#power-couple moments from 2023

[mxigo]

i remember everything (wish i didn't, but i do) | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: logan saved the timeline, but the consequence is that he doesn't remember anything after 1973. now back in 2023, he has missed 50 years of history. including any history of your relationship with him.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.02k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

“Well, Logan, I guess it would be a bit more efficient if I were to just show you.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, and Logan felt the presence of his telepathy around his mind, waiting just on the edge. He stood straight before giving a single nod, letting his mind relax around the gentle intrusion.

In an instant, the past fifty years that had changed flooded his mind. The sentinel program never happened, and human attitude towards mutants changed for the better. Jean got the help that she needed early on to completely control her powers, which also meant that she was able to safely get herself and the jet out of Alkali Lake when the dam burst. She never killed Scott, and never joined Magneto when she was consumed by Dark Phoenix. So, Logan never had to kill her. The school was still here, and mutants were, for the most part, able to live peacefully.

Although, there was a blip of a memory that had him stumbling back from Xavier’s desk in shock, the professor slipping from his mind. His mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what he saw.

“Now, Logan—”

“Wh-Who was that? How long ago was that memory?”

Xavier sighed. “Her name is Y/N, but she goes by Halo in the field. The memory that I just showed you happened just a week ago before she left for the mission that she is currently on in Texas.”

A beat passed as the memory played out in Logan’s mind again. It was from Xavier’s eyes, but he could see clearly how he had his hands resting on the hips of a woman he had never seen before, but she was dressed up in an X-Man suit, and he looked at her with such warmth and tenderness. She was also holding onto his biceps as they made their goodbye in the jet’s hangar, but before she stepped away, Logan had tilted her head up for a kiss.

“Is she, I mean, are we—”

“You and Halo have been together for the past four years. If I recall correctly, it was actually you who made the first move, Logan.”

Logan’s head snapped over to Xavier, his eyes wide in disbelief. His vision blurred as he unfocused for just a moment, trying to grasp on this bomb of information. Five years he had spent with a woman that he has no recollection of spending time with, let alone having feelings for, while at the same time he just saw Jean in the flesh and every feeling that he had harbored years ago came rushing back, still as fresh as that very first day.

His mind flickered back to Xavier’s memory, and he knew that the way he looked at her was different than he had ever looked at Jean, but those feelings for this other woman was nonexistent.

Charles sighed. “I understand this is a predicament, and obviously, there is no way for me to just erase old memories and force you to experience the new ones. She and Colossus aren’t due back for a couple more days, but I’ll make sure to speak to Halo once she returns. Please feel free to use the empty room at the end of the same hall should you feel the need for it.”

And just like that, Xavier just rolled out of his office, leaving Logan to deal. He didn’t linger in the office. Instead, he made his way back up to the room that he woke up in, pushing the door open. Now with the urgency to see if he had changed the past gone, he took the time to really take in the room.

The first thing he noticed were the picture frames lined up on the dresser, each one displaying photos of Halo, him, or both. As he walked further into the room, he saw that one of the nightstands had items that would belong to a female, such as hair ties, a tube of fruity chapstick, and some jewelry pieces. The other was nearly spotless, save for a watch and a book titled A Game of Thrones. As he took a deep breath, he picked up a scent that smelled like his own, but it was intermingled with another softer scent, one of vanilla and lavender. There was even an incense holder on the dresser.

The adjoining bathroom was more of the same; feminine haircare products that smelled like the woman’s scent in the bedroom along with a tower of various makeup items in the corner of the sink counter.

He went back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, letting his head drop into his hands as he tried to make sense of his new present. When he volunteered to go back to ’73, he didn’t consider that there would be more personal changes to his life. Yes, he was ecstatic that Jean and Scott were alive, and that the school was still here, but now he was stuck in a timeline where he was seriously involved with someone that he had never met before.

Besides, that was this Logan’s life, not his. He still had all of his memories from the previous timeline. He was sure he was a completely different person from this one’s. She may not even like this Logan. He may not even like her.

~

You groaned as you walked up the stairs leading to the bedrooms floor. All of the aches and pains of the mission finally made themselves known as you pushed yourself up each step, causing a slight limp in your cramped legs. You were thankful the mission was over and couldn’t wait to sleep in your own bed. While it was by no means a very long mission, any mission away from Logan felt like an eternity.

Piotr climbed the steps next to you, completely unfazed and unharmed from the mission.

“What do you think they have whipped up in the kitchen for tonight?” he asked as you both reached the top of the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. Logan and I always go for Mexican when we get back from missions. There’s a frozen strawberry margarita and a bowl of queso calling my name from Louie’s,” you answered, tilting your head up and gave a large, excited grin.

It was tradition after four years, and there was nothing that was going to stand between you and that queso.

“Sounds like you might love Mexican more than Logan.”

“It’s a tight race,” you giggled, meandering down the hallway towards your room. “I’ll see you later Piotr.”

The X-Man dipped his head in farewell as he continued down the hallway towards his own room, disappearing around the corner. With a sigh, you turned the knob on your door, pushing it open. You were only able to take a single step inside before you saw a figure out of the corner of your eye in the dark. With a flick of your fingers, you sent a ball of light at whoever it was, stopping it right in front of their face.

“Halo, welcome back. I hope the mission went smoothly.”

“Professor,” you gasped, immediately flicking on the bedroom light. “You scared me.”

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You stepped further into the room, brushing hair out of your eyes as you began taking the first pieces off your suit. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

Xavier rolled over from his corner of your room, stopping just behind you.

“I’m afraid something has happened that affects you, Halo. You may want to take a seat.”

You look at him weirdly, anxiety starting to settle in your stomach. He gestured towards the bed, to which you complied and sat on, letting yourself lean forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You tried to recall if anything was amiss on your walk up from the hangar from the jet, but you couldn’t recall anything, and not even Piotr was disturbed by anything.

“Is everything okay? Is everyone okay?”

The professor’s face turned grim for a moment before taking a breath.

“To even begin to tell you about what has happened today, I need to tell you about what happened fifty years ago in 1973,” he started. “In my youth, I was a different man, an angry, sad man. For some time, I had closed the school and subjected myself to pity and a downward spiral of hate towards myself. Hank was the only friend I had, and he stayed with me here at the mansion. Until one day, Logan came and practically burst through the front doors, demanding to talk to me.

“He claimed that he was sent back in time to find me, and to change the future, or rather, his consciousness was sent back in time to his then current body. I didn’t believe him at first. It wasn’t until I’d looked into his mind later that he was telling the truth, and there was a horrible future that awaited the world if I didn’t help this man. If I didn’t help break Magneto out of prison and help stop Mystique from killing Trask, then mutantkind would cease to exist. While we did save the world, we also changed the future to what it is now, and the Logan that I met in 1973 was sent from the old future of what would have been today’s date.”

Your heart was thundering in your ears, not believing what you were hearing, but you couldn’t move. Something happened to Logan.

“Well, nothing exactly happened to Logan, dear. But our Logan that we have known since the beginning, is the same Logan that I met in 1973.”

You shook your head, not understanding. “What do you mean, Professor, if nothing has actually happened to him?”

“Halo, Logan does not remember anything since that day in DC in 1973.”

Your world stopped, and your brain froze. “What?”

“Logan has no recollection of anything from our current timeline. In his past, Jean and Scott are dead, the school and the country had been obliterated, and you, my dear, he never met.”

You took a stuttering breath as your throat began to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. You looked around the room frantically, searching for something you didn’t know what. The picture frames of the two of you stared hauntingly from the dresser now, and your heart shattered further.

“You-you mean that Logan doesn’t know who I am, at all?” you all but whispered, a stray tear dripping down your cheek.

“He does now, after I showed him what he has missed, but just showing him memories from the outside doesn’t erase his memories from his old past. I’m sorry.”

“So, what do I do now? Just forget everything and pretend that the last six years that I’ve known him just don’t exist anymore?”

“What your next steps are, are up to you, my dear. I would suggest potentially talking to Logan, once you are ready to see him, of course. He may be different, but he is still Logan.”

“But he’s not my Logan,” you whispered, before the dam broke. Gut wrenching sobs ripped from your chest, forcing you to curl in on yourself in front of the last person that you wanted to see you like this.

In a flurry to protect yourself, you rushed past Xavier and into the bathroom, slamming the door. Slowly, you slid down the door and wrapped your arms around yourself, letting the grief take over.

Unbidding, every memory of Logan played through your mind. The first day was when Jean brought you to the mansion, and the first person to officially meet you was him, all cold exterior, but you could see the soft looks that he gave to his friends and the other X-Men. Ultimately, your thoughts ended just over a week ago when he bid you goodbye before your mission. You could still feel his hands holding your waist and the kiss he gave you before the jet took you away.

And you may never have that again.

[folkloresthings]

❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track three: you’re just a boy (and i’m kinda the man)

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

… OCTOBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. october second.

liked by irisapatow, rachelzegler and 810,673 more

yourusername time for another track! 🤡 i first started writing you're just a boy (and i'm kinda the man) after listening non-stop to taylor swift and shania twain and i decided what i really needed was to take those feelings and make a female power song of my own. so i wrote one! it helped me to remember that losing the love of a man does not make you any less of a person, and i hope it can do the same for others. oh, and it's also a bop.

view all 499,020 comments

user QUEEN

taylorswift you're kinda making me feel like... i'm the man 💪👸

user i fear this will tear lando's ego to shreds

⤷ user it doesn't feel fair on him, like he doesn't get to tell his side of the story

⤷ user girl there's definitely a reason he's kept quiet 😭

lissiemackintosh soooo excited for this one!!!! my new karaoke song?

⤷ yourusername come at do it at the concerts

⤷ lissiemackintosh i like your fans too much to do that to them

user CLOWN LANDO ERA

REWIND... OCTOBER 2022

"guess what, guess what!"

lando was mid-game when you rushed into the living room, glancing up from the television when you bound into view. he slips back one side of his headphones, eyes following suit a few moments later once the screen is paused.

“what?”

“guess!”

lando sighs, but a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “lewis finally retired?”

“no, silly.” scoffing, you slap at his arm and plonk down next to him on the couch. “management just called — i’ve been asked if i want to do a world stadium tour. the bowl, wembley, madison square garden!”

lando’s mouth fell open in slight shock, your excitement obviously contagious as his eyes light up. in a split second he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

“holy shit, babe,” he murmurs, squeezing your waist.

“i know,” you squeal quietly, muffled against his shoulder. “they just need to set up the next album release and then announce the dates.”

behind your embrace, the cogs of lando’s head start to turn and calculate the information. sitting back, he looks at you with confusion set in his brow.

“when would that be?” he asks, head tilted.

you shrug, not noticing his growing resentment of the news. “depends. they want the album done for late summer, so that means an autumn release. so probably in the new year.”

“the second half of the season?”

lando’s cold tone makes you smile, almost uncomfortably, waiting for his former excitement to return. uneasily, you nod.

“well, yeah, but—”

“i thought you said you were going to come to all the races, since you’ve only been to monaco and silverstone this season?” he cuts you off. you catch the frustration in his eyes like a hawk, shifting off of his lap before it bubbles over. “you’re not going to be able to do that if you’re on tour.”

“that’s not true,” you try and reason, hopeful that your calm tone might balance his. “there’s texas and vegas. besides, i don’t even know what dates i’ll have shows yet, i could fly in for race days.”

lando shakes his head, pushing himself from the couch cushions and onto his feet. “that’s not the point. you promised you’d be there for me this season. i actually have a chance for once, and you don’t even care.”

the dismissive tone that spits off his tongue makes you flinch, a heavy frown falling around your cheeks. “what am i supposed to do? turn down my biggest tour yet to come watch you race every single week?”

“yes!” lando exclaims, turning sharply. “that’s what good girlfriends do — look at kika and lily!”

anger pricks at your eyes and throat, swallowing hard to keep it at bay. “you haven’t been to one of my shows in months. you don’t even have time to listen to demos when i ask you to. there are two of us in this relationship, lando. it isn’t always about you.”

you see his defence ready behind his lips but you’re quicker, ready before he can speak.

“i went to every single race last season,” you tell him. your tone is calm, steady — making the words even more intense. “every one. i have been your biggest fan since day one. so don’t ever, ever, say i’m being selfish.”

lost for words, lando stares at you. only because he knows it’s true does he halt his argument there, turning and storming into the bedroom to preserve some dignity. you stare at the slamming door and wonder how he can watch on so easily as you slip through his fingers, and not want to do anything at all?

INSTAGRAM. november twenty—fourth.

liked by danielricciardo, maxfewtrell and 928,244 others

yourusername always your #1 fan (even when you dnf) 🫶

view all 630,737 comments

carlossainz55 did he get a lollipop for being a good patient?

⤷ yourusername and a sticker 😄😄

user poor lando

landonorris my favourite nurse ❤️

user they’re sooooo cute

user that crash looked bad

yourusername dw guys i’m giving him lots of kisses and rubs better !!!!!

⤷ landonorris not as many as i’d like 😏

⤷ yourusername you’ve got a hello kitty plaster on your head you cannot be seductive right now

"oh, shit."

the fight that dreaded evening had hung over both you and lando for weeks, both of you much too stubborn to admit to any wrongdoing or, god forbid, apologise. but you carried on. if anything it was worse than not speaking. it was like nothing had happened, as if the conversation never even happened, as long as neither one of you mentioned it. still, there was a tension holding you at arms length from each other.

so to not bring up the same argument again, you followed lando to the next few races. come vegas, you had given yourself so much time to think about things and the way lando had handled it all that your mind was screaming at you to leave. to book a flight home, pack up your stuff and go. because how much more of this could you take? you weren't the trophy girlfriend, the wag whose only job was to look pretty beside her accomplished boyfriend.

you would do it after vegas, you decided. there was a few days off; time for you to talk to lando and explain your feelings, before walking out with your head held high just in time for the next race. then, the worst happened.

chatting idly to lily, the race only just beginning, you almost missed it. for a moment, you thought it was oscar spinning out. the bright orange sparks masked which number was painted onto the car, spinning drastically until the nose of the vehicle slammed into the barriers. lily grasped your arm, her sympathetic eyes making you look twice. number four, lando.

in a daze, you followed the one of the marshalls through the busy paddock until you reached the ambulance area. he had already been loaded in, paramedics and mclaren employees surrounding him. there wasn't enough room, they needed to go now.

"hop in, i'll drive you," charlotte's gentle voice appeared beside you, guiding you into the car as the ambulance hurried off. "they said he's probably fine, they just want to do the usual checks."

you nod, trusting her. you could always trust charlotte, right?

after what felt like hours, you arrived to the hospital and didn't think twice about elbowing every single person out of your way until you reached lando's room. he was laid still on the bed, eyes watching the small television in the corner. his leg was strapped up, an iv stuck into his arm, various bruises littering his skin and face. he looked up when he heard you, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"it looks worse than it is," he assured you, noticing the panic in your eyes straight away. you breathe out some of the relief, the rest coming in a sudden pool of tears. "hey - hey, c'mere."

lando outstretches the arm that doesn't hurt like a bitch, ushering you to his side. you don't hesitate, lip wobbling as you hurry over and perch yourself on the side of the bed. tucked into his shoulder, you nuzzle as closely as you can without hurting him.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," you mumble, and you both know just what you're apologising for. what was a stupid fight worth when chalked up to all of this?

"me too," lando replies quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

sitting back, you look over his face. a small scratch from the helmet, just above his cheekbone. his eyes are drooping, tired from the impact and the drugs. you sniffle and smile sadly, thumb brushing over the wound.

"i'm going to move the tour," you tell him, and note that he doesn't protest. "if i'm on the other side of the world and something happens, i—”

lando shakes his head, cutting you off with a kiss. "nothing's going to happen. i'm still in one piece, aren't i?"

you hesitate, then nod, letting him shift over so you can lay next to him. resting your head on his chest, both of you quietly watching the rest of the race, you feel your head spin. maybe he had been losing you, but could you survive losing him?

writers note: we're back baby. lando count yr days my man

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @bingussthirdtoe @destinyg237 @theonottsbxtch @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

[manias-wordcount]

Four's a Party (Chrollo Lucilfer, Hisoka Morow, Illumi Zoldyck)

Kinktober 2023 Day Ten: Foursome

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

They’re not the most dynamic trio.

  Oh sure. They’re all very powerful. You wouldn’t want to know that Illumi Zoldyck had your name and place of residency memorized for any other reason besides the fact that you gave it to him. You wouldn’t want to be caught dead with something- anything that Chrollo might want for himself. And to be the object of Hisoka’s attention- even for a moment- is like placing your hand into Death’s all by your own free will. Together, they’re even more deadly. Even more of something to be afraid of. 

  But you also wouldn’t have called them the best of friends. People who would go out of their way to check in on each other. To do something fun together. That wasn’t them. In fact, you always saw them for what was beneath their surfaces. The sizing of each other up. The cockiness and arrogance with each word spoken to each other. The quiet rivalry that existed no what day or time or year or place. And so it doesn’t surprise that when they come together, that tension still sits in whatever room they’re in. Getting thicker and thicker and thicker. Making it hard for people like you to breathe. But what does surprise you is that sometimes, the tension is no longer quiet. The tension can become more than just “jokingly” throwing a pin needle in the direction of someone’s eye with the excuse of “I knew you would dodge it.” And sometimes, the tension can involve you. 

