#i had no clue what it was called and now that i do i love it

[sillywillylils]

it took me awhile to finally read this and i’m so sorry el but oh my am i blessed that i was able to read this today.

i am a changed person.

“if you had to guess, it’s been nearly a year.” excuse me??? a year you say

“you allowed so much to happen. the biggest fault to your personality was how trusting you were in the world, in people” my wake up call i fear…

“jake, jay, and sunghoon walk down the front door steps as they’re talking” 02zzzzz

“a lost little pup with no clue in the world to the watchful, hungry eyes that followed you.” oh my i think im going to start flipping out

“oh, yes, his favorite sight to see” WOAHHH WHAT?!

“it was when the stranger wrapped their arm around you and pulled you in that he snapped” oh my oh my oh my oh my OH MY WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

“‘let’s get you home, angel.’ he smiled. you smiled” JUST LIKE THAT?!?! oh uh… WHAT THE FLIP but him calling mc angel…. it does something to me i fear

“‘i missed you so much today, pup.’ he’s honest. the open cuffed chain falls to the floor with a thud.” oh the nickname im taking a lap around the universe real quick brb

“like religion, or like the way you looked at him when you first woke up in this attic bedroom” dare i mention a frank ocean song… this is the beautiful

the description of this entire moment is so beautiful like i can see and visualize everything oh my… el you’re hooking me.

“‘can i eat you, angel?’” UH YES YOU CAN?!??

“he says your name between two kisses, “angel, my forever angel, it disgusts me how much i desire you.” his mouth hovers over your core. his fingers trace over your folds, clit, and entrance. he smears your wetness over like he’s painting a flower in gloss.”

“‘why?’ you breath out. normally, your mind would race over the statement, but the overwhelming taunt of pleasure clouds your head”

“his thumb circles your clit with the leaking want, ‘i don’t know what to do with it all.’”

i need to put this moment because this genuinely GOT ME. like i needed to take a a moment to process this and it sunk into me like honey and seeped through my mind. i don’t why but this got me really badly.

“‘my pup needs more? your hole is so hungry, huh?’” hey el so in case you don’t know i’m insane and this just drove me up the wall

“‘if you cum for me, i’ll feed you my cock. i’ll fuck you till you’re full of my cum, greedy angel.’” i actually had to take a lap around WHAT THE HECK?!?! i am currently floating into the universe right now

“jake, looking down at you with a sorrowful endearment, answers. ‘no, i am loving you.’” this changed me. this simple statement just changed me as a person.

“‘no, no, you can take it a little more. please,” he speaks with broken groans and whimpers, “i’m so close. i’m gonna fill you to the brim with my cum, angel. i’m gonna fuck a baby into you.” you moan out, your hands in his hair once again and tugging. ‘yeah, please’, you think, ‘a baby can keep me company. i’ll have purpose; i won’t be lonely’.”

“‘yes, you’re so good, jake. give it to me, give me a baby.” your words are mumbled, a string of obscenities. your core tightens around jake’s raging cock as the second orgasm washes over you. your body making subtle jerks in the aftershock.”

“‘gonna make a pup out of you, we’re gonna be a family.” the thought alone makes jake’s entire body shudder.”

this entire scene again. oh my god. i actually needed to take a break, i started rocking back and forth in the corner and started shaking then doing backflips ontop of the sun before floating off into space.

THIS. THIS. OH MY GOD. this actually just changed me, like it actually just switched something in my brain.

“riki opens his mouth to speak but a loud thud is heard from upstairs that stops him. the group of boys pause and look around at each other and then back to jake.” oh dear my my heart dropped for a second

“he looks down to his feet, his grip on heeseung’s arm bruisingly hard, “can you keep a secret?” is all he can whisper.” OH DEAR MY?!?? I FLIPPED AROUND THE ROOM

i actually fear i need to take a lap around outside and admire the nature of beauty with a heavy sigh.

el this is so beautiful. like it actually is so changing in my soul and i am being so serious. the attention to detail, the conflict within mc herself and towards jake, the sheer desperation of jake and just everything about it was just utter perfection. my jaw was actually dropped so many times, the more i read the more i started shifting in my seat.

as always thank you so much for creating this masterpiece, for all the hard work and dedication you had towards this fic, it is amazing. i cannot wait read part 2 and then read harvest of purity!!!

much love to you- l.p

attic angel — jake [ 심재윤 ]

synopsis : au where seemingly innocent jake has his favorite hidden secret tucked away for his eyes only; a story in which jake has his very own angel to confide all his sins in. ⇀ read part 2 here

pairing : jake x fem. reader genre : psychological thriller, smut, established relationship? word count : 9.9k note : in case of confusion, the story switches from present day to past; italicized text is the past ⇀ playlist content advisory : sexually explicit content, obsessive!jake, stalker!jake, needy!jake, praise!kink, oral (f.), fingering, unprotected sex, breeding!kink, biting, blood, corrupt!reader, religious themes and concepts, implied non-con if you squint, psychological horror elements, chained ankle / stockholm syndrome type shi

there you sit, wrapped in your thickest blanket and watching outside the window. the faint hum of the heater running blends into the silence of the home you’ve come to accept as your own. you can hardly remember what day it is anymore, or how long it’s been since you’ve last been outside the confines of this hidden property. if you had to guess, it’s been nearly a year. the fact that the winter season has come around again is your only clue as to the length of passing time. 

on days where you’re left to your own devices you can’t help but think, and think, and think. there’s only so many books you can read, or shows and movies you can watch before it all blends together, leaving you with the same emptiness as before. a little worse each time. maladaptive daydreaming is a habit you’ve had since childhood. you like to create your own stories and scenarios in your head. before it was a fun, silly escape from work or school. now it’s the only escape you actually have. but even dreaming becomes exhausting. especially when you come to realize how out of reach it is. 

as you wait for the return of your only source of human connection, you begin to recall the last days that you felt human. 

it was new years eve on your last day of normalcy, but there’s more to look back on before that fateful night. 

you glance at the grandfather clock, hanging on the wall. the time read 9:30. jake wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half. you sigh and the beautiful golden and white dog who laid beside you sits up. layla. she tilts her head as she looks as if to ask, ‘what’s wrong?’. you shake your head and give the dog a soft smile. your hand escapes the warmth of the blanket to reach out and pet her head. 

“it’s nothing, layla…” your eyes look back out to the window. the ground and trees covered in a thin layer of powdery white snow. “but i do think i miss having something to believe in.” your voice trails off into quiet as you continue to take in the cold, morning atmosphere. It was prepossessing, like a painting. but one in which you lived as a meer shadow. 

you often think to yourself, does your family still wonder where you disappeared to? did they think you ran away? how are they doing? do your friends still think of you as much as you do them? did they search for you? how long? are you dead to everyone you loved? there were too many questions that would more than likely go unanswered. you tried to ask. you tried a lot. but it never ended well, so eventually you learned to stop. it’s at times like this, where you’re left alone with nothing but your thoughts, that it all swallows you whole. 

you allowed so much to happen. the biggest fault to your personality was how trusting you were in the world, in people. yet another fault was you couldn’t bring yourself to truly hate anyone. especially not jake. you could hate yourself, however. and you did hate that you loved him. despite all that he’s done, you always kiss him back with compassion. 

it all played out as if it were your destined fate to be his, or the judgement to an early punishment. 

you were still relatively new to town at the time. having that your family only moved there at the end of summer. and it took your parents no time to find a new church to drag you along to. it’s not that you hated going, but as you got older you certainly began to question the faith that was forced upon you since childhood. 

“mommm,” you complained, using your best whiny voice to annoy her, “i’ve grown up, ya know? i’m old enough to make my own decisions, my own opinions. why do i have to go too?” perhaps this behavior was contradictory to your statement, but playing it safe was your best option. if you were too serious she would begin to lecture you. the last thing you wanted this early in the morning was her bible down your throat. 

she sent you a glare and said your name sternly, “are you trying to rebel against your own beliefs because you’re mad about the move? i thought you were growing up?” ah yes, there she goes completely missing your point. 

“oh my gosh, mom, i am not rebelling. i just think by now—” you wanted to continue on, but your mother was eager to cut you off. maybe it was better to withhold this argument with her anyways. your father was no help either, his eyes bouncing between his wife and daughter with uncertainty. he too played it safe and just nodded along with whatever your mother said. you doubted he was even listening. 

“it’ll be a good way to get to know the community. you ought to find yourself a good catholic boy, too.” she placed her hands on her hips, side-eyeing your exaggerated and exhausted expression. “come with us for 1 month. that’s all i ask, okay?” her words didn’t match her tone. through her frustration, she at least gave an easy compromise. 

“yeah… because those guys are so pure.” you mumbled under your breath. “fine, but only for a month.” you couldn’t turn it down. internally you were excited to break free from the custom sunday routine. 

despite not wanting to go, you found yourself not disliking it as much as you initially thought. you made friends your age rather quickly, one even helped you get your first job at the library in town. you found a quiet solace in covering and putting books away. zoning out while filing books? love it. daydreaming when you didn’t have to help people with minimal questions? perfect. you got to do easy tasks, read, and organize; it was simple and you could shut your brain off for a while. it was so nice that you quickly forgot how life was like before you came to town. 

the friends you made were fun too. they were kind, funny, and kept you busy. you all went out often whether it being grabbing food, watching a movie, getting your nails done, or just gossiping in the parking lot late at night. you always enjoyed your time with them. even if it was at church, where all of your parents expected you to be at.  

but even better than that, there was a really cute guy in the church choir who couldn’t take his eyes off you. sitting in the pews, you would often find yourself meeting his eyes only to shyly look away with a warm blush on your cheeks. in your peripherals, he would bite at his lip to conceal his smiles, eyes still eye on you through prayer and hymn. he was so pretty with his long brown hair cascaded and framing his face. you swear the dark coffee color of his eyes sparkled, even without the blinding fluorescent lights. his smile though, his smile was enough for you to thank god that you could be in his presence. he was truly like a fairytale prince come to life. it’s safe to say he, jake, alone made every sunday worth looking forward to. you didn’t have to fight with your parents about going because you found your own reason to go. and of course your friends. 

“geez, jake just can’t ever seem to stop staring at you, huh?” karina giggled through a quiet voice as she elbowed your arm. you couldn’t help but smile, elbowing her back. when did mass end? had you been so lost in thought that you didn’t realize you both were walking to her car? ‘you gotta daydream a little less’, you internally remind yourself. 

“so i’m not crazy for thinking he’s always looking in my direction?” you breathed out a laugh, waving a goodbye to your parents that were headed towards their car and back home. 

“oh, come on! just in your direction? he’s practically undressing you whenever you’re in the same room as him. and this is a chapel for christ’s sake! god knows what he could possibly be thinking of in a place like this--” you quickly cover karina’s mouth to quiet the growing volume of her voice. your eyes frantically glancing around to make sure no one overheard, and for hopefully no sign of jake or his friends around. 

“shh! what if someone overheard you say that!” your was voice hushed and tone so serious but all your friend could do was laugh into your hands. you drop your hands from her face and cross your arms. a sheepish look takes over your appearance. “at least get into your car before speaking about him or saying stuff like that…” you turn and open the car door to slip into the passenger's seat. 

“you’re so cute but,” she exhaled dramatically and said your name with a smile, “when are you going to stop pretending to be so innocent? it’s about time, don’t you think?” karina winks at you before closing your door and walking around to the driver’s side of the car to get in. you blush at that. thankfully it’s been cold these days so your flushed cheeks can be passed off as a chill to the weather. 

you look around the church parking lot and back to the chapel building. the front doors swing open and out walks jake himself, along with his friends you only know the names of because of giselle, your other friend. they were all in the choir together. jake, jay, and sunghoon walk down the front door steps as they’re talking. before you can look away, jake’s eyes found yours. he gave you a smile to which you returned bashfully, turning your attention to karina who was flipping through songs on her phone. “giselle, isn’t coming today so we don’t have to wait for her. she’s staying back to practice a song for next weekend.” karina informed you while starting the car. the heater builds up slowly, warming both of your shivering bodies. 

“so we’re going to the library--” you begin to speak but karina makes a shrill noise of excitement.

“oh my gosh! i almost forgot to tell you! giselle is having a new years eve party this friday. our friend minjeong is coming from busan too, i’m sure you’ll love her…” unintentionally you zone out as she rambles. you can’t shake the feeling of someone watching you. you would say it’s jake but this is similar to something in which you’ve been feeling more often than not lately. in places where he wouldn’t be, or shouldn’t be. like at the library, at restaurants, at home, or walking through town. with quick glances you search for the eyes that you certainly feel. the group of boys aren’t standing in front of the chapel anymore. it’s just families standing around and chatting amongst each other or people saying their goodbyes and thank yous to the priest. huh? habitually, you can't seem to find anyone. how strange. 

“jake will be there too.” karina catches your attention again, “were you even listening to me? geez, you can be such a weirdo sometimes, ya know?” she laughed lightly, her tone teasing. she playfully hit your arm. “i’m just messing. you are always in your own world though. you’ll end up missing all the important details if you live in your head like that.” 

unsure of what to say, you just apologize quietly. you look back to karina, fingers picking at the dried skin of your chapped lips. a nervous habit. 

“anyways, i’m sure he’ll make his move there after months of yearning from afar.” she makes a fake gag sound, finger pointed to her mouth. you giggle. “kidding, he’s a cutie, i guess. he’s sweet and reminds me of a puppy. all the aunties here love him, too, so that’s a good sign.” 

“you think so?” you don’t sound so confident, “i feel like he should’ve approached me by now. i don’t know how much flirtatious eye contact and occasional brush of skinship at church i can take…” your laugh was meek, doubtful. jake does always look so cute dressed in his sunday best. 

“trust. i know this friday is the day he makes you his.” she said with a playful smirk as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the road. you leaned back into the seat, looking out at the window to watch the town pass by. all naked trees, dormant from growth, and gentle shaking of branches in the wind. it’s like they’re waving goodbye. with a small smile you didn’t care to hide on your face, you think of what could happen at the party coming friday. 

neither you nor karina understood the weight and reality of her words. 

“i’m surprised you came this weekend,” jay speaks up, taking strides to catch up with jake who was making his way to his car. “you barely come anymore.”

jake turns around with a forced smile and a shaky laugh, “well you know… i got other stuff going on. the job i got at the beginning of the year keeps me real busy. i’m exhausted most weekends.” he wasn’t exactly lying. he did get a promotion at his software engineering company, and it was tiring. he’s making slow steps backwards but jay and sunghoon press harder, walking with him. 

“how about you come over to watch the football match?” sunghoon asked jake, who seemed eager to leave as soon as possible. he knew what jake would say, but he always asks nonetheless. this had become typical behavior of jake for a while now. he doesn’t hangout as often. whenever he does come out, he’s antsy, not fully there. it saddens him to see that his best friend is happiest when he’s about to leave. 

“hoon, you know i got my girls at home…” jake laughs lightly. his hands stuffed into his coat pockets and gripping his keys. all he could think about was getting home layla, to you. he shifts his weight from foot to foot, eyeing his car, worried of looking too ready to walk away from his friends. he should be worried, because the two guys picked up on this routine a while ago. 

“girls?” jay questions with a raised eyebrow, “like plural? you have something you’re not telling us?” his chuckle was short. his arms crossed while inquisitively awaiting jake’s response. “cuz if you got a girl now and haven’t told us, it would make us feel like shit. although it would help make sense of you being around less and less.” 

“girl!” jake’s hands shot up, waving around as if to wave the thought from the air, “my girl, layla, you know…” jake didn’t want to come off as nervous as he felt inside. he couldn’t panic or they’d know something was up, “she’s been home alone all morning. she’ll need a walk outside or her water refilled… it could snow again soon and i live further out than you guys so the drive--”

“it’s fine.” sunghoon forced a tight lip smile, “next time, right?” he begins to turn away but then jay speaks up again. 

“or we could both go to your place.” jay suggests, “we haven’t been over in months. not that you let us stay very long anyways.” jay’s eyes don’t laugh with him, he looks down to kick a rock awkwardly. he didn’t want to be rude with jake, but sunghoon won’t speak up so jay always has to do it for them both. jake picks up on the sliver of tension that is there between them. 

fuck, fuck, fuck. think quick. say something! 

