#she did nothing wrong (except for all the wrongs...)

[yanderenightmare]

jujutsu kaisen- which yanderes are really scary? i love the one you did about bnha, like which ones are just show, and which ones are really dangerous ones!! 💘

Yandere JJK

♡ FEAT: Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Itadori

♡ TW: NSFW, noncon, yandere, kidnapped reader, pet-play, degradation, caging, punishments, manipulation, forced submission, other stuff...

♡ FEM reader

♡ Kento Nanami

He’s scary because he’s so strict. 

He’s got house rules and expects you to follow them—no exceptions. Oh, and when you fail to do that? He expects you to take your punishment without any fuss.

“You know what you did wrong, baby. Be a good girl now and make it right, and I’ll forgive you.”

Yeah… you’ve yet to learn how to do that…

Stupid as you know it is, you always try to run—and it always makes it worse.

Your ass stings, smacked raw after three dozen hits. You sit with it on your heels, kneeling before the man who dealt the blows. That would have been the end of it if only you’d managed to take it properly—you could have been done. But now here you are, tears on your face, hiccups still raw in your throat, as he fastens the collar around it.

He doesn’t take kindly to you when you try to avoid responsibility. Accepting your punishments is one of those responsibilities.

It’s about humility, knowing when you’re wrong, and a matter of integrity to accept the consequences. And as Kento makes clear, a good girl should have both. And if you have neither, well, then you don’t deserve to be treated like a good girl, now, do you?

And that's a real shame. You see, because good girls get to eat their dinner at the table. They have the right to take warm showers, can sleep in the bed, and wear clothes. They’re even allowed to have hobbies after they’re done with all their chores. 

But bad girls, however? They don’t get any of that. 

Because a bad girl is no different from an animal. Bad girls get their dinner in a bowl on the floor, are hosed down in the tub, sleep and stay in their cage whenever their master’s out, and walk around on all fours naked with a collar around their throat until they’ve proven themselves worthy of being a good girl again.

And how does she do that?

Why, by obeying and serving her master, of course.

And so, even a whole week later, you're still stuck sucking his cock through the thin black metal piping of your cage, just like a glory hole.

His fingers interlock with the bars above you, holding them tight enough to make his knuckles whiten, rattling the cage somewhat each time he rocks back and forth.

He doesn’t talk to you much when you’re in this state. Small talk and sweet nothings are reserved for good girls. While bad girls, naturally, only deserve commands like sit, open up, tongue out, suck. 

“Turn around.”

Your breath is erratic, throat abused, voice weak, saying, “Yes, master.”

You’re not allowed to call him by his name, only when you’re back to being his good girl. For now, you’re not his pretty wife; you’re just a caged critter he’s training, and as such, you’ll refer to him appropriately with the proper title.

You honestly don’t know which is worse sometimes, acting like his ever-sweet housewife or this, this fucked up pet-play.

You twist around on all fours in the small cage—face down, ass in the air, as you press your cunt up against the cool metal bars and await getting fucked just like an actual animal.

He’s laid out a baby pink dress on the bed, all frills and ruffles like the things dolls wear—a clear sign. This is the last day of your probation—if you manage to pass the test, that is—meaning, be a good pet and take the pounding.

The cage rattles even more after he drives himself inside and sets his tempo.

It’s hard maintaining the position, painful, but you hold it as good as can—keeping your cunt pressed flush against the wire so hard the fat of your ass and thighs squeeze through, leaving cross-hatched markings on the skin, staying there for every harsh thrust until he's filling you up with his load.

When he’s done, he crouches down, asking sternly if you’re going to be his good girl from now on. And you, despite knowing how the cycle repeats, nod your head, desperately wanting out of the cage even if it means wearing whatever he dresses you in and doing whatever he tells you until the next time he deems you’re due for a demotion.

♡ Satoru Gojo

Gojo’s scary for the opposite reason from Nanami.

Where Nanami is structured, Gojo is random. You never know what to expect or when his switch is about to flip or go apeshit.

Most days, he’ll act like your boyfriend and treat you like his girlfriend. Ignoring you when you don’t play along. He just boops your nose and calls you his grumpy little tsundere with a fond smile on his lips.

He’ll be so lax with you then, allowing you to call him names and fight him. Pulling you to him and spinning you about, doing whatever he wants, treating you like a doll. Laughing at your protests as if they’re all just jokes.

Other days, he’ll be much the same, but even more lax, so lax that he might even actually listen to you, throwing his hands up in surrender, saying “okay, okay” when you growl at him not to touch you.

He’ll act, somehow, somewhat normal on those days as if the two of you just happen to be living with each other. He won’t insist on you being his girlfriend or him being your boyfriend, won’t force you to be lovey-dovey, and won’t force his own lovy-dovey-ness onto you.

On those days, he actually seems to accept that you don’t love him, and you can pretend he’s just this roommate you don’t like. You'd call it his sane days. But at the same time, you think you could even stab him, and he wouldn’t care. So, it's more like his too-tired-to-care-or-something days.

Then there's his demon days.

On those, you don’t get away with anything without him shoving it in your face how little anything you do matters.

He’ll be nasty about it, too. Grinning at your struggle as he pins your wrists above your head and holds them there without budging, making it painstakingly clear that no matter how much strength you put behind it, it’s nothing to him. 

He might even lift you by his hold, haul you off the ground, up onto your tippy-toes, and further, until you’re no longer touching the floor, have you hanging there, like he’s nailed you to the wall.

At those times, it’s as if all he wants to do is make you squirm.

Cupping your cunt in his other hand, he tickles the slit before filling you with two of his ever-long fingers. Breath hitting your cheek and neck, where he whispers filthy teasings in your ear, his sharp blue eyes beholding you with a glint and a smirk on his lips.

He strives to make you cum, but it’s not about your pleasure—it’s about proving a point. The point being, everything in your body surrenders to him, so you should give it up already and accept it.

And still, he doesn’t really tell you to stop fighting—he just mocks you with false coos, “All I want is to see the look on this cute face when I make you cum. Come on, show it to me. We both know you’re gonna, so just give it up already, yeah?”

He only snickers when your cunt flutters around his fingers, eagerly watching you try denying it by shaking your head and biting your lips from squealing.

“That’s it. So fucking cute. And it’s all fucking mine.”

Sadistic glee is painted on his face as he furthers your humiliation by treading your sensitive walls over his cock next. Up against the wall, your thighs around his torso, his mouth on your neck with tongue and teeth.

No matter how you push on his shoulders and chest, he doesn’t budge—just continues to have his way.

You never know which mood you’re waking up to. Delusional boyfriend Satoru, strange roommate Satoru, or this, sadistic Satoru, or someone completely different, someone who’s in all matters of likelihood way worse like that time he cam home covered head to toe in blood and still insisted on fucking you then and there.

♡ Suguru Geto

You started off as a simple temple follower before Geto became the new head priest. You’d been brought into it by your parents from birth. They’d both tried leaving when the organization changed. It would have cost them their lives if they hadn’t had you to offer instead.

And so you become one of his personal servants.

It wasn’t so bad in the beginning, to be honest. You had other maids to find solace and solidarity in. It was only when he took closer notice of you that you started feeling the urge to run away.

Geto is an understanding and patient person. And so he allowed you many liberties, such as letting you talk your way out of coming to his chambers when he requests you, knowing it’s only a matter of time before you run out of excuses.

It’s only when you abuse those liberties that he deems it fit to punish you. When you, just like your foolish parents, take his loose reins as an opportunity to run away.

Naturally, you don't make it far. You should have learned from your parents' mistakes. But, where he was more than happy to stain his pristine monks' robes with their blood, he doesn’t lay a hand on you.

No…

He leaves that to them. 

The many monsters he summons—all slimy, bulky, bumpy ones that drool over your pretty skin as they tear your clothes off and start groping you, rearing your every orifice with something gross.

You scream in the beginning. Then you sob. Then you go silent, whole body limp and twitching, eyes miles away.

He calls them all off when you’re spent—when you don’t even have the strength left to lift a finger, and all you do is lie there where they’ve left you, in a heap of your own undoing.

He doesn’t even say anything. He just snaps his fingers, ordering some other servants to come and collect you.

Lying on the floor, your vision fades in and out as you watch his long robe drag along the floor, steadily moving away from you until disappearing.

The other servants bathe you and dress you, erasing all traces except for those left on the inside.

You don’t see him until later. And this time, the very sight of him makes you shiver.

He asks you which you prefer: how you can choose to behave and be treated like his favorite, or pull a stunt again and be reduced to a plaything.

And this time, it’ll be forever—he doesn’t do third chances.

Your hair’s still damp, and you're wrapped in the fluffiest of all robes, and still, you feel raw and cold and dirty beyond relief as you nod your head and whimper out how you’ll behave.

He smiles then. That kind smile he uses with those sorry people who come to the temple to have their problems fixed—the one where his eyes will crease, and his lips will stretch just far enough to curl at the edges and betray him. 

This time, when he touches you, you accept it by lying still and spreading your legs. 

Vowing to both him and yourself that you’ll never be so dumb as to go against him ever again.

♡ Sukuna

You don’t dare fight him at the start, nor do you run. You don’t even dare think about it.

Tales of the king of curses made you more than willing to bend over backward if it meant staying alive. And somehow, it’s enough to get in his good graces. 

It’s not without sacrifice, of course, being his concubine. He’s not the easiest to please. But watching the way he cuts others into pieces before setting those pieces ablaze, you figure catering to the monster is better than being his prey.

You might be his favorite for now, but you know you’re not any special. That’s to say, you don’t think he’d spare you if you tried running away. In fact, you’re quite sure he’d set his domain off and level everything within a mile’s radius.

Again, not because you’re anything special to him, just out of principle. 

You’ve seen him do worse for less. In the end, all that really matters to him is that his word is law, and if anyone goes against it, they pay the hefty toll of death by utter annihilation.

