#i watched it and i finished it and i enjoyed it while i was watching it

[angelltheninth]

twst housewarden catching you 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴ing yourself 😈

The emoji feels appropriate, I have that exact look on my face while writing this.

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, watching, toy use, masturbation, getting caught, fingering, clit stimulation, orgasm encouragement, teasing

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I don't need to fuck myself, life does it for me.

Riddle wants to enjoy the show now that he's walked in on you with your fingers in your pussy. Since you couldn't wait for him then you don't get his cock even if you beg for it. You bet he's gonna jerk off to you too so your show better be good enough to make him come. Because if he doesn't finish you don't get to either.

Leona already knew what you were doing before he stepped into the room. He was able to smell how horny you were, which he finds very hot, he would have just liked that you waited for him. But on the other hand you're already wet enough for him as you are now. So all he needs to do is push his pants down and fuck you until you pass out.

Azul never lets you fuck yourself without him being involved somehow. The best way to do that is with a remote controlled toy that the two of you picked out together to have some fun when you're apart. When he gets to your room he knows you'll ditch the toy for his cock. Or you can take both if you can handle that.

Kalim tries his best to be a gentleman when he catches you masturbating. But the cock in his pants stirs with every moan you let out and before long he's hovering above you. The moment you move your hand away from your pussy his cock is there to replace it. No matter how many orgasms you had he'll give you at least one more.

Vil instructs you how to fuck yourself while his cock gets hard. He wants you on your knees, rubbing your clit while you suck his cock. Right as he's about to come he gently moves your head away and gives you a quick kiss and pulls you onto his lap and his cock. You can't wait to come and neither can he, so ride him hard.

Idia didn't need to catch you, it was you who told him what you were doing. And he was in your room in a minutes. The temperature rises even before he gets his cock inside of you, his cock hot and pulsing, much better than your fingers. Make sure to tell him every time you get horny, he always wants to be there for you.

Malleus pretended to not hear anything and knocked in order to give you time to stop but you didn't. Since that's the case, since you're teasing him, you must be ready to get fucked until you can't walk. You know full well what you're doing to him, pushing him over the edge. His feral side unlocked, ready to give you what you want.

[purinfelix]

Franco Colapinto, where his girlfriend gets jealous of his interviews, so she does everything to make him jealous in return.

a taste of his own medicine ⋆.ೃ࿔*･- franco colapinto

summary: you've had enough of your boyfriend's shameless flirting during interviews, and hatch a plan to get back at him for it w/c : 1.3k

a/n: AAAA this is such a cute idea anon - i wrote a good chunk of this a while ago but only just finished the last bit today, thank u for the req and i hope u enjoy !! <333

You wondered if your boyfriend could feel the stone-cold glare you were giving the back of his head from your spot in the VIP lounge - though if he could, he surely wasn't doing anything about it.

Initially, there hadn't been any problems with keeping your relationship secret - in fact, it had been your idea for a number of reasons. You just didn't consider yourself ready to be swarmed and scrutinised by the media or have the title of 'F1 wag' bestowed upon you. It didn't feel right, if anything it felt like a disservice to boil down your relationship with Franco to something so sensationalized. Keeping it private seemed the best decision, at least for the time being. But now, the longer you watched your boyfriend shamelessly flirt with anyone who crossed his path, the more you grew to regret this decision.

You weren't by any means a jealous person by nature, but something about the fact that no one but you had any problem with this situation - and only because they didn't know about your relationship - irritated you. If only you could figure out a way to make Franco feel the same way you were. Just at that moment, as if by fate, you spotted a young-looking boy in a race suit walking casually past the lounge. His carefree walk, curly brown hair and boyish smile - bingo.

"Hey there," you called out, hopping up from the chair you were sitting in and walking over to the boy.

"Oh, hello," he replied, seemingly taken aback by being addressed by you.

"Sorry, it's just that I'm a little new to all of this and," you look him up and down, "you look like you know what you're doing, do you think you could show me around?"

He laughs shyly, hand rubbing the back of his nape. "Well, I mean, alright then, I'm Ollie by the way."

"Lovely to meet you, Ollie." You offer a girly giggle which you try your best not to cringe at as you follow the boy, who begins to walk around the nearest garage.

He begins to explain things, the process of getting ready to drive, the roles of different team members and the physics of the car itself - all of which you could care less about, but you nod earnestly regardless. Along the way, you even offer any mechanic or engineer who seems your age a friendly smile, and even a wink if they're particularly good-looking.

It's just your luck too that all of this is happening just close enough to the media hubs where your boyfriend has been stuck all afternoon. You try your best not to look too often over at him, not wanting to give away the true intentions of this mini tour you're scored for yourself. He doesn't seem to share the same sentiment though, based off of how many times you've caught him stealing glances at you, his eye following watchfully as you laugh and tease your impromptu tour guide.

"And so every element of car design has the purpose of making it as fast as possible, either through aerodynamics or by making everything lightweight," he continues to explain excitedly, and even though you're starting to feel dizzy from all the nodding you give him a quick one.

"Oh, wow!" You say, and before you know it you've landed yourself in the perfect position - within both earshot and line of vision of your boyfriend who seems to be wrapping up one of his last interviews for the night. Now, for the cherry on top.

You watch as Franco finishes saying his goodbyes to the last of the media crew, his eyes now searching the paddock for you. Knowing that he's looking at you, you throw your head back in laughter at nothing in particular and bring a hand up to graze Ollie's upper arm. Though you have his back to him you know your boyfriend well enough that when you feel a hand on your own shoulder mere seconds later, you aren't too shocked.

"Oh, hello Franco," you hum, feigning innocence. "Ollie here was just showing me around and keeping me company, isn't he the sweetest?"

"Very sweet." He grins through gritted teeth, though his strengthening grip on your shoulder says otherwise.

"No problem, oh but hey I forgot to show you just one more th-"

"Thanks, kid, but my girlfriend and I have got to get going."

Trying not to make it too obvious on your face how pleased you were that your plan had worked, you thanked Ollie once more before you felt Franco's grip sliding down your arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. Desperately, he dragged you off and away from your tour guide - who had a slightly confused expression painted on his face as he watched the two of you disappear into the Williams garage. You were amazed by how quickly your boyfriend was walking as he pulled you into his driver's room, shutting the door behind you quickly.

"What was that?" he huffed immediately, not giving you a second to say anything. You only smiled in response, watching his normally calm expression morph into one of frustrated confusion.

"I told you, Ollie was showing me around, you were busy with your interviews anyways," you decide to keep up the act of innocence, though you can tell he's not buying it.

"Bullshit, what sort of showing around involves touching him."

"I didn't think you were watching, those reporters seemed to keep you pretty occupied," you say in a sing-songy tone, throwing yourself down on the couch in his room. You wait for him to respond - something equally sarcastic or quippy, but when you turn to look at him you see him staring at the wall in front of him, eyes furrowed in confusion. Slowly, the cogs in his mind seem to start working as his expression slowly changes into one of realisation.

"You were jealous," he breathes out, turning to you with eyes wide and brows raised.

"Oh pfft- I wouldn't say jealous, bored now that might be more accurate but-" You're interrupted by him taking a seat on the couch next to you, face now painted with a smug look.

"You didn't like that I was talking to so many reporters, did you?" His teasing tone is enough to make your heart race a little, though you try your best to keep calm.

"I'm pretty sure you were doing a little more than talking babe, you were flirting!"

He looks at you with a slightly offended expression, "flirting?" It's almost as if he's just realising what he was doing.

"Uhm, duh."

"Did it really look like that?" His brows curve up into a pleading expression, "I didn't mean to, I swear!" You let out a soft chuckle watching his apologetic expression.

"It's fine baby, just try to be a little less friendly next time - I think your PR team would appreciate it anyway." He nods, scooting a little closer so that he can lay his head on your shoulder. There's a beat of silence before he speaks again.

"You were jealous," he hums, almost as if he's talking to himself.

"Wh- so were you! Poor Ollie is probably terrified of you now!"

"Whatever, he's a big boy, he'll live," he sighs, reaching for your hand and intertwining it in his "Plus, don't act like you're any better using that kid to get back at me."

"Hey, I had to do something before you walked out of that media room with a second girlfriend," you crossed your arms in annoyance, refusing to even look at him.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he laughs, before turning to peck at your jawline. Before you can stop you're melting into his touch, bringing a hand up to brush his curly hair away from his face. It might be a weak apology to some, but to you - to be here with him, in the privacy of his driver's room, away from Ollie, the reporters, and the rest of the world - it's more than enough.

taglist: (reply/send me an ask if you'd like to be added!)

@spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk

[lyinginmeadow]

Breakaway | hockey!Azriel × reader

Summary: You're not a fan of a kiss cam. And neither is your boyfriend.

Word count: 1,8k

Warnings: swearing, miserable knowledge of hockey (sorry yall), Rhys being a protective asshole over his sister

A/n: Anyone a hockey fan? No, just me? Okay. Another thing is, that I described university as I know it in my country haha. I hope no one will be confused

Also yes, I did take inspiration from tiktok. I just loved that scene <3

Leaves started to fall which meant your favorite season was starting. You loved anything and everything that came with autumn. The pumpkin spice, moody weather, sweaters, and books. With autumn knocking on your door, the new semester has begun. You didn't mind studying, you actually enjoyed it to a certain degree, but the stress is what always got to you during exams. You were just starting your second year of university, so you knew what to expect. To many that was all. Just endless studying and partying to get their minds off things. You? Not really. Ever since you could remember, fall meant the hockey season started. Were you a hockey player? No, not at all. Ice skating was your passion, just not hockey. That didn't matter, because your brother was the golden child. Rhysand played because your father used to. You would never say it out loud, mainly because it would inflate his ego even more, but Rhysand was a star player. He was so much better than your father and you knew that if he wanted to, he would make it far. 

 Rhys never acted towards you with any malice other than just a bit of sibling rivalry. He was actually quite protective of you, given the fact you were his little sister. But whatever you did was never good enough for your father. You might study medicine, but Rhys was finishing law. You might figure skate but you were no hockey player. And most of all, you were a woman. And your father despised you for it. You were expected to make it to every game, but no one ever wanted to attend your competitions.  You enjoyed watching the games, especially when Rhys met his best friends and teammates at university. The games became so much more interesting when Azriel entered the ice. Rhys might be the captain and the center, but Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, the fastest player in the rink. You became friends with both Cassian and Azriel quickly since you often visited their house to get away from your parents. Rhysand of course was glad but you knew you were off-limits to his friends. Not only was it obvious in how he glared at both of them whenever they made a comment he didn’t appreciate. But the first time you met, Cass basically undressed you with his eyes. From what you heard he reminded them often to not mess with his sister.

It did not stop you from developing feelings for him the moment you laid eyes on him. For a while, it did seem he viewed you only as his best friend's little sister. Which you had a hard time accepting. Your relationship changed when you sneaked into a party they had thrown in celebration of a victory last year. You were a first-year, and your first semester at university had been hectic, but living close to your brother and away from your parents was a long-awaited blessing. Having a taste of freedom made you bold. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of you, you had been like a magnet. He hadn't been the only one as you attracted the attention of another freshman. Azriel might not have acted on his attraction towards you before but seeing you with another man changed that. One thing led to another and you were sneaking out together whenever you found time.

It had been a year and your brother still had no clue. And you intended to keep it that way. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want to worry about his teeth off the ice as well. Cassian on the other hand suspected, thankfully as you introduced him to your friend, Nesta, he became preoccupied and dropped the matter. 

''So who do you think will win? And be honest, they're not here, you can't hurt their fragile egos.'' Nesta disturbed your train of thought. You laughed shaking your head. You loved hanging out with her because of how direct she was, always saying exactly what was on her mind. You met Nesta when your university did a charity ballet on the ice of Nutcracker. You got the role of Clara and she was your ballet counterpart. You did not expect to establish a friendship with her, but she was exactly who you needed in your life. You knew she would call you out on your bullshit anytime and you liked her for it. She also happened to be the first person you told about Azriel. She was not surprised, saying that you weren't being as secretive as you thought you had been.

''You know I am still biased since I really want our team to win. The Cavaliers are good and they play dirty. But Cass will probably try to kill Eris on the ice. Given the history and all.'' You gave her a pointed look. Shifting your gaze to the rink, you tried to find number 38.

''They’ve got no chance against VU.'' Said a guy next to you. You hated when someone butted their way into a conversation. But given the fact, that you would be spending about two hours in close proximity, you had decided for a polite smile. ''I guess so.''

''So how come you've got such good seats? Know someone on the team?'' He chimed in again.

''You could say that. My brother is the captain.'' You answered keeping your eyes on Azriel as he warmed up.

''Rhysand is your brother?''

''Unfortunately.'' You nodded, and his eyes grew in size. ''That's so lucky! I wish I was a hockey player or just knew them. You see, I got these seats because I'll be writing an article about the game.'' You smiled politely again shifting your gaze to the rink when the puck was just about to hit the ice.

As the game progressed, the crowd became electric. All the fans were shouting and your ears began ringing. Velaris Bats were in the lead, but only by one goal and everyone was nervous. To make the game even more enjoyable, there were games for the fans as well. Students competed against one another to win points for their university and win the competition of the tribunes.

The competitions were fun and good entertainment during breaks. But while the game continued the camera was turned on. You laughed at a random do a meme moment, but quickly turned your head back to the ice. You didn't want to miss a second of Azriel's game. Fully focused, you didn't realize that the camera switched to a kiss cam. A guy sitting next to you turned his head to face you and pointed to the TV earning your attention. ''I mean when in Rome, right?'' He laughed as he tried to close the distance. ''Yeah, no, thank you.'' You laughed nervously shifting in your seat.

''Oh come on, it's just a kiss.'' He pressured, and you gave a panicked look towards the ice. You heard Nesta taking a sharp inhale to give the guy a piece of her mind. You were interrupted by shouts of the fans and loud banging on the glass. 

''Back the fuck off.'' You couldn't hear Az properly, but the message was quite clear, making the guy shift his gaze between the two of you uncomfortably. Az got two minutes for stalling the game which made the crowd boo and your brother yell obscenities as he often did when one of his teammates was sent to a bench. Thankfully during the power play the Cavaliers didn't get a goal in, but it was close. It only enraged Rhysand more which was abundantly clear when he almost broke his stick as the second period came to an end.

Azriel was sending daggers to the guy sitting next to you who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. He relaxed when the players left for their locker rooms. You just hoped Rhys didn't look much into Azriel's possessive behavior.

''What the fuck was that?'' Roared Rhys as he entered the locker room.

''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Azriel continued to take off his gear.

''Do not play with me! You could have cost us the game.''

''I was thinking I did you a favor. He had no right to touch her like that.'' He finally faced Rhysand.

''It was a fucking kiss cam.''

''She didn't want to be kissed. And he didn't back off.''

''So what? You made it your mission to help her while you were supposed to pay attention to the puck?'' Spit Rhys. Everyone in the locker room was silent watching the two stubborn players go head to head.

''Yes! And I would do it again.'' Azriel retorted.

''I could have you off the team for this.'' He hissed.

''Rhys-.'' Cassian signed. ''Be my guest.'' Azriel interrupted starring Rhysand down. He wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He knew you could have handled yourself back there. Hell, Nesta was there, too and she wouldn't let some guy do anything disrespectful. He just acted on an impulse. When he looked up and saw your panicked gaze, something shifted inside him. Rhys kept watching Azriel, staring right into his soul when suddenly his eyes grew larger as if recognizing what he should have seen from the very beginning.

''You've got to be kidding me.'' When Azriel didn't answer, Rhys continued, ''Tell me you don’t have a thing for my little sister.’’

''Azriel, I swear to everything that is holly, I will fucking punch you if you don't give me an answer.''

''We are together. Have been for almost a year.'' Azriel never saw anyone have an aneurysm. But if he could guess, Rhysand was a textbook example of how it looked like.

''I take it back, I will punch you anyway.'' And he might have if Cassian wasn't there to catch Rhys. ''Easy there killer. The game is still on. And you might not like it but Az is an asset.''

''I don't want to see you anywhere near her, understand? I know how you are with girls!'' Rhysand snarled.

''You know I can't do that.''

''Then you're off the team.''

''Fine.''

As they returned to the ice, the tension between Velaris Bats was palpable. Cassian was looking between his teammates probably trying to find a quick solution to the problem at hand. Azriel wasn't paying you any attention keeping his gaze on the ice only. You frowned slightly. When you looked at Rhys you found him staring back at you anger oozing out of his every move. 