“ah, uh.. next weekend!” jake knew his friends were onto him. what if they show up unannounced one day because they haven’t been over in so long? his flakey behavior is too frequent. (he can’t help it though, especially not after the time he left for too long and you tried to run off. although you did learn your lesson after that, so jake doubts you would try something like that again.) he had to do something different and panic was settling in more than he’d like to admit. he did feel bad about neglecting them; he missed hanging out with the guys. “you guys can come over next weekend! we can invite the other guys, cook, watch some football, and play games or whatever!” jake breathes out a heavy breath after his rush of words. he smiles a genuine soft smile to the two in front of him, “promise.” his voice ends timid. 

with that, sunghoon said a quick, ‘i’ll hold you to it!.’ his face was brighter than jake had seen in a while, so it must’ve been enough. the boys said their ‘see you laters’ and went off on their separate ways. 

despite sunghoon’s change of demeanor, he couldn’t lie to himself. yeah, he was happy that his friends could finally have plans together again. but sunghoon was attentive. he was quiet but always watching, picking up on the details that others might not pay attention to. he saw jake’s weary eyes. how they were unfocused. the way his smile didn’t spread across his face as if there were a deeper emotion he was feeling and it was eating away at him. the fact that he couldn’t sit or stand still, always so ready to run away. and the harsh indents in the palm of his hand from how hard he was clutching his keys; how did it not break the skin? all sunghoon could wonder is, what is jake going through to make him lose all sense of groundedness? 

when the two boys make enough distance from jake, sunghoon leans over to jay to say quietly, “he’s always been a bad liar.” to which jay silently agrees.  

jake notices them walking closer together, whispering something to one another, as they walk away. it made his skin crawl. he wants, no he needs, to deny the fact that they were suspicious of him. but how could he? 

what should he do? leave? move you, him, and layla back to his home in australia? yeah, that doesn’t sound so bad. but what about his friends though? the job he studied so hard for? the promotion he worked tirelessly for that allowed him less hours in the office and more with you? how could he say goodbye to it all? it’s all going so well so why does he feel like he’s about to crack? 

the whole car ride back home had jake’s hands trembling as he gripped his steering wheel. his mind is racing with too many possibilities of all the wrong outcomes. he couldn’t have a single mistake happen. there was too much to lose and the main thing being you. he knows he would go crazy if he had to lose you, the most precious thing in his whole world. his sweet, little angel. he worked so hard just to get you, too. 

and after all he’s done, he wouldn’t dare take the chance of letting you go. just the thought alone of not having you makes jake feel like all hell would break loose.

the day he first saw you, he thought every prayer of his had been answered. he had truly been graced with a gift from the heavens that he would stop at nothing to hold all to himself. you consumed his every thought, permeated his brain. and inside him, something quickly began to seethe. something in nature to a feral animal, starved and desperate to claw to freedom. constantly licking the backs of his teeth, ready to sink into you. 

what started as a crush quickly turned into obsession. he knew so when he found himself following you home, to work, or wherever karina and giselle were bringing you. you had no idea, on top of that. oh, his naive angel, glancing over your shoulders with hurried steps only to trip over your own feet. you were so endearing to watch. a lost little pup with no clue in the world to the watchful, hungry eyes that followed you. 

he learned all he could about you before that fateful new years eve. albeit, from a distance. he knew when you went to work, when you went out for groceries, what foods you dislike and prefer. how you wear your favorite color on the days you’re feeling good. how you enjoyed naughty books and pretty covers. the way your face is always wearing exactly how you feel, or what you’re thinking. 

he would go to the library, watch from afar. when you walked away, pick up the exact books you did and run his hands across the covers to feel what you felt. he did the same at stores, and bought what you bought. when you left restaurants he would go inside just to sit where you did. anything you touched and left behind quickly became his. it all brought a sense of closeness to him. 

he learned your routine in no time. more often than not, he found himself telling the deep rooted feeling within him that he’s just making sure you’re safe. he’s merely keeping a watchful eye. and the festering ache of his visceral grew to the point where he began to think, ‘wouldn’t she just be safest with me?’. yeah, yeah you would be. he believed he could provide everything for you. anything you could ever need to be kept protected, kept satisfied. a delicate angel like yourself needed jake. he was sure of it.

he is still sure of it. 

he exhales a deep sigh, his breath still shaky. his lungs not easing the way his mind tried to convince his body. 

“it’ll all be okay…everything will go smoothly. my angel, she wouldn’t misbehave.” jake tells himself, “next weekend will be fine.” his eyes staring openly at the road. his bottom lip bit raw from all his nervous thoughts.

“my obedient pup is at home. she is waiting for me at home. she always is. i am almost home.” he speaks in a mantra until it’s convincing enough to calm his nerves. he thinks of how lonely your morning must’ve been without him. how you must be cold. how your ankle is chilled and bruised from the frigid metal cuff around it. 

oh, yes, his favorite sight to see. 

the thought of you, ankle chained to the attic room bed, patiently waiting for him makes his cock ache. the fact always does. he hates to leave you, yet loves coming home to you just as much. his girl, waiting in her room, bathed in the sunlight that glows from the window to cast a halo above your head. the softest picture he wished to have burned into his mind forever. 

he groans softly with an unsteady right hand palming at his growing bulge. he sucked in a breath, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth. his palm presses down on his cock that is desperate to escape his clad pants. he whimpers quietly. his foot presses the gas a little harder, speeding up a little faster knowing you wait for him in that perfect image, just as he imagines. “almost home,” he exhales a breath that holds more stability than the rest. his tongue follows to swipe over his lips. he can’t wait to taste you. 

he’ll feel better once he has you. he always does. 

just like the first day.

it was a cold friday evening and the fateful day of giselle’s new years party. jake had been anticipating this day the second he realized you became friends with giselle and karin. giselle had always thrown her annual new years eve parties, and of course you’d be invited. it was the perfect day for him to claim you, his angel. 

he gave his plan much thought. approach you casually, kindly. talk to you for a while. let loose with some drinks. compliment, flirt, but don’t come on too strong. build a sense of respect and show you that he’s not just into you for a fling. he needed you to know he was serious about pursuing you, and in for the long haul. hold hand as the countdown into the new year in cheered amongst friends. share a new years kiss under the fireworks. make plans for a date to get to know each other more the following week. 

ideally, that’s what he wanted, at least. 

in his heart, he really did want something normal with you. a cliche romance where you meet unexpectedly, become friends, and slowly fall in love. 

not everything goes according to plan though. 

jake, showed up earlier than jay, sunghoon, and heeseung. the three of them apparently had too much to pre-game and had to wait for one of them to sober up more before driving over. they asked jake to come pick them up, but he lied, saying he had already had something to drink and couldn’t. 

he sat in his car, outside of the large three story home. there were subtle decorations around the property. new years signs stuck into the ground, balloons tied to the mailbox and banisters of the wrap around porch. the christmas lights were still up and flashing colors of white, gold, and blue. he could hear the music blaring from inside. judging by the amount of cars outside, and the horrible parking situation, giselle really out did herself this year. it was packed. 

as he was getting out of his car, he didn’t even realize his hands were shaking. he felt like he was struggling to breathe. his heart pounded in his chest, reverberating throughout his whole being. it raged through him so heavily he started to think his lungs had no room in his own body.

he failed to realize what he was doing when he made it up the front steps and into the house. he was swimming through the crowd of people inside who were dancing and singing, a red solo cup or shot glass in hand. almost as if his body knew where you were, he made his way to you. and there you were. the descry of you lifted all the weight he felt. sitting on the stairs, leaning against the wall, drink in hand, eyes half lidded as you hummed to whatever song playing loudly. your existence was so beautiful to jake. 

jake smiled at you. his body on autopilot slowly approached, but came to a stop when a guy sat down next to you. his smile dropped. he had never seen him before, so he must not have been from around here. 

it was when the stranger wrapped their arm around you and pulled you in that he snapped. that feeling that had been festering within jake was finally boiling over. a bubbling, fiery rage that scorched him down to the bone marrow. he hated the sight, the knowing that other people could touch you, see you, talk to you, make you laugh and smile. he was sober and yet his stomach threatened to spill. he pain he felt only left him with disgust. how could you let a stranger in so close? jake never once had the thought of hurting you. no, the idea of doing such kills him. so why did he want to? 

luckily, if jake was good at anything, it was staying in control. despite all the ugly things he feels inside, he never lets it show. in public, that is. 

“she’s really drunk,” jake reached out and pulled you up from the stranger, “i’ll help her form here.” you giggled quietly, leaning your weight onto jake, arms wrapped around his neck. 

luckily, the guy didn’t seem to care and got up to leave and move onto another drunk girl in the sea of people. jake didn’t allow himself the thought of what might’ve happened if he didn’t intervene. it would make him ill with violence. he wasn’t a violent guy, though, at least he hasn’t been. 

“jake.” you breathed his name, eyes closed as you hugged onto him. he bit down at the sound of your voice saying his name. he could feel his blood rush south, his body lighting on fire. “hm.. i’m really tired.” your mumbles were incoherent, but enough for him to pick up. 

he didn’t even know what to do with himself. he opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. if you weren’t so gone you’d easily be able to feel his raging heart. his sweaty palms holding your back close to him. he just looked down at you in his embrace. 

yeah, he thought, this is much better. where you belonged. 

it took damn near everything in him to not bend you over and take you right there, but he knew his time window was short. 

your friends were nowhere in sight nor his own. 

“let’s get you home, angel.” he smiled. you smiled. 

you don’t recall much from that night, honestly. at least not clearly. you remember decorating for the party and drinking with you friends. meeting new people. dancing, singing, drinking more. and jake. you spoke to jake for the first time. he was kind. at least you think so because he offered to take you home. then it all blurred. 

and everything you don’t remember, jake does. jake would rather take that to the grave though. 

you perk up as you see jake’s vehicle rush down the long driveway. his car flew over the gravel path, a divide between the towering and snow wearing trees. layla hears the sound of his vehicle and rushes out of the room through the cracked door that leads downstairs. you wish to do the same, eyeing the cold metal cuff that confines you to the room. 

you watch him park then fumble out. he looks cute, tripping up and making a clumsy speed for the house. you can hear layla’s barks and the sound of jake’s many keys. there’s several locks on all the doors and windows. jake takes many precautions in his need to keep you safe. 

overfamiliar with his routine, you wait as he takes care of layla’s needs before coming up to see you. he seems faster today than usual, because his quick footsteps can be heard sooner than you expect. 

jake pushes open the door with a wide grin. his eyes sparkle as takes in the glow of your being. almost as if he was never wavering, he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way over to sit next to you on the bed. 

he says your name quietly and you speak his, with arms wide open. you pull him into a warm embrace, wrapping your body around him in a koala-like hug. the metal of the chain rustles and clanks, dragging against the wooden floorboards and bed frame. 

you stay like that for a full minute, basking in each other's clutch. he pulls away only ot take the key from his pants pocket to unlock the cuff. 

“i missed you so much today, pup.” he’s honest. the open cuffed chain falls to the floor with a thud. 

“i miss you every moment you cannot be with me,” you stare at his unreadable face. he’s peaceful, smiling back at you, but you know him well enough that there’s always more. something got to him today. he’s trying not to tremble and you know it. 

he laughs, it's soft and melodic. “are you trying to one up me?” he grabs a hold of your waist and pushes you onto your back. his body now atop of yours, arms caging in your face. a hand brushes the stray strands of hair from your face as he leans in to press butterfly kisses over your face. a warm flush heats your cheeks. the fiery feeling takes over your body.

he kisses the top of your head, forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, nose, cheeks and lips. it elicits a giggle past your lips. eyes fluttering shut, you capture his lips in yours the second they touch. intimacy with jake is always when you feel the warmest, the fullest. you try not to accept that it's also when you feel the most alive. 

the kiss starts off sweet. your lips molding into one with a smooth rhythm. jake’s lips were always plump and soft. you like to bite down on the bottom one. you know he likes it too because he whimpers into your kisses every time. 

“ah, baby, just a moment.” he begins, but you keep chasing after his lips. as much as he loves the shared intimacy, in the back of his mind he knows what he needs to say. “next weekend, the guys are going to-”

you pull away from his face and relax against the bed, your hands holding his face as you look up at him. with red cheeks, swollen lips, and hair falling into his eyes, he’s so pretty. you don’t want to think about anything but being with him. 

“jake, jakey, tell me later. please.” it’s a soft plea. you just want this moment. your hands slid down to his shoulders to wrap your arms around him and pull him closer to you. 

jake complies silently, his hands now roaming your body while his mouth latches to your neck. his hands squeeze your shoulders, down your arms, waist, and up to your breasts. you don’t realize what made him change, but his grip gets rougher and the kisses he leaves along your jaw and neck are nothing like the ones he was pressing on your face. the sopping, open mouthed kisses against your skin turn to deep sucking of flesh with bites intermixed. you moan quietly; the pace of your breath picking up with heaves. 

the warm, wet, heat in between your legs starts to pulse with need. yet you ignore it and take a hand to tug at the waist of jake’s pants. you fumble with his belt but manage to free his leaking, heavy cock. if you were feeling aroused, jake felt it ten-fold. 

you thumb over his tip, smearing his precum around in gentle circles. he whines into your neck, “shit, touch me more, baby, please.” his teeth trace a line over the skin from your jaw, neck to shoulder. he wants to sink his mark into you. 

you wrap your hand around the base of his pulsating flesh, still stimulating his tip with teasing, small, gentle touches. he bucks his hips forward into your hand with another strained sound. before you really start to jerk him off, he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“jake!”, you don’t know if it's a cry or a moan. it hurts so good and a single tear escapes your eye. 

“i-i had to,” he lifts his head up to look at you quickly with a loss of words for his action. he looks like he’s beginning to tremble. your face pales seeing him with your blood on his mouth. how is he still so pretty? you kiss him again and he continues with shallow thrusts into your hand. you squeeze him and think to yourself, ‘i’ll keep him grounded; he can break later.’ he continues to kiss you with hunger. 

all jake can think at the moment is how your blood on his tongue and teeth tastes like a cleanse, or like religion, or like the way you looked at him when you first woke up in this attic bedroom. 

his hands find the bottom of your white, slip dress to pull it up over your head. he breaks the heated kiss to remove it only to toss it aside. he’s sitting up on his knees now. when he looks down at you half-lidded, panting with lips red from your own blood he doesn’t know if he should pray or devour you. 

he reaches down to his cock, taking it from you to pump himself a few times. he licks over his lips, tasking your metallic ichor. he groans and rolls his head back slightly, “hng, i want to taste more of you. can i eat you, angel?” he bites his lip, staring at you as he lazily tugs on himself. 

you nod slowly as your fingers wrap around the waist side of your panties before sliding them off. you glance away from jake as you open your legs to him. still as shy as ever despite being wolfed down by him many times before. 

jake hums over the small moan he swallows down. you, his beautiful girl presented before him, he is eager to ravish. 

he throws off his shirt then his boxers and pants follow suit. he situates himself between your legs, arms wrapped under your thighs. he starts by kissing up your thighs, biting, and littering them with marks of claim. 

he says your name between two kisses, “angel, my forever angel, it disgusts me how much i desire you.” his mouth hovers over your core. his fingers trace over your folds, clit, and entrance. he smears your wetness over like he’s painting a flower in gloss. 

“why?” you breath out. normally, your mind would race over the statement, but the overwhelming taunt of pleasure clouds your head. 

his thumb circles your clit with the leaking want, “i don’t know what to do with it all.” 

he’s vague, but you’ve been around him long enough to have an idea. jake is all consuming; a black hole, an endless void. you’re just spinning in it. 

his tongue licks a thick strip up your pussy. he moans at the taste and you moan at the feeling. the warm, wet muscle dances over your soaked opening. he’s basking in the taste, for a moment at least. because when it comes to you, he’s always starving. 

he goes at you like you’re his last supper. eagerly licking between open mouthed, sloppy kisses. face pressing further into you like he’s never close enough. his nose pressing against your clit, only teasing the nerves that begging for more and more stimulation. his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, nails sure to leave crescent moons as a remembrance. 

you’re whining out his name along with drawn out moans. your hands found purchase in his thick, long locks of hair. you tug on it, back arching off the bed, with thighs desperate to close but jake holds them steady. his tongue prods the opening of your pussy, dipping in and out with cursory. your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation of his tongue fucking you open. it feels like heaven.

“ja..jake, gimme more. i need more.” your fingers scratch along his scalp as you adjust your grasp in his hair. you can feel his moan ripple throughout you. 

he’s so lost in the taste of you. he wishes himself able to eat his way through you. 

he withdraws his mouth only to replace his tongue with a finger. with his head leaning against your thigh, he smiles and watches you wither around in fits of moans. “my pup needs more? your hole is so hungry, huh? you’re sucking in my finger so well that i can feel how greedy you are for more.” you can only mewl in response, head far in the clouds and stars of sinful bliss. 

he’s teasing you, a single digit fucking into you languidly. the tip of his finger dragging along your rippled, creamy walls. your hips wiggle down onto his finger, wishing for more, wishing for him to reach as far as he can inside of you to rip out all that’s buried. 

watching your sweet desperation, he adds another finger. the pace of his fingers picks up and the unholy sounds your soaked heat makes urges him to dive back in. his mouth latches to your sensitive pearl, sucking heartily and licking like an animal. the sounds you both make are so obscene, so dirty. 

“ah- jake, it’s so good, jake.” you thighs begin to quiver and the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach builds up quickly, “you’re doing so well for me, jakey. i’m so close,” you whine, watching him devour and scissor you open, “i’m gonna cum.” 

your moans of encouragement only drive him to do more. he lives for your praise. it's like a match to flame. his hips push his cock further to the mattress. he makes needful humps like he’s a dog in heat as he eats away at you. he speaks into your pussy, it’s muffled, but along the lines of, ‘you taste so good, so sweet.’ 

his tongue never lets up and neither do his fingers, “come on, baby. give it to me. cum all over my tongue and fingers.” he voice almost anguished, wanting to whimper for more. “if you cum for me, i’ll feed you my cock. i’ll fuck you till you’re full of my cum, greedy angel.” 

his words make your head spin and the heat from your stomach washes over you like a broken dam. with shaking legs you orgasm. your mouth falls open in a silent cry but he doesn’t let up. his fingers are rough and fast, making a dripping mess of your hole. his mouth, so thirsty for you, laps everything that spills. he groans at the warm release on his tongue. 

your breaths are heavy, body still convulsing from the strong climax. “ah- i’m.. enough.” you make attempts to push his head away from your overly sensitive pussy, but jake is drunk off you. he pulls his fingers out of you only to put them into his mouth, sucking them clean. 

you sit up slightly, propped up by your elbows. you wince at the pain near your shoulder, remembering jake’s deep bite. “what did you need to say earlier?” your voice soft, quiet, but breaths still labored. 

jake finally pulls back and sits up, his face drops. his hair a wild mess from your hands and half his face glistening in wet release. he tilts his head slightly, “will you promise to behave?” his voice, too, soft and quiet. he looks apprehensive. 

you nod, watching as he climbs back up your body with kisses. his hands gripping your hips, waist, and breasts. a thumb swipes over your nipple, you shiver. he pinches the other, you bite your lip. your eyes watching him with anticipation. 

i can behave, you think. will i get to go out? can i see my friends? anything, anyone! your mind quick to daydream different possibilities. 

“the boys are coming over this weekend. maybe friday.” he says it with disappointment, “i haven’t been hanging out as much and they’re onto- they miss me.” he corrects himself. 

your heart pauses for a second before it falls. your hopes were so ready to rise but it’s all just silly ideas. of course it’s not a reward for you. when is it ever? people miss you too and where is your opportunity? 

“can i—?” you try to speak. it’s a small, brave attempt. 

“no!” he voice louder than he anticipated, “no… i- you’ll have to be quiet for me, please? they can’t know or else i could lose you.” he kisses along your collar bones, a handful of your breast in his palm receives a squeeze. “it’s only a couple hours.” 