You know this, and yet as the months go by and you grow more comfortable by the day, you do end up becoming a little brazen. A little naughty. A little too naughty for your own good, maybe... Walking about in expensive silk and jewels, wicked smiles, and coy catlike eyes, playing games with the king of curses and deadly poisons as if you’ve become immune.

“What would you do without me, huh?” you drawl, lying on top of his naked chest, softly lulled by the rise and fall of his breathing while listening to his heartbeat betray the fact that he is, in fact, still somewhat human.

The two of you had just finished up, now lying sweaty in the afterglow. He’s got an arm propped up behind him against the headboard. The other three he keeps on you, petting your skin. Cuddling.

He quirks his brow down at you but neither of his faces react much, regarding you like the silly creature you are and talking to you just so,  “Going somewhere, are you?”

You trace the black ink on his chest. “Oh, you never know... One of these days, I might just run away. Never to be seen again. Leave you here with your dick in your hand.” Your finger reaches the apex of his chest, giving it a tap while you look back up at him, a sly smirk on your lips. “Or, well… dicks in your hands.”

His eyes, all four, squint while eyeing you.

“Are you now…”

There’s a sudden rush, you don’t know where you are for a second or what’s happened. Getting your bearings, you realize you’ve been spun on your back, still in bed, though now lying beneath him.

He seems much bigger this way, terribly big, caging you with his four arms.

“I was…” Your voice comes out as a whimper this time, stripped of all things insolent, now weak and soaked in building fear. “I was just… joking. I didn’t mean anything by it… I–”

“You didn’t mean anything by it, huh?” he cuts you off, leaning down until his head’s next to yours, breaths warm and heavy, hitting your neck and chest.

You squeeze your eyes shut, frozen in place, thinking his teeth are next, knowing he’s no stranger to the taste of meat, knowing he has the palate for it.

His mouth brushes your throat. His teeth follow shortly, gracing your jugular.

But, right before he’s about to puncture your skin comes a chuckle instead, then a whisper, “I’m just fucking with you, brat.” 

The bite still comes, but it's barely hard enough to be called that. Just enough to make a bruise, but nothing you’re not used to.

Still, having your life flash before your eyes is not something you recover from quickly, keeping your breath caught in your throat, just beneath the spit and sting left there by him, leaving you mute.

He, however, is feeling uncharacteristically chatty.

“Not that it would matter either way…” He draws back with a smile, leering down at you with an amused expression written plainly across both his faces, stroking your cheek with his thumb, making your breath stay stuck. “You wouldn’t even be able to leave this room, let alone this temple, without me knowing about it.”

His lower arms lift your thighs and spread them. You only now realize he’s hard again.

“But, to humor your question, if you ever dared leave me…” His grip tightens, his black nails sinking into the doughy flesh. “Well, I’d simply haf’to bring you back, now wouldn’t I?”

His grip seizes, turning gentle again. And your brows furrow, needing to blink.

That’s a little boring, you almost say, only to realize you’re able to breathe again. “You wouldn’t punish me?”

He smiles warmly, admiring the confused pout on your face while rubbing soothing circles over the moondents he left on the insides of your thighs.

“Nah…”

His softness is a little offputting, and so still makes you shiver as one of his upper hands slips down between you and starts playing with you all leisurely.

You only barely get the question out, “Why not?”

He hums, entering you with his fingers, feeling the silky slick left there from before, something proud written on his face. His voice is something nearly unrecognizable with what he says next, though, you suppose, he’d already been acting unlike himself. “If you rip just one petal off a flower, it loses all its beauty.” 

Your breath stops short again, this time for a different reason.

He thumbs your cheek, then curls his digits inside you, making you keen. 

He smiles in return, then says, “And I prefer you just the way you are.”

And it might just be the scariest thing to ever leave the tip of his tattooed tongue. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to breathe again.

“Don’t get me wrong, though, pretty flower,” he continues with a grin, feeling your walls clench around him. “The thing is, no matter where you go, no matter how far, and no matter how well you hide. I’d still find you.”

His hand then goes from your cheek to thumbing your chin—still just as deceptively softly, whispering just so, “Even if I’d haf’to obliterate every last person on earth to get to you. It wouldn’t matter.”

You swallow thickly at that, feeling his lips ghost yours, feeling some of that brazenness return for some reason, making you whisper back at him. “You’re crazy.”

He hums out a chuckle again. “Mh, to push me that far… I’d say you’re the crazy one.”

♡ Yuji Itadori

He doesn’t listen.

He’s like Gojo in that regard. He doesn’t take you seriously.

With his view of life and his knowledge of real horror, he doesn’t take anything seriously anymore.

His life is a waking nightmare, and you? You’re his sitcom.

You thought he was going to be gentle your first time together. And he was, sure, to some degree. He’d prepped you on his fingers and tongue first. Having taken his time with it, getting you puffy, wet, and hot to go. 

You’d been ready, feeling good, sitting on the bed, watching him undress, smiling and happy, biting your lip as he lifted his shirt off, revealing his chest and all those perfectly cut muscles of his. 

Everything was going well at the start. But that’s not to say he didn’t totally bulldoze you in the end...

His sweats were next, and you felt your lower belly do somersaults, needing him like you’d never needed anything else.

But then, when he dropped his boxers, and you finally saw the sheer size of him, you could only reel back in silent shock.

Eyes round and glossy in the dim light, switching between looking up at him and it as if your stare alone could keep it at arm’s length. 

You swallowed thickly, trying to ease the sudden pang of anxiety, making your heart shudder in your chest. But it was to no use. When he took a step toward you, you couldn’t help but bring your knees up to your chin, as if on instinct, locking your thighs together before shaking your head.

“That’s not gonna fit—I was wrong, I’m not ready.”

To which he only blatantly disregarded with a smile, “Pff, don’t worry.” Shaking his head right back at you with a chuckle, then insisting with casual neglect, “It’ll fit.”

Still, watching him climb after you on the bed, you shuffled backward away from him and the threat pointing right at you, repeating, “No, I’m serious, I’m not ready.”

“Baby, relax,” he drawled, stroking his rough hands up and down your thighs to comfort you. “Trust me, alright? I’m gonna make you feel real’ good,” he promised with a wink, hooking his beefy arms under your legs and, without further warning, parting them and pulling you closer, making your back hit the bed with a bounce.

The impact made you blink, and when your eyes opened again, you were all but face to face with it—the massive thing bobbing above your belly, struggling to carry its own weight, and even larger up close.

Honest to god, it must be the size of your forearm. No doubt, it’s going to tear you in two.

Your entire system goes into full alarm. And again, you repeat, now with urgency, “No, Yuji, really, that’s not gonna fit–”

This time, he just laughs—as if you’re only cracking a joke and the laugh track within his head is going nuts.

“You’re supposed to squeeze a baby through here,” he smiles, already pressing the tip against your wet entrance. “Compared to that, this’ll be nothing.”

♡ Toji, Mahito, Yuta, Naoya, & Megumi coming...

♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist ♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[ficsbyfrankie]

OWN IT

warnings: mdni, smut, 18+, voyeurism, exhibitionism, unprotected!sex

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: everyone knows how proud lando is about having his own stand, and he wants to make sure y/n knows too

a/n: this was written before the race, so it doesn’t specify race results or anything!

There was always a certain atmosphere after a race, one of inexplainable calmness - whether that be after a good or a bad result. 

It wasn’t right away, of course, the adrenaline still pumping through their veins, but after. 

In the aftermath it took for them to come down. 

It was like a state of bliss, almost. Almost. 

Lando was in that state then, after the end of the British Grand Prix - his home race. 

The day wasn’t uncomfortably hot, or miserably cold - more in the middle, enough for the driver to feel at peace with himself, the breeze rippling softly over his face.

The orange sun had began to set in the clouds in front of him, like a huge, orange mango sinking into a pit of lush softness. 

His hands were dug in the pockets of his joggers, curls tousling on his head. 

Peace. 

He was stood in the grandstand, his grandstand, to be exact.

Landostand. It sure did take ages to come up with the name.

The plastic blue seats were folded up like before the race had began, a soft smile filling his face at the thought of all his fans sitting excitedly for the race. 

He had fans. 

Lando hadn’t quite noticed the sound of small, uneasy footsteps behind him in his blissful state, savouring every moment of peace he could before he had to leave. 

The track was empty, not a soul present except him, and the girl behind him. Y/n. His girlfriend. 

Her hands were pushed up behind her sleeves - ‘paws’, as Lando so fondly called them - her mouth opening and closing, unsure whether to interrupt his haze. 

But nevertheless, she tried. 

The little cough from her throat was quiet, but it still made him jump, his head whipping round to lock onto the girl behind him. 

“Y/n,” 

“Hi,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

It seemed to fit with the soft wind blowing through both of their hair, bringing a light pink blush to their cheeks. 

Without a word, Lando extended his hand for her, gently reaching for hers to pull her closer to him. 

She let him, til her head brushed his shoulder, gently resting on him as he held her, just watching the sun. 

“Happy you’re here to experience this,” Lando whispered, tucking a strand of hair from her face with his free hand before cupping her cheek and bringing her into a kiss. 

Y/n smiled against his lips, the kiss soft yet speaking a million emotions, thought the most prominent of all? Love. Adoration. Bliss.

His hands slid from either side of her face down to her waist, his palms spreading warmth across her body, his fingertips brushing the hem of her skirt. 

She shivered. 

As soon as he broke the kiss, she buried her face into his neck, inhaling the musky, earthy scent of his cologne - also to hide the blush on her cheeks. 

It felt wrong to be…in that sort of mood in that moment. 

Yet Lando knew her too well. 

“Something wrong?” he muttered, his voice soft in her ear but carrying a teasing edge as the wind whipped round them. 

“Nothing,” she shrugged, diverting her gaze to the floor. 

It was useless lying to her boyfriend, he already knew what was up with her, he was just teasing. 

A thrill went through the man holding her, just the idea of where they were almost clicking in his mind. 

His grandstand. His seats. His girl. 

“You sure?” Lando pressed, keeping the half innocent tone in his voice. 

