#just one chance that’s all i’m asking for PLEASE

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter three | formula one imagine

chapter three: home away from home

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

back in monaco for the first time after the crash, y/n reckons with ghosts from the past and the uncertain future.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | PART ONE | PART TWO

despite the hefty price tag of the cat carrier, brando looks less than impressed. y/n continued to try and coax him in with a treat but the cat was suspicious to say the least.

“please get in the carrier brando,” she waved the treat in his face again, “we’re going to see max! you love max and you don’t mind kimi, yeah? remember them? we just have a short 16 hour drive because your lordship doesn’t like planes so can we please get in the carrier?”

brando bit into the treat and slowly made his way into the carrier looking sorry for himself. the biggest and final chore was now done with minimal guilt, she would take that. y/n wasn’t moving to monaco - no, she prided herself on being one of the only drivers to not make that jump, but she also didn’t exactly know when she was coming back.

there was less than a month until car launches and tests and max insisted on hosting some team-bonding sessions for her and kimi. it was probably just an excuse to see her before she is ‘tainted by mercedes’, but y/n found herself excited to see the dutchman again.

the suitcases were by the door and the plants had been watered, it was now or never. crossing the boundary of her front door, it dawned on y/n that her life was changing again. there wasn’t quite the excitement she had leading up to her first race in formula one, but she could feel the butterflies threatening to return.

the door clicked shut and the next phase started. in the lobby of her building, y/n approached the front desk.

“hi frank,” y/n said to the concierge, “i’m going away for a little while so could you keep all of my mail together for me?”

the older man smiled up at her. frank had been working at this building since y/n first moved in. he had tried to hide that he was a formula one fan but wasn’t quite successful. he had stuttered when she had turned up one evening, cap low on her head and oversized sunglasses despite the darkness.

“miss y/ln, would you like me to help you with your bags?”

y/n had frozen when frank said her name. frank had taken his hat off, trying to sort out the salt and pepper freckled hair on his head.

“i’m so sorry miss y/ln, that was unprofessional of me. as you now know, i am aware of who you are, i hope this does not make you uncomfortable. we will do anything you need to be comfortable here.”

y/n had also taken off her hat and looked frank in the eye. she deemed him sincere and allowed herself two minutes of respite from her burning anger. “no worries,” she looks down at his name tag, “frank. i would love some help, maybe on a better day i can sign something for you? other than these bags, i’d really love if this being my home was just something we keep between us.”

frank mock saluted and started grabbing bags.

“you won’t be gone forever will you, miss y/ln?” frank asked, pulling y/n back. the older man looked uncharacteristically worried.

“and miss our scintillating conversations? i would never! i assume you’ve heard i’ve taken the job with kimi? i’m going to do some ‘team-bonding’ with him in monaco and then i’ll be back”

frank took one of her suitcases, helping her to the garage.

“monaco you say? you wouldn’t be staying with the handsome dutchman by any chance,” frank said, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i might be?” y/n opened the door of her pink cadillac, “was it you who let him and kimi up without my permission, frank?”

“guilty as charged ma’am, but they were there with good purpose so i just had to”

frank continued loading the car with her suitcases, opening the back door and securing brando’s carrier in place.

“he also gave me a signed pair of race gloves, sorry!”

y/n exclaimed as she shut the door of the car. “i knew he was bribing you! but yes, i guess i am glad you let them up - for now.”

frank pulled y/n in for a hug. she let it linger before clearing her throat and pulling back.

“i know i’m just an old man, but it’s nice to see you excited about something again. you came to me three years ago a broken girl with a constant face like thunder,” frank pinched her cheek, “but here you are, ready to conquer the world again. i am proud of you. but don’t get too lost in your new role to not see what’s right in front of you.”

y/n was confused. frank continued, “the crash took a lot from you, but it did not make you unloveable. give people a chance.”

the older man stepped back and gave her a wave.

“make sure you make enough stops and get some sleep, it’s a long drive to monaco. say hi to max for me.”

frank turned and made his way back into the building. y/n sighed and climbed into her car. the pink cadillac was hardly subtle but she had banished all of her other cars to a different garage three years again so it would simply have to do.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, kimiantonelli and 11,304,788 others

yourusername: sixteen hour road trip ahead of us, i hope brando is ready to get real acquainted with taylor swift's discography

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user1: she’s so cute

user2: it’s the pink caddy!!!

user3: y/n is back in formula one and is driving the pink cadillac - never kill yourself

charles_leclerc: okay miss active on instagram

yourusername: had to come back and steal all the likes from you obviously

charles_leclerc: oh yes please remind me how you still have double the followers i do when you haven’t posted in three years?

yourusername: idk sounds like you have a skill issue to me

charles_leclerc: sixteen hours and you’re back on my stomping ground… watch it missy

yourusername: i will watch

yourusername: because i know you and you will grovel

charles_leclerc: maybe…

charles_leclerc: i’ve missed you, sue me!

yourusername: i just might!

charles_leclerc: wait-!

user4: all these reunions are making me sappy

user5: i’m stuck on the fact that y/n is driving all the way to monaco?

yourusername: brando doesn’t like flying 😕

user6: oh to be a high maintenance cat of a rich person

maxverstappen1: jimmy and sassy are eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: awwww i’ve missed them

maxverstappen1: i was talking to brando…

yourusername: rightttttt

maxverstappen1: but i am eagerly awaiting your arrival

yourusername: as you should be

maxverstappen1: i stocked up on all your weird english biscuits and everything

yourusername: you’re too precious

user7: oh to have a bond like theirs

user8: i fear it’s a trauma bond

user9: it’s still cute!

kimiantonelli: can’t wait to get started miss y/ln

yourusername: please call me y/n kimi you’re making me feel so old

kimiantonelli: oki

kimiantonelli: miss y/ln what kind of pasta do you like

kimiantonelli: *y/n what kind of pasta do you like

olliebearman: you are such a failure omg

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the road was quiet, with taylor swift’s voice filling the silence. y/n had exhausted the conversation with brando, who was tuckered out in the backseat. by now the pair we deep into france, y/n had stopped being able to translate the road signs many miles ago.

the thought of returning to monaco was daunting. there would be ghosts around every corner and memories that y/n wasn’t sure she was ready to confront. y/n wasn’t even sure which drivers even lived in the principality any more - however, she knew that her former teammate did.

lando norris was a bit of an enigma in y/n’s life. there were early growing pains in their friendship? work relationship? but as the 2021 season rolled around, she thought they had finally been ironed out. the gap was slim, but lando had outscored her in 2020, so his ego was still intact and that made him a little more enjoyable to be around.

y/n wasn’t sure who or what had pushed lando over the edge of accepting her as a teammate and not just a mere annoyance, but january 2021 was night and day from her rookie season. y/n had a sneaking suspicion that lando had been subject of some heated PR meetings over the christmas break, but as long as she wasn’t in them, she didn’t really care.

suddenly there was a shift in the atmosphere. lando spoke to her outside of meetings, in between video takes and checked in over the breaks. suddenly lando knew the name of her friends, where she had gone on holiday and her favourite food. y/n didn’t think much of it at the time. but then came everything else.

july 2021.

y/n didn’t tend to spend long on social media, why open herself up to the opinions of stupid people just because they were loud? one morning, a sunny one in monaco, y/n received a flurry of texts from her trainer luca. ripped from her yoga session on max’s balcony, y/n checked her texts.

luca: is there other strenuous activities i need to be aware of?

luca: tiktok.com/userlandonorris/reposts

luca: if this is a thing, should jon and i coordinate training plans?

huh?

y/n clicked the link and was taken to lando’s tiktok page. she felt like an old woman trying to navigate the app but finally found the reposts. the first few she saw were edits of herself? and then a couple talking about “finally being understood by that person” and some other more charged in nature.

what the fuck. there wasn’t a normal day in this team it seemed. y/n pulled back the door and went to find max. the dutchman was tucked into bed, still sore from silverstone just two weeks earlier.

“have you seen this shit?” y/n said, shoving her phone in max’s face, “i mean what does this even mean? 69? i didn’t even know lando could count that high?”

“i think he’s referencing sex, y/n”

“i know he’s referencing sex idiot! why is he referencing having sex with me?!”

“i don’t know, you’re the dumbass who joined that team - he’s probably trying to like get you on side after the shit he pulled in austria and is doing it in classic dumbass lando fashion.”

austria had been eventful. both lando and y/n had somewhat slow starts to the season, with just one podium to their names by the time they pulled up to the red bull ring. the two papaya cars lined up fourth and fifth on the grid, with y/n managing to edge in front of her teammate, which meant the two were subjected to the word teamwork 72 times in a 45 minute meeting (y/n had counted).

when the lights went out, y/n got the jump on the ferrari of sainz ahead of her, wrestling her way past the spaniard and up into third. with cleaner air, max had already wrangled a healthy three second gap back to her and was hunting down lewis, so she focused on keeping the prancing horse behind her. as they approached the steep incline, carlos jerked out to the right and tried his luck up the inside. the spaniard was heavy on his brakes, burning up his tyres as he missed the apex and shunted his front wing into y/n’s front right tyre.

the contact didn’t manage to cause a puncture or any terminal body damage, but the push had made way for carlos, lando and charles to slide past her as she strained to keep her mclaren from going into the gravel trap.

“what the hell was that?” y/n asked down the radio, keeping her eyes focused on charles’ ferrari down the road. “do i have any damage?”

“no damage that we can see. hang back for a couple of laps, the ferraris are eating their tyres and will fall back to you.” jude, her usually cool race engineer, had a bite to his voice.

taking the corner as tight as she could y/n barked back, “surely he has to give that place back? he forced me off the track?!” y/n was practically vibrating, with anger or from the force on her tyres, she wasn’t sure yet. “just keep your head down, we’ll get back to you,” hugo replied.

the ferrari of charles was getting further and further down the road. “hugo their tyres aren’t falling off, can i hunt them down yet? what about this penalty?” it was like talking to a brick wall as the pit wall didn’t reply. y/n bit down the urge to swear up a storm and put her foot down with renewed vigour.

by the next lap y/n had managed to battle her way into charles’ drs and was priming her tyres for a late move further down the track. charles tried to cut off the slip stream and predict which side y/n might choose, but it wasn’t enough as the mclaren breezed past charles before they even hit the apex.

unbeknownst to y/n the silence from hugo was indicative of the larger argument happening on the pit wall. despite putting massive flatspots on his tyres, lando had yet to make his way past sainz’s ferrari. will, lando’s race engineer, was deep in discussion with him over the radio (which would’ve made quite entertaining viewing for y/n after the fact if it didn’t concern her so deeply).