He knew.

[daniellesis54]

Neither of us were ready for the size of his cock. He was so long and thick that I couldn't help but feel insecure and want to leave. It had the opposite effect on my wife, and his made sure to point that fact out several times. She made me admit how emasculating it was seeing how my wife responded to his superior cock. She even grabbed my hard dick, told me how pathetic it felt, and made me tell her that it was too little. While wife came over and over on his massive cock telling the entire neighborhood how much bigger and better he was than me his wife stripped me naked. She wanted my inferiority to be on full display before she sat on my face and had me prepare her for her husband's big dick.

After nearly a dozen orgasms my wife was barely conscious when he declared victory over us. I was honestly worried about her as she was barely even moving with each deep stroke. They made me beg him to stop destroying my wife and apologize for having such a small dick that didn't prepare her for his size. I could tell how wet my begging was making his wife and see my wife meek reaction each time he flexed his enormous cock inside of her. I hated how much they both enjoyed destroying us and how helpless I was to do anything. I didn't even stop licking his wife as I begged him to take mercy on mine.

Once he finally finished rearranging my wifes insides and breaking her mind, he brought his monster over to his wife. He pushed my face out of the way before I heard her tell him he needed to clean the slut off his dick before he could fuck her. I quickly learned that since it was my slut wifes cum that I would be the one cleaning his cock off. As I was still pinned under her wife, I was helpless to do anything but close my lips and turn my head away.

That's when he started slapping me with it. As utter humilating as it was, the physical pain was much worse. He was big and heavy and hit me so hard my ears were ringing. Before I could even respond, he hit me three more times, and I opened my mouth without even thinking. One more slap was all it took to make me start licking his big dick and huge balls like a popsicle. I was fanatical about licking every fold and crevice until his big dick was spotless. Despite my enthusiasm and thoroughness, he still beat me with it a few more times before he impaled his wife.

I watched as inches from my face he split her open and made her take the entire length. I couldn't help but imagine how much he must have changed my wife to make her able to take him. As his balls slapped against my face I felt the head of his cock tenting her stomach and pressing into my forehead. He pummeled her while she crushed my head with her thighs orgasm after orgasm. After showing me what he can do to a woman who can actually handle him, I felt his balls tighten, and his iron rod of a cock somehow get even bigger and harder.

I knew how big his balls were. I had licked them and had them slapping my face for the last hour. Still, I had no idea how much cum they contained. His huge cock completely filling his wife caused each blast to spray out of her and all over my face. It wasn't even halfway through, and I felt like I was going to drown, and each thust covered my entire face in a fresh coat of his very potent smelling seed. It quickly coated my nostrils, and my only choice was to open my mouth or suffocate.

Expectedly mouth filled up immediately with his cum and I had no choice but to swallow. Bythe time his impressive orgasm ended I had to swallow so much cum I could feel sloshing around in my stomach. To my dismay the removal of his big cock was followed by twice as much cum as had already filled me up and glazed my face. Like the stud who just destroyed my manhood and my wife, it just kept coming. I couldn't figure out how there was even space inside of her for so much cum but didn't have time to think about it.

I swallowed so much of his cum my throat burned, my stomach hurt and I felt nauseous. After a few hours his wife recovered enough to walk and they left me covered in his dried cum and my wife mumblimg deliriously in the corner. I passed out too humiliated and tired to even clean his cum off my face.

When I woke up I crawled to the shower and discovered how hard it was to get dried cum out of your hair. Plus, it had clogged my nose and ears, and it was days before I could hear out of my left side. When I finally came out of the bathroom, I found my wife with an ice pack between her legs. She was on her phone, and I quickly realized she was texting him and setting up their next date. I tried to object but my wife just looked at my naked body with pity in her eyes and asked if I knew what a chastity cage was.

[keyotosprompts]

the best feelings

some things to incorporate in your story plot, or some things to imagine (platonic or romantic)

⇸ someone you love wrapping their arms around you from behind. you’ve never felt such warm, tight, strong love before. you wish it would never stop.

⇸ ^^ additionally: both turning towards each other at the same time, and then bumping noses. you two both laugh and you think to yourself that, this is it: this is all you need.

⇸ making that one person laugh, and then immediately breaking out into a smile afterwards. or, you try to hide the huge smile.

⇸ that feeling after ending a 6-hour text conversation with the person you can be yourself around (you don’t even notice that it’s been 6 hours)

⇸ finishing something that you've spent dozens of sleepless nights on

⇸ getting told, "i love you"

⇸ how all the air gets sucked out of you once something has been achieved

⇸ actually being able to enjoy waking up in the morning

⇸ ^ waking up in the morning to see that you aren't alone, and there is someone's arms clinging to your side. everything inside of you is filled with relaxation.

⇸ feeling the cold breeze after days of hot weather.

⇸ having someone help you put your shoes on (using their shoulder while slipping on your shoes)

⇸ gazing at someone, knowing that they’re yours forever

⇸ running into someone you like, constantly

⇸ unexpected meetings with someone you haven’t seen in a while

⇸ silence after a long day

⇸ kissing someone and you can feel all the love they put behind their lips. you feel it flowing into you.

⇸ looking back at old photos with your someone and reminiscing on how far you two have come. so much as happened since then, but the love has relatively stayed the same.

⇸ cats brushing up on your leg. cats laying down on you.

⇸ a dog following you around

⇸ inside the car with a good playlist. you know you’re gonna be entertained for hours.

⇸ being at the front of the line

⇸ “you’re my favorite!”

⇸ the graze of a person’s fingernails lightly scratching your back. you two are both laying down in bed with only the moonlight seaping in. this must be the most relaxed you’ve been in ages

⇸ a good finale of a tv show

⇸ saying a witty one-liner that makes people laugh

⇸ going to bed on time

⇸ finding the perfect scent

⇸ kissing someone on the cheek and watching the smile that breaks out after

[stayconnecteed]

“ㅤcasual intimacy moments.ㅤ”ㅤㅤfeat.ㅤstray kids

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ,⠀ ( none of them, just pure fluff and love from our boys ーfelix's is a bit suggestive at the end𓈒⠀⠀enjoy! )

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾 ,⠀ ( if you saw this post in another blog no you didn't because it was me having a tumblr break down and creating another blog for the fun of it. anyways, i really really love cute domestic moments, even more if it's skz themed hehe𓈒⠀⠀hope you like it! )

⠀ೀ　──── 　bang chan.

for chan it's the almost gravitational way you always rotate around each other, with passing caresses and soothing embraces, unable to separate. it's the way your legs tangle under the sheets at night, when you inevitably end up wrapped in his arms and your minds drift off to sleep in harmony. it's every time you walk outside and your hand finds a place next to his, at first just brushing, but always gently intertwining your fingers. when he invites you to his company events, and guides you through the crowd of guests with the warm palm of his hand pressed into the small of your back, murmuring in your ear a low ‘i'm going to say hello to some colleagues, just give me a second’, waiting for you to give him that shy little smile followed by a quick nod. or at a quiet dinner, surrounded by your closest friends, forever sitting right next to you, his hand drawing meaningless shapes on the bare skin of your thigh absentmindedly. chan carries the weight of the conversation, but he's always paying attention to you. if you even hint you want to say something, he'll lean back in his seat, looking at you as if you hang the stars in the sky every night, sliding his arm around the back of your chair, caressing your shoulders, playing with your hair, smiling at every word you pronounce. it's the way he leaves a kiss on your temple when one of your friends points out what a good couple you make, and you press yourself against him, blushing and embarrassed, but still resting your hand on his chest, cuddling onto him with pride.

⠀ೀ　──── 　lee know.

for minho it's the way the velvety sound of your voice can make the weight of a bad day slide off his shoulders, and he always greets you with a big genuine smile. it's the way he doesn't take a second to plug his bluetooth earbuds into his phone as soon as your personalised notification song starts playing, indicating that a new audio from you has arrived in your chat. you usually narrate whatever has just happened to you as if you were recording a podcast just for him, and minho can't help but listen to every second of it with a smitten, adoring gesture curving his lips. it's hearing you humming in the kitchen when he wakes up, starting his day in a good mood and with a slightly scorched pancake in his hand, or receiving your sleepy greeting when he wakes up first and you can only cling to him as he finishes preparing the breakfast. it's your giggles, his playful whispers, your cranky protests and the voice you make when apologising to him after an argument, even if it wasn't your fault, just because you hate fighting with him. but most of all it's at night, when you watch him chop vegetables for dinner while you go on and on about everything you've done during the day. and when you pause, paying attention to the music playing on the radio, and you miss the comment he makes, something along the lines of ‘you look pretty on my counter’, but it's okay. because you just exclaimed that your favourite song is on and you started dancing in the middle of the kitchen, and he knows it is, but he just smiles. he's always listening to you: that's the song that plays every time you text him.

⠀ೀ　──── 　seo changbin.

for changbin it's the way in which your presence has become his safe space, and you his pillar, always willing to let him carry some of his worries on your shoulders. the way you stand so firm and secure, with a soft smile curving your lips, welcoming him with open arms. it's the way that since he was young he has needed to keep quiet about everything he feels, to avoid hurting anyone who might hear him speak, but it never happened with you. knowing your limits, he speaks with the freedom of one who knows he is in a place he trusts, telling what he has done during the day, but also his private thoughts and deepest longings. it's all those times when he has come home and spent his time talking, sitting in bed, while you make notes or tidy up the room. you listen to him, relaxing, and he always feels better after talking to you ーeven if you haven't said a word. and if he comes in in a bad mood, or even sad, or just doesn't feel like talking, you walk him to your bathroom to put on your gym outfits, and take him with you to release energy. but if you don't feel like it, then he's the one who helps you clean up, selecting a random playlist from his private spotify account and vacuuming, mopping, or even his favourite: doing the laundry. being able to smell the clean towels and sheets, taking your time to fold them carefully and neatly, him holding two corners and you holding the other two, doing it together, and getting to sit on the couch and watch it all tidy up makes you feel satisfied.

⠀ೀ　──── 　hwang hyunjin.

for hyunjin it's the way you look at each other, meeting in a room full of people even almost unintentionally. automatic, at first as a coincidence that made you blush like teenagers, and now as an old habit that never fails to make you smile. it's the way you don't need him to utter a word to know what he needs, to find out what's wrong with him. one look from him, his eyes moist with sadness, and you do whatever it takes to make it right. one look from you, full of loneliness, and you can't get him to leave you for the rest of the day. it’s looking into his eyes and knowing he's the most important person in your life. searching for him with your eyes when you hear something he'd love to know, and discovering his absence. missing the way his eyes curve into a smile when you hear a joke and he's not there. repeating word for word later in the day, knowing he's lost in thought, and his gaze lost on you, certain he'd smile with his eyes even if it wasn't funny. because it's you. it's coming home to find it silent, exhaling all the pent up stress he's been accumulating and being able to lose himself in your eyes. even before you go to sleep, when you meet in the bathroom to brush your teeth, it's that glance. sometimes tired, sometimes clear as a summer night, but always with the glow of the happiness you give each other. is when you make a silly face, and he has to hold back to keep the toothpaste foam from coming out of his nose, or dance in front of the mirror, humming whatever. even later, face to face on the mattress, when you look at each other in silence, tracing every detail you fell in love with, sometimes with your memories, sometimes with your fingers, sometimes with your lips.

⠀ೀ　──── 　han jisung.

for jisung it is the selfless and generous way you love him, as if it were as easy as breathing. the way you make him the centre of your universe at every sign of faltering, even when he doesn't think he deserves it. how you put all your trust in him from the beginning, overflowing so that he learned to trust himself too. how you treat him when he feels like a broken glass, too fractured and fragile, letting him lie in your lap, teaching him how precious he is, reassuring him for as long as he needs, with soft words and slow caresses. it's the way you say ‘baby, i'm home’ when it's seven o'clock and you've only just opened the door, always eager to get to him, and also how you never fail to show up at his late-night studio sessions with home-cooked food for him and his hyungs. you make sure you don't interrupt, and he always works better with you around. because you were the first person outside his circle that he allowed himself to be vulnerable in front of, the night you asked him how he was and he just crumbled, and you wrote i love you on his arms with the marker you'd been painting with, until he started to believe it. but mostly because that time he decided to be the one to initiate physical contact, resting his head on your shoulder, he noticed how you tensed. he heard your heartbeat quicken, and was aware of the slow, calm way you tried to breathe. and when he heard changbin enter the room, as loud as ever, he had heard you threaten him with very unpleasant things if he made jisung wake up. he will never tell you that he was completely conscious, but he will love you just the same.

⠀ೀ　──── 　lee felix.

for felix it's the way you both drown under each other's skin whenever you can, creating an ethereal bubble around you. the way your bodies seek each other out, taking refuge next to each the other when you want to hide from the world because you've become saturated with emotions. it's him collapsing on top of you when he comes back from a really physical session, letting your fingers dance over his aching muscles. it's how you snuggle into his chest after an argument with your best friend, seeking his warmth, not resuming the video game until he makes sure that all you need is his physical touch to rest. he will get fuzzy to your words, like when you show him how you see him on those days when he's feeling less confident, but he'll leave kisses on your forehead every time he notices you moving and will stop the game as soon as it's over to be with you. or in your routine, bathing together. when one of you goes to fetch the other because you're feeling down, and you intertwine your fingers on the way to the bathroom, tenderly undressing each other, cuddling under the fine line that separates the real world from underwater peace of mind. maybe you lean against him, letting him massage your shoulders, or maybe he has his eyes closed, his head on your chest as you wash his hair. but you are always skin to skin, letting your bones melt, the soft vanilla gel washing away your sadness, leaving only wet kisses and sighs contained in the tarnished tiles of your bathroom.

⠀ೀ　──── 　kim seungmin.

for seungmin it's the way your smile plagues his day to day, your memory constantly on his mind. it's the way that when it comes to you, everything else doesn't matter. it's your chat; plagued by highlighted messages, pictures that have reminded him of you, audios with drafts of tunes, videos he forces jeongin to record when they're on a trip, titles of books you'd once mentioned you'd like to read ーto confirm before he buys them for youー, the review score of the movie you wanted to go to the cinema to see, a screenshot of your favourite artist's concert tickets. it's the way seungmin will do anything for you. from leaving you his hoodie at dusk, when the weather starts to cool down, to letting his phone bill run up, just to be able to hear your voice when he can't be with you. but none of that compares to the day you decided to move in together and he discovered he'd never been too much for you. he sat on your new shared bed, surrounded by packaging, and opened the shoebox that you had treated with the utmost care when you brought it up to your room from the car. every CD he had made for you, every polaroid and ticket, every note and receipt, even that attempted copy of his minho hyung's doodle he had made on a napkin, on one of your first dates. it's the way you've never made him feel like he's too much, matching his energy every step of the way.

⠀ೀ　──── 　yang jeongin.

for jeongin, it's the way you intertwined your lives without even thinking about it, accepting oddities and enjoying every moment. it's the way you started to memorise each other's likes and dislikes by sharing your time, like his favourite order of coffee or your favourite walk from home to work, which always passes in front of his work, so you could go together. it's the curve of your hip against the counter as you stir the food absently while you wait for him to come home, and the way you hang on his neck as soon as he walks in the door, covering his face with kisses. it's how clumsy he is, and all the band-aids you've had to put on, or vases to glue, but also how forgetful you are, and all those days when he's reminded you of important things he's written down on his phone for you. it's those almost nocturnal trips to do the shopping, because he never remembers and you always forget, and how you leave the house together, shoulder to shoulder, with knowing smiles on your faces.  the walk hand in hand to the supermarket that opens later in the evening, taking advantage of the lit pavements to take couple photos or, if there aren't many people in the street, to record a cute tiktok. the way you slide your arms across his chest in a back hug as you wait for the traffic lights to turn green and cross, and the process of convincing each other to buy your favourite snacks at the same time as the food, without going over budget. those quiet moments when he insists on being the one to carry the bags, and then you both place them together in the kitchen cupboards, whispering love songs.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝑡𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.

this is a big i'm sorry for being so out of here rn, hope you guys understand :((

@skzms , @starlostastronaut , @rylea08 , @atinyniki , @jazziwritesthings , @manuosorioh , @hanjsquokka , @linosssss , @babybearcubbs , @kayleefriedchicken , gnabnahc097 , @caitlyn98s , @reignessance , @starlostseungmin , @bbokari711 , @nebugalaxy , @nxtt2-u , @strawberrysworld26 , @catiuskaa , @lyramundana , @jisunglyricist , @jisuperboard , @choixlia , seungminniez , juuh-07 , ayyonoona , @seolarzone , @my-neurodivergent-world

( + ) @katzline , lixxpix

ㅤㅤ© stayconnecteed ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[liz-on-leash]

you are jiheon brother (or father) and you love to sniff her used panties, one day she catches you in the act so you have no more options than stuffing them into her mouth and r*pe her <3

Jiheon × Male Reader

Rape, Incest, Brother-Sister

1,541 words

Don't mind the random drop. I was cleaning my draft and thought I should finish this one and post it. Enjoy! Let me know what you think.

