#not sure if this is what you were envisioning

[lalunanymph]

CAUGHT

☆° syp: caleb catches you jerking off and decides to try something new with you

☆° tw: caleb x fem!reader, masturbating, watching p0rn, suspension, improper use of evol, dom!caleb, unprotected sex, bondage, dirty talk, possessiveness, silly banter, kinda crack-ish at the end, brat taming-ish, 1.8k+ words

☆° dawn says: caleb's secret times affinity 85 has got me feeling some kinda way so i locked in for two hours and wrote this (shame)

Skyhaven is chilly, but under the sheets of your shared bed with Caleb, you’re sweating your ass off. 

It’s not like you to typically be this… well, desperate, but hey—ovulation week can tank even the most disciplined of girls. And you, for sure, aren’t the strongest when it comes to fighting back these primal urges. 

Your fingers make quick work under the bands of your sleep pants, and you’re huffing, panting as your eyes lock onto your phone screen, drinking in the sight of a woman passionately getting eaten out by her Dominant as she’s dangling from the ceiling in shibari. Look—not to yuck anyone’s yum, but you sure as hell didn’t think you’d find something like this hot. 

Caleb and you were still… finding your intimacy footing. He’s gentle and sweet in bed, always paying attention to your needs. He wouldn’t even come unless you were close, constantly edging himself so you two could fall down the precipice together.

Warm and kind, you could never envision him doing something like this to you. 

The woman moans through your wireless earbuds, her hair cascading in magnificent waves. Her Dom grunts, a mess between her thighs, his chin and cheeks slick with her juices. You can tell from how her belly is constricting rapidly that she’s close, and your body surges in a feverish pitch, trying to find your own peak.

When, suddenly, the blanket is yanked off your body and you’re looking right into the wide eyes of your boyfriend. 

Caleb stands, frozen, still in his Colonel uniform. He’s had a hard day—you can tell. He looks deprived of a few hours of sleep, and his shoulders are rigid.

But, the second he fixes his gaze on you, his jaw goes slack. In awe.

You quickly yank your hand out of your pants and remove your earbuds. But, this damn technology had it out for you. The second your wireless connection is disconnected, moans and slurps fill the awkward space between you and Caleb—definitely blowing your cover.

“Crap!” 

With a squeak, you hasten to switch off your phone, mortification washing over you in waves. You scramble to sit up, and as if you hadn’t been edging yourself to an explosive orgasm, you nervously chuckle, unaware of how Caleb’s eyes have darkened. 

“Pipsqueak…” His voice is low, fringed with curious suspicion. “What was that?” 

Before you can change the subject and claim that it’s nothing, the pull of gravity flicks your phone off the bed and into his hand. He knows your password by heart, like how you know his, and when the screen flickers to life, he huffs under his breath.

“So… this is what my naughty little girl gets up to when I’m not home, huh.”

His words send an unexpected thrill down your spine, but you’re too horrified to say anything else, your cheeks leeched off color. 

You stutter, “It’s not what you think—” But, he cuts you off, shaking his head. 

“Boo. Wrong. Means I’m not treating you right,” he chuckles, and tosses the phone back to you. “But, y’know what, I’ve always liked a little challenge, so maybe it’s time we took things… to another level.”

Curlicues of heat shiver down your body, and you throb hotly between your thighs. Stubbornness, however, would be your downfall when you scoff and try to play off the intensity building you two. “Caleb, you big dummy—I told you it was nothing—”

He grips your jaw, gently tilting your face up to meet his. 

For the past few minutes, you’ve been resolutely avoiding his gaze, afraid of what you might find there. But, when you tentatively slide your eyes to meet him, you’re not greeted by contempt or disgust as you originally thought. 

Caleb’s looking down at you with an inexplicable heat in his gaze. There’s a slight tremble in his fingers, though his expression remains deceptively calm. 

“Princess, come on.” His thumb strokes your lower lip. “When have I ever judged you, huh? I love you—” He sounds ardent. Sincere. “I love you and I would do anything you wanted. Anything at all.” 

A fissure of arousal snakes through your veins, lighting you up from head to toe. 

“... anything?” 

Caleb doesn’t hesitate to nod. “Anything.”

… 

Which is how you currently find yourself suspended in mid-air, at the mercy of his Evol. 

Caleb sticks true to the unholy scriptures found on your phone’s browser, on his knees, right between your thighs. 

He does that thing with his tongue you absolutely adore. You squirm in your gravitational bindings and he glances up at you, a glint in his eyes. Hoarsely, he rasps, “You’re so pretty, baby.”

His tongue digs back into your insides, and your warbling cry resounds throughout the room. Caleb’s not gonna stop—he’s gonna make sure the whole of Skyhaven hears you coming.

“Louder,” he growls, and he picks up the pace, slurpin’ down on your folds like it’s his last meal. Fast. Messy. He punctuates the rhythm of his laps with grunts of, “Pretty. So pretty.”

Your pliant body is for him to do as he pleases. Every touch. Every lick. Every caress. Caleb knows what he’s doing—how exactly to drive you wild. This feeling of power and control that comes down on him—it’s heady. 

Addictive.

You’re the sweetest addiction he can never get over. Your body, your sounds.

God, it drives him insane.

The sway of your hips as he bullies his tongue deep into the buttery heat of your arousal makes him grin, shark-like. 

“Enjoyin’ this, baby?” He pauses to whisper between laps. 

You’re unable to move in mid-air. The ends of your hair sway with every tremble of your body. You’re gasping, eyes-crossed, dumb on his tongue. He has your arms dangling at your sides, and maneuvers them over your head with his Evol to really hammer in your helplessness. 

“Pretty like a doll,” he groans, all lustful and thick. Drip, drip. The syrupy gloss of your juices saturate his tongue, and he moans at the taste, like honey and sunshine that comes straight from his favorite fountain. 

Oh, he has it down bad—

Caleb can’t think. Can’t focus past the ravenous hunger demolishing his composure, making him thirsty and hungry for only you. 

And, god do you taste divine. 

His Adam’s apple bulges down on a swallow as you feed him some of your squirt. “There ya go—” he growls, placing a quick smack! on your inner thigh. “Squirtin’ like the ripest peach f’me. Pretty little peach. My pretty—” he rolls his tongue over your folds, swirling it like a madman hellbent on pushing you down the last cliff of your sanity. “—pretty lil’ princess.” 

“Caleb!” Your meek cry doesn’t stop him.

“Nuh-uh,” he moans into the thick of your treacly folds, all swollen and puffy now from his ministrations. “S’not a safe word, baby.” 

You want to hold him. Pull his stupid face up and kiss him senseless.

But, he’s got all the ropes now. You’re just a puppet caught in his web. 

A marionette he can’t wait to fuck straight until she can’t walk.

“Did’cha think I would let you go after that lil’ stunt you pulled, princess?” His leering smirk disappears back between your thighs, the edges of his teeth grazing your trembling, defenseless clit. “Touchin’ yourself like I don’t please you every night—you wound me, baby.”

The raw possessiveness of it all makes you clench down on his devious tongue. Caleb is out for blood, and he won’t stop until he milks you dry. 

He slurs his stake right into the heart of your cunt, lapping at the pearly drops of pleasure oozing right down to the ground. “Anythin’ you want, I’d do it for you. Fuck you on the moon if you want.”

“Caleb—” you whine. 