  Or rather, it can involve three pairs of hands running all over you as they urge you to say one name louder than the rest. His name.

  Whoever that may be in the moment. Though rarely a moment goes by when you’re around, and all three of them aren’t vying for your attention. Some moments it’s more subtle. Like touches to your shoulder and hands around your waist. Sometimes it’s more bold. Like requests for kisses and flowers when you least expect them. And sometimes? And sometimes it’s dirty, filthy, and sinful.

  Sometimes it’s spending the night on the floor of a fancy hotel. Sucking off one man while another laps at your cunt like a starving, dying man- hoping that the one person with their cock stuffed inside your ass isn’t the one who’s making you cry out and squirm so sweetly like that.

  “Deeper, sweetheart.” Chrollo hums from above you, a little to your side. Through fluttering lashes and eyes starting to tear up, you can see the almost warm smile he gives you. Just you. And it’s the slightest bit comforting- just like the way he cups your jaw with one hand and holds your hair back with the other as you do your best to swallow as much of his dick as your throat lets you. But he’s hard and he’s thick and he's long and there’s so much happening to you right now that it makes it hard for you to do just about anything right. But Chrollo is kind to you. Chrollo is gentle with you. Sweet on you. So he’ll opt for saying a few encouraging words and shoving it in deeper himself. While you’re in between breaths of course. “...that’s it, there you go.”

  You start choking almost instantly, as Chrollo manages to slide a little deeper inside your warm, wet throat. For a second, you’re struggling to breathe. Forced to do nothing but let him stroke your cheek as you try to regain what you lost. It’s a hard couple of seconds. One that makes the threes fall a little faster, and your heart beat a little quicker than it had been before. But eventually, you balance out. You get your stability. You relearn how to breathe with a cock stuffed in your mouth. You find that all is well. 

  But only then, does Hisoka’s lips decide to reacquaint themselves with your clit again. 

  “Mmm…” You’re forced to moan against Chrollo’s dick at the sensation, but he’s gracious enough to let you pull off of him after a couple of seconds to enjoy what’s being given to you. And so, the leader of the Phantom Troupe’s cock falls from your mouth with a lewd, lewd pop and your voice is free to sing as loudly to the hotel room walls as Hisoka can make you. “...Wait, wait, wait-”

  But he doesn’t wait. The clown you’re oh-so deeply terrified of doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath or regain your bearings. Instead, he just lets his eyes flicker up from between your parted legs to you and a smirk plays at his lips before his head goes back to burying itself in between your thighs. And there you are- stuck watching and whimpering and withering as a long, skillful tongue flicks itself against your clit and circles it was a little too much skill to be natural. Up and down. Side to side. In circles. Creating shapes.

   He does all that despite your cries. He does all that despite your pleas. And you’re nice and good and messy and creamy for him once more, he decides it’s time to go back to licking down the expanse of your slit. Tasting just about everything you have to offer in this moment again and again and again and again. And when that isn’t enough for him? He starts grabbing at your thighs- lifting you up further and further and spreading your legs wider and wider as his nails press into your skin and his tongue slips between your lower lips. Wandering and swimming and exploring your insides. Like they were his all along.

  But the second he moved your body, somebody else rejoined the fight. Someone who isn’t so keen on being ignored or not in control of the situation. Especially when it has to do with a certain murderous, sociopathic, literal clown who’s currently busying himself with poor, spent little cunny right now.

  “Don’t hog.” 

  That’s all you’re able to hear Illumi say before he starts to move you himself. Immediately, you’re gasping out as the man lying beneath you lifts his legs up to prop yours up even further. Hisoka easily is able to follow your body’s movements and doesn’t even stop eating you out for a moment. Chrollo doesn’t fail to take advantage of this opportunity either. With this angle, you’re up a little higher. And with a hand on your cheek once more, he’s turning your head and slipping his cock down your throat. A little easier than before. But it’s not the sudden intrusion of a dick brushing against the back of your throat that gets you to cry out and moan this time. Nor is it the feeling of Hisoka tongue-fucking you in that way you know only he is capable of. 

  No, no, no instead it’s the feeling of Illlumi's own cock. Going a little further up your tiny little puckered hole. Spread you out nice and wide like you never imagined you’d get spread out before. 

  And you absolutely loved it.

  “Don’t get jealous. You don’t move your hips enough to upset with me.” Hisoka remarks back, taking his face away from your pussy just long enough to shoot some harsh words back at the assassin. But all too soon, he’s back to paying attention to your body- blowing against your clit and kissing it softly. Almost as if apologizing for losing focus on you. “Who do you think got her wet for you to enjoy this, hmmm?”

  At Hisoka’s blow, Illumi starts to sit up- forcing his cock a bit deeper inside of you a little too suddenly. Once again, you pull your mouth off of Chrollo’s cock in favor of letting out a loud, loud gasp that falls into a nice and needly little moan real quickly. Your hand comes up and settles over your lower stomach. Almost as if that would ease the intense feelings being delivered onto you in this moment. Very subtly, Illumi is starting to rock his hips beneath you. Pressing just barely further before pulling out a little. You moan again at that feeling as Illumi’s own hands come up to put themselves against your stomach and press down. But before you can let out another pleasure-filled sound, Chrollo is grabbing your face and leading it towards him for the umpteenth time tonight. And you don’t even have to wait to be told to open your mouth and stick out your tongue for him. 

  You just do. 

  And Chrollo makes quick work of your throat. Using and using and using it to his heart’s contents. Just like how Hisoka makes quick work of your pussy- lapping and licking and sucking and slurping it up as your juices spill over and your nectar runs free. Just like how Illumi rolls his hips into yours. Soaking up your gasps and letting out his own groans and grunts about just how tight and perfect you are. And so the three of them work in unison. They move in tandem- taking their own turns distracting you. Producing your moans and your pleasure and the warm, growing feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s starting to get more and more unbearable with time. 

  Some more words are exchanged. Some more threats are said. A few more glares. A few more changes in the aura. And sometimes translates into someone snapping their hips into yours. Sometimes that translates into someone sucking your clit a little too hard. Or making you swallow so much dick that you’re stuck drooling all over yourself as your hands tighten into fists and all you can do is struggle to breathe. All so that way they can stop. Let you rest. Let you breathe. Let you exist. And then put you back into the same place while the three of them change positions.

  Enjoying different parts of you that they didn’t get to explore before.

  Though in the end, you still don’t think they’re the most dynamic trio. They’re powerful people. Powerful on their own. Powerful in their own right. But in a way, they feel far too different. Far from friends. But exactly like people with a shared goal. A shared vision. A shared toy, even. So, it’s true. Sometimes, they mesh together very well. A little too well. Without even trying. Without even wanting it too bad. Sometimes, they mesh together very, very, very well. At least, you know they do sometimes. You know they do. 

    Especially when it comes to you.

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 21: aftercare with il capitano from genshin impact

warnings: aftercare, very very very soft, capitano being inhumanely large like 7ft tall smt smt, fluff, established relationship, mentions of sex

notes: nooo what do yall mean i have a new favorite character from genshin impact! i still like my anemo boys very much hahahahah nervous laughter

to others, il capitano is terrifying.

his tall and imposing frame scares away every living creature. the metal clinking of his armor and the heavy broadsword he carries doing nothing to make him less approachable. if anything it’s the opposite.

to others, il capitano is that. il capitano. the captain of the fatui harbingers and the first of the eleven. a man who holds great title and an even greater power. just his sheer presence demands respect and authority from those that dare to approach him within 2 meters of distance.

but to you, he was your loving husband. behind the closed shut privacy of your shared manor, il capitano would shed his titles and duties alongside his heavy fatui coat. hanging them by the door as he enters your shared bedroom.

in the safe and warm comfort of your home and in your arms, he was just capitano. no need for fancy titles or powerful presence or terrifying strength that rivaled monsters. just a tired man and a loving, devoted husband who kneels before you.

said large man would freely give himself up for you. lying down on the bed, spreading his legs for you as he keeps his hands by his side, clutching into the sheets below him as your hands trail over his skin. flushed cheeks and dazed eyes looking at you longingly, baritone voice letting out an uncharacteristic moans and soft whimpers when you finally wrap your hand around his dick.

he was always such a big man. imposing frame and muscular physique coupled with his silent demeanor all worked in great favor to intimidate his enemies. but not to you. to you, your husband would gladly let down his walls, feeling small and vulnerable in your arms despite him being way larger than you.

but that was the meaning of being in love. capitano loved you and he loved being your husband and he hoped that you feel the same about the two of you and your relationship.

when your hand would gently coax him back into consciousness, helping to ground his mind from the hazy cotton filled brain of his after tender moments, capitano would let out a low grunt before followed by a chuckle. the sound deep and rumbling, coming from the depths of his heart as he leans into the palm of your hand like a cat seeking affection. you always joked of him being an oversized cat.

holding his larger and marred hand in your own, you would help him get up. guiding the two of you to the bathroom where the large bathtub was already filled warm water and bath bombs. sinking into the soothing water, capitano would allow himself this momentary respite.

his scarred flesh peppered in loving kisses and gentle caresses by your expert hands. in return, he would place kisses on your skin, wherever he could reach first. the feeling of your hand running through the long locks of his hair would cause him to let out a sound akin to a purr. melting into your embrace despite him having you on his lap. he always felt so small when he was within your presence.

briefly, you would suggest of trimming the ends of his hair in a soft voice, almost lulling him completely into sleep. wrapping his arms around your waist tighter, he would pull you close until your bare chest would meet his. heartbeats in unison as it could be felt through the skin and flesh keeping you both away. wordlessly, capitano would nod to your suggestion.

your husband would always nod along and agree to whatever you would say or suggest. if you were to ask him to bring you the heart of an archon as a valentine gift as a joke, capitano would try his damnest to make it a reality. that’s just how smitten he was with you. you were the only one that can bring him to his knees and keel him on his toes, after all.

after the wash-up of your post-coital is finished and his large body is safely wrapped around your smaller frame like a blanket, would he find himself able to talk again. some mundane things like a white furred fox he saw or a new stall opened at the market square that he knows you would love to visit. ever so often, capitano would adjust his arm to pull you tighter against himself. almost as if hoping to mold your bodies and souls together so he could never be separated from you ever again.

with a gentle kiss to your forehead, a quiet “good night, my beloved” paired with an uncharacteristically gentle smile filled with mirth, capitano knows that you are his life. his one and only. and his heart. the keeper of his soul.

[cartierre]

COUNT CONTESSA | lh44

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lewis hamilton x fem!black!fashion designer!reader

side note: i named the fashion brand "contessa" because i was listening to count contessa by azealia banks, hence the title side note pt2: this is a bit all over the place, i'm sorry

♡ liked by contessa and 374,038 people

tagged: lewishamilton, yourfashionbrand

f1 It's race day and Lewis Hamilton is rocking yet another fit from contessa !

view all 737 comments

user1 at this point he should become their fashion ambassador ⤷ user2 fr he's been wearing their clothes a lot recently

user3 nobody does fashion like sir lewis hamiltonnn

contessa looking good in red!

user4 lewis' fashion sense never fails to amaze me ⤷ user5 no one is doing it like him fr (zhou being a close second)

♡ liked by lewishamilton, bellahadid and 67,498 others

tagged: lewishamilton

contessa The pleasure is all ours to announce our newest fashion ambassador: Formula One driver lewishamilton ! We are absolutely delighted to work on future projects together with such an inspirational and encouraging person. Lewis Hamilton represents everything our brand stands for: Passion, Elegance and Diversity. Welcome to our team, Lewis.

view all 463 comments

user6 i've been waiting for this moment for so long! ⤷ user7 it was bound to happen i mean honestly he was wearing y/n's clothes for so long now

yourusername really happy to be able to work together lewishamilton ⤷ lewishamilton ditto!

user8 this is the absolute perfect fit omg

user9 i just know lewis giggled so badly when he signed the contract

user10 i need to see y/n and lewis together now they'd be so powerful next to each other

♡ liked by contessa, lewishamilton and 83,928 others

yourusername jewelry prototypes

view all 1,283 comments

user11 the way i could immediatly spot lewis' hands

user12 i know y/n and lewis work together but my delusional ass hopes they're kinda dating... ⤷ user13 no because saaammmeee

lewishamilton 💎💎 comment liked by yourusername

user14 okay so now i know what the next thing is i'm saving my money for ⤷ user15 y/n is every penny saved worth spending on

♡ liked by 192,837 people

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton

f1gossip Lewis Hamilton and fashion designer Y/N Y/L/N, founder of Contessa, have been spotted holding hands on multiple occasions during this years New York Fashion Week. The driver became one of the brand's fashion ambassador end of last year and has been seen around the designer more than often, leading to speculations of the couple dating. Is this their way of confirming the rumours or just two co-workers enjoying the fashion week?

view all 1,293 comments

user16 honestly i called it

user17 are we surprised? no. but i am giggling and kicking my feet.

user18 i need an official statement right now or i cannot sleep properly

user19 they knew they'd slay if seen together

user20 officially the new it couple on my list

♡ liked by yourusername, contessa, lewishamilton and 283,495 others

tagged: yourusername, lewishamilton, contessa

voguemagazine Y/N Y/L/N and Lewis Hamilton stun in custom Contessa at the 2023 Met Gala. This marks the couple's first official public appearance.

#MetGala #Y/N_Y/L/N #Lewis_Hamilton #Contessa

view all 2,183 comments

user21 they both ate everyone UP OML

user22 i know it was rumoured already but to have them as a real couple now has me feeling excited for them all over again

user23 nothing is more fashion than announcing your relationship at the met gala ⤷ user24 they're so slay

user25 i thought u weren't meant to mix your work life and private life

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

"... and then he casts aside the coach he seduced and moves on to the judges..."

In the context of the latest chapter of my YOI novelisation, I subjected the scene in which Yuuri flaunts a big portion of extra sass by blowing that kiss at the start of his short programme a closer examination.

There are two ways to interpret that move. Each one has different implications for the plot as well as for Yuuri's characterisation and motivation. And one is more plausible than the other.

Let's take a closer look at each interpretation!

1. Yuuri blows Viktor the kiss

Such a move would neatly join the ranks of past performances of Eros. What strikes me here as unusual, however, is that how anticlimactic the blow-kiss feels compared to the sensual lip-licking Yuuri did at the Cup of China because so far, he became flirtier with every performance of Eros. One would naturally expect him to double down on that as an escalation to an even lewder gesture.

In a continuous escalation of the Eros intro, the blow-kiss would happen after the flirty nod and before the lip-licking. But that doesn't happen. A blow-kiss for Viktor at this point in the story would thus imply that Yuuri no longer needs to seduce Viktor because he accomplished that at the Cup of China and focuses on keeping the love alight. However, the flippancy of the move contradicts the current stage of Yuuri and Viktor's relationship as them being madly in love and only days away from Yuuri blurting out a proposal at the airport reunion. It also contradicts Yuuri's intention to form a bond with Viktor because it stands in stark contrast to the committment Yuuri has been showing regarding his relationship for the last couple of episodes.

Just by looking at Yuuri's characterisation, this scenario seems not that likely to me.

2. Yuuri performs to the judges

Yuuri's short programme at the Rostelecom Cup has one main theme:

Before the crowd can intimidate me in enemy territory, I must intimidate them.

Skating in Viktor's homeland and in front of the people whose hero he has stolen, puts immense pressure on Yuuri that forces him to skate better than ever. Flirting with Viktor is no longer enough, Yuuri must seduce convince the audience that Viktor didn't waste his time on him and that includes seducing convincing the judges. He is freaking out internally over the possibility that this might be the last competition with Viktor as his coach. Unlike at the Cup of China where his inner monologue during his skate revolved around his prowess of seducing Viktor, his thoughts are centered around the audience. Every skater knows that an excited crowd generates power that motivates them to perform even better, and the effect of that is not lost on the judges, either. By flirting with the judges, Yuuri can increase his chances for a high placing and gets rewarded with a new personal best. Figure skating is a crazy sport and athletes can be quite eccentric, but a direct flirt probably isn't on the list of things the judges see that often—and if they did, they rather saw it from the likes of Chris. (Performing to the judges has become popular in the 2023/2024 season, but only a small part of the skaters bold enough for that move, actually used it to flirt with the judges. Right now I can only think of Loena Hendrickx in her free programme.)

It really takes guts to flirt with the judges like. Yuuri is known to show guts in the most desperate situations and when the stakes are highest, and the Rostelecom Cup puts him to the test. He has grown so much that he no longer needs to rely on performing to Viktor to deliver a perfect skate. He now has the confidence to achieve with his skating any goal he sets his mind on and by doing so in episode 8, shows the world that coaching him wasn't a waste of Viktor's energy and time.

However, at the same time, Yuuri is sending a certain message to his coach and boyfriend. Paying no attention to Viktor in a moment in which Viktor anticipates to be the centre of Yuuri's attention is a small but sweet revenge for Viktor ignoring Yuuri earlier when he was supposed to send him off. This little gesture of saying "I can flirt with the audience, too" has the power to stoke Viktor's desire and make him even more devoted to Yuuri than he already is. It makes me wish that Makkachin was less greedy.