“but, but i’ll behave. i won’t do anything bad. and i’ll tell them i’m fine! i-i like being with you. i just want to talk to people, see friends…” you do your best to blink away the sting in your eyes as you plead. 

jake can only sigh, his cock still angry from the lack of attention. he presses his tip against your core, sliding it around the wetness that was left undrank with a hiss. “you have me to talk to and see. isn’t that all you need?” 

you’ve had this conversation many times before, so what did you expect? 

you remain silent with that, eyes staring at the ceiling with tears threatening to cry. 

jake kisses your cheek and impales himself into you without warning. your hands quickly wrap around his back and grip his shoulders while your body betrays you with a moan. the sudden intrusion makes you cry. your nails scratch his back. 

“are you punishing me?” you can’t look at him, so you close your eyes. the tears fall regardless and your bottom lip quivers. the question is directed to god, if there really is one watching over you. 

you open your eyes to blink away the salty pain. 

jake, looking down at you with a sorrowful endearment, answers. “no, i am loving you.” 

he grabs the backs of your thighs and presses them to your chest, your legs find place on his shoulders. he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. you return the gesture with broken sobs. 

“you know i love you,” he stares at your face that’s wet with sadness, eyelashes and lips too. 

“i know.” you try to smile but your lips are trying to shake, to show your inner turmoil, so you bite down until you’re tasting crimson metal. 

he smiles but it’s one of dolor. 

his hips pull back to snap back into you causing your body to jolt. he groans at the feeling of the warm tunnel wrapped around him. you squeeze him just right. he rolls his hips around, pushing his cock as far as he can into you. it feels like his tip is kissing your cervix. you whimper a moan, it’s a defeat by pleasurable pain. 

“you’re so tight,” he whines, his thrusts pick up. loud smacks of skin and wet sex fill the room. “no matter how much i give it to you.”

you’re in a mating press, made so small beneath jake as he pounds him cock into you. your core still sensitive from his fingers and mouth makes you whine and claw at him. you make small gasps of his name through your pitiful noises. 

jake stares down at your twisted face while his cock bullies into you with no abandon. your sobs and moans ring through his ears to throttle his brain. he never liked to make you cry. it makes all the ugly feelings he tries to keep buried resurface.  

“angel,” he moves your legs from his shoulders and you instinctively wrap them around his waist, “tell me i did the right thing. tell me i’m good.” he pecks your lips, picking up the little blood from your bite to lick. you copy him, licking over your lips. wet eyes only blinking slowly up at him. 

in your silence, he makes a particular rough movement, deeper than you’ve felt him reach. you make a high pitched moan, mouth falling open. 

“please,” he begins to beg, his own eyes rimming with red as they gloss over, “i want to be good. tell me you think i’m good.” his cock pistoning in and out of your pussy over and over. his thrusts growing more erratic and desperate. 

a flash of memories, like a film reel, plays in your mind. you think back to all you’ve gone through in the past year. the first realization of what happened, the shocking betrayal, the pain of loneliness in isolation, the suffering in silence. but you’re always quiet. always far away from reality. how is he supposed to know you’re suffering? do you even know you are? maybe you really are an angel. one of god’s many ghosts. intangible to all you ever knew, yet hiding in plain sight. 

jake notices you in thought, elsewhere. his eyes are brimming with tears now as he continuously fucks you harder, deeper, faster. he takes a hand, adding more weight to the one that holds himself above you, and starts to play with your abused clit. your body shakes beneath him with the overstimulation. you only cry more, unsure of specifically what is breaking you. 

“i’m sorry,” it’s a choked up cry, his voice so quiet you nearly didn’t catch it. “i-i know what i did isn’t right, but i love you that much.” you’ve never seen jake cry. and it breaks your heart. you didn’t think it still could. 

your hands are shaky, cupping his face to look into his sad eyes. “it’s okay,” you lie. 

jake exhales deeply, breath wavering. his fingers working circles over your wet beed. your hips jerk up, chasing his cock and fingers. 

“you did good,” and your eyes begin to cry again, “you’re always good, jake. my best boy.” you press your lips to his again. and again. then again. you think you feel him smile against your mouth. yours and jakes mess of spit and tears mangle together. 

the overstimulation catches up to you, a hellfire in your being wanting to burst. you lean back to the mattress, breathing heavily, “i’m gonna cum again. i can’t take much more.” 

“no, no, you can take it a little more. please,” he speaks with broken groans and whimpers, “i’m so close. i’m gonna fill you to the brim with my cum, angel. i’m gonna fuck a baby into you.” you moan out, your hands in his hair once again and tugging. ‘yeah, please’, you think, ‘a baby can keep me company. i’ll have purpose; i won’t be lonely’. 

“yes, you’re so good, jake. give it to me, give me a baby.” your words are mumbled, a string of obscenities. your core tightens around jake’s raging cock as the second orgasm washes over you. your body making subtle jerks in the aftershock. 

“gonna make a pup out of you, we’re gonna be a family.” the thought alone makes jake’s entire body shudder. “oh shit,” he whines, his thrusts are sloppy, simply chasing the feeling of being in climax. “ah, fuck, baby.. i’m gonna--” he moans loudly, his body collapsing on top of yours. you feel the warm, sticky liquid fill you in the innermost parts. the fullness of it all makes you hum in sick satisfaction. 

he gives himself a few more shallow shoves, pushing his seed further into you, not wishing for a drop to escape. 

after a minute, he rolls off of you and pulls you into his embrace. his body curls up into yours. he doesn’t say anything and neither do you. both of your minds wishing to be empty but overwhelmed with more than you’d dare to share. 

he watches your blank face from the side. his eyes follow your profile. damp from tears and spit covered kisses. your lips bitten and red. down to your neck that’s already blooming with red and purple deep bruises. and then to his already bruising bite. he broke the skin, teeth punctured further than he imagined. he smiles knowing it will leave a scar. 

he leans up, beginning with a gentle peck over the pained surface. he follows with little licks, picking up the dried blood. 

unnoticed by jake, even you smile a little. 

in one of the stories you conjured up in your loneliness, jake was the wolf and you a lamb. he drags you deep into the woods with his mouth around your throat. you’re bleeding, and maybe you’re dying, but he licks it all clean with pure affection. with unconditional love. 

[ five days later ]

you watch from the window as different cars park in the driveway. one looks familiar, either jay or heeseung’s. you can’t really remember. you haven’t met heeseung formally, but jake’s told you about him and you’ve heard his voice a couple times before when he had come over. you’re sat with your legs criss crossed, elbow to knee, and face leaning in your hand. you notice new faces you’ve never seen before. three new faces at least. 

you sigh and wish you could greet them yourself. but jake, who was stressed all week and morning, made it clear how he wanted you to behave. live quietly, read a book, draw, listen to music or watch a downloaded movie on the ipad. it made you feel like a pathetic child but in the past year, if you’ve become anything, it’s obedient. 

as you watch the group of six men funnel into the house, you think you catch one of them glance up to your window. you quickly shoot down to lay back on the bed, hands covering your mouth as if anything would leave it. your heart pounds erratically in your chest. 

“did someone see me?” you whisper. it lights a spark within you to think that you weren’t invisible to the world. and that made you feel really good. 

never in your life had you imagined so desperately wanting to be seen. you can’t help but grin to yourself as if that simple glimpse solidifies your existence outside of the one jake created. 

meanwhile, downstairs jake is smiling widely and greeting his friends. they’re all happy to see jake and be at his house for the first time in what seems like forever. they all greet layla with pets and coos of affection too before kicking their shoes off and making themselves home.

“your place looks nicer than i expected. i thought you’d be messy as shit.” riki laughs, walking through the foyer. his eyes take in the open layout where the kitchen and living room are. he finds himself a spot on the corner of the couch. sunghoon does the same. 

“yeah, you have a maid or something?” jay teases, making way to the kitchen with his grocery bags in hand. sunoo follows behind jay with a tray of brownies. 

“I learned how to be tidy with age.” jake breaths a laugh, eyes glancing around like he didn’t already double check every corner of the house for a possible trace of you. 

“where’s your bathroom? i gotta pee sooo bad, the ride was longer than i expected.” jungwon has a big grin on his face while he makes a childish pose like one who’s close to soiling their pants. jake laughs and points down the foyer hall, saying it's the first door to the left. 

heeseung just seems to be standing there in the hall. his eyes looking all over jake’s home like he’s never been there before. he finds several things strange. he notices the amount of locks on the front door first. then his gaze stops at the staircase before he walks to the living room where the others are. 

jake notices heeseung’s silent demeanor and analytical eyes. he doesn’t say anything though. instead jake stuffs his hands into his hoodie to scratch at his cuticles. his nails already bit raw from the days of anxiety leading up to today. 

“dude, why don’t you have fucking wifi here?” riki sinks into the couch, trying to flip through the tv settings. 

“i have to use my phone's hotspot data if i want to watch stuff.” jake bites at the skin peeling from his bottom lip as he leans back against the kitchen island counter. jay and sunoo prepping dinner for the evening behind him. 

“that’s so lame.” sunghoon adds in and riki agrees with a nod of dramatics. “we can use mine though, riki, opening the wifi settings again and find my bluetooth.” the two manage to set that up and find the football match they’ve been anticipating. 

“you said last time we were here you’d have it set up by now.” heeseung finally chimes in, his tone seems challenging. he sits on the other empty couch, his back to the tv so he can watch the room. 

“yeah.. well.. i just didn’t have any problems doing what i usually do…” jake’s words fumble. jay, behind jake, shoots heeseung a shrug and look of ‘i don't know!’. 

to break the scene, jungwon comes bouncing down the hallway, all smiles, and into the kitchen. “jay hyung! what are we making?” jay rolls his eyes playfully and tells jungwon to help sunoo cut vegetables. 

time seems to flow smoothly after that. the three who were in the kitchen begin setting up the table for dinner. side dishes, main dishes, drinks, and so on. 

the other four have gone through all sorts of emotions as they watch the intense match. cheers and yells of passionate, ‘lets go-es!’ and so on, or groans of annoyance when their favored team gets a yellow/red card or misses a goal. it was all jokes, laughs, and smiles between them all. 

it’s such a good atmosphere that even jake, for some short moments, is able to forget being so anxious. 

now they all sit around the table in the living room, some on the couch and some sitting on a cushion on the floor, eating happily at the hearty meal prepared. jay even brought some drinks, but only half of them indulged. jake eyed the beer, but didn’t want a possibility of mistake. 

and then sunghoon, two beers in, says something that takes the air from jake’s lungs. 

“hey, jake, remember that girl you were hard crushing on last year?” he takes a bite steak, not really focused on anything but his plate of food. 

“uhm, yeah.” jake nearly chokes, coughing loudly into his elbow, “w-what about her?”

“isn’t it just weird how she up and disappeared at the new years eve party?” jay questions before gulping down his second beer, crushing the can in his hand once empty. 

“you guys- we didn’t really know her, s-so like how are we to know?” the emphasis on his word adjustment is noticed by heeseung and riki. riki gives jake a weird look, his eyebrow raised. 

riki opens his mouth to speak but a loud thud is heard from upstairs that stops him. the group of boys pause and look around at each other and then back to jake. 

“what was that?” sunoo gasps, looking scared, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing his body into riki’s side who sat next to him. “is this place haunted?” 

“layla must be--!” jake frantically says while his body shoots up to stand, but layla trots in from the kitchen at the sound of her name. she tilts her head at jake who feels his heart drop to his stomach. 

heeseung stands slowly and starts to walk down the foyer when the stairway begins. jake is right on his tail, rushing behind him. the other boys sit in silent confusion, looking amongst each other before whispering different theories. 

jake grabs heeseung’s arm to spin him around. his grip is so tight that heeseung can feel jake’s racing pulse and trembling body through it. jake’s mouth falls open but no words come out. his eyes are telling enough. they’re crazed, wide and fearful. 

“jake,” heeseung’s voice is quiet, “what’s upstairs? and don’t lie because i swear i saw someone.” his hands place to jake’s shoulders, trying to hold his shaking body still. he stares at jake and the pressure that jake feels makes him crumble. he knows he’s caught. 

he looks down to his feet, his grip on heeseung’s arm bruisingly hard, “can you keep a secret?” is all he can whisper.

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, or translate my content ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

first writing for this account >.< it’s been a longgg time since i wrote ff and it’s my first time writing smut so im sorry if it’s lacking :’) feedback & reblogs are appreciated🪽!!

[81pastrys]

hi hi! i love ur work sm! can u write lando gf where shes a biter and basically he’ll be doing the most random stuff and then she’ll bite him gently. like it’s j her thing, and she doesn’t care if they’re in public or w their friends or alone, she j does it. an intrusive thought if u will

Love Bites

Summary— Lando’s girlfriend adapted a habit of giving him ‘love bites’ and he just went along with it.

Warnings— biting (gently) ; sexual reference

A/N— this is short I’m sorry 😭

Lando One Shots

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Lando had no clue what provoked the behavior in his girlfriend, but she would randomly bite him. He didn’t mind, it wasn’t to hurt him or with force. It was more of a reaction and an impulse.

“Baby why do you bite me?” He asked one night questioning the behavior. She shrugged and just said she didn’t know. It got to a point where Jon was concerned, not that she left any bruises, but that it was becoming noticeable around the paddock that she was doing it.

“Mate, you’ve got to tell her something.” Jon laughed. Lando laughed with him and basically blew him off. Oscar noticed, other drivers noticed, and their team definitely noticed.

They were hugging after a race and when she tried to do it and he held her face in front of his. “Baby, why do you feel the need to bite me?” He was serious and she was taken aback, he never questioned it and now he was.

“They’re love bites, I can’t help it.” She said, worrying that she was hurting him. “I don’t mean to but you, am I? I can stop.” She said. He smiled at her and gave her a quick kiss.

“Love bites yeah?” He confirmed. “Let’s save them for just the bedroom then.” He whispered in her ear. She blushed, but agreed to keep them contained while out and about. Now when Jon repeated himself it was because of the bruises she had left. On his shoulders, torso, even his thighs had little teeth marks.

“Lando, I told you tell her not to do it. Now she’s leaving marks?” Jon mentioned, they were doing workouts when he noticed. “Is this consensual or?”

“I told her she could yeah.” Lando said casually. “That was our agreement at least, I told her not to do it in public and she doesn’t.” He laughed hoping Jon would catch on to the innuendo.

Over the breaks however, she wouldn’t just contain them to the bedroom. They would be out shopping and if she leaned her head on him she’d take a gentle bite or if they were out with friends she’d do it. Lando just accepted the fate of the love bites she so called them. It was her little way of saying ‘I love you’ without saying it verbally.

Their friends understood it after a while, just a silent confirmation that he was there and acknowledged her.

Again apologies for the short fic, I am rushing some through 😭😭😭

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[nieceeee]

"Look In Your Eyes, Yeah it's dangerous."

Pairing: ony x reader

PS: Ony is trying to figure out exactly who he is dating because the girl he is looking at right now?... he has no clue who you are.

A/N: I was writing and this took on a mind of its own. But...enjoy? lmao. SMUT MINORS DNI, ony x reader

You were a liar.

He didn't want to admit it but it was true. Your entire personality, everything he thought he knew was a lie. Your innocent eyes holding nothing but deceit. He would’ve realized it had he actually paid attention. Instead he got caught up in the allure of you. Your beauty. Your kind nature. How he wish he would’ve seen the signs before now. It was fine when he first met you. The cute little brown skin he met at Barnes and Noble. He was in there shopping for books with his niece and nephew. His sister had begged him to take them to the store so that she could have a few moments of peace and Ony, being the man that he is didn't hesitate to do so. He loved his niece and nephew more than anything. So here he was running behind the younger one as the older one made her way to the young adult aisle. “Aye boy. Chill out. We ina bookstore not a playground.” Ony calls out behind his nephew. His tiny giggle rang out as he turned the corner. Ony shakes his head and speeds up slightly to catch him by the snap on his backpack. “I see now why yo mama keep you on a leash.” he mumbles as he snaps the latch back onto the bag. His nephew attempts to run again but the line tightens causing him to halt. “But uncle Ony.” the little boy whines, lip poked out. “Nope. You had your warning and you didn't listen. 5 minutes on until you can chill. Now come on so I can find your sister.” They walk off down row after row until he sees his niece and right next to her? You. For the first time in his life Ony was in awe. Your beauty captivated him in that very moment. He slows his step as he walks closer. You’re standing next to his niece discussing the book, a pile in each of your arms. “If you loved Legendborn, you will for sure love this series.” you speak softly. Your voice sweet as milk and honey. “Also, I would recommend - Oh.” you are startled when he approaches. He was..

He was fine as fuck. 

Your eyes drink him in. His deep mahogany skin seemingly glistening under the bright fluorescent lights of the store. His lips parted as he stares at you and the first thing on your mind is I know he tastes good. “Uh. Hi. I'm sorry. I’m Y/N. Can I help you find anything?” you ask him. He is still wrapped up in your eyes but manages to respond to your question. “Nah. I'm actually here for my niece.” he says. “Come on Uncle Ony, ten more minutes please?” his niece turns to him, her pleading eyes competing against those of her baby brother. Only knows this is a battle he was going to lose. “Jewel.” he groans but her lip pokes out even more. Dammit. “Fine. Jewjewbee. But only 5 minutes.” he relents. Her bright brace faced smile spread across her face, cheeks squishing the corners of her eyes together. “Thank you Uncle Ony! I’ll even take Malachi.” she says hugging her uncle tightly with ehr free arm before grabbing her brother and rushing off. Only lets out a breath and shakes his head. “You seem like you’re really good with them.” your soft voice speaks as you replace the books on the shelves. “Something like that. Uh, I’m Onyankopon. Ony. It's nice to meet you.” he extends his hand. You take it and it's not hard for him to see just how small it was compared to him. “You come here often? Or is this just a one time thing.’ you ask as he finally releases you. “It can be more as long as you’re here.” he lets out. You press your lips together, heat rising in your body. “Well.” you say stepping up to him. “I guess I’ll see you soon.” you smile before walking past him. It was then that Ony, much to his niece’s delight, became a B&N member and frequent customer.

If only he had known what he was getting himself into then. This could’ve been avoided. All of this. Those sweet innocent eyes that offered him so much. Glistening when you saw him in the store. Shining when he would pick you up on dates. Glossed over as he asked you to be his. All that time that had passed and those eyes told him everything. But these eyes, the ones that are staring at him now. He had never seen these eyes before. Or maybe he had and just wasn’t paying attention. Because those same eyes. Those same fucking eyes were staring in his soul right now. There was no innocence. There was nothing soft about the way your eyes lit flames in his body as he stared up at you. Ony was so fucking confused. How the hell did he get here? The sweet fingers that he held that day now wrapped softly around his neck, pressing into his pulse. 