You’re close—trembling violently. “Caleb, please—inside,” you gurgle. “Inside me, please!” 

He answers your prayers in a split second, cock pushing through your tight heat, up and down, up and down, stroking, thrusting…

He’s as keyed up as you are. The sloppy plap plap plaps of your bodies meeting together makes his pride soar and his balls clench. Caleb digs his fingers into your hips, watching your body undulate in thin air—like a ship rocked apart by a storm with only his cock as an anchor. 

The silver glint of his dog tag slams back onto his chest repeatedly. His abs are coated with a light layer of sweat and exertion. He’s sprinting you to the finish line, both of you keyed up beyond belief—he needs to see you shattering all over him like the finest China falling to the ground. 

“God, you look so good like this,” he licks his lips, dragging his tongue over a spot of pussy juice he missed, moaning when he tastes you again. “Hair all flowin’, body all taut. Imagine if I had you in ropes, baby,” he grunts, gunning for the sweet ending, digging the balls of his feet into the hardwood floor for maximum thrusting. “You’d be—hngnn—under my control.” 

His words snap the fragile crisp of self-control you’re holding onto. 

You come for him, loud and wholeheartedly, and the gusto makes his heart soar, his cock throb—

Warm spurts fill you to the brim, and your shackled-to-the-air legs tremble, your body trembling in zero gravity.

Caleb gnashes his teeth and whines like a mad dog coming down from his high, using the last of his strength to catch you as you both go tumbling to the floor like Lego pieces. 

For a second, the room swims in a pure haze of white light. You can’t feel your feet, or your hands. 

Shit—he’s fucked the soul out of you. 

But, in the ringing silence, you feel his hand gently cradle your head to his chest, and the wayward seed is back on her beloved apple tree. 

Caleb caresses your head, gently leaving kisses on your temple, cheeks, chin. Anywhere his mouth can reach. 

After a moment of silence, you reach for your phone and he raises a brow.

“Seriously? You’re not gonna make a Moments post right now, are ya, Pipsqueak?” 

You flop onto his chest, and rather than being tuckered out like he hoped you would be, you kick your feet up, giggling as you scroll through your phone. “Noooo. Got something else better in mind.” 

He nuzzles his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your custom-made shampoo you once DIY-ed with him at a fragrance fair. Your excitement re-sparks the flames again, and he chuckles when you excitedly show him your phone screen—showing off a new position where the bepenised specimen has his unimportant half lying down the side of the bed while his female counterpart hops up and down his more important half.

It looks easy enough, and Caleb is surprisingly limber for his size. 

“Supernova, huh?” He squints at the screen, looking deep in thought. “I guess it’s doable—”

You shake your head, tossing him a grin brimming with mischief.

“Oh. I’m not done yet.” You swipe the screen, and it’s an even more complicated position. He inwardly tries not to break. Caleb has indirectly created an insatiable monster.

“Have you ever tried this one~?” 

♡ feedback and reblogs are appreciated

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my works into AI.

[acourtofthought]

"Elain has no interest in Lucien"

But that's where the story lies, isn't it? Because you couldn't really say that in ACOWAR. She was a little salty towards him during their first meeting but she quickly followed that up with sharing a very emotional confession with him. Even though she was in love with Graysen and wanted to return to Graysen, she stared at Lucien on a few occasions. She made sure that she went to see him as he departed for the human lands / continent to search for Vassa. She chose to leave her father's grave to walk with both Feyre and Lucien, peering up at Lucien. She was standing close to Lucien at the meeting after the war and did not pull away. Elain only stared at him for a long moment. Before that dark wind sept in, Lucien looked back. Not to me, I realized - to someone behind me. Pale and thin, Elain stood atop the stairs. Their gazes locked and held. And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go...He did not glance back at Elain. Did not see the half step she took towards the stairs - as if she'd speak to him. Stop him. Letting my sisters decide to follow or remain - if they wanted a moment alone with that burnt grass. Elain came. Nesta stated. Elain fell into step beside me, peering at Lucien.

Lucien now stood in the sitting room, close to Elain's side.

Then...... Elain, at least, would be too polite to send Lucien away when he wanted to help. She was too polite to send him away on a normal day. She just ignored him or barely spoke to him until he got the hint and left. As far as I knew, he hadn't come within touching distance since the aftermath of that final battle. So in one book, we have Elain choosing to walk beside Lucien, peer up at Lucien, stand beside Lucien. And in the next, with absolutely no reason given as to why, we have Lucien no longer coming within touching distance of Elain (though he stood close to her after the war), and Elain now ignoring him. For a best selling author, it would be pretty poor writing for her to write them the way she did in ACOWAR then expect us to just accept this complete 180 with absolutely no reason given as to why that's happened and we're just supposed to move on with the story with no questions asked. The fact that there are still lingering questions as to what caused this abrupt change from the end of ACOWAR means there is still a story there. Readers still want to know why Elain suddenly began ignoring Lucien after ACOWAR left them on a positive / hopeful note. We saw something similar to happen between Nesta and Cassian, from ACOWAR to ACOFAS and we were given those answers in Nesta's book so I'm not sure why people would think anyone is delusional for thinking this best selling author is going to give readers the same resolution in Elain's book. The story has always been and will always be about Elain and Lucien's bond and the many ups and downs to a HEA. We had a little glimpse of that possibility in ACOWAR then Sarah snatched it away, which one can use logic to realize it's because she's only biding her time until she's ready to write Elain's story. Nesta's downward spiral was what kept she and Cassian apart in the novella until Sarah was ready to write their journey and for Elain she went the "I don't want a mate so I'll instead fixate on the only eligible guy in my orbit who isn't my mate!" route. But none of those obstacles were things that would prevent the end result Sarah always envisioned for these characters, and in Elain's case it's the fact that she took Sarah and Lucien by surprise by being the one for him.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

The voices from inside the office raise to an aggravated, insistent pitch 'n Pony flinches back in the hall, presses both his shoulder blades to the wall until his back aches.

Darry's low baritone rumbles out but Pony can catch the irritation, a low B note in the bottom of his voice. He sighs, drops his head down into his hands. He was dead. Actually, he was more than dead. Darry was gonna kill him, dig him up, 'n killl him again. Jesus Christ.

"I understand that but-"

"Mr. Curtis-" Darry's sittin' the closest to the door so Pony can distinctly hear the low, long breath he lets out in frustration.

Good, Pony thinks, smugly 'cause if Darry's gonna whoop his ass he should at least have to understand what Pony dealt with all the goddamn time.

"Mr. McCoy. I understand that Ponyboy-"

"Mr. Curtis. I don't believe you comprehend-" Pony can't see him but he can distinctly envision Darry grindin' his teeth together, poppin' his knuckles in that way he did when he was tryin' to get a hold of his temper.

Pony kicks his sneakers on the tile, fiddles with the zipper on his backpack. He didn't know what the hell he was here for. Sure, he'd gotten a shitty grade on his last math test 'n he'd skipped chem Tuesday. Maybe he'd smoked out the bathroom window 'n lost track of time 'n showed up late to gym. But those weren't call Darry on his day off offenses.

He especially didn't know why they'd gotten his goddamn English teach in on the little reunion. The guy seemed to have it out for him. There was no way he was here to sing Pony's praises.

That man had somethin' against Pony from the day he'd first met him. Pony scowls, kicks at the floor, calls the memory up in his mind since he didn't have anythin' better to do but wait for Darry to come kick his ass.