In a way, Yuuri's flirting with the judges is also a reference to the story he used in the beginning to get an idea of Eros: "...and then the woman casts aside the playboy she seduced and moves onto the next man." Not that Yuuri would ever cast Viktor aside for another man, he just knows how to pay him back in kind and get the message across. Beware, Viktor! This extra-large serving of katsudon his spicier than you can take.

Like Yuuri, Viktor has come to Moscow with a goal "I want everyone to focus on Yuuri" that is supplementary to Yuuri's goal to convince the audience of himself. Except for that one time when Viktor greets his fans like an overexcited puppy, all his words and actions strictly adhere to his motto, starting from the interview in the beginning, to lacing Yuuri's boots and kissing his blade. But he didn't reckon with Yuuri's eros that is quick to remind Viktor and the world that Yuuri made this man his. (How fortunate that Viktor forgets his coaching duties when Yuuri needs him most!)

These two kinky dorks absolutely deserve each other.

That Yuuri blows the judges a kiss is more in line with his characterisation and the themes in this episode than Viktor being the recipient of that kiss. The cut towards the judges right afterwards supports this theory from a technical viewpoint. The Rostelecom Cup SP is the first time that we get a glimpse of the judging panel during Yuuri's performance. We've not been shown the judges' shocked expressions right after Yuuri blew the kiss because that move was so scandalous. Yuuri has been more scandalous in the past and the creators didn't bother to show us the judges then and preferred to show us a blushy Viktor and a stuttering commentator instead. The cut towards the judges seems to be a deliberate choice to drive home whom Yuuri was flirting with.

It's amazing how much meaning the YOI creators poured into even these couple of seemingly insignificant but hilarious seconds. And that deepens the love and appreciation I feel for this beautiful show.

A personal note below...

If you like this meta, please consider supporting me by reblogging it or giving this blog a follow. You might also be interested in checking out my canon works on AO3.

[jouska-the-deer]

Sonic Twitter and TikTok Takeover 2023 Masterpost

Guess what? I saved every response to the takeover like I did last year, and here they all are, with a bonus.

I created a transcript of every single answer and saved it in a Google Doc, which you can find the link to [Here]

Links to all the individual Tweets and Tiktoks can be found below in order of when they were answered.

Intro [Twitter Link][TikTok Link]

Sonic: Question from @MetroGamer21: “How often do you keep your quills sharp? Do you brush it yourself or do you have someone else do it?”

Sonic: Alright. Question from At Xyn…qieqie underscore- “Okay Knuckles, I just gonna know what’s under your gloves!” Uh, geez. “Is it weird spiked hands or is it just the design of the gloves?”

Amy: This question is from @SilentNayuri. They ask Eggman, (Clears throat) “Out of every machine you’ve built, which one was your favorite?"

Tails: This question is from @Prisma_Sonic. “To Sonic, have you ever wondered if there were other versions of you out there? Asking for a friend.”

Sonic: This question’s from Jack. “For Eggman.” Oh. “Why did you get rid of the yellow cape? It was so fashionable!”

Sonic: Well this question is for me from At daniel nu beh n… “For Sonic, who in the group do you think is the prettiest!”

Amy: From @Rayfun_25028. “To Knuckles, I always wondered, how are you able to glide, actually.”

Sonic: This next question comes from @pabloandoogway. “Why do none of you use the emerald power anymore?”

Eggman: Question coming in hot from @BlueBlur68. Let’s see. “For Sonic, since you guys were in Eggman’s dream, what would Sonic’s dream be like?”

Tails: Question from Leyla. They ask, “Do you guys sometimes feel dizzy when you do a spindash or jump? If not, why?”

Amy: Aw! This next one’s from @selkadombom1n. They said, “Hey gang, big fan here. Today’s takeover is actually very special because it’s also my nineteenth birthday.” Aw. “If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a happy birthday serenade from your beautiful singing voices?”

Knuckles: wyattron asks, “Do the Chaos Emeralds have different tastes with the different colors?”

Tails: @Razer, Ooh, asks, “Are there any moments where going fast is not the best option?”

Tails: This question is from Pastelz. “Knuckles, does Rouge ever come by trying to steal the Master Emerald?”

Tails: This question is from @thatblockholevt. “To Eggman. What would your fursona be?”

Amy: Yubby asks me, “Do you wear inhibitor rings?”

Sonic: Question from @HannahW_1031 to Amy, “When or how did you get into reading fortune cards and where did you get them?”

Knuckles: knulaa! asks, “What are your thoughts on knowing that you have a biggest fan?”

Tails: Question from At Real-Mephi-One-es-Fan, “To Amy Rose. How was the concert with Shadow? Did you go to any other concerts by any chance?”

Knuckles: Two Stars asks: “For Tails, where did your fear of thunder come from?”

Eggman: Question from @ShadowsTrueBiggestFan, “Can I adopt Shadow? He can’t say no he isn’t in the Twitter takeover.”

Eggman: @DigiDevilTrig asks, “Sonic, if you’re the fastest thing alive, why did you use the train to go to the Mystic Ruins?”

Sonic: This one’s from spiro. Hi Eggman, are you looking for another henchman? I could be your henchwoman? I’m on your side all the way! Team Eggman!"

Sonic: This next one’s from holz. They say, “Since Shadow isn’t present this time, what’re your opinions on him?”

Knuckles: @Sonic_Sunset asks, “We know Sonic was a huge inspiration for Tails, but does he have other sources of inspiration? Like Dr. Eggman’s machinery for example.”

Sonic: Let’s see. This next question is from ‘the dog is very cool’. Interesting, uh, username, there, but, I’m happy for you. They ask, “Can I borrow a couple rings? I wanna buy a bag of funions.” 

Tails: @45Euvee asks, “For everyone. If you were a flavor of cake, what flavor would you be?”

Knuckles: Uh, I think this is for everyone. thehiddenface52 asks, “What’s your favorite winter activity?”

Sonic: This is from sam. “To everyone, how much sleep do you need? Does the fastest thing alive need a full eight hours?”

Eggman: Question from @valiixe. “If Sonic was a worm, would any of you guys still like him?”

Knuckles: Autumn asks, “How can I convince my dad to give me all Sonic stuff for Christmas?”

Eggman: @TailsAustin9922 asks the class, “What is something that you don’t do very well that you’d like to improve on?”

Amy: Okay! Question from @JopieTropi. They ask, “If the five of you could swap roles with someone for an entire day, who would each of you choose?”

Sonic: Question from fan, “Why is it called an oven when you ove in the cold food of out hot eat the food.”

Sonic: At creator-super-long-underscore asks, “Is it painful to give Knuckles a fist bump or handshake?”

Amy: @SpongyRabbit asks Sonic, “Why don’t you just put Eggman in jail?” 

Eggman: @thefortnitelegend190 asks, “Eggman, why don’t you team with Sonic? You guys would be a really good team.”

Tails: @squidboi7674 asks, “Eggman, do you do commissions? Like can I pay you to do a custom badnik all for me, because that would be really cool I think.”

Sonic: @TyphonTwister asks, “You guys have beaten a lot of baddies over the years. This might be a little weird but, who was your favorite to fight? Besides the good doctor of course.”

Tails: ExcaliburSonic asks, “If flamingos are pink because they eat shrimp, then why are you blue? Do you eat blue paint?”

Knuckles: This is from kittyxpickle. They ask, “To Knuckles, rougher than the rest of them, are you allowed on the internet without supervision? If yes, please reconsider.”

Outro [Twitter Link] [TikTok Link]

Feel free to let me know of any mistakes or missing responses, in either this post or the transcript doc, and I'll try to fix it. I'll also take suggestions on how to improve the transcript, since this is my first time making one.

[gimmethatagustd]

lost in a heartbeat | pjm

Keeping up with your fledgling boyfriend's new sexual appetite wasn't something you'd considered when you agreed to turn him.

↳ pairing: vampire!jimin x vampire(f)!reader

↳ rating/genre: BTS | 18+ | supernatural | established relationship | smut | fluff

↳ wc/date: 2.8k | may 2023

↳ warnings: lots of biting and blood | unprotected vaginal sex | vaginal fingering | bulging jfdksjhs don't look at me | reader passes out | mentions fangwarming

↳ notes: this can be read as a standalone, but it's better if you read nectar and touch me after midnight. i hope you enjoy it! i love this couple so much. i struggle to let them go. full disclosure, i did not edit this at all khsdkfjs so uhhhh. good luck.

↳ masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? slow (ft. ciara) - jackson wang

series masterlist

“My little vampy seems so needy,” Jimin speaks into the crook of your neck. He squeezes your hips and presses his face into your skin with a bit more force, the closeness of his body forcing you to step back until you are caught between him and the wall. 

You feel his front teeth graze your shivering skin in a smirk as he teases you. 

“Does she want daddy to help her?” 

“Oh my god, Park Jimin, do not call yourself that.” 

“Call myself what?” 

He lifts his face from your neck long enough to stare at you with large, sparkling eyes partially obscured by his bangs. As much as you loved his pink hair, and the soft blonde it had faded into, Jimin’s naturally dark hair does something to you. The color brights out the gleam in his eyes. 

Right now, you’re more focused on his tongue circling his lips - plump, perfect lips that fall into an O-shaped pout while his eyebrows furrow together. You narrow your eyes, but Jimin only grins. You know he isn’t innocent, and he knows you don’t have it in you to punish him for being bad. 

And he does love to be bad. 

“You know what,” you say with a loud huff. “And you’re not allowed to call me little vampy anymore.” Despite your harsh tone, you gather Jimin’s shirt into your fists and pull him against you. 

“Oh really? You don’t like it?” 

“You know I don’t.” 

“I think you do.” 

“Park Jimin.”

“So many rules…” 

A bit of guilt nips at your heart, but Jimin’s mouth is wet against your collarbone, and his fingers lower to unbutton your jeans. You’re sure he didn’t mean anything by what he said, but you feel anxious anyway. 

“I didn’t.” 

You tilt your head slightly, confusion replacing the anxiety - if only for a moment. 

“I didn’t mean anything by what I said,” he confirms, and his lips capture yours before you can scold him for reading your mind.

Jungkook had never been able to do that - read your mind. Sure, you and your ex-boyfriend could once sense each other’s emotions, and Jungkook even had hypnotic-like power over you. It’s not unusual, just the mental and emotional bond vampires form when they feed off each other. 

The moment you sired Jimin, the bond with Jungkook was severed for good. This new sire bond with your boyfriend is so, so different, though.

For starters, he can read your mind. 

That’s one of the rules - no reading your mind without your permission. 

Jimin says it’s hard, though. Little whispers of your thoughts flit through his head, and he has trouble stopping them, especially when you’re upset. 

Like now. With all the rules. You can’t help it. Being a new vampire means Jimin has to learn the rules of how to exist in the world in a new way. Even you’re trying to figure shit out for the first time; you’d been born a vampire. So all of this is new for you, too. 

Your thoughts are distracted by the moan you instinctually growl from the back of your throat when Jimin slides his hand inside your underwear. You rest your face against his chest and continue to squeeze his shirt in your fists. His fingers are cold; of course, they are. You’ve yet to get used to this new body temperature, although he didn’t feel as cold to you as he will feel toward a human. Your cool temperatures seem to balance out well. 

You gently press your lips against his skin to kiss and suck his collarbone. Your head falls back against the wall Jimin has you shoved against when you feel his knee spread your legs apart further so he can pump his fingers into you more forcefully. Even from the beginning, Jimin knew how to find the spot that would have you shaking in his hand. 

“Fuck,” Jimin moans against your lips. He tries stealing a kiss, but he can’t bring himself to capture your lips with his when every ragged breath stumbles out of his mouth in a moan. 

One particularly rough thrust against your front wall made you sob, and Jimin’s legs nearly gave out. 

“Are you okay, baby?” You frown, grasping his sides to help hold him up. 

There’s no surprise that he is affected by the moment; Jimin is the type to get turned on by pleasuring his partner. He can’t understand how some guys don’t get hard from touching or going down on their partners. The first time Jimin ate you out, he’d been convinced he could cum just from doing that. 

Jimin has his eyes closed, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, making his fangs poke out. He takes a shaky breath before opening those deep, caramel-red eyes to you. 

“I can feel it,” he croaks out. “I feel you… It goes straight to my fucking dick, fuck. It feels so good. It’s so much.” 

“Ohh.” 

It’s the sire bond. Somehow, stronger than Jungkook’s once was. No wonder Jimin can’t stand on his own if he’s feeling both his pleasure and yours. 

Removing his hand from your pants, Jimin hooks his arms around your thighs to hoist you up. How many times has he carried you into his bedroom? Ever since the two of you had gotten back together, Jimin was shoving you onto his bed, or your bed, or the couch, or the floor, or the kitchen table, or or or or… Every night. And sometimes in the mornings. And sometimes multiple times during the day. It seemed Jimin was determined to make up for all the lost time. 

This time is different, though. 

This time, Jimin throws you onto his bed and rips your clothes off with the new strength he has yet to learn to control. The button on your jeans pops off and skids across the wood floors as Jimin rips your pants down. 

You flinch when you hear fabric tear. Jimin’s sucking dark hickeys onto your neck, hickeys that are possible to see because you’ve recently fed. 

You can’t see how your shredded shirt falls off of you. You just feel his nails drag down your sides until he reaches your underwear. Then, hooking his fingers in the waistband, Jimin rips the flimsy lace off you. 

The little bitch. You’d braved Victoria’s Secret with Nikki by your side and bought all that stupid lingerie specifically for him. Shoved your ass into too-small panties and thongs and wore bras that pushed your tits too high up your chest, and for what? For him to rip it all to shreds without even stopping to admire it! 

“Park Jimin!” 

He lifts his head, and you stare into eyes so black it’s impossible to see his pupils. They’re glazed over and shiny as though they’re made of glass. His bangs fall against his forehead, getting in the way of his eyes. 

“Yes, princess?” The deepness of his voice makes you shiver. There’s a gravelly edge to it that made him sound inhuman. 

“Lingerie is expensive.” 

Your boyfriend blinks a few times as though he’s struggling to break through the haze of lust that hits him doubly as hard. 

“I’ll buy you more.” 

At least you aren’t wearing a bra for him to destroy. Your underwear is gone forever, though. Ripped up with the rest of your clothes littering Jimin’s bedroom. There is little time to think about how much money he’d just destroyed before Jimin’s fangs are nipping at your chest, scattering small puncture wounds across your skin. 

It’s good, so good, you find yourself on the verge of tears, chants of more, please, Jimin, more as cool touches brush down your arms, cold fingers press into the curve of your waist. Each puncture of fangs pumping searing venom into your veins. 

Vampire blood is dead blood. It provides very little nutritional value, but the emotional bond it creates between a vampire and their sire is worth more than the need to satisfy any hunger. 

More, so good, baby, just-just take. 

Jimin’s hands quickly remove his clothes while his mouth stays occupied. He leans forward to suck on the dribbles of blood that drip down your tits. Each open-mouth kiss makes your body shiver uncontrollably the lower down your torso Jimin plants them. You moan when his tongue, wet with your blood, swirls around your nipple. 

After Jungkook, you’d told yourself you’d never let another vampire drink from you again. The mental connection it caused between two vampires who fed off each other was too dangerous to risk creating with someone else. But you are Jimin’s sire. You slit your wrist to feed him what most humans considered a cursed life, but what Jimin craved more than anything in this world - more than pain and pleasure combined. 

The two of you are mentally, emotionally, and physically linked - for the rest of your undead lives. It doesn’t matter if Jimin gives in to his instincts by tasting you, marking you up so everyone knows you are his. 

You like it. You like letting him run rampant, the wildness of his hunger and the new power raging through his veins unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Born vampires don’t experience the feral stage of a turned fledgling. 

“Ahh, fuck, Ji-” A moan cuts you off. You throw your head back, letting it hang while you attempt to hold yourself up on your elbows, even as Jimin tries to push you onto your back. 

He settles between your legs, his fangs pressing into the deliciously soft skin of your inner thigh. This is the first time he will have sex as a vampire; you’re willing to excuse his animalistic behavior. 

“Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.” Jimin’s voice cracks, and his fingers tremble when he squeezes your thighs. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t… think I will last. It’s just so much.” He nips the skin of your other thigh in frustration after seeing the smug look on your face. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t, ahh, say anything.” 

If you looked down, you’d see that your body is bloodied more than ever. Dark red, nearly black, streaks line your torso, some of the lines starting at your throat and trailing down to your thighs. The inside of your thighs are bruised, and the puncture wounds haven’t healed yet. They’re black holes littering your skin. 

Sucking in a sharp breath, you can feel the blood pooling in your belly button. You feel lightheaded, but every touch of his body against yours makes your head explode with pleasure that rolls like liquid down your body. 

It isn’t just that Jimin can feel you. You feel him, too. 

So, when you feel the head of Jimin’s cock circle your clit, you nearly start crying. 

“Jimin,” you sob, fisting the bed sheets so tightly that your inhuman strength causes you to rip holes in them. 

“I know,” Jimin presses his face against the leg he’s propped over his shoulder. He’s gripping your other leg by the back of your thigh, squeezing it almost painfully so he can hold it up and open. “I know.” 