“Mhm,” 

She refused to expand on her words, in fear her voice would come out in a painfully obvious squeak.

In all honesty, the same thought had come to her mind, the possessiveness of being in his grandstand with just him, someone watching…maybe, maybe not. 

And it felt good.

Lando said nothing, one hand moving down to adjust his joggers, the soft material feebly covering the growing hardness between his legs.

Y/n could feel it to, pressing to her thighs from where she stood in front of him, her heart beating quicker.

One of his hands stayed on her hips, the other reaching to pull  her head back, their lips meeting. 

This time, the kiss was more passionate, his hand squeezing her face softly, causing her to gasp.

He took advantage of her open mouth, pushing his tongue into her mouth, the heat throbbing between her legs.

She could feel a pool forming in the cotton material of her panties, thighs quivering as he pulled her ever-closer.

The atmosphere of the air changed almost, suddenly it felt thicker, filled with the emotion that was coursing through them both. 

It was almost like her legs gave ways, dropping to her knees. 

The man in front of her didn’t even seem surprised, instead, an almost taunting smirk filling his fine, defined features. 

“You’re gonna do this here?” he teased, watching as her hands fumbled for the waistband of his joggers, palming the bulge through the material. 

His dick twitched beneath her warm palm, causing a groan to vibrate through his chest.

The idea of being caught almost seemed to spur them both on, Y/n’s hands tugging the material down.

“Needy,” he hummed, watching the way she almost salivated on her knees, his hard length aching to come out.

The cool breeze immediately hit the more sensitive of his skin, his head pulsing a deep maroonish-red as he took himself into his fist, giving himself two long, slow pumps.

Lando’s hand came to the back of her head, guiding her head towards his dick. 

She gave his head a soft little kiss, before her warm mouth enveloped his tip, helped by Lando’s hand prompting her on the back of her head.

Y/n wasted no time, moving forwards to take more of him in, sliding along the warmth of her tongue, every ridge and every vein prominent.

Her eyes squeezed shut, tears pricking at the corners as he hit the back of her throat.

She looked up, as best as she could from her current position, Lando’s head thrown back, veins flexing in his arms, one hand behind her head, one gripping so tight on one of the blue seats, that his knuckles had gone white.

Her coughs vibrated against the hilt of his cock before she finally pulled back, a warm string of salvia connecting the cushion of her lower lip to his tip.

“Oh fuck,” he cursed, his lashes fluttering, a frown creasing his brow as she took him back into her mouth. 

She used the salvia she had already set down as lube, sliding her head up and down, ignoring her urge to pull back and cough.

His hand tightened in her hair, a string of curses falling from his lips as she hung onto the material of his joggers round his thighs, pushing herself onto him again and again.

“Y/n- that’s it,” he choked out, his sentences choppy, barely making sense, as she pulled back, his cock pulling from her lips with a ‘pop’, twitching against her cheek.

“You’re gonna get caught, Y/n,” he opened his eyes, meeting her wide, glossy ones.

His pupils were dilated, blown up a hundred times, lips slightly parted, his breath heavy.

His long fingers wrapped round her wrist, pulling her up into in front of him, his lips crashing against hers. 

The whole dynamic of the moment had shifted, from a peaceful moment after the race to this. 

“Anyone could see us, Y/n,” he broke off the kiss, his hands sliding down her hips to lift the hem of her skirt, the cold air blowing to hit her clothed pussy.

“Let them,” she whispered back, Lando’s fingers sliding under the waistband of her panties, tugging them softly, almost teasing her.

“Lando,” she whined, her hand reaching down to take here cock back onto her hand, her thumb teasing the slit of his tip.

His expression changed instantly, the smirk falling as he froze, his hips involuntarily bucking into her fist.

The positioning was awkward, the pair wedged between two rows plastic blue seats, little to not place between them.

Lando almost seemed to snap out of his trance, his hands yanking the thin material of her panties down, a gasp falling from her lips as the cold air hit her sensitive skin. 

He pulled her closer, giving the track around a final once over to make sure no one could see anything, before he brought her into yet another kiss, taking his cock in one hand.

His hands guided her hips so she was facing away from him, her back pressed to his chest as he aligned his tip with her entrance.

His head twitched at the softest contact with her heat, her slick coating him as he angled his hips, pushing slightly.

The girl gasped as he pushed through her, the bulge stretching in her stomach as his hand wrapped forwards to squeeze the softness of her tits through her top.

“What d’you think people would think, hm?” his other hand came to her hip, steadying her as her mouth fell open, his cock twitching inside of her. 

“They all think you’re such a good girlfriend, so sweet…so supportive on the side lines…” he cooed.

Y/n was well aware of her reputation as a WAG. Sweet. Innocent. Pure.

“And you’re here,” his voice snapped her out of her trance, “getting your pussy stuffed with cock,” his hand dropped from her chest to draw teasing circles on her sensitive clit.

Y/n hissed, her back arching into his hand as he pulled his hips back, agonisingly slowly, before pushing back in again. 

It was obvious to anyone watching what  was happening, his hips picking up pace. 

Hell, someone would probably hear the snap of his hips against her ass.

“Lan, fuck-!” 

Her hands claws do the blue plastic seats in front of her, her knuckles white as she squeezed, both hands on her hips, snapping into her at a relentless pace.

For a few seconds, her pussy ached, squeezing at the harsh stretch, before eventually she settled, her cunt enveloping his cock like a warm hug.

She was fully aware of the consequences of being caught, but all she could think about was him. 

For a few seconds, the only sound was the sound of skin on skin, paired with his dick sinking in and out her dribbling pussy.

His cock pushed deep inside of her, slamming against her g-spot with more power than the last thrust, her pussy clenching  against every ridge and every bump.

It was almost like she’d memorised the feel of him inside her, so thick and so long.

Her nails dug into the plastic, her body shaking with every angled, perfected slam of his hips.

“Bet you want people to see,” Lando sneered, “taking my cock in my grandstand,” he muttered, nearly lifting her off the ground as he pushed her legs apart, giving himself better access.

Her back arched into his cock, the familiar feel of the knot building up in her stomach ever present.

For a second, she dared to look back, Lando’s head thrown back, his face the very picture of pleasure, eyes fluttering, the same frown present on his face.

He looked heavenly.

His adams apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he swallowed, his tongue darting out to dampen his lips. His arms flexed round her, his forearms wrapped right round her stomach, holding her tight.

One of his shaky hands reached round to toy with her clit, circling it slowly, applying slight pressure as she hissed, her legs nearly giving way if it wasn’t for him holding her.

She melted into his touch, her hair sticking to her cheeks, the smell of sex and sweat mingling in the air.

Y/n hoped to god no one was watching.

She felt the chuckle rumble in Lando’s chest behind her, clearly sensing her thoughts. 

“Anyone could be watching, baby,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch so soft compared to the harsh snap of his hips.

“Be a doll and put a show on for them,” 

His fingers quickened over her sensitive bud, her thighs shaking as she squeezed them together, trapping his hands. 

It was like she’d lost control of her own body, wrapped solely in the pleasure her boyfriend was bringing him. 

“Gonna cum? In my grandstand?” he leaned forward, his hand squeezing her jaw as her eyes rolled back, seconds from her climax. 

“Do it,” he slowed down, elongating his thrusts - once, twice.

Y/n cried out as her climax came over her, her legs spasming, hands clutching desperately onto the blue seats.

“Fuck- shit,” Lando was quick to follow, plunging his cock as deep into her as he could, his seed pooling into her pussy.

She responded by clenching round him, almost milking his cock, every last drop of his cum inside of her.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling his cock from her warm pussy, his softening length twitching weakly against the back of her thigh.

“So full,” he whispered almost dreamily, Y/n letting her head fall back onto his shoulder as he teased her entrance with his fingers, pushing them back in almost as a stopper to keep his seed in her.

Just how he wanted it.

“Shhhh, you’re okay,” Lando cooed, tucking her hair behind her ear softly, listening to her breathing as it came down from irregular and rapid, to slower and longer, “you’re alright,”.

“Let’s go shower,” he mumbled into her hair, taking her and in his and squeezing.

He pulled her skirt down, helping her pull the soft material of her panties back up, before adjusting himself, trying his best to cover the wet patch on his joggers.

At least now they looked more innocent.

Though everything they’d just done was anything but.

[belovedniki]

sunghoon doesn’t care about anyone, except his cocky, too-pretty neighbor. he tries to resist, but when she pushes him too far, he finally gives in. and once he has her, he’s not letting go.

warning/tags: neighbour!sunghoon, smut, daddy kink, spit kink, degradation kink, pet names, dirty talk, mirror sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, oral (f receiving) soft aftercare.

w.c: 2.9k

you moved in on a sunday.

sunghoon remembers because he hated sundays. they were still, too bright, too loud with the noise of families or couples or whatever happy shit the world insisted on parading in front of him.

but you? you were different.

you moved into the apartment directly in front from his. same floor. doors aligned. and from the second he saw you, he knew he was screwed.

he tried not to care. tried to be normal. nod when you passed in the hallway or the small yard that separated you, where wet clothes were normally hung. ignore how your perfume lingered. how your voice traveled through paper-thin walls and settled into his skin like heat.

but then you started leaving your blinds cracked. sometimes on purpose—sometimes not.

it didn’t matter.

sunghoon started watching.

not obsessively, he told himself. not creepily. just… curiously. how your lips looked when you were tired. how you walked barefoot to your kitchen at 2am. how you never seemed to care who was watching you pull your shirt over your head.

except maybe you did care.

because one night, you looked right at him. across the narrow yard. lights still on in your room, eyes meeting his through the glass.

you didn’t cover up.

you smirked.

and since then, sunghoon's grip on restraint has been paper-thin.

you always greeted him like nothing was wrong. like you didn’t know he was a little too quiet around you. like you didn’t see the way his eyes dipped to your mouth before snapping back up, guilty and angry at himself for letting it show.

you called him cold once. smirking as you leaned against your doorframe, licking cherry off your thumb like you didn’t know what it did to him.