Pony hadn't even done anythin' really. Truly he hadn't. He'd been a little late, sure, but that hadn't been his fault. Steve had driven him to school 'n they didn't call that shitty old car a beater for no reason. Steve had kicked the thing three times (in three separate places) to get the thing goin'. But then the lady at the front desk wouldn't give him a note so he'd just had to show up late with no excuse. Sue him.

He'd expected to get the run-of-the-mill jab, gettin' shook down a lil' for interuptin', on the first day no less. He'd hustled down the hall as fast as he'd dared, cracked the door with anticipation sittin' heavy in the back of his throat.

When he'd gotten his class list he'd showed it to Soda so they could compare notes 'cause Soda had been swapped around to nearly every teacher 'n had the low down on every single one. Soda had pulled a face, jabbed a finger at his English teacher.

Watch out for that one.

Why? Darry had rolled his eyes 'n paused in fixin' dinner to glance over his shoulder at Soda. He actually make you do your work? Watch his test answer sheet too closely?

'N usually Soda would grin all wide 'n crooked but he'd gotten a real serious look on his face, darted his eyes around like he wasn't sure how to say it. Naw. But... he's got a real problem. With, like, greasers. It's McCoy, Dar.

He'd walked in late that day 'n his teacher had gotten this real nasty look on his face. Somethin' vindicated 'n high 'n mighty like all the worst folks at church Mama used to insist they went to. Like they just knew they were better than you. 'N there was nothin' you could do to change that.

Curtis, right? I should have known. Off to a bad start already. Pony had drug his toe across the floor, stared down at his shoes, mumbled out his apologies. He shifted to slip into the first empty seat he saw, not lookin' up anymore than he had to. The man's hand had shot out quick smart, wrapped around his bicep 'n jerked him to a stop. 'N then hissed out, all low so only Pony could hear, I should have expected it. It's the same with all you Curtis'.

"This isn't the first time Ponyboy has been called to the office for a similar issue-" Pony jerks back to the present moment, the voice still ringin' in his ears.

"No, it's not but as we've spoken about before-" Darry tries to cut in, gets barrelled right over.

"I hate to say, but perhaps it's time Ponyboy followed the path of his brother." Pony lets out a low, keenin' noise from somewhere deep in his chest. He'd know from the day he met the man that he didn't think nothin' good of him. But it still stung, sliced him clean through.

He should just hedge his bets 'n drop out. Go work in a gas station 'cause that's all he was worth. 'N it makes his blood boil, not only for himself but for Soda too.

A chair slams against the wall inside the office, jarrin' the door open so Pony can see through inside. Darry's on his feet, face red, fists clenched tight by his sides so the knuckles are white. When he speaks, his voice is low, tightly leashed.

"Let me make one thing clear."

...

Soda kicks his feet a lil', scrapes the toe of his sneakers across the tile 'n leaves a rubber mark. McCoy's runnin' his mouth down the list of crimes Soda's committed, startin' right up with simply bein' alive.

It's nothin' he hasn't heard before. Soda probably spent more time sittin' outside that office than he ever had sittin' in a class. He'd skipped again today, probably just one too many, 'specially 'cause he didn't have anywhere to go but loiterin' around under the bleachers 'til someone snapped him up 'n drug him inside.

He still hadn't figured out exactly why they'd insisted on callin' Dar in. Or why in God's name his fuckin' English teacher seemed to be headin' the stupid meetin'.

"I don't understand why I needed to come in today. No disrespect, meant. Soda in some kinda trouble?" Soda chuckles to himself. He was always in some kinda trouble. Darry should know that by now.

"I confess, I only called you in today on the request of Mr. McCoy." The principal finally gets a word in edgewise 'n he sounds tired. "I understand there's been some problems with Soda."

Problems was a goddamn understatement. Soda was used to teachers dislikin' him. That was fine by him. He tended to run his mouth 'n distract his classmates 'n forget the work. But it really wasn't his fault. Soda was just dumb. He wasn't like his brothers. He just didn't get it. 'N teachers just didn't have time for someone as stupid as he was.

But then he'd met his ninth-grade English teacher. Who didn't just dislike him. He seemed to hate him.

"I've had Soda in my class for the past couple months 'n I've seen little to no improvement from him." McCoy starts up 'n Soda wants to tune him out. He really does. But it's too quiet in the hall for him to focus on anythin' else. "He rarely does his work if he shows up at all."

Ouch. But nothin' he hasn't heard before. It didn't mean anythin'. He was just stupid. His teachers all knew it. It didn't bug him. Maybe if he tells himself that enough it'll stop achin'.

"I understand Soda's had some issues in school. But it's been tough on them both since-"

"Mr. Curtis, if I may." Soda cringes. Darry had his fair share of patience. Really he did. Whether Pony would agree or not. But he hated that. Bein' cut off. "I believe this goes beyond your recent circumstances. I simply do not think Sodapop has a further school career here."

He wasn't sayin'- he couldn't be. Soda's heart climbs up his throat like when he took the hills comin' home a lil' too fast, flips over 'n dives down to the pit of his stomach.

He should have known. 'Cause everyone else sure did. "I hate to say it, but I would suggest that pullin' him out may be the best for him."

The doors been easin' itself open for the last five minutes like it always did. Like the pressure in the office was just higher then anywhere else 'n all that energy had to escape somewhere. Soda could understand the feelin'.

When he looks over he can see Darry rise to his feet, face flushed 'n more angry than Soda had seen him in a long time. Or maybe ever. When he speaks his voice rocks a little on the gravelly rasp it takes to not shout.

...

"I can't understand what your prejudice is regardin' my family." Pony's on his feet, hoverin' just outside the doorway. He feels sick to his stomach.

...

"I didn't come in today to hear you're opinion on the intelligence of my brother. But while we're sharin'-" Soda's leanin' so far over in his chair the arms dig into his stomach painfully.

...

"I have had multiple issues with the way you've behaved towards Soda 'n Ponyboy. You continue to blame your inability to teach on your students." Darry's speakin' all low 'n slow 'n Pony knows he's pickin' his words real careful like.

...

"I'm tryin' to put this professionally. 'Cause I know you already look down on us 'n I don't want to give you the wrong impression. But simply-"

...

"Leave my boys alone. If I hear another thing about you speakin' down to another kid like some of the awful things I know you've told my brothers, losin' your job will be the least of your worries." Darry snaps his jacket off the chair, turns sharply on his heel, nods once to the principal. "Now. If you'll excuse me."

...

Darry turns 'n almost barrels straight over Soda. "C'mon, kid. We're leavin'." He's still hot under the collar, takin' long lopin' steps 'n damn near draggin' Soda along behind him.

"Jesus Christ, Soda. I knew he was bad but I didn't know he was that bad. Who the fuck does he think he is?" He's mutterin' to himself 'n haulin' Soda along all through the parkin' lot. It's not til he gets to the truck he finally stops to look Soda in the eye.

He's not cryin' per say. But he's embarrassin'ly close. Darry freezes, grabs him by the shoulders to get a better look at him. Soda tilts his head away, swipes at his eyes hastily, cues up a laugh in his throat to brush it off.

"What's wrong, Pepsi?" 'N the stupid nickname is just the cherry on top 'cause then he's pressed into Darry's chest 'n he opens his mouth 'n just lets it all slip out.

...

"Maybe he's right, Dar." Pony's got his foot kicked up on the seat, head restin' down on his knee as Darry drives them both home.