Those fucking eyes.

Staring into his soul as your hips grind against him, tip kissing your cervix while you move in counterclockwise circles. “Fuck mama, please.” his moans echo in your ears, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Does it feel good pa? Tell me it feels good.” You coo as your pussy clenches around him, fingers squeezing a bit tighter. Ony’s eyes roll to the back of his head. How had he missed the signs? Where was the sweet, shy girl he met at the bookstore. The one his niece raves about. The one his nephew adores. Where was the girl who planted soft kisses to his cheek as he dropped her off from dates. Who the fuck was this woman who had his toes curling and fists clenching at his sides. The way you took his dick so effortlessly, dragging multiple orgasms from his body. Your pussy dripping with both your arousals. “Come on pa, talk to me.” you whine, pressing your feet flat into the bed as you bounce up and down on his length. “Yes mamas. You feel so fucking good.” he praises. “Fuck, yes tell me more.” you preen. “Shit baby. You ride that dick so fucking good baby. I'm so proud of you.” his responses are breathless, broken in between groans but he gives you what you’re asking for. “Thank you pa. Fuck, I'm cumming again.” you scream out riding out yet another orgasm. His breath was heavy as you finally slow down, mind still processing everything that happened. Finally, he manages to meet your eyes again. You were back to normal. That innocent look in stark contrast to what you had just done to him. Naked body coated in afterglow, you lean forward and plants a kiss on his lips. 

“You still meeting my family today, right?”

[theemporium]

Hi Cece I hope you’re doing well and happy F1 being back!! So I heard this song the other day (https://open.spotify.com/track/654XTpkoachnc4HT2Fi3Fn?si=gwGZ3uZmQ6-gT7s0jRm8yA) and it’s been absolutely stuck in my head and I was wondering if you could write a Quinn blurb based on the song? I just love how you write him sm!! Thank you so much!!

thank you for requesting! hopefully lived up to the song!!🫶🏽

.

For most of his life, Quinn had only ever been really obsessed with one thing and that was hockey.

It had always been hockey.

Since he could remember, his life revolved around hockey and he loved it. His parents played hockey. Their jobs were hockey. They moved around the country for hockey. He played it with his brothers, with his friends, with new teams as he moved up and up and up the leagues. His college life also revolved around hockey. His life had always been about hockey.

And honestly, Quinn never had any problems with it. 

He loved hockey and hockey loved him back enough to lead him to the NHL, so he really had very few complaints. And though he knew logically that it was possible, he never really thought he would find something he loved as much as he loved hockey, especially when it was already so intertwined with his family and friends and teams. 

Until he met you. 

It was ironic that you didn’t have a single clue about hockey. Despite living in Vancouver for work, you had never really given the sport much thought. You barely knew what the team was called, let alone knew who the captain was. Your life was so far from hockey that Quinn almost couldn’t quite believe that he could love you—love someone so detached from hockey—as much as he did. 

But he did. He loved you so much that days of just thinking about hockey were long gone and now replaced with days where he thought about you.

Quinn’s brain was a mix of the two: how he really should ask for the power kill footage from the Tampa game, what you wanted to have for dinner, if he should ask coach to run a few more speed drills at the next practice, if he should pick up a sweet treat on the way home so you could enjoy it after work. 

Quinn found himself thinking of you as much as he thought about hockey, and it was a little disorienting to come to terms with. 

But then there were moments like this, he thought to himself, as he slowly entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. He had been away on a roadie all week, an east coast one that left time zones getting in the way of any long phone calls with you. He was tired and desperate to crawl into his bed for the first time in days, to crawl into bed next to you. 

And when he walked into the apartment and saw you curled up on the couch, in one of his Canucks hoodies with the TV playing some highlights from the most recent road trip, he could have sworn his heart swooned and practically burst in his chest.

Because it was moments like this where it was so easy to accept, to understand why he loved you as much as he loved hockey.

“Quinn? That you?”

He abandoned the suitcase by the door, quickly making his way deeper into the apartment as he settled down on the edge of the couch, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You slowly blinked your eyes open, giving him a sleepy smile. “Missed you.” 

And Quinn couldn’t help but smile back. “Missed you too, babe.”

.

[ezisregrettinglifedecisions]

for the record (since he lost the poll), i would read it if you wrote the logan sargeant fix it fic, there is a much lack of ls2 fics

I would never murder your boss... - LS2

Pairing - Fem! Girlfriend! Reader x Logan Sargeant Warnings - Reader is high key insane, mentions of fire, mentions of murder in a joke manner, ketchup Type - Written Fic Word Count - 1.9k Summary - When Logan's seat is in jepordy his very very very insane girlfriend is ready to go to war with his boss to get it back. Little does anyone know how terrified James still is of her after... "The Incident of Miami 2023" Links - My main masterlist is here A/N - When I say reader is insane, I mean there is some serious insanity, this is entirely a crack fic, no I don't know why this was the way I wrote it but I hope its a bit funny to those who do read it. Also, two fics in one day is unheard of for me so be very grateful!

Requests are open! Hope you enjoy it! 🩵

“Baby you home?” You called into the apartment. 

A muffled ‘in here’ could be heard from your shared bedroom as you headed towards where your boyfriend would most likely be.

The bed dipped as you sat on the edge, starting to stroke Logan's hair. “What's going on baby? You want to talk about it?”

He sighed sitting upright against the headboard. “Work sucks.”

You smiled softly, “Oh Logan, I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine Y/n there's nothing you can do.”

You smirked slightly, putting your head on his chest, “Well I mean…”

“Y/n…” Logan warned playfully. “How many times have I told you. You can't murder my boss.”

“Oh come onnnnnn,” You whined, “You know Alex would thank me as well. And we both know all of your fans would be prepared to ride with me.”

He laughed at that, a smile gracing his features for the first time since you had come in. “Baby I can't condone murder or kidnapping or whatever dark thing it is that you're planning. But I love you so much for being so prepared to go to war with James for me. Again.”

You grinned, closing your eyes as Logan pulled you in even tighter and slowly the pair of you drifted off into sleep where step one of your schemes were formed.

Step 1 - Lily Muni He, Alex Albon and Oscar Piastri

The first person you ran into in the Spa paddock was none other than your closest paddock friend, Lily. With both of you frequenting the Williams garage it made sense that you became closer over time often spending time with one another while your respective boyfriends went racing. 

“Hi Lily!” You had called after her as she walked ahead of you on her way to Williams hospitality and she spun round once she heard your voice softly smiling, as she waited for you to catch up.

“Hi Y/n, are you heading to hospitality?” 

You nodded thinking for a moment on how to phrase your next few sentences. “This might sound deluded and insane but I have an idea for something.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning?”

“Logan's been having a rough time with James and I want to…have a few words with Mr. Vowles.”

She chuckled before nodding. “Okay sure. I'm in. Should I get Alex to help?”

Beaming, you quickly said yes. Alex would prove useful and it meant that you could now head onto your final target. Oscar Jack Piastri.

☆☆☆

Logan had no clue where it was that you had run off to. As soon as the pair of you had entered the paddock you had shot off in the general direction of the hospitality centres. And since then he had neither heard from nor seen you and only received a smirk from Alex when he encountered his teammate and asked after your location. He apprehensively looked behind him just to check that the Williams hospitality was not on fire, and with a relieved sigh he was able to turn away from the building, confident that it was not the target of whatever mayhem you were planning on raising. 

He turned back to the direction he was initially intending to travel and almost jumped at the sight of you standing in front of him, the most unnerving smile sitting on your face.

“Fuck! What the- Y/n you scared the shit out of me… stop smiling like that it's creepy.”

“Smiling like what Logan?” You said, your head tilting to the side like some sort of creepy horror doll.

“Please tell me that's not how you normally smile because I will break up with you otherwise.”

Y/n shook her head, letting her face fall into a gently amused expression. “A girl can’t even have fun anymore.”

“What are you scheming?”

“Me? Scheme? Never.”

“Y/n…” Logan warned

“Toodles! I’m off! Bye Logie!”

“Y/n don’t you walk away! What are you doing? Oh, no, yeah and you’re gone… why do I even bother at this point.”

Logan could see your retreating form and sighed, he was genuinely terrified for whoever was going to end up on the receiving end of your scheming.

☆☆☆

Y/n practically skipped up to Oscar, who was unaware of your rapid approach as he ate a plate of food his trainer had prepared for him.

“Oscar!” You called out giving him a polite wave.

“Wow you have seriously got to stop sneaking up on people. Nearly gave me a heart attack.” Oscar said after he almost launched himself out of his chair in pure shock.

“Me? Sneak up on someone? Never. Anyways. Logan.”

Oscar blinked at her.

“Is that Oscar for continue? I’m going to take it as Oscar for continue… okay well as I’m very sure you’re aware, Logan has a slight… how should I put it… issue… with his team principal who is known for being ever so lovely to him. And I was wondering if you would be so kind as to help me with my plan to… set their relationship back on track.” You smiled innocently at the end, hoping to sway Oscar into helping you.

“Sure.” Nothing more, nothing less, just sure. No hesitation. Oscar cared. 

You gave him a knowing smile. “I’m so glad Logie has a best friend like you.”

“Logie?” 

“Please don’t question it.”

Oscar shook his head slightly and put his hands in the air as if to surrender. “Noted.”

It was time for step 2.

☆☆☆

Step 2 - Actually get into Williams hospitality

Now, to many people this would be simple, especially so if you were dating one of the drivers. However unless under strict supervision, you weren’t exactly allowed in.

All it takes is one incident and a girls privileges are taken.

Even if that incident did involve fire, a lot of screaming, a pig, a chicken and A LOT of ketchup.

But come on thats hardly grounds to place you under what as might as well be babysitting. That is where Lily came in. While Lily was your best friend in the paddock, she was also the one most trusted to make sure you came into no contact with any of the items in the aforementioned list. So she would be the perfect reason to allow you into the hospitality.

Lily was walking by your side through the paddock the occasional Williams employee staring in shock or running away crying but by this point it was normal and the rumours that Logan was “dating an absolutely psychopathic witch” had mostly died down other than the few who were still calling for you to be permanently banned due to what had become known as “The Incident of Miami 2023”.

The pair of you reached Williams hospitality and for once, no one stopped and tried to beg you to leave before “IT” occurred again.

Lily smiled politely to the people she met on their hopefully inconspicuous journey to the back door where Alex would be letting Oscar in.

You made it without being spotted and got to the back door where Alex stood next to a very conspicuous Oscar, thus completing step 2.

☆☆☆

The more time Logan spent away from you the more dread that slowly filled his body. And the very noticeable lack of Oscar, Lily and Alex certainly was not calming his nerves.

He’d asked the mechanics, the photographers, the other Williams employees, who granted he should have warned them before uttering your name seeing as 12 out of the 15 he asked ran away crying. Turns out people were not at all as over “The Incident of Miami 2023” as they portrayed themselves to be.

So all in all his day seemed to be getting progressively worse. Once again he tentatively turned around to check that once again the Williams hospitality was not on fire. And once again he was relieved to find that no, it was not on fire. 

But that raised another scary question that,  much to his fear he still did not know the answer to, what were you scheming.

You had your scheming face on the last time he spoke to you.

And the scheming face meant one of two things - 

Someone was going to die.

Or something was going to be set on fire.

The scheming face could not leave your face soon enough.

Logan was tempted to fall to his knees right then and there, surrounded by people and begin to pray. Though evaluating that further, that would probably have taken him off the trusted “babysitters” for Y/n and he really needed to stay on that list.

Luckily for him though he had turned around at the right moment and missed Alex sneaking Oscar into Williams hospitality, that would have truly sent him over the edge.

☆☆☆

Step 3 - The final one

You stood off to the side of the door. The door you definitely were not supposed to be anywhere near. The door that could cause the employees of Williams flash backs if they saw you anywhere near it.

James Vowles’ door.

Alex and Oscar were ahead of you and Lily had gone to distract the people in the main office so no one noticed the screams which had even odds of occurring.

Alex knocked and opened the door. James startled when he saw Oscar and then, when you entered the small office, his wheeled chair ended up as close to the wall as possible he attempted to get even closer when he noticed the small lighter in your hand.

“Well hello there James.”

“He can have the seat.”

You looked at Oscar and Alex confused. “What?”

“Logan, I’m assuming the reason you’re here is because you want him to have the seat. He can have it just get out.” James was practically flat against the wall, attempting to put as much distance between you and himself.

“Well this was disappointingly easy.”

“Please no more fire! No more ketchup! Please!” James seemed to be trying desperately to open the window.

“Relax, relax the lighter doesn’t have any fuel. You’ll be nice to Logan?” She narrowed her eyes.

James frantically nodded.

“You won’t throw him aside like some old piece of paper?”

James shook his head.

“Oh… well… this is pretty awkward… didn’t really need everyone else did I? Well thanks I guess James. See you round!” You said cheerfully.

“You don’t need babysitters anymore! Just please leave me alone! Forever preferably!” James called out after them, causing a satisfied grin to break out on your face at the idea of no longer having to have supervision in Williams hospitality.

Plan save Logan’s seat was completed. Although a bit anticlimactic at the end.

☆☆☆

You skipped happily up to Logan’s side, slipping your hand into his and swinging your arms.

He narrowed his eyes. 

“Y/n care to explain why I just got an email about my excellent work this season and talks being arranged for my contract extension.”

You faked a gasp, a hand going to your throat to clasp at your necklace. “Me? Be involved in something like that? Never.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I’m sensing a pattern here. Every time you say your little “never” it means you’ve done it.”

You blinked innocently at him.

“Thank you. For whatever it is you did.” He said drawing you close to him. “ Just please tell me you didn’t murder my boss.”

“I would never murder your boss…”

“Y/n!”

The logan fic as requested xx @insanedeathwish although about 5 months too late

Thank you so much for reading! 🩵

Requests are open if you wish <3

[slaaverin]

What is up with this entire fandom jumping on the erasure of Jikook's bond? The Jikook who for years were commuting everywhere together and pissing everyone off? The jikook who were always together and glued during memories and pissing everyone off? The Jikook who got their "fanservice" title specifically because of how much time they spent together on and off camera and behind the scenes? So much so their interactions were accused of being company forced and scripted. Couldn't be because they loved spending time together, there had to be a company agenda, accusations.

But today Suddenly people are even drifting from Fanservice, to just completely erasing them cause its easier for them. Threads being created saying JK is closest to this member and always has been or Jimin is closet to this member and always has been. Lies Jikook don't ever spend time together outside of work. Reporting real moments of Jikook for copyright. Excluding Jikook from basically everything. Lies saying Jk has rode with x member for years or Jimin has always rode with x member for years. Lies Jikook travel with other people and always have, but Jikook only travel together for Hybe content. Lies they aren't together in the military. A complete rewrite of Jikook's history and also a rewrite of JIkook's history with other members. And if you notice alot of these antis pushing these theories are newish fans. And what is sad is you won't see a single veteran OT7 correct them, cause they want Jikook to not exist in this fandom anyone either. IG era destroyed this fandom, but really Chapter 2 made this place go mad to the point there is no going back and they're hell bent on erasing Jikook and only Jikook. I hate to go there, but it really seems like a direct attack stemmed from homophobia, since they're attacking the only two members who act like a couple or have literally been asked by their members, if they are a couple. We know what y'all antis are.

I agree with you anon.

I think there's no denying it can only be homophobia.

This erasure goes so far that it seriously became insane.

But you know what? This is a true call for every jikookers, supporters like us out there to be AS LOUD AS POSSIBLE.

Tweet about jikook, make threads, tumblr posts, edits, love letters on any social media plateform. It's a call to every one of us to share our voice, opinions, love, support about jikook in any way we can.

The only way you can fight darkness is by shining light. Many of us have been reflecting jikook's light and love to spread it further and I beg everyone to keep doing it.

As long as we will be there, continously showing support jikook will never be erased. The truth will be kept safe and live on.

I swear to you, even if all these people are more than us in numbers, they will never be able to change reality. They will never be able to completely instinguish that love because it lives through all of us.

I don't care whatever low tactics they use to push their agenda of hate, we need to stand strong and stand tall, and keep our integrity to protect jikook's love.

I think all of us know this is the right thing to do. All of us who connect with their bond, and love Jimin & Jungkook unconditionally, and wanna show support must be prepared because the next few months is gonna be especially rough.

You're right, chapter 2 was a divider in this fandom, now everyone is looking out for themselves only, pushing their own selfish narratives, brainwashing new armys who have no clue.

Of course we naively want the reunion to make everything right but let's face it, it's not gonna happen. At least not right away. No.

At first it's gonna be absolute chaos.

Much like it has been.

When jikook will reunite the hate will reach a new insane peak.

So that's why us jikookers need to be ready for it.

If not us, than who else?

When reunion happens, I wish each of us will be as loud as possible, as supportive as possible.

I truly cannot stand the idea that hate will win, however the number of haters, however insane it gets. I can't tolerate that. I won't.

You know that what jikook have, it's something so precious and beautiful and pure and true, I cannot bear the idea of ANYONE, no matter hateful they are, to affect even a little bit their bond. I don't want psychopaths to affect jikook in any way.

But look how far they go? Look how deep the hate is? At some point, some time, it only need one event where haters can truly mess things up.

We say it's only on the internet. We say it doesn't affect them.

This is not true. The members have received death threats before. Insane people have stalked Jungkook before.

Jimin disappeared from social media because of the hate.

Saying it doesn't affect them is an illusion.

It does, it can, and if it continues down this path, it will.

You only need one deranged individual.

One psycho that took the narrative a little bit too seriously. One psycho whose hate goes deep enough that they are willing to do the unthinkable and actually try to harm jikook.

It's not all fun and games. What's happening right now down the line can have true consequences.

We might think what we do doesn't matter. We think we are only one voice drowned in the ocean of hate but I disagree.

As people who love Jimin & Jungkook, who care for them, it matters.

Even one voice matters.

Because what if jikook do a live, and get hundreds of messages of hate, and suddenly feel very down because of it? But what if in the midst of all they see support? And it makes them smile even for a second? That's already a big fucking victory.