“you're impossible to read,” you said. “do you hate me or just everyone in general?”

sunghoon had scoffed. muttered something about “not caring.”

you’d smiled, teeth biting your straw. “sure you don’t.”

he shut the door before you could see the twitch in his jaw.

it gets worse after that.

you start showing up more. laundry room. lobby. bumping into him like it’s coincidence. always in those tiny shorts. always in crop tops that show the curves of your waist and the tops of your thighs.

you bend a little too far. you glance a little too long. you say “sunghoon” like it’s a game.

and eventually, it clicks.

you know.

you know what you do to him.

and you love it.

sunghoon tries to hold out. he really does.

he fucks his fist in the dark, biting your name into his pillow, refusing to open his blinds. he ignores your texts, avoids the elevator if you’re in it, grits his teeth when he hears your laugh through the wall.

but one night, he breaks.

you're walking up the stairs as he’s coming down. it’s late. you’re wearing one of those skirts. your lips are shiny. you’re chewing gum like you want to be ruined.

“hey, neighbour,” you tease, slow and sticky.

he stares.

“not gonna talk to me again?” you pout. “you know, you’re no fun lately. makes me wonder if you’re even thinking about me anymore.”

his jaw ticks.

“you think i don’t notice?” you go on, stepping closer. “your lights on when i undress. how you flinch when i say your name. you’re a really bad liar, sunghoon.”

he says nothing.

you tilt your head, playing innocent. “so? are you gonna keep being mean to me, or—”

“get inside,” he says.

you blink. “what?”

“your place. now. if you’re gonna act like a slut, then be one.”

your mouth parts. something flutters in your stomach.

and then you turn around and unlock your door.

your back hits the wall the second it shuts.

sunghoon’s mouth crashes to yours, all teeth and tongue and months of pent-up tension breaking at once.

“fucking brat,” he growls, biting your lower lip. “always parading around like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

you moan into his mouth, hands clawing at his shirt.

“you know what i think about?” he breathes, pressing his knee between your thighs. “every night? this. your fucking mouth. how good you’d look ruined for me.”

you whimper, grinding against him.

“such a pathetic little thing,” he sneers. “you like teasing me? like walking around like you’re not begging to be fucked?”

“sunghoon—”

“shut up.”

his hand wraps around your throat—not tight, just enough to make you still.

“you had your fun, right?” he whispers. “being a cocky little tease. now you’re gonna take what you asked for.”

you nod quickly. “yes—please—”

“pathetic,” he smirks. “dumb little thing doesn’t even know what she’s begging for.”

he drags you to your room. throws you onto the bed.

“on your knees,” he says.

you obey.

he stands in front of you, hard in his sweats, glaring down at you with dark, hooded eyes.

“open.”

you do. he spits.

it hits your tongue hot and filthy, and you moan like you’ve been starved.

“god, you’re such a slut,” he mutters. “who moans from spit?”

you swallow and look up at him, eyes wide. “me.”

he chuckles—low and dangerous.

“of course you do. you’d probably cum if i called you my dumb little toy, huh?”

your breath stutters.

he grabs your chin. “is that what you want?”

“yes,” you gasp.

“you want to be my dumb little toy?”

“please—please, hoon—”

he cuts you off by pushing you back onto the bed again.

“take your clothes off. want to see what’s been making me insane.”

you strip quickly, and his eyes trail over you like he’s memorizing every inch.

“fuck,” he growls. “look at you. wet already? just from me talking down to you?”

you nod. “i can’t help it.”

“no,” he smirks. “you can’t. because you’re mine now.”

he pushes your legs open and drops to his knees.

"wanna taste you while you beg,” he says, fingers teasing your folds. “think you can do that for me, slut?”

you nod frantically.

and then his mouth is on you.

tongue hot and skilled, lips sucking your clit just right, two fingers curling inside you perfectly.

he eats you like he’s starving. like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted.

you sob his name. he moans against you.

“you gonna cum already?” he teases. “barely even started. so fucking weak.”

your hands grip the sheets. your thighs shake.

he sucks harder.

“say it,” he commands. “say you're my slut.”

“i’m your slut,” you cry. “i’m your dumb little slut—”

you cum hard, stars behind your eyes, shaking under his mouth.

he doesn’t stop.

another wave crashes through you. overstimulation sharp and searing, and he just keeps going.

“too much—i can’t—”

“yes you can,” he growls. “you’re mine. you’ll take every fucking thing i give you.”

when he finally pulls away, your body’s twitching, slick and messy.

he flips you over.

“look at yourself,” he whispers, dragging you to the mirror. “look how fucked out you are already.”

you stare, barely recognizing yourself.

“you ready for my cock now, slut?” he asks, stroking himself.

you nod desperately.

he slides into you slow. deep.

you moan, loud and broken.

“tight,” he groans. “this pussy was made for me.”

he fucks you hard—fast, deep thrusts that shake the bed and leave you breathless.

“so fucking loud,” he grits. “do you want the whole building to know who’s fucking you stupid?”

“yes—yes, let them hear—”

“god, you're disgusting,” he spits. “fucking creaming on me like a brainless little whore.”

you clench tighter.

“fuck,” he growls. “you like that? being called my little fucktoy?”

you nod, barely coherent. “yes—please—more—”

he pounds into you harder.

“mine,” he growls. “my slut. my pathetic little brat. say it.”

"yours—yours—yours—"

you cum again, harder than before. he follows right after, buried deep, hips stuttering.

you collapse forward, trembling.

he pulls you back into his chest, lips brushing your neck.

“not done with you,” he whispers. “not even close.”

his breath is warm against your neck, the words sinking into your skin like a promise.

your thighs are still trembling. your sheets are a mess. you’re still catching your breath when he grabs your jaw and turns your head toward him.

“look at me.”

you do. eyes glazed, lips parted.

he smiles. slow. mean.

“so dumb already. barely even fucked you right.”

you whimper when he presses two fingers to your swollen clit again.

“don’t start whining now. you wanted this, remember? teased me for months.”

you nod weakly, but he’s already flipping you back onto your stomach.

“up. knees.”

you obey on instinct, arching for him, cheeks burning as the slick between your legs drips down your thighs.

sunghoon groans behind you, low and guttural. like he’s losing his mind.

“look at this fucking pussy. soaking. open. greedy.”

you hear him stroke himself once, twice.

then:

“say you want more.”

“i want more.” your voice is thin, needy. “please, sunghoon—”

his hand comes down hard on your ass.

smack.

you jolt forward, gasp caught in your throat.

“wrong,” he says. “try again.”

your skin tingles.

“…please, daddy—”

he slams back into you.

you scream.

“that’s better,” he growls. “knew you were just a dumb little thing. needed to be reminded how to talk.”

his hips slap against you again and again, brutal and relentless.

you press your face into the sheets, biting down a moan as he fucks you even deeper than before.

“you feel that?” he pants. “this cock ruining your pussy? stretching you open like you’re made for me?”

you can’t even answer. your whole body is shaking. your walls flutter around him like they’re begging to be filled again.

“you are made for me, slut. mine.”

his hand slides into your hair, yanking your head back.

“say it.”

“i’m yours—fuck—i’m yours, daddy, i’m your dumb little whore—”

he snarls and fucks you harder.

“you don’t get to act like you’re better than me anymore. all that cocky bullshit? gone.”

he lets go of your hair, presses a hand flat to your lower back, holding you down.

“this is where you belong. on your knees, drooling over my cock.”

you’re drooling, actually–spit soaking the pillow. and sunghoon sees it.

“fuck, look at you,” he groans. “so fucking messy. my pathetic little slut.”

his fingers tangle in your hair again. “open your mouth.”

you obey.

he leans over you, chest on your back, cock buried deep, and lets spit fall onto your tongue.

“swallow it,” he hisses.

you do.

he moans.

“fuck. you’re disgusting. my disgusting little toy.”

you clench hard. he feels it.

“god—you liked that?”

“i’m close—i’m so close, please—”

he pulls out.

you cry out at the loss.

“get on your back.”

you flip over instantly. he’s on top of you in a second, grabbing both your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“need to see your face when you fall apart,” he pants.

he slips inside again. slower now, but just as deep.

you’re so sensitive it hurts. but it’s perfect.

“look at you,” he says. “crying from being fucked. do you even remember how this started?”

his voice is low and cruel.

“i couldn’t even breathe around you. and now look.”

he thrusts deep. you sob.

“now you’re begging me to break you.”

“please—i want it, i want all of it—”

he lets go of your wrists, and his hand finds your throat instead.

not choking, just there. firm. possessive.

“cum for me, slut,” he commands. “show me who you belong to.”

your body obeys before your brain does, white heat tearing through you, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you clench around him again.

he fucks you through it, not stopping. not letting up.

“yes,” he growls. “yes, that’s it. good fucking girl. my perfect little mess.”

you’re sobbing now, mindless, wrecked.

he grabs your face and kisses you, filthy, desperate, possessive.

and then he cums, hard, deep, holding you down while he fills you up.

for a long moment, there’s only panting. sweat. the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.

your body is twitching.

your legs ache. your throat burns from how much you begged. your skin is sticky with sweat, spit, and more.

but you feel warm. safe. his weight on top of you is grounding. his breathing is steady against your neck.

“you okay?” he murmurs, voice hoarse.

you nod, eyes fluttering shut.

“mhm.”

he doesn’t move. just kisses your jaw. then your temple. then your collarbone.

“hurts anywhere?”

you shake your head. “no. just sore.”

sunghoon slowly pulls out, making you whimper, and you feel his cum trickle down your thighs. he curses under his breath at the sight.

but this time, he doesn’t tease you.

“stay,” he whispers, disappearing into the bathroom.

you blink, dazed, watching the ceiling.

a moment later, he returns with a warm, damp towel.

and the gentlest hands.

he kneels between your legs, cleaning you slowly. carefully. like he’s afraid of hurting you.

his brows are furrowed in concentration. you smile.