You stuff Jiheon's mouth with her own dirty panties, the acrid stench of your arousal mixed with her fear and utter disgust. The salty tang of sweat mingles with a faint musk, the heady scent of Jiheon's nether regions flooding your senses. You breathe deeply, savoring the exquisite aroma, feeling yourself swell inside your jeans.

Jiheon gags and sputters around the fabric gag, her pretty face contorted in revulsion. Tears roll down her cheeks as she tries in vain to spit out the revolting improvised gag. But you hold it firmly in place, twisting the crotch of the panties into a tight knot at the back of her head.

"Shh, it's okay, Jiheon-ah," you croon sickeningly, petting her hair. "Just hush now while oppa takes care of you."

She whimpers and shakes her head frantically, trying to jerk away from your touch. But she's too weak from the beating you just gave her. Jiheon slumps against the wall, her body quaking with quiet sobs, the gag muffling her cries.

You can't help but give her perky ass a firm smack, watching it jiggle delectably under her short denim shorts. The flimsy twill fabric does little to hide the round globes of her bottom, riding up to expose the creamy tops of her thighs. Your cock throbs at the tantalizing sight.

Cracking your knuckles, you grab Jiheon roughly by the hair and yank her head back. "Keep fighting me and it'll only get worse," you growl menacingly. "Be a good girl now, okay? No more struggling. Your big brother's gonna give you what you need."

She blinks up at you with wide, fear-stricken eyes, tears clinging to her thick lashes. A whimper escapes her gagged mouth at your words. But Jiheon goes limp, submitting herself to your depraved whims with a hopeless sob.

"That's better," you purr, releasing her hair. "Such an obedient little sister you are. I'm gonna fuck you so good now."

Turning her around, you brace Jiheon's chest against the wall, admiring the way her crop top rides up to expose the soft curve of her lower back. Your hand finds its way underneath the hem, caressing the warm skin. She shudders but doesn't resist, resigned to her fate.

You undo the top button of her shorts and slowly unzip them, letting the garment hang open on her slim hips. Your fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and peel them down in excruciating slowness. The fabric clings to her goosebump-covered thighs and you have to tug it past her knees before it finally flutters to the floor, leaving her lower half bare.

"Fuck, what a perfect pretty cunt," you groan, drinking in the sight of Jiheon's glistening pink folds. "I'm going to enjoy this, Jiheon-ah."

Your other hand fumbles with your jeans, urgently unbuttoning them and shoving them along with your boxers down around your thighs. Your throbbing erection springs free, slapping heavily against thigh. The swollen purple head already glistens with precum.

You step forward and grind your bare cock against Jiheon's plump asscheeks, groaning at the silky skin on skin contact. Your length slides between her thighs to nudge insistently at her dripping entrance.

"Get ready, baby," you hiss in her ear. "I'm going to split you open on my fat cock."

Jiheon just whimpers, pushing her face into the crook of her elbow. But you don't care about her pain or humiliation anymore. All you can focus on is the aching need pulsing in your engorged shaft, the primal urge to claim your sister as your own.

You bunch her hips forward, spreading her asscheeks wide open with your thumbs. Lining the broad tip of your cock up with her fluttering labia, you begin to push inside with agonizing slowness. The engorged head stretches her open, forging a path through her clenching walls.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight!" you groan rapturously, fighting the urge to slam balls-deep into her at once. You want to prolong this blissful torture, to make her feel every excruciating inch of your length dragging inside her.

Inch by torturous inch you work your being cock into Jiheon's snug passage, forcing her open to accommodate your girth. She begins to squirm and buck against the invasion, a muffled scream tearing up her throat. But you just slap her ass hard, jolting her forward and driving your cock in deeper.

Finally you bottom out, your pelvis smushing against the backs of her thighs. Jiheon jerks and writhes, trying to escape the thick shaft impaling her. But you just wrap your arms around her from behind, pinning her tight against your chest in an inescapable hold.

"C'mon sis, you feel that?" you groan in her ear, grinding your hips in a filthy circle. "You feel your oppa’s cock splitting your cunt wide open? God I knew you'd feel amazing on my dick..."

Jiheon sobs brokenly, shaking her head and trying to cover her face. Her tight sheath clamps down rhythmically around your length as if trying to buck you out. But you just laugh and start to move, nibbling and sucking on the side of her neck. You hike her leg up high on your hip, tilting her pelvis back to alter the angle of penetration.

You set a brutal pace, jackhammering into Jiheon's upturned pussy with animalistic grunts. The sounds of flesh smacking against flesh echoes obscenely through the room, mingling with your sister's stifled cries. Her pert breasts bounce wildly against the wall with every rough thrust, the flimsy triangles of her bra straining to contain them.

"Take all of it, take my cock like a slut," you snarl, punctuating your words with savage slaps to her ass. Her creamy cheeks jiggle like jello and bloom with red handprints. "Fuck, I'm gonna ruin this pussy, make you my perfect little cock sleeve. You're never gonna let anyone else inside you after I'm done, only I get to fill this cunt from now on!"

With that degrading declaration, you rise up on your toes, hauling Jiheon off the floor and bending her in half. You begin to rut into her wildly from behind, yanking her hips back to meet your savage thrusts. The head of your dick kisses the entrance to her womb with every plunge, the flared tip catching on some inner ridge inside her that makes her clench and spasm.

Jiheon's legs give out and she slumps forward into the wall but you hold her up easily, one arm wrapped around her narrow waist like a steel band. Your other hand whips up and grabs a fistful of her hair, wrenching her head back at a painful angle so you can rub your scruff over the delicate skin of her neck and shoulder.

"P-Pl- Please," she hiccups out between choking sobs, her voice muffled and garbled around her gag. "I c-can't... it's t-too m-much! I'm g-gonna- Ahhhngh!"

Her back arches sharply and she clamps down HARD around you, her inner muscles rippling and fluttering. You feel a flood of liquid heat gush out around your pistoning shaft and splash down your balls. The realization that you just made your sister piss herself in unwilling ecstasy sends you hurtling toward the edge.

"Fuck… cum for me Jiheon-ah!" you roar, slamming into her harder and faster. "Gonna pump you full of my cum and make this womb quicken with my baby! Nnngh your cunt is MINE now, only I get to fuck it, unnnfff!"

Your last word dissolves into an animalistic grunt as your cock jerks and swells inside her, the boiling pressure in your heavy balls finally erupting. You grind your pelvis flush against Jiheon's ass and hold her tight as you begin to unload spurt after spurt of thick cum directly into her spasming womb. It feels like your orgasm lasts an eternity, your cock flexing and pulsing with every wave of pleasure.

By the time you're spent, Jiheon is shaking and shuddering weakly in your bruising grip, completely limp and unresisting. Her entire body is slick with sweat and streaked with tears. A thin trickle of urine paints the inside of her thighs and puddles on the floor between her dangling feet.

You press sloppy kisses over the livid marks marring the back of her neck before carefully unwrapping her wrists and pulling the sodden crotch of her panties out of her mouth. Jiheon immediately begins to retch and cough, sucking in huge gulps of air.

"That's enough playtime for today, baby sister," you rasp, your voice raw with satisfaction. You carefully shift your softening cock out of her abused hole, watching with approval as a river of pearly cum follows in its wake to splatter obscenely down her trembling thighs.

"You got filled up real good. I think you're gonna get pregnant from this, huh? God that'd be something, my baby growing in your belly while you're still dripping with my cum..."

Jiheon sets up a pitiful wail at your words, her body beginning to shudder and quake with great, wracking sobs. But you just smile indulgently and gather her pliant form up in your arms, carrying her off to bed without a care in the world. It's time to pick up right where you left off.

[curlybiter]

nsfw curly headcanons

whaddup mouthwash nation i don't normally make posts but i was sick in bed thinking abt curly all day n i got inspired by other ppl's hc posts on here ☺️ so im throwing my hat in the pile.. these are kinda disorganized but the first part is curly x long-distance reader (reader doesn't work on the tulpar), second half is more general stuff.

this post features; afab reader, cunnilingus, masturbation, various other things

when he's single it's pretty easy to get in his pants but it's embarrassingly easy for him to catch feelings for ppl he sleeps w. nd once that happens it's OVER he can't even Look at anybody else bro he is Dedicated

during hauls when he can't be with u it's rlly hard for him to get u out of his mind, esp when he's working bc there's no immediate outlet .. under normal circumstances he doesn't rlly masturbate that often, but when hes away from u it's a lot more common^^; just whenever he can get some privacy alone tbh. he prob does smth rlly lame like look at a picture of u while he does it LMFAOOOOAOA

he gets rlly pent up in the week or so before he gets home especially... once he finally gets home to u he can keep himself in check in public + around others, but once u two are alone at home he's all over u for basically the rest of the night DJFKG hope u dont have work the next day

100% service top no question. nothing turns him on more than your pleasure. he's fine w piv sex if that's what u want but honestly i think he rlly prefers to give oral/handjobs/etc. he'll make sure u cum at Least once before he gets any, especially!! when he's just got back from a haul. he likes to put off his own satisfaction as long as possible bc he tends to fall asleep after he cums but he doesnt want the night to end so quickly^^;

after hes finished getting u off he likes to hold u for awhile while u calm down.. n then he'll let u do whatever u like to him^^ i think he likes when u touch him the most, but really as long as you're enjoying it he's not too picky abt how u get him off

honestly he prob cums pretty fast bc he stays turned on for so long w/o stimulation, but he likes it when u edge him a little bit (not too much tho!)

i honestly don't think he's that much of a talker, esp while receiving. he gets too into it to form coherent words. u can try dirty talking him but u won't get much more than an enthusiastic nod or a whispered "yes" .. oh but he does love saying yes to you::3

THIS MAN WHIMPERS BTW. esp if u pull his hair while he's eating u out, it drives him crazy😭

very much an oral fixation kinda guy, he likes putting your fingers in his mouth, kissing, biting, licking, marking, anywhere he can get to but mainly ur neck/chest

SAYS I LOVE YOU DURING SEX IDC‼️ he melts if u say it too..

reaaaally really likes it when u take charge n tell him what to do, he'll follow ur every word

also into body worship, both receiving and giving. he works hard on his physique! tell him he's beautiful!! (he also thinks your body is perfect and will appreciate it at any opportunity ofc)

he is addictedddd to your voice n it's a big reason why he's so into pleasing you over himself, he lives to hear you whimper n gasp and moan for him. doesn't matter if ur loud or quiet, he loves ur voice bc it's yours

he also really likes to watch your expressions to see how he's doing, and because he thinks you look beautiful writhing under him, but!!!! he'd understand if u were a shy type who gets embarrassed easily, n he'd hide his face in ur neck or vice versa so he cant see u^^ he'd prob just verbally check on u a liiiiitle more often::3

[ashomodeus]

Hi all, it's been a minute... Work has been really rough. I promise I haven't disappeared again. Here's this.

Where is each brother + Dateables favorite place to... connect with Mc.

Gn!Mc, Smut warning, bad grammar, take a shot every time breeding is mentioned, food porn for Beel.

Why am I at work for 12 hours???

Thank you, Beyonce, for providing me with this phone to write. She's my ghost writer if anyone asks. If her lawyers ask, this is a joke.

Lucifer 》 His study

●With under the desk support from Mc all his stress is magically gone.

●No one bothers him when he's in his study, meaning hours... and I mean hours could go past and no one would question why he's in there so long.

●Would test Mc's limits, having them cock warm him as he finishes his last bit of work. Don't think that Mc is the only one being teased. Lucifer has always been able to focus on one thing at a time but with Mc there? Forget it. 'How would Mc look bent over there, How about on my desk, or right in front of the door for his brother's to hear MC is all his for the night'

●Mc giving him head while he's trying to have an important conference call.

●Having Mc lay on the couch exposing their filled holes threatening to drip out while he finishes his work.

●He has some things in his office for Mc like a designated drawer for Mc that only Mc and Lucifer can access like rope, towels, a change of underwear, some toys for Mc to use while Lucifer is busy.

Mammon 》His car

●Two things that he loves.

●His favorite thing is to recieve head while driving. He enjoys edging and pushing himself as far as possible until he has to pull over. He wants to pull over because he wants to be milked until he's weak.

● He would want to drive while pounding into Mc.He would never be able to drive without Mc again without having to pull over and masturbate to the idea of Mc being there.

●Mammon likes to convince Mc to go run an errand with him just for them to both to come back disheveled. Mammon doesn't want anyone to see Mc in that way and doesn't want anyone to hear them so he'll find a few places.

●Once Mc did a nude photo shoot in Mammons car and those photos will always remain in his empty wallet.

●Mammon hates messes in his car but he so his seats have waterproof covers for certain reasons...

Levi 》Anywhere with water

●Listen water can make you feel weightless. Since water is his strong suit he knows how to control water and make sure Mc doesn't drown.

●Beach trips normally involve Mc and Levi leaving for a swim and not coming back for hours. Mc would think the sand would get everywhere but devildoms sand is so much different.

●Levi loves sneaking into the shower while Mc is showering. Sometimes, he just loves to watch Mc. He especially gets turned on if Mc doesn't notice he's there watching. He slowly strips as he walks into the shower with Mc, only startling them for a second. He loves taking the shower head and putting it on sensitive places of Mc's increasing water pressure the more sensitive Mc got.

● He loves "accidentally" spilling water on Mc while gaming together.

Satan 》 Library

●Knowledge is power and just when he think he's read every book. There's a new series he can read. Once he met Mc it was a bit difficult to focus on both reading and Mc. He soon realized he can have it both.

●Having Mc read to him while he fucks them. He would stop everytime Mc would stop. He just loved felling Mc tense as he stopped.

●Another fun thing to him is that Mc would have to keep quiet since they were in a public place. The rush he got thinking of someone walking in on him having his cock rammed into the beloved Mc.

●He keeps a list of books to the said that he thinks would sound a lot better with Mc's breathy moans. He also finds it as great stress relief. They would sneak into the library after hours so Mc could make as much noise as possible.

●Sometimes when they're reading together Satan makes Mc wear a vibrating toy and silently turns it on and off when he pleases.

Asmo 》His bedroom

●Asmo is an expert when it comes to connecting. His room has all the necessities. Sound proofing, toys, ropes, leashes, wax, towels, everything. He could give Mc a facial mask after giving them facial.

●Theres a mirror on the ceiling that is right above the bed, mirrors everywhere. If Mc was having a low confidence day he would cover up the mirrors or fuck Mc in front of them in every position to show them how hot they truly are.

●Asmo room also has a camera that follows sound so he can record whenever they are fucking but of course that involves being loud enough.

●Sometimes Asmo will indulge in black coffee because he doesn't want to loose energy or stamina. He wants Mc to do so many things and make sure that Mc's mind is just full of how good they feel and how horny they are.

Beel 》 Kitchen or bedroom

●Duh

●Food play. He loves nyotaimori/ namtaimori; Body sushi, Human tray. He loves to layout his favorite foods on Mc, keeping them as protected as possible. He also would love to fuck Mc with a certain things then eat them. Ie: Cucumber. He wants to see how much of the thick cucumber Mc could take, licking the cucumber in-between tries. Then proceeding to eat it after.

●His fantasy would involve him coming down for a midnight snack and Mc is there surrounded by his favorite food. Mc being just as hungry for Beel as he is for them.

●Ever since the few nights Mc slept on Beels bed. He's been hungry. Their smell is permanently embedded into the bed. He would want to fuck Mc in that bed. He would give Mc a lot of oral. Making sure to taste every drop of them.