So everyone, I know everything is very discouraging and infuriating and unfair, I know we're drowning in hate and angry at this fandom, but please do not give up.

Don't give up on Jimin & Jungkook.

I think in this chapter we truly saw they only have us.

The hate is getting bigger and more twisted than ever, but it only means we need to show up even more for them. We need to be so loud it covers the noise.

Honestly that's all we can do.

So let's focus on this and spread positivity. Spread their love. Spread their history. Spread the truth as you know it. Spread your opinions. Spread videos and photos and edits no matter how many times they want to copyright it.

We need to keep pushing. We need to stay united.

We need to be prepared for this next chapter that will be a hell of a ride for everyone, us, as for jikook.

I don't know about you, but love is the most important thing to me. If we don't fight for it, then what even to fight for?

Will we all get squished and reduced to silence by the hate and the bullying? Will jikook's love be twisted so much it ends up affecting them and ruining everything? Will we let them win? Even if we are outnumbered?

I refuse. For real. I refuse.

I don't care how insufferable we get. I don't care how loud we scream. I don't even care if we need to bring support banners to concerts to tell you the truth. I don't care if we say the wrong thing and the whole world starts bullying us and put us and jikook down.

I will never stop cherishing jikook's love and shoving it in everyone's face. I will never stay silent.

Preserving what is beautiful and true and precious IS IMPORTANT. It's not important only when it comes to jikook but in the world in general!

It's important because I think each of us wants this world to become a better place, not a worse one.

A place where jikook are free to be who they are, to love however they want, to be their fullest self, in total freedom.

A place where people with different sexualities can express themselves without fear.

A place where love is celebrated and encouraged and valued above all else.

I don't know about you, but that's what I want.

So really, let's protect this ideal, and do what we can - stick together and speak and share and support.

At least we will be able to say we will have done our very best.

💜

[stxrsniolo]

♰ֻㅤ۫ㅤֵ⠀𝅥⠀ the ninths ꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱⠀⠀ִ⠀﹚⠀❟ㅤ

ㅤ◜ ✴ ⠀ 𓈒ㅤ ﹙forbidding neighbor!matt x deathly curious!reader﹚─── ⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ rhea, cursed by her curiosity, faces the fallout of uncovering matt’s secret: a world of killers tied to their birth date. after witnessing the murder, she wrestles with telling her parents but is paralyzed by fear and doubt. matt pressures her to join his “pack” or flee, as she grapples with paranoia, guilt, and the looming threat to her family. ㅤ ㅤㅤ( ˖ ࣪★˳ ) : panic + death + violence + emotional turmoil + obsession + paranoia + horror + murder + psychological tension → dark fiction .

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( aegan's notes )﹕this piece is heavily based on damian, a work by alex mirez. tread carefully; the shadows you'll encounter here echo those from her dark narrative.

my greatest flaw had always been curiosity, too much of it; and like everything, it came with harsh, ugly consequences—ones i was now choking on in the worst way possible.

standing alone at my front door sent shudders through me, paranoia sinking its teeth in deep. how could it not? knowing matthew was leaving, even if just two houses down, left me feeling raw, exposed, a sitting duck pinned under a spotlight. i couldn’t dare ask him to stay—grumpy, hateful bastard that he was, my presence clearly grated on him—so i had to scrape together some guts to do what needed doing, solo: tell my parents everything.

i slipped inside, easing the door shut with a care i didn’t understand, like making noise might summon something i couldn’t face. mom had to be home by now; she always rolled in at four from her gig as general manager of asfil’s top bakeries, a clockwork routine.

just thinking about telling her i had to leave made me question if i even should. i mean, how the hell do you confess to your parents that you’ve got to bolt because you stumbled onto proof the neighbor’s a killer, tied to a whole damn underworld of murderers? i could scratch off the idea of matthew pulling some sick prank. i’d seen it myself—the purple trench coat bastard carving up that guy in the woods.

but that wasn’t the part that stuck in my throat.

alone in the safe, quiet cocoon of my living room, i could admit the real gut-punch in matthew’s confession: the bit about them being born on the ninth of the ninth month, some twisted cosmic trigger that made them crave blood. if i overanalyzed it—and christ, i loved overanalyzing shit—it tied into nature itself.

that was my wheelhouse.

between books, late-night deep dives into shady research, tv shows, and elise’s wild tales, i could piece it together: it was real, and i had to save my ass. if i didn’t, a knife in my gut was my fate once they sniffed out i was just… normal.

“normal,” i muttered. weird how being that was suddenly wrong when the rest of this festering world swore it was the only thing right.

“mom?” i called from the living room.

i went to shrug off my bag like always, let it flop onto the couch, but then remembered i’d lost it in the woods—phone and all. i stared at the empty spot, a hollow ache creeping in.

oh, the couch, the calm, oblivious couch in the calm, oblivious living room. why couldn’t i be that still?

“in the kitchen, baby!” mom’s voice hit me, a knot twisting tight in my throat.

she had no clue. what’d happen when she did? would she buy it? hell no. she’d lose it—worse, she’d crack the damn earth open. that was mom: impulsive, fearless, sometimes a total pain in the ass.

i shuffled toward the kitchen, spotting her chopping veggies. she was all about healthy eats; ironic for a woman swimming in pastries and bread all day, but i loved her cooking anyway.

mom was a health nut through and through, kept herself slim, but those green eyes—mirror images of mine—were starting to show their age.

“how’d your day go? school good?” she asked, flashing a wide, warm smile that steadied me a little.

“yeah, everything’s been great,” i lied. “dad?”

“he’s late tonight, work’s piling up, called to say so.”

“cool. uhhhh, i wanna talk to you both at dinner, then,” i said, realizing my mistake the second it slipped out.

mom’s brow furrowed, and she set the knife down slow, its blade catching the light in a way that jolted me. i fought to hide it.

“something wrong? school trouble? bullying? oh god, i’ve seen those tv shows, rhea, honey, we love you, you’re worth everything. don’t you dare think about hurting yourself! no, no, no, stay grounded, always grounded. i thought it couldn’t happen to you, you’re so bright, you’ve changed—” she rattled it off so fast i couldn’t cut in. “don’t think being eighteen stops me, i’ll sue that damn school! nobody messes with my girl! tell me exactly what’s going on!”

“mom! mom!” i broke in when i finally got a breath. “it’s not that, no. nobody’s bullying me. stop watching those shows, please.”

carmindy—mom’s real name—pressed a hand to her chest, letting out a dramatic sigh of relief. “oh, that’s a weight off,” she said, then went right back to slicing veggies like nothing happened. “so, what’s up? tell me now, i’ll fill your dad in later, you know he tunes out everything but food at dinner.”

and he did—dinner, sometimes lunch, he’d come home ravenous, plow through two plates of mom’s light cooking because one never cut it, but his appetite wasn’t the issue.

i’d just clocked something: i couldn’t breathe a word about matthew’s secret.

tell her—the woman who’d just vowed to sue anyone who crossed me? spill a story that sounded like it crawled out of a lunatic’s head unless you’d seen it? say we had to move now or a pack of killers would carve up my face? a faint memory—or maybe just a gut scream—echoed in my skull: don’t talk. don’t say it. don’t tell.

and i wouldn’t, no way, because she’d never buy it, and it’d end bad for me.

it always ended bad for me—that’s how i knew i couldn’t spill what was churning in my brain. telling my parents was as dangerous as stumbling into matthew’s world in the first place.

i jumped when the kitchen phone shrilled, nerves still raw. mom wiped her hands on her floral apron and picked it up. i stood stiff as a board.

“hello? who? oh, hi! weird you’re calling. yep, she’s here, hang on. rhea, it’s for you.”

weird. who’s calling? matthew’s name flashed in my head, why would he call here? to rat me out to my folks? my heart slammed against my ribs, the room going eerily quiet. i edged to the wall by the fridge where the phone hung, hands shaking as i pressed it to my ear.

“yeah?” i croaked, swallowing hard.

“ding-dong, who’s crashing the big shindig?” olivia’s voice sang through, a lilting rhyme that made me exhale in relief. “i’ve called your cell like ten times—no answer! know how long it’s been since i rang your house? back when we’d gab all night about the O.C.— we were so tiny!”

“battery died, sorry,” i lied, glancing sideways to make sure mom wasn’t eavesdropping.

“then charge that thing! i need to send you pics of my outfit options for tonight’s party, i can’t pick!”

“the party… yeah, about that, i’m not going.”

“what?!” she screeched. “why? beause of elise’s crap about that stupid bet? come on, if she had her way, we’d all be nuns!”

“no, not the bet. i’m just… tired, you know?” another lie.

“rhea, it’s our last year, we swore we’d hit every event, every party, live it up! you can’t bail!”

“i know, i know. i’m sorry, i’m just wiped.”

“wiped? nothing a party and a few drinks can’t fix! we’ll go for a couple hours, then bounce—come on, please! don’t turn into elise 2.0!”

for a split second, i wanted to spill it all over the line, but if mom couldn’t know, olivia sure as hell couldn’t either.

“i won’t be elise 2.0, it’s just… i’m…” my voice faltered, no clue what to say, so i faked a cough, dropping to a rasp. “i’m getting sick, got a fever. you think i don’t wanna go? i’m dying to, but mom won’t let me out like this, she’s freaking out, she didn’t want me catching anything, you know how she gets…”

“oh! i know all about mrs. carmindy when you’re sick. fine, i’ll leave you be tonight, but don’t pull that excuse again. get better and if you change your mind, text me!” she hung up. i slotted the phone back, darting out of the kitchen before mom could pounce with questions.

i stopped in the living room, letting out a shaky breath. It felt like too much was clawing at me from the inside, like i was scared to even peek out the window. witnessing a murder, then finding out about a pack of killers? not exactly light news. my stomach churned as it hit me: staying quiet made me complicit.

i got it, i was tangled up in a brutal crime now.

i nearly hyperventilated. only thing that stopped a full-on panic attack was a knock at the door—sharp, deliberate, no bell, just fists on wood.

that same jittery dread from olivia’s call spiked again. i crept toward the door, hesitating. a flood of nightmare scenes flashed through my head, but i gripped the knob and yanked it open.

nobody. just my bag, sitting there on the stoop, streaked with dirt and grass. i snatched it, slammed the door, and bolted upstairs to my room. i wanted to lock everything—door, window, the whole damn house—but it’d be pointless, as pointless as letting fear eat me alive. i couldn’t stop the terror, but i could at least try to see this mess without losing my mind.

break it down: everything was fucked, royally fucked.

but didn’t i, more than anyone, know you could claw your way out of awful shit? problem was, this wasn’t just a bad spot—it was a colossal, deadly mess, and i’d kicked it off. me and my meddling.

i stared at the bag in my hands, dirt smudged across it, and knew only matthew could’ve dropped it there. knew, too, it was his way of hammering home that his secret was real, and now i was in it.

that night, i didn’t even eat; the second my head hit the pillow, silent tears soaked it, the image of that guy getting stabbed burned into my brain.

morning hit like a slap, the alarm jolting me out of bed.

i’d slept, somehow, but felt like i hadn’t shut my eyes. in the bathroom mirror, i tried convincing myself it could be a normal day, or at least fake it if i tried hard enough. those purple shadows under my eyes? nothing if i willed it. with effort, i could shove the nerves down. so i showered, dressed, and trudged downstairs to eat alone like always, mom and dad long gone for work.

stepping out for school, i paused, scanning the sidewalk stretching past the house. empty. i lingered, half-expecting matthew to slink by, but he didn’t, so i started walking, jumpy as hell, eyes darting everywhere, clutching my bag straps like a lifeline.

every few steps, leaving the shaky safety of home behind, though how safe was it, really? i half-thought the purple trench coat guy would pop up, those murky blue eyes boring into me, fear dripping off him. paranoid? sure, but didn’t i have damn good reason?

the trek dragged on forever until asfil central Institute loomed into view. its buildings still had that old-school vibe with ochre walls, massive windows olivia called chocolate bars. the town’s main school, it’d been there forever, growing over the years. they’d tacked on wings when it doubled as an elementary too, so it was a swarm of kids to teens, always loud as hell. never been so glad for the chaos until now.

seeing that flood of students buzzing around eased me a bit. with this many bodies, who’d pick me out? i crossed the waxed path flanked by glossy, wet grass and stepped inside, a flicker of safety hitting me. nothing could touch me here, not with teachers eyeballing everything.

in geography class, i plopped into my usual seat next to elise, who was nose-deep in a book—typical. she read more than me, way more than olivia. not that i didn’t, but elise lived in those pages.

i set out my notebook and pencil, only to jump at a syrupy voice cutting through the room:

“good morning!” olivia flicked a strand of platinum blonde from her face, flashing a perfect cherry-lipped smile. she was gorgeous and owned it, strutting it for all to see. a few mumbled back greetings.

anyone eyeballing her might peg her as the mean, popular blonde cliché. truth was, she had charm—won people over, not cruel, just real. folks around her clocked the difference between spite and honesty. couldn’t hate her, not even for being loud, outgoing, sometimes too sweet.

“you’re really out here tanking our self-esteem,” i teased as she sauntered over.

our desks were for two, but olivia perched on ours until the teacher showed.

“not on purpose,” she shot back, tossing waves to the room over our heads. “you know that’s not me—i just like sparking some joy, and i can’t do that if i’m not buzzing too. joy’s loud, right? spreads the vibe like cheerleaders! i love giving everyone a good morning, making ‘em feel alive.”

“oh, what’d their lives be without your hellos?” elise drawled, eyes still glued to her book.

“i’ve wondered that, pretty sure they’d smile less…” olivia said, a real twinge of sadness in her voice.

elise looked up, scowling, and grabbed her geography text—earth on the cover. she angled it so olivia could see.

“see this?” she asked, tapping the planet. olivia nodded, curious. “that’s the world with your hellos. now this—” she flipped it to the same earth on the back. “—the world without. spot a difference? no? because there isn’t one.”

olivia got it fast, her brows sinking, nose scrunching so hard i burst out laughing.

“that’s your miserable world. in happy people land, we ignore wannabe comedians who aren’t funny,” she snapped, flipping elise the bird. elise smirked, victorious, and sank back into her book.

then olivia blindsided me. “you look good. didn’t think you’d show after that fever. forced to come?”

“i got better,” i said, aiming for calm. “mom’s got killer remedies.”

“perfect!” olivia chirped, hopping off to chat up some guys two desks over. i exhaled quietly, only to catch elise side-eyeing me.

“so, what’s the real story?” she asked, voice low.

“what story?” i played dumb. elise was sharp, i couldn’t dodge that.

“you, last night, fever?” she flipped a page, cool as ice. “that’s what you told olivia. what’s the actual reason you skipped the party?”

“oh, the bet thing bugged me,” i lied, tossing in some nonchalance to throw her off. “stayed home, watched the x-factor.”

elise’s face soured, she wasn’t buying it, but all she could do was fake it and read. i’d lit a spark of doubt, though, and part of me wondered if i should tell her. she was the steadiest of us, the smartest.

problem was, this was heavy: murder wasn’t small potatoes, and i was complicit, i saw it, didn’t snitch. that, plus the fear, was gnawing at my skull.

right then, a weird itch crawled over me—like eyes on my back. i glanced over my shoulder, casual as i could, and there he was: matthew, slouched in a corner desk, staring, alone, messy hair as always, arms on the table, hunched like he could vanish, but those dark blue eyes? pure disapproval, no mistaking it.

class ended, everyone bolted; elise and olivia darted ahead, yapping about mall clothing sales—shared vice of theirs—while i lagged, scribbling the board notes i’d zoned out on all hour, distraction’s price.

finished after even the teacher split, i packed up and headed out, but just as i hit the hall, someone yanked my arm, dragging me back in. took a second to register matthew slamming the door, glaring at me like i’d pissed in his coffee.

“you moving? told your parents yet?” he fired off, no pause.

“couldn’t. couldn’t do it,” i admitted. he huffed, head tipping back like he was scraping for patience. i stood frozen, gripping my bag straps. “mom started ranting she’d sue anyone who messed with me! i can’t tell them—you don’t get it, what they’d do! they wouldn’t even believe me, they’d think i’m… crazy.”

“not bad, they’d ship you to a loony bin, you’d be safe there.”

my gut iced over. hated that word, hated it deep. couldn’t even picture being tagged a nutcase.

“what?! i’m not going anywhere!”

“damn it, rhea!” he roared, storming closer, all heat and fury. “you make me wanna strangle you, you know that? so much waffling, i can’t stand it.” i stumbled back, half-thinking he’d actually try. “but i told you i won’t, relax.” he eased off after clocking my flinch, eyeing me head to toe. “why’re you dressed like that?”

thrown, i glanced down at my simple floral sundress, light for asfil’s sticky heat.

“it’s bad? It’s just a dress,” i said, flat.

“it’s ridiculous,” he snapped. cold water dumped on me and i bristled instantly. “we don’t dress like that. or laugh like a jackass like you did earlier.”

“no, you kill. way more normal.”

“you think it’s normal?” he asked, a flicker of something naive in his tone.

“it’s sarcasm, matthew!” i barked, lunging for the door, but he blocked me. “let go!”

“first, stop calling me matthew—call me matt. second, if you’re not leaving, you’ve gotta join this.” his voice dropped, heavy. “still don’t get it? you’re in real danger, rhea.”

i held his stare, hunting for something to trust, but the murder flashed up—him, what i’d once thought he could be. words died in my throat. i tore free and bolted, melting into the hall crowd, sour and stupid for letting his dig about my clothes sting, when some leather-jacketed creep’s opinion shouldn’t matter.

still, i shoved that aside and locked on his last words.

i was in real danger.

second class, i wanted the ground to swallow me and spit me out in some asian backwater. matt didn’t glance my way again; elise rambled about somnium, a new book she’d started, hooked deep. olivia wouldn’t shut up about how she lifted everyone’s spirits, volunteering for grad prep with her “fresh” over-the-top ideas.

morning classes dragged, then the walk home stretched long. i dodged the bus with elise and olivia—ditched them the second i was out—trying to see this from another angle as i cut through town. mom’s, dad’s, olivia’s, elise’s. hers made the most sense: call the cops, get safe. logical as hell.

maybe i should just pick up the phone, spill it all, sell matt out, find some peace.

i got home, leaning against the door a sec, the silence inside was thick, like it’d teamed up with my fears to rattle me more. i dumped my bag on the couch, eyeing the house phone on its little table, ready for me to confess, like it was the natural move. wasn’t it? i edged toward it, hesitant. why so much doubt? i lifted it, punched the first digit—

the doorbell shrieked.

i flinched hard, dropping the phone, its coiled cord snapping under the table like a stretched spring. my brain stung with the worst—purple trench coat guy, finger on the bell—but the panic faded fast. could be olivia, dragging me to the mall, or elise, sniffing out my morning lie. could be anyone.

i opened the door, forcing optimism, and there he was.