“you’re being nice,” you murmur.

his eyes flick up.

“shut up.”

you giggle softly, and he exhales like he hates how much he likes that sound.

when he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and leans over you, brushing hair from your face.

“you scared me,” he says after a beat. “thought i lost it.”

you tilt your head.

“you didn’t.”

he nods, more to himself.

“…you can tell me to stop next time.”

you reach for his hand.

“i know.”

silence stretches. his fingers curl around yours.

“i meant it,” he says eventually.

you blink. “meant what?”

his eyes darken again. not lust, something deeper.

“you’re mine now.”

you grin.

“been yours. took you long enough to do something about it.”

he rolls his eyes.

“you’re unbearable.”

“you love it.”

he doesn’t deny it.

instead, he pulls you into his chest and drapes the blanket over both of you. your head rests against his shoulder; his arm wraps around your waist.

he kisses your hair.

“sleep.”

you smile, soft and hazy.

“you gonna stay?”

sunghoon doesn’t answer.

he just pulls you closer, and doesn’t let go.

taglist : @kristynaaah

[cece693]

TOLD YOU SO

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader synopsis: You had mentioned to Alana that something was weird about Hannibal—yes, the man was eccentric, to say the least—but there was something else, something dark hidden behind those eyes. So when Alana dismissed your concerns and then Hannibal's true colors made themselves known, you can't help but say 'I told you so.'

You had always known.

Maybe not in words, not in certainty, but in marrow and instinct. There was something about Dr. Hannibal Lecter that made your skin buzz—not crawl, not recoil, just...buzz. Like the flicker of candlelight in a dark room, beautiful and wrong in the same breath. He was polished to the point of parody—every gesture refined, every sentence balanced on a scalpel’s edge.

But something in you—something feral—had noticed the rot beneath the gilded surface. The way his eyes didn’t blink when others wept. The way he watched you, not like a man watches a colleague, but like an artist appraising marble before the first cut.

You had said as much once to Alana one rainy Tuesday—just a casual musing, “Don’t you think there’s something weird about Hannibal?"

She laughed, like you’d told a particularly tasteless joke. "You're overreacting,” she said, eyes soft but distant. “Hannibal is eccentric, I'll admit, but he’s a brilliant man. A good man."

You didn’t tell her it hurt, being brushed off like that. Especially when you had a stupid, hollow sort of crush on her. Not love—no, nothing so noble. Just the kind of crush that makes rejection feel like your lungs have turned inside out. You let it go. Or tried to.

Except you didn’t.

That was the first thread.

And you, being stubborn, followed it.

You didn’t mean to fall in love with him. God, no. But he was relentless. He folded himself into your days like rain into soil—word by word, glance by glance, meal by meal. You would wake up wondering what kind of wine he’d pair with your favorite book. You would hear his voice in the silence between your own thoughts.

You had told yourself it was just infatuation. Just loneliness. Just—but it wasn’t just anything. By the time you discovered the truth—that the good doctor wore faces like masks and fed lies with the same hand that plated gourmet dinners—it was too late. You were in love with him.

And worse still?

He loved you back.

So, when everything came crashing down—Will’s accusations, the investigation, the bloodshed—you stood at Hannibal’s side. Not because you condoned it. But because, somehow, in the wreckage of your life, he had become your gravity.

You fled Baltimore. Together.

SIX MONTHS LATER (FLORENCE, ITALY)

Europe was different.

Colder, older. Full of secrets and silences that didn’t echo the way Baltimore’s did. And despite everything—everything—you adapted. Learned to live in the lull between opera nights and blood-soaked mornings. You even grew to love it. But there was something you never got to say. Something that gnawed at you louder than any moral conflict you might’ve once had.

You never said it.

But Hannibal noticed.

He always noticed.

It was on a quiet Florentine afternoon—sunlight poured through the arched window, catching the edge of his knife as he sliced a persimmon with almost meditative slowness. The fruit bled onto the board. Sweet, orange-red.

“You’re restless,” he murmured, without looking up.

Your gaze lingered on the courtyard below. Pigeons flapped dumbly between statues. “We’re in hiding, darling. There’s only so many chapels and intestines I can look at before nostalgia kicks in.”

He smiled faintly. “I’m assuming this nostalgia is American-made?”

You turned your head and met his gaze. “I want to go back. Just for a day. To see Alana.”

There it was—the flicker. Subtle, but surgical. A twitch at the edge of his mouth, a near-imperceptible pause in the blade’s rhythm. Jealousy, cold and sharp. Because for all his grandeur, Hannibal Lecter was painfully human in his possessiveness.

And though you had chosen him—had run with him through blood and ruin—he still hadn’t forgotten the way your eyes used to flicker when Alana entered the room. He hadn’t forgotten your voice when you spoke about her—too soft. Too fond.

“She nearly died, you know,” you added softly, watching the persimmon fall into elegant crescent moons on the cutting board. “You threw her from a window. There are things I never got to say. Before everything burned.”

His voice, when it came, was calm. Frighteningly so. “What would you say, if given the chance?”

“I told you so,” you said without hesitation. He let out a soft hum, amused in that dangerous way. But you weren’t done. “And then maybe—‘it should’ve been me you trusted.’”

That stilled him.

You stepped closer. “I know what you are. I knew before Will did. Before Jack. Before the headlines named you a monster. And I didn’t flinch. I could’ve turned you in. I could’ve killed you in your sleep.”

Hannibal’s head tilted, fascinated. “And yet you didn’t.”

“No.” Your tone hardened. “But you didn’t choose me either, did you? Not back then.”

He blinked. “You think I didn’t choose you?”

“You slept with her,” you said simply. “You played house with a woman I once loved, and then looked surprised when I didn’t fall to my knees in eternal gratitude for your affections later.”

He set the knife down gently. “That was never love. That was cruelty. Toward you. Toward her. A performance for the sake of preservation.”

You stared at him. “And me? What am I, Hannibal?”

He took a slow step forward, hands stained with juice and something more metaphorical. “You are not a performance. You are my reality. My consequence. My equal.”

“Then don’t flinch when I speak of her,” you snapped. “Don’t act like the goddamn victim when you pushed her off a balcony and then asked me to toast to it over chianti.”

Hannibal stepped close, his breath touching your skin, his voice silk-wrapped steel. “And what will seeing her give you? Closure?”

“No,” you said, lips quirking. “Satisfaction.”

TWO WEEKS LATER (BALTIMORE, MARYLAND)

Alana did not look thrilled to see you. She opened the door of her home, draped in wine-colored silk and shadows, blinking like she’d just seen a ghost. Her hair was longer than you remembered, loosely curled, and her expression read like a strained symphony—grief, horror, disbelief, and a bitter trace of something else. Guilt, maybe.

“You,” she said sharply, breath catching. “How are you—?”

“Alive? Beautiful? Better dressed than last time?” You smiled wide, baring teeth. “Hi, Alana.”

Her jaw tightened. “You were with him.”

“You say that like I was abducted,” you replied, stepping past the threshold uninvited. “But no—I chose him.”

Alana turned, following you inside like someone escorting a live bomb. “You helped him escape,” she said, voice rising with each syllable. “You chose a murderer over everyone who trusted you. Over me.”

You raised a brow. “You mean the same you who dismissed every warning I gave you? The one who said I was overreacting because Hannibal was too refined to be suspicious?”

“That doesn’t mean—”

“Don’t pretend you cared. You never believed me. Not once. You were so determined to protect the fantasy that lived inside your head to take my words seriously.”

“Get out,” she said, low and tight.

But you kept going, the same way a knife keeps going after its broken skin. “You laughed when I warned you that Hannibal was hiding something—and for what? To keep Hannibal, a man who didn’t even love you, in your bed because he was some sort of compliment to the idea of what you deserved?”

Alana stiffened, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. The words had been burning a hole in your chest for months. “You needed him to be perfect because if he was perfect and you had him, then that made you perfect too, didn’t it?”

“I said get out.”

“Or what?” you murmured, stepping closer, voice smooth. “You’ll call the police? Tell them the man who helped the Chesapeake Ripper escape just wandered back into town for a social call? Try it. I dare you.”

Alana's face twisted with fear.

Lovely.

It bloomed across her features like a fresh bruise—disgust, realization, and the sick churn of powerlessness she had once never thought would touch her. Not Alana Bloom. Not the clever girl with her degrees and convictions and tidy sense of right and wrong, but she wasn't untouchable anymore, and you weren’t the person she'd once dismissed.

“You know what’s funny?” you asked softly, leaning just slightly closer, voice barely above a purr. “I used to admire you. Hell, I even liked you. Tried everything to get you to look at me with anything other than that clinical detachment. Like I was some case study that didn’t quite warrant your full attention.”

Alana’s breath caught, but you didn’t let her speak.

“I sat in rooms with you, craving a glance. A real one. Not the kind you reserve for difficult patients or failed experiments. I wanted to matter to you. Stupid, right?” You laughed, bitter and low. “But then he looked at me. Really looked. And where you saw inconvenience, he saw potential. Where you saw noise, he heard music.”

“You’re not in love,” she whispered, trying to sound defiant, but it cracked under the weight of her fear. “You’re just brainwashed.”

You leaned forward, breath brushing her ear. "You say that like I mind. You think this is some kind of spell I’m under? That I got dragged into Hannibal’s madness against my will? You don’t realize, Alana...I enjoy the quiet. The art. The music. The food. I’ve developed quite the palate.”

That did it.

The slap came hard and fast, a crack of sound that echoed like a gunshot in the quiet living room. Your head turned from the force of it, cheek stinging, blood roaring in your ears. For a beat, neither of you moved. You brought a hand up, fingers gently brushing your reddening skin. And then, you laughed.

Not politely. Not cruelly. But something just shy of unhinged. The sound of a match being struck too close to kindling.

“There it is,” you said, turning back to her, your voice low and breathless. “There’s the passion I always knew was hiding under all that professionalism. Shame it only comes out when you’re hurt.”