"Huh?" He damn near swerves off the road, whips his eyes off the windshield to get a look at his brother.

"I dunno. Don'cha think it's a little, I dunno, pointless? We can't afford college for me, right? Maybe it'd be better if I just dropped out like Soda." Darry tears over four lanes of traffic 'n into the first empty lot he comes up on, Pony white knucklin' the seat.

...

"Sodapop Curtis. I wouldn't ever let anyone else talk about you like that. I ain't about to listen to it from you. Understand?" Darry's got him all held up tight to his body, ear pressed to his chest 'n Soda can hear the steady thump thump thump beatin' on.

"But-"

"No buts. Listen to me. There's always gonna be someone tellin' you you aren't smart enough or good enough-"

...

"But it ain't true. You got places to go, kid. You're my brother. 'N if you ain't got anyone else in your corner-"

...

"You always got me."

[bbokicidal]

hello :3 i’m so obsessed with ur work. i can’t stop thinking about the aftermath of "What Happens When..." | [SKZ] OT8 | [I.N]. like what goes on in the bedroom after they left felix and reader alone in the bedroom 🙈 will u ever consider writing a little bit more about this? no pressure ofc i simply want to know what you envisioned when u wrote this fic hehe it’s my fav~

I'm going to share a secret with you;

I don't go into writing with a plan, LMAO. I just start writing and let my brain shitpost stuff onto a page and then go back to spruce it up a little with some fancy words and punctuation. I don't really brainstorm before I write the actual fic/headcanons/what have you.

I think I wrote that with the idea in mind that Felix and Reader both shared a spit kink, which is why he won the bet and got to have you as long as he wanted to himself.

And I'd like to imagine he'd probably fucked the reader til they were shaking, if they weren't already. Felix is definitely the type of guy to go all out and even though he looks soft and cuddly and cute (and he is) he's also the type to let loose and he absolutely has a more rough and greedy side to him in my opinion. (which is not a bad thing ofc.) So he probably fucked the reader til they were whining, whimpering. maybe not like.. brain-is-mush fucking, but can't-think-of-anything-other-than-his-name type fucking for sure. I also mentioned in the fic that he was going to pump the reader full of his cum before returning them to jeongin so that is absolutely what he did.

The type to shove his cum back into your hole when he's done because he hates the sight of it leaking out. He came inside you for a reason, leave that shit in there !! But I also think he's like... the type to get really worn down after sex. Like, chest heaving, panting hard, teary eyed, hair sticking to his jaw from sweat. Good lawd his washboard abs are probably glistening w/ how much he sweats when he fucks.

Anywho - that's a brief idea of what I think happened after the events of Innie's fic w/ Felix. A lot of ppl asked for part two or asked me what I envisioned and I ,, had no idea til now, so. Thanks! hahaha

[hathorneheiress]

Dangerous woman.

After a chaotic dinner with the Hawthornes, Lyra was ready to retire to her room for the night. It wasn't the that disliked her boyfriend's odd family, quite the opposite. But she had listened to enough riddles and weird cryptic talk to last her for a long time.

Sighing, she closed the door to her luxurious bedroom. Letting her lose, she slipped into a dark blue silk nightgown, it's neckline coming dangerously low. Good thing no one would be seeing her in this state.

A talented dancer, Lyra enjoyed listening to music often. Even though it wasn't her own room, the Hawthornes had allowed her to rearrange and add anything to it like it was. And one of those things was her own old record player with records.

She pulled one that held many different songs in one. "Demons" by Imagine Dragons came blasting through in no time.

What a fitting song, as everyone had demons, some more than others, she thought as she slowly walked toward the window. The full moon was out, and she wanted to admire it before bed.

As she glanced out the window, she caught sight of her boyfriend swimming in the crystal blue water below.

Grayson Hawthorne, grandson of the late, but by no means missed Tobias Hawthorne, not only was he one of the most beautiful men on the planet, but he was also her boyfriend, though Lyra still couldn't believe it was true.

They had been dating for a little over a year, but there was still so much more she still didn't know about him. Though if there was one thing she did know, was that he was still the biggest, but lovable asshole ever to live.

His pace never changed as she watched him. It was at that exact moment that the music changed. "Dangerous woman" came blaring through the room.

Don't need permission, made my decision to test my limits

Lyra let the words sink into her. Both her and Grayson had made decisions that not everyone would have approved of. But they didn't need anyone's permission either. They were grown adults, and they had pushed each other to the limits to many times to count.

I'm locked and loaded, completely focused, my mind is open.

All that you got, skin to skin, oh my God Don't you stop, boy.

Lyra's skin began to crawl as her face flushed with embarrassment. It wasn't hard to let the thoughts that she had controlled for so long come rushing out. How could watching her boyfriend swim feel so enchanting?

She didn't want him to stop as he swam with a grace like no other. Oh, those strong, powerful arms as they stroked the water like it was nothing. How many times had she imagined him wrapping them around her?! Holding her close and telling her she's his.

Somethin' 'bout you Makes me feel like a dangerous woman Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout Somethin' 'bout you Makes me wanna do things that I shouldn't Somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout

Lyra never had considered herself dangerous. Ruthless, sassy, and not afraid to say her thoughts? Definitely.

Nothin' to prove and I'm bulletproof and Know what I'm doing.

If only that true. When Lyra first met Grayson she had every reason to prove to him. That she was strong, better then him, that could beat him in anything. Both wore layers of bulletproof masks to protect themselves. But it became evident that both didn't know what they were doing and they were willing to become alley's and then that became more.

Now, with him by her side, she didn't have to prove herself. She was enough. He was enough.

Oh, yeah Somethin' 'bout you Makes me feel like a dangerous woman.

But man, music sure had a way of opening channels in your brain you never knew existed.

Maybe she should imagine everything she knew hadn't happened yet. All those sweet moments she envisioned but never thought possible.

Just then, Grayson came out of the pool.

You know how I'm feeling inside (somethin' 'bout, somethin' 'bout)

If only he did. They way his long, muscular, powerfully built legs came striding out of the pool. The water dancing around them, highlighting every vein. The way he elegantly shook his mane of thick blond hair. The way the water flew off. Just like out of a movie.

All girls wanna be like that.

Surely all girls have wanted this moment to happen to them. Watching this enchanting event happening before them, only wishing he knew that you were watching.

As if Fate decided to take hold of her predicament, Grayson looked up from where he was standing.

Well shit

Lyra's breath hitched in her throat. She couldn't run, not now. Not with him looking at her like that. And then he did something she had never seen before.

The bastard smiled at her.

(Yeah, there's somethin' 'bout you, boy)

Not a small smile. No, it was slow, sly. Almost coy even. For a brief moment she wondered if Jameson had switched into Grayson's body. But that was not the case.

Dammit.

Yup, she was doomed.

Tagging @lyrakanefanatic @ria-lina @goldi-1-graysons-version @i-too-enjoy-blog @riddles-n-games @reminiscentreader @cocomowgy

[layzfy]

CONNECTED - a late night call with yjw

SYNOPSIS:

wc. 1.7k+ fluff gn! reader — 심야 전화 after a first date with your childhood best friend yang jungwon, he decides that his time with you today isn't over after a phone call and makes his way over to you, like he always does. bookshelf

메모: might have some plot holes... wrote this in like 2 hours with a nesquik bowl in my hands so please excuse the abuse of commas and adjectives ... i'll edit this later

To be honest, Jungwon has been missing you like the warmth of a cozy blanket on a frosty night ever since he dropped you off at your house after your date about five hours ago. Despite his best efforts to mask his nerves during the evening, he knows how fortunate he is to have his childhood best friend—someone he has been in love with secretly for years—agree to go out with him, making him nervous to ruin that chance with a simple mistake.