●He would to fill up Mc with his load to make sure Mc is as full as he is.Though he's very considerate Mc should expect a bit of soreness next day.

Belphie 》 Attic

●A place to be by himself in a cozy bed Mc riding him as he's slowly woken up.

●The attic is a quiet place. He normally dreams the most about Mc in this room. If anyone tries to interrupt their time together Belphie will quickly cum inside Mc and plug their hole with their underwear. He likes to see them squirm around at the discomfort of the underwear getting soaked with Belphie's juices.

●He likes waking up Mc with him about to cum on their face. He also loves sleepy horny sex where they can't even tell what's where.

●Belphie is extremely possessive so everything is on his stuff. It's not because he's lazy It's because their sent keeps him calm and makes him want- actually NEED them.

●He once used bedsheets to tie up Mc to the bed to overstimulate and exhaust them.

Solomon 》 Anywhere and everywhere

●Mc's room, his room, over here, over there, everywhere. Solomon is proud he scored the hottest human out there. He will fuck Mc when he wants wherever he wants. The idea of someone walking in on them makes him fuck Mc’s throat harder.

●One of his favorite places is the empty classroom right next to an active classroom.

●He admits to watching Mc change in their bedroom from an enchanted mirror he gifted them.

●He loves to tease Mc while they are out. Together they can make a single trip turn into an 8 hour errands day. Once he had Mc pinned in an alleyway while feeling them up and giving them aggressive hickies. He walked away as if nothing happened and Mc weak knees would struggle to carry themselves.Mc would get so desprate that they would drag Solomon to another alleyway and they would be at it for at least an hour.

Diavolo》 The balcony of the Castle or even hidden rooms

●He loves to show what he can offer Mc besides he massive cock. Of course he's anxious to rule devildom but he will do what needs to be done. Mc grounds him. What he doesn't tell Mc is that it's practically impossible to see that balcony. He would never jeopardize Mc or anyone's respect. The balcony gives him time to think a time to feel and reflect. Making Mc feels good makes him feel good.

●He loves exposing Mc's gaping hole towards the balcony. It shows everyone that only he can fill that hole.

●Diavolo is constantly hiding from Barbatos and he loves to drag Mc with him. Sometimes Diavolo forgets what rooms are in this huge castle so it's an adventure with Mc. Small rooms where Mc can barely move due to being pinned by Diavolo. He loves the rush of hiding and trying to be as quickly as possible. He wants to please every part of Mc.

●He loves when Barbatos finds themsawsee and he awkwardly leaves while Diavolo continues.

Barbatos 》 Mc's room

●He wants Mc to be as comfortable as they can be. He enjoys giving Mc massages. Waiting on Mc hand and foot. He wants Mc as comfortable as possible.

●He's more of a pleasure dom than anything. He gets off by just seeing Mc sprawled out on the bed shaking from pleasure. He could simply cum to the thought of it. It's private and quiet. He doesn't have to worry about anyone else except Mc. After he Mc into mush he'll be in the kitchen cooking them their favorite meal. Just to give them enough energy for a round two. He would snap photos of the exhausted Mc to keep for later just to stare.

●Mc's room is also good for Barbatos because Diavolo won't bother him as much. Barbatos only uses his demon form when he wants to fill all of Mcs holes.

●Any messes made in the room he'll clean it up. Since he knows he'll be cleaning anything that happens to get dirty. He's into a lot of WAM (wet and messy) Mainly with saliva, cum, sweat. The more the better it shows him he's doing a good job at pleasing Mc.

Simeon 》 Mc’s bedroom

●He wants Mc to be comfortable. He's never really felt as calm and confident ever since meeting Mc. When Mc looks like they are calm it calms him. Simeon feels safe to sort of lose control. He's a tease outside of the bedroom but now he can actually act out everything he wants to do. By everything, he means everything. Everyday he thinks of a new way He could fuck Mc or even have Mc fuck him.

●Mc's room feels familiar enough for the both of them. Of course it's a bit difficult when the brothers are home but that's when Simeon implements the quiet game. He slams himself into Mc and see how long it takes for Mc to almost give out.

●He loves texting Mc to meet him in their room. He's just so excited to be able to show Mc he's not just an Angel. He can make Mc feel things that they have yet to feel.

●They barely use the bed. Simeon likes to make sure there's a different position everytime. His mind is corrupted by how many positions or how many times can he make Mc cum that night.

[elikajinnie]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙅𝙖𝙠𝙚

pairing: sim jake x f!reader ✿ warnings: fluff, kisses, suggestive content, just jake being jake ✿ synopsis: jake watching you do your makeup ✿ a/n: i was doing my makeup today while listening to daydream... and this just spawned, took me about 5 min. Like you can NOT tell me this man is not a great kisser.

Jake sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes following you as you move around the room, gathering your makeup. He’s got that look on his face—the one where he’s all soft smiles and quiet admiration, like he’s forgotten everything else just watching you. You’re focused, picking out the right shades and brushes.

You sit in front of the mirror, carefully applying the finishing touches to your makeup, with Jake lounging on the edge of your bed behind you. His gaze is a constant warmth on your back, his attention never straying as he watches you get ready. You catch his reflection in the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze makes your heart skip a beat. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, completely engrossed in watching every move you make.

He lets out a low chuckle when you finally glance over and catch him staring. “What?” he says, smiling, feigning innocence as if he hasn’t been studying you with those warm eyes for the past few minutes.

“You’re staring,” you say, rolling your eyes with a smile. “Am I that interesting?”

“More than interesting,” he replies, his voice soft and a little rough.

The words are simple, but it makes your cheeks heat up.

When you finally lift the tube of lipstick, you notice how his gaze sharpens, honing in on the way you tilt your head slightly, how your lips part just so as you begin to apply it. You can almost feel the way his eyes follow each slow swipe of color, his head tilting a fraction as if he’s studying each detail with the precision of an artist. You notice him licking his lips, that subtle pull of his bottom lip between his teeth, as he watches you swipe the color along your own lips.

You can’t resist a smile as you meet his gaze in the mirror. “Jake,” you tease, “I’m never gonna finish if you keep staring like that.”

He grins, not even trying to pretend he’s not completely captivated. “I can’t help it. You look… well, it’s hard to look away.”

His words make your cheeks warm, but you do your best to stay focused as you finish up. “I’ll be done in a sec, and then I’ll come over. Just let me finish this, okay?”

Jake chuckles, low and easy, but you notice he doesn’t back off at all. Instead, he stands up and takes a few slow steps toward you, his hands sliding casually into his pockets as he watches you finish up. He’s close enough now that you catch the glint in his eye, the way his gaze dips to your lips every few seconds as you press them together to blend the lipstick.

“Seriously,” you murmur with a playful smile, turning to face him, “you’re worse than a distraction.”

Before you can say more, his hands find your waist, and he pulls you gently to your feet and into his arms. He’s warm, solid, and smiling in that way that tells you he’s enjoying every second of this. You gasp in surprise as he settles down in the chair himself, effortlessly guiding you onto his lap as his hands hold you close. The laughter in his eyes softens as he looks up at you, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your waist.

“Jake!” you exclaim with a halfhearted pout, though you make no move to leave his lap. “You’re gonna ruin all my hard work.”

He just grins, undeterred. “So? You can always put more on.” His tone is soft and playful, but his eyes are dark, his voice dropping to a lower register that sends a thrill through you. “But I don’t think I can wait another second without kissing you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he’s already leaning in, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as his lips find yours. The kiss is soft, but it doesn’t stay that way for long—there’s a familiar urgency to it as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss, letting it linger until you forget about your makeup entirely. His thumb brushes along your cheek, and you lean into him, your fingers sliding up to curl in his hair, pulling him even closer.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you can’t help but laugh at the sight of him. There’s a distinct smear of your lipstick marking his mouth, bright against his skin.

“Now look what what happened,” you tease, tracing a finger along the faint lipstick mark left on his lips.

Jake chuckles, entirely unbothered as he shrugs. “I don’t mind if it means I get to kiss you.” He leans in again, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing over your cheek as he continues in a low murmur, “Besides, I think I wear this color well.”

You let out a laugh, playfully wiping at his lips even though he makes no move to stop you. “I’m holding you responsible if I have to redo all of this, you know.”

“I’ll buy you another tube,” he says easily, his arms wrapping around you a little tighter. He pulls you closer, his lips moving to your jaw, trailing kisses down to your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “Or… I could just keep you here with me. Not sure I’m ready to let you go anywhere yet.”

You sigh, but it’s playful, knowing full well you’re not going to resist him. “If you keep this up, I’m really going to have to start all over.”

“Fine by me,” he whispers against your skin, the soft brush of his lips sending a shiver down your spine. “Gives me more time to admire you.” He leans in, his lips meeting yours in another kiss, smearing even more of your lipstick as the kiss deepens.

You can't help but smile against his lips, the kiss is intense, a perfect blend of gentleness and urgency.

As you pull back, slightly breathless, Jake offers you the tube with a playful smile. "Here, put it on again," he says.

You take the lipstick, a little hazy from the passion of the moment, and begin to reapply it, your movements slow. Jake watches you, his eyes filled with admiration and desire.

Once you've finished, he reaches out and gently grabs the back of your neck, pulling you closer. His eyes meet yours, his lips finding yours once more.

When you pull back for a breath, Jake doesn't let you go. Instead, he trails kisses down your neck, his lips moving from your jawline to the sensitive skin of your collarbone.

Jake's hands roam over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist and hips, as if memorizing every inch of you.

You can feel his breath against your neck, hot and heavy, as he takes the lipstick from your hand and holds it out to you once more. "One more time baby," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I want to make sure it's perfect."

You giggle, a little hazy from the passion of the moment, and take the lipstick, reapplying it.

When you finish, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in another kiss. This time, he whines softly against your lips, his breath warm and intoxicating. The sound of his whining sends a shiver down your spine, adding an extra layer of intensity to the kiss. You moan softly, your body responding to his every touch.

"Mhm.. I could kiss you all day," he murmurs, his voice husky.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Wait, let's fix that lipstick again," he says, pointing at your lips with a playful grin.

You giggle, and take the lipstick again, reapplying it.

Jake watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. He leans in, his breath warm against your neck, and whispers, "You know, I could watch you do that all day. It's like a work of art."

As you finish reapplying the lipstick, he reaches out and gently cups your face in his hands. "Now, let's continue where we left off," he said.

After reapplying your lipstick for what feels like the fifth time, you finally manage to pull yourself away from Jake, though it’s no easy feat. His hands had been gentle but persistent, holding you close each time you tried to move. Your lips are still tingling, slightly sore, and you can feel the warmth lingering on your cheeks and neck from where his hands had cupped your face.

The clock catches your eye, and you wince—realizing you’re way past the time you were supposed to leave.

Jake, on the other hand, looks anything but concerned about the time - utterly content, with a dazed, love-drunk expression on his face. His hair is tousled, and he’s still catching his breath, gazing at you through half-lidded eyes that are filled with a lazy, affectionate warmth. Smears of lipstick cover his face, dotting his cheeks, chin, and jawline in soft red marks that match the color of your lips. You even see a faint outline of your lips on his neck, just above the collar of his now slightly wrinkled white shirt. The pristine fabric is no longer spotless; your lipstick has left faded, pinkish stains around the collar and down the top button.

Jake reaches up and touches one of the lipstick smudges on his cheek, as if to savor the traces of you left behind, before letting it fall back to his side. He lets out a contented, slightly drowsy hum, a soft smile spreading across his lips as he mumbles, almost to himself, “You’re… so beautiful…”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, feeling your own lips twitch into a smile despite your best efforts to stay focused. “Jake, I’m actually going to be so late,” you murmur, gathering your things, but even as you say it, you can’t resist glancing back at him again, taking in the mess you’ve left him in.

He looks completely kiss-drunk, staring at you with that same sleepy, adoring expression, like he’s half lost in a daydream. “Late?” he murmurs, sounding only mildly aware of what you’re saying. His voice is low, lazy, and rough around the edges, the kind of tone that makes you almost forget your hurry all over again. He reaches out a hand toward you, his fingertips brushing the air as if he can’t bear for you to leave.

“Mm-hmm,” he continues, his eyes trailing over you, taking in every little detail as if he’s memorizing it. “The most beautiful girlfriend… yeah… so beautiful…”

His words are soft, murmured almost to himself as he gazes at you, clearly more than a little love-struck. His gaze drops to your lips, and he grins as he sees the lipstick you’ve reapplied, his eyes darkening slightly with that familiar gleam. It’s enough to make you hesitate at the door, knowing exactly where that look can lead.

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you grab your bag and finally tear yourself away, giving him a playful shake of the head as you do. His gaze never leaves you, that lazy, dreamy smile still playing on his lips, as if he’s too wrapped up in his thoughts of you to notice anything else. Just before you leave, you give him one last glance, taking in the mess of lipstick marks, the warmth in his eyes, and that soft, sleepy grin.

[dorabellingham]

Bath time

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader

summary: when after many football matches, the little boy doesn't want to take a bath

request: yes

may contain spelling and translation errors!

After an intense afternoon of “soccer” in the backyard, little Benjamin was all sweaty, his hair disheveled and his cheeks red from running and laughing so much with Jude. However, when you called him to take a bath, he let out a cry of protest and ran around the room, laughing with all the energy he had left.

—Ben, it’s just a bath, my love!

You called, laughing at your son’s attempt to escape.

—No, mummy! I don’t want to!

Benji replied, his little hands waving in the air as he ran away. He turned a corner and disappeared down the hallway.

Jude, who was watching the scene, crossed his arms and laughed. With an expression of pure amusement, he gave you a knowing look.

—I think today is going to be tough, huh?

—He gets that from you, huh? —You teased, with an arched eyebrow, before bending down and trying to follow your son down the hallway. —Benji, my love, you're all sweaty! You need to take a shower.

You heard a low giggle coming from the guest room and, as you approached, you saw Benji's dark curls peeking through the door. The little boy thought he was very well hidden. You smiled and bent down, looking him in the eyes.

—I found you!

You said, laughing, but before you could reach him, your little boy squealed and took off again, now running towards the living room, where Jude was standing, waiting to help with the capture.

Bellingham looked at his son approaching and pretended to catch him, but gave Ben a chance to escape. The boy ran as fast as he could, laughing loudly, but Jude finally caught him, lifting him in the air while his son struggled, but still laughing.

—Aha! I caught the runaway!

Jude exclaimed, with a triumphant laugh.

—Daddy, no!

Benji screamed, but deep down, he was enjoying the chase. He knew he didn't have much of a chance against his father, but the attempt made it all worth it.

Jude took him to the bathroom, still holding him in the air, while Ben tried his best to get out of his arms, trying hard to push his father away.

—I'm going to tell you a secret, champ... —Jude began, with a mysterious tone. —Did you know that taking a shower makes you even stronger to play soccer?

Benji looked at him with suspicious eyes, still not sure, but the promise of getting "stronger" intrigued him.

—Stronger, daddy? Just like you?

—Just like me!

He answered, shaking his head seriously.

You, who had been watching the conversation with an amused smile, approached and put Benji's little hand in the warm water so he could feel the temperature.

—Look, honey, the water is warm. It'll be quick, and then you can play more.

Ben looked at the water, still looking doubtful, but finally nodded, albeit with a sullen pout. You laughed, knowing he was almost giving in, but still insisted on showing a little resistance.

—Okay, but just a little!

He declared, crossing his arms.

Jude and you helped the little boy into the bathtub and began to soap him up, laughing at the faces he made as they ran the sponge over his arms and legs. He still tried to complain, but he was so tired from the rush that he soon relaxed, letting his parents finish the bath.

At the end, when he was clean and wrapped in a fluffy towel, Benji finally smiled with satisfaction.

—And now, daddy, am I strong?

He asked, his eyes shining.

Jude laughed and ruffled his hair.

—Stronger than ever, baby!