Alana’s chest rose and fell too fast. Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t cry. Of course she didn’t. She never cried when it mattered. “Why did you come back here?” she asked, voice raw at the edges.

You tilted your head, the answer already on your tongue like a hard candy dissolving slow and sweet. “It’s petty,” you admitted, shrugging. “But I returned just to say I told you so.”

And with that, you turned and walked out of her house like smoke slipping through a broken window.

Outside, Hannibal waited inside the sleek black car, engine idling, low jazz murmuring beneath the hum of city life. He had one arm draped over the wheel, the other resting in his lap, fingers gloved in soft leather—still, composed, but you could tell he was watching the door long before you stepped through it.

The second you slid into the passenger seat and closed the door, his head turned toward you. The streetlight spilled through the windshield, casting sharp shadows across the sharp planes of his face. His eyes moved over you slowly.

Then paused.

Right there—on the red bloom staining your cheek. “Ah,” he murmured. His voice was silk over a knife’s edge. “She struck you.”

“Yes,” you said with an almost boyish grin, reclining into the leather seat. “She’s got a pretty good arm, actually. I think it surprised her more than me.”

Hannibal’s gaze lingered on the mark. His fingers flexed once on the steering wheel before letting go. Without a word, he reached over and gently brushed his gloved knuckles along the curve of your jaw, not touching the sore spot, but tracing close—like a cartographer charting his favorite ruin.

“Did she draw blood?” he asked.

“Would it matter if she had?”

Hannibal smiled faintly. “Only in that it would leave a more permanent record. And I find myself possessive of your skin.”

You chuckled. “That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever said mine.”

He withdrew his hand, then reached into the center console. A linen handkerchief, folded with crisp precision, emerged from the depths. Hannibal offered it to you wordlessly.

You took it, pressing it gently to the heat in your cheek. “I think I rattled her.”

“I’m certain you did.” Hannibal shifted into drive. “You haunt people beautifully.”

As the car glided into the night, he reached over with one hand and rested it atop your knee. It was casual, gentle—but weighty. A silent promise. “She’ll never touch you again.”

You glanced sideways at him. “What does that mean?”

His eyes stayed on the road, mouth relaxed in that maddening, unreadable way. “Only that you’ve delivered your message. And I shall deliver mine.”

You stared out the window, smiling despite yourself. “You’re so dramatic.”

“She marked you,” he said, almost to himself. “It would be rude of me not to return the gesture.”

[mrsjjongstby]

can you write for school band vocalist heeseung x student council president reader? exes to lovers? with like a bad boy x good girl vibes 🥹 please please. sorry I can't really put it in words but if u could just listen to Statue by Lil Eddie >•< u'll know what i mean hehe

okkkkkkk reallyyyyyy sorry for taking soo long but i was just confused on how to draft this! hope ull like it!

tw: mentions of break up, angst (if u squeeze ur eyes hard enough), comfort-? (lmk if there's more)

___________________________________________________________

You were order. He was noise. You were all rules and neatly organized spreadsheets. He was torn uniforms and midnight concerts.

And yet... You had once loved him like a secret only the stars could keep. It’s been months since you broke up. And somehow, the universe still makes you breathe the same air.

You pass him in the corridors. He nods. You nod. Nothing more.

Except— His knuckles are bruised again. There’s ink on his jaw. And when you give your morning speech at assembly… He’s watching you. Always.

From the back. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. But you feel it. Like he’s still singing to you, even when he’s silent.

The school festival is coming up. Student Council is in charge. Guess who’s on the performance list?

“En-hex” His band.

You groan. “Anyone but them.” Your VP shrugs. “They’re the only ones who can pull a crowd. Besides…” She lowers her voice. “He still hasn’t dated anyone else. Maybe he’s waiting for you.”

You laugh it off. But later, when you walk into the gym for prep, and he’s onstage for soundcheck— You freeze.

Because he’s singing that song.

“If you ever left me... I’d die inside…” “I can’t imagine… life without my girl...”

His voice is low, rough like smoke and velvet. But the way his eyes find you the second he sings the next line—

“You are the reason I breathe…”

You grip your clipboard tighter.

___________________________________________________________

The confrontation happens late. After rehearsals. After the festival lights dim. He finds you on the rooftop. The place you used to sneak away to.

You don't even turn when he says your name.

“Y/N.”

Your heart squeezes at how soft it sounds.

You take a breath. “What do you want, Heeseung?”

A pause. Then footsteps.

He stands beside you, looking at the sky.

“I didn’t stop loving you.” “Not even for a second.”

You scoff, eyes burning. “Then why did you let me go?”

He turns to face you, voice suddenly sharp.

“Because you were everything clean and good. And I was chaos. I thought I’d ruin you.”

You finally look at him.

Eyes tired. Voice breaking.

“But you didn’t ruin me, Heeseung. You left me.”

Silence.

The kind that’s loud in all the wrong ways.

Heeseung exhales harshly and rakes a hand through his hair.

“I thought leaving was the one good thing I could do for you.”

You shake your head, biting back the lump in your throat.

“You never asked what I wanted.”

He goes still.

Then slowly, he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“There’s a track I never released.”

You hesitate. “Why are you telling me?”

“Because it’s the only one I wrote without trying to sound cool. Or put up walls. Just… honest.”

He doesn’t hand you the phone. Doesn’t beg you to listen. Just sets it gently on the ledge beside you. Like leaving behind a part of himself.

“You don’t have to play it. You probably won’t. But it’s yours, if you want it.”

And with that, he steps back.

“You were never the problem, Y/N. You were the only thing that ever made sense.”

Then he walks away, hoodie pulled up, hands in his pockets— And for the first time since the breakup, You don’t feel angry. You just feel unfinished.

The night hangs heavy. The wind brushes past. And you stare at the phone. Thumb hovering over the screen. Not because you miss him. But because even after everything… You still want to understand him.

___________________________________________________________

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works

[teddyeddiediaz]

@911hiatuspositivity prompt: jinxed/cursed

Eddie doesn’t believe in curses. Well, he doesn’t normally but he’s getting incredibly frustrated by the universe or whatever Buck thinks creates these curses. He’s been trying to get Buck alone for the last month, to ask him out, on a date. And every time he tries something goes wrong.

First, and the closest he got, was when he asked Buck to dinner, except completely forgot to mention the whole “date” aspect. Stuttering out, “Do you want to have dinner?” to Buck, who was lounging on the couch with Chris sat next to him watching some sort of nature documentary. But had said, “yeah, course,” before jumping up and heading into the kitchen to make dinner. He’d been too nervous and frankly a bit embarrassed to even try and correct him. Still, he’s happy they ended up having an amazing family dinner courtesy of Bobby’s famous Mac and cheese recipe.

The second time was at the firehouse, when he’d asked the question, Chim who was in the locker room with them, had immediately jumped onto it, talking about how with the new baby he desperately needed a nice night out. This had then meant Hen got invited, then Ravi too, until his intimate date became an unofficial 118 night out. It was still a lot of fun, but not what he was after. He settled for sneaking soft glances at Buck as he explained to slightly bored Ravi what he had learnt recently. Buck was so expressive, gesturing wildly, and not at all caring about speaking with his mouthful. Eddie couldn’t help but find it adorable. He was so gone. He caught Hen’s eye at one point who raised a brow but he quickly looked away. 

The third time Eddie tried to ask Buck out, he’d gotten half way through “Would you like—” when his phone had started ringing with the ringtone that Buck had set up for Christopher, and he’d had to answer. The kid hadn’t even wanted anything important! Well, okay, Eddie shouldn’t say that but still. The boy had wanted Eddie to pick up something from the grocery store, and in all fairness Eddie had told him to tell him if there was anything he wanted since he had plans to go out. But talk about timing. “Would you like to go to the grocery store with me?” Eddie settled on instead, smiling like that was always his intention. “Only if we go to whole foods ,” Buck replied, because of course he did.

On the fourth and fifth attempts, Eddie had tried at the fire station, with the alarm ringing midway through both times. He’d started to believe the universe was giving him some sort of sign to give up. He’d sighed, when the bell rang, rolling his eyes at whatever God was responsible, and ran over to the truck like everyone else. When they’d returned back, Hen had cornered him in the loft. 

“What’s up with you?” Hen asked, raising he brow as though she knew everything. He wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nothing,” he responded anyway, earning an eye roll from the paramedic. 

“Oh yeah? And does that nothing have anything to do with a certain golden retriever firefighter?”

Eddie couldn’t help the blush that rose to his cheeks. Looking around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping, he sighed. “The universe hates me.”

“Since when do you believe in the universe?”

“Since the last hundred attempts at asking Buck out have gone awry.”

Hen didn’t seem at all surprised by the admission. 

“Why don’t you go ask now?” She said, gesturing over to the lounge area where Buck was sitting on the couch with his laptop resting on his legs, no doubt engrossed in another research binge with his free time.

“I tried that, twice!” Eddie whisper-shouted. “The bell rang both times,” he said with a frown. 

“Hey, Buck!” Chim shouted, appearing from seemingly out of nowhere, and Eddie’s eyes grew wide. 

“What?” Buck asked, looking up from his laptop. 

“Eddie wants to go on a date with you!” He yelled back again.

Eddie froze, eyes wide as a blush grew on his cheeks. Buck turned to look at him. “I—I—” Eddie stuttered.

Buck looked at him, tilting his head for a moment before his face broke out into a huge grin. “Okay,” he said simply.

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “O—okay?” He said, scrambling over to the couch Buck was sitting on. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Sounds good.”

Eddie was both over the moon and also pissed off by how easy that was for Chimney. “Great,” he said anyway. “I’ll pick you up, tomorrow at 6?” He’d known the other man was free, their calendars basically synced at this point. 

“Th—that sounds perfect,” Buck said. Eddie couldn’t help but notice the shade of pink that Buck’s cheeks had turned, any redder and they’d start matching his birthmark. Fuck, he was so cute.