Now, sprawled across his bed in soft, rumpled pajamas, a faint glow from his phone illuminates his face as he thinks back on the night. Memories of your soft hair dancing playfully in the breeze fill his mind, along with the enchanting sparkle in your eyes when he surprised you with your favorite snack from the store. Every time he made you laugh, he felt his heart thud with joy, each beat echoing a sweet reminder of what you mean to him. The thoughts swirl in his head like a maelstrom, driving him to the brink of madness.

He lets out a heavy sigh, flopping his arm onto the cool, inviting bed sheets while his phone dims in his grasp. He gazes up at the darkened ceiling, the dim moonlight spilling through the window and painting his room in soft, silvery hues. Should he dare to call you? Would it seem too forward? The night is still young, and given your unpredictable sleep habits, you might still be awake. The notion sends a wave of uncertainty crashing over him. It’s not like things would be different now just because they had been on a date, right? A mental pep talk ensues, reassuring him that he shouldn’t allow the nerves of a “silly date” to reign over him.

But then there's the undeniable fact that he is indeed nervous—his heart races, and his hands tremble slightly as he hovers his finger over your contact’s call button.

With determination, he finally presses the call button, catching a glimpse at the time ticking away at the top of his screen: 1:35 AM. Instant doubt creeps in; is it too late to call you? Would you even pick up? The ringing reverberates through the silence of his room, and a wave of frustration washes over him as he contemplates hanging up. What was he thinking? Surely, you wouldn’t answer at this hour.

Just as he prepares to surrender, he hears the soft rustle of movement on the other end.

“Hey, Wonnie…” you greet him in a hushed, sleepy voice, yet the warmth in your tone is unmistakable. “What’s up? It’s kinda late, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I know," Jungwon replies, forcing his voice to remain steady amid the anxious flutter in his chest. "I was just thinking about our date and how much fun I had.”

A soft giggle emanates from the phone, its sweetness washing over him. “Me too! I still can’t believe you bought me one of those ridiculously overpriced snacks.”

“Hey, seeing you smile like that? Totally worth it,” he retorts, unable to suppress the immense grin spreading across his face. "Besides, they were your favorites! How could I resist?"

The sound of you shuffling in your bed carries through the phone, igniting a slight flutter in his stomach. He envisions you all snug in your own bed, perhaps wrapped tightly in a warm blanket, the night wrapping around you in a calming embrace. “What are you up to now?” he asks, hoping to keep the warmth of the conversation glowing between you.

“Just trying to wind down, but honestly, my mind is still buzzing from all the fun,” you reply, your voice weaving through the cozy space of the call. “It’s hard to fall asleep after such a great night.”

Jungwon inhales deeply, the words flowing from his lips cautiously. “Same here… You know,” he hesitates, the moment tinged with a hint of nostalgia, “I’ve been really missing you since I dropped you off.”

A silent pause settles, and he wonders if he might have overstepped. But then you soften the moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been missing you too. I didn’t want the night to end.”

At that, Jungwon feels his heart swell with warmth, a rush of affection flooding through him. “Really? I thought I was being dramatic.”

“Not at all. I just… really enjoy being with you, Jungwon,” you confess, your words enveloping him like a soothing melody in the quiet between you.

His heart races, and he fidgets with the edge of his blanket, an idea bubbling up from somewhere deep within. “Uh… I have an idea, but you might not like it,” he says, uncertainty lacing his tone as nostalgic memories wash over him like a familiar tide.

“What is it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued, a hint of delight coloring your voice.

He takes another steadying breath as a familiar playfulness returns. “Remember how we used to sneak out and break into each other’s houses when we were kids? Just to hang out late at night?”

A soft laugh escapes you, and he can practically envision the mischievous smirk dancing on your lips. “Oh my god, how could I forget that? You were always the one climbing through my window!”

“Well,” he starts, his cheeks warming with excitement, “what if I sneak into your house now? Just like old times? We could hang out, talk, be a little reckless like we used to.”

A heartbeat of silence stretches between you, his anticipation mounting as you process the bold suggestion. “Are you serious?” Your tone brims with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. “What if my parents see you?” “Honestly, it’s worth the risk if I can spend some more time with you,” he replies, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"I don't know, Jungwon, it's really risky—" You were about to dive deeper into your concerns when his voice cut through your thoughts.

“Okay, I’ll be there in five!” His excitement was palpable, a rush of energy even through the phone. You could practically picture him shuffling around on the other end.

“Wait—Jungwon—” you started to protest, but by the time you glanced at your screen, the call was over. You sighed, staring at your lock screen in resignation. This guy was going to be the death of you someday.

You set your phone down on the bed and burrowed into your blanket, the warmth wrapping around you like a cozy cocoon. It almost lulled you to sleep, but you knew you had to stay awake to let him in. With a reluctant groan, you pushed yourself up.

Your heart raced as you slid out of bed, glancing out into the familiar street. Memories flooded back—the reason Jungwon had never gotten caught sneaking into your room when you were kids. Your houses were barely a block apart, making it easy for him to come and go undetected. Plus, your room was right next to a sturdy tree that served as his personal ladder.

Lost in nostalgia, you suddenly caught sight of bleached blond hair vaulting over your backyard fence. Jungwon scaled the tree with impressive agility, seemingly relishing the climb.

Quickly, you opened your window and couldn’t help but smile at his antics. He maneuvered through the branches with the confidence of someone who had practiced this for years.

“Hey…” you whispered, grinning as he landed on the branch beside your window. He mirrored your smile, his eyes dancing with mischief, and you stepped back to invite him in.

“Hey, I made it!” he said, trying—and failing—to sound casual as he scanned your room.

You chuckled softly at his giddy enthusiasm. “You’re insane, you know that?” Your voice was filled with excitement, despite the words.

“Well, I couldn’t miss hanging out with you,” he replied with a cheeky wink before effortlessly slipping inside. Without a second thought, he closed the window behind him and turned to you, arms wide open.

You stepped into his embrace, wrapping your arms around him, feeling the warmth radiating off his body. It felt so comforting, and you breathed in his familiar scent. “I missed you,” you murmured against his shoulder.

“Me too,” he replied, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze softening. “You look so cozy.”

“Because I am,” you admitted, a little shy. “I was winding down for bed, but now… I’m not so sure I can sleep.”

Jungwon chuckled and, without warning, took your hand, leading you to the bed. “How about we just hang out for a bit? You can tell me how tired you are while I take up all the space,” he teased, flopping dramatically onto your bed.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t contain a soft laugh as you settled next to him. “Okay, fine, but once I lay down, I might just fall asleep,” you warned, stretching out beside him. The bed felt too inviting against your will.

“Good thing I’m here to keep you awake!” he exclaimed, inching closer and propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. “You can’t sleep on me just yet.”

You tried to protest, but the weight of your eyelids was a betrayal. “Jungwon, I’m serious. I’m really sleepy,” you said, your voice softer now, almost dreamy.

He smiled indulgently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Then just close your eyes for a bit, but I’ll keep talking. I promise.”