“lando we are confident that sainz will get a penalty. y/n has cleared charles, we need you to back sainz into y/n so she can overtake. when she does we want you to give the position back.”

and if that wasn’t the sentence that summoned the shitstorm.

“why should i give the position back? i did nothing wrong?”

lando kept his foot down and increased the gap between himself and sainz. will’s voice rang out on the radio again,

“lando. sainz pushed y/n off track and you all gained positions, the right thing to do is to give the position back.”

that was a red flag to a raging lando. he let off a spiel that had made the post-race debrief and all media duties torture for the pair of them.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

there was silence on the mclaren radio for a few moments. there was even silence on the broadcasts. no one quite knew what to say to that.

y/n had closed in on sainz, hundredths away from being in the spaniard’s drs range. her radio finally crackled back to life, “y/n you have full permission to use your tyres, we aim to pit soon. you are free to race with lando.”

excuse me? on one hand y/n was glad, there had been a couple awkward moments already this season where she had been told to hold position and not fight. however, that was her position, lost through no fault of her own?

“i am free to race? he should give me that position!”

“you are free to race. head down and clear sainz before we discuss again.”

this was bullshit. she knew it, hugo knew it, zak brown knew it, the broadcast team knew it and deep down lando knew it too. sainz was an easy pass for y/n in the end as she pipped him on the start finish straight. lando had a three second advantage which meant that y/n had some free air to cool down her tyres and get ready to fight her teammate. she would be clean but she was finishing on that podium whether he liked it or not.

within two laps y/n had completely dropped sainz and was breathing down the neck of lando. she was within his drs range as they rounded the final corner but before she could launch an attack lando swerved into the pit lane. that was an early stop? y/n quietly thought to herself that it seemed all too convenient that he was called into pit just as she was about to catch him… not that it really bothered her all too much, the over cut was more powerful at austria, so if she kept her good pace, she should come back out in front of her teammate.

many laps later and a late pit stop for y/n, the younger mclaren driver proudly picked up her second podium of the season. she hauled herself out of the car in parc ferme and immediately embraced max who had once again managed to win his quasi home race, catching lewis with ten laps to go.

once she had been weighed, y/n made her way to the interviews, glad to see it would be jenson conducting them - he always gave her nice questions.

“up first we have our third place finisher, the incomparable y/n y/ln! what a stint on those mediums, i thought for a second you were going to go all the way on them!” jenson said with a wide grin.

“thank you jenson! yeah… after the first lap i thought my race was pretty screwed… the fia took their time with carlos’ penalty so i had to regain my positions myself… but i think all in all it was a good race i’m glad to being going into my home race on the high of a podium and i’ll be looking to do even better there!”

jenson smiled at her but started to pick at his nails, a telltale sign he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to ask. “not to bring you down after a great race, but i must ask, what do you make of lando’s comments on the radio?”

y/n was puzzled, and her face showed that much. she started stuttering and shrugging. one of the production assistants behind jenson passed her a phone and pressed play. y/n held the phone up to her ear and felt the words rush over her.

“carlos did nothing wrong and i did nothing wrong. y/n needs to learn we won’t just let her past like schumacher did. tell her to hurry up if she wants this position back, i won’t give her a podium just because she can’t defend.”

oh. okay. y/n knew she needed to take a couple breaths before she responded or she would say something she would regret. people would probably forget about lando’s comments by next week but if she said something like that she’d be stuck with the brat label for the rest of her career.

“that’s disappointing for sure to hear. third and fourth is a good result for the team and it ended how it should’ve. we’ll discuss this with the team but for right now i’m going to celebrate my podium and drink some champagne!”

jenson gave her a nod to say she did well and beckoned over lewis. y/n walked back to the side of the podium pen and slid in next to max.

“who the fuck does he think he is saying that? i’m being serious, someones got to knock some sense into him,” max said under his breath, aware cameras were still on them.

“i know, it’s bullshit, but i doubt they’ll say anything severe to him.”

just as y/n was making peace with the fact there would be no severe consequences for lando, her and max turned to see the man himself in the media pen. intrigued, both listened in on his interview.

“it sounds bad on the radio, yes. but i stand by the message, maybe not the delivery. this is formula one and y/n needs to know that you can’t just bat your eyelashes and be let by.” lando’s PR handler cuts the interview there and drags him back towards the mclaren garage, barely concealing her anger on her face.

“well, well, well.”

max groaned from under the blanket he had wrapped over his head, snapping y/n out of it.

“yes he was a massive knob in austria, as per usual, but i don’t understand how implying he’s sleeping with me makes it any better? it makes it look so much worse!”

“can you stop bothering me about it i think you just retriggered my concussion.”

“i don’t think that’s a thing, max,” y/n said and then her phone chimed, “speak of the devil, he’s asked if we can go for some lunch to ‘discuss the season’ whatever the fuck that means”

“good leave me alone”

“we’re going to luigi’s do you want me to get you some carpaccio to go?”

“i actually take it back, i love you - yes.”

y/n refilled his water and got his painkillers from the kitchen before she slipped on her shoes and made her way out of the complex. this is what was confusing about lando. he was more than happy to berate her on the radio but then would set up meetings like this like nothing had happened. usually y/n could write it off as a heat of the moment thing - she had once called mick an ‘incompetent cunt with shit hair’ on the radio so she definitely understood it. but it never stopped there, media duties were the death of lando and y/n was interested to see how he aimed to worm his way out of this one.

luigi’s was surprisingly busy for a tuesday afternoon but y/n spotted lando easily with his big jumper in the july heat. lando didn’t stand up to greet her so y/n just sat down as soon as she got to the table.

“do you know what you want to order?” lando snapped the menu shut and looked over to her.

“i’m doing well lando, thanks for asking,” y/n muttered sarcastically, “i’m just going to get some of the salmon, it’s good here.”

the waiter turned up just as she put the menu down and y/n ordered the salmon, a juice and the carpaccio to go. lando had ordered some chicken salad and a water. once the waiter had left he hissed at y/n, “did you order that on purpose?”

“what?”

“the salmon.”

“are you allergic or?”

“no?”

“then what’s the big deal? i like salmon, it’s good for you.”

“i hate fish. everyone knows i hate fish. i invited you here to sort things out and you’re already starting with the mind games.”

y/n’s mouth fell open. he was actually being serious.

“you know not everything is about you right? salmon is in my meal plan and they cook it nicely here. i don’t think about you in everything i do.”

lando huffed, whispering a ‘that i’m sure of’ to himself. this was so childish, and y/n was very to let lando know that. “do you want to repeat yourself lando? or are you going to continue to be a child?”

lando was taken aback, “me being a child? says you! i wanted to talk this out after silverstone like we planned? you were going to come to see my family and everything. they were so excited to meet you, especially my sisters. but no, you let me, let us down!”

y/n actually laughed in disbelief. “i told you i was sorry about silverstone and i was, but max needed me and in that moment he was who i had to be with.”

“it’s always max, isn’t it?”

“he was airlifted to the hospital lando, i’m sure he would’ve preferred me hang out with your family than have to do that again.”

lando had started to rip apart the napkins, a sign he was desperately trying to regulate himself.

“you always choose him! you choose him then, you only stay at his when you’re in monaco - you’re even picking up food for him on our date!”

“our date? are you kidding me? i’m going to ignore that,” y/n took a sip of water,” and for max? i care about him deeply and he was in hospital after a very dangerous crash!”

“then why don’t you care about me? huh?” lando was getting choked up, “you’ve never been there for me when i’ve crashed?”

now y/n was even more confused. lando had wanted her to be there for him when he had crashed but also couldn’t stand to be around her longer than necessary until this season. this boy was such a headfuck.

“you fucking hated me last season lando. and the way you’re acting here and how you acted in austria don’t really tell me that you like me any more.”

lando huffed and crossed his arms like a child. y/n continued, “this is what i don’t get with you. you can’t stand me all last season, literally refusing to call me by my name, only calling me rookie and running from meetings as soon as you can but now, now! i need to be there for your every need. now you can repost dumb tiktoks and fuel rumours about us?”

“they told me we needed to look closer!”

“so you decided to tell the world we’re fucking?”

“i didn’t say that!”

“you basically did, i saw the reposts. and for your information i would never fuck you in a million years.”

“no, that’s for max only isn’t it?”

“what is you people’s fucking obsession with thinking i am sleeping with someone on the grid? is it that inconceivable that i might be able to exist around my fellow drivers without trying to sleep with them?”

“well you should stop acting like you are then!”

y/n stood up abruptly, scraping the chair across the floor. she hastily grabbed her stuff and slotted her sunglasses back.

“you can send me what i owe for the lunch, i don’t feel like sitting here and being berated because you can’t handle this season. you know who actually has something to be stressed about, the guy actually in the title battle, who is in bed still recovering from a crash. so goodbye lando, i’m going to go take care of my friend who actually cares about me and can talk to me without belittling me.”

she sweeped out of the restaurant, the waiter at the entrance saw her coming and passed her the carpaccio. the heat of monaco was sweltering but the drama between her and her teammate was heating up even more.

present.

y/n was still none the wiser about how she felt about lando, even all these years later. something inside of her wanted to reach out to him, reassure him that he was good enough, especially after how 2024 had panned out, but then the memories of their time together at mclaren come flooding back and she feels content with her silence.

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and charles leclerc (italics)

little birdy told me you’re back in monaco

by little birdy i mean your instagram post

omg have you considered a career switch to being a detective?

you’re mean

anyway!

cocktail night at mine tonight

i guess you can bring your losers too

yes that includes ollie before kimi asks

wow that’s a big assumption that i’m going to say yes

drinking on my dime? when have you ever said no?

you have a good point

i’ll be there at 8 - losers in tow

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“we get to go to a cocktail night at charles? oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

kimi squealed down the phone to y/n, “hold on let me tell ollie, we’ve got to get ready!”

y/n could hear him shuffling through their shared flat, “it doesn’t start for another like three hours kimi!”

the two boys had started excitedly discussing outfits and which cocktails are the ‘cool’ ones.