“oh. forget to say my shoes are ridiculous too?” i quipped, relief leaking into the words. matt squinted, nudging me aside to slink in without asking, shutting the door.

“nah, you already know that,” he said, flat, indifferent. “you’re alone, right?”

“you’re not exactly polite, you know that?” i huffed, arms crossing. “and no, i’m not—”

“i swear i am when it matters,” he cut in, strolling into the living room. i tailed him fast, but he stopped by the couch, near the table where the phone usually sat, now on the floor. he stared at it. so did i, cursing myself. “what were you doing?” he turned, slow.

lie, lie, lie!

“calling olivia, we’re going out,” i said, forcing calm, rooted between the living room and hall.

matt’s brow creased, sharpening those freakish eyes—blue so dark the pupils blurred into them, weird as hell.

“you’re lying,” he said, stepping closer, deliberate. i backed up. “i know when people lie, rhea.”

“i’m not, why would i?” i mumbled.

my back hit the hall wal—no more room. he kept coming, closing in, his polished boots now kissed mine, pinning me with a stare that raked my face like he was digging for something.

“gonna snitch on us? on… me?” he whispered, breath hot on my cheek, goosebumps prickling up.

i was scared shitless—of course i was—but something, some dumb gut whisper, said he wouldn’t hurt me. showing it, though? that could screw me.

“no,” i said, firm. “wasn’t gonna.”

he went quiet, seconds stretching. i braced for him to call bullshit, but he just stepped back, shrugging like it was nothing.

“good, because if you do, they’ll kill you wherever you are: you, anyone with your last name, anyone tied to you. parents, friends, the works. you know that?” he said, casual as hell.

i sucked in a breath, peeling off the wall. snitching wasn’t looking so smart anymore.

it crashed back: real danger, him, the killers i’d glimpsed past that cabin door—all real. the thought of them gutting my family twisted me up. my throat knotted, but i swallowed it. matt wandered the living room, eyeing every knickknack like a museum tourist; photos of me gap-toothed, in kiddie soccer, with cousins, with my folks.

a version of me who didn’t know this secret.

“so, you’re staying, huh?” he said, tracing a finger over one of mom’s weird crafts—a headless, fat woman figurine.

“guess so,” i muttered, watching him close. “don’t touch that, it might break.”

“never break what i don’t mean to,” he said, lingering on it until he felt like stopping. “you scared?” he spat like it was a normal question.

“if i was, would that be wrong?”

“nah, fear’s nice,” he said, voice low, dragging.

“fear of getting murdered is nice,” i echoed, dripping sarcasm so he’d get how insane that sounded. he just leaned closer to inspect another carving.

“not that; panic itself—i like it. not feeling it, seeing it. get me?”

“i get i expected anything from you but this. never thought we’d be in my living room chatting about you liking scared people. not exactly… normal. but you’re not normal.”

“yeah? what tipped you off?” sarcasm, thick. “i know i’m not. neither are you.” he dropped the decor, facing me, calm as a still pond. “someone who won’t take no for an answer when a kid won’t leave his house to play, who keeps spying? not too normal.”

“i was a kid, okay?” i huffed, looking away.

“but you’re not now, and curiosity still owns you,” he said. “if you were so normal, we wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t be in danger, and you wouldn’t be this terrified.”

“at least that’s normal, right? anyone in my spot would be shitting bricks,” i said, flopping onto the big couch.

“we’ll keep you safe from them,” he said, exhaling like it annoyed him more than anything. “we run in packs, watch each other’s backs. mine’s small and loyal as hell. maybe that’s why.”

“oh! a pack. from the makers of ‘i’m a killer and you’re dead’ comes ‘my murder buddies know about you,’” i quipped. he stared, blank.

“guess that’s a joke.”

“nevermind,” i muttered, rolling my eyes. “what do you call killer packs? gotta have a name.”

“like… packs, yeah. we can kill our own—saw that in the woods, probably nicolas settling a score. happens a lot—unfixable beef, strongest takes a life, but in a pack, we bond, swear protection, we keep that until we’re dead,” he said, sinking into the solo couch across me. “mine’s four: chris, tatiana, archie, me. chris and i go way back—told him about you last night, he’s cool with you joining.”

“great, no need to charm them,” i grumbled, flat. “they all kill left and right too?” dumb question, i realized late.

“we all do—some more than others,” he said, no guilt. “our pack’s chill compared to most. we hang, archie guts squirrels for kicks, we drink, that’s it.”

“yeah, squirrel-gutting’s real zen,” i said, faking a nod.

“it is. other packs hunt—practice for snagging people—or do rounds, stalking targets. then there’s hobbies that’d… shock anyone,” he said.

“not even gonna ask,” i said, shaking my head, then sighed. “do i at least… get time to think?” i was dreading his answer.

“today, sure. but you still don’t get how big this is, i’m not drawing you a damn diagram,” he said, standing. “simple: leave or join. leave, maybe you keep your life. stay, they’ll kill you unless you convince everyone you’re not some normal chick who knows too much.”

“it’s just… so sudden, so unfair—”

“should’ve thought twice before tailing me.” with that, he cut across to the door and vanished. i sat there, drowning in panic, disgust, pressure, a dangerous mess of confusion. only one thing was clear: i didn’t know what to do.

i shot up, locked the door, and everything hit at once, my emotions racing, desperation winning, shoving me upstairs to my room. rage tangled with fear; i kicked the poof in the corner, then slammed a stack of books off my desk.

“damn it! damn it!” i yelled, tears soaking my face like i’d lost some war, i crumpled onto the bed, sobbing hard—angry, scared. how could i ditch my life? how could he just say it, calm as hell, like he could steer my fate without a shred of regret?

i curled up tight, remembering what i’d chased as a kid: him. regretted following, regretted crafting some mystery around him, regretted thinking he just needed a nudge to crack his shell.

all lies. he’d never been sick, his parents locked him up for a rotten truth we now shared. i hadn’t killed, but i felt complicit, watched that guy die, couldn’t snitch, now stuck with a secret i had to live.

my life had to shift, but that meant leaving something behind; and to do that, i had to finally get what i’d been chanting since morning: i was in real danger: matt was a killer, and i had to try being one too—or my family and i were dead meat.

whispering that, i sank into exhausted sleep.

“the secret’s real…”

⠀̋⠀★ . ᅠtaglist ູᅠ͞ — @courta13 @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @sturnsblogs @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @immaqulate @wysmols @chrepsi @mattslolita @ribbonlovergirl @milo-the-dog @madisturni @ariestrxsh @myluck4u-com

[moons-among-distant-stars]

watching more of the jello isat stream and i just got put on blast???

“there’s two types of worldbuilders:

the idk that doesnt really matter you figure it out

and I HAVE FIGURED OUT AND RESEARCHED THE HISTORY OF CROPS AND THE ENVIRONMENTS THAT EACH OF THEM WOULD LIVE IN SO I CAN FIGURE OUT WHAT THE STAPLE DIET WOULD BE IN THIS TOWN”

and uuuhh

[radrobotz]

i think the funniest ocs ive ever had were it was like a next gen crossover au where all webseries (of the 2000s-2010s for reference) exist in the same world but its like the kids of the characters and the main character (and couple) were an eddsworld fankid and a dick figures fankid

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Simon had been angry before, no question about that. But he had never been this angry. The moment the helicopter touched down, he grabbed your elbow and dragged you through the base, until you reached the building that was assigned to the 141. All the way, he ignored the concerned and annoyed shouts from the others. And you? You couldn't say anything to defend yourself. Not this time at least.

Simon had all the reasons to be angry, one could have. You were reckless, stubborn, almost got yourself killed in the process. And now you were bearing the consequences. So, you let him drag you through the base, ignoring the curious stares and the way his nails bit into your skin, even through the shirt you were wearing. 

As soon as you two stepped foot into the rec room, he pushed you inside, before stalking to you, glaring as if you were one of his enemies. But you knew better and you saw the worry and fear hidden behind the anger. 

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Price, Soap, and Gaz entered the room, looking worried. "Simon, calm down." Usually, Price's words would have worked. Would have gotten Simon to come to his senses. But you knew he was too far gone. 

"I wasn't thinking. I did what I had to, just like you taught me." You tried to square up to him, but the fire burning in his eyes made you back down. "I didn't fuckin' teach you to get yourself killed now, did I?" You sighed, frustrated, and glared right back at the giant in front of you. 

"You know what I mean. Don't act as if you wouldn't have done the sa-" He interrupted you, spit flying as he suddenly yelled. "That's not what this is about!" Your glare disappeared as your eyes widened in shock. He must have realized what he just did, taking a few steps back, his hand raking down his face. When he looked back at you, a quiet whisper that was your name, left his lips, but you stopped him.

"Fuck you, Simon." That seemed to get his anger going again. "Don't. You're on thin fucking ice right now, you understand?" Your eyes immediately found Soap's, who was already smirking. 

Just last week, he showed you a stupid meme, where someone said "You're on thin ice", and the other person started tap dancing. And in that moment, you knew what you had to do, no matter the cost. So, you stood up straight and started to tap dance. Or at least tried to. First, you had no clue how to, so whatever it looked like, it must've been terrible. And second, before you even got three steps in, Simon's arm wrapped around your waist and he threw you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing.

"Hey!" Not reacting at all, he walked out of the rec room, once again ignoring the others calling after him. Although, it was only Price and Gaz calling. Soap was standing beside them, bent over laughing.

Before you knew it, Simon put you down again. But it wasn't gently, no. Instead, he just threw you onto, what you quickly realized was, his bed. And when you heard the lock click, you knew you were in for a night.

A/N: I love all of you, hope you know that! <3

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[moominvalley-state-of-mind]

okay so i want you guys to go listen to midwest emo.

just do it for me

dont gotta like it,

you can listen to one song and never pick it up again,

but EXPIREANCE it.

[chithereader]

jealousy, jealousy / aaron hotchner

here’s my masterlist! pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader / shy!reader word count: 2.4k genre & cw: fluff, a little jealousy and pining angst if u squint, mentions of made-up case, different use of cm character a/n: thank u so much for all the support i've been getting on my fics!! hope you love this one as much as i do, i really enjoyed writing this one the most!

Today was a bad day. That much was clear. From the moment you woke up to the minute you arrived at the BAU– you’re convinced that the universe has simply gone the extra mile to make your life a little harder. 

You slept through your alarm and a few phone calls from Garcia, making your morning stressful and complete chaos. You didn’t have time to grab a cup of coffee or a snack, and apparently you also didn’t have time to remove the colorful pimple patches that adorned your face. 

Your blouse is buttoned asymmetrically, your hair resembling a bird's nest, and you left your ID at home, making your arrival more delayed as you had to employ Garcia’s help in presenting a copy of your ID to let you through. 

That too was not without stress given that your phone was on the verge of dying as you were in the call, but thankfully you could finally breathe in the elevator. Or so you thought. 

There were two things that immediately caught you off guard as you walked into the bullpen: one, almost all the desks were deserted and two, Reid and Morgan were watching you- as if waiting for your reaction, which led you to look around in anticipation. Is there a surprise? A prank? Did I miss a patch? I’m…wearing pants, right? 

Not wanting to prolong your search, you look at the two for any indication or clue. Tilting your head to the side as if to ask what? But to your surprise, they both nod their heads in one direction. Oh.

Strauss was in Hotch’s office, along with Rossi and a woman you don’t recognize. Hotch looked a bit tense, Strauss firm, Rossi is as relaxed as ever, and the woman… is looking directly at Hotch. Just Hotch. Huh. 

You were stood just shy of your desk when you shook thoughts out of your head, slowly approaching your desk to settle your things. Dozens of scenarios were running through your head, trying to make sense of new additions to an otherwise normal day. 

But the way she was studying him made your chest tight like someone was stepping on it.. and you couldn’t figure out why. 

You approach the two rascals only to lean on Derek’s desk as you whisper under your breath, “What’s happening there?” 

Morgan shrugs but his focused face remains, “I don’t know, kid. I tried Garcia but she doesn’t have a clue either.” Eyes studying the people in the room, noting anything that could tell them something. 

Mulling over more possibilities, you hum in response. Turning to Reid, you ask him- hoping that his eidetic memory can tell you anything about the woman even if they’d only met in passing. 

“Do you know anything, Spence?” But Reid only pouts at you, a sign that he’s thought about it hard but is coming up empty. 

Shaking his head, he soberly replies, “No..I don’t think so. I– I’ve never seen her before. Sorry.” 

Before any more thoughts could be voiced between the three of you, the door to Hotch’s office opens and all four of them file out- the woman walking a little too close to Hotch. 

-

You’re approaching your usual seat on the jet beside Morgan and across from Hotch when suddenly Agent Seaver overtakes you and sits on your seat. Caught by surprise, your eyes instinctively go to Hotch who’s already looking at you. 

He nods to himself, moving from the aisle seat to the one by the window. But it appears Agent Seaver misunderstood his gesture and moved beside him, “Oh! Thank you, sir.” Even going as far as touching his arm and leaning closely. 

Now, you’ve never been a violent person. Rage has just never overcome your senses like that but today.. of all days– you couldn’t help the image of spilling your hot chocolate all over her cream blouse. 

You don’t even notice that you’re frowning as you sit beside Morgan, somehow still unaware of how much their closeness really upsets you. You honestly thought you’ve maintained an expressionless face until Morgan looks up from his file and leans close to whisper in your ear, “You’ll need claws not paws, baby girl.” Winking at you as you separate. 

You steal a glance at Hotch only to see him watching you and Morgan with furrowed brows. He almost looks normal if it weren’t for the clenching of his jaw that’s his tell of irritation. Moving your gaze to Seaver, in case you missed something that’s causing his new mood, you find her reading the case file. 

As you return your gaze on Hotch, you watch as Seaver touches his arm again and engages him in conversation about the case. It’s through the whole jet ride that you had to stomach the constant Agent Hotchner, Agent Hotchner! paired with a giggle or a slight touch. UGH!

If it weren’t for Strauss personally recommending Agent Seaver as a consultant for this case, you would have done– …still absolutely nothing. You had no claim whatsoever over Hotch. Morgan and Rossi may tease the two of you occasionally, forcing that he treats you specially or whatever but his behavior could simply be chalked off as him being a good and attentive boss. 

And yes, okay fine. You may have some moments here and there… but! they could honestly just be built up in your head because of the feelings you have for him. Like when he said he likes it when you stare? Come on, being stared at can be flattering and that’s just a universal truth. 

- 

After a whole day of coming up with theories, visiting crime scenes and M.E.’s, you’re all completely spent. Lounging in the makeshift discussion room, all of you are still working tirelessly on the case given that the unsub’s on a spree and his timeline is alarmingly short. 

Reid’s been silently staring at the board for 20 minutes while Morgan’s pretending to read files of potential suspects with his legs stretched out and feet on the table, “This is impossible. We just don’t have enough.” He exclaims as he tosses the file on the table with a thud. 

To the left of Morgan, you’re also silently mulling over files of potential suspects. Not wanting to admit that he’s right, you guys don’t have enough…bodies. You barely have anything on the guy, barely any clues- for a working profile. 

You sigh heavily, peeling your eyes off the paper and looking at the board. “Reid?” The boy genius shakes his head softly, confirming that the known dump sites don’t say much about the unsub’s comfort zones or hunting ground. 

You suddenly wonder where Seaver, Hotch and Rossi are. You and Morgan got back to the precinct at around 11PM, and you realize you haven’t seen any of them, “Where are the others?” 

Morgan, in an effort to lighten the mood, jumps at the chance to tease you, “Hmm. I think what you’re really asking is: Where’s Hotch and is he with Seaver?” He punches your arm lightly, making it obvious he’s only teasing. 

The smug, playful smile on his face makes you fight one of your own, desperately trying to not give yourself away, “Shut up,” hitting him in the head softly with the file in your hand. 

While you two were exchanging playful glares, Reid interjects, “Seaver wanted to turn in early since she’s also the one meeting with the families tomorrow so Hotch brought her to the hotel.” 

You instantly lift your gaze to him and watch as he removes the marker’s cap and scribbles rapidly on the board, quickly adding “And I’m pretty sure Rossi’s getting us coffee from the diner around the block.” 

You want to blame it on your exhaustion– your inability and ineffectiveness at hiding how you truly feel about what Reid just revealed to you, groaning loudly in pain and frustration. You put your head in your hands, muffling the sounds you’re making that are somehow a combination of a laugh and a sob. 

Morgan understands your reaction immediately and laughs out loud. 

“It’s not funny!” There was honestly no point in hiding it. As much as Morgan teased you, you knew he wouldn’t tell anyway, and Reid.. well, he was honestly an even better keeper of secrets than Morgan, Rossi and Garcia. 

He puts a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, “Baby girl, worry not. You know you hold a special place in boss man’s heart.” Then gripping both your wrists to pry your hands off your face. 

Pressing your face even further into your hands, you let out a muffled version of “That’s not true!” that came out more as “Daffs noft thwu!” 

When Morgan successfully pries your hands off your face, you’re surprised to see Reid’s moved from the board to behind Morgan, half leaning half sitting on the table, curiously watching you. 

Morgan turns around to look at the door behind you, making sure the coast is clear before he says, “Kid. Be real with me for a sec… are you blind?” That was not the question you were expecting. 

You must have looked so lost because he continues, “Hotch cares for you. Deeply. And not in the same way he does for us. You’ve gotta have felt that, kid.” Funny, you are starting to feel like a kid– the only thing missing are his hands on your shoulders to complete that huddle pep talk experience. 

“That’s just not–” you try to start. But Reid swiftly raises his hand, signing you to stop–

“Did you know that every morning Hotch makes sure all the pens and mug handles on your desk are pointing to the right– the way you need it to be– in case the night janitors move any out of place?”