The sweetness of his voice falls in stark contrast with the sting of his nails digging into your skin to hold you in place as he eases his cock into you. 

Your head falls against the bed from the energy you exert as you try not to completely lose yourself in him. Despite dating Jimin for two years, you feel woefully unprepared for how he pounds into you. He relentlessly fucks into you hard enough to leave deep bruises all over your body after the initial ones have already healed from his venom. 

“It’s so good, isn’t it. Shit.” Jimin’s dark bangs obscure his face when he tilts his head to look down where your bodies connect. He isn’t asking you because he wants to know. This is less of a question and more of an agreement because he knows how you feel. He feels how you feel. Each slippery glide of his cock against your walls, the heightened sensations vibrating through your body because of the aphrodisiac effects of his venom. 

You barely register that you haven’t even bitten him, nor has he asked you to.

“Fuck.” 

Jimin presses his hand against your abdomen, obsessed with the bulge his cock creates every time he thrusts into you. The pressure makes you squirm under his touch. 

“You’re close.” 

Again, he doesn’t ask. He knows. 

You whimper a confirmation anyway. 

“I can, ah, ah,” Angelic moans punctuate each thrust. He’s nearly at the point he’s nonverbal; all you can do is try not to rip holes into the mattress and arch your back. “Neck.”

“Please,” you manage to choke out, and he’s leaning forward, nearly breaking you in half to press his tongue against your neck. You flinch when you realize his tongue is warm as he flattens it to slowly press along your throat. 

“Okay, okay, y-yes, I’m going…” 

Jimin brings his fingers to your clit while simultaneously sinking his fangs into your neck again. The conflicting sensations are nearly too much for your body to handle. Your pussy constricts around Jimin’s cock as you scream your orgasm out of you. Jimin comes the moment you do, so overcome with the power of your simultaneous orgasms, he collapses with dead weight on your body. It hurts how he falls, but you’re barely clinging to consciousness when he does. 

“Jimin.” 

Your voice is just as weak as your body, and you feel yourself slowly letting go of whatever was holding your head above water. 

When you wake up, you first notice the overwhelming scent of lavender. The t-shirt hanging off your shoulders is soft, and you snuggle back into the covers once you realize your body is clean. The bed sheets are, too, freshly washed, just like your hair and body. Two years ago, you would have been ashamed to pass out and leave someone else to deal with you - to clean, dress, and take care of you. 

Now you smile with the knowledge that someone in the world treasures you despite the monster you could be. Fuck, someone who became the same monster you could be. For you and no other reason. 

“Princess?” 

“You know I fucking hate when you call me that.” The blunt response is said with a smile. 

You open your eyes once more. The bright light filtering through the window’s blinds tells you you fell asleep late into the day. 

Jimin presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He’s also dressed in comfy, clean clothes - a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. The ends of his hair are still wet from the shower he likely just took. It explains how overwhelming all the lavender is - lavender detergent, hair products, and lotion. Lavender is the smell of home now. 

When you tilt your head up to look at him, you wince at the soreness in your neck. 

“Sorry,” Jimin apologizes sheepishly. “I think I went a little too hard last night.” 

You laugh as you press your hand against the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss. You force your tongues into a fight for control, humming into his mouth as you taste the blood he must have just drank for lunch. 

“You never asked me to bite you,” you mumble against his lips. He tries nipping at your bottom lip with his blunt teeth, playful and nothing more. 

“It was nice to… be the other person doing it.” Jimin seems shy as he admits this; it’s not a feeling you’re used to seeing from him. 

“Most sires don’t let their baby vamps bite them,” you muse. 

“I’m not a baby,” Jimin whines. He pushes you over, pouncing onto you once your back hits the bed. “I just like it, okay? It makes me feel close to you.” He runs his nose along your jaw. 

You get it, though. Even if it’s unwanted, there’s a power dynamic that goes into biting. It’s easy to get high off of, even when you’re not the one with the venom in your dead veins. 

“We should try fangwarming.” 

A deep rumble, almost like a growl, vibrates from Jimin’s throat. The power behind the sound makes you laugh. 

“You’re so predictable, Park Jimin.” 

Jimin presses his smile against your throat. “You love me anyway, though.” 

It’s something you’ve told each other before, but hearing it still feels new and exciting. To know that it’s a love so potent you both were willing to change yourselves - in different but meaningful ways. 

“I love you too. For eternity, even.” You wrap your arms around Jimin’s waist and pull him closer. 

“For eternity.” 

series masterlist

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

[wongyuseokie]

The Taste of Metal & You | l.c

Summary: Your boyfriend got his lip pierced and wants to know if you can feel it when he’s laying with his head between your thighs. 

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕smut | ♥︎ completed

Word Count: 721 words

Pairing: Lee Chan x Female Reader 

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Smut, Fluff, PWP. Content Warnings: Mentions of piercings and needles, but it's very mild. Cute fluffy couple of moments, Chan being a smartass, but we love that. Let him feel powerful somewhere. 

Smut Warnings: Oral (f receiving), face sitting, fingering. Hair tugging, scratching Dino’s very toned back. Unprotected sex (don’t do this irl). Cumming inside. Chan is on top (because, come on, he’s never on top otherwise). Creampie. Authors Note 1: Thank you to @kwanisms for the title!! and a big thank you to @kthpurplesyou & @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this and beta'ing it for me!

Authors Note 2: Tagging @cuntdino because, well I couldn't not tag the biggest dinonara I know. and my lovey @seokgyuu 💕 Cross Posted to AO3 © wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“Chan.” 

“Y/N.” 

“When did you do that?” You asked, pointing at your boyfriend's handsome face, where a shiny new piercing adorned his soft lips. 

“Oh, so I enjoyed wearing the fake piercing so much. I just got a real one,” Chan replied smugly. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“When I fell from heaven?” 

“You’re impossible. Did the piercing hurt?” You clarified, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“A tad bit, the healing wasn’t fun, but it’s all good now,” Chan responded cooly as he laid down on the bed next to you, his hand immediately finding your bare thighs. 

“I wonder,” Chan said aloud and leaned forward to kiss your bare thigh, making you jolt in surprise. 

“Mm, I like that reaction,” Chan said smugly.

“I wonder, how would you react if you could feel the piercing somewhere else?” Chan wondered out loud, and you turned to glare at him. 

“Stop with the riddles. What do you mean?” You asked. 

“Sit on my face,” Chan stated casually, making you choke on air. 

“What?” 

“You know what I mean. Sit on my face, pretty girl,” Chan repeated as he adjusted himself on the bed, waiting for you. You bit your lip for a second before peeling off your clothes and panties to comply with his request. 

You licked your lips in anticipation as you placed your thighs on either side of his head, his lips immediately latching onto your aching clit. 

“Fuck,” you gasped. 

“Oh, we can do that later, too,” Chan mumbled, and you tugged on his hair harder, making him groan and smirk into your pussy, as he continued his movements. 

Chan moved his hands around your ass to help push you further onto his face, and you laced your hands into his hair as his tongue worked wonders on your cunt. You could only whimper and groan as he licked your clit, using his teeth gently to graze the swollen nub. Chan moved his lips against your pussy again, and this time you gasped, feeling the cold metal rub along your swollen folds. 

“Oh my god, that felt so good!” You moaned in pleasure. 

Hearing you moan was enough for Chan as he intensified his movements, pushing his tongue into your cunt, while he moved his hand to your clit.

“Fuck!” You wailed as he ate you out while his finger rubbed slow circles on your clit. Itfinally pushed you over the edge, making you cum and scream in pleasure, your toes curling and eyes squeezing shut as you rode your orgasm on his tongue.

You rolled off his face and sat next to him, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips, moaning as you tasted your release on his lips. 

“Can you please fuck me?” You mumbled against his lips, making him smile into the kiss. 

“At least you said please,” Chan joked as he moved to peel his clothes off and kneeled between your thighs. He moved quickly, giving his hardened length a few pumps before pushing into you. 

“Fuck,” you moaned in approval as your hands immediately moved to his back, your nails gently grazing the skin there. Moans and sighs kept leaving your lips as he pounded into you, his hand moving to find your swollen clit and rubbing the bundle of nerves, making you clench and eventually cum around him. 

“Fuck,” Chan growled as he felt you tighten around him, leaning down on his forearms, his hands finding your face as he pulled you in for a soft kiss and kept fucking you. A few more hard thrusts and you felt Chan groan, burying his face in your neck as he came, his warmth filling you up. 

“Fuck,” you gasped as he slowly pulled out of you and pulled you into his arms. 

“Good?” Chan asked. 

“Good. But I’m not focused too much on how the piercing felt. You just were so good I nearly forgot,” you admitted shyly. 

“That’s okay, I can spend all night between your thighs, and you can tell me when you feel it.”

[lovecanyon]

HARRY X STYLIST!Y/N INSTAGRAM BLURB

MASTERLIST | PATREON

-

liked by harrystyles, mitchrowland and 201,749 others

yourinstagram mrs. styles (me) looking like a proud mom.

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harryfan6 I AM CRYING AND THROWING UP

harryfan10 knowing anne took this photo of y/n makes me 🥲

harrystyles Forever my pretty girl.

yourinstagram i love you sue!

harryfan8 A LITERAL POWER COUPLE

harryfan11 everyone’s mom and dad 💕

pillowpersonpp Truly the most gorgeous woman on earth xx

harryfan4 y/n is the most supportive wife ever

kidharpoon How many bracelets did you get from fans?

yourinstagram my left and right arm is covered! don’t be jealous! 🤭

liked by harryfan12, harryfan15 and 162,820 others

harryflorals “My wife and daughter are here tonight so let’s give them a round of applause. Let them know how loved they are.” HARRY ON STAGE TONIGHT TALKING ABOUT Y/N AND JULIET!

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harryfan18 he’s forever a family man 😭

harryfan14 JULIET MY FAVORITE NEPO BABY

harryfan16 she is going to get us the one direction reunion we all need

harryfan20 this is so cute omg

harryfan13 juliet needs a sister or brother…or something

harryfan19 harry deserves another child!!!

harryfan11 him being down bad for y/n needs to be studied 🙏

harryfan17 i’m getting hysterical over this

harryfan21 you can tell harry loves his family so much, i’m sobbing

harryfan23 I NEED HIM BADDDD

liked by harryfan24, harryfan27 and 201,639 others

stylesdaily Y/N AND JULIET OUT IN LONDON THIS MORNING!

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harryfan28 BEST MOM AND DAUGHTER DO

harryfan29 i just know juliet has that post concert depression

harryfan25 YOU ARE SO 😭😭

harryfan30 the life i need

harryfan22 okay but imagine being harry styles’ daughter…

harryfan33 juliet is our style icon

harryfan36 they are slaying

harryfan31 going to have myself reborn at the next styles child

harryfan34 the realest thing anyone has said 💯

liked by yourinstagram, gemmastyles and 4,902,482 others

harrystyles Love On Tour. London ll. June, 2023.

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harryfan41 THE PHOTO OF Y/N??? I’M GOING INSANEEE

harryfan48 why is this so adorable 😭

yourinstagram i love you forever!

harrystyles I love you for infinity!

harryfan40 losing my shit over this

harryfan46 they are never breaking up, that’s just the truth 😩

mitchrowland My wine buddy 🍷🍷

harryfan49 need a man to me obsessed with me like this

anthonypham Two of the best people ever

harryfan42 not getting over this anytime soon

liked by harrystyles, jefezoff and 6,127,669 others

yourinstagram can’t believe i’m spending the rest of my life with my best friend

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harryfan52 crying over the caption

harryfan58 Y/N AND HARRY BESTIES!!! YUPPP

harrystyles I love every moment with you.

yourinstagram don’t make me cry

harryfan51 LMAOO ME

harryfan55 harry and y/n’s love is so goddamn strong 😭

gemmastyles So sweet ❤️❤️ I love you three

harryfan53 julet wearing old merch is so real

pillowpersonpp Your story is truly a fairytale!

harryfan59 y/n wins at life officially

yourinstagram via stories

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia @b-reads-things

[hamsterclaw]

Heist

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 5 - read the rest here.

You know you can't trust Kim Taehyung from the moment you set eyes on him, he's a rogue through and through. So why do you agree to work together?

Pairing: Taehyung x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 4.2k

Genre: Con artists Taehyung and reader, smut, fluff

Warnings: Sex, swearing

It takes a con artist to know one, and you clocked Kim Taehyung as soon as he sauntered into the room with an insouciance so natural you knew it had to be practiced.

Even if you weren’t a con artist, just like he is, you’d have been able to work it out.

The preternatural beauty.

The elegance of his movements.

The exquisitely tailored clothing.

He’s too perfect to be real, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned in your time on this earth is that when something or someone is too perfect to be real, that it’s because they aren’t. 

Real, you mean, you’re not arguing that he’s perfect.

He works the room, charming, oozing sincerity, all artfully tousled dark hair, boxy smile and dark eyes. 

You’re watching, amused, as he collects influential people like they’re his friends instead of pawns in his game of confidence.

You’re so distracted that your own companion for the night, a dull but fabulously wealthy man called Seongho, comments on it, bringing you back to your present.

You’ve got your own game to run tonight, you remind yourself.

You put the beautiful man out of your thoughts and get back to it.

***

The hotel room door closes behind you with a quiet, discreet click, and the lush carpet muffles your footsteps as you tiptoe to the elevators.

The silver panels are about to close in front of you when a man enters hurriedly.

Speak of the devil.

It’s the beautiful con artist from last night.

He eyes you, then holds out his hand.

‘Kim Taehyung,’ he says.

His voice is deep, smoky, reminiscent of campfires, of toasted marshmallows and warmth.

You shake, introduce yourself in turn.

‘I noticed you last night,’ he says.

‘Yeah?’ you hum, non-committal.

‘Yeah,’ he says. 

At first you think he’s going to leave it at that, but then he laughs softly and asks, ‘Want to get breakfast?’

***

You’re a pretty pair, you have to admit, when you catch a glimpse of yourselves in the glass at the 24 hour cafe you’re eating at.

His physical attributes complement your own.

You could be siblings, friends, lovers. The possibilities are endless. 

You catch him eyeing you over his waffles, assessing you like you assessed him last night. 

He forks a mouthful of waffles into his mouth, chews, swallows. Washes it down with a swig of coffee. 

You cut your pancakes into squares, small, even. 

‘Want to work together?’ he asks. ‘The Black and White Ball is in a couple months.’ 

You flick your gaze at him. 

‘You’ve got an invite to the Black and White Ball?’ you ask, genuinely curious. 

The Black and White Ball is the society event of the season. It’s annual, the week before Christmas, and an invitation costs upwards of 50 million won. You’ve never had the stomach to find out how much a table costs. 

It’s attended by a veritable who’s who of powerful people in the city. A con artist’s dream. 

Taehyung shrugs, slides his phone across the table at you. 

‘I have two.’ 

You glance at the invitation, the familiar branding, but you already know it’s legitimate. 

You’re pretty good at knowing when people are lying, it helps that you’re so good at lying yourself. 

‘Why do you need me?’ you ask, hedging. 

Taehyung takes his phone back, slips it into the inside breast pocket of his exquisitely cut jacket. 

‘You’re like me. Think what we could do if we worked together.’ 

The offer is as irresistible as his stunning smile. 

This time, it’s you who reaches out your hand. 

***

Taehyung’s waiting outside the office building where you work when you finish. 

He glances over your neutral work outfit, your sensible flats, smirks a little. 

‘What do you know? Turns out your legs are as beautiful in couture as they are in cheap-ass polyester.’ 

You roll your eyes. ‘Yeah. What are you cosplaying as today? A broke college student?’ 

You tilt your head at his baggy jeans, casual tee under his oversized coat and beanie, the wire-rimmed glasses you know damn well are an affectation rather than a necessity. 

Taehyung laughs, holds out his arm. ‘Come on, let’s get noodles. I’ve got a party to get ready for tonight.’ 

At the noodle bar, you work on your cover stories for the Black and White Ball in between slurps of ramen. 

‘So your business is an exclusive boutique eco-hotel in Northern Costa Rica,’ you say, clarifying. 

‘The views of Nicaragua Lake are stunning at sunrise in the early morning,’ Taehyung offers. He sips his drink. 

‘How much truth is in that, Taehyung?’ you ask. 

‘Does it matter?’ Taehyung asks. ‘People love to invest in something sustainable.’ 

At your expression, he relents. ‘My mother loved Costa Rica,’ he says. ‘We went on a family holiday there once when I was a kid. I’ve never forgotten it.’ 

Using a grain of truth to make the lie more believable. You have to admit the man is clever. 

‘And you —’

‘My father worked with Starck, in Tokyo and Saint-Tropez,’ you tell him. ‘He set up his own architectural firm and I worked for him before the firm closed down a couple years ago.’ 

‘Family heritage,’ Taehyung muses. ‘I like it.’ 

You wait for him to ask how much of your story is true, but he doesn’t, simply hums and takes another slurp of noodles. 

The truth is, it’s all true. The only bit you left out was that your father was as crooked as he was brilliant, and when the biggest con of his career collapsed, it took your family’s reputation in the architectural world and your entire fortune with it. 

‘If we do this right, we’ll be set for life,’ Taehyung says. 