“we’ll swing by yours at 7:45, be ready we won’t wait.”

y/n hung up and turned to max smiling, they were so cute. the two of them had been curled up on the couch with the cats for the majority of the afternoon as y/n was catching up on sleep. the brit turned to max,

“oh i forgot to tell you,” max perked up, “guess who came to my apartment after the GQ thing?”

max shrugged, throwing a toy for jimmy.

“lewis.”

“hamilton?”

“yeah!”

max’s eyes sharpened, “why would he be at yours?”

“wouldn’t you know? you’re the one who gave him my address,” y/n replied, trying to make eye contact with max who was avoiding her gaze.

“yeah i thought he was going to send you like condolence flowers or something not show up unannounced?”

both of them had sat up at this point. brando was sat between them, looking between them confused.

“he showed up and complimented my dress. i asked him if he was sad he missed me at mercedes and he like proper leaned in and asked what i could possibly teach him? kissed my hand and left. it was weird.”

y/n laughed as she recounted the story but max wasn’t laughing.

“it’s funny max, you’re meant to laugh.”

max forces out a sarcastic laugh.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing. i just think it’s weird. food for thought.”

“don’t worry he won’t replace you. you’ll always be my favourite.”

max smiled at that. he piled on top of her, with brando squished in the middle.

“you’ll always stay at mine in monaco right? i’ll always be your best friend on the grid?”

“always,” y/n said, tucking one of max’s hairs behind his ear, “beside where else would i stay? in kimi and ollie’s bachelor pad? i’d rather die”

max let out a laugh and let his head fall on y/n’s chest, her hands immediately tangling in his hair.

“i’m sorry for that. i just love you and our bond, i get jealous that mr seven titles might steal you away.”

“away from you? they’d have to take me kicking and screaming. you’re the only one who had my address, you’re the only one i spoke to in the three years. don’t think i’ll ever not have you first.”

the cocktail party was nearing, but the pair were content to stay tangled on the couch, with a grumpy brando tucked in between them. outside of the apartment, the ghosts of monaco still lingered. maybe it was a good thing charles had a weird obsession with cocktails and his at home bar, y/n could use some liquid courage tonight.

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charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly and 2,304,667 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: it’s been three years and she still can’t mix drinks.

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user1: war is officially over

user2: i hope nothing bad happened between them but it is stuck in my mind that they didn’t talk in the three years

user3: i’m hoping she just flat out wasn’t speaking to anyone but max and charles did nothing bad

user4: his tribute post is still up which others can’t say so

kimiantonelli: i think her drinks are just right!

yourusername: i think we’re gonna work so well together

kimiantonelli: i think so toooooooooo

olliebearman: he’s just really drunk?

yourusername: so he’s not always like this?

olliebearman: loud? not really. but hanging off every word you say? yeah that’s pretty normal

user5: oh how i’ve missed my beautiful wife

user6: lando’s beautiful wife

user7: nuh uh george’s

user8: what about the guy who actually posted it

user9: i actually think you all should kill yourselves!

yourusername: i’m really not that bad you just have bad tolerance

charles_leclerc: i have measuring tools right there and you insist on doing the ‘y/n pour’

yourusername: does the ‘y/n pour’ get the party started or not?

pierregasly: yes because everyone is pissed by 9pm

yourusername: is that not the aim of a party

charles_leclerc: this is a sophisticated soiree - i even bought olives for this

yourusername: oh please

maxverstappen1: i think it would be funnier to watch everyone drunk stumbling around y/n

charles_leclerc: okay well we’d all be a bit more chill if you didn’t gatekeep her for three years

maxverstappen1: don’t care 😛

user10: max is the level of unbothered i need to be right now

user11: he’s on necks even in the off season

user12: so who else is to come?

user13: please please please let the brits be there i need my dose of y/nlando

user14: they're meant to be i swear

user15: oh my sweet summer child

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: enjoy my quick updates while you can i am back at my big girl job tomorrow :((((( but i will try to keep up with this pace where i can!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn

[wcnderlnds]

body language | kang dae-ho

・❥・ summary: the ex marine caught your attention from the moment you met him ・❥・word count: 1k ・❥・warnings: 18+. smut. p in v. unprotected sex. female reader. swearing. ・❥・ authors note: precious little dae-ho needs some love so here we are. this isn't my best work but we all know im still newish to smut 😭

Dae-ho had been the first person you had met when you entered the games. He had an energy about him that was infectious, he seemed like someone you could depend on so from the second he had opened his cute little mouth, you had decided to stay with him. A strong, loyal man was exactly what you needed to survive these games. It helped that he was incredibly charming and nice to look at. So, it was really no surprise that you found yourself pressed up against the cool of the wall behind the bunks with his lips pressed against yours moving with a ferocity of two people whose lives were on the line.

After the second game emotions had been high. The team had barely survived with only seconds to spare. Hearts had been pounding and in the heat of the moment, you had thrown your arms around Dae-ho in the biggest hug imaginable. His big, strong arms had instantly wrapped around yours whispering into your ear how glad he was that the both of you had made it, how thankful he was that he had met you. The sexual tension between the two of you after that moment could be cut with a knife. The longing glances through dinner, the brushing of hands during the vote – it had all led to his body pressing against yours in the dead of night.

At first, you’d approached him wanting to talk but finally, with no other eyes on you, the tension had hit breaking point. His body had you against the wall before you could even blink, his hands on either side of your head as his lips devoured yours. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly close. It was like you needed him to breath. The only thing you cared about was this former Marine having his hands all over you.

“What if someone catches us?” He whispered against your lips. Ever the cautious one.

“They won’t. Everyone’s too busy worrying about the next game and I’m sure we’re not the only ones having a little moment to ourselves,” your voice was a seductive whisper as your hand slid down between his legs. The outline of his cock prominent against the restraints of his sweatpants. You palmed him through his clothes, gently rubbing against his hardening length. He bit his lower lip, holding back the groan threatening to escape. His hand moved to grab yours, guiding you into his sweatpants. He wanted more. He needed more. 

Sliding his hand into his underwear, you grasped his cock giving it a soft squeeze. The small whimper coming from Dae-ho was like music to your ears as you slowly began stroking up and down his thick length. You hadn’t even laid eyes on it yet but you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. He was thick, the thought alone of him stretching you out was enough to make your thighs clench. Your hand continued to move along him, picking up speed. Dae-ho was biting his lip so much you were sure he was about to draw blood. 

Suddenly, his fingers wrapped around your wrist putting your movements to a halt. His breath came heavy as you spoke. “If you don’t stop, I’ll finish before we even get to the good part.”

There wasn't even a chance to reply as he spun you around, your hands pressed against the wall, his cock brushing against your ass. His calloused fingers dove into the front of your sweatpants feeling how wet you already were. Just to be sure you were ready, he dove into your panties, his fingers easily sliding through your folds; your slickness coating his digits.  In a flash he pulled your sweatpants and panties down in one fell swoop, freeing his own cock. He grinded against you, the feeling of his hardness sliding against you making you gasp.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, cock in his hand as he positioned himself.

“Yes, please just fuck me, Dae-ho,” you whimpered, pushing back against him feeling the head of his cock press into you. With his hands on your hips, he slowly pushed himself inside you until his pelvis was fully pressed against your ass – his cock deep inside your pussy.

His thrusts were slow, the drag of his length making you moan quietly. Who cares if there were people around? Who cares if someone caught you? In that moment, all you cared about was getting fucked enough to forget about the horrors going on around you. His fingers gripped your hips softly, his hips pulling almost all the way out then slamming back into you. Your head fell as he continued, your body jerking forward with every thrust. 

He leaned over, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You like that? Like the way that feels, huh?”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Your pleading moans only spurred him on, giving him the courage and consent he needed to kick things up a notch. His calloused fingers slid up under your shirt, squeezing your breasts as he picked up his pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin could be heard but, luckily, the players' snores covered it up. The grunts coming from him signalled his impending release. That all too familiar feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. “I’m gonna…. fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He slammed into you one, two, three more times before his release flooded your insides, filling you up. The feeling of him grinding against you, pushing his seed into you trigged your own release. Your walls clamped down around him as you moaned his name, biting into your own forearm to muffle the sound. Your body shook, breath coming out in short bursts. Dae-ho pulled out of you, making sure to clean you up with some tissue he’d taken from the bathrooms earlier. He threw it under the bed, helping you pull your own clothes back on.

Spinning you around, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb lightly stroking over your cheek. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too hard, did I?”

“No,” you shook your head with a smile. “You were perfect. I like you, Dae-Ho so… stay alive, please. I want to be able to do this again properly.”

He pressed a light kiss to your nose, a silly little smirk on his face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

[drdoofenfaithcreatingchaos]

Slinky the Snake||Lando Norris x fem!reader

Word count — 924

Summary: Lando’s afraid of snakes. Y/N has a snake. Love’s about compromise, right?

A/n it’s 3:30am and I’m finally over the stomach bug and now I can’t sleep mostly because I’ve slept all day.

The first time Lando stepped into Y/N’s apartment, he was struck by how cozy it felt. Plants hung from the windows, books lined the shelves, and her couch looked so inviting that he immediately imagined sprawling across it.

But then he noticed the terrarium. “Uh… what’s that?” he asked, already feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread building in his chest.

Y/N, who was halfway to the kitchen, froze. Slowly, she turned back toward him. “Oh, um, that’s Slinky’s home.”

Lando blinked. “Slinky?”

Y/N hesitated, debating whether to dodge the topic or dive right in. Finally, she sighed, crossing the room to lift the lid of the terrarium.

“Slinky’s my snake.”

And there it was—a ball python, small and unassuming, poking his head out from under a log. Lando’s eyes went wide, and before he even realized it, he’d taken several large steps back.

“Wait… you have a snake?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, her tone defensive but calm. “He’s my pet. And before you say anything, he’s harmless.”

Lando’s face was a mix of disbelief and mild horror. “Harmless? That thing eats live mice! How is that harmless?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He’s a ball python, Lando. He doesn’t even have venom. He’s basically a noodle with a face.”

“A noodle with a face,” Lando repeated flatly, looking at the snake as though it might launch itself at him at any moment.

“Look, you don’t have to love him,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “But… you like me, right?”

Lando’s gaze snapped back to her. “Of course I do.”

“Then give Slinky a chance. Please?”

Fifteen minutes later, Lando was sitting stiffly on Y/N’s couch, eyeing the snake now draped over her shoulders like a scarf.

