinching it just to make you arch your back and beg you to have it inside of you.
God, where was the shy boy who would be embarrassed if you teased him?
"Fuck me, please Jake, I need you" As you came in his fingers he lifted up slightly and your hands fell down, finding their warm and pulsating length between his delicate fingers.
Jake moans softly to the touch, his breath accelerated as his fingers sank deeper into its wet center. «Damn it, baby... You’re so perfect...» he mumbled against your skin, nibbling at her ear lobe.
You barely moved, the hands exploring him with curiosity and need, while your body was tending more and more under his caresses. "Jake... I can’t wait any longer..." You whispered with a supple tone and lowered his boxer shorts and saw his lengthy erected and full of slime liquid and you couldn’t wait to be tied to him and feel it inside you.
"Fuck." You whisper, wondering how beautiful his cock was, which was clinging around your hands and you pumped it slightly and Jake looked at you softly as he put it on top of you. «God, you’re so fucking beautiful.»
You both groan simultaneously at the feeling of his cock touching your clitoris and moving again, aligning with your entrance.
«Ready?» he asked, with a roaring and stinging voice and with a tail that was rumbling for joy and anude, biting his lip.
"Use your words, princess.» he flicked his toe along your folds
"Yes! Yes, please. Fuck me."
He shoved his cock tip into the heat, rubbing it provocatively against your folds and Jake groaned as he pushed his length inside you, your body twitching at that feeling.
It was hot. Big. Deep. The knot was filling you in a way that you would never have imagined; now you understood why human girls were crazy about hybrids. It wasn’t just pleasure-it was the feeling of being held, tied, branded. There was no escape, and yet you didn’t want to run away. Every movement of Jake made you shiver, his knot pulsed inside you, and the mixture of pain and pleasure sent you crazy.
Jake’s dark eyes devoured you, full of desire, with a visceral lust that made him almost savage. The hybrid instinct in him roared, calling you, asking to brand you, to bind her to himself permanently.
When he finally pushed himself inside you, a deep growl escaped from his lips. The feeling was overwhelming, perfect.
"Jake..." your voice trembled, and your eyes were bright as the knot pressed inside you. "It’s so... intense."
He stopped for a moment, inhaling your scent, that sweet aroma mixed with sweat that was driving him crazy.
«Shh, baby... » he leaned over you, the tongue that touched your neck, tasting you. «My knot is trying to tie you to me.»
He pushed deeper and you held your breath as he felt the knot swell, and expand inside you. The mixture of pleasure and that subtle burning made you shiver.
"Jake... the knot..." anxiously, the nails slid down his back, scratching him slightly. "It’s too much... it’s driving me crazy."
He kissed you with force, suffocating his groans in your mouth, the tongue that explored yours with a primitive, possessive hunger.
«You’re almost there." His breath was warm against your skin, his ears flattened for pleasure. «Your body is adapting to me... do you feel it? You are perfect for receiving me.»
It moved again, and the pressure within you increased. You trembled when the knot swelled further, locking it inside you, and preventing it from coming out.
"God..." whispers, clenching at him. "You’re driving me crazy."
Jake smiled at your skin, the tail moving slowly behind him like a satisfied predator.
«Fuck you, baby feel how it grows inside of you.» With each push, you felt the knot getting bigger and bigger and the pleasure penetrated you completely as you felt Jake always pushing himself inside of you and at the same time tickling your clitoris to make you come.
«You know what it means, don’t you?» His voice was low, seductive, almost hypnotic. «It means that my body is trying to tie you to me. He’s trying to... put my puppies inside you.» Your eyes pounded, the heart pounding in your chest. He touched your cheek with his lips, then dropped down the neck, leaving little bites everywhere, imprinting his mark on you.
«I know you’re taking the anti-hybrid contraceptives, baby.» His smile was almost smug. «But sooner or later my knot will fill you in the way it should.»
A shiver passed through you. Those words should have frightened you, but instead, they lit something inside of you, something deep and primordial; you felt the rush of chills and adrenaline take you in the blow and came and after two more pushes Jake filled you completely with his knot and his sperm came out of you and he licked you while you felt that it was still hard and him with those puppy eyes but mixed to territoriality and perversion you looked and nodded slightly as you felt that he sank his cock inside you again, Jake sank his face into the hollow of your neck breathing in your sweet and intoxicating scent while his knot still pulsed inside her. He felt you tremble, your body still shaken by the waves of pleasure that had swept you both away.
«You are so perfect for me... feel how your body is holding me back? As if it didn’t want to let me out...» He said in a hoarse voice, kissing your jaw softly
"I feel it, Jake... God, I feel so full..." you said with a sigh of pleasure
Jake moved slowly inside of you, feeling the pressure wrap him even more, the swollen knot that was still glued to you.
«And you will always be. Always full of me. Of my knot... and my seed.» he said whispering in your ear, with a satisfied smile.
You visibly shudder at his words, a mixture of excitement and total surrender in your dark eyes.
"Yes... yes... I want to be all yours... filled by you..."
Jake kissed you ardently, slowly sinking again «Good, baby. Tell me how much you like it.»
You were anxiously, clinging even more to him. "Jake... you make me feel so good... it’s too beautiful... I still feel the knot throbbing inside of me..."
Jake laughed softly at your lips «Because my body knows that you are mine. I will never have enough of you.»
He moved again, this time more deeply, and moaned, feeling the heat spread everywhere.
Jake with a satisfied sigh, caressed your face sweetly as he looked into your eyes «Do you want some more, baby?»
Bite your lip, clenching your legs around his hips with a mischievous smile: "Yes... yes, Jake... I want more."
Jake growled softly, with a satisfied smile as he kissed you passionately. «Then let me fill you up again. Cause I’m not done with you.»
When Jake broke away from you after you came, he helped you gently clean himself by caressing your face. «Did I hurt you?» He asked with a thread of concern in his voice as he saw you still shaken.
You laughed, shaking your head. "No, you were incredible... just a little intense!"
Jake hugged you, like a real puppy looking for affection, and kissed your head with sweetness. «You’re perfect for me,» I murmured, clenching myself. «You drive me crazy every time... and I think I’m starting to love you."
You looked at him surprised, your heart beating faster in your chest. " I have never loved anyone... but when I am with you I feel something strong," you admitted, looking down.
Jake smiled and, jokingly, whispered: «I can’t wait to hear it for real.»
You chuckled and replied with a fake bored tone: "Yes, maybe in a couple of years."
He burst out laughing and, without warning, began to tickle you, making you laugh and trying to shake off his loving hands. The room was full of laughter, and complicit looks, something that was growing between you, stronger and stronger.
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