With a small nod, you nestled your head against his shoulder, his warmth enveloping you like a safety blanket. The fabric of his pajamas brushed against your skin, a comfortable reminder of his presence.

A few minutes passed, and you felt yourself surrendering to the pull of sleep. Just as your eyelids grew heavy, Jungwon’s voice broke the peaceful silence. “You know, I wish I could freeze this moment forever.”

Surprise flickered within you as you looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, nights like this with you? They’re my favorite,” he confessed, and your heart swelled at his words. You opened your mouth to respond, but the heaviness of your eyelids was intoxicating, making it hard to stay awake so you just hum in response.

“Okay, fine. I guess I’ll just… close my eyes for a minute,” you mumbled, finally giving in to the soothing allure of sleep.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, and as you drifted off, you felt the comforting weight of his arm around you, holding you close, his fingers brushing through your hair making everything feel just right.

[ragnarockz]

Agnes clawing herself out of her clothes after Evanora visits

Ok, you heathens. Here we go.

This is a direct connection to This Prompt (in between Agnes running upstairs to the time she comes back down to the living room). It sits as a second continuation now to this Prompt.

TW of course for internalized homophobia and thoughts/actions of self-harm💔

They waited until the door unlocked and then closed; the house settling in silence. Vidal shifted her weight, about to turn but heard Agnes' voice,

"Don't. Not until I take this off..."

Vidal felt like she was dying inside, standing there unmoving as she heard noise behind her and knew it was Agnes rushing away, up those stairs and into their bedroom. She heard the heavy wooden door of their bedroom slam shut.

Agnes' skin was on fire; burning like a star in space.

Her skin was crawling; itching. A million pinpricks covered her and she couldn't swat them off, couldn't shake them away.

She felt like her body was scorching and freezing at the same time; unable to tell what her body wanted to do in this moment of heightened panic.

After she had made sure to slam and lock the bathroom door behind her; she stood there in the middle of the room and gasped for air. Hyperventilating would have been the nicest way to put what she was doing, how her body was reacting. It was almost like she was trying to get out whatever was inside of her; whatever was rotting away that made her awful. Whatever it was, made her feel incomplete.

The purple dress clung to her body, hugged her curves and made her sick to her stomach. It felt like the material was imprinted onto her, burnt right into her body like clothing would after the effects of a nuclear bomb. Patterns and memories forever stuck on your skin, unable to escape. Unable to let go.

Her hands flew down to the hem of the dress and she yanked up with all her might; she couldn't pull the fucking thing off fast enough.

She was frustrated; through hot tears that ran down her face and blurred her vision she tried to get the garment off over her head. The neckline caught her hair, pulling as it went.

She felt her eyes screw up, trying to see through the tears, trying to see through the white, hot rage that enveloped her.

How many times before this had she stood in a bathroom and pulled, ripped, tore dresses and skirts off of herself? Always feeling like those clothes were made of burning embers; scorching into her skin. Into herself. Into her person. They were reminders of who her mother wanted her to be, expected her to be. She hoped and prayed that those pieces of clothing would merge into Agnes; give her the satisfaction of becoming a 'proper' little girl; an even better 'controlled' young woman.

Agnes dry heaved as she threw the dress into the farthest corner of the bathroom. Dry heaving and screaming; her fingers remained bent at the knuckles. Clawed. She had clawed out of another fucking dress; another bad situation. She had torn away from another reminder of the prim and proper woman that her mother wanted her to be.

And she couldn't, wouldn't ever be that. Not with her messy hair, not with her sailor's mouth nor her sexual preference towards women. She denied anything that was the opposite of that. Couldn't picture herself in that fantasy world of fitting a picture of what her mother envisioned for her.

She gathered up her loose hair, scrounging around the countertop for an elastic to put it up. Once she did, she stared herself down in the mirror behind the vanity. She grabbed the corners, held on tight as she felt another wave of nausea rock her.

She stared up into her blue eyes; noticing the anger, the betrayal of herself, the disgust and the guilt that always poked its ugly head whenever she thought it had left for good. She wanted to claw at her face; scratch it up and make herself look ugly like she used to do as a child. You couldn't be an beautiful little girl in a dress with a ugly, scratched up face, could you?

She screamed at herself in the mirror; hearing it echo and then stop. Could Vidal hear her? Would she come running up the stairs and try to open the door? She waited, didn't hear anything and then took a breath. Vidal was giving her her space; something she could never thank the agent enough for doing. Sometimes,Agnes had told her, she needed to feel her emotions without anyone there to coddle her. Vidal had understood without question.

She stared and stared at herself until her eyes relaxed and her vision blurred and she let out another scream again; trying to pull at the edge of the countertop. Her hands slipped; felt a sharp pain in her right one as it nicked the edge. She swore loudly, slamming her hand down onto the countertop. She was sick of it; sick of it all.

She was so sick of feeling trapped; unable to come into her own. She was sick of still having to shove that fucking dress back into her closet and wait for it to be brought back out again.

She knew, as she turned her head to stare at the crumpled purple mass in the corner, that even if she did get rid of it, threw it out, donated it, fuck, even set it on fire, there would still be a single purple dress still stashed in the back of her closet. There was always going to be a reminder of that girl, of that teenager. She couldn't let her go; couldn't cut her off.

A loud sob fell from her mouth as she crouched down, squatting in front of the vanity now. Her hands shook as she brought them up to her face; pressing into her palms.

The image of holding Nicky for the first time flooded her mind; making her smile slightly through her sobs. She didn't think she could ever be that person, ever be a mother. It was so out of her realm of possibility that she almost didn't believe it herself when she found out she was pregnant. And then, as quickly as Nicky came into the world, she couldn't remember a time without him.

She wiped at her eyes; hands still shaking as she took a deep breath to soothe herself. She was hiccuping now; trying to settle her stomach and nerves. She realized them she had to go back downstairs; go back down and face Vidal. She didn't know what that meant but she knew she couldn't walk away from her, hole up and die without facing her.

She got herself up off of the floor; and headed to the shower. She didn't remember getting under the boiling water; couldn't remember soaping up and rinsing off. She for sure didn't grab a towel to dry herself, instead, she headed for the bathroom door, unlocked it and exited. She made her way to their bedroom and found her boxers, her track pants. A tee shirt that was way too big and way too old to even still be in her rotation. She put them all on and then grabbed for her favorite socks; dark grey and heavy as if she was ready to pull on her boots and shovel snow outside. She sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours; trying to calm her mind.

How much clawing could she do until her fingers were worn down to the bone; blunt and broken? How many times could she stuff that purple dress back into her closet and hope that it would never see the light of day again?

Heavy construction socks padded out of the room and down the stairs. She saw all of Vidal's stuff by the landing and smelled a faint scent of cleaning products. She caught sight of the agent, sitting in her familiar perch, head in her hand. She was asleep with a deep line of concern etched between her brows. Agnes realized she had never seen that before.

[tuttle-did-it]

Hmm. I don't practice death of the actor. You're welcome to it, great that that works for you.

I value the context actors (or writers, or whomever) bring to the projects for this reason. As far as I'm concerned, the Trek actors are far more interesting than most of their characters. Also, the few characters of Trek who DO have any growth at all are usually because the writers were bringing in traits from the actors themselves. The Doctor's annoying obsession with Opera, for example. Or how much Jadzia was changed because Terry played her with a playful and cheerful personality instead of the Yoda-like character they originally envisioned.