“Or that he never really ate lunch in the office before but started bringing sandwiches and other food he could microwave, while timing his lunches with yours presumably so he could strike up a conversation with you during break?” 

“Or do you remember that one time the AC in the bullpen broke and we were all sweating badly, and I said the heat was making me too thirsty then he disappeared into his office and came back with a bottle of water and an orange juice box only to give it to you?” 

Morgan lets out a loud laugh at that one while Reid pouts playfully, “I mean I was genuinely dying then.” 

Not without his own input, Morgan smiles softly at you with a raised brow “Did you know he personally restocks your favorite hot chocolate in the pantry and on the jet? Including the marshmallows.” 

You breathe in deeply, the revelations sounding too good to be true but winding nonetheless. You crack a small joke, trying to play it off “And I thought the bureau was just feeling really generous.” 

The two, who have grown to be such brothers, give you the exact same look of Really? 

As Reid rounds the table to go back and stand by the board, Morgan catches your attention and holds your eye, “Look, there’s so much more, kid. But they all point to the same thing.” He says this as softly as possible, as if to not scare you away. 

You let out a soft, breathy laugh. Shaking your head, “That just can’t be true.” 

With all three of your backs to the door, you don’t notice Rossi nearing. You just suddenly hear his voice from behind, rounding the table and settling the coffee cups in front of all of you, “Coffee, anyone?” 

As if trapped in the null of the previous conversation, you’re still looking at Morgan as you lean back in your chair, slumping further to seek non-existent cover. Reid, who is now back in his own world with the board, is handed a cup by Rossi, who didn’t even turn to look- only stretching out an arm to receive it and mumbling a distracted “Thanks.”  

Rossi, who is simply too smart for his own good, impressively senses something hanging in the air, nonchalantly asking about the tailend of a conversation he was not supposed to hear, “So… what can’t be true?” 

Back to lounging excessively on a chair that is a tad too tiny for him, with legs outstretched and feet on the corner on the table– Morgan spouts, “That she’s Hotch’s girl, and has no reason to be jealous of Seaver– who by the way needs the HR orientation more than Penelope and I.” 

-

Now– all of your backs are to the door except Rossi’s. Not one of you tried to move due to fatigue, let alone look.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan, and Reid, on the way back to the precinct from the hotel, Hotch had the genius thought of picking up Rossi so the latter wouldn’t have to walk a block with trays of coffee on hand.

Hotch and Rossi arrived together. And as Rossi went around the table to give you your cups of coffee, Hotch stayed behind– leaning on the doorframe with arms crossed, watching you and the team.

Imagine his surprise, hearing what Morgan just said. His heart skipped a beat, his stomach dropped. His entire being froze entirely.. What? Jealous? 

In his mind, he had two choices: Act like he didn’t hear it and save you from embarrassment or use it to his advantage and make his intentions clear..ish. 

-

You gasp loudly at his bluntness– and in front of Rossi! Straightening in your chair and pointing an accusatory finger at Morgan, “You little– I am NOT jealous! and I am NOT Hotch’s–” 

Cut off by someone loudly clearing their throat from behind all of you, you all freeze, including Reid who hasn’t been actively paying attention until now. 

The hair on your neck stands up as you hear the nearing footsteps, already envisioning digging your own grave in your head when finally, Hotch is standing right beside you. 

You’re all still pretty frozen, save from the slow movement which is your eyes slowly lifting its gaze to the man in question until they meet his hazel orbs. He holds your stare as he leans on the desk, arms straining in his shirt– 

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Rossi fighting a smile, and just as you’re about to mentally curse him in your head, you’re broken out of your thoughts by a deep voice, 

“You don’t think you’re my girl?” 

[acid-ixx]

(03/05/25) — again &. again masterlist

by the bird and the bee

ft. platonic soft! yandere batfam! x gn! neglected reader

✮ MAIN MASTERLIST ✮

— TRIGGER WARNINGS !

- lowercase writing, emotional neglect, allusions to sexual assault, prostitution & physical abuse, kidnapping, alcohol abuse, drugging, themes of depression, dissociation, vague traumatic events, mentions of murder, amnesia, other warnings would be added soon.

— SYNOPSIS !

who would have thought that living with your rich, billionaire father and endless supply of sisters and brothers would actually end up being the worst thirteen and a half year of your life?

when your mother was taken away from you at the ripe age of five, you were forced to live at the solemn wayne manor with nobody to accompany you but the butler, alfred pennyworth.

there, you learn that giving up was better than trying to gain the attention of your ever-growing family. so you left, and never once tried to look back at the decades of neglect they left you with.

but when alfred, your kind caretaker, had started leaving clues of your sudden disappearance; that's when they all take notice and then on starts the ultimate race of chasing freedom, and escaping what once was your gilded cage.

little did you know your mother's dark past manifests itself at the worst of times.

— CHAPTERS ! ; 48k+ words

00. — oh, please leave me be.

01. — because you only notice me once i'm out the door.

02. — and you don't even remember my face?

03. — i need a drink, away from everyone.

04. — mors tua, vita mea / your death, my life.

05 : 01. — a halo in the pit of darkness.

05 : 02. — to be his child is all i want.

— DRABBLES ! ; #series: again &. again

dick grayson calling you his baby bird

why now? (yan! damian wayne)

brutus (villain au concept)

brutus: out for blood

what if you were never neglected?

just a taste (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

laughter is the best medicine (yan! dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne)

to you, my greatest passion (non-neglected au-verse)

brutus: both arms cradle you now

bruce finding your graduation picture

how to be a heartbreaker! (yandere harem)

mea culpa (mini chapter)

conflicting comfort scene with jason todd

dialogue spoilers related to above drabble

more about jason todd and hurt/comfort

dick and his baby blue eyes

time travel au concept

sharing the same features with damian

brutus: the only fucked up thing in this world is you

cause you're takin' it like a champ, sweetheart! (yan! conner kent - suggestive)

brutus: just a burning memory (yan! conner kent)

young, just us?! (yan! young justice au)

that's my type! (yan! john constantine)

dick's miley cyrus eyes

you shoving their neglect in their face and it backfiring

model reader concept

— ASKS ! ; #series: again &. again

dick's spiral into yandere-ism

leaving gotham, resenting alfred, changing last names

your mysterious identity &. conner being your love interest

dick seeing you as a child & damian's need to be your favorite

damian and his cool, matching bracelets

does dick close the door on you? nah, he doesn't even know you were behind the door

wally west as your love interest

you care now?

conner as your angry, protective bf

jason trying his damn best to be a brother to you

calling bruce by his last name only

calling alfred your dad ft. jealous bruce

how are damian and jason obsessed towards you

their nicknames for you

how bruce and damian would try to bond with you

will you still go to college after being kidnapped?

will the series have a happy ending?

why does damian hurt you? and why do you justify his actions?

the family stalks you even in-game

how tim is in the series

what are the characters' ages in the series?

what if you were hypersexual?

— INCORRECT QUOTES ! ; #a&a: incorrect quotes

yan! villains kidnapping you

hostage situation

how to become a target to the wayne family

dick and you miscommunication trope in a nutshell

— FANART ! ; #a&a: fanart

happy birthday by @luffyadolover

diary by @luffyadolover

another reason they're broke &. finished art by @oh-nowo-i-got-uwu

a take on the reader's appearance by @luffyadolover

reader trying to study ft. the batfam's endless calls &. finished art by @ghostdoodlen

reader finding bruce and damian watching a movie by @luffyadolover

again &. again mv by @luffyadolover

reader and their playlist by @luffyadolover

a comic panel by @lucioleestolie

conner and reader flying through the skies by @ghostdoodlen

when all of a sudden, i hear this agitating noise by @punpunsonny

villain au reader by @lazyemmy

a&a oc: emile by @questionthegrapevine

graduation pic, conner comfort, and mirrors by @ghostdoodlen

neglected &. non-neglected reader by @lazyemmy

jason calling you his angel by @ghostdoodlen

alfred gives you a christmas gift by @luffyadolover

my own art teehee by me

male reader interpretation by @yukiyee-akian

dick being clingy by @lazyemmy

brutus reader interpretation by @plkjnb

reader cosplaying as mabel pines by @mothintheskies

— TAGLIST ! ; taglist is under construction!

@.lilyalone, @.secretomelettetroops, @.earlqurl, @.simpingfor-wakasa, @.amber-content, @.ruiroku, @.okaybutfullhomo, @.trasshy-artist, @.obsessedwithromance, @.jjsmeowthie, @.fairy-lenaa, @.ilovvmyhusband, @.6uuyuuhgy, @.plsfckmedxddy, @.lavender-moony, @.sweetheart-era, @.chemicalsandghosts, @.darling006, @.starringyau, @.samanthahanes, @.rosecentury, @.jaythes1mp, @.pi1nkl0ver, @.i-thirsty-boy, @.sharks-are-cool-l, @.silverklaus, @.samanthathanes, @.traumaramacenter, @.maddimoon, @.anxrq, @.thedarknesslord, @.h0rr0r-10ver-69, @.lazy-idate, @.cupids-pretty-boy, @.alishii, @.mel-star636, @.sitepathos, @.freakyotaku059-blog, @.dirtydiavolo, @.sunbleachedantlers, @.24hrsoflanii, @.ceramic-raven, @.une-lueur-dans-la-nuit, @.tdickensstuff4, @.thickerthanthieves, @.arlandvery, @.distressed-lezbo, @.bunbunboysworld, @.bellethesleepypotato, @.naina326, @.nebuluma, @.alliwantisadonut, @.alishii, @.kusakiguzen, @.sirenetheblogger, @.emmbny, @.ryukyuin, @.solkara, @.starsdotalk

[thinkinonsense]

PAST LIFE⋆

dofp!logan howlett x mutant fem!reader

cw:fingering, cursing, dirty talk, mentions of motherhood, fluff

masterlist

logan should've known when he accepted the mission to come go back in time to stop the sentinels that you would still be here.

"is there an issue here, hank?"

the sound of your voice made logan's heart flutter. you were barely peaking out from behind the door but logan could see you just fine. he couldn't stop staring.

"no, everything's fine." hank assured you. just as you turned to return to charles's office, you heard the door burst open. this handsome stranger hits hank right in the nose before continuing up the stairs to you.

logan had to take you in for a second. his beautiful future wife stood in front of him and had absolutely no clue that they were married because she was only twenty-five years old.

had you always been this gorgeous? was that even fair? all of these were questions that floated around in his mind.

"who are you and what do you want?" you asked as he reached out to touch you.

"so you've always been this beautiful, huh, princess?" he purred, tucking away a piece of your hair behind your ear.

sure, he was attractive in his brown leather jacket and sunglasses but this man looked in his mid-forties. logan was too busy staring down at your frilly yellow babydoll dress to notice where you were looking at him. his left hand; more specifically the gold band on his ring finger.

"i don't mess with married men." you glare at him. he can't help but chuckle darkly down at your innocence.

"oh, my wife wouldn't mind."

god, logan felt like such a pervert for coming on to you but he couldn't help it. your ethereal beauty was unreal. not that you have aged much since the present day, as you two have the slow aging processes in common. older hank would always tell logan that he should be lucky that you agreed to date him because there were plenty of people who would love to take his place. sure, logan believed him but now, he really understood what hank meant.

"where's charles at, sweetheart?" logan asks, inhaling your floral sent.

before you can respond, charles comes barreling down the stairs drunkenly calling after you.

"where've you been?" he asked you then turned to logan. "who the hell are you?"

this should be good.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"how do we know that you're actually from the future?" you asked, sitting atop charles desks, swinging your legs. hank and charles stood outside in the hallway discussing whether or not to trust logan.

"you've always been this stubborn?" logan says under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"how do we even know each other in the future?" you finally asked.

for the past hour, this man has tried to sell this absurd story about how future charles and magneto sent him here together to save mutants from sentinels. so far he's managed to convince charles but hank and you were still on the fence.

"we're married, sweetheart." logan smirks wickedly.

there was absolutely no way that you two were married. this man is grumpy, mean-looking, and wears dark brown leather. you are an academic scholar who adores pastels and helping other mutants. he had to have you mistaken.

you squint up at him and laugh, "we are married?"

logan nods, walking over to you until he's standing between your legs.

"tell me something only i would know then."

"your favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry, you hate the cold and winter, anytime you drink coffee you get nightmares, your favorite color is green, but your favorite shade is the color my eyes get when i look at you." logan could see the way your eyes widen, slowly starting to believe him more and more. he couldn't help but feel cocky. "would you like me to continue?"

"im not sure... think you're gonna have to prove it. another way." you challenge him. logan's hand trails up your thigh, playing with the soft yellow material.

"c'mon sweetheart, this is too easy." he mutters against your neck, placing soft kisses and nibbling on the skin.

logan knew you like the back of his hand. he knew exactly what you liked and disliked. sometimes you would even tell him that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"you like when i pull your bottom lip when we kiss. you blush every time i offer for you to sit on my face. one of your favorite ways to fuck is pressed up against a wall or bent over a table..." logan could go on and on.

"we do that...?" you whisper embarrassed by this version of yourself, trying to avoid his burning gaze.

"oh, all the time. sometimes you pull me down on the floor when i come home, begging to ride me right then and there." logan says, once he captures your attention again. you chew on your bottom lip adorably.

a small whimper passes your lips before you remember that hank and charles aren't that far away from the room. one of your hands comes up to logan's chest, slightly pushing him back despite not wanting to.

"w-we should stop." you warn him. "they can hear us."

this was when logan knew that you hadn't discovered part of your mutation yet. he had already assumed that you hadn't but this confirmed it.

"need you to relax, princess," he says, moving higher up to your jaw. your body betrays everything your mouth says, eating out of the palm of his hand. "i promise once you relax, it'll feel like time has stopped."

logan's lips taunt yours; not quite giving you what you want. fed up, you overpower him and push his lips into yours. the only word floating around in your head was 'relax'.

carefully, logan lays you back on the desk. something about being held in the stranger's arms set you at ease; maybe he was your husband?

"you don't know this yet..." logan huffs. "but you can stop time."

you scoff, thinking that you caught him in a lie. "no, i can't."

"if you relax like i said, then you can." logan mutters against your collarbone.

one of his hands slides up your thigh while the other rubs circles on your hip bone. was this wrong of you? if he is telling the truth –and it seems like he is– then technically he is your husband and it's not wrong to mess around with your husband.

"open up for me, babydoll." logan mumbled against your collarbones, placing wet kisses and nibbling on the delicate skin.

your legs spread with ease as his callused fingers rub over your cotton panties. the soft material of your dress is bunched at your tummy as he tugs your panties off, pocketing them for himself. his thumb returns to rub your button.

"p-please..." you whimper, looking up at logan with bambi eyes. "need more."

"anything for you, princess." he groans, slipping two fingers inside of you as gently as he can. this earned a loud moan from you when he nudged that spot deep in your gummy walls with ease.

"see how well i know my wife?" logan gloats, pressing soft kisses to your lips but never letting you catch him. "you usually prefer it rougher than this but i'm not cruel."

"y-you can go... can go faster." you pant, never having anything quite his size yet.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he says in a condescending tone. "wanna know something 'bout the future?"

it was difficult but you managed to nod your head despite how clearly fucked out you were at this point.

"a couple weeks ago, you came home telling me how much you want to be a mom; how you've always wanted to be a mom." he pulls back to look at your pretty face, lust darkening your eyes and slick pouring out of you, practically dripping down his palm onto the desk. "so, every chance we get alone you've been begging for me to go raw inside of you."

logan loved how even as you're all spread out for him, you're still blushing at his filthy words.

"look at you, blushing while you soak my hand." he mocks with a smirk.

"i'm s-so close, please!" you beg so politely.

his thick fingers pick up the pace as you clench down on them; jaw dropped and head thrown back. logan's other hand supports your back while your cute painted blue nails dig into his wrist as your climax starts to wash over you.

"hey sweetheart, look out the window." he chuckles, moving your chin to stare hazily out the glass window.

you couldn't believe it. every car, bird, street light, everything was stopped. everything but you and logan.

"how did you know that i could...?"

"you can't always control it but when you calm your mind, it's easier for you to do it."

"does it always happen when we...?"

"when we have sex...?" logan chuckles as you hide yourself in his chest. you nod. "no. over time you've found ways to control it. sometimes if we need more time, you might manipulate it."

"future me sounds cool." you giggle, lifting up to look at him. "how do we meet?"

"i can't tell you that." he smiles.

"well, then where are you in this timeline? how can i meet you sooner?"

"i'm not a very good man during this time, baby. you'll meet me when the time is right."

"what if you don't want me then? how do you know we will still get together?"

logan looks down at your pouty lips, swiping his thumb across it.

"i'll always come back for you. no matter the timeline or where we are in life; i'll find you again."

"promise?"

"i promise you, sweetheart. don't worry that beautiful mind of yours." he assures, kissing the tear strolling down your cheek.

logan reaches down and kisses you tenderly, pulling you out of the time freeze. suddenly the door swings open on the two of you. thank god, logan had quick reflexes, pulling your dress back down to cover you.

charles calls your name and then asks, "what are you doing?"

"it's okay, he's my husband."

a loud laugh escapes logan at your lovey-dovey tone, almost making hank and charles eyes fall out of their heads. you couldn't wait to meet logan again in the future.

[bitchface24-7]

COYOTE UGLY - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: When you’re not at the lab researching and developing Hextech, you’re in Zaun at the BDSM club Coyote Ugly as the bartender. Having this job ensures your team has enough money to continue working without any headaches. Well you’re in for a massive migraine since the man you’ve been in love with since you were kids is gonna find out about your dirty little secret.

warnings: secrets, bdsm etiquette, dom!viktor, love confessions, abelist comments (Viktor refers to himself in a negative light twice, referencing what others have called him) traffic light system, spanking, afab terms used for the smut section, dirty talk, vaginal sex, unsafe sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, squirting, I’m gonna write this as a 5 + 1 kinda deal. Ok? Ok. Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f

p.s. This fic very obviously references Coyote Ugly (2000), and I know it is a bar in the movie but I didn't want to do a whole plotline on The Last Drop vs Coyote Ugly; and I didn't have the energy to write and characterize Silco LMAO. So I hope none of y'all are mad I tweaked it to be a BDSM club/bar instead. I've loved this movie ever since I was a kid. Now I'm tempted to do a Practical Magic (1998) fic too 😭😭

The Five Times Viktor Gets a Clue About You, and the One Time His Suspicions are Confirmed

One.