“He’s not gonna bite me, right?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Not unless you smell like a rat,” Y/N teased.

“Not funny, love.”

Y/N chuckled, reaching up to gently stroke Slinky’s head. “Relax. He’s just curious. See? He likes you.”

Slinky was stretching toward Lando, his tongue flicking as if trying to taste the air around him. Lando, meanwhile, had his hands gripping the couch cushions as though they might save him from a sudden snake attack.

“I don’t think ‘like’ is the right word here,” he muttered.

Y/N leaned back, giving Lando some space. “You don’t have to touch him today. Just sit with us for a bit. Baby steps.” Lando nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

The next time Lando came over, Slinky decided to make himself the star of the show. While Y/N cooked dinner, Lando kept one wary eye on the snake, who was exploring the coffee table. At one point, Slinky nudged Lando’s phone, flicking his tongue against the screen.

“Uh… he’s touching my phone,” Lando called out.

“He’s playing with it,” Y/N replied from the kitchen.

“Playing or trying to eat it?”

Y/N walked in just in time to see Slinky knock the phone off the table. She picked up the snake and laughed. “He’s just being clumsy. He gets like this sometimes.”

Lando watched as Slinky managed to tangle himself in a lamp cord, looking entirely unbothered by his predicament.

“Should we… help him?” Lando asked hesitantly.

Y/N shook her head, untangling the snake with practiced ease. “He’s fine. He’s like a toddler—always getting into trouble but too cute to stay mad at.”

Lando frowned, watching as Slinky made a beeline for Y/N’s arm, curling around her wrist like a bracelet. “Yeah… I’m not seeing the ‘cute’ part yet.”

After weeks of awkward encounters with Slinky, Lando finally decided it was time to face his fear.

“Okay,” he said one evening, standing in Y/N’s living room. “I’m ready to hold him.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You sure? No pressure.”

“I’m sure,” Lando said, though his hands were already clammy. “Just… don’t laugh if I scream, okay?”

Y/N grinned, gently lifting Slinky from his terrarium and walking over to Lando. “Alright, hold your hands out like this,” she instructed, demonstrating the proper way to support the snake.

Lando mimicked her stance, and she carefully placed Slinky in his hands.

“He’s heavier than I thought,” Lando murmured, his voice tight.

“Yeah, but see? He’s just chilling.”

Slinky curled lazily around Lando’s wrist, flicking his tongue in a gesture that Y/N swore was friendly.

Lando froze for a moment, his eyes locked on the snake. But when nothing bad happened, he exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay… this isn’t so bad. He’s kind of… soft?”

“Exactly!”

Y/N stepped back to snap a picture, and Lando immediately glared at her. “Don’t you dare post that.” Lando says as they settled on the couch, Slinky slithered across Y/N’s lap, eventually draping himself over Lando’s legs as well.

“You know,” Lando said, glancing down at the snake, “he’s not so bad. I think I might even like him.”

Y/N smirked. “Just wait till he tries to hide in your hoodie.”

“One step at a time, love. One step at a time.”

[nodoubtily]

MMMM THE WAY-

Fuck. The way I’d actually showcase my cunt to him.

TW:// smut so mdni! Switch!Sunoo x Switch!Fem!Reader, p in v, dirty talk, degrading as fuckkkk, possessiveness, talks of edging but not really detailed, not proofread as this was written at 1:11 am. UPDATE: proofread at 3:28 am

Not your fucking good boy.

“Please-“ he begs, his hands scrunching the bedsheets because you so cruelly won’t let him touch you. And normally he’d be a brat, but he actually wants to fucking cum.

“I don’t know. I feel like you can beg better then that.” You giggle, so happy he’s under your control. “You wanna cum?”

That question opens up a barrage of frustration-filled cries of desperation.

“Yes, oh god- please!” He begs as your hand speeds up around his shaft again before quickly letting go completely, denying yet another orgasm.

“Not good enough. Do you not want to cum? You don’t want to finally release?” You’re laughing, feigning a shocked expression.

“What do you fucking think?” His question stops your wrist moving, but he doesn’t really flinch. Instead, his larger hand grabs your wrist and flings it away from his cock, before moving up to your arm as he manhandles you under him. He straddles your stomach, annoyance covering his face. “Asking stupid fucking questions as if I haven’t been begging.”

He grabs your (his) shirt, pulling it off your body. Thankfully, you’re only wearing panties under, so your pretty breasts are on display. He then moves off you, ripping your flimsy panties off. You, out of instinct, go to close your legs when he wrenches them open, sliding himself in between, his hot throbbing cock resting on your clit.

“Sunoo- you’re not being a very good boy-“ your breath hitches as he slowly starts grinding over your crotch. “Right now.”

“Do you really think you’re in the position to say shit like that? I suggest you keep that dirty mouth closed before I put it to good use.” And for some reason, that shuts you up.

Sunoo pulls back far enough where his cock doesn’t touch your folds, until his fingers spread you entrance wide. With a quick thrust, he slams his dick straight in, quickly bottoming out. You exhale a whine elicited with pain mixed with pleasure. He just straight up groans.

“S-sunoo!” You gasp out, adjusting to him.

“Fuck, how is this pussy still so tight?” His voice is laced with whimpers he’s not afraid to let out.

“M-move.” Your hips don’t even get the chance to create fiction until Sunoo lowers, one hand clamped around your throat while the other comes to your face, fingers mushing your face as he stares into your soul.

“You aren’t making decisions anymore. All you can do now is lay here like the obedient slut you are and take my sensitive cock. It’s your fault I’m like this now.” After that, he begins moving, hips thrusting in short sharp japs, the sound of skin slapping against skin quickly filling the room. “Edging me, trying to make me beg as if I’m your fucking good boy.”

“You ar-are.” Your voice cracks, airway limited due to his hand grasping your neck like a necklace.

“And yet you’re not my good girl, are you?” The question irks you, wondering the last time Sunoo was like this. One particular thrust sends desperate vibrations straight to your pussy, clamping your walls tightly around his cock. “Fucking hell.” A breathy moan escaped from his chest. “This fucking pussy- is mine. All. Fucking. Mine- oh fuck.” Every word is followed with a hard thrust, jolting your body. “Who’s pussy is this?” He asks, feeling you squeezing him, signalling you’re going to cum shortly.

“M-mine.”

Sunoo stops moving, taking away the warm pleasure that’s been building. “Say that fucking again. I dare you.” His voice sounds dangerous, and you know better then to egg him on more. So you stay silent. That wasn’t going to suffice him either. “Who’s. Pussy. Does. This. Belong. To?” Short stabs abuse your g-spot. Pride and wanting to cum fight, but the latter wins.

“you. This p-pussy is yours.” More whines escape from Sunoo’s throat as he continues to relentlessly pound into you.

Sunoo scoffs. You went from smirking to begging quickly. “That’s right. Mine.”

@jyikeu THANKS FOR THE IDEA POOKIE

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 10 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇the argument between antinous and reader seems to go around in circles just ignore that, I was tired when I wrote that a while ago.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The next morning, Y/N stood near her brother, Antinous, in the great hall as the suitors feasted and laughed, their voices echoing through the loud space. She stayed close to him, her usual confidence subdued. Her sharp gaze darted around, avoiding any chance of locking eyes with Telemachus, who sat at the far end of the room, his head bowed and his movements tense.

Antinous noticed her uncharacteristic quietness almost immediately. “What’s with you?” he asked, tearing into a piece of bread. “You’re usually causing some sort of chaos by now.” Y/N shrugged, leaning against the back of his chair and crossing her arms. “Just tired.”

“Tired?” Antinous smirked, looking up at her. “Since when does the great Y/N get tired? Did someone knock you off your pedestal?” She scowled down at him but didn’t take the bait. “Don’t start, Antinous. I’m not in the mood.” Antinous raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Not in the mood, huh? That’s new.” He leaned back, resting his arm over the chair. “What happened? Did Telemachus finally grow a spine and say something to you?” At the mention of Telemachus, Y/N’s jaw tightened, and she looked away, pretending to study the bustling servants in the hall.

“Ah,” Antinous said knowingly, his smirk widening. “It is about him. What’d he do? Trip over his own feet trying to fight you? Or did he cry about his daddy again?” Y/n shot him a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. “Shut up, Antinous.” Her brother blinked in surprise at her tone, then chuckled. “Touchy, aren’t we? Didn’t know you’d get so defensive over the little prince.”

“I’m not defensive,” Y/n snapped, straightening up and crossing her arms tighter. “I just don’t want to talk about him.” Antinous studied her for a moment, his smirk fading slightly. “Did something happen? Did he do something to you? I swear if he did, I’ll make sure I beat his ass so hard he begs Thanatos would take him already.” he asked, his tone losing some of its teasing edge. Y/n hesitated, then sighed, leaning against the table beside him. “It’s nothing,” she said finally. “Just…he’s irritating, that’s all.”

Antinous snorted. “He’s always irritating. What’s new? It’s like everytime you see his mother, you think you can go and flirt with her, but his titty sucking ass is already with her. You can never get her alone anymore.” She hesitated again, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. “He’s…just different lately. He’s trying to act all noble, like he’s something more than he is, like he can stand up to us. Like he actually has the right to even touch us”

Antinous rolled his eyes. “That kid couldn’t stand up to a gust of wind, let alone us. Let him play hero if he wants, it’s not like it’ll change anything.”Y/n nodded, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced. Antinous glanced at her again, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Of course,” Y/n said quickly, straightening up and forcing a smirk. “What else would it be?” Her brother shrugged, picking up his goblet. “Just making sure you’re not going soft, little N/N. Wouldn’t want the prince to win you over with one of his grand speeches or pathetic little stunts.”Y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Please. Like that could ever happen.” Antinous grinned, satisfied, and raised his goblet in a mock toast. “That’s my sister.”

But as Y/N turned away, her expression faltered. Her thoughts drifted to the previous night, the look on Telemachus’s face, the softness in his voice, and the vulnerability he didn’t quite manage to hide. Antinous leaned back in his chair, tearing a chunk off his bread and giving her a sidelong glance. She still stood nearby, arms crossed, a faraway look in her eyes. For a moment, she seemed to have forgotten she was even in the great hall. “Alright, what’s really going on with you?” he said, breaking the silence.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” she replied curtly, though her tone lacked its usual bite. Antinous raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’re acting weird. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. You’re quiet, avoiding people—avoiding him—and now you’ve got this…melancholy look on your face.” He waved a hand at her, looking faintly disturbed. “You’re not getting soft, are you?” Y/n hesitated, her fingers twitching against her arms. Finally, she sighed, dragging out a chair and sitting beside him. “Do you ever wonder…what we’re even doing here?”