Or taking advantage of Kate Mulgrew's crazy resemblance to Kate Hepburn to give her more scenes where she is channelling a 1930s or 40s film star. Avery's insistence that he have emotional and important connections with Cirroc's character had a massive impact on DS9. Avery was in the position to demand this. When Gates asked for it, she was fired. And when they rehired her, she told them it was only if they give her more scenes with her kid.

If the production themselves are going to bring in aspects of the actors, going to bring in suggestions from the actors for their characters-- like Beltran's insistence on being paired with Borg Barbie-- then yeah, I'm going to bring in what they say, too. Because these aspects dramatically changed the shows.

The biggest problem with that and Trek is that the majority of Trek characters are pretty 2-dimensional. A few of the characters manage to become more-- but the vast majority of the characters are intentionally quite flat. They were intentionally designed so that it doesn't matter if you didn't see last week, you don't need to see last week because the characters are basically the same every week.

Even if they "go through something," there is very little call-back to their traumas and storylines. For the most part, whatever traumas they go through don't matter at all-- because next time you see them, they are still the same people. Nothing bothers them from their previous traumas unless it's in the script-- and it is very, very rarely in the script.

The exception is DS9 because the show had to show development and connection every week. And even then, there's not nearly as much connection there should be. O'Brien should be in an institution by the end of the series.

These shows rely on the charming and fun personalities of the ACTORS to shine through the very two-dimensional scripts. So the actors' positions on things, the way they feel about the characters, about the show, does, for me, certainly come in to play.

Disagree on Miles/Keiko - I don't think they're boring at all. First of all, I would argue that they are not heteronormative, because there is so much subtext with a polycule that I cannot see them as het, even though the writers clearly did. Kira and Bashir are in this polycule-- they literally wrote out Keiko for like 2+ seasons just so they could write more on the relationship between Bashir and O'Brien.

Second, I think they're certainly the most realistic Trek relationship in the entire franchise. Their problems are not solved in 44 minutes. They have fights, they have moments where they're not even sure if they can be with the other person, they have moments of jealousy, where they love each other but they don't like each other, where they talk things out, where things get built up because they didn't talk things out.

I never bought Troi/Riker, Picard/Crusher, Worf/Troi, etc. The only relationships (for the exception of Miles/Keiko), I buy on Star Trek at all are the ones that, as far as most Trek franchises, are the ones that are not canon- Quark/Odo, Bashir/Garak, Jazia/Kira, etc.

That's why I don't believe in the death of the actor or the death of the writers/producers/etc. As far as I'm concerned, any and all information about media is important. With death of the actor, we don't get Bashir/Garak because they don't have a canon confirmation of their relationship for 30 years-- and even that was an animated alt-world version. We don't get Spirk-- whether the actors ever meant to make it anything more, they did. We don't get Jadzia as playful, easy going. We don't get Quodo. We don't get Ben and Jake Sisko. We don't get Rom or Nog-- the actors did such a good job and brought so much more to their 2-d characters the writers brought them in more and more. I'm personally not a fan of Lwaxana Troi, but she is a fan favourite and without Majel being the lover and then later husband of Roddenberry, there is no Chappell, no Lwaxana. Hell- we don't even get O'Brien in the first place, because he was never supposed to be anyone important in TNG. He was a Red Shirt who refused to be one because COLM brought so much more to O'Brien.

Death of the Actor is fine. It's an absolutely fine way to look at things. But if you just look at the characters on the page, the vast majority of the entire Trek Franchise would be a completely different world without the actors bringing themselves into the roles, without the writers/production bringing in elements of the actors into the roles, and without that extra context. Sometimes it can go very well! Sometimes, we get the shithead transphobic homophobic racist MAGAt Robert Beltran pushing to snog Borg Barbie.

Does anyone remember that episode of Star Trek: Voyager where Tom Paris commits a traffic violation in alien space and he has to go to alien remedial driving school? I have no idea which episode it was, but it's such a great concept. There are so many episodes about high-stakes encounters with crazy alien legal systems where death is on the line, but I wanna see more alien planets with very mundane legal systems. I wanna see an episode where there's a big dramatic trial, and our heroes lose, but then find out that they have misunderstood what was going on and will simply have to do community service for a week or something.

[boy-oneder]

"This is the skin of a killer, Bella!"

For ✨ @helinyetille ✨ who wanted me to make a meme based on their post

[cerb-daily]

Cerb made entirely out of triangles please

day 54 - triangles

[moreaujeans]

IM FREEEEEE

[seilon]

you know I hate to use the term because it’s thrown around for unworthy candidates far too often but I can’t deny it jayce talis really truly is a disaster bisexual

[attila-werther]

sextus pompey-mark antony but not in a way that fixes anyone

[connorsui]

Hi! Can I ask for a Sylus fluff, where he gives the reader his bank card for her to go shopping, and he expects a bill to be at least $10,000, but all he sees is about $100. So he asks her if she bought everything she wanted, and she says something like "yeah, there were such good discounts, I didn't spend too much, did I?"

And man is just ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ GIRL GO SPEND MY MONEY I WANT TO SPOIL YOU

My beloved @lalaluch I cannot explain to you just how much fun this was to even imagine but let alone even WRITE 🩷 like I was losing my mind trying to bust out my Google docs to even make this. But my sickness was literally getting to me that all I could do was imagine--but anywhoo now that it's finally done I hope you all enjoy it ✨️

p.s: I hope this sickness finally leaves me because it be making me internally cry on the inside ...I pray for prayers lol 💅🏻

BUDGET QUEEN

It had taken weeks of gentle coaxing, half-joking remarks, and the occasional exasperated sigh before you’d reluctantly agreed. You had this stubborn streak, an insistence on independence that both irritated and fascinated him. But today, you’d finally caved.

“You’ll take it,” Sylus had said that morning, slipping the sleek card into your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “No arguments. No excuses.”

You had sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But I’m not going crazy with it?!”

He had only smirked, knowing full well you would—and knowing full well that he wanted you to.

And now, hours later, he awaited the results.

Sylus leaned back in his leather chair, his crimson eyes flicking lazily over the documents cluttering his desk. A rare break in his usual chaos had him sipping on his usual drink, savoring the brief quiet. That was until his phone buzzed. He set his glass down and checked the notification, a message from his bank popping up.

He expected it—he wanted it. You had finally caved to his insistence after a literal month of convincing and taken his black card to go shopping. He’d envisioned the inevitable message all morning, something like:

One-hundred million spent at Celine and The Row’s combined?

Or perhaps?

Fifty million at Loro Piana?

You’d mentioned their beauty and elegance more than once.

Nevertheless, the man wanted indulgence, excess—you deserved it, after all.

Instead, the message read:

$157.45 at… Assorted Stores.

Sylus stared at the screen, unblinking. Surely, this was a mistake. He refreshed his balance multiple times. Same amount. He checked for pending transactions. None.

“…What?” he muttered, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. He slammed his phone down, crossing his arms as he waited for you to return.

Minutes later, the front door opened, and you walked in, humming happily, two bags dangling from your arms. You looked utterly content, your warm smile sending a pang through Sylus’s chest. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had questions.

“You’re back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe to his study, watching you set the bags down in the living room. His towering presence cast a shadow over you, his white hair catching the light, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

“Yup!” you chirped, rifling through the bags. “You wouldn’t believe the deals I found today! It’s like the universe knew I had your card!”