‘Or until we get bored,’ you say. 

Taehyung stretches. ‘Bored? I can see myself on a beach in Costa Rica. Sun, the rainforest, fish so fresh you can taste the ocean.’ 

He shrugs. ‘The only thing that would make it more perfect is you in a bikini, with me.’ 

You can’t deny the picture he paints is tempting, but you can’t let him have the last word. 

‘I prefer to sunbathe topless,’ you say, haughty. 

‘Even better,’ Taehyung agrees. 

He waggles his dark brows at you over his noodles. ‘Eat up, heiress. We have more work to do.’ 

***

You walk into the gym and look around for Taehyung. 

You spot him, flat on his back, near the weights. 

You march over to him. ‘Was this really necessary?’ you ask, exasperated. 

He grins up at you. ‘I like the view from under you like this.’ 

You give him a stern look as you try to suppress your reluctant smile. 

‘Spot me,’ he says, arms folding under the barbell. 

‘I won’t,’ you say, turning your back, crossing your arms. 

Taehyung laughs, grunts softly as he lifts the weight and places it back on the rack. 

He sits up, swats at your ass with the towel around his neck. ‘I gotta take a shower, wanna join me?’ 

‘You owe me dinner for making me wait on your ass,’ you say, sourly. 

Taehyung stands. You’d forgotten how tall he is. 

He tilts his head at you. ‘I’d wait as long as you wanted me to, for your ass,’ he says, the smoke in his voice making your toes curl. 

Thank god you’re wearing sneakers so he can’t see. 

‘Stop flirting with me and get showered. I have a date with a mark,’ you tell him. 

‘Ah,’ he says, softly. ‘That’s why you look so good.’ 

Heat passes between you as you lock eyes. 

‘Wouldn’t want to keep you from the hustle,’ he says. His voice has dropped so low you can barely hear him. 

His mouth is so close to your ear if you turned your head your lips would meet. 

You stay completely still. 

‘Like I said, you’re buying. I want sushi.’ 

His laughter echoes in your ear as he saunters away. 

You stare at his ass as he leaves. You can’t help it. 

Damn, the man looks good. 

***

There are two men in the room at this charity dinner who have seen pieces of the real you. 

One is Kim Taehyung, who you’ve not known for long but in some ways knows you better than some of these shallow acquaintances. 

One is Kim Namjoon, an artist and sculptor who’s just had shows in New York and Berlin, a renaissance man, a scion of an already prestigious family of publishers and artists. 

The man you’d dated for five years until you realised he was too good for you. 

Honest when you were duplicitous. 

Behaving with integrity when you were getting down and dirty. 

A man who recognises his own worth, secure in his position in the world, when your own world broke apart when your family company turned to existential rubble. 

Potato, potahto. 

Taehyung, beside you as your official date for this charity event, hands you a flute of champagne. 

‘Drink up,’ he says, brisk. ‘Then tell me why you look like you got slapped across the face when the Kims entered.’ 

You do as you’re told, downing the entire contents of the glass in one. 

Taehyung takes the empty glass from you and hands you his own. 

‘We have a job to do,’ he says, quietly. ‘So tell me if I need to keep Kim Namjoon away from you.’ 

His firm tone reminds you that it’s not just your own livelihood at stake, that you have an agreement and you depend on each other now. 

‘We dated. For a long time,’ you say, deciding to stick to the facts. 

‘And?’ Taehyung prompts, turning you gently to steer you away from a collision course with the Kims. 

‘But nothing. We broke up. He was —’ your voice wobbles unexpectedly. 

‘He was too good for me.’ 

Taehyung snorts, and his obvious incredulity makes you look up at him sharply. 

‘No one is too good for you,’ he says. ‘Also, you’re with me now. If you need out just say.’ 

‘I can’t leave you here.’ 

‘Who said I’d stay?’ Taehyung asks. He shrugs. ‘The food at these things is always shit. Let’s go get pizza.’ 

You stare at him, aghast at his casual attitude. 

‘We can’t leave, Taehyung, we need to be seen together. Extra credibility and all that. The Black and White Ball’s weeks away.’ 

Taehyung looks at you, dark eyes serious, patient. ‘No con is worth something that upsets you this much. You’re pale, and you look like you’re about to pass out.’ 

Your back straightens, and you take another gulp of champagne. 

‘I’m not going to pass out on you, Taehyung,’ you say, firmly. ‘We need this and I’m not going to let us down. Besides, I know him. He’d rather eat his own arm than behave inappropriately at an event like this.’ 

‘Like this?’ Taehyung asks, mildly, just as his hand settles on your ass over the silk of your gown. He cups and squeezes, firm.

You stumble a little, and your grip on his arm tightens. 

‘Are you wearing a bra? I think I just made your nipples hard,’ he says. 

You can’t help it. The giggles burst out of you, and with them, the biggest part of your anxiety over coming face to face with Kim Namjoon. 

Taehyung leans down, brushes a kiss over your parted lips. 

‘That’s my girl,’ he says. ‘It’s your call. We can work the room, or we can forget this and go and get pizza.’ 

‘Lee Seongho is over there,’ you say. ‘Let’s get to it.’ 

***

Taehyung’s with a group of well-known hoteliers, whilst you’re speaking to an up-and-coming tech entrepreneur who seems to be spending more time looking down the low neck of your dress than listening to what you’re saying. 

You summon what remains of your patience, look over at Taehyung again, who’s looking at you, brow raised inquiringly. 

He side-eyes the tech entrepreneur, Jacques, you think his name is, with a barely hidden disdain. 

You stifle a giggle and give Taehyung what you hope is a quelling look. 

A moment later he’s by your side, nodding politely at your companion. 

‘Apologies,’ he says. ‘My fiancee and I have a prior commitment.’ 

You walk away on Taehyung’s arm. 

‘When did we get engaged?’ you ask. 

‘I asked you to marry me when we were in Bruges,’ Taehyung says, mock-affronted. ‘How could you not remember?’ 

‘Why Bruges?’ you ask. 

‘Because you looked so beautiful as we walked along the Zwyn,’ Taehyung says. 

You’re still laughing as you round the bar and come face to face with Namjoon. 

The only visible reaction he displays is a slight tightening of his jaw, only evident to you because of how well you know him. 

‘Namjoon,’ you say, pleased that your voice is steady. ‘It’s lovely to see you.’ 

He introduces you to his companion, a very tall, stunning blonde dressed in green. 

As she offers you her hand, you notice the emerald ring on her engagement finger. 

Your heart jumps into your throat, and Taehyung steps in smoothly. 

‘I’m Taehyung,’ he says. 

You exchange niceties, the rest of the conversation is a blur but you’ve never worked so hard to not let any emotion show on your face. 

Then it’s over, and you’re grateful for the warmth of Taehyung’s arm around you as he walks you away. 

He leads you back to the cloakroom without you having to say a word, collects your coats, places yours around your shoulders, taking care with the buttons. 

Outside the hotel, a light snow’s falling, catching in his dark hair as he hails a taxi, gives the driver instructions. 

You don’t ask where you’re going. 

The journey isn’t long, probably twenty minutes or so. 

He holds your hand the whole time, helps you out of the taxi and into a building that is now dated but would have been stunning back when it was first built. 

He pushes the door to his apartment open, flicks on the light. 

It’s small but it’s warm, eclectic and so terribly him that you smile. 

Taehyung says, ‘I knew the food was going to be shit.’ 

His tone is disgruntled on the surface, and so, so, kind underneath that you reach up and touch his cheek. 

He stills under your fingers. 

You run your fingertips lightly over the faint stubble over his jaw, and he sighs, leaning into your touch. 

It’s more intimate than a kiss. 

‘I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not ready for,’ he tells you. 

Here, in his cosy apartment, you curl your hand around the nape of his neck and pull him closer to you. 

‘You never have,’ you agree. 

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but your lips meet his and it never gets said. 

Taehyung is a consummate liar, just like you, but you sense the truth in the way he touches you. 

Fingers sliding down your back, unzipping you so that your dress falls into a shining puddle on the floor. 

Hands over yours when you can’t get his shirt buttons undone quickly enough. 

He unbuckles his belt one handed, the other hand cupping your breast as he kisses you deeply. 

His tongue licks into your mouth, and the heat of him makes you shiver in his arms.

‘C’mere,’ he says, low, turning you around, walking you into his bedroom.

The hardness of him pressing into your ass makes you arch back into him.

The sheets of his bed would be cool against your heated skin if you weren’t pulled tight against him, almost on top of him.

‘Told you I like the view like this,’ he murmurs.

You settle on top of him, his torso between your thighs.

He drinks you in with a gaze so intense you can’t meet it, choosing instead to run your hands down his bare chest.

Underneath you, his cock lies against his flat abs, so hard that when you tug his briefs off he curls his hand around himself so he doesn’t hit you in the face.

‘I’m big,’ he says, almost bashful about it.

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

You lean down and take him in your mouth, letting saliva pool around him to ease the glide.

The blunt head of him nudges the back of your throat, making you tighten around him.

He’s still watching you intently, eyes aglow as you curl your fingers around the base of him.

His lips part, and instead of the teasing comment you expected, he says, ‘I can’t believe you’re here with me, like this.’

It’s unexpectedly sweet.

You can’t answer, not with him in your mouth, but you lick along the underside of him with the flat of your tongue, guided by the way his breathing quickens, the low groan he utters as you swirl your tongue.

You taste the salt of his pre-cum, swallow like you can’t get enough, and he says, ‘Wait.’

He tugs your hand. 

‘Come sit on my face.’

‘Don’t you want me to —‘

‘Hell yeah, I want it all,’ Taehyung says. ‘But we have time to do all that, any time you want. Any day you want. Come sit on my face first.’

He tugs you up, kisses up your thigh. His warm hands slide around to curl around your ass, holding you to him as he presses his open mouth to your core.

He licks at the arousal at your entrance, tongue delving in between your folds. Your eyes close involuntarily as he laps his tongue against your clit, flicking back and forth in a slow, maddening rhythm.

You’re wet, so wet, between his mouth and your own arousal.

Taehyung grunts, tugs you closer still, buries his nose and mouth between your spread legs. He licks, swallows, and your hips move involuntarily.

He hums his approval into your cunt, and your hips move again. 

‘That’s it,’ you think he says, but he’s muffled, mouth and tongue working to get you off.

The heat low down in your lower belly ignites into a flame as he presses his lips to your clit, sucking, flicking with his tongue.

You realise you’ve got your hand pressed to your mouth so you don’t scream.

‘Ngh, fuck, Taehyung!’

His eyes meet yours, the intent in them so blatant you’re catapulted into your orgasm, the need for release flipping into a burst of pleasure so intense there are stars behind your closed eyelids.

Taehyung tugs you down under him, floppy like a rag doll from your release.

You can feel his hand working between your bodies, stroking himself frantically, and you part your legs.

‘Inside, fuck, inside,’ you say, your voice hoarse, husky.

Taehyung groans, positions himself at your entrance.

‘This what you want?’ he asks.

In response, you reach around his ass and pull him into you, both of you gasping as he fills you, sinks in to the hilt.

‘Move,’ you cry, but he’s already doing it, slow thrusts that fill you almost all the way, dragging himself out, panting in your ear.

This time it’s you who reaches down between your bodies, fingers spreading over where you’re joined, stroking over your clit.

Taehyung looks down, groans and shudders. ‘Fuck, you’re so hot.’

You can feel him getting harder, thicker as he moves.

‘Gonna —-‘

If he finishes his sentence you sure as hell don’t hear it because you’re coming again, pulsing around his cock as he fills you with his warmth.

He keeps moving, hips circling like he doesn’t want to stop, kissing your face, until you can feel him softening inside you.

Finally, he collapses next to you, flat on his back.

It’s a moment before either of you speak.

‘Did you mean what you said about doing this again?’ you ask.

The question hangs in the dark between you.

Taehyung rolls over onto his side to face you.

His smile is blinding. 

‘I’m going to need time to recharge before we go again.’

It’s not the question you asked, and you think he knows that.

For the first time since you met him, you’re not sure how truthful he’s being, and you’re not sure you want to ask.

***

It’s been three weeks since you and Taehyung fucked, and if you’re being partially honest with yourself, things between you are the same as they always were before you fucked.

He’s still flirty and suggestive and makes you laugh.

He’s as beautiful as he ever was.

If you’re being completely truthful?

Everything’s changed.

He’d never answered your question properly, and you haven’t talked about what happened that night.

You’d woken in the morning to the lingering scent of sex and his cologne in the sheets, but he’d been gone.

You’d left too, there hadn’t been any messages on your phone and you’d felt like a stranger in his empty apartment.

You’re at a final fitting for your dress for the Black and White Ball when your phone rings.

It’s Taehyung.

‘Can I see your dress?’ he asks.

‘You’ll see it tonight,’ you remind him.

‘I’m bored, come hang out with me.’

‘I need to get ready.’

‘You could walk in there right now and still be the most beautiful person in the room,’ he coaxes.

You roll your eyes at his over the top flattery. 

‘I have time for coffee,’ you say.

Taehyung ends up coming to meet you at your apartment. 

‘What are you going to do after tonight?’ he asks.

You shrug. ‘I’m going to go away for a bit, see what happens. Visit my mum for Christmas, maybe. Travel. You?’

‘Same. Get out of town for a while, whilst the heat dies down. I’ve always wanted to be somewhere hot at Christmas.’

You’re distracted by a tiny scuff on the heel of the shoes you’re wearing tonight.

There’s a studied casualness to his tone when he says, ‘Costa Rica’s great this time of year.’

Your eyes meet his.

‘It’s rainy season, I heard,’ you reply.

You sense the question he hasn’t asked, but the memory of being in his bed and the uncertainty you felt floats into your head.

You need to hear him say it.

He’s still looking at you.

In the end, neither of you say anything.

Maybe it’s for the best.

***

The Black and White Ball is exactly how you envisioned it would be. 

You’re on Taehyung’s arm as you walk into the ballroom. He’s wearing all black, and he looks devastatingly handsome. 

You catch him staring at you, more than once. 

‘Something on my face?’ you ask. 

‘Just your face,’ Taehyung answers. He grins crookedly at you. ‘You’re perfect.’ 

You’re greeted by the Phans, an influential media family, as though you have every right to be here. 

Like the two of you are legitimate members of high society instead of two confidence tricksters, two con artists about to perform the heist of the century. 

Taehyung nudges you like he knows what you’re thinking. 

‘Four hours, and we’ll have pulled it off. Want a lift to the airport?’ 

‘I always wanted to fuck in a limo,’ you say, thoughtfully. 

Taehyung nods at a prominent hotelier in greeting. ‘I’m down with that,’ he whispers into your ear. 

You laugh, but it’s bittersweet. 

You have no idea what you and Taehyung will be after tonight, you’ve been working together and planning this for so long that you’ve only got the vaguest plan beyond it. 

‘There’s a beach in Guanacaste with white sand and a horizon that feels like it stretches to the end of the world,’ Taehyung tells you. 

He says, ‘I’ll be there on Christmas day with a Mai Tai.’ 

‘Just the one?’ you ask, teasing, smiling at the old-money contingent of elderly ladies who are beckoning you over. 

Taehyung waits until you’re looking at him. ‘One for each of us,’ he says. 

Then he smiles, and you don’t have time to reply before the Cousteaus are upon you, eager for someone who can speak French like you do, courtesy of your time in France when your father was working with Starck. 

Taehyung helps you work the room like he always does, and if there’s an added reverence to the way he’s looking at you tonight, you can’t dwell on it now. 

You both have a job to do. 

It’s only when people start to leave that you turn to him again. 

‘I like mojitos,’ you say. 

Taehyung’s smile could light up the room. ‘Yeah?’ 

‘Yeah. Want to go get pizza?’ 

You end up in some tiny hole-in-the-wall pizza joint sharing a bottle of Merlot Taehyung took from a table as you left the ball. 

It’s the best pizza you’ve ever had. 

***

The blue of the Pacific will be blinding later, but just after sunrise, it’s beautiful in a way that makes your heart ache. 

You turn your head as Taehyung approaches, chest bare, towel slung low round his hips. 

He offers you one of the cocktails he’s carrying, and you burst out laughing as you accept. 

‘It’s a little early for cocktails, Tae.’ 

Taehyung smiles. This close, you can see the dusting of freckles on his shoulders, the golden gleam to his skin from sunning himself. 

He smells like sun, and sex, and you. 

‘It’s Christmas,’ he says. ‘There are no rules.’ 

‘This definitely beats the cold,’ you say. ‘Merry Christmas, Tae.’ 

Taehyung leans back on his hands as you climb on top of him, tilting his head up for a kiss. 

Underneath your tiny bikini his cock stirs, and you feel a throb of arousal even though it’s been barely hours since you last fucked. 

‘Again, Tae?’ you ask, as his hands go to your hips. 

‘Again,’ he agrees. ‘As long as you’ll have me.’ 

©hamsterclaw 2023

[pieroulette]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐬: 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝟐

2023 | 18+ | SERIES | ENHYPEN OT6 × READER | MASTERLIST

SUMMARY with the absolute order from the highest celestials, six high ranking angels were sent to capture and condemn you—an exceedingly sinful and overpowering succubus to the holy tower for eternity. Capturing you might not be so difficult with them outnumbering you, but the question is; would they be able to keep ignoring your irresistible charms while staying firm to their principles, abiding by the rules, and reciting their prayers forever?