Antinous blinked, genuinely startled by her question. “What?” She gestured vaguely around the room. “This. All of this. Sitting here, wasting time while you gamble and insult people. While we—” she paused, her voice dropping, “mock a family that’s already suffered enough.” Antinous stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “Y/n, what the hell are you talking about?” Her eyes flicked to his, a rare seriousness in her gaze. “Don’t you ever think about it? How pathetic it all feels? Fighting over Penelope’s hand like vultures over scraps, while Telemachus—” She stopped, catching herself.

Antinous frowned, leaning forward. “While Telemachus what?” She shook her head, looking away. “Never mind.”

“No, no, no.” Antinous held up a hand, still staring at her like he was waiting for her to confess a crime. “You’re not just gonna drop that. What about Telemachus?” She hesitated again, then sighed. “He’s…just a man. He doesn’t deserve all this. Losing his father, having us invade his home, disrespecting his mother. It’s cruel, Antinous. All of it.” Antinous gaped at her, clearly at a loss for words. “Are you…are you actually feeling bad for him? The kid who glares at us every time we breathe too loud? The one who can barely string two insults together?”

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” she admitted, her voice softer now. “But he’s hurting, Antinous. And here we are, making it worse.”bAntinous put his bread down, rubbing a hand over his face. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”Y/n gave him a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m serious. Don’t you ever stop and think about the damage we’re doing? To them? To ourselves?” Antinous stared at her, still dumbfounded. “You’ve never cared about this kind of thing before. Why now?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, leaning back in her chair. “Maybe I’m just tired of it all. The games, the insults, the cruelty. It’s exhausting.” Antinous leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Y/n, this isn’t like you. You’re the one who loves the games, who lives for the insults. Are you sick? Did you hit your head? Because I’m honestly getting concerned here.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Maybe I’ve finally grown a conscience.”

Antinous groaned, slumping back in his chair. “Great. That’s just what I need, a sister who’s suddenly decided to be all sentimental and righteous. Do me a favor and snap out of it, would you?” She rolled her eyes, but the weight in her chest didn’t lift. Antinous studied her again, his brow furrowed. “You’re really serious about this, huh?” She didn’t answer immediately, but when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than he’d ever heard it. “I just don’t want to be the reason someone else falls apart.”

For once, Antinous had no clever response. He stared at her, the usual smirk wiped from his face, replaced by something unreadable. Finally, he muttered, “Gods, you’re weird today.” She chuckled lightly, though her expression remained distant. “Yeah. Maybe I am.” Antinous shook his head, still looking baffled. “Well, try not to get too noble on me. I don’t need my little sister turning into some hero overnight.”

“Don’t worry,” Y/n said with a faint smirk. “I’ll leave the heroics to Telemachus.” Antinous snorted, his smirk returning. “Now that I’d like to see.” But as she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts drifted again, back to the boy she’d spent so much time tormenting, and the growing guilt she couldn’t quite shake. Antinous leaned forward, his smirk fading into something harder, his voice sharp. “Listen to me, N/N. You need to stop thinking like that. Right now.” She raised an eyebrow at him, her arms still crossed. “Thinking like what?”

“Like they deserve your sympathy,” he said firmly, pointing in the vague direction of where Telemachus and Penelope usually lingered. “They’re rich. They’ve got everything, power, status, this gods damned palace. You think they need your pity?” Y/n frowned, shifting in her seat. “It’s not about what they have, Antinous. It’s about what they’ve lost. Their lives have been torn apart. You can’t tell me you don’t see that.”Antinous scoffed, leaning back and folding his arms. “Lost? Oh, please. What do you think people like us deal with every day? You think the world’s been kind to us? You think we haven’t had to fight tooth and nail for everything we’ve got?”Y/N’s gaze hardened. “That doesn’t mean we should make it worse for them.”

“It means we do what we have to,” Antinous snapped, his tone rising. “You think Odysseus gave a damn about anyone he trampled on his way to the top? He was ruthless, just like every other so called great man. And now we’re supposed to kneel and weep because his brat of a son can’t handle the game?” She shook her head, frustration flaring. “That’s not the point, Antinous. Just because the world’s cruel doesn’t mean we have to be.”

Antinous let out a harsh laugh, standing up and towering over her. “You’re missing the bigger picture, N/N. People like them? They don’t need our kindness. They don’t even know what to do with it. They’ll take your pity, chew it up, and spit it back in your face the second it’s convenient. That’s how power works.” She stood too, meeting his gaze with a defiance he didn’t often see from her. “Maybe they don’t deserve kindness. But what about us? What kind of people do we become if all we do is destroy?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. “We become survivors, that’s what. Do you think anyone gave a damn about us when we were clawing our way up? Sympathy doesn’t get you anywhere, little sister. Strength does. Cunning does. And right now, you’re acting like neither.” Y/N’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe surviving isn’t enough, Antinous. Maybe there’s more to life than this endless cycle of cruelty and ambition.” Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, Antinous didn’t respond. Then he shook his head, a bitter smile on his lips. “You’re soft, N/N. You’re letting that little prince get into your head.”

“I’m not soft,” she shot back, her voice firm. “I’m just tired of pretending that this” she gestured around the room, at the feasting, the shouting, the mockery “is all there is.” Antinous stared at her, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed and sat back down, rubbing a hand over his face. “Gods, you’re impossible today. Just…snap out of it, alright? Stop overthinking everything and remember who you are.”

“And who am I, Antinous?” She asked quietly, her voice laced with a challenge.

“You’re my sister,” he said, looking up at her with a hard glint in his eyes. “Which means you’re not some bleeding heart fool. You’re smarter than this, tougher than this. Don’t let them ruin that.”Y/n didn’t respond immediately. She stared at him, her mind churning with thoughts she didn’t dare speak aloud. Antinous sighs and pulls her close, a rare action he almost never did, “Listen N/N, you know I love you right? You know how I’d rip out someone’s spine if they ever did you harm to you right? Then you should know how I’m only doing this for your own sake. Empathy makes you good but it doesn’t always make you right, you should know this, we’ve had this conversation much before ever since you were a little girl.”

Pandora goes stiff, it’s rare to see Antinous act like a proper person, considering almost every action he makes, would make even the crazed seem rational. “You know, I remember one time when you were younger, you used to be deathly afraid of thunder storms, to the point where the second you would sense one, you would come crying to me and holding onto me like I was some lifeline. You were adorable!” Antinous boasted as he ruffles her hair while her face was crimson red from sheer embarrassment.

“Or the time where you accidentally called me father—“ she immediately shuts him up by covering his mouth. Her expression still scarlet. “Shy much?” Antinous manages to mutter out as he smirks and grabs her arms, slowly pulling them away.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Y/N finally slips away from Antinous. The hall had grown stifling with the usual boisterous laughter of the suitors, and she needed space to clear her head. She wandered into the quieter corridors of the palace, her steps echoing softly against the stone floor. As she rounded a corner, she paused, leaning against the cool wall. Her mind had been restless lately, a tangle of conflicting emotions she couldn’t untangle, and her brother’s words hadn’t helped. For once, she wanted silence, to be left alone to think.

But The Fates, as always, had other plans.

“Y/N.”

Her name, sharp and tense, echoed down the hall. She froze, the voice instantly recognizable. Turning her head, she saw Telemachus striding toward her, his face a mask of barely contained anger. She sighed, straightening. “What do you want, Telemachus?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the distance between them with quick, determined steps. Before she could react, he grabbed her arm and pressed her against the wall, his eyes blazing.

“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, his voice low but furious. “Why have you been avoiding me?” She blinked, momentarily stunned. She had never seen Telemachus like this, so intense, so…forceful. It was almost amusing, if not for the way his grip tightened just slightly, his frustration palpable. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” she said with a casual shrug, as if his anger was nothing more than a passing breeze. “Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, leaning closer. “You’ve been stuck to Antinous’s side for days, refusing to even look at me. Why? Did I do something wrong?” She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “And why does it matter to you? Did you miss me, little wolf?”

“Stop calling me that!” he barked, slamming his palm against the wall beside her head. “Just tell me why, Y/N! Why are you hiding?”

She stared at him for a long moment, the smirk slipping from her lips. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?” he echoed, his voice trembling slightly. “You’ve been driving me insane! First, you humiliate me, then you act all sad and pitiful, and now you’re acting like I don’t even exist! What kind of game are you playing?”

She narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping. “It’s not a game, Telemachus.”

“Then what is it?” he pressed, his face so close she could feel the heat radiating from him.

She was silent for a moment, her gaze flickering over his face. “You’re too young to understand,” she said finally, her tone dismissive. Acting as if she’s not basically the same age but okay

“Don’t patronize me.” He growled. “You think you can just toy with people and walk away? I’m not going to let you do that to me.” Her smirk returned, though it was smaller this time. “Oh, Telemachus. You’re so naive.”

His grip tightened on her arm, and she could feel the tremor in his hand, born not of strength, but of raw emotion. “I’m not naive,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m frustrated. And you don’t get to brush me off like this.”

Y/N’s gaze softened for just a moment, but it was fleeting. She leaned in, her voice low and dangerous. “And you don’t get to pin me against a wall and act like you’re in control. What, Did your balls just now grow? Does bwig stwong Telemachus wanna play the role of the man of the house?”

Telemachus’s grip on the wall wavered as his frustration reached its peak. He leaned in, his face so close to her’s that he could feel the warmth of her breath. Her smugness, her teasing, it all melted away in the intensity of the moment. Her lips parted slightly, as if she was about to say something, but the words never came. Before he could think, before either of them could stop it, their lips collided in a clumsy, heated kiss. It was a mixture of anger, confusion, and something neither of them could quite name.

For a split second, everything else disappeared, the tension, the insults, the chaos around them. All that remained was the electrifying realization that they had crossed a line they couldn’t take back. Then, just as quickly as it happened, they both pulled away, breathing heavily. Y/n back pressed harder against the wall, and Telemachus stumbled back a step, his eyes wide with shock.