“Good,” Eddie said, unable to think of anything else.

“Good,” Buck repeated, eyes never leaving Eddie’s.

They were both snapped out of their moment when they heard the sound of a camera clicking, Chimney looking back at them smiling. “I’ll save it for your wedding,” Chim said with a smirk, before walking off and leaving them alone again. 

Both of them dropped their gazes to the floor, nervous smiles plastered on their faces. 

“Hmm,” Eddie started, reaching over to lift Buck’s chin with his finger, a new found confidence taking over. “I’ll ask you in six months,” he winked, leaving Buck with a slack jaw, mouth opening and closing.

“Not—not if I ask you first,” he retorted. 

“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” Eddie said with a smile.

[familyromantic]

100 line prompts for your incest fanfic/imagine (mostly sibcest):

1. Only [family name], it seems, can truly love a [family name].

2. There are many wrong things in our lives. This isn't one of them.

3. Of course I love you. I've loved you since the day I was born.

4. You are my sibling, you belong to me.

5. The fact that we are related can not change my feelings for you.

6. Mom and dad are gone. We don't have to hide anymore.

7. I love you in all the ways I can and in one way I can't, too.

8. If only you weren't my brother...

9. I never wished for this to happen, but it did.

10. If this is a sin, then I'm willing to be punished.

11. They'll never separate us, I promise.

12. Let's run away together. Only you and I.

13. I swear I've never thought of my relatives like that, except you.

14. This was not just "fooling around" to me.

15. I cannot desecrate my little sister like this. I'll hate myself if I do.

16. We need to stop doing this.

17. You knew who I was to you and you didn't tell me before we fucked?

18. I fear that I pressured you into this. That you don't really feel this.

19. I regretted not what we had done, but that they found out.

20. There's no one as beautiful as you are.

21. I'm not possessive, but this dickhead doesn't deserve you.

22. Come on, it's normal for siblings to share a bath.

23. Don't call it "incest"! It's not like that!

24. I don't "love" you, I'm in love with you, in the way no brother is.

25. It's not illegal everywhere.

26. I've imagined disgusting, unnatural things with you.

27. I don't want to do an abortion. We can lie about who the father is.

28. How can you act like nothing even happened?

29. If we stay together, we have no future.

30. She's our mother. She loves us. She will understand.

31. My wife is a good woman, but she's not you.

32. Don't leave me. I have no one else but you.

33. We're an abomination. Such things don't even exist.

34. No man can touch my sister.

35. It's not allowed for humans, but we aren't ones. No one can stop us.

36. I promise I can move on, I'll be just a sibling for you, just don't push me away.

37. We've always been family, so why can't we be married?

38. Maybe the rumours about us are right.

39. You're my soulmate.

40. You know it's not just morally wrong, it's a crime.

41. I had a nightmare where our children were born monstrous.

42. I wish I could not feel that for you.

43. It cannot be forever, but stay with me tonight.

44. It would not be the worst thing we've done.

45. It's fine. No one will believe even if she tells them.

46. I guess I never even saw you as a sister.

47. We're twins. We share everything.

48. It's funny, they really act like us fucking each other is worse than us being serial killers.

49. I've rigged the documents. No one can track our relation anymore.

50. I hate to pretend they're his kids and not yours.

51. My ex was always so jealous of you and me, even as she knew we were related.

52. I'm the King, I decide what is allowed in this land.

53. We cannot kiss in public, we look too alike.

54. Maybe it's weird, but I don't wish for us not to be related.

55. At this point, it's just a family tradition.

56. Why did you tell them you were my boyfriend?

57. I know you're attractive. I'm your brother, not blind.

58. God forbid sisters are a little incestuous.

59. I can't believe they took us for a couple. We act like completely normal siblings.

60. Why do you always choose boyfriends that look exactly like me?

61. The way I feel, it's not lust. It's the purest form of love.

62. Relax, you can't get me pregnant.

63. Technically, that's not incest...

64. They've done it all the time in the past, you know.

65. I don't have anyone for my prom date, you too, right?

66. It was a brotherly kiss.

67. I don't care about morals anymore. I stopped a long time ago.

68. I'm not obsessed with my sister, I'm just acting like a good brother!

69. We're only half-siblings, it's not that bad.

70. You're my number one in the whole world.

71. I don't know if I'm confusing one type of love with another...

72. I did a DNA test. We are truly related.

73. What does the heart care about the blood?

74. I cannot live without you.

75. You know that shit is not healthy.

76. We're not gonna have a happy ending.

77. I don't even remember when I started to see you as a woman. It just happened.

78. We can adopt. Or use a donor. It's not the end of the world.

79. I used to dream you were my husband.

80. My therapist said I'm too fixed on you.

81. In another life, we'll be together.

82. I'm scared of what this meant.

83. Can't believe they cast us for lovers' roles.

84. The last thing I want is to offend you with my feelings.

85. Maybe we're not really blood-related, like in the movies. It always turns out like this in the end.

86. How can you even think of such things?

87. You think I didn't notice when you peeked at me in the shower?

88. I'm you, and you're me. We are one.

89. You're like the female version of me.

90. I always wanted things I couldn't have.

91. No one else matters. Only you and me.

92. You're my sister, it's not gay!

93. I thought I had moved on from that, but then I saw you again.

94. It seems we're cursed.

95. Let's die together and reunite in the afterlife.

96. I only distanced myself because I was protecting you from these feelings.

97. This is weird.

98. Do you think we're like Lannisters? Or "Flowers in the attic"?

99. We won't be able to come back to being just siblings after this. We can never undo this.

100. Screw the law, marry me! We'll find a way.

[cosmicwitchgod]

Okay while I couldn't sleep last night I started to think about Baby Saja and what he is like. Besides being immune to capsaicin and a master of side eye. So please enjoy my insomnia fueled thoughts:

- He is the most brutal and fowl mouthed of the Saja Boys. Not cursing is a struggle. "Googoo Gaagaa (bitch)". That's why he doesn't talk much.

- He also doesn't talk much with the other Saja Boys. He never starts a conversation and when the others try to talk to him they usually get side eye or the finger.

- So when he does talk it's usually psychological warfare.

- He's a massive asshole.

- He hates every minute of being an Idol but it's still better than being stuck in the demon world.

- He doesn't rehearse. He sees the choreography once and out of sheer willpower and lazyness he learns it instantly.

- After Gwi Mas defeat he and the other Saja Boys get resurrected/returned from the demon world/whatever. He mellows out just the teensiest bit. Which means he doesn't curse at Huntrix (but often with them) but that's it.

- He's aroace as fuck. Which doesn't mean he doesn't like to tease Huntrix and the Saja Boys. He loves that shit. He once came on to Rumi. "I wonder who kills me first? Jinu or the Girls?"

*Rumi calls her sword*

"Me."

- While he does like teasing he doesn't push boundaries. He respects Huntrix too much. This does not go for the Saja Boys tho.

- Huntrix defeat over Gwi Ma really left an impression on him. He platonically loves all of them and would murder for them. (And maybe already has. Let's just say that the girls will never have stalker problems.)

- He once ran into Celine. The damage was brutal.

- "You can call me evil if it makes you feel better, but I'm not the one who took my best friends kid in and raised her to hate herself, her entire existence, her parents and made her doubt her friendships. I didn't push her into begging me to kill her. So If I am evil, what are you?"

- He tells the girls later an abridged version ("I told her to hit the bricks.") and Rumi says that he didn't need to do that.

- "I know. I wanted to. You got rid of that assholes voice in my head. You never heard Gwi Ma so I assumed the voice you heard in your head was hers."

- Mira high fives him and Zoey attempts to pat his head. "Your funeral."

- If something goes wrong or there's chaos it's usually his doing. But as he comes off as lazy (and very much is) he rarely gets suspected.

- He and Mira are gossip buddies.

- Zoey likes to talk to him about song lyrics. He isn't helpful at all ("Could use more fucks") but his commentary gets her out of her spirals when she feels nothing goes right.

- He likes to hang around Rumi. At the beginning she felt like she had to make conversation or entertain him in some way but he just likes her presence.

- The Saja Boys have their own apartment but he always hangs at Huntrix' place.

- He has moved in without them noticing. That only changed after he raided their emergency snacks.

- "How longs have you been living here?!"

"Six Months."

"How did we not notice??"

"'cause you're workaholics. The fridge is stocked btw. You're welcome"

"..."

- He likes the baggy clothes but has gone for more dark and less jarring colors.

- He was very much forced into the "Baby" archetype. He wanted to be the "Bad Boy".

- "Dude, have you looked in the mirror? We can all pull off the "Bad Boy" but there's only one "Baby"".

- Jinu only got away with that because the others held Baby back.

- He doesn't like Jinu but he also mostly doesn't annoy him.

- Romance and Abby on the other hand share one singular braincell in his opinion and usually forget where they put it.

- Boy does he think they're stupid. What boyband needs 2 Himbos?

- He's fine with Mystery. They can not talk to each other for hours.

- Post resurrection his opinions are mostly unchanged.

- Except that he thinks Rumi is too good for Jinu. And starts flirting with her the moment Jinu doesn't appreciate her enough.

- He thinks Mira is insane for taking the 2 Himbos. "Have fun getting them potty trained."

- Zoeystery? "That checks out."

- Since the others want to continue the Saja Boys ('cause money) he gets dragged in again.

- But it gives him an excuse to hang with Huntrix more.

- He insists on writing the lyrics tho. Not out of a genuine want to express himself. No. If he writes the lyrics he doesn't have to learn them. And he gets to put in just the right amount of cursing without getting in trouble.

- The baby bottle he carries around? Yeah, that Vodka.

[skay-ali]

Bittersweet love

Yandere Mashle: Muscles and Magic characters

part 0

“You have to stop, please” you begged, shedding tears non-stop.

“Why would I?” his voice was mocking, he wasn't interested in what you were asking, as if your voice wasn't worth it.

Why was he acting this way now?