[thatlotuscookie]

ok ok, hear me out, hear me out I swear-

a Haikyuu character who's a teacher(you pick which one bc I am indecisive lol) who students don't like because they assign too much HW, x Art-Teacher y/n who's super eccentric and all the students have started calling "Auntie" bc they like her so much... and somehow the students realize they're dating

✧･ﾟ: a/n: hiii thank you for the req anon! i choseTsukishima Kei x art teacher!fem reader cause why not :) sorry for the wait, it got a little busy. please enjoy and thank you for requestinng <3

✧ Title: ✧ Paintbrushes and Equations ✧ ✧ Characters: Math!TeacherTsukishima Kei x Art Teacher!Reader, Fem!Reader ✧ Genre: Fluff, Romance, Slice of Life ✧ Rating: G ✧ Summary: Mr. Tsukishima Kei, the strict math teacher known for his tough assignments, and Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher adored by students, try to keep their budding relationship under wraps. But between secret coffee runs and after-school visits, it doesn’t take long for their students to catch on. ✧ Content/Tags: Secret Relationship, Soft Tsukishima, Teacher AU, Slow-burn Romance, Fluff and Humor ✧ WC: 1126 words // 6.8k chars

Mr. Tsukishima Kei was known as the strict, no-nonsense math teacher, infamous for assigning challenging homework and expecting punctuality from his students. Across the hall, however, was Ms. Y/N, the quirky art teacher who taught in a classroom full of painted murals, plants, and knick-knacks. Her students affectionately called her “Auntie,” loving her warm personality and encouraging nature.

Despite their differences, the two had quietly been dating for some time now, keeping things subtle so as not to spark gossip in the school hallways. But as careful as they tried to be, some moments were just too sweet to hide from their observant students.

Every morning, Tsukishima would stop by Y/N’s room before classes started. Though their relationship was mostly kept under wraps, there was one routine they couldn’t help but share—he’d bring her coffee, just the way she liked it, and stay for a few moments before his first class.

One particular morning, a student passing by happened to catch sight of them. Y/N was sitting at her desk, fiddling with paintbrushes while Tsukishima leaned against the edge of her desk, coffee cup in hand. She looked up at him with a bright smile as he handed her the coffee.

“Thank you, Kei! You know, I think your coffee runs are the best part of my day.”

“Maybe if you went to bed at a reasonable hour, you wouldn’t need this much caffeine,” he replied, rolling his eyes, though there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Bedtime? Reasonable? You’re talking to an artist, Kei!” She chuckled, raising her coffee cup in mock cheers.

The student who’d witnessed it ran back to their friends, spilling the details in hushed, excited whispers. “Guys, Auntie totally has Mr. Tsukishima wrapped around her finger. He’s bringing her coffee like it’s a daily thing!”

During lunch breaks, Tsukishima would sometimes slip away from the teachers’ lounge and make his way to Y/N’s art room, which was usually open to students who wanted to work on projects or just hang out with their favorite teacher. Though he’d never admit it out loud, Tsukishima was growing fond of this habit too.

One afternoon, Y/N was holding a brush in each hand, struggling to finish a mural one of her classes had started. Tsukishima approached, watching her for a moment as she fumbled with paint colors.

“Need a hand?” he asked, taking one of the brushes out of her grasp without waiting for an answer. He began painting in neat, deliberate strokes, adding to the vibrant, playful mural.

“Mr. Tsukishima,” Y/N grinned, “are you sure you can handle all this color?”

He just shrugged, pretending to be annoyed, but there was a glint in his eye. “It’s not my fault you’re terrible at ladders.”

The students present watched with wide eyes as their usually stern math teacher helped their beloved art teacher, even taking her playful teasing without so much as a sigh. “Is he… actually smiling?” one student whispered, amazed. “And helping her paint? They’re definitely dating.”

On Fridays, Y/N would stay late to finish up art projects, often leaving well after most of the other teachers had already gone home. But one evening, as she was cleaning up her brushes, she was startled by a familiar voice at the door.

“Didn’t I tell you not to stay this late alone?” Tsukishima’s tone was gentle, though there was a hint of concern.

“Oh, but I had just one more layer of glaze to apply! I didn’t want to leave it unfinished,” she replied, smiling sheepishly.

Tsukishima sighed and moved to take some of the supplies from her hands, setting them aside. “That can wait. You shouldn’t be here by yourself. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

They left together, but not before another student, leaving basketball practice, caught sight of them walking side by side down the hallway, Tsukishima’s hand brushing hers in a quiet, comforting gesture.

“Did you see that?” the student whispered to a friend the next day. “Mr. Tsukishima totally waited for Auntie after school. He’s such a softie for her.”

When Field Day rolled around, Y/N was the designated supervisor for the art activities station. Her students flocked to her booth, excited to paint, tie-dye, and get a break from competitive games. Tsukishima, though not usually one for field activities, had somehow found himself “volunteered” to help out at her station by none other than Y/N herself.

At first, he’d tried to stay in the background, sorting supplies and ensuring everything was organized. But as more students lined up, Y/N pulled him over to assist with face painting. “Come on, Kei, it’s fun! Don’t be so serious,” she teased, handing him a paintbrush.

He gave her a long-suffering look but, after a few convincing nudges, gave in. Soon, students were giggling at the sight of Mr. Tsukishima painting bright flowers and animals on their cheeks.

“Mr. Tsukishima, can you paint a dragon?” one student asked, grinning. And to everyone’s surprise, Tsukishima nodded, actually putting in the effort to paint a rather impressive dragon.

Meanwhile, Y/N leaned in close, watching him with a proud smile. “See? I knew you had a colorful side.”

The students at the booth exchanged knowing looks, watching the way Tsukishima’s gaze softened every time he looked at Y/N. One bold student whispered, “They’re definitely together. I think Auntie’s the only person who could get him to paint a dragon.”

The biggest reveal came on Y/N’s birthday. Her classroom was decorated with student-made banners, handmade cards, and small, thoughtful gifts from her students. But the real surprise came when Tsukishima walked in with a bouquet of wildflowers, which he set on her desk, much to the shock of her students.

“Kei…” Y/N murmured, her eyes shining with surprise. “You didn’t have to—”

“Happy Birthday, Auntie,” he said simply, giving her a small, genuine smile before glancing pointedly at the students, who were watching, open-mouthed. He gave them his usual glare but, seeing the excitement in their eyes, eventually gave up on hiding it.

And with that, the students finally had their confirmation. They all whispered to each other excitedly, some even daring to give Tsukishima approving thumbs-up. From that day on, Tsukishima’s “monster math teacher” title softened in their eyes. He was still strict and demanding, but he was also the teacher who went out of his way to make their “Auntie” happy.

As the weeks went by, more little moments started to unfold between them—moments the students watched eagerly, as if they were witnessing a real-life romance. And while Tsukishima might not have been the most affectionate in public, he showed his care in small, steady ways, making sure Y/N was looked after and supported in the little things.

[eu-nicola]

the finish line part 4

and final - part 1 part 2 part 3

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 4264

author's note: english is not my first language

tags: @a-beaverhausen @maluzets55

The last few days of vacation had been anything but peaceful. It wasn't just Max's attention that weighed on you, but also the curious glances of others. Every time you went out, whether alone or in company, you felt like everyone was watching you, as if they suspected something beyond what was evident. Although you tried to remain indifferent, the pressure was beginning to affect you.

Max, for his part, seemed to handle everything with the same confidence with which he drove on the track. However, not even he could escape the public eye. When the vacation finally ended and the drivers returned to their routines, the questions at the press conferences began to take on a more personal tone. Instead of focusing solely on his recent championship, the journalists wanted to know more about his life off the track.

"Max, after your victory, you were seen celebrating intensely. Can you tell us more about that?" asked one of the reporters with an insinuating smile.

Max, sitting with his usual confident expression, just raised an eyebrow. “I celebrated like any champion would. It was a special moment for me and my team. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

The answer was direct, but not enough to divert attention. Another journalist intervened, this time with an even more incisive tone.

“There has been a lot of talk about a certain company during those celebrations. Any statement on that?”

Max smiled, although his eyes showed a glint of irritation. “My private life is just that: private. I’m here to talk about racing, not rumors.”

While Max dealt with the media pressure, you faced your own battles. Social media had become a minefield. Comments about you began to appear, some insinuating that you were too close to Max, others criticizing you for not always being by Lando’s side at the most important moments. There were those who said you were seeking attention, that you liked drama. The words hurt more than you wanted to admit. You tried to ignore them, but it was hard when every time you opened your phone there was something new waiting for you.

Lando, oddly enough, seemed to enjoy it all from a distance. Even though he had been your boyfriend for so long, his attitude was almost indifferent.

“What did you expect?” he said to you one night while you were talking on the phone because he had called you. “You’re in the public eye now. This is what happens. You should get used to it.”

His tone was so carefree that it infuriated you. Get used to it? To people questioning your loyalty, your feelings? While you dealt with the pressure, he seemed to enjoy his freedom, attending events and meetings without worrying about what they said about him.

“You know what, Lando? It would be easier if you at least seemed to care a little because you caused all of this,” you finally blurted out, your voice thick with frustration.

“I do,” he replied with a sigh. “But I also know that you can’t control what people say.”

The conversation ended, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Max, on the other hand, seemed ever-present, even if it was silent. You knew that if you texted him, he would respond immediately. But after everything that had happened, you resisted.

One afternoon, though, after a particularly rough day on social media, your phone buzzed with a message from him.

“How are you? I’ve seen what’s going on online. Don’t let it get to you. People always have something to say.”

His message was simple, but comforting. For a moment, you felt like you weren’t alone in all of this, that someone actually understood what you were going through.

The days followed, each bringing their own set of challenges. You tried to focus on your own things, but it was impossible to completely escape the whirlwind that had formed around you.

The weight of exposure began to become more than just an inconvenience; it felt like a constant burden you couldn’t let go of. Every time you opened your phone, every notification, every comment, every message seemed to add a new layer of self-doubt and anxiety. No matter how hard you tried to focus on your own life, your own projects, the shadow of social media and criticism was still there, haunting you.

One night, as you sat on the bed in your hotel room in Spain, you stared at your reflection in the dead screen of your phone. How had you gotten to this point? What had once been exciting—standing next to one of Formula 1’s most promising drivers—now felt like endless exposure to judgment and misunderstanding. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to breathe deeply, but even the air felt heavy.

You and Lando had officially broken up a few weeks ago. It had been an inevitable breakup, a step you both knew you had to take. There were no big arguments, no shouting, just a mutual recognition that things were no longer the same. Lando, for his part, seemed to have moved on without looking back. His social media showed photos of him at events, smiling with friends, enjoying his uncomplicated life. And you... you felt trapped in limbo.

Your relationship with Max, on the other hand, was in uncertain territory. There were no clear words, no labels that could define what you had, but there was something palpable between you both. Every message from him, every look, every conversation was imbued with a latent tension, a connection that seemed to go beyond the physical. You were on the verge of something, and you both knew it.

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, breaking the silence of the room. You took it without looking, half expecting another critical message or a sensational article, but seeing Max's name on the screen, something in your chest momentarily eased.

Max: "Are you okay? I saw Lando uploaded something new, but he didn't mention anything about you. Do you need to talk?"

For a moment, you stared at the message. How did he always know when you were at your limit? You didn't know if it made you happy or upset. With shaking fingers, you started to type a reply, but you deleted the words before sending them. You didn't want to seem weak, even though deep down you knew Max was probably the only person at the moment who could understand what you were going through.

Minutes later, another message came through.

Max: "I'm here if you need to vent. You don't have to carry it all alone."

That simple statement broke down your defenses. You felt tears build up in your eyes, but you refused to let them out. You had endured so much, trying to be strong, but the emotional exhaustion was too much. You finally wrote:

You: “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Max. It all feels too much… The pressure, the comments, the exposure. Sometimes I feel like I’m falling apart.”

Max’s response was not long in coming.

Max: “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You’re stronger than you think, but I understand that this is all a lot. I want to see you. Let me help you carry this.”

Your heart was pounding as you read his words. There was something about his way of saying things that always managed to calm the storm inside you. The thought of seeing him, of being able to talk face to face, felt like a necessary balm. But there was also fear. Fear of what it would mean to take that step, to cross a line that already seemed so tenuous.

After a long silence, you finally wrote:

You: “I’m not ready for everything that comes with this, Max. But I want to see you too."

A little while later, you received a call. It was him. You hesitated for a moment before answering, but finally swiped your finger across the screen.

"I knew you would answer," Max said in his calm, confident tone. "I'm going to Spain this weekend. Because of you."

"Max, I don't know if that's a good idea," you whispered, though your voice betrayed your true feelings.

“It is,” he replied without hesitation. “Because this isn’t just pressure or exposure. It’s about us, about who we are when no one else is looking.”

His words resonated with you. Maybe you didn’t have to face it all alone after all.

The weekend came quicker than you expected. Max had kept his word and was in Spain, ready to see you. The first time you met him was in the lobby of your hotel. He was dressed in his usual laid-back style: a simple t-shirt and jeans, but there was something about his presence that always managed to capture your full attention.

When his blue eyes met yours, the air seemed to stand still for a moment. Max walked toward you with a determined stride, without any hesitation. Before you could say anything, he wrapped you in a firm hug, one that offered not only comfort, but also a silent promise: You are not alone.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice deep but gentle. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You stayed in his arms for what seemed like an eternity. All the weight you had been carrying, all the pressure, slowly began to fade away. When you finally pulled away, Max looked at you with an intensity that made you feel seen, completely.

“Max…” you began, but he shook his head before you could continue.

“I don’t want you to worry anymore about what people say. We don’t owe them anything,” he stated, his tone firm. “Let me carry some of this burden with you. I won’t let outside pressure get to us, I won’t let this tear us apart.”

The determination in his voice made you feel a strange mix of relief and apprehension. You had been so used to dealing with everything alone that the idea of ​​allowing someone else to carry some of your worries seemed almost foreign to you. But Max wasn’t just anyone. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he was present, that gave you a security you didn’t even know you needed.

“What if we can’t handle it?” You asked, letting out one of your biggest insecurities.

Max took your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours. “We can,” he replied with unwavering conviction. “Do you know how many times I’ve been told I couldn’t accomplish something? Every time I’ve gotten in the car, I’ve had to prove them wrong. This is no different. We’re no different.”

His words stayed with you, offering a hope you hadn’t allowed to blossom until now. The idea of ​​facing all of this with him, together, suddenly didn’t seem so impossible.

For the rest of the day, Max remained by your side. Every time you saw a phone being raised to take a photo or heard a murmur as you passed, Max squeezed your hand lightly, as if reminding you that it didn’t matter what the world thought. He was there, with you.

That night, as you both sat in your room, Max leaned back on the couch, watching you with a calm smile.

"You know, as much as I love winning championships, being here with you feels like a different victory," he said, his tone lighter now.

“I didn’t know you had such a romantic side,” you joked, trying to lighten the tension in your chest.

“Only for you,” he replied, his gaze sincere. “And if you let me, I’ll prove it to you every day.”

You couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

Days had turned into weeks, and your relationship with Max seemed to grow deeper with every moment shared. He was your refuge, your calm in the midst of the storm that continued to rage on social media and in the media. Yet as hard as you tried to stay strong, the persistent criticism was beginning to wear you down. Every article speculating about your life, every cruel comment you unintentionally encountered, made you feel more vulnerable.

The stress was building up. There were nights when you could barely sleep, your mind stuck in an endless cycle of questions and doubts. Was it all worth it? Could you continue to face constant scrutiny? Even though Max was doing his best to reassure you that you were in this together, a part of you was starting to wonder if it would be better for both of you if you stepped away.

One night, after a long day where Max had had multiple media engagements, you found yourself alone in the hotel room in Bahrain where you had flown to join him. The city lights shone through the windows, but they offered no comfort. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you stared at your phone. Notifications kept coming in: messages, social media mentions, articles with sensational headlines.

You sighed and turned off the screen, setting the phone aside. You couldn’t go on like this.

When Max returned, the first thing he noticed was your expression. He immediately came over, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You looked up at him, and in that moment, the words began to come out unfiltered. “I don’t know if I can go through with this, Max. The pressure, the media, the comments… It feels like I’m losing control of my life.”

He frowned, his eyes reflecting both understanding and frustration. “I knew this was hard for you, but you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here, and you know that.”

“I know, Max,” you replied, a lump in your throat. “But I can’t help but feel like by being with you, I’m only making things worse. I don’t want to be a burden on you, or your career.”

Max took your hands, his grip firm but comforting. “You’ll never be a burden on me. And if you think walking away will solve anything, you’re wrong. People will always talk, no matter what we do.”

“What if I decide to walk away?” you asked quietly, fearing his reaction.

Max took a deep breath, processing your words. “If that’s what you need to feel better, I’ll respect that,” he finally said, though his voice betrayed his internal struggle. “But I want you to know that I’d rather face this hell with you, than be without you.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. He always found a way to break down your defenses. But the doubt was still there, fueled by fear and insecurity.