“Wow…” she muttered, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. She blinked, her cheeks flushed. “Uh… okay then.”

Telemachus ran a hand through his hair, his face as red as the setting sun. “Yeah. Okay. That… just happened.”

Y/n’s lips quirked up into a small, nervous smile, but for once, she didn’t have a snarky comment ready. “Guess we’re, uh… even now? No! What the hell was that?” she demanded, her voice louder than intended.

“I don’t know!” Telemachus said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t thinking—I just—” They both stood there, frozen, staring at each other in stunned silence. The corridor, which moments ago had been filled with tension and anger, now felt suffocatingly quiet. Y/n’s mouth opened and closed like she was searching for something to say, but for once, she was at a loss for words. Finally, she managed to choke out, “You… you kissed me.”

“You kissed me too!” Telemachus shot back, pointing at her like a cornered animal. Y/N’s brow furrowed, and she crossed her arms, though her cheeks burned red. “That’s not how this works! You started it!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Telemachus said, his voice rising in pitch. He looked like he wanted to disappear, his hands now fidgeting wildly at his sides. “It just happened!” They stood there in awkward silence, the air between them thick with unspoken questions and emotions. Finally, she broke the tension with a shaky laugh.

“Well, little wolf,” she said, her voice regaining some of its usual edge. “Never knew you had that dog in you.” Telemachus groaned, covering his face with his hand in embarrassment. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

They lapsed into another awkward silence, neither of them daring to move or speak for what felt like an eternity. “I’m leaving,” Telemachus finally blurted, turning sharply on his heel. He took two steps before tripping over his own feet, stumbling forward with an awkward flail of his arms. “I’m fine!” he said loudly, throwing a hand in the air as if that would somehow restore his dignity.

Y/n watched, still plastered to the wall, as he stumbled down the hallway, nearly tripping again before regaining his footing. He didn’t look back, though his awkward hand motions as he walked away spoke volumes. She stared after him for a long moment, her heart pounding and her cheeks still burning. Slowly, she raised a hand to her lips, her fingers brushing over them as she tried to process what had just happened.

“What… the hell was that?” she muttered to herself, sinking back against the wall.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Y/N wandered aimlessly down the dim corridor, her thoughts spinning like a cyclone. She could still feel the warmth of Telemachus’s lips lingering on hers, and it both irritated and confused her. What was that? What in Hades was I thinking? Her fingers brushed against her lips, her mind replaying the moment over and over, despite her best efforts to forget it. She muttered to herself, “It didn’t mean anything. Just a stupid, impulsive—”

“Well, well, well,” came a sly voice from the shadows behind her. “Looks like Eros was busy shooting his arrows tonight, hm?”

She froze, her heart leaping into her throat. She spun around to find Eurymachus leaning casually against the wall, a knowing smirk plastered across his face.

“Eurymachus,” she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. “What are you doing lurking around like some creep?”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he said, his smirk widening. “I just happened to witness something… fascinating.” He tilted his head, his tone dripping with mockery. “You and the little princling, locking lips in the middle of the hall, like you were the next Orpheus and Eurydice? Now that’s a story worth telling.” Her eyes widened, panic surging through her.

Y/n’s eyes widened, panic surging through her. “You saw that?” Y/N clenched her fists, her mind racing. This couldn’t be happening. If Eurymachus had seen them, then it was only a matter of time before he told—

“Clear as day,” Eurymachus said, crossing his arms as he took a step closer. “And I have to say, it was quite the spectacle. Antinous is going to love this, your dear brother won’t know whether to laugh or strangle Telemachus.”

“No,” she said quickly, her voice sharp. She straightened, trying to look composed despite the alarm coursing through her. “You’re not telling him anything.”

“Oh?” Eurymachus said, feigning innocence. “And why wouldn’t I? Antinous deserves to know what his baby sister has been up to, doesn’t he? Especially when it involves Telemachus of all people.” He exclaimed, uttering Telemachus’s name like it was some kind of curse. She clenched her fists, her mind racing for a way out. She took a step forward, her voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “If you say a word to him, Eurymachus, I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, his grin turning smug. “Threaten me? Beat me up? Don’t forget, Pandora, I’m not a little virgin bitchy prince, who hasn’t been touched by a woman who isn’t his mother, up until now, you can just threaten.”

Y/n’s nails dug into her palms. “You don’t have to tell him,” she said, trying to keep her tone calm, almost pleading. “It wasn’t anything. Just… a mistake. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, it matters,” Eurymachus said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Antinous will think it matters a lot. And you know how protective he can be.” Her swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. Eurymachus had her cornered, and he knew it.

“Please,” she said through gritted teeth, hating herself for even uttering the word. “What do you want, Eurymachus?” He leaned casually against the wall, inspecting his nails like he had all the time in the world. “I might be willing to keep my mouth shut. For a price.” She narrowed her eyes. “What kind of price?”

Eurymachus straightened, his grin widening. “Just a few errands. Simple stuff, really. Things that someone as resourceful as you should have no trouble handling.” She scoffed. “Errands? Do I look like a servant to you?”

“Well, no,” he said, stepping closer, his tone darkening slightly. “But if you’d rather I tell Antinous about your little midnight rendezvous with Telemachus, then by all means, feel free to decline.”

Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, fury bubbling under her skin. She wanted nothing more than to knock that smug expression off his face, but she knew she couldn’t afford to take that risk. “What kind of errands?” she asked through gritted teeth.

Eurymachus chuckled. “Glad you asked. First, I need you to ‘borrow’ a certain necklace from one of the servants in the palace. Let’s just say it’d make a fine addition to my collection.”

“You want me to steal for you?” She snapped, her voice rising.

“Borrow. she’ll get her rings back, if she sleeps with me that is.” Eurymachus corrected with a smirk. “Second, I need you to find out who’s been sneaking food to the servants late at night. I have a hunch it’s one of the other Suitors, and I’d hate for someone to get too charitable around here.”

Y/n glared at him. “Anything else, or is that all?”

He tapped a finger to his chin, pretending to think. “Oh, one more. Tell that little prince to put in a good word for me to his mother..”

“You’re disgusting,” she hissed.

“And you’re out of options,” he shot back, his grin never faltering. “Do these for me, and your little secret stays safe. Refuse, and, well…” He shrugged, letting the unspoken threat hang in the air. She stared at him, her nails digging into her palms as she considered her choices. Finally, she gave a sharp nod. “Fine. But if you go back on your word—”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “I’m a man of my word, Y/N. You should know that by now.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving y/n standing in the hallway, seething with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” she muttered to herself. “One way or another.”

[dreamstation]

[17:18] "Jaemin,“ you say, words turning into a whine. "Stop it.”

You pout when your words do nothing but draw a teasing laugh out of him. The polaroid in his hands has him smiling like a fool, showing off that beautiful smile you adore. Nevertheless, you groan, hiding your face behind your hands in regret. Jaemin brings the photo next to your hidden face, smile still intact, eyes darting back and forth as if comparing you to the photo. You grab at it, but Jaemin quickly pulls his hand back, shaking his head. “Nope, nope, absolutely not.”

Waving the photo around, he says gleefully, “I’m keeping this. Just so that you’ll never get the chance to burn it.”

Falling back onto the bed, you huff, eyeing him with narrowed eyes. He chuckles again, brushing his newly dyed hair back before carefully setting his camera to the side. Your eyes flock back to his face, wandering up from his upturned lips to his joyful eyes. His gaze doesn’t falter as your eyes meet.

“Please, stop smiling at me like that.” You murmur, covering your eyes with your arm. Putting your arm down slightly, you peek at his moving figure, kneeling on the bed and crawling his way toward you. He plops down on your side, an arm and leg thrown over your body, head propped up on your chest, still smiling proudly. You purse your lips in annoyance, and you take note of how his eyes drift down to them. “I’m not sure what will happen if you keep doing that.”

“Oh? And what exactly,” he asks, his voice low and soft, his tone unhurried, “might happen?”

You pause, taking in the proximity between the two of you. His figure draped over yours, he tilts his head in curiosity, eyebrows raised. A wry smile settles on his face, and you chuckle fondly, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. Your hand settles down to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing it comfortingly. His lips fall into a slight pout when you don’t answer, and you squeeze his cheek gently, lips curving into a smile.

“Just – something…” You mumble, shrugging, turning your gaze up to the ceiling. 

He shimmies his body a bit higher, in height with yours, and raises his hand, still holding the Polaroid you took just moments ago. You take in all its details; his one hand wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you close, his other hand outstretched to take the photo. With the exhilaration rushing in your head from all the enjoyment, you turned the moment he pressed the button, pressing a kiss on his cheek. The photo captured his reaction perfectly. Eyes slightly blown wide, lips parted in surprise. 

Jaemin turns his head towards you, but your eyes don’t leave the photo still raised by his hand. He pulls his hand down, and you turn to face him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“We kinda look like a couple, don’t you think?” Jaemin whispers, his face painted with a soft smile.

You mirror his expression shyly, smile turning bashful. You look away. “Yeah… kinda.”

[kisakunt]

nipple play and geto + choso

geto who teases them till all hell and choso whos got an oral fixation and weird fascination with them.

-🫡

cleaver! geto x reader, choso x reader

warnings: pain in geto’s, nipple play, choso is the loml matter of fact.

geto is a monster. you suspected it before, but you’re sure of it now, chest rising sharply as you writhe. he’s got one of your tits in his mouth, tongue pointed against the nipple, lips squeezing around it like he’s going to pull it off. his other hand is fervently working, nails just so barely digging into your areola while he clamps hard on your bud.

“that hurt?” his tone is calm, monotone and aggravating as ever— and oh so sexy—, muffled against your chest. he pinches down harder, dragging a whine out of you.

“too much for you to take, pretty girl?” you don’t bother to answer as he goes back to sucking with a slurping noise, working diligently on what you can only assume is to hurt you. it’s twisted, you think, the way your pussy clenches from the contact, the wet you feel dripping down your thighs embarrassing you.

you can feel him, hard and angry, against your hip and you moan breathlessly. this is unfair. suguru is a vile man. he tweaks at you, twists in an ungodly way, and has the nerve to laugh against your skin when you whimper.