Sylus squinted. “Deals?”

“Yeah! Everything was on sale! I even had coupons for some things. Oh, and this boutique downtown was having a clearance event! It was amazing!” You beamed at him, oblivious to his growing disbelief.

“Clearance? ..…How much did you spend?” he asked, his voice neutral. Too neutral.

“Um…” You frowned, pulling your phone out to check. “About a few hundred, I think? Oh, wait—like one-fifty! I didn’t spend too much, did I?” You tilted your head, as if genuinely concerned.

Sylus stared at you, his expression shifting to one of incredulous disbelief. His red eyes seemed to glow, and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was the look of a man deeply offended. Not by you—but by the principle.

“…That’s it?” he asked, his voice sharp but measured, as if he were trying to comprehend an alien concept. “One-fifty?”

You blinked up at him, a little confused by his tone. “Well, yes… I mean, I didn’t want to waste your money—”

“Waste my—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his snowy hair. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “do you have any idea why I gave you my card?”

“To… buy some stuff?” you offered, suddenly feeling like you were missing something obvious.

“To spoil you,” he emphasized, stepping closer. “To treat you like the queen you are. To shower you in luxury. And you—” He gestured to the modest shopping bags on the floor, his voice taking on a dramatic edge. “—come back with clearance items?”

Your cheeks flushed. “But… I didn’t need anything expensive! I found good deals, and I thought—”

“No.” Sylus leaned down slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “Listen to me, love. I don’t care about the price tag. I want you to have the best. The fact that you’re this thoughtful is adorable—don’t get me wrong—but next time…” He paused, his voice dropping into a softer, more commanding tone. “…I want to see receipts that would make the average person cry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He straightened, towering over you again, his arms crossing. “Do you know how much money I make? How much I’ve set aside specifically to spoil you?”

“I can guess?…”

“Clearly not if you’re spending less than a casual dinner out on everything.” His voice was calm, but laced with unmistakable disapproval.

Then, with a breath, he softened—only slightly. “I just want to see you dressed in diamonds,” he corrected, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “To watch you slip into golden heels that make you shine like the goddess you are. To drape you in silk and velvet, to see you standing before me in a dress that costs more than a car and still doesn’t compare to your worth.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden weight in his words.

“I gave you my card,” he continued, voice lower now, intimate, “because I want you to indulge. To spoil yourself the way I ache to spoil you. Because you deserve to walk into a store and not think—just watch and admire”

Your throat went dry.

He lifted his hand, fingers brushing over your wrist before tracing upward, his touch featherlight against your skin. “I want to see you try on jewelry without looking at the price tag,” he murmured. “I want to sit back and watch as a saleswoman fumbles to put a necklace around your throat because her hands are shaking too much from the sheer amount of wealth wrapped around you.”

His gaze dipped lower, lingering on your frame as he exhaled through his nose. “And instead… you bring me deals?”

Your heart pounded, a mix of amusement and something else entirely stirring in your chest. “I didn’t think I needed to spend that much—”

“You don’t need to,” he interrupted, thumb ghosting over your jawline. His voice was softer now, but no less commanding. “But I want you to.”

Your face heated.

“Next time, I’m going with you.”

“What, to make sure I spend enough?” you teased.

“Yes,” he said, dead serious. “And to carry your bags. And to remind you that you can have whatever you want.” His red eyes softened slightly, and he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “All I want is to see you happy. No discounts required.”

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth blooming in your chest. “Okay, fine. Next time, I’ll go a little crazier. Maybe five million?” you joked.

Sylus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You laughed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“And you’re too frugal for your own good,” he shot back, pulling you into his arms. His voice softened, turning almost playful. “But I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to spend properly.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said, grinning against his chest.

Sylus sighed, resting his chin atop your head. As much as he wanted to spoil you senseless, he couldn’t help but love your thoughtful, practical side. It was part of what made you you—and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Still, next time… he was definitely making sure you left the store with at least an entire closet filled with designer bags.

For his sanity—and yours.

[fawnindawn]

Jason Todd is sure he's never met someone as good as you.

In a city as vile as the one he crawled out of, he's gotten near bullseye on the portfolios he makes for every single bastard that breaths and sins in this city. He thinks he's got it narrowed down, and he's all but decided that there isn't a single living person he will ever let his guard down for again- till he meets you.

Technically, you've all but forced yourself into his world. He thinks it's a cruel joke sometimes, how the world forced everything he had out of him, forcing him to forget how to love, how to treat every word as just that and not an underlying threat, how to have a proper relationship with anyone- before they tossed you into his path. Like a whirlwind, it was impossible not to grasp onto you when you were so good, so unlike anything in him.

"I want to be so good for you, baby." He breathes into your skin, wrapping you into his arms and holding onto you, hoping that if he somehow engraves his promise into this moment, he'll hold it forever.

"But you already are." Then, you look at him with that look of yours that reminds him that he's still alive, because his heart near leaps out of his body to land right into your palm. You treat him with such tenderness he couldn't have even envisioned in his dreams. You're nothing he could've come up with. When he looks into his own reflection, he thinks he sees what everyone sees. A failure of a project trying to make some good in this world even when he has nothing good in him. A madman trying to fix what can't be fixed, whether that be the city or himself. Then he looks into your eyes, and he can't see all that through the adoration so evident in your gaze.

Sometimes, you look at him and he thinks that if anything he knows about love, it's all just you. What is love, if not the utter devotion that runs through his blood, night after night where he cleanses the city, knowing that the very next night, some other thug or crook will replace the one he's gotten rid of. It's a never ending process that seems to see no end, but when he comes home to you, and oh god, does the idea of going to a home with you in it push him through everything.

He still struggles to word it, how your existence seems to shatter every concept he's had of the world, how he's never felt hope the way he's had since he started daydreaming about a future with you. He doesn't think the simple word, love, can capture what he sees, thinks, and feels about you. You're everywhere in his fractured mind.

The long-minute hugs standing in the kitchen, the way he goes silent when you rant about your latest discovery on the internet because he's hit with the sudden thought that he's here with you and you exist, the kisses he presses on the indent near your shoulder as he presses himself into that very spot, the way he always finds his way back home to you no matter what because he refuses to leave you afraid and waiting for him to come home. He'll always come home to you, because you are his home.

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Yoongi Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2

Series

In the Margins (a s f) by @bonvoyagenoona ⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.

Fix You (f a) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?

desolate (a f s) by @angelicyoongie ⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.

One Shots

Set Me Free (a f) by @casuallyimagining ⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?

back-burner (a f s) by @yoonpobs ⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

Love Language (a s f) by @gukslut ⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.

27 Phone Numbers (f) by @bxebxee ⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school. 

sweetner (f s) by @taegularities ⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.

One Chance (f) by @out-of-jams ⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.

Seasons Change (a s) by @taetaesbaebaepsae ⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.

All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) by @daechwitatamic ⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Now We Reign (a s f) by @oddinary4bts ⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

take five (a f) by @jiminrings ⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.

The Final - Day 02 (s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?

hello soulmate (f) by @bluemari23 ⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned

Sugar Rush Ride (s) by @lo1k-diamonds ⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

fuck being friends (a f s) by @strawberrynamjoon ⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.

Take One (s f) by @untaemedqueen ⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word. 

Illicit Favors (f s) by @yoongiofmine ⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.

Bet On It (s) by @minisugakoobies ⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?

subscribed (s f) by @aquagustd ⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?