“Do you not see the damage you are causing, the destruction you will cause?”

“Why do you care about that now? ”You wanted to scream at him about how manipulative he was with you, about how he kept deceiving you.But it was true you pretended to be blind for a long time, indifferent to the evil the man was causing.

You were so blinded….

“I worry about the children” They were the reason for your despair, your tears.

Because of them your pink glasses are broken and let you see the darkness that surrounded you.

“It's cruel how you plan to use them”

“And all for a silly dream” your voice rang with venom.

“They are not your children, I see no reason for your absurd worries” He had to remind you, that none of them were your children, that they did not possess your blood, that the same man who swore to love you, only used empty words with honey to trap you, the same one who had children who knows how...That was very painful, a great tradition.

But even if they weren't your children.... Even if he cheated on you...even with a broken heart, full of pain.

You stayed, for those little children with innocent looks, with their helpless little faces, with no mother to give them the warmth they needed and the love they needed.

There was always something, a comment, an action that triggered a past memory, something that reminded you of the rare origin of children and the pain of betrayal.

“Is that how you think?” you looked at the man in front of you, he wore an empty expression, uninterested in your words, he didn't... care about you.

You walked away from the man without waiting for his response. Surely it would be another stab in your chest.

Ever since you died and ended up in a new world of magic, your life took big turns, you were faced with new problems every day of your new life.

Today was no exception, despite your confinement in your private room.

Something very strange happened.

You met two new babies.

It was supposed to be another great pain.

One more sign of the insignificant value you had for your husband.

The first baby who was carried by a maid had two marks on his face and his hair was purple. The two exchanged glances, but there was no further reaction. It was childish that you would think the following or very depressing, but in your eyes you were nothing important to that child. As much as you would try to engage in relationships, your husband's children decided that he was worth more than you.

You looked at the next baby, he showed no expression, he was much more serious than any baby you had ever met.

You were surprised not to see any marks on his face. Were you blind?

“it is like you my lady” said in a kind way one of the maidservants when she saw your curiosity for her lack of marks, you would have continued looking if the girl who was carrying the baby did not confirm what you observed.

“Is that so?”

As you stared mesmerized at the baby, the woman couldn't help but smile, seeing her mistress with an expression other than one filled with pain.

You reached out your hand to touch the baby, though before you touched the child's soft skin you recoiled, still not forgetting how the last baby cried when you tried to give it affection.

Maybe something was wrong with you?

You felt a pressure on your hand, a small, gentle pressure, but strong.

That's when you noticed it for the first time?

That wonderful child, unmarked, with no mark, no expression on his face, emotionless eyes. That little person who also looked at you.

Seeing you surprised and even a ghostly trace of a smile already lost on your face, the woman holding the baby could not help but offer it to you.

In such a cruel and merciless place, where many had to shut their mouths, turn a deaf ear and follow orders, with a cruel and cold boss and leader.... You... you were like a light, a normality.

You held the child carefully, afraid that it might fall out of your arms or that you were hurting it by holding it wrong.

It had been a long time since you had held a baby, not since your little cousins in your old life.

You cried, you cried again like you did minutes before, but this time it wasn't the typical sadness you felt, it was different.

At last there was another person or good little person looking at you.

You were no longer nothing, in a world of magic.

You had an equal, someone... Someone who looked like you.

You tried to return the child to its caregiver. You were a mess now, and you had no idea what to do with the child.

There was a problem, the baby, the little boy wouldn't let go of you, his little hands clung to your clothes as he clung to your chest with no intention of being pulled out of his comfortable state.

You felt warmth, the coldness of your so-called home disappeared, the dark landscape that tired your eyes.

In your hands rested peacefully a small being, someone who did not look at you with fear, with annoyance, with apathy, with respect. No, he looked at you with enchanted eyes, an attentive and hopeful look, or at least you think so...

You woke up, with pain, one that ran through your whole body.

The light rose around you, the rays warmed your face, you felt pain when your eyes made contact with the rays, you had to close your eyelids, because of the pain they produced.

You tried to move, to remove the discomfort of the light. You found yourself worried when your body felt heavy.

Disoriented by your new situation, you tried to organize your thoughts.

Then you remembered him, little Mash... your baby, with whom you had escaped from that horrible place you called home.

No longer carrying him in your arms, you lost the baby, after closing your eyes to rest for a moment and regain your strength.

With a new motivation to find your little one at any cost, you threw the blanket over your body to the side with all the strength you recovered.

You sighed, from the great physical effort you made.

As you tried to stand up to investigate the new place you were in and to look for your son, you fell dry on the ground.

It turned out that your body was extremely weak...

Oh... you know very well who to blame!!!

The sound of you kissing the floor was the signal to the two people playing in the living room that you had awakened.

The sky was clear, it was a light blue color with white clouds floating in the sky and forming different shapes, the wind gently swayed the leaves of the trees, the sound of birds singing and some crickets and cicadas also occasionally accompanied the atmosphere.

“He seems to be very happy, when he is with you.”

“Is that so?” you laughed a little at the words of the adult man sitting next to you.

You continued to play with Mash, who was sitting between your legs, animatedly trying to catch a butterfly that was fluttering around him.

(Well it wasn't animatedly, he was trying to catch the butterfly like an annoyed mosquito, for wanting to attack its mother).

“Here, you need it to recover” the man kindly held out a cup, the smell of chamomile tea wafting from the cup.

Regro Burnedead, what a curious man, it was like meeting your old master again.

Ever since he showed up, no, even before, ever since he found you and saved you and Mash too, this man was nothing but kind and sweet.

He cared for you until you woke up, helped you recover after you reopened your eyes, even continued to care for you now that you were showing great weakness and little sign of returning to normal.

He also cared for Mash with great dedication.

It was curious how a stranger and without much power, was much kinder, more compassionate, than the man you loved infinitely and from whom you now fled.

“I know I've repeated it a lot but... I'm sorry for being a bother in your life” you said with a bit of embarrassment, while Regro was a very generous person to have saved you and taken care of you, the truth was that you were being a bother in his life, someone who appeared out of nowhere and turned the older man's world upside down.

Because since your former master left, nothing was the same anymore, who would be so foolish to fraternize with people with no line?

And that worried you, because you were not going to abuse a person's compassion for you and your little one, you had to leave one of these days, to a destination where it is safe and that man you now despise, will never find you, and worse your little one, whom he plans to use no matter the cost for his vile plans.

“no, don't think that way” even this man's voice was compassionate, no sign of annoyance, just kindness.

“but you saved our lives and we're still tormenting you” you tried to joke, though it wasn't so much a joke.

You lowered your head and focused your eyes on your little one who was still having fun with more butterflies that appeared, you had to be strong, never collapse, never scare your little one.

But you couldn't help but start shedding tears.

You became useless again, a joke, an attempt at adulthood, which only failed. You just wanted to go back to your world.... But it was impossible, you no longer belonged there.

“That's not true Miss ___, believe it or not it was you two who saved my life”.

that you heard that took you by surprise... how could you save his life?

You looked at him, hoping to decipher what he was referring to.

“let's just say you kept him from making a bad decision” a small explanation, but his voice and face said it all, for him you two were his salvation.

“And actually it would make me very happy if you could stay as long as you need to.”

“Not out of pity, but because you two saved me.”

“and having you in my home would make me nothing but happy.”

Wow, looks like your tears wouldn't end anytime soon.

A small hand tugged at your dress, an almost imperceptible movement. You saw your little boy, holding out a flower with a butterfly on it.

Wow, it seems he noticed your mood too.

You accepted it with a smile, on your tearful face, but with a little more positivity.

Maybe, just maybe, you could change things, make things better in your life, be truly happy.

“Mash who is the woman in the drawing?” asked Finn curiously as he saw a piece of paper with the image of a beautiful woman on it.

His other friends also watched with interest. For they never expected their friend to keep in his cloak, along with his beloved cupcakes a picture that didn't look like much.

“Is she your girl?” asked Doth angrily, it couldn't be that his friend was beating him again with girls, and with someone with a beauty that was superior. No doubt he was a very lucky guy.

While his friends attacked Mash with questions, he could only look at the photo, remembering his mother with affection, it was what he missed the most during his stay at Easton Academy, no doubt he would become a visionary to return to his grandfather, and above all to his beloved mother, to protect her from any evil.

I don't know if it's just me, but so far I don't understand how mash and his siblings were born, do they have mothers, one or different, are they an experiment or something like that?

Anyway... finally I finished my draft, and I found a new translator that makes my work much easier.... weeeiiiiii

These weeks have been very exhausting, ahhh university!

I'm happy to get back to writing and relaxing, even if it's just for a few minutes before I get back to studying and the many papers.

:) :(

[meshaamem-li]

ok i officially finished housed and lemme say I love all of it, fuck anyone who told me to skip seasons 7 and 8 and go straight to the final, yeah they had a massive dip in quality but they also had some of my favorite moments in the entire show, and just because the show peaked in season 6 doesn't mean the dip was unwatchable.

also Park is a good character fight me.

[johnbioware]

"In death sacrifice- oh fuck you, and fuck the wardens." -Kayli Cousland circa 9:51 Dragon

Absolutely gorgeous commission from the very talented @lomakes. Thank you so so much once again 💜

[nortess]

Lima my murderous littol baby

[supervisormeero]

Are they ever going to let Dedra out of the ISB conference room, or is she going to spend all of Season 2 locked in there

[bardbreakfast]

they have such a fucked up relationship (jealous)

[elfieafterdark]

I'm thinking about her, that enchanting beauty. Her ethereal presence looming large like the aurora in the sky above.

Her beauty and her grace are unmatched. She is a marvel beyond reckoning. She is the pale moonlight forged into slender blade, slid between my ribs.

She is rage incarnate, vengeance of the 10 billion. She is death.

She is Cytherea the First.

Listen guys, I'm unwell about her okay? Lemme write shitty poetry/prose in peace 🤣💀

[cluescorner]

The most important thing about a Megatron ship is that it cannot end well.