“sugu— can’t! no more, please!” it stings, sure, but it feels too good. you think, pathetically enough, you could cum from just this. and you can tell he knows that.

he pulls back enough to look up at you over your breasts and clicks his tongue in disagreement. “i’m not gonna be done any time soon, sweetheart.” and he goes until you physically can’t take it anymore— until your back arches, you push up into him as hard as you can, and then your body falls limp as you pass out. then he pulls back and places a series of slow and soft kisses along your pads. he’ll fuck you when you come to, he decides.

choso is too perfect for his own good. he is a man of great infatuation; to the way he counts all the freckles on your back to how he knows all your favorite nail shades and what stores you like to shop at. he’s also obsessed— obsessed— with your body.

when it comes to your nipples, he’s enamored, intrigued, beyond comprehension. he sucks lightly, as if it were a pacifier, other hand anxiously placed on your ribs. it’s hot, it’s heavy, but it’s not inherently sexual.

it’s a slow process, needy for your touch and skin and being. he suckles on you, tongue swirling around in slow circles. he grins against you as you gasp, pulling back just barely to ask a simple “are you okay?”

this is heaven to him, a blessing from the gods, and as he feels you clench up he knows he’s doing good enough. he knows, of course, you want more but he’s steady, calm with his touch.

spit dribbles down your chest, a sloppy and vulgar and pure mess. he thinks he was meant to be here and you’re sure he is.

choso is obsessed with you, and he shows it when he worships your breasts every chance he can get.

[fangdokja]

i keep rereading your yan marine corps! x fem reader. what was reader's role that she had to follow the marine's... adventure?

"You’ll never escape me—not when I’m the only one keeping you alive."

❤︎ Synopsis. In a world where death is mercy and survival means suffering, he claims you as his, promising protection through fear, control, and a twisted love that will leave you questioning if escape was ever truly possible.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Marine Corps x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #2 - The Devil Who Saved You

♡ Word Count. 3,153

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, descriptions of gore and human suffering, themes of violence and dystopia

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr content guidelines involving minors, some plot details of the original story were changed to fit the platform. If you want the true original story, please look at the author's official website or Ao3.

♡ A/N. I'm glad you enjoyed it :)). I'm surprised you're rereading it a bunch. But, I guess people do technically reread anyway. Sorry, slipped out of my mind. It just makes me happy seeing underrated works get credit, whether fandom or other stories I've written. So, thank you. Anyways. Technically, this was an ask. But it's a nice idea, and I've already had it in my drafts since before. I was just postponing lore dump with Yandere! Marine Corps, due to other works. Anyways. All I knew before, in all honesty, is that it's war time. But, time to pull out the fantasy skills and world build! Wooh! And to be honest, I'm hungry to write some gore crumbs like my familiar writing style, ahh. So, here, I present to you lore backstory (well technically part of the backstory). Hope you all enjoy it (also, sorry I talk a lot in notes).

♡ Music. Levee & Brick (Down to This) by Graffiti Ghosts

The world had fallen into an abyss so deep it seemed there was no end to its descent. The wars that came before—those waged for borders, ideologies, or resources—were merely preludes to this ultimate collapse. What erupted now was not war; it was annihilation. A calamity that turned cities into craters and humanity into prey. Every shred of civility burned away in the endless fires of desperation. The air was thick with the ash of the old world, a grim veil that painted the skies an eternal gray.

You had lived a different life once, one of relative normalcy in the dwindling days before the collapse. Back then, you had a future, a purpose, something as simple and human as hope. But that had been stripped away when the world’s powers unleashed devastation so complete it birthed horrors no living creature could comprehend. Technology had become a weapon of eradication, bioweapons and nanotech turning survivors into deformed creatures of flesh and steel, feral and mindless, hunting whatever moved. Rogue factions—remnants of militaries, mercenaries, and scavengers—rose like carrion birds, preying on the remnants of humanity.

In this hellscape, survival was no longer a matter of luck but of submission. Submission to those strong enough to carve their will into the earth and impose their dominion. He was one of those few. A towering force of unyielding violence, a soldier molded by decades of carnage, by a war that had reshaped him from a man into something closer to a machine of flesh and blood. The United Corps, once a venerated military institution, had fractured into splinter groups, each operating like a self-contained warlord’s regime. He was among their best—a leader, an executioner, a strategist, and now your captor.

You were assigned to him by pure chance—or perhaps cruel design. In this new order, value wasn’t measured by money or power but by the usefulness of flesh and mind. And you had been marked as useful. Perhaps it was your background—your knowledge, your resilience, or simply the misfortune of catching his attention when your convoy was intercepted by his unit. The corps didn’t merely take prisoners; they assessed, dissected, and consumed whatever remnants of humanity they deemed salvageable.

And he deemed you salvageable.

There were no illusions about the nature of his claim over you. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t mercy. It was obsession, possessive and cruel, born of a warped sense of necessity. “You belong to me now,” he had told you in that deep, unrelenting tone, the heat of his breath warming your face even as the chill of his words froze your soul. “Out there, they’ll rip you apart for the scraps on your bones. With me, you’ll live—if you behave.”

The battlefield was safer than the no-man’s land outside his dominion. That was the most damning truth. To run from him was to dive into a living nightmare where survival wasn’t a goal but a punishment. Outside his protection, death was not granted quickly.

You’d seen it. You’d heard the screams echoing through the wastelands, watched the crude factories churn with suffering. He’d forced you to look once, pressing your face against the window of a blood processing plant as tears streaked down your cheeks. “This is what’s waiting for you if you run,” he had whispered, his voice devoid of sympathy. “With me, you’re mine. Out there, you’re theirs. Decide.”

────────────

The smell hit you first. It wasn’t just the copper tang of blood; it was the rancid stench of rotting flesh mixed with chemicals—formaldehyde, acid, and something sour that clawed at the back of your throat. You gagged, instinctively raising a trembling hand to cover your nose, but he was quicker. His large, calloused fingers wrapped around your wrist, dragging your arm back down with enough force to make you whimper.

“Don’t look away,” he growled, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating like a distant explosion. “You need to see this.”

You didn’t want to see. You didn’t! But he held you there, his unyielding grip on your wrist a silent command. He stood just behind you, close enough that his breath fanned across the back of your neck, hot and suffocating.

The factory loomed before you like the mouth of some great beast, its jagged, rusted metal teeth glinting in the dim light of the sulfur-stained sky. The air outside had been foul, but inside, it was worse—a miasma of decay and despair.

The conveyor belts stretched endlessly, carrying bodies in various states of disassembly. Some were intact, their limbs hanging limply as they were dragged by crude metal hooks. Others were barely recognizable—mangled flesh and shattered bone mashed together in a grotesque parody of humanity. You tried to look away, to focus on the machinery, but even that was a nightmare of grinding gears slick with gore.

A loud, wet squelch drew your attention to a nearby station. A corpse—a woman, or at least what remained of her—was hoisted onto a steel slab. Her eyes were still open, glassy and staring, as if frozen in the moment of her death. A mechanical arm descended, its blade glinting dully under the flickering industrial lights. It carved into her chest with a precision that was almost surgical, splitting her ribcage open to reveal the organs beneath.

You felt bile rise in your throat as another arm extended, pincers gripping her heart. It yanked the organ free with a sickening suction sound, sending a spray of blood across the walls and floor. The heart was deposited into a waiting vat, where it joined dozens of others, floating in a viscous, murky liquid.

“They don’t waste anything,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion, as if he were explaining the workings of a simple machine. “Every part has a purpose. The skin for leather. The bones for tools. The organs for… whatever the hell they need them for.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you, his arm snaking around your waist to keep you upright. “No,” he hissed, his breath hot and sharp against your ear. “You don’t get to faint. You’re going to watch. You’re going to understand.”

A scream tore through the air, high-pitched and raw, and you realized with horror that some of them weren’t dead. Your eyes darted to the source of the sound, landing on a man thrashing against his restraints as he was dragged toward another station. His legs were gone, severed at the thighs, and the stumps had been crudely cauterized to keep him alive.

“Please,” the man sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. “Please, just kill me. Just—”

The blade came down before he could finish, cleaving his remaining arm from his body. His scream turned guttural, the sound of a soul breaking, before it was cut off entirely by a needle plunging into his neck. The liquid injected was thick and black, spreading through his veins like oil. His body convulsed violently for a moment before going still.

You turned your head, choking on a sob, but he gripped your chin and forced you to face the scene again. His fingers dug into your skin, bruising and relentless.

“This is what happens without me,” he said, his voice a low snarl. “You think you can survive out there? Think you can make it without my protection? Look at them!” He shook you slightly, as if to drive the point home. “This is what you are without me—meat.”

Tears streamed down your face, hot and shameful, as you stared at the conveyor belts and the countless bodies reduced to parts. You couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop the nausea that twisted your stomach into knots.

Another scream pierced the air, this one an elder's. Your head snapped toward the sound, and your heart plummeted. A thin figure, frail and sickly, was strapped to a table, his wide, terrified eyes fixed on the approaching machinery.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “No, no, no…”

The machine didn’t care. The blades descended, and you squeezed your eyes shut, the image burned into your mind even as you tried to block it out.

He didn’t let you escape even that. His hand tightened on your jaw, forcing your eyes open. “Don’t you dare look away,” he growled. “This is reality. This is what’s waiting for you if you run.”

You broke then, sobbing uncontrollably, your body wracked with shuddering breaths. He held you there, unyielding, until you were too weak to fight. Only then did he pull you close, his grip on you shifting from punishing to possessive.

“That’s right,” he murmured, his tone softening in a way that was somehow more terrifying. “You understand now, don’t you? You’re mine. And as long as you’re mine, this will never happen to you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, a mockery of comfort as he whispered, “But if you ever forget, I’ll bring you back here. And I’ll make you watch again.”

────────────

The battlefield stretched like a bleeding wound across the earth, jagged trenches carved into the mud and ash. The remnants of what had once been cities were nothing more than skeletal buildings clawing at the smog-choked sky. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burning fuel and the gut-wrenching stench of charred flesh. Bomb craters bubbled with viscous, oily water that gleamed under the pale, radioactive sun. It was a place where hope had been smothered, where humanity’s last breaths came in choking, gurgling gasps.

He stood before you, his shadow long and oppressive, a monolith of muscle and bloodied steel. His armor—if you could call the piecemeal, blood-streaked remains of his tactical gear armor—clung to him like a second skin, the fabric worn thin and blackened with soot. In his hand, a rifle dangled lazily, as though he didn’t need it. And he didn’t. He was a weapon unto himself, his body and mind honed by decades of violence, cruelty, and war.