That night, as Max slept beside you, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The decision to walk away wasn’t easy, but perhaps it was the only thing that could bring you some peace. Could you give up what you had to protect yourself? Or could you find a way to endure together, like he wished?

The night progressed slowly and silently. Even though Max slept beside you, you lay awake, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. The dim glow of the city dimly illuminated the room, but offered no comfort. You turned slightly, watching Max's relaxed face as he slept. There was something almost innocent about his expression, a calmness that contrasted with the storm inside you.

You tried to close your eyes, but the weight of your doubts was still present. You didn't know how much time passed before you felt a slight movement beside you. Opening your eyes, you realized that Max was also awake now. His blue eyes, still heavy with sleep, looked at you with a mix of concern and tenderness.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, his tone laden with a care that only he could offer at this hour of the morning.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. Max sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched you closely.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" he insisted, gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You took a deep breath, trying to contain the flood of emotions. But his eyes kept searching you, offering a reassurance that only he could provide. Finally, you decided to speak up.

“Max, I don’t know if I’m cut out for this,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “This whole world, the constant attention. And the last thing I want is for it to affect you, too.”

Max remained silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, he sat up fully, turning to face you.

“You know something?” he began, his tone firmer now. “Ever since I started in this sport, I’ve always been surrounded by people who admire me for what I do on the track. People who celebrate my victories and forget about me as soon as the season is over. But you… you’re different.”

You were surprised by the intensity of his words, and he continued before you could respond.

"You're the only person who truly sees me, beyond the driver, beyond the titles and the races. With you, I can be myself. I don't have to prove anything, I don't have to win to feel like I'm worth something. And that, to me, is everything."

Your heart skipped a beat, and Max moved a little closer, taking your hands in his.

"Without you," he said with an honesty that took your breath away, "this all becomes meaningless. Every time I cross the finish line, every trophy I lift, even before you were with me, before Lando stole you from me... it wouldn't mean anything if you weren't there for me."

The tears you'd been holding back began to fall silently, but Max didn't look away. Instead, he squeezed your hands tighter, as if to assure you that he wasn't going to let you go.

"I need you by my side," he confessed. “Not just because of what we share, but because you are my balance. You are the person who reminds me why I do what I do, and who I really am when everything else shuts down.”

You stayed silent, letting his words sink in. You had underestimated how important you were to him, how much you meant beyond the insecurities and doubts that plagued you. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and honest, made you realize something: you weren’t alone in this. It wasn’t just your struggle; it was both of ours.

“Max…” you began, your voice shaking slightly. “I need you too. But this is all so hard. I don’t want the pressure to destroy us.”

“It won’t,” he replied determinedly. “Together we are stronger. It doesn’t matter what people say, what they think. The only thing that matters is what you and I feel. And I feel like we can handle this. If you’re willing to try, I’m not going to let anything or anyone tear us apart.”

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and hope. Max pulled you close to him, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace. You stayed like that for a long moment, finding comfort in each other's closeness.

The next day was not really just any other day, after weeks of preparation and nerves, the first race of the year was finally here. Nerves ran through the paddock, and the usual bustle of competition filled the air, but there was something different this time. You had come, as always, to support Max, but this time you would do so in an even more visible way, closer to him than ever.

Max, with his relaxed but focused attitude, was ready to prove that, despite the rumors and criticism, nothing could stop him. He had told you about how he wanted to start the season with a win, not just for himself, but also to show the world that he was at his best, that nothing the media said or speculated could tarnish his success. He looked at you before getting into the car, his eyes shining with fierce determination, but also with a special warmth just for you.

The race was action-packed, as you would expect. Max stuck to his strategy, fighting for every position with that mix of precision and bravery that characterized him. Every lap was a mix of excitement and anxiety, not just for him, but for you, who were watching from the pits. You knew how much this victory meant to him, and as you watched him outpace each opponent, the tension took hold of you.

Finally, the checkered flag fell, and Max crossed the finish line in first place. The sound of the engine fading as he celebrated the victory made your heart skip a beat. As soon as the race was over, all eyes turned to him: the champion, the favorite, the icon.

You ran to him as soon as you could see him, where you found him surrounded by his team. You couldn’t help but smile in happiness for him, but also at the feeling that, in that moment, everything that had happened between you had come to this point, to this victory. When Max saw you in the crowd, his face lit up. There were no words needed; he just ran to you, wrapping you in a hug so tight you almost felt like he was lifting you off the ground.

After the anthems and champagne, trophy in hand, Max stepped up to the camera for an interview that was, of course, going to be broadcast live. What happened next surprised everyone. Instead of going on with the typical answers about the race, Max took a moment, with a smile full of pride, to talk about you.

"I want to dedicate this win to someone very special," he began, his words laden with sincerity. "To my amazing partner, who has been with me through the toughest times, when I needed it the most. I want everyone to know that without her, this win wouldn't have the same meaning. She is my support, my strength, and my love."

Your heart was pounding, but what touched you the most was his next statement.

“She’s the person who makes me feel the happiest I’ve ever been, and I can’t imagine my life without her. My love, you’re the love of my life.”

The cameras focused on your face, and even though a torrent of emotions washed over you, you couldn’t help but smile shyly, a little embarrassed by the sudden attention, but deeply grateful for his very public support. Max hadn’t just won a race; he’d done something much bigger: he’d opened his heart in front of millions of people.

The moment became more intense when the crowd applauded, and some began to cheer for you as well. Even though you knew that not all of Max’s fans would be happy with his statement, something in the air had changed. The media had tried to paint you in many ways, but in that instant, it didn’t matter. Max’s victory, the way he had publicly defended you, was a clear message: you were together, no matter what anyone said.

As the days passed, something unexpected happened. Amidst the criticism and speculation, you began to notice a change. The comments started to become kinder. At first, some of Max's most loyal followers were still hesitant, but as time went by, their support for you began to grow. Photos of the two of you, the photos that Max shared of you, in which you looked so happy and peaceful together, began to appear on fans' profiles, and words of support began to outweigh the criticism.

You were surprised to see how many people were willing to embrace your relationship, to understand that behind the image of a successful driver, there was a real person, someone who also had the right to be happy and to love. Some of the fans, even the most skeptical, began to comment positively on the posts, talking about how beautiful you looked together, how genuine your relationship was.

One night, after a race, while you were sharing a quiet moment with Max, you received a message from one of Max's most loyal followers. They said something simple but profound: “We are glad to see you so happy with Max. You deserve all the good that is to come.”

That night, as you went to bed, Max came to you, smiling with that familiar calm, and whispered in your ear: “See? The rumors don’t matter anymore. What really matters is what we have built together.”

And finally, after so much effort, so much sacrifice, you knew that you were both ready to face the future, not just as a couple, but as an unstoppable team. Together. And perhaps in the future, as a family.

[qqueenofhades]

Responsibly got everything ready for the week last night (cleaning, packing lunch, etc.) Angrily and unwillingly got out of bed this morning, made myself four shots of espresso while grumbling about it, and got the bus in as usual. Went to my last week of Monday class before winter break and listened to other smart people discuss this goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation and was relieved that their take on things was more or less like mine, including the next steps forward. It was heartening and it helped.

Answered work emails. Planned out my two final papers and sorted useful readings into piles. Went to the grocery store. Finished my online passport renewal. Came home and called my dad. Decided I'm going to enjoy the holidays this year, and am looking forward to seeing my family in a few weeks for Thanksgiving. Cooked a tasty dinner and watched some comfort TV and made my lunch for tomorrow. We have department meetings. It seems reassuringly normal.

Which is just to say, I'm proud of the ordinary things I did today and if you did them too (and even if you didn't) I'm proud of you. Small steps, & etcetera.

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 4 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - (Y/n) begins to notice Art suddenly growing more distant and she spirals into insecurity and concern. He reassures her and opens up about what has been occurring, but the events to follow will forever change the course of their lives together.

Notes - Y’all it’s here!! Definitely finished sooner than I thought, crazy what motivation does to someone lol. This is probably my favorite of all of the works I’ve done for Art and I’m so excited to bring you all on this journey! Without further ado, enjoy the show.

Word Count - 7,287

Warning(s): Blood/gore, violence, insecurity, smut, self-harm, suicide/sacrifice (don’t worry)

Song Inspiration -

ZAND - I Spit On Your Grave

Lewis Blisset - Killing Butterflies

(Y/n) entered the work room with a heavy sigh, tearing the fresh newspaper before tossing it into the trash. Art waved at her half-heartedly from where he worked at his bench, not bothering to face her as he focused. 

She set down a small cardboard box on her stool and looked around for a moment. 

“Can I use that knife for a moment?” She asked the clown casually. Art gave her a suspicious side-eye before reluctantly passing her a steak knife. “Thank you.” 

She cut at the tape, opening her new shipment of paint before handing the knife back to him and unpacking the box. 

“Anything crazy happen when I was gone?” She asked, but then quickly answered for him before he could even comprehend the question. “No? Good.” 

Art stared at her in disbelief, expressing a blatant what the fuck as he squinted. He watched as (Y/n) tossed away the box and sighed again as she hung her camera around her neck, his signal to get up. 

The clown put his hands on his hips and gave her a stern look. Her gaze softened and she gave him a gentle smile. 

“I’m okay, I’m just in a bit of a mood.” She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed his cheek, Art simply poking the tip of her nose with an approving nod before grabbing his bag. 

“Man or woman tonight?” (Y/n) questioned as she played with the ruffled fabric at the bottom of his sleeve, eyes focused on the sidewalk they followed. “Or both?” She added and Art pointed at her with a mischievous grin, agreeing. “We should find a couple, but that might be harder to find. Could always just get a man and woman separately and -“ 

Art slapped his free hand over her mouth and they froze, (Y/n) looking up at him expectedly. 

Voices were heard speaking casually in the distance and she followed his gaze, coincidentally spotting a couple walking out of a restaurant. Art grinned mischievously and removed his hand from her mouth, the two of them sharing an eager expression, then simultaneously looking back at the couple before stalking forward. 

Art disappeared into an alleyway while (Y/n) continued to follow the couple from behind them. 

“Excuse me?” She innocently caught their attention. They turned to see her, the man more skeptical while the woman was more concerned. “My friend just collapsed, I think she blacked out, but I’m not sure and I don’t know what to do.” (Y/n) panicked, fidgeting with her hands. 

“Sure thing hun, where is she?” The woman politely pressed further. 

“She’s just over here.” (Y/n) motioned to the alleyway not far from them. The woman stepped forward to follow her, the man hesitating before shaking his head and following reluctantly. 

As they turned into the alleyway, (Y/n) slowed to stand behind them as they wandered further, looking into the seemingly empty space. The woman turned to question (Y/n) when a loud thud sounded as a plank rammed against her head, sending her into the brick wall. 

The man shouted as he watched her fall, his gaze then trailing to trace the figure of the monochromatic clown that stood menacingly in front of him. The man gasped and quickly spun around to leave, only to come face to face with (Y/n) who casually leaned against the wall. She raised her hand, wiggling her fingers at him in a wave before ramming his skull into the wall, his body collapsing next to his partner. 

Art laughed wildly with glee in her participation, dropping the board and clapping his hands. He turned to his bag as (Y/n) lifted her camera, adjusting it then snapping a couple of photos as the couple groaned in pain together. 

When Art stood straight once more, she turned her back to them and leaned against the wall again, watching the street while she patiently waited. 

After long, Art tapped her on the shoulder and presented the now mangled pair, (Y/n) tilting her head in thought. After minor deliberation, Art propped them up against the wall to sit next to each other, leaning against the other with the woman’s head on the man’s shoulder. 

(Y/n) crouched, catching different angles and lighting while Art watched her work, taking in her form and focus with admiration. He caught the sound of new voices, head snapping as his smile dropped ever so slightly before stepping towards the opening of the alleyway. 

He reached the entrance, peeking his head out and looking both ways. He caught sight of a trio of teenagers, two brunettes and a blonde as they giggled. His eyes squinted when the shorter brunette turned her face more into his view, rage subtly beginning to simmer as his eyes glimmered in recognition. 

“What’s the matter?” (Y/n) asked when she stepped beside him, following his line of sight to see the same three girls. “You want them too?” She furrowed her brow when he didn’t acknowledge her. “Art?” 

He finally broke away from them and looked over at her, waving his hand off in dismissal. 

“Let’s get going, then.” She watched as he cast the disappearing girls one last look before turning to grab his bag, then took her hand as he came up to her and began their walk back home. (Y/n) looked back at the group one last time with suspicion.

As the two of them laid in their bed, (Y/n) couldn’t help but remember Art’s strange behavior earlier. She tried to focus on his steady breathing and the beat of his heart, his fingers that mindlessly caressed her shoulder. But it couldn’t distract her enough to brush it off. 

She felt Art tap her shoulder, feeling the unsteady rhythm of her heart that contrasted his own. (Y/n) looked up at him and he tilted his head at her in a silent question. 

She took a deep breath and sighed. “What was that earlier? With those girls?” 

Art’s lips twitched, then he waved his hand as if to say it was nothing. 

“You’ve never done that before.” (Y/n) pressed. Art frowned and a firm finger raised, warning her to not worry. She laid her head back down on his chest in defeat and he rubbed her shoulder, soothing her to help her fall asleep. 

(Y/n) stood in darkness. A void. Surrounded by nothing. She turned to see the silhouette of what seemed to be the shorter brunette from the trio, a nauseous feeling settling in (Y/n)’s stomach as tears welled up in her eyes. 

As she felt one trickle down her cheek, a hand cradled her chin and turned her head to face them. She was met with the beautiful green eyes of her infamous clown, falling into a trance as her legs began to lose feeling, jellifying under his piercing gaze. 

But when she reached up to his face, he disappeared. 

Her eyes fluttered open, the spot next to her on the bed cold and empty. Her eyes looked towards the boarded window, seeing no light shining through. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, checking the time. 

3:47.

(Y/n) stood with a sigh and rubbed at her tired eyes, sluggishly walking towards the door and leaving the room in search of Art. She entered the work room, expecting to find him sitting at his bench. But there was no sign of him. 

She checked the other rooms they rarely used, thinking he might’ve been in a more sporadic mood. But again, no sign. 

She meandered back over to her door when the entrance of the building opened and in walked the man in question, though without his bag and without more blood than she had fallen asleep to. 

He paused in the doorway, staring at her with his usual grin and she felt a pang in her chest, looking him up and down before disappearing back into her room without further acknowledgement.

Art cocked his head back in confusion, smile faltering at her behavior. He thought about following her, comforting her or cheering her up in some way. But he decided against it and made his way to his bench. 

She felt another pang in her chest when she heard him begin to hammer away, hoping that he would join her. 

Her mind raced, jumping to conclusion after conclusion.

Something wasn’t right, that much was evident. It didn’t start until he saw the group of girls. He wasn’t bothered, no. She knew him well enough to know that. 

No, what she saw in his eyes was determination. Sadistic, violent determination that worried her more than it should have. So much so that an uneasy feeling began to settle in her stomach. A feeling she hadn’t felt during the nearly full year they had been together. 

Uncertainty. 

During her turmoil, she fell back asleep, exhausted from the events of the night and her unfiltered thoughts. 

When she awoke the next day, the sun was up as rays showed between the boards. (Y/n) stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, mind quiet as she slowly blinked. 

Eventually, she stood and changed into a different outfit, sighing as she adjusted her clothes and finished getting ready before walking out towards the work room. 

Her spirits lifted when she saw Art’s back to her at his bench this time, toying with one of his creations. She shuffled behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso and feeling him relax beneath her. One of his hands reached down to pat her forearm, settling on top of it as he felt her cheek press against his back. 

“Missed you last night.” (Y/n) mumbled against him and his finger caressed her wrist in acknowledgment. 

She finally let go and stepped to stand beside him, kissing his cheek then sitting on her stool.

“Sharpening?” (Y/n) asked as he ran one of his knives along a metal rod and nodded. “Getting ready for something special, then?” She continued and yawned. 

Art nodded again, slower as he was deep in thought. He tossed the knife back into his bag sat beside him and stood, (Y/n)’s eyes following him curiously as he twisted the opening into a handle and slung it over his shoulder. 

“We’re going out during the day?” 