GENRE angels and demons au, romance, reverse harem, angst, fluff, smut

WORD COUNT 2.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE this will be the last teaser for this series. By the time I released Route 1's finale, and the first episode of Royal Series. I'll start working on this EP which is the first day of July.

Bounding you inside the holy tower, on the round glowing pattern that had you kneeling down with your wrist, neck, and legs all tangled with the rusty metal collar that prevented you from escaping was quite an easy feat for them. However the powerful ritual spell that they formed together by infusing their respective powers on you had them vomiting out blood causing them to grow unbelievably weak. For a couple of minutes bounding you with their entire strength, they thought they could’ve died at that moment, but fortunately they didn’t.

Atleast that’s what Sunoo thought, as he playfully twirls his bead necklace as he watched you on your knees yet sleeping peacefully, a sight that he hadn’t expected to be quite captivating to him, to say the least. He frowned at that very thought, wondering if you had any power left in you as the holy tower was designed to pinned your spells down, so there’s no way he could be affected by you, right?

He had been assigned by Heeseung to watched over you for a whole month before they completely seal you in this tower for eternity, and suck your remaining power out of your cultivation. The rest of the five are to recuperate in their respective quarters to regain their power and cultivate so they are able to completely overpower you and not to fall upon the same fate that day.

Sunoo lowered himself down, taking a seat on the floor as he placed his chin on his hand, tilting his head as he memorise your features. He thought that you truly live up to your status as a succubus, for you were truly enchanting. The fact that you once live in heaven was quite shocking to him, he wondered what could’ve you done to have the gods banishing you. Sure, he knew the list of what could one do to receive such punishment, but curious he was about what you truly did.

You’ve been sleeping for way too long, Sunoo thought as he lets out a dejected sigh—seemingly disappointed. It has been nearly two weeks since he was here, but you’ve never open your eyes, and the first and last time he had communicated with you was only on the day they were trying to capture you.

For awhile, he had a slight urge to tuck your hair strands covering your face behind your ear but refused to do so as it would be unnecessary.

But he remembered your words, a faint blush dusting over his fair cheeks and he immediately cupped his cheeks with his hands, feeling the sensation—heating up due to his unusual thoughts. Shaking his head and cringing, he’s only being affected by you for being in your presence for too long, that must be the answer, isn’t?

The sound of rattling chains had him alerted, immediately turning his head towards your eyes opened, the strand of your hair falling down your cheek as you look up to him. His lips hang apart, unsure of how to act, but the fact that he was stuttering had him mentally slapping himself. What was he suppose to do now that you were awake? Talk to you or what? You don’t need food either, when you actually feed on..

“Boy, why don’t you come over here?” his head grew dazed for a split second, and his feet betraying him against his will before he froze. Wait, you can’t be having any power left in you. So why was he getting affected? He stood there contemplating of what to do, and finally coming into conclusion that he shall stay silent while watching over you.

Of course, him staying silent was met with a twitch on your eyebrow—annoyed you were. You truly were unable to do anything but wait for the day you’re going to be sealed here forever.

“Are you shy?” You asked, and the boy raise his foxy eyes on you along with his eyebrow. “Because if you weren’t, you would be talking with me, you know.”

Again, he remain silent.

You lazily look up to the ceiling of the tower, letting out a long exaggerated sigh. “It’s so boring here, truly boring.”

Sunoo scoffed, thinking of how you truly deserve such condemnation for committing sinful acts that he lets out not one but a whole sentence. “That’s what you deserve for being sinful.”

The corner of your red lips pulled up, “Don’t you wonder what kind of sin I had committed, though?”

“I am not curious even a single bit. Keep it to yourself.”

“Aw, are you trying to be like that feisty angel with you that day?” You cooed which had his eyebrows knitting in disbelief. “I could applaud you, but if you ask me, you’d appear alot more adorable with your lips on mine.” brushing your finger against your lips you did, and Sunoo look away not showing any reaction as he unfortunately realise you were playing tricks on him.

Another week had passed, and Sunoo couldn’t wait for another seven days as you constantly barged him his peace of mind with questions that had him biting his lip to the point it left a mark. Seven more days, seven more days, pressing his eyes tight as he constantly repeated it in his mind along with prayers for God to give him strength and patience. Yet the obnoxious devil you were, cause him to hissed.

“Can’t you shut your mouth for once?!” veins popped on the side of his neck as he gritted his teeth.

“Are you angry?” You asked with a mischievous smirk on your lips. Sunoo ruffled through his hair, knowing very well that you were testing him and playing all sorts of tricks on him and yet despite being aware of it, he couldn’t help but finally react even after days of remaining calm.

Tightening his fist, he glared at you. “You’re truly filthy, aren’t you? No wonder the gods tremendously loathed you cause you can’t keep your filthy mouth shut, and that you don’t even deserve a place in heaven.”

Ouch, that somehow raises a slight irritation in you, you gotta admit—that your playful smirk dissipates and your seductive eyes was replaced with an expression Sunoo couldn’t fathom.

Biting your thumb under your lower lip, you scoffed at him. “A place in heaven? No thanks, I couldn’t last even a second in that so-called heaven of yours. That gods you so adore till the last breath of your life, are you that oblivious to think that they’re always free from filth and sin?”

Sunoo raises his eyebrow, “What? If you’re trying to stain the god’s name with your filthy tongue, then that won’t work on me. They’re far more virtuous than you are, they’re—”

“Oh please, keep indulging yourself in such illusion, I’ll be your guest. But–” you playfully pouted, “It hurts a tad bit to see my favourite angel get fooled, after all, it’s such a waste to see such an angel like you serving such double-faced gods.”

Sunoo didn’t know how to react with your choice of words, how was he supposed to? His mind urge him to put you in your place after insulting the gods, another urging him to simply just stay silent till the day of the retribution, but deep behind his ribs—that heart of his grew rampant much to his utter surprise. He despised how great of an effect you had on him that he didn’t say anything and left, breaking the rule that all of them six had agreed on.

He couldn’t care any less, he just wanted to be free for a moment. It’s not like you could escape with the spell they casted on you, or the holy tower bounding you inside it.

His wings fluttered through the sky, his feet landing on top of the clouds as he puffed into a series of emotions—his mind was consumed by your words—your existence itself cause him utter annoyance, but the mixture of an emotion he knew was wrong was arising. Was he being fooled? When you uttered those words with those seductive eyes softening for a split of second had him felt as if you were truly being genuine to him, but then you must be only fooling him and he’s evidently falling for you.

Sunoo truly broke the agreement he had with his brothers, as for the remaining six days—he didn’t watch over you as to avoid any wreck on his peace of mind and emotions, and only return on the day of the retribution.

He had decided to arrive more early than his brothers to make it seem like that he was truly doing his task aka watching over you. When he arrive, he expected you be awake and try to seduce him with your bold words but you were once again in your deep slumber much to his surprise. Beyond relief he was that the holy tower was still functioning and that you truly were unable to do anything to escape.

But Sunoo felt a slight pang in his heart as his foxy eyes fell on you longer than he expected, his feet approaching you, crouching down as he took a closer look at your face—he truly thinks you look alot more innocent while with your eyes closed, your eyelashes fluttering slightly which makes him wonder if you were dreaming and if so, what dream you were having?

He wondered what kind of life you had before you became a succubus, were you an angel just like them? And did you live a diligent life and abide by the rules before falling into darkness? And what have you possibly done that you became like the way you are right now?

He was curious, unbelievably curious as another question rose one after another the more his eyes fixated on your slumber. However a shiver run down his spine when dust particles of crimson he recognised floated in his peripheral vision, long finger wrapping around his neck before he could react and see who it was. He lets out a series of gasp, and a breathe hitched down his throat when your eyelashes fluttered against his in a dangerous proximity.

It can’t be? It can’t be! Sunoo screamed at his mind, strings of inaudible words left his lips as he breathe out in fear, his hand trembling on the marble floor as you were on top of him, your wrist and neck free from the metal chains and collars, your ruby orbs looking down at him with expressions he knew would be his last sight to look upon before you rip him apart.

What a joke, he can’t believe you will be the last thing he will ever saw before he’s gone. A part of him incredibly loathes it, he hated how his death would be cause by a demon, to crumble pathetically before a demon that his pride as an angel—as one of the high ranking angels with his brothers, all had gone to the drain. Sunoo felt as if he didn’t deserve to be an angel at that very moment, that he deserves nothing but to receive punishment for breaking a promise, a rule, an agreement with his brothers. That he doesn’t actually belong with the glowing light amongst his brothers, however as much as hollow he had been, he should be alerting his brothers of you right now, he should—but, but..

The way your lips brushes against his cheek as you brushed his silk hair had his rampant mind engulfed with peace. A sense of peace that felt wholly different to the peace he had cultivated in the thousand years of his life.

The way you caressed his face as if he was fragile cause wonders to his emotions, the way your orbs look deep into his soul as if he was so delicate to you had him wondering just what you are up to? Weren’t you going to kill him? To rip him to pieces to show the heavens how exceedingly powerful you are?

“Just.. k-kill me now. What are y-you still w-waiting for?” The tremendous weight of your aura had him stuttering in a ghost-quiet whisper, truly proving how very well he knew that he isn’t comparable to your strength. He wishes for his death to be swift and painless, despite knowing that you must’ve been irritated for how he treated you for a whole month.

Because why wouldn’t you? You belong to the underworld, with those nasty wicked demons and creatures just like you are, your own kind. The very fate you put yourself into. Sunoo could only wonder just how many souls you had uttered vile and unholy words from the tongue you were lapping on your red lips right now. Thinking of it cause his heart to quenched in pain, but, what was he even thinking?

“Why would I?” You brushed his soft pink lips with your thumb, “When I already told you that you’re my favourite angel? Killing you would be such a waste.”

“What?” His eyes widened, lips hanging apart in disbelief. Your red orb sparked in flames when you saw the chance, pushing in your thumb into his mouth and exploring his cheeks causing him to gagged. Sunoo was beyond shock as he tasted your thumb on his tongue, he was supposed to use his powers on you right now considering how you were fixated with your thumb in his lips, however he remain still—a part of him begging for him to let this moment to last a bit more, to let you use him as your toy.

“Do you like it?”

“H-huh?” Sunoo fell deeper into this loophole of sinful desires the longer you were on top of him, the taste of your thumb in his mouth, the sensation of your other hand wrapping around his neck suffocating him from oxygen. You pulled out your thumb from his lips, leaning in closer as you lapped your tongue on the saliva that were dripping on the corners of his lips before pulling him into a long, deep kiss.

Sunoo’s eyes widened in utter surprise, as he tasted your lips dancing against his—perfectly moulding and emitting a loud pop everytime you pulled away for a oxygen—leaving a long string of saliva as you did so. That leaves him to desire for your lips more, he had never felt this sensation ever in his thousand years of life. Your scent, your lips, your existence itself drove Sunoo to a state of drunkenness—his mind consumed nothing but you. “P-please kiss me again.”

Your lips pulled in the widest big smirk, cooing over how adorable he was for begging you—the delicate innocent angel that tried his best to fought his desires for you are now in tangled in the crimson strings you laid out for him. “Of course, why not, my angel?”

Sunoo felt as if he belonged to you when you uttered those words, a sense of belonging he only felt amongst his brothers. Your hands made its way to the buttons of his shirt, sneakily unbuttoning each one of them and yet he happily let you as he indulged in your own world that you bestow upon him.

The sound of heavy fluttering wings had his eyes widened in horror, as he saw his brother Sunghoon standing in the distance, “Sunoo! What do you think you’re doing?!” with his mouth gaping at what he had seen in front of him. Dread consumed Sunoo's insides, what would his brother think of him letting a succubus used him like a pleasure toy? What would he think now of him? Would he be banish from heaven too?

Dozens of questions arise in Sunoo's head but somehow something was quite different as he sensed the odd demeanour Sunghoon has in him, his brother's form frozen and his fists tightening as if he refused to use his power against... You.

With you still on top of him, Sunoo lazily fixes his posture and wrapped his right arm around your hips—pulling you closer as his attention remain on his brother, eyebrows knitting together in curiosity and confusion, and annoyance.

“What? Are you jealous?”

「 © talesofyuan on tumblr 2023 」 all rights reserved. do not copy or post without permission.

TAGLIST: @xxvyjoy @0102luvr @nyeonglover @hoonlv @bwljules @weyukinluv

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

chapter two

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: a contains violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: not proof read. sinag’s chapter will usually have 2k-3k words. i'm sorry if there’s grammatical errors. enjoy reading and my ask are open for your messages. thank you so much!

© eeunoia 2023 — all rights reserved.

here ‹ chapter one | chapter three › here

“Calm down, Kwon.” a man wearing a formal attire focused his eyes at the scene beneath him, standing proudly in front of the big glass windows of his office. He holds a cup of whiskey on his hand, the other one inside his pockets.

“Calm down?” his tone frantic as he slightly slams the coffee table near him. His fists balled, jaw clenching feeling perturbed by the situation they’re tangled in.

“Your son is uncontrolled! This arrangement was long overdue! You know we already need to do something about this.” he added.

The man remained calmed and collected despite his opposite demeanor. He went here out of frustrations in hope to come up with a solution for their problem and all he gets is a couple words of consolement. If anything, that's the last thing he needs.

“I am doing my best to convince my son, Luis.” he slowly turns to face the raging man. The placid look on his face pretty much mirrors the same with the young mafia boss they are discussing about. The main reason of their distress and troubled affairs.

“You out of all people knows that convincing your son is already out of the choices.” the man stoods and stares straight to his eyes.

“He’s stubborn and proud.”

“Mainly why we shouldn’t act repulsively. Sunghoon knows when to play his cards and is not stupid.” he took a quick sip from his glass and pursed his lips into a thin line.

“He is unpredictable and moves only to his demand. He was never born to be controlled. He's my own flesh and blood afterall.” the proud smile spreads across his face that only adds to Mr. Kwon’s anger.

“But he’s now going crazy over some girl? Is this the same boy you are blabbering about?” the man scoffs that faded the smirk on Mr. Park’s face.

“If we cannot do anything with your son might as well start by getting rid of that girl.” the look on his face were shameless. The way he talks was too casual that you’ll think he’s just commanding a luggage to be discarded somewhere.

“We have to find her before he does.” he fixed his coat while still keeping his dark, serious gazes over Mr. Park.

“In order to solve the problem, we need go dispose the one causing them.” he stated with firmness to his tone indication of want on immediate action.

“I will expect a bigger progress soon, Steven.” he starts heading towards the door, one of his man held it for him. He stops from his tracks and craned his neck to the man by the windows, “I’m not a very forgiving and patient person. You know that.”

He left the room and Mr. Park was lost with his own thoughts. His emotions at a mess that rarely happens. The lack of sense in the current situation was very unusual of him. All he can think of is his son and the tangled connection link between the Kwon family.

From the plane to your way to the hotel, you are well taken care of. The stress and worries you’ve been feeling when you stepped at the airport hours ago were vanished into thin air. It was crazy and you can’t even believe that you’re actually thinking that this trip isn’t so bad at the moment. Like as if you aren’t the same girl in distress for being sent over for this.

“This way to your room, Madam.” one hotel staff guides you in this beautiful suite. It was a hug room with a breathtaking view of the city beneath you.

The streets are busy, people rushing towards somewhere, cars honking at each other but it didn’t spoil the ambiance of the place. You giggled and eyes shut for a couple seconds, embracing the breeze blowing towards you. It surely gives off a different vibe, the feeling of being new to the place slowly gets into your system.

Scary, but thrilling. You are feeling anxious and all but staying in a fancy hotel with a rowdy surrounding rather than secluded villa sure comforts you a thousand times better.

You are snapped out from your trance when you remembers the main agenda of your trip. Letting out a strained sigh, you walked towards your bag to fish out the well planned schedule that was prepared for you. It’s like a list of things to be accomplished along the trip. It sounds like something not of a big deal since this is a business trip afterall, but the amount is what’s gets you. Thankfully, they did left your first day vacant.

Another strained sigh liberates out from you, making your lungs feel more lighter. So much for enjoying this trip. You tried to find the brighter side of it. The things you will learn from the seminars and basically from the experience here will be much to your gain.

You ordered room service for lunch and decided to rest for a bit before roaming around near the hotel for the rest of the day. The next day, its work day so while waiting for your first agenda, you ordered food for lunch. If the place was great, of course the food was fantastic. It is expected and it didn’t disappoint. You enjoyed your meal and soon starts preparing for your errands.

Today’s task is an uncomplicated one. Pretty much a warm up for the upcoming busy two weeks of your stay here. You dress up cutely and comfortably before deciding on heading downstairs to ask the lobby for some directions.

On the other hand, multiple cars parked right in front of the hotel. People’s eyes darted curiously at the scene, some chooses to continue their day after watching for a while. Sunghoon went out of his black range rover and dominantly roams his eyes around, causing the lingering eyes of some individuals to tear away.