“Do you remember this place?” His voice was a low rumble, scraping against your nerves like a blade dragged across bone. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, bore into you with a force that made your knees weak. “Where I found you?”

You nodded faintly, though you didn’t trust your voice enough to speak. Your silence wasn’t just fear—it was a learned response, a survival tactic you’d mastered in the years since he’d claimed you.

“Do you know what they were going to do to you?” He crouched, bringing his face level with yours. His presence was suffocating, his frame dwarfing your own. His voice dropped lower, almost tender, as though sharing a secret. “No, you don’t. You only saw what they let you see. Let me show you the rest.”

He yanked you forward, his grip on your wrist unyielding, and led you toward the edge of the battlefield. The ground squelched beneath your feet, a revolting mixture of mud, blood, and something viscous that you didn’t want to identify. In the distance, the ruins of an old hospital came into view. The building leaned at an unnatural angle, its walls crumbling but still intact enough to conceal the horrors within.

“You’ve seen death,” he said, his tone conversational, as though discussing the weather. “But you haven’t seen what people do when death isn’t enough. When they want to break you first.”

The interior of the hospital reeked of antiseptic and decay. The sterile smell of chemicals clashed with the unmistakable odor of rot. The walls were streaked with dark stains, their origins uncomfortably clear as you stepped over discarded limbs, the flesh marbled with gangrene and crude surgical scars.

In the first room, a soldier lay strapped to a gurney, his body contorted unnaturally. His chest had been split open, ribs wrenched apart like the wings of a grotesque bird. His heart was missing, the cavity where it had once beat filled with a tangled mess of wires and tubing. The machinery whirred softly, pumping fluids through his veins and forcing his lungs to expand and contract in shallow, mechanical breaths. His eyes were still open, rolling wildly in their sockets as they locked onto you.

“He’s alive,” the man behind you whispered, his voice a mix of mockery and menace. “Barely. They like to see how far they can push the human body before it gives out. Sometimes they even stitch people back together, just to see how much more they can take.”

You gagged, your stomach lurching violently, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face the horror. “Don’t look away,” he commanded, his tone sharp and unyielding. “You need to understand. This is what was waiting for you.”

He dragged you into another room, this one colder, darker. Rows of tanks filled the space, each containing a murky, greenish fluid that distorted the shapes inside. At first, you thought they were bodies, but as you moved closer, you realized they were something worse. Limbs were fused together in impossible configurations, heads sprouted from torsos without necks, and eyes blinked independently in faces twisted beyond recognition. The creatures floated listlessly, their expressions a grotesque mix of agony and confusion.

“Human experimentation,” he explained, almost lazily. “They weren’t trying to kill you. They were going to use you. Turn you into something like this. A weapon. Or worse—a resource.”

You stumbled backward, but he caught you, his arm curling around your waist with a possessive strength that left no room for escape. He pressed his lips to your ear, his voice a dark caress. “I killed them all for you. Do you see now why you belong to me? Why you owe me your life?”

He pushed you onward, through rooms filled with horrors you couldn’t have imagined in your darkest nightmares. A man impaled on a series of metal rods, his skin flayed back to expose muscle and bone, still breathing through a series of tubes jammed into his throat. A woman with her limbs replaced by crude prosthetics, her mouth sewn shut but her eyes screaming. People of all ages locked in cages, their bodies twisted and deformed, their cries muffled by gags soaked in blood.

“This is what humanity has become,” he said, his voice cold and detached. “This is what I saved you from. You were a prize to them. A rare find. They would’ve broken you in ways you can’t even imagine.”

You fell to your knees, the weight of it all crashing down on you. He crouched beside you, his bloodied hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, were filled with something dark, something terrifyingly close to affection.

“Don’t forget this,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t ever forget who saved you. Who you belong to. Because without me…” His voice trailed off as he gestured toward the carnage around you. “This is all you’d ever know.”

You sobbed, the sound muffled against his chest as he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was as suffocating as it was unyielding, a cage that you could never escape. And yet, in that moment, you clung to him, because the alternative was too horrifying to bear.

────────────

So you stayed.

Not because you trusted him. Not because you wanted him. But because the alternative was infinitely worse. And yet, staying came with its own horrors, its own chains. His obsession didn’t shield you from his cruelty; it only redirected it. He was a man who didn’t just command obedience—he demanded submission. Every glance, every word, every trembling breath was a reminder of your place beneath him. When he touched you, it wasn’t with gentleness. His hands were calloused and bruising, gripping and claiming, leaving marks that would never fade.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he would say when your eyes filled with defiance or despair. “You’re still alive because I allow it.”

The world outside was dead, a barren wasteland of mutilation and starvation, yet with him, the torment was suffocatingly personal. He didn’t just want your compliance; he wanted your surrender. His words were a scalpel, cutting into your psyche with surgical precision. He would pull you close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and gravelly as he whispered promises of protection intertwined with threats so visceral they made your stomach churn.

“You’re mine,” he’d say, his hand resting possessively on your throat. “Every inch of you. Every thought. Every breath. Try to take that away from me, and I’ll show you what real pain feels like.”

There were moments when his control slipped, when the line between protector and predator blurred beyond recognition. He would keep you close, his body a cage of muscle and violence, his gaze piercing through your facade of composure. The way his hands roamed wasn’t tender—it was invasive, a reminder that he could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and there was nothing you could do to stop him.

And yet, you didn’t resist. Couldn’t. Resistance wasn’t a choice. Not here. Not with him.

The world outside was unlivable. The world with him was unbearable. Between the two, you chose to endure.

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[annebd]

This is not!fic. Inspired by this gif and the way that the maxiel brain rot immediately threw this idea at me.

Max is a student in some sort of art-adjacent course. Perhaps architecture or some kind of engineering program that has a significant design component.

For hand-wavey reasons, his program requires that he take at least one traditional art class. He can’t escape it, despite his best efforts, so he gets stuck taking Drawing and Painting 101.

It’s just as terrible as he suspects. He has a decent level of natural artistic ability, but he can’t be bothered to put in any effort at all. He insists on drawing one single apple for the still life unit. He adds a worm to it. His landscapes are indistinct blobs of blue and green oil paint. His charcoal work is just a series of black smudges on page after page of his sketchbook.

His professor is wholly unimpressed and is on the verge of dropping him from the course entirely and requiring him to start over again next semester. They have several tense meetings during office hours about it, with the professor practically begging him to just try. Max stubbornly refuses to admit that this isn’t the best work he’s capable of. No one believes him.

Then they get to the life study module.

Max shows up and sulks over to his usual spot towards the back of the room and slumps into his chair. He hasn’t even looked at the model yet. He hadn’t planned to look at all. His plan was just to draw a random person- perhaps a series of stick figures- and call it a day. 
He’s scrolling on his phone, waiting for class to start, and he hears a big honking laugh. It’s distracting enough that he looks up, only to meet eyes with the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen. Who is in the middle of dropping his robe to reveal the most gorgeous cock Max has ever seen.

He grabs his stuff and moves right up to the front row, where he has never, not once, sat before. The entire class just stares as he whips out his sketchbook and a drafting pencil- completely the wrong implement for this sort of class- to start drawing like a man possessed.

The model (whom the professor introduces as Daniel and says will be joining their class for the next three weeks as they move through the life study segment of the course) hasn’t even had a chance to get into position yet. He’s just standing there, dick blowing in the breeze, and Max is sketching up a storm.

Within minutes, he’s produced a practically photorealistic rendition of Daniel- or at least, approximately six and a half inches’ worth of Daniel. Then he does another. And another. Daniel is moving through the poses that the professor has asked him to do- two 30 minute poses, a couple 15 minute ones, and then a few that he holds for just 5 minutes each. Max is unconcerned about the change in poses. He’s just churning out sketch after hyperrealistic sketch of Daniel’s cock.

He’s painstakingly penciling in every single one of Daniel’s individual pubes. He’s leaning in as close as he can get in order to map out the exact curve of the flare of his head. At one point, he nearly reaches out to grab Daniel’s hip to turn him a little more to Max’s direction, but before he can make contact, his professor grabs him by the back of his hoodie and yanks him back into his seat.

Max blushes a little at that but doesn’t stop sketching.

After the class, he waits impatiently for Daniel to get dressed (he wasn’t raised in a barn. He has some manners) before he goes over and says “I’m Max. Can I please buy you a coffee? And then also suck you off?”

Daniel is charmed and also a little confused, but he’s not going to turn down caffeine and a blowie from a beautiful boy.

They live happily ever after.

(Max submits all of the sketches that he does of Daniel’s schlong as part of his final portfolio, and the professor agrees that they’re evidence enough of his abilities, so Max passes the class- just barely. He says it was by the skin of his teeth. Daniel says it was by the foreskin of his dick.)

[enha-cafe]

i wanna, lick you from your head to your toes and i wanna, move from the bed down to the, down to the, to the flo' then I wanna, "ahh ahh, " you make it so good I don't wanna leave but i gotta know, what-what's your fantasy? i wanna get you in the georgia dome on the fifty-yard line while the dirty birds kick for tree and if you like in the club, we can do it in the dj booth or in the back of the vip whipped cream with cherries and strawberries on top, lick it don't stop keep the door locked, don't knock while the boat rock we go-bots and robots, so they got to wait 'til the show stop or how about on the beach with black sand

[darling-eos]

I’m once again in my Detroit Become Human phase, and I am yet again questioning why Connor can’t be real

[h4unted-d4rling]

I will never get over the way Michael bursts down the closet door in the first movie it’s so fucking attractive like I’m sorry but if I was Laurie I would have fucking folded I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me

[bucksslut]

gnawing at the bars of my enclosure— hello?? 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[jazz-the-writer]

Why DO HIS BBL TEXTS READ LIKE THEYRE COMJNG FROM A FUZZY DRUNK BURRITO LIX WHO IS LAYING IN BED UNDER A DUVET AND ALL SOFT AND SHOWERED AND SO FUCKEN PLIANT LIKE A SOFT KITTEN??!??!??! I - need grass I’m sorry to admit that I will avoid it till it’s necessary.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

Took twice the max dose of melatonin before the final revision for tomorrow’s exam, I’m shitting my pants and I genuinely don’t know anything as thoroughly as I should but if I sleep less than 4 hrs before it I just know I’m gonna do even worse somehow

[general-dweebous]

Attuma give me a chance