Art shook his head, slicing his hand across the air to tell her no. He pointed at her and made the motion again and her eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“You don’t want me to go…?” 

Art’s eyes widened at the evident pain in her voice, waving his hand in front of him and shaking his head more vigorously in a panic to console her. 

“Then why shouldn’t I go?” She stood and her voice raised a little, the rate of her heart beginning to pick up. 

Art motioned for her to calm down and take a deep breath, pointing between the two of them and giving her an ok symbol. He rested his free hand on her shoulder and bent down to kiss her nose, walking backwards towards the exit and giving her a thumbs up for reassurance. 

As (Y/n) heard the door close, she began to hyperventilate as her mind raced with thoughts she never imagined were possible being with Art. 

Why didn’t he want her with him? Was there someone else? Was he growing tired of her?

The image of the girl from her dream, manifesting from the trio they saw that night entered her mind. 

Tears pricked at her eyes and she breathed heavily, pacing the room that now felt colder than usual and empty. A choked sob slipped past her lips and she covered her mouth. 

“No…” (Y/n) denied the possibility of him cheating on her. How could someone so simple take his attention away from her? From the relationship they had built together for so long? 

Unless the girl wasn’t as simple as she thought.

“No, no, no -“ She repeated to herself in desperation, and fell to her knees, arms wrapping around herself in false comfort. 

She cried, the dam she so proudly held finally breaking as everything came crashing down onto her in that moment. She crawled across the floor to lean back against the wall, head tilted back as she continued, looking up at the ceiling helplessly. 

After some time, her throat grew raw and her cries died down to sniffling and shaky breaths. She finally looked down from the ceiling to the concrete floor, catching a glimmer of something out of the corner of her eyes. 

She turned her head to see a simple kitchen knife laying a few feet away, taunting her as the blade shined beneath the single bulb hanging from the center of the dull room. 

(Y/n) stared at it for a few moments, a defeated sob working its way out of her throat as she slowly reached for it. She simply looked at it as she held it in her lap, contemplating. 

Her breathing grew labored, trembling as she slowly rolled up the sleeve of her left arm. The blade was lifted to the skin, just barely grazing the surface when she heard the front door open and she yanked it away, standing up in a rush. 

Her heart raced when she heard familiar footsteps grow closer, closer until the clown entered, bag nowhere to be seen. He looked around for a moment, eyes squinted in observation before he spotted her.

His grin immediately dropped at the sight before him. Her sleeve was up, blade in her other hand and shaking in her grasp. What disturbed him more than the blade was the raw emotion in her eyes. Emotions he would typically drink in with pleasure. 

Panic, fear. Pain. 

(Y/n) froze, unsure of what was going through his head, the sight of his frown unsettling in that moment. She took a step forward, face set in determination. 

“Who is she?” She choked out. No response. “Who is she!” (Y/n) shouted, breaking. 

Art slowly shook his head, forgetting about his theatrics with her state and stepping closer to her. 

“Who is she to be more deserving of your attention?” Tears began to flow down her cheeks once more. “What does she offer that I don’t?” Her voice cracked. 

Art simply stood, unmoving as he took in her words. 

“Answer me!” She screamed desperately.

He watched as (Y/n) looked down in defeat, then at her arm, then slowly back up at him. And Art noticed the familiar look of determination. The one he himself was so well acquainted with. 

Before he could understand what was happening, she quickly ran the blade across her inner forearm, effectively slicing the skin as red began to flow down in gentle streams and drip onto the floor. 

Art lurched forward and snatched the blade from her hand, tossing it to the side as it clattered onto the floor. He gritted his teeth at her, frustrated as she stared at him with tear-stained cheeks. He looked down at the wound she inflicted, observing the damage. 

It wasn’t deep enough to cause fatal harm, but it was a decent gash that would take some time to heal. He pressed the sleeve of his own forearm against it, soaking the blood and adding pressure to prevent further bleeding. 

He frowned as he looked back at her after hearing a sob, shaking his head at her in disappointment.    

“Please don’t leave me…” His brow furrowed. “I’ll do anything.” She whispered desperately and his expression softened in realization. “Please…” She watched as his gaze pierced through her and felt a strange pressure in her head, followed by an odd sense of comfort and adoration. 

Art suddenly leaned in and their lips met in sweet, demented unison. He tasted the salt of her tears, as did she as pressure was added to their kiss and she was flooded with overwhelming emotion. 

Her uninjured arm desperately reached up around his neck, bringing him impossibly closer as she stood on her toes. His own free arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into him, then he suddenly lifted her up bridally. 

(Y/n) gripped onto him as if her life depended on it, burying her face in his neck as he brought them to her room and placed her on the bed, hovering over her. 

Their lips met once more and they desperately clawed at each other, eager to prove that the other was real. Art moved down to her neck, biting and sucking harshly as she jumped and breathed heavily for an alternate reason. 

His hands bruisingly gripped her waist as he ground himself into her, taking in her harmonious hums of pleasure. His hands slipped beneath her shirt, raising it to reveal the skin beneath until it was pulled over her head, mindful of her cut that he continued to press dry every now and then. 

His teeth dragged down her neck, in between her breasts, gloved hands desperately kneading them through her bra and growing frustrated with the fabric. He reached under her and toyed with the clip, eventually unclamping it and tugging it off before he returned to her breasts to continue his mannerisms. 

She sighed as his mouth aggressively latched on to one of her nipples, toying with it and rubbing himself on her thigh that he straddled. (Y/n) yelped when he bit down particularly hard, her thigh meeting his erect member and his head leaned back, eyes closed and mouth open at the unexpected pressure. 

Art licked down her stomach, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake and tugged off her pants and underwear impatiently, breathing hotly against her core. He grit his teeth in anticipation, looking up at her as she gazed at him with hooded eyes, hand reaching down to grasp at his shoulder. 

He then leaned in and began to ravage her pussy, dragging out a moan from her as her head dug into the pillow beneath her. His movements were erratic and desperate, fingers digging into her thighs and kneading them as he rocked his hips into the mattress. 

Her hips lifted to meet his tongue, practically grinding into his mouth and his chest rumbled in approval, growling noiselessly as he let her use him for herself. 

As her pitch and volume heightened, he focused on bringing her to the brink of her orgasm, hands roaming up and down her figure. 

Just as she neared the edge, he pulled away and she sighed, looking down at him with a pleading expression. Art looked up at her and crawled his way up the length of her body with an animalistic bearing, biting at her bottom lip and delving in to taste her lips once more. 

(Y/n) reached around to undo his zipper, pulling it down and sliding the fabric of his suit off of his shoulders as he took over to bring it down the rest of the way until his erection was freed. 

Their teeth clashed as he rubbed his tip against her center, using his hand to rub the moisture over the rest of his heavy cock. She whined as she felt him poke at her, sighing when his hips rolled and his member slipped past her folds and buried itself into her. 

Art wasted no time in waiting, setting a steady rhythm as his mouth worked its way down her neck again, settling on sucking aggressively at the delicate skin. One of his arms reached beneath her, hooking his hand on her shoulder to pull her into him as he thrusted into her. His other pressed against her forearm to block the wound, taking her mind away from the aching pain as his speed increased. 

She cried out in pure bliss, hand resting on the back of his neck and holding him against her as her thighs pulled back. He angled himself upwards, finding the area she loved so sweetly as she nearly screamed into his ear. 

He licked up and down her neck through his grin, pounding into her with newfound aggression as she clung onto him. Her eyes rolled back, closing as her mind grew foggy with intense pleasure. 

With a few more thrusts, she was thrown over the edge and arched her back, pressing herself into him as she rode out her high. Art watched her with lust clouded eyes, thrusts growing sloppy as he chased his own release. She felt him pulse within her and moaned at the sensation, feeling him fill her more than before and looked down at where they met. 

Art huffed silently and pulled out, collapsing next to her with a lazy smile. He looked down at her arm and frowned, giving her a for shame motion with his fingers. (Y/n) met his patronizing gaze with doe eyes, wide and filled with unanswered questions. 

“What are you hiding from me?” She whispered, dreading the answer. 

Art held up a finger, as if to say first. He pointed between the two of them, then waved a careless hand out into the room to show nothing else in the world mattered to him but themselves. 

“Then what is happening? What is so special about that girl?” (Y/n) sat up, invested in what was going on and he followed her up. 

Art pointed to himself, then to the window to represent the girl, then ran a finger across his neck and made an after motion. 

“Why not just kill her and be done with it since you’re so determined?” 

Art shook his head then grinned mischievously. He balled his hands into fists, putting one over the other and slowly twisting. 

“You want to torture her?” Art nodded. “You can’t just do that right before you kill her like everyone else?” Art shook his head again.

He pointed between the window - the girl - and himself, slicing at the air in front of him with his arms then folding them in front of himself like a child throwing a temper. He then pointed back at the window, then himself, then slid a finger across his neck again. 

(Y/n) chuckled incredulously. “She wants to kill you? So you’re basically enemies.” 

Art nodded excitedly and pointed at her. 

“That’s even more reason to just kill her and get it over with, that doesn’t make sense.” 

(Y/n) stood and began to re-dress as Art watched with a thoughtful expression. When she turned to face him again he slid a finger across his neck for a third time, pointing firmly at the ground to say today.

“And I’m going with you, yeah?” She replied as a statement more than a question. Art began to shake his head and she crossed her arms, holding back a wince as she forgot about the cut. “I’m going with you.” She reaffirmed sternly and his shoulders slumped in defeat, looking off to the side with a glare. 

Art looked back at her with a sarcastic smile, giving her two ok symbols before his smile fell and he rolled his eyes. 

(Y/n) sighed and her expression softened, making her way over to him and guiding him to stand and turn around. 

“We’ll be okay.” She reassured him softly as she zipped up his suit, letting him turn to face her again. “We always are, in the end.” She kissed the tip of his nose and he nodded giddily, his smile returning genuinely. 

Later that evening, after the sun had just set, Art urged them to leave and get into the van - and still wouldn’t disclose where he got it from. She sat in the passenger seat and buckled, Art hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition as the van revved itself to life. 

“When did you learn to drive?” (Y/n) asked jokingly. Art shrugged sheepishly, then eyed the spot she sat in with an odd expression. “What?” He shook his head and waved her off with uncertainty, shifting the van into drive and speeding off to who-knew-where. 

(Y/n) fidgeted with her camera when they pulled into a nicer neighborhood, rain pattering against the windshield as it stormed. He parked in front of a house at the end of a roundabout, pointing to it with an eager smile. 

“Is this her house?” 

Art shook his head, taping his index fingers together. 

“Her friend?” 

Art nodded and wiggled his eyebrows, (Y/n) sighing before the two of them got out and ran around to the back of the house. She gasped when he suddenly grabbed a brick and smashed in the sliding glass door, quickly collecting herself and following him inside to get out of the rain. 

“Not feeling really subtle tonight, I see.” (Y/n) spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence settled in the house. 

Art meandered into the kitchen, waving a hand in dismissal of her comment as she trailed behind him. 

“It’s too bad, this house seems so nicely decorated.” She annotated as she looked around, facing Art when he grabbed a random glass from the counter and turned on the faucet to fill it with water. 

She chuckled at his antics, turning into a giggle when he faced away from the sink to chug the water as if he hadn’t had any in days. (Y/n) then looked across the countertop, stepping closer when she spotted a pair of scissors and a knife. 

She hummed in approval. “Found your favorite.” Art set down the glass once it was empty and spun to face her, spotting the two items and rubbing his hands together in excitement, making his way over to them. 

(Y/n) suddenly heard a floorboard creak and looked around, seeing one of the brunettes from the other night watching them in pure terror. She casually lifted her camera and snapped a picture, Art giving a test snip of the scissors before looking to see what caught her attention. 

He stood up straight with a playful smile when he spotted his victim, raising the tools in his hands and snipping the scissors tauntingly at her. The girl screamed and ran off, Art following after her immediately in the opposite direction. 

“Have fun!” (Y/n) called after him, chuckling to herself when she heard them thump up the stairs. 

She looked around a little while longer, appreciating the owner’s sense of interior design for a moment before sitting down on the living room couch. She turned on the TV, drowning out the sounds from upstairs as she flipped through the different channels. 

She perked up when she saw an image on the news of Art leaving what seemed to be a costume shop during the day, suit freshly bloodied with his signature bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Huh.” She reacted simply, then turned around when she heard footsteps from the stairs. Art walked out, coated in much more blood than before and she quirked an eyebrow. “Done already?” She asked with a hint of surprise.

Art shook his head, (Y/n) watching as he rummaged through the cabinets and cupboards in the kitchen. He pulled out a white gallon jug of a chemical she couldn’t quite read from where she sat, then a container of salt and giddily trotted back upstairs. 

She simply shrugged and turned back to the TV, disappointment painting her face when the news anchor moved on to a different story. 

Some time later, she jumped when she heard the shuffle of keys outside of the front door and switched off the TV, getting up to hide behind the wall of the staircase. 

“Allie!” A woman called as the door opened and closed, presumably the girl’s mother. “Have you been handing out candy? That bowl is still filled to the brim.” She continued. 

(Y/n) stood frozen, peeking around just enough to see the woman hanging up her purse on a rack by the door. She quickly hid back when the mother began to head up stairs, holding her breath when her steps suddenly stopped. 

She dared to peer around once more, seeing her looking in the other direction where the glass door had been broken in. “Oh my god.” She gasped worriedly. “Allie?” The woman began to back away towards the stairs once more. “Allie!” 

As her voice grew distant, (Y/n) finally let out a breath and rolled her eyes at the disturbance. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, waiting expectedly. After a minute or so, a scream echoed through the house and she nodded her head. “There it is.” (Y/n) mused, then kicked herself off of the wall and made her way back to the couch to resume watching the television. 

When she heard Art descend the stairs a second time, he brought down the mother’s head with him and showed it to her with a proud flourish. (Y/n) walked up to him and examined it, noticing the top had been carved out into a makeshift bowl. 

She looked up at him and shook her head with a smile, walking over to the candy bowl sat by the front door with Art in tow. “Don’t expect me to help with the kids.” She warned him as she took a few handfuls of candy and transferred them into the head. Art simply grinned at her and nodded his head. 

Just then, the doorbell rang and (Y/n) shrugged, stepping around the clown to open the door for him. She hid behind the door, hearing the kids’ reactions of whoa’s and cool’s at Art’s ‘costume’ and candy bowl. “Ew,” She heard a little girl complain. “Why is mine so sticky?” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just fake blood, just put it in the bag.” The mom told the little girl and (Y/n) silently gave compliments to her for her patience. The kids giggled before they turned and left, granting a Happy Halloween before Art came back inside and closed the door. 

“You get your fix?” (Y/n) asked him as he tossed the head to the side, candy scattering over the floor. 

He shrugged in agreement, then clapped his hands together and pointed at the door for them to leave. 

“Exactly how many people are you getting involved with tonight for this?” (Y/n) broke the silence as he drove, the rain slowly coming to a stop. 

Art held up four fingers and she hummed. 

“That’s a surprisingly small number for you. But I guess dragging out each victim will do that.” Art nodded joyfully, the van slowing down as they reached a new neighborhood. 

They pulled in front of another house and parked, (Y/n) making a move to follow him when he told her to wait. She pouted and he reached out to her, gently patting her on the head before he got out of the van. She watched as he wandered up to the house until his figure disappeared inside. 

(Y/n) jumped when the van suddenly shifted into drive and began to move seemingly on its own, unable to move as she just sat frozen and baffled.

She then looked over to the driver’s side and saw what looked like a little girl with strikingly pale skin. She was dressed similarly to Art himself, makeup and all. Though it resembled more of a poorly put together cosplay of him. Her teeth were just as rotten, but her eyes glowed a bright yellow and red when she looked over at (Y/n) with an eerie smile and waved. 

Hesitantly, the woman returned her wave and spoke. “Are you a friend of Art’s?” She asked with a slight tremble in her voice. The little girl nodded, focusing back on the road as she cheerfully drove. “How long have you known each other?” (Y/n) asked, deciding to simply embrace what was happening and strike a conversation. 

The little girl held up a finger. 

“Days?” The girl shook her head. “Weeks? Months?” More shaking. “A year?” A nod. “You’ve been with him this whole time?” The girl smiled giddily, tilting her head side to side. “I’m assuming you know who I am then?” She nodded again and held up a half-heart with her fingers. 