Viktor’s known you for almost two decades by this point. You’re well into your twenties and can do whatever you please. But Viktor’s got suspicions regarding you. Your excuses, your secrets. He knows you better than he knows himself.

So when you walk into the lab one day with a stack of cash, both Jayce and Viktor can’t help but look at you as if you were a project they were working on. You’ve peaked their curiosity and suspicion.

“So,” Viktor starts as you give the money to Jayce, and walk back to your desk, “Where did that money come from?”

You lightly scoff, “Don’t worry about it, V.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about it! That’s a lot of money miláček! Please tell me you got it legally.”

You whip around with a snort, “Don’t worry Viktor, it’s all legal. I just got paid from my second job. I already took a cut for myself; the rest I’m donating to the lab for our research.”

Viktor’s lips thin at that. You already took a cut for yourself and still had that much money to just… give away?

“Whatever you say, miláček.”

You’re gonna regret that. You’ve just peaked Viktor’s curiosity; and what’s the saying?

Curiosity killed the cat… but satisfaction brought it back.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Two.

Viktor’s curiosity is peaked once more when he sees a glimmer of sparkle at your navel as your shirt rises, as you try to get something off the shelf for him.

Viktor hums as he puts his pen on the hem of your shirt to lift it a bit more. You gasp as a fresh breeze brushes against your abdomen.

“Whats this, hmm?”

You sputter a bit before dropping your arms and tugging your shirt down quickly, “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Your belly button is magical and shimmers on its own?”

You sarcastically hum, “How’d you know?” you add a dramatic gasp, just because you can. Viktor quirks an eyebrow at you, “You can just admit you got a piercing. Its quite common down in Zaun.”

“Whats the fun in that.” You pout, “I got it forever ago, a bit before we left for the Academy actually.”

“You got your navel pierced when you were seventeen, and I never found out about it until you were twenty-six and I was twenty-eight?”

You playfully shrug, “Guess you aren't as observant as you think you are.”

Viktor clenches his jaw, “Don’t tease me miláček. You won't like where you end up.”

“Try me.”

With that, you walk away with a sway to your hips as Viktor's grip on his pen tightens to the point he thinks it's going to snap in half.

You're going to regret that.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Three.

“What is that?!” Jayce exclaims as you lounge on the couch, taking a small nap. “What? What! What're you screeching about Jayce?”

“That!” he squeaks, “On your lower back! Is that a…”

Viktor finishes the thought, “A tattoo?”

You twist your torso and look down. There's the perpetrator, a small tramp stamp that kind of looks like the Hexcores magic, and in the centre is a heart.

“Yeah.” you casually state as you go back to nap.

“Why does it look like the Hexcore?”

You take a quick peek over to Viktor before muttering, “Why not? I care about you guys and decided to get a tattoo to commemorate it.”

Jayce awes a bit but Viktor just narrows his eyes at you. There's more to it than just that. Because if not, then why did you put it in such a… risque place? Unless you wear low-rise pants or extremely cropped shirts; no one would ever see it.

Unless you're completely naked.

Viktor rubs his nose as you reposition yourself, your hip jutting out as your top rises even farther.

Viktor casually stands up and walks over to where you're resting on the labs couch. Lightly touching your lower back, he feels you flinch as he presses his hand harder onto the fully healed tattoo, “You must be cold, here. Let me fix that.”

And with that, Viktor pulls up the fleece blanket to cover your torso.

You look to Viktor and your eyes have darkened, your lids slightly narrowed. Your lips are lightly pursed as you examine Viktor. Viktor just smirks at you.

The longer this goes on, the more clues Viktor gets.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Four.

Jayce keeps pacing in the lab. Back and forth, back and forth. Viktor is worried Jayce is going to wear the floor down to the baseboards.

“Are you okay?” Viktor quietly asks, looking at Jayce in concern. He's never seen him so… frazzled before.

“No. There's a small gathering happening later today with the council members and high-level individuals. There was supposed to be a bartender to make the meeting not as mind numbing but the one Mel booked previously is sick. Now we need to find a replacement for…”

Jayce looks at his watch and runs a hand through his hair, “Three hours from now.”

Before Viktor can put his two cents in, you pipe in, “I can do it.”

Jayce whips around to look at you, a manic gleam in his eyes, “You’re not joking, right? You can actually bartend.”

You nod once, “I can actually bartend.”

“Shes not lying Jayce. She was a part-time bartender at the Last Drop when… when Vander was the owner.

Both you and Viktor look down, Vander was a good man. He took care of everyone as if they were his own kids.

Jayce clears his throat, trying to dissipate the mournful aura in the lab, “Wow, you're like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Many hidden talents.”

You snort, “More like a coyote prowling in the forest. Challenge brings mastery, dear Jayce.”

Viktor quirks an eyebrow at you. That's an… odd choice of words. No one ever refers to themselves as a coyote unless they frequent…

Oh.

Oh.

Everything is slowly piecing together, he just needs one more piece of proof before he pounces. Viktor almost feels like he's insane; he's a frequent member of the well-established BDSM club down in Zaun; Coyote Ugly. He's sure he would’ve seen you before. But there's the off chance you work when he's not there. He only goes on Saturdays, on a bi-weekly schedule.

Maybe you knew that and planned your schedule around Viktor's desires.

For this last bit of proof, Viktor’s gonna bring his attitude from Coyote Ugly to the lab. Hopefully, he doesn't traumatize Jayce (or you if he's wrong.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Five.

Viktor is good at what he does. Many people look at him and assume he's a virgin due to his disabilities. They think he's submissive due to the fact he's more lean and lithe as a man.

He's not.

He can get anyone down to their knees. He can get anyone to listen to him. He doesn't typically use this power in his day-to-day life, but he's going to bring it to the lab today. Luckily for him, Jayce had a mandated meeting to go to and couldn't weasel his way out of it.

He sees his target in the corner of his eye.

You.

You're standing by the blackboard, wobbling in place. Viktor isn't sure how well you've slept, if you've eaten anything today, or if you've even taken a break.

Viktor gets up from his own spot, and makes his way to the small kitchenette in the lab and prepares a basic sandwich and sweet milk for you. He places the items onto your desk and you're none the wiser.

Its not until Viktor clears his throat do you look away from the blackboard.

“You can barely stand straight. Here, come take a small break. Eat something.”

You smile lightly at the care, “Oh Viktor, I’d love to but I can't. I'm on the verge of a breakthrough; I can feel it! If I stop now, I wont ever complete this runic sequence!”

“I insist.”

“No, I really can't—”

“Sit.”

With that, you sat down at your desk immediately. You've never heard Viktor's voice go like that. So dark, so commanding, so… sensual.

You feel almost ashamed. Here Viktor is, making you food, a drink, and worrying about your health. And you were too much of a brat to see it.

You take half the sandwich and bite into it as your stomach growls at you. Shit, he's right. You haven't eaten in several hours and now your body’s catching up to you.

Viktor tilts his head, observing you.

“You were right, thank you.”

Viktor puts his hand on the nape of your neck and squeezes. You shiver and lean into the touch.

“You’re welcome. Don't make me have to do that again.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide and glossy. Your lips pouted lightly. Viktor's grip tightens on your nape and you somewhat successfully suppress a whine.

That's the final puzzle piece.

“I wont.”

“Good girl.”

And with that, Viktor can see you blue screen.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Plus One.

Viktor's changing up his routine, visiting Coyote Ugly on a Friday rather than his usual Saturday. The trek down to Zaun wasn't too bad, but the difference is air quality was highly noticeable.

Slowly but surely, Viktor makes his way to the club. He's in his usual outfit for this scene, an all-black ensemble with the buttons of his shirt undone almost dangerously low. He can feel the looks of desire shot his way. He's always on the top of the submissive’s lists at Coyote Ugly. And every coyote he's taken has been incredibly satisfied.

But ever since this theory of his sprouted, he's been hyper-focusing on it. On you. So he hasn't been able to take any of the coyotes to bed. They're desperate.

But there's a certain coyote that's already caught his eye.

He sees you working the bar as if it were second nature. Mixing drinks, pouring shots, opening beers, and chatting up the patrons. You seem so at home here.

Viktor gets a lovely eyeful of your outfit when you hope up on the bar with a megaphone, “Same shit, new day! We follow the rules and—”

All the patrons echo your words back to you, “We don't touch your girls!”

You smirk, “And with that, let the party begin!” a bell is heard ringing in the background but all Viktor can do is appreciate your sexiness.

You're in an all-black outfit as well, but its all leather. Your top is closed by a single button, so Viktor damn near gets an eyeful of your breasts. He can see your abdomen down to the top of your navel, your belly button piercing glittering in the club's lights.

Your leather pants are skin tight and low enough that Viktor's worried you can't bend over in them without flashing someone. He sees you turn around to hop off the bar and there it is. Your hexcore inspired tattoo.

Viktor feels his pants tighten at that. Its almost like a branding in his mind. Look at that. She's mine.

A few girls get up onto the bar and dance to the songs playing on the jukebox. With a distraction in place, he makes his way to the bar to order a drink.

Your back is to the bar as you clean some glasses, “What can I getcha?”

Viktor ensures his voice is loud enough so that you can hear him, “A whiskey sour, miláček.”

The sounds of cups almost breaking puts a smile on Viktor’s face. He's got you just where he wants you. You whip around with a deer-in-the-headlights look, “Vi—Viktor! What're you doing here?! You usually come on—”

“Saturdays. Yes, I know. But I've heard wonderful things about a certain bartender and wanted to see her for myself. The only bartender I've ever met is Thomas.”

You inhale sharply, “What gave me away?”

“Little things. The money, your body modifications, referring to yourself as a coyote.”

You hit your forehead with the palm of your hand, “I'm an idiot.”

Viktor shakes his head, “No, you just got too comfortable. Besides how you reacted a few days ago when given an order sealed the deal.”

Your face feels hot, almost unbearably so. Goddamn it.

“Does this… ruin anything between us?”

Viktor scoffs, “Absolutely not! Do you know how long I've fantasized about a scenario like this happening?”

“I have an idea…” your tone is breathless as your eyes are as wide as saucers. No way is this happening. No way are your dreams coming true.

Before anything else can happen, you do a special knock on the bar. Thomas whips his head over to look at you and seems shocked.

“This is officially a Code V. I need you to man the bar tonight.”

Thomas just smiles and takes over no problem, you hop over the bar and stand next to Viktor, a beaming smile on your face.

“A Code V?”

“When I officially get the man of my dreams, I get to have a shift off. No ifs, ands, or buts!”

Viktor smiles sweetly at that.

“So…” you add before your confidence dissipates, “Wanna go upstairs?”

Viktor knows that private rooms are located upstairs if you want to… have some fun. He just nods, a sly smirk on his face, “Lead the way, miláček.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You and Viktor rush up as best you can to one of the private rooms. Before anything happens, Viktor enquires if you know about the stoplight system. You do. And with that, you two touch each other in a way you’ve been dreaming about since you both started puberty.

A bit of kissing here, a bit of groping there. Before you know it, Viktor’s fingering open your pussy as you whine and pant at the pleasure Viktor is presenting your body with.

It’s wet, slick, and so hot. Viktor’s hand is slapping against your clit, causing a loud schlick sound that makes your ears burn in embarrassment. Viktor just revels in the sounds and faces you make; he never thought you could get any prettier. Looks like he was wrong.

“Please… Please… Put it in.” You beg, your eyes watery at the constant assault Viktor is giving your g-spot. Viktor kisses his teeth, “Put what in?” He cockily asks.

“Y-your cock. I want your cock in me. I want to fuck you into the bed. Please Viktor, please? I want it so bad… I need it…” You beg, your voice wobbly in your desire. Viktor growls low in his chest as removes his fingers from your pussy. “You're such a good girl, begging for me. C'mon sweetheart, I'm all yours.” With that, you ensure Viktor is comfortable as he sits up against the headboard, you saddle him and slowly sink onto his wonderful cock.

You gasp out a long drown out moan at the feeling. Viktor’s pushed right up against your g-spot, he’s stretching you out. Your pussy is moulding itself to Viktors cock, nothing else in this world will satisfy you now. One hand holds your waist as the other rubs your back.

“C’mon.” In a low, throaty voice, you moan. As if you had to use additional effort to get the words past your parted lips. Your voice is whiney and breathy. As if putting Viktors cock in you knocked all the air out of your lungs. When you lower yourself more, Viktor, who is rubbing your back with his free hand, feels something deep inside his gut tighten up a little more as you persistently try to fit the final few inches of his cock inside. You feel dizzy at that, you're so stuffed… and there’s a few inches more.

Needy. You're so fucking needy; and Viktor loves it.

He squeezes, quickly prickling your flesh beneath his fingertips into a supple hue. Viktor wishes he could mark you like that for good, wishes that squeezing hard enough would leave bruises and indents to last a lifetime. Last several lifetimes. Even if you aren't aware of it, you still attract admiring looks from other people, which irritates Viktor. Ever since you two were teens, people would look lecherously at you. And you never noticed. But at the mere thought of everyone seeing you so marked up, something wild, primal, and almost startlingly possessive gets hold of him. Even though Viktor would know who did it, they wouldn't.

They would question who defiled you so throughly; and not once in their tiny minds would they think Viktor “The Cripple” “The Weirdo” fucked you so good you're bow-legged for days. With a trail of hickeys down your neck and chest, red marks on your wrists and a glazed look in your eyes. Viktor needs to calm down, he’s getting ahead of himself.

Before he can stop himself, Viktor tangles his fingers into your sweaty, untidy hair. You shiver at the feeling. His hands are so strong, so beautiful to look at.

“Viktor! Please! Please let me move! I need it…”You beg. You've needed this since you were fifteen and you noticed how handsome Viktor was becoming.

You lean closer to Viktor, your tits close enough to his face he can easily suck a nipple into mouth. This small shift caused his cock to press even harder into your g-spot; making a long whine and a few tears to slip out of you. Seeing that causes Viktor to freeze a bit before asking, “Colour?” At that you desperately cry out a pathetic, “Green! Please!”

If Viktor had shown even a tiny bit less restraint, the pitiful little "please" that slips from your mouth might have killed him right there.

You start to bounce, a nipple still firmly in Viktor's mouth. One hand stays on your hip as the other tweaks your other nipple. You use the headboard as support to ride Viktor to your heart's content. Fuck his cock is huge, you swear you feel it in your lungs. You could've been doing this for ages. You pitifully whine at that thought; so much time wasted.

“You look so pretty like this, you know,” Viktor mumbles appraisingly as he lets your nipple go, rocking back and forth at an almost painfully slow pace, trying to give you even more pleasure. Your thighs are trembling, splattered with lube, sweat, and an unprecedented amount of wetness from your arousal. You make a tiny, barely there noise in response, pushing weakly back against him. Viktor holds you still. “So fucked out, just for me. So cock-drunk aren’t you? My little fucktoy. My good girl. My prettiest girl” Viktor showers praise on you, who just groans at the sweet attack.

You pull up as far as you can against Viktor’s strength, the head of his cock catching on the entrance to your pussy, before dropping back down aggressively and picking up a steady rhythm. Viktor lets out an appreciative moan at that. Fuck you feel so good. He's gonna become obsessed with your pussy after this. Viktor's head tilts back to rest against the headboard as he moans, you pepper hickeys all across his pale neck. He's not the only one with possessive tendencies.

You go faster and faster, rougher and harder with each bounce, but you still take into account Viktors weaker leg. You're both moaning, yours goes up a pitch when Viktor starts to rub your clit.

Viktor whispers into your ear as he ravages your pussy, “You like that? You slut. Do you like having my big cock stretch you out? Do you like me abusing your g-spot, moulding your pussy into the shape of my dick? Nothing else will ever satisfy you again, will it Pretty Girl? No. It won’t. You’ll be desperate to have my dick rearranging your guts again.”

You just moan and starts to cry at the whispered words alongside the pounding your pussy is getting. The knot in your stomach is getting tighter and tighter, you instinctively know you can’t cum without permission. So you ask,

“Viktor… Can I cum? Please? Can I cum?

Viktor just snarls at that, nipping your ear and slapping your ass with a heavy groan, “Oh fuck… you’re such a good girl aren’t you? Asking for permission to cum without me even having to telling you. Cum. Cum right fucking now.”

And you do. With a gush of liquid, you cum hard. Your body jerking, eyes rolling into the back of your head, with your mouth ajar in a silent moan that trickles down to a pleased whine. Viktor starts to fuck into you, wanting to cum too. You start to overstimulate yourself, desperate to feel Viktor cum.

Little “Uhs.” are punched out of you at each thrust due to the painful pleasure. In no time, Viktor cums too. His hips pressed flush against yours; his sharp hipbones causing a nice bruise to form. You both simultaneously moan at the feeling of Viktor pumping you full of his cum. The two lose their strength and flop down onto the bed.

You're cuddled up, now efficiently cockwarming Viktor. You're both our of breath, and immensely pleased.

“We should clean up.” Viktor pants, you giggle breathlessly, “I don't think I can move.”

The silence is comfortable, enjoyable. You’ve almost fallen asleep when Viktor casually states, “I love you. I've loved you since I was sixteen.”

You look up at him and give him a sweet smile, before pressing your lips together in a loving, passionate kiss, “and I've loved you since I was thirteen. Looks like I've got you beat.”

Viktor just chuckles as he runs a hand through your hair, “I'm exhausted. We’ll get cleaned up when we wake up.”

“I couldn't agree more. But I want a round two before that.”

“Seriously?!”

You slap Viktor's chest playfully, “We could've been doing this for a little over a decade. I'm making up for lost time!”

Viktor kisses your forehead and contently sighs, “Can’t argue with that miláček. Can't argue with that.”

With how vigorously you two went, it’s no surprise you fell asleep in a few minutes. Wrapped up together, as content as can be.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

That's a wrap! Please be nice to me, I haven't written smut since like 2022-2023. Hope y'all liked it!

For the tattoo, search up “cybersigilism heart tramp stamp tattoo” on pinterest to see what kind of tramp stamp you got LMAO