His intimidating aura just causes some to even stop at their tracks and give way to the handsome man. He didn’t give any care and went inside along with some of his men, tossing his car keys to the valley incharge without sparing him a glance. The boy bowed paying his respect, slightly anxious not to do any mistake.

Arriving at the hotel lobby, staffs bows as he walks by. It didn’t stop people to stare at him. His face is not one to be missed anyway.

His men clicks the elevator open and Sunghoon steps inside. After pressing the floor where his room was booked, the door closes. The people who's about to ride the elevator hesitates and decided not to join him.

As the door of the elevator closes, the one beside opens and you steps outside. Smiling to the people waiting just in front of it. They seem fazed about something that made you curious. Your eyes looks at the elevator beside you, but it was close and the lights above says its moving up the building.

Dismissing that matter, you shrug off your shoulders and walks towards the lobby to go ask for directions.

Sunghoon sighs and walks outside the elevator when he arrived the floor. The hallway was empty.

“What are you doing here?” his jaw clenches and his fist balled tightly at the sight of a man sat comfortably in the middle of the room.

He’s alone, at least here inside, and a glass of whiskey sat near him on a coffee table. The man smiles a little and opens his arms as a welcoming gesture.

Sunghoon furrowed his brows and kept his unamused expression.

“Is that how you greet your dad?” his Dad crosses his legs and gave him this stare.

Despite feeling so angry, Sunghoon grinned.

“Dad?” he scoffs. “Since when did you act like one?” his rude words pricks something inside Mr. Park’s chest, but he knew he was in no place to complain.

He took part on why Sunghoon became like this. He was part of his dark childhood that led him to be ruthless. He may feel sorry right now, but there’s nothing he can do about it anymore. All there’s left was to convince him over to do the arrangement and save him from any possible outrage of the Kwon family.

“Son,” he calls, tone longing.

Sunghoon face reflects disgust at what he heard. “Don’t you dare call me that.” he coldly rejects.

“What are you doing here? How did you know that I’m here?” his questions are full of suspicion for the older man. This isn’t the first time he did this, but its still so odd that he couldn’t help to not let his guard down.

“I’m here to talk to you.” he answers one of it, but leaves out one. It didn’t slipped off from Sunghoon and sure he isn’t someone to disregard it as well.

“There’s nothing to talk about with you.” he grunts, letting him know that there is no way he can expect him to cooperate.

He turns his heels and was about to head out when his father talks once again.

“Marry Luna.” his words were short and direct.

Sunghoon halt from his steps and the crease to his forehead disappears along the emotions in his eyes.

He slowly craned his neck to look at his dad.

“Didn’t Mr. Kwon told you what we talked about the last time he went to see me?” he smirks with no humor.

“Please, son. That is planned ahead even before you’re even born.”

“If you’re too desperate in making her marry a Park, why not you do it?” he suggests in complete taunt.

“Park Sunghoon!” his Father shouts.

Seeing his father lose composure and frustrated like this, sooths something in Sunghoon. It feels something accomplishing in some part of him. He smirks unbothered of his Father’s threatening tone.

“This will be the last time you and Mr. Kwon will bother me about this stupid marriage.” he states, back to being very serious. His eyes dark, almost mirroring his father’s.

“It will never happen. He can have a gun pointed at my head during the wedding and I still won’t say ‘I do’.” he smoothly puts his hands inside his pocket.

“Don’t make me do something you will regret. Stop pushing my buttons,” Sunghoon tilts his head. “... Dad.”

Mr. Park was lost of words. He felt shivers run his spine at how cold his tone was. He can’t remember when he became like this. What did he do for him to end up like the cold ruthless person he is right now?

His mind was occupied for a while before he snaps back to his senses. He sighed and rest his back on the chair before massaging his temple. He expects no easy way to convince Sunghoon into this. And as much as he hates how Mr. Kwon last resort of solution to their problem, he was left with no other choice.

He’s doing this for his son.

He fished his phone from his pocket and dials someone’s phone number. “Did you ask the lobby about a reservation under the name Aelia Choi.”

He waits for the response of his assistant from the other line. He received a tip that Sunghoon gathers info that the girl he’s searching for are booked in this hotel. He figured his son will come here to search for her so he decided to take the opportunity of talking to him.

“There’s none, Sir.”

His brows furrowed, a little confused. Disappointed for probably another false information. A part of him felt sympathy for his son, he’s been searching for her and still no concrete leads of her whereabouts. Another, felt relieved. He can’t comprehend what crazy things his son can do for this girl. He can only mean bad for him. If he’s this wreckless for her right now, what more if he found her.

“All right, ready my vehicle.” he commands and ended the call.

After asking for details and asking assistance for your ride to the city. Waiting patiently, your brows furrowed curiously at the sight of men in black appearing the hotel’s lobby. They aren’t that many, but enough to catch attention. Their black similar uniforms sure captures people’s curiosity.

The view makes you remember of a particular night of your life. It makes you nervous, pressing your lungs and light pinches to your heart. It wasn’t pleasant for you so you quickly glanced away and move towards a more isolated part of the hotel.

From a distance, you watch how they move in an organize manner. It was evident how disciplined and well connected they are to each other. Their built and postures sure insinuates how dutiful they are. It seems like they are there to protect someone. Someone very important.

Everybody went back to normal once they left the premises. You can hear some of them still talks about the said person that just left. Uninterested, you walks towards the lady at the front desk.

“Can I ask a room service once I get back?” you ask smiling. The lady returns and smiled warmly at you.

“Under what name of reservation?” she asks.

“Oh, under Mr. (boss name).” you pursed your lips as she tries to check something on her computer. Patiently, you roam your eyes around the hotel lobby.

You noticed another group of men wearing suits pretty similar to the ones from before. This time, you saw the man walking in between them. He seemed like a very powerful man. His hair perfectly fixed, some gray strands can be seen even from the distance but it didn’t make him look that old. If anything, he looks like a Dad of a very attractive offsprings.

You didn’t realized you’ve been staring too much. Thankfully, the lady at desk calls your attention. The moment you looked away, the man gazed at you. Both of you clueless about how each other will soon make a big change to your lives, missed the opportunity to meet due to uncertain timing

“What time will you be back for the room service, Ma’am?” she asked.

You gave her the time you possibly back from your errands. Thanking her softly before going on with your day, unaware of what lies ahead of you.

“Hello, Riki?”

He heard some muffled sound from the other line, “Yeah, hyung?” the younger one responds.

“I think there’s a rat in my men. They’ve been snitching on my Dad about my whereabouts.” he continuously says in a cold tone. He’s not yet sure if hes right, but what could possibly the reason of the unexpected appearance of his father?

He’s very strict on sharing infos of his life, specially when it involves about his search of you.

“I want you to find who it is and report back to me.”

“On it.” he replies and chuckles. “This is not free, hyung.” the younger one teased.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “Just send me the bill.” and he ends the call before resting his back on his chair.

He’s inside his private jet. He went straight here after the encounter with his dad. The pilot waits for his command to fly and go back, but for some reason he felt something’s stopping him.

The plan of searching for you at this place sure is already sabotaged. He hope what they received was just a false information or else he will make his Dad pay for missing you once again. He tries hard to convince himself that its also probably his father who tipped him so he can have time to talk. But he can’t get rid of the thought that you might be near him. It’s making him suffer.

He have no idea how many times he will feel this way in the future, but he doesn’t care. He will never stop looking for you, even if it means he have to spend his whole life hoping that you two will meet again without a definite certainty that it’ll happen.

here ‹ chapter one | chapter three › here

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[ace-of-spaders]

*taps the mic and laughs nervously because of the major stage fright*

Lizzington shippers, fam, grandmas and grandpas, can I have a moment of your attention, please?

It's not a secret that, while some people in Lizzington community are still active, whether they write or make gifs or keep our dash full of Lizzington even in this trying times ( @melbob26-blog, thank you for this! ), Lizzington community as a whole went into hibernation over the last couple of years.

And I get it, interests change, especially when one show ends and there's another ongoing, moving on from the show that ended is totally natural, especially when it didn't give your favorite characters the happy ending they deserved.

I get it.

Hell, for a pretty lengthy while there I focused on other ships and shows, too, especially after TBL ended ended last year.

But you know what I realized earlier today, when I reread some of the old fics, browsed through gifsets and text posts, watched some fanvids?

It's the show that ended, for some in 2021, for others in 2023. And the only thing that means is that it cannot disappoint us anymore.

( it's not like we were suddenly deprived of quality content, because let's face it, the fans have been the main source of the quality lizzington content for years now, while the show gave us mere crumbs, on a good day )

But Red and Liz?

They are still out there, fighting criminals, catching Blacklisters, travelling the world, shamelessly flirting, toppling shadow organizations, raising Agnes and/or any other children they have, and generally being the sexy badass power couple they are!

Nothing changed in that regard.

So why would we mourn them, when they are out there, healthy and happy and in the middle of yet another adventure? I'm sure right this moment Red is drawing Liz into another one of his heists and she's only too happy to join him, even though she pretends that she's not, for the sake of the game.

There's literally no reason for us to stop writing, giffing, editing, sharing theories and headcanons and memes and just talking about our favorite couple.

And by writing all of this, I want to propose something daring to you:

Let's revive the Lizzington community!

Let's rewatch earlier seasons and gif the hell out of them because it's been a while and because precious moments between these two are not going to become less precious even if it's giffed 10 or 100 more times, not to mention that ever gifmaker's style is different, so there are virtually no two identical gifsets as there are no two identical snow flakes.

Let's make fanvideos, picspams, picture edits, fanart, moodboards! The amount of songs, quotes, moments etc that can inspire you is virtually endless!

Let's write fics, let's explore AUs, let's give each other prompts and challenge each other to try something new or practice some aspect of writing, like writing kisses or AUs or hugs or making up Blacklisters etc!

Let's share headcanons and theories and ideas and what our versions of Red and Liz are like, because everyone has their own unique versions of Red and Liz living in their head, and it's just beautiful, if you ask me!

Let's reblog stuff, filling each other's dashes with Lizzington!

Let's scream about Lizzington because no one does it like them!

Let's revive the Lizzington Community, we all miss it!

PS. Feel free to reblog this post – spread the suggestion!)

PPS. To assure you that I'm not the type of person who encourages others but doesn't do anything themselves, I can tell you I've already got some ideas for a couple of Lizzington events in mind. Those include challenges, thematic weeks etc.

PPPS. I'm not sure how many people are checking the tags these days, so I'm gonna tag some people I know under the cut, just in case, to spread the suggestion. If you weren't tagged, trust me, it's nothing personal!

@meetmeatthecoda @iwouldlovetoeatyourtoast @agxntkeen @factoseintolerant @tale-xistime @james-baeder @lettie1609 @withwhatiam @peace-love-on-planet-earth @missourired @felilaprivada @strawberry-pills @roominthecastle @codewordpumpkin @my-robot-heart @kitkate91060 @imyourplusone @shelly1952 @itsjustme-itsmylife @castle2cute @nancyjocom @cress-26 @lunaarlilacs @femaleoptimistic @scifi-gk @greeneyedsoul88 @figureofdismay @shippinglizzington @kissthefuture @thetwistedargent @actuallylorelaigilmore @sorrydearie @turningtimeinthetardis @buildinggsr @apicturewithasmile @windfalling @piketrickfeet

[tropes-and-tales]

Sweet Like Candy

Day 5:  Sex pollen (Horacio Carrillo x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Dub-con due to sex pollen trope; smut (PiV, unprotected); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4990

AN:  This was requested by an anon with an excellent memory who remembered when I mentioned a sex pollen Carrillo piece in passing! Also, not edited. I'm sick and barely ran it through spell-check.

It’s Carrillo’s fault, this entire terrible situation.

If he hadn’t been so severe when he first met you, he could have a genial working relationship with you.  You wouldn’t have been afraid of him from the start.  You would have been willing to work directly with him, handed off your lab reports directly instead of filtering them through Peña and Murphy, through Trujillo.

He wouldn’t have gotten grief from Peña to try and make peace with you.  He wouldn’t have gone to visit you, a play at being a softer, kinder Carrillo who perhaps smiles and says thank you for all of your exemplary work.

He wouldn’t have found himself in your lab on this day—the day you’re running tests on a separate case for the Medellín police, separate from the Search Bloc and its pursuit of Escobar. Not testing cocaine at all:  a scatter of innocuous-seeming candy in your workspace.  Supercoco—chewy caramel with coconut pieces folded in. 

Any Colombian recognizes the green wrapper.  Carrillo smiles to see it, slips a couple of pieces into his pocket when you turn away for a moment.

Only this isn’t Supercoco.  It’s a version infused with the distillation of a plant found in the Amazon, then wrapped in the familiar green paper.  A powerful love drug, an aphrodisiac, passed on the sly in the bars and night clubs of Medellín.

It’s Carrillo’s fault.  He’d been so severe when he met you, he tries to make amends now by being casual.  You stare at him as though he has two heads as he asks you about your day, how you’re settling into your apartment, if you’ve had a chance to explore the city yet. 

You answer his questions with your brows furrowed.  Confused.  He’s hardly the same man who barked at you on your first day in Colombia.  A timer in the lab goes off, and you turn to one of your complicated pieces of lab equipment to read the ticker tape being spit out of the machine.

Your back turned, he snags another piece of candy and eats it.  He’s trying to be Casual Carrillo, not the flinty version of himself with a cold gaze and a grim set to his mouth.  He takes a second piece, chews it, feels a million memories from his childhood resurface at the taste.  But then you turn around, see what he’s eating, and your face—usually guarded and wary when he is around—turns to pure horror.

“No!”  You bridge the distance between the two of you, and you’re touching him before he can even register it.  Your hands are on his face, pinching the corners of his mouth, trying to force him to spit out the candy.  It’s pure instinct, like a mother forcing a toddler to spit out something poisonous.  You move on instinct, manhandling his face, and he moves on instinct too.

He spits out the half-chewed candy.

Which doesn’t help with the piece he already ate.  The piece already in his stomach, being digested.

“Shit, rinse out your mouth,” you order him, and you dart to the sink, pour him a glass of water.  You thrust it into his hand, and his heart starts to hammer at your panicky reaction.  What has he eaten?  Poison?  Some terrible, addictive drug?  Something that’ll do permanent damage to him, leave him with a weakened heart or a compromised liver?  Something that’ll shave years off of his life?

“What—” he starts to ask, but you gesture at the glass, so he does as he’s told.  He takes a mouthful, swishes it around.  Spits it out in the sink, then does it again and again.

“It’s some sort of love drug,” you tell him once he’s done.  You sag in relief against the counter.  “Medellín police found a bunch of it in a bust the other day.  The DEA contracts my lab out to the local force, so I’ve been running tests.”

“Love drug?” he asks, his stomach sinking.  “What does that mean?”

“Tests reveal organic compounds from a plant.  Like maca root, only…times a thousand.”

He swallows hard, and you catch the audible gulp, misunderstand it.

“You’re fine,” you tell him, and you gift him a rare smile.  “You didn’t eat it.  And anyway, there’s no long-term side effects if you had.  It just makes the user really, uh, friendly.”

“How friendly?” he asks, using your cutely prudish American adjective for horny, and you give him the anecdotal evidence from the Medellín police about spontaneous orgies in local clubs, and then he tells you the bad news about how he ate a first piece before spitting out the second, and the way your eyes go wide and your mouth forms a perfect “O” of horror would make him laugh, if he weren’t so nervous about what is about to happen to him.

-----

You drive him home in his own car.  There’s no point in taking him to the hospital—the only treatment is to ride it out.

It’s hard to describe the way it feels when the drug starts to affect him.  Carrillo has little experience with any drugs beyond the morphine he was prescribed when he was shot and had surgery.  He remembers the morphine, even years later:  the warm, syrupy calm that spread through his limbs, erasing the pain of his wound.

This…is not that.

Twenty minutes.  Half an hour after he eats that fucking laced candy.  He feels it in his stomach first, right under his rib cage:  warm, but not calm.  Warm, but…alert.  Aware.  If the morphine put his senses to sleep, then this wakes them up.

Wakes all of his senses up, then as the warmth spreads—up into his chest, down into his gut—wakes his senses up even more.  Carrillo’s senses dialed up to a thousand.

Not just smelling your delicate perfume, but smelling the soap from your laundry detergent, the shampoo you used that morning.  The faintly chemical smell of your lab that clings to your hair and clothing.

Not just hearing you—your cautious questions of how he’s feeling, where you should turn next to get him home.  He swears he can hear your heart beating, the pulse and slush of your blood as it moves through your body.  Swears he can hear you breathing, can hear the quiet creak of your jaw as you clench it in worry.

Not just seeing you, the mousy little scientist that he managed to scare shitless her first day in Colombia.  Put the fear of God in you after the last DEA scientist got caught skimming Escobar’s cocaine from the bricks confiscated by the Search Bloc.  His own fault, how he barked at you that first day, and this is his fault too—not following the rules of your lab.  Now he’s not himself.

Now he sees you with the drug roaring in his veins.  The tight clench of your hands on the steering wheel.  The worried set of your jaw, the way you study him out of the corner of your eye.  He sees more, now, too:  the delicate shell of your ear, the tiny pinprick in the lobe of a piercing but no earring because of your lab protocols.  The way the line of your neck disappears into the neckline of your shirt, the curve as it meets your shoulder.  The thin silver chain around your neck, a locket, and Carrillo wonders if you’ve got some sweetheart back home who gifted it to you before you left for South America.