Her face then twisted into focus, the van slowing to a stop. (Y/n) followed her line of sight, spotting a teenage boy hunched over and panting. 

The girl suddenly honked the horn and (Y/n) jumped in surprise. “Can he see us?” She asked as the boy whipped around to look at the van in both fear and confusion. 

The girl pointed at herself and shook her head, then pointed at (Y/n) and nodded. They watched as a group of kids ran past him and he stumbled, then turned to look back at them and slowly made his way towards the van. 

“Is he serious?” The little girl clapped excitedly and nodded. The boy stopped a few feet away from the van, the radio turning on and glitching through different stations as he stared at (Y/n) with his eyebrows furrowed. He looked away at the group of kids that passed him when the girl honked the horn again to recapture his attention. 

His eyes widened when the girl revealed herself to him, staring at him with a blank expression and wide eyes before he bolted. 

When he left, the girl giggled silently and looked over at (Y/n) for validation. The woman genuinely joined her, the boy’s reaction amusing. 

The van began to move again, following the boy as he ran into the house that Art had gone into and parked in front of it once more. 

The girl turned to face (Y/n), the latter doing the same and paused when the girl poked her knee playfully. Then twice again. Not understanding, the girl motioned to her own knees, then looked back up at the woman expectedly. 

Slowly, (Y/n) reached out and poked her knee just the same as the girl did and the girl giggled happily before reaching out and poking her knee again, now three times. (Y/n) followed. 

She went along with the girl’s little games in boredom as they waited, then screams sounded from the house and they looked at each other in understanding. 

Art suddenly emerged from the front door, dragging the boy from earlier by his arm, his body unmoving. The clown popped open the doors at the back of the van and slid the body inside, closing them as he walked around to the driver’s side door. 

(Y/n) gasped and froze when the girl crawled over into her lap, plopping herself happily to sit on top of her and kicked her legs. Art opened the door, face showing surprise at first, then laughed when he saw (Y/n)’s shocked expression. 

He hopped in the van and shut the door, throwing the van into drive and speeding off. 

After a few minutes of driving, Art pulled out a phone from beneath his legs on the seat and handed it over to the little girl. (Y/n) watched as she unlocked it and filtered through its contacts, clicking on Sienna and dialing. 

“Hello?” A female voice answered on the other end of the line. 

“Sienna, I’m in trouble!” The girl mimicked the boy’s voice and (Y/n)’s eyes widened, looking over at Art as he laughed while watching the road in front of them. 

“Oh, you think? Mommy told me what you did to her car, you little asshole. I mean, really?”

(Y/n) looked over at Art and pointed at him in question and he nodded proudly. “No, you have to come get me.” The little girl continued. 

“What do you mean? What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I’m at the old carnival. Eric and Sean left me here. I’m all alone!” The girl’s head tilted eerily with a creak. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Please, I’m really scared! I don’t know what else to do, I can’t call Mommy!” 

“Okay, um - alright, calm down. I’ll come get you. Okay?”

“Hurry, my phone is dying!”

“Alright, just wait by the main entrance, okay?”

The girl hung up and the three of them looked amongst each other with a shared glint in their eyes. 

As they rolled into the carnival’s parking lot, they all hopped out and Art grabbed the boy’s body from the back, throwing him over his shoulder. (Y/n) turned to look for the little girl, but found nothing and looked back at Art with a confused expression. 

Art simply shrugged and began to make his way inside, (Y/n) following like a lost puppy. 

“So when were you going to tell me about the girl?” She questioned him as they entered the Terrifier, trusting that Art knew where he was going through the maze of demonic props and animatronics. 

He pointed between the two of them, then made a short this high motion to represent the little girl and waved his hand in dismissal. 

“Is she always there?” Art shook his head, then pointed at her and made a sleeping motion. “Only when I’m asleep?” He nodded. “Well, that’s sweet of her, at least, to give us our time.” 

Art shrugged as they entered a room that looked similar to their workroom at their own hideout, spotting a bench that was equally as messy with tools splayed out. His bag sat next to it, a small and broken in box TV in the center of the room not far from his bench. 

Art turned to face her and aggressively pointed to the floor, telling her to stay put with a stern expression. (Y/n)’s lips parted in confusion.

“Why?” She pleaded, stepping closer to him as he adjusted the body over his shoulder and cocked his head at her, letting her know not to argue. She let out a shaky breath. “Will you be long…?” (Y/n) asked as she picked at her nails, worry decorating her face. 

Art shrugged, not knowing how long it would take and she bit her lip. She took a deep breath and walked up to him, lifting herself on her toes to bring their lips together in a passionate kiss. 

“Just come back to me.” She whispered, meeting his intense gaze. 

Art gave her a firm nod and slowly turned to make his way out of the room. 

“Art?” 

The clown paused, head turning to acknowledge her. 

“Give them hell.” 

His mouth spread wide open with a large, toothy grin, then stalked out of the room to carry out whatever it was he had planned. 

As she sat alone in Art's alternate workroom, the sounds of chaos and violence echoed through the walls. Her heart raced with every scream, every cry for help that pierced the air. She had learned to trust Art, but something felt different about that night as each passing moment felt heavier than the last.

She tried to calm herself, reminding herself that Art was a master of his craft, a performer who knew how to handle himself in any situation. But the fear crept in, consuming her with every passing second. What if something went wrong? What if he needed her and she wasn’t there?

Impossible.

(Y/n) paced the small room, hands trembling with anxiety. She longed to be by Art's side, to support him, to protect him. But there she was, helpless, waiting for him to come back to her.

Minutes turned into hours - or so it felt. Time seemed to stretch and warp, playing tricks on her mind. The cries of help, yelling and screaming had died for quite some time. 

She tried to come up with reasons for his delay that made sense. Covering his tracks? Cleaning up? 

Never. Not with Art. 

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, thoughts spiraling into a dark abyss of worry and doubt. She had never felt so alone, so vulnerable.

After what she deemed to be too long of a silence, she gave in to her instincts and left the room. She wound through the maze, left and right and left and right, at first attempting to follow trails of blood and all leading to nowhere except another cheap attraction. 

(Y/n) then found herself in a rather messy and empty-looking room. Trash seemed to litter every square inch, boards scattered among the dust and grime. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a familiar comically large shoe, turning her head slowly to find the source. 

She gasped sharply, then cried out a painful scream at what lay before her. 

She stumbled over to the decapitated body of her clown, falling next to it on her knees and frantically touching him. 

“No, no, no - my love!” (Y/n) sobbed and continued to scream as tears streamed down her cheeks, refusing to accept that what was in front of her was real. 

She leaned down to rest on top of his body, arms wrapping around him as if he were still alive. Her body shook violently as she lay there with him when something glimmered next to her. 

A sparkle of silver shone from the bottom of his pant leg and she reached over to raise the fabric, seeing a hunter’s knife strapped to his calf. 

(Y/n) simply breathed for a few moments, staring at the weapon. Her hand then grasped onto the handle and slid it out, squeezing it as she sat on her knees, hovering over his body. 

She looked up at the ceiling, heartbroken and desperate.

“We’ll be okay.” Her voice echoed in her head.

Her other hand also came up to hold onto the handle, arms raising up, outstretched with the blade facing her torso. 

“We always are, in the end.”

She plunged it into herself with a hoarse scream. 

Blood seeped through her shirt, pouring down onto the body below her as she slid the blade out of herself. The knife clattered onto the floor as she dropped it, hands shaking as she slowly sunk down onto the stained floor to lay next to Art’s body. 

(Y/n) snaked her arms around him, lightly pressing herself against him as her blood soaked into his suit from behind. 

Her breath trembled, growing more and more shallow as time seemed to drag and her eyes grew heavier. 

She gave in, eyelids drooping to close as everything went black. 

-

“Just leave her.” A raspy and distorted female voice spit. “If you’re so determined, then do it yourself. I’m not wasting my time with this shit.”

The sound of retreating footsteps gradually disappeared, leaving a dark and disturbing presence to loom over the body that lay in the center of the dusty attic. 

The figure crouched down beside them, gloved hand reaching out to caress their cheek. The same hand trailed down to their torso, palm covering the fatal gash that sat over where their heart was. The figure’s eyes closed for a moment, feeling as if a force was pulling at them, weakening their already vulnerable state as they grit their teeth.

Then it disappeared. 

The figure’s eyes opened and took away their hand, watching as the face below him paled, yet somehow seemed to glow with a newfound ethereal beauty.

Suddenly, the body’s chest rose as it took in a breath, eyes fluttering open as it exhaled. Their eyes wandered for a moment, adjusting to the environment around them, then slowly met the now stark-white irises of the familiar face above them. 

“Art?” Her delicate voice called to him. 

Tag list: @hoe-for-daddywise @callsignwidow

[lqveharrington]

Bus Stop | R.L.

summary: both you and remus miss the bus during a rain shower.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, strangers being cute, cursing

a/n: i seriously need to finish my coriolanus series help 😭

As a meteorologist for the local news media, you knew what the weather was going to look like everyday. In fact, plenty of people tuned in to hear the forecast just from you. It was something you enjoyed doing, you liked helping people out for the smallest things. You could predict whether or not the sun would be shining to the point where ice cream would melt in an instant, or if it would snow so hard that the roads were to icy to drive in.

It felt nice to be helpful and appreciated in a community you’ve learned to love.

But every once in a while, the computer system the station owned would make small mistakes. There would be times where it predicted hard rain, but instead ended in light rain with little to no clouds. Of course, it was something so rare that you always disregarded it and moved on.

Except for today.

You were standing underneath the thinnest awning as rain pellets fell harshly from the thundering sky. You missed the bus for the first time in years. It was stupidly coincidental that the day the computer system decided not to work was the day you missed the bus. It had shown that only light rain would be coming to your area.

Wrong.

So now you were trapped in a small space until a bus appeared or the rain let up, which was unlikely.

The wind blew harshly on your skin and made the rain splash everywhere. You were getting drenched by the minute and all you could do was wait. Your Mary Jane’s were completely ruined and your tote bag completely soaked, which incased your book and notepad. It was all destroyed.

A frown made its way to your face. You couldn’t even tell if tears were streaming down your face or if it was the rain as you felt your chest constrict. But even the universe had its limits and thought it was cruel to have you all alone in the storm. So it sent you one companion who happened to miss the bus as well.

A man ran over to where you were, his eyes wide in frustration and annoyance. You watched him run underneath the awning with his jacket over his head, which did little as he was completely soaked from head to toe.

He gave you a slight nod and looked out toward the obstructed street view, “How long have you been waiting?”

You blink in confusion before realizing he was talking to you. Heat covered your neck when he gave you an amused grin as he ran his fingers through his wet hair in attempts to squeeze the water out.

“Oh! Uhm, maybe a couple of minutes? Only two buses come down this way.” You look down to your shoes, the puddle underneath rising toward your ankle, although you feet were already drenched.

He sighed and leaned his head back on the brick wall behind, rubbing his palms in his eyes. “Fuck, okay.”

After a few seconds, an awkward silence took over despite the heavy rainfall. It wasn't like you intended for it to get awkward, but standing in a tight space with a man you never met really set off tension.

Yours eyes flickered from the rain puddles to the man beside you. Clearing your throat, you began to speak, but at the same time, the man spoke as well.

“How—“

“What—“ Your eyes widen and the previous heat creeped up to your cheeks. “Sorry, go ahead.”

“No, that’s quite alright. I was just trying to make small talk.” The man shrugged and sent you a small smile.

You grinned back and fiddled with the strap of your tote back. “So was I.”

Despite the attempt, another silence took over. This time, it was less awkward. The rain continued to pelt down and the sun began it's slow descent down when you decided to strike a conversation again.

“What made you late?”

He looked over toward you, his mind zoned out from the pattering of the rain. “Mm?”

“To the stop, I mean." You smile sheepishly and waved your hand around. "I got here just as the bus left, but you were minutes behind.”

“Ah,” He nodded and pushed his hair back again. “My car is at the mechanics and I wasn’t sure when the coaches come around. I guess I was a little off.”

“Just a little.” You pinch your finger together as a small laugh falls from your lips.

A comfortable silence took over this time. You had yet to know the man’s name, but you knew that he was alright to be around for the time being. Who knows if there were weird people out in the rain coming to get you.

The rain only grew harder, causing you and the mystery man to push closer in hopes of staying out of the harsh weather and not freeze to death. Well, more so than already.

“I feel like I’ve seen you before.” The man spoke and glanced at you to see an amused glint in your eyes.

“Yeah?”

He squinted his eyes before snapping his fingers in recognition. “You’re the meteorologist on channel 8.”

You laugh softly and place your hands on your hips, smiling like you would on television. “The one and only.”

“I didn’t think I would meet a celebrity waiting for the coach.” The man chuckled and ended with a content smile, shaking his head at the fact he did meet someone everyone loved.

“Where do you work?” You ask out of the blue, catching him off guard. “It’s only right, you know my place of work.”

He raised his brows like it was the most obvious thing. “You’re on the tele.”

“Same difference.”

You both stared at each other as if you were in a silent competition before you looked away, clearing your throat. Sensing your fraction of discomfort, the man answered your question.

“I work down at the bookstore on King’s street. It’s beside the café.” He gestured toward where he came from and smiled when your eyes lit up.

“Oh! My friend Lily works down there. I love that place, they have everything I ever need in life.” You grin at the mention of your favorite store downtown, but purse your lips when you remember what exactly you had in your tote. “But, one of the books is kind of destroyed in my bag.”

"You destroyed public property?"

"Not on purpose!" You defend yourself and put a hand up, the small smile on your lips showing your true emotion. "That's not funny."

"It was."

You roll your eyes in an amused manner and settle into a short silence. Time felt like it was going so fast yet so slow, and you weren’t exactly sure what that meant. Picking at your nails, you ask him another question he hopefully knew the answer to.

"Since you work with Lily, do you know a guy named Remus? She said he worked there with her, she wants me to meet him."

He raised a singular brow at you and tucked his hands under his arms as the wind blew harder. "I may or may not know. Why?"

"She said we would hit it off right away." You shrug and shiver, causing your body to instinctively pull closer to the man beside you for warmth. "And every time she wants me to go over to meet him, I'm really busy with work."

He hummed and looked down at you, meeting your eyes with pure joy and mischief. "I think that you would hit it off right away."

"You think so?" You murmur, glancing down at his lips for a split second before looking back up to his eyes in shock at your own action.

"Oh, definitely. You'll have the time of your life with his horrid humor." He chuckled as you huffed a breath out, the heat from your mouth shown in front of you.

"As bad as you laughing at me for accidently destroying a library book?"

"Precisely." The man nodded in agreement, pulling you further back into the stop as a car drove by without slowing down. "How long have you been a meteorologist?"

"Oh gosh," You bite your lip in thought and go back to your first time actually working as a meteorologist. "Maybe two years officially? I studied a lot in college for it and was given an internship with NASA back in the states for my last year."

His lips turned-down into a smile, not that surprised by the fact with how much you loved your job. "I'm impressed."

"Thank you." You tilt your head down and look down at the ever growing puddle, sighing at the sight. "Although, sometimes I wish I had chosen a job back in the states rather than come back here."

"Why is that?"

"The weather here is mostly the same all year round. There's nothing too interesting about it." You gesture toward the rain.

As you pointed out the harsh rain you would always report on, the bus lights finally appeared through the thick fog. You shut your eyes in thanks before holding tightly onto your tote. But before the bus got to your stop, you decided to speak once more. Maybe, just maybe, the mystery man was alright.

"I never got your name."

He turned his head to you and shrugged, his brown hair splashing you with water. "Technically, I didn't get yours either."

"Doesn't count, I'm on television." You quip as the bus comes to a stop, but the look on the man’s face caught you off guard. "What is it? Why are you smiling weirdly?"

"I'm Remus Lupin." He struck his hand out and kissed your knuckles. "And it was a pleasure to hit it off with you."

"You're joking." You gape at the mysterious man who you could now identify as the same Remus Lily was talking about. "You're incorrigible."

"And your coach is going to leave you behind soon." He tilted his head toward the flashing headlights of the bus.

You purse your lips and quickly get your body on the bus. You paid your bill and turned around to see him still standing at the stop. Furrowing your brows, you call out to him only to be interrupted.

“Will I expect to see you in the bookstore soon?” He cupped his hands around his mouth to enhance his voice over the heavy rainfall.

A small smile graced your lips as you responded. “Maybe!”

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