The thoughts rise in his head like carbonation, rapid-fire.  Usually so logical, so cool-headed:  now his thoughts are gummy, sticky.  He wants to lean against the seatbelt and put his mouth on your neck, follow the line of it into your shirt, then pull it aside and keep going.  Tasting you.  Such a sweet, mousy little thing—he wonders if you taste sweet, or if he’d taste the salt of your skin, maybe a bitter spot where you daubed perfume that morning—

“Shit.”  It comes out a groan, pained.  He lifts a hand and presses it over his eyes, and he feels how hot his palm is.  This is bad.  It’s so bad.  He’s not himself; he’s losing who he is:  Horacio Carrillo, the man who is always so staid…that man is fading into the background.  That Horacio is going quiet, ceding control to this other Horacio who is ruled only by want, by feeling.

-----

You manage to get him home, and he is still enough of himself to thank you. 

He’s also enough of himself to bark out that you need to leave:  take his car and go, leave him alone.

But Carrillo never really got to know you.  He put the fear of God in you that first day.  You’ve been ducking him ever since.  He has no way of knowing the type of person you are.

He has no way of knowing that you are the caring sort.  You’re soft-hearted.  You worry for people when they are hurt or sick; you check in on them.  You take care of them.

He has no way of knowing that while you are brilliant at your job and largely level-headed, your heart often drives you and your brain often follows.  Which is why you ignore his orders and follow him into his house:  your soft heart driving you to help a person in distress, when your brilliant mind is perhaps warning you to stay away.

-----

You follow him into his house, and Carrillo is still enough of himself to try and force you to leave.

“You gotta go,” he says, and his usually-crisp English comes out slurred, slushy and rounded off with his Colombian accent.  “Gotta leave.”

He curls his hands on your upper arms, pushes you backwards but not meanly.  Pushes you towards the door carefully so you don’t stumble or trip, but it’s another sense dialed up to a thousand—the feel of you under his hands.  The warmth of your body underneath the crisp cotton of your blouse, the way his fingertips bite into the surprisingly firm muscles there. 

“If you don’t leave, m-might not be able to stop myself.”  He pushes you towards the door, but already that driving want is roaring in him, and he doesn’t stop to open the door and push you through it.

He keeps it closed and pushes you against it. 

He traps you between the door and his body, so close to touching you.  There’s hardly any space separating you.  Millimeters.  Molecules.  Close enough to feel the heat of your body, the magnetism the fucking drug is convincing him is there—

Carrillo stares down at you; you gaze back with those widened eyes.  Nervous.  As scared as you’d been that first day, and it chastens him just a bit.  You probably think he’s a monster.

You take a breath, and the motion makes the locket around your neck move.  It catches the light and draws his eye.  Carrillo takes a hand from your shoulder and lifts the locket from where it lays against your chest.  He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, considering it.

“Your boyfriend give you this?” he asks.

You blink at the question, shake your head faintly.  “It was my grandma’s.”

A dumb thing, but the thought of you having a grandmother—of course you have two, as most humans do—reminds him that you’re a person with an entire history.  A family back home in the States.  Likes and dislikes.  And Carrillo knows none of it.

“You need to go,” he says in a low voice, ignoring the wave of lust that sweeps through him.  “I can handle this alone.”

You shake your head again.  “It was my lab.  My responsibility.  I can help.  I can get a cold shower going and then—”

He silences you.  He puts his finger over your lips, stills them.  The wrong thing to do:  now he knows how your mouth feels, and Carrillo grits his teeth and breathes shallow through his nose.

“If you don’t go, I’m going to want to—Dios, I already…you need to go.”

The last vestige of the sensible, stoic Carrillo wants to open the door, shove you out of it, throw the bolt.  That Carrillo wants to stagger deeper into the house, alone, and strip out of his clothes.  He wants to lay on the cool tiles and relieve the tension as best he can.

That Carrillo is gone.  Silenced, tucked away into a corner of his mind.  This Carrillo doesn’t push you away:  instead, he shifts his hand, traces his finger over the plump curve of your lower lip, and your eyes widen at his touch—

This Carrillo remembers something.  With his other hand, he reaches down.  Into his pocket, where a few pieces of the laced candy are.  The ones he pocketed on the sly and forgot.

He pulls one out.  Unwraps it clumsily with one hand while the other hand remains on your mouth, stilling your words.  Once it’s unwrapped, he holds it up for you to see, like a trainer teaching a dog with a treat.  Then he removes his hand from you, takes a step back.  It takes every single bit of his resolve to stop touching you, but he does.

He’s giving you a choice:  leave, as he’s ordered you to do more than once.  Or stay and join him.

In this moment, Carrillo still doesn’t know anything about you.  He doesn’t know what you’re thinking.  He knows so little about you, only knows that you avoid him, are frightened by his tough colonel of the Search Bloc routine. 

There will come a time in the future when he will be able to guess, with startling accuracy, what you are thinking.  He’ll know you better then.  He’ll know that as mousy as you seem, you have sudden surges of bravery.  Sudden moments of nerve.

That comes later.  Right now, when Colonel Horacio Carrillo gives you a choice, you startle him.  You don’t turn and flee. 

You shift your eyes from the laced candy in his hand to his own eyes, and you seem to see something there that informs your decision.

You don’t flee.  You open your mouth and allow him to lay the laced caramel onto your tongue, a perverse sort of communion.  It’s one of your sudden moments of nerviness, and you never blink once, never look away from him while you chew carefully, then swallow.

*****

It’s morally grey, at best.  The man is not himself.

It’s utter madness at worst.

There will come a time in the near future when he will ask why you didn’t leave.  Why you ate the candy.  You’ll tell him a half-truth:  that it was professional curiosity, how taking the drug would feel.  You’ve never tried the drugs you test in your lab; you always rely on your equipment and anecdotal evidence from those who do inject or smoke or eat the various drugs.  But there is always the curious part of you, the most essential part of being a scientist, that wants to know how it feels.

Why not try it?  It isn’t cocaine or heroin or LSD. 

There will come a time in the further future when he will ask again, and that time, you’ll tell him the whole truth:  that yes, you were curious about the drug.  But more than that:  you were curious about him.  You were terrified of him and attracted to him in equal measure (you blamed the fact that he was usually in uniform), which made for a weird combination of emotions every time you had to deal with him.  The sinking fear in your gut that he’d turn his flinty gaze on you…paired with the fluttery swooping in your gut of burgeoning infatuation.

That all comes later.  Right now, there’s nothing but the sweetness of caramel lingering in your mouth, almost cloying, and Colonel Carrillo staring at you like he wants to devour you.  You inch around him, move away from where you’re trapped between him and door. 

You make your way deeper into his home, and you sit on his couch and wait.  He follows and sits beside you, but he doesn’t touch you.  He clenches his hands into fists in his lap, his knuckles white with the effort, but he doesn’t touch you.

That means something, you think.  Says something about his character, even when he’s drugged.

Fifteen, twenty minutes after eating the laced candy:  you’re ready to be devoured.

*****

Carrillo doesn’t know exactly how the drug works—if it affects men and women differently—but he can guess when you start to feel it.

Your face twists into an expression of concentration, as if you’re surveying how you feel.  Like you’re checking in on your pulse, your breathing, your temperature.  You narrow your eyes, and he wonders if you’re making mental notes that you’ll later print in your small, neat handwriting in the little notebook you keep.

Carrillo?  He’s in hell.  Twenty minutes of waiting for you to sink to his level, and every cell of him aches for relief.  He’s not in any physical pain—whatever formula the chemists use for their so-called love drug, it’s meant to be fun, not painful.  But it’s like pain, the endless want he has, the lust that’s sunk its claws deep into his gut.

The twenty minutes pass like twenty years.

Then you swipe your palms along the thighs of your jeans as if they are sweaty, and you breathe out a shaky, “holy shit,” and he knows you’re finally in the same place as him so he pounces, damned near:  a graceless move, quick, that bridges the distance between the two of you.  He presses himself against you, cages you against the arm of the couch, and when he bends his head to kiss you, you raise up to meet him more than halfway.

He knows it’s just the drug, but you kiss him with a passion he’s never experienced before:  not with his now-ex-wife, not with the handful of girls before her.  Every other kiss before pales in comparison to the heat behind your kiss now:  the fierce way you slot your mouth over his, how eagerly you slide your tongue against his without an ounce of the shyness he associates with you.  He can taste the sickly-sugary laced-candy, but he swears he can taste you too, and when he groans in your mouth, you answer with your own whine.

There’s only a small sliver of him that is still him, and that tiny shred of the sensible Carrillo manages to break away.  You’re both tearing at each other’s clothing—your shaky hands fumbling at the buttons on his shirt, his hands tugging the hem of your blouse out of your jeans.  But he breaks away with every remaining bit of his inner strength, and he gazes down at where you’re awkwardly splayed across his couch.

“Not here,” he pants.  All of this will shame him when he’s sober, he thinks, but he can try to be a gentleman, can claim you on a proper bed and not on an uncomfortable couch.

He stands up, and a wave of dizziness washes through him.  He staggers, and you sit up and reach out to steady him.  You wrap a hand around his wrist and stare up at him.  Your eyes glitter black because your pupils are so wide that the color of your irises is little more than a crescent—but he thinks he sees concern there underneath the lust.

“You okay, Colonel?” you ask, confirming his suspicions.  Even now, under the influence of the drug, he’s seeing your caring nature that he’s never been privy to before.  It sobers him up just enough.

Carrillo nods.  He twists out of your light grip and takes your hand in his.  He tugs you to your feet and feels how you sway against him too.

“N-not here,” he repeats.  A fresh wave of lust courses through him, nearly knocks him to his knees like the incoming tide.  “I don’t…not here, okay?  C’mon.”

You nod and allow him to lead you back to his bedroom.  He keeps his hold on your hand, unwilling to give up the tame touch, and when you squeeze his hand—maybe you’re nervous—he squeezes yours back in reassurance.

-----

That small, quiet voice that was sensible Carrillo is silenced the minute he gets you in the bedroom.  The drug takes him over completely, and he’s almost relieved to cede all control to it.  He’s always so tight-laced, so straight-edged. 

This Carrillo is nothing but id:  driven by desire, chasing pleasure.  He feels like little more than an animal, and he finds that he likes it. 

Your clothes don’t survive him.  He tears at your blouse and the buttons ricochet across the room.  He’ll find them for weeks afterwards; he’ll send you home in one of his plain white T-shirts the next morning, and the sight of you in such a tame outfit will make a curling wave of lust course through him, though the drug will have worked itself out of his system by then.

He tugs at the clasp of your bra, fumbles it but then unlatches it, and he pushes it off of your arms to reveal your breasts, and Carrillo sways closer to you.  He touches you there first, cups the soft roundness of you, and he feels how diamond-hard your nipples are.  He bends his head and puts his mouth to you—suckling, nipping, licking at you, and he feels your hand thread through his hair to hold him there.  He hears the keening whine you loose, the throaty way you say his name.

Not his name.  You whine out Colonel, his stupid fucking title, and he lifts his head.  He stares into your dark, unblinking eyes.  He reaches up a hand and grips your chin, firm but not hard, because even underneath the raging animal lust burning through him, he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Horacio,” he tells you.  “Say it.”

You do, and it’s no mousy whisper.  Your tongue darts out and lays a wet line on your lower lip. 

“Horacio,” you reply.  You say it carefully like it’s a new word for you.

“Say it again,” he demands, but you only get the first two syllables out before he’s muttering a curse at hearing his name in your mouth, the intimacy of it, and he seals his mouth over yours in a fierce kiss.

The rest of your clothes—your jeans, your panties—fall away as he strips you.  There’s no art to it.  No seduction, because you strip him just as fiercely.  You tug at his belt and undo it, pull it from the loops of his pants with a snap as the leather whips against the air.  You get him out of his uniform shirt and t-shirt underneath it but then he pushes you back against the bed and you fall, naked and gorgeous. 

Horacio pounces.

There is a part of him, terribly small and far away, that worries you don’t want this.  The straight-edged part of him despairs that this is just the drug, that you’ll be horrified in the morning. 

His worrying will be needless.  He’ll wake before you in the morning—the consequence of being in the army so long—but when you finally wake too, you’ll only be a little shy.  You won’t have any regrets, and you’ll prove it to him by climbing onto him, by riding him slowly in the pre-dawn Medellín morning.  And neither of you will be drugged when you do.

Now, he stretches the length of his body over yours, feels the feverish press of his skin to yours.  You open your legs to him, but when he settles between your spread thighs, you hook your feet onto his pants, reach down with your hands, and clumsily try to work the rest of his clothing off of him.

“Eager,” he mutters against your mouth, and your lips are slick, swollen from how much he’s already kissed you.

“Please,” you reply.  You gaze up at him, blink as if you’re trying to clear your head.  “Please, Horacio.”

Then you shift the hand that is already reaching down, and you touch him—your hand slips under the low-slung elastic of his boxers, and your warm hand is on his cock, and the sudden touch makes him jump and twitch in your palm as you grasp him firmer, start stroking him.

“Fuck,” he chokes out.  “F-fuck, cariño.”

If he can be grateful for anything, it’s that he got dosed in your lab and managed to get home before this moment.  You told him this drug was circulating though Medellín clubs and bars, and Horacio cannot imagine succumbing to this sharp, all-encompassing desire in public.  He’s grateful he got you to his bed, where you have privacy.

The first time he fucks you, Horacio gets no further than freeing his cock from the confines of his pants, shoves his uniform slacks and his boxers down just enough for his aching length to spring free.  You moan as you stroke him—he’s slick with pre-cum—but he breaks free from your grip and shuffles forward.  He pushes forward until he’s touching your slick folds, and then he pushes into you, unable to stop himself, but your hands reach down and grasp his ass and pull him into you, and once he’s buried to the hilt, you wrap your legs around him.

The first time he fucks you, Horacio can’t manage intelligible words.  Not in English, not in Spanish.  He can only grunt like an animal, can only breathe harsh, ragged breaths as he thrusts into you.  You’re unbearably wet, unbearably hot.  It’s like fucking some tight, searing thing, and the heat is everywhere—your cunt, your bared skin, your panting mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders.  The heat sinks into his skin, into his tense muscles, into the very bones of him.  It’s like he’s being unmade at the molecular level, broken down into base elements, and his grunts turn to snarls as he fucks you harder, deeper. 

You?  You take it.  You take it eagerly.  You wrap your legs around him.  You wrap your arms around him, and even if he wanted to stop, he’d have to untangle himself from your limbs.  Each jarring thrust where he’s completely buried in you makes you groan, and even you have an animal quality to the sounds he’s pulling from your perfect lips.  When the crown of his cock hits the end of you, you groan, but it’s throaty—almost a growl.

A moment later, he feels a sting of fire on his back where you dig your fingernails into him.  Where you scratch long lines of burning into his skin, like a brand.  He’ll carry those marks for days, feel how they burn under the spray of his shower.

Then you aren’t just taking it anymore.  You start to fuck back against him, lifting your hips an inch off the bed, tilting your pelvis enough to grant him more depth to you.  You find his rhythm and meet him thrust for thrust, until you’re moving not as two people but one.

The first time he fucks you, Horacio has no clue how long it lasts.  It goes by in a blink.  It lasts for hours.  It’s nowhere near long enough before he feels the burning tension at the pit of his belly snap and spill over like molten metal poured out of a crucible.  He can’t even warn you that he’s about to come because it happens so quickly—a particularly deep thrust where he swears he can feel himself breeching the entrance of your womb, where you hiss in his ear some phrase he won’t remember.  The tension snaps, and he breathes out your name, and he comes inside you, brands your perfect cunt with his spend.

But the feeling of him filling you must be the last bit of stimulation you need because you come a beat later too, and the sensation of your cunt rippling against him when he’s already so sensitive nearly makes him cry.

It gives you each a moment of reprieve.  Horacio’s burning lust recedes just enough that he gazes down at you.  He feels a sting of guilt—you’re disheveled, your hair wild and your eyes leaking tears down into your temples.  Your lips are swollen as you struggle to catch your breath, and you look so gorgeously, thoroughly fucked that he leans down and kisses you gently on the corner of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod.  You reach out a gentle hand too, curl it into a loose fist and run your knuckles lightly over the side of his face.  It’s an oddly sweet gesture, soft, and when Horacio tilts his head into your touch, you uncurl your fist and cup his face.

This is the moment, he will realize later, where love takes root.  This simple, intimate moment between the two of you.  Eye of the storm, where he kisses you sweetly and you cup his face.  The love won’t blossom or fruit for a while yet, but this is where it reaches its tender shoots into him.

But the realization won’t come until later.  For now, the receding tide of lust reverses, comes rushing back in.  He’s still buried in you, still hard as steel, but everything is getting warm again.

“You okay?” he asks again, but he’s already pulling out a fraction, pushing back into you, his hips making small movements.

“Again, Horacio.”  Your thumb strokes along his stubbled cheek, and you nod up at him.  “Again, please.”

You ask so nicely.  He pulls out long enough to finally strip out of his clothes, but then?

Then he obliges.