#something out of his control—much like the feeling it represents

[talesofkhaos]

Spencer, much like Oliver, found himself in situations where remorse seemed like a luxury he couldn't afford. In his line of duty, he sometimes had to eliminate men who were merely products of something far more sinister. Despite the gravity of his actions, Spencer learned to compartmentalize his emotions, understanding that his role was necessary in a world filled with darkness. In his mind, he was simply doing what needed to be done to protect the innocent and uphold justice. As an FBI agent, he was trained to focus on the bigger picture, which often meant making difficult decisions without hesitation. This ability to detach allowed him to carry out his duties effectively, even when faced with morally complex situations. Yet, deep down, Spencer couldn't ignore the unsettling thrill that accompanied these acts of violence. He remembered a conversation with Cat, who had once asked him if injuring those inmates in prison felt good. Oh god, did it feel fucking amazing, he thought, as a rush of adrenaline and power coursed through him, leaving him questioning the fine line between justice and something far darker within himself. The drug had been a clandestine creation, a chemical concoction that left no evidence behind, allowing Spencer to operate in the shadows without fear of repercussion. Each time he administered the dose, he felt an electrifying sense of control, knowing he could end a life with the subtlety of a whisper. The rush was intoxicating, a dangerous dance with power that blurred the boundaries of his moral compass, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was becoming the very darkness he sought to eradicate.

Sometimes he questioned himself, wondering if this darkness was a normal part of his psyche. Spencer, a genius in his field, felt he should know the answer, yet it eluded him, leaving him in a constant state of inner conflict. The only certainty he held was the need to conceal this shadowy aspect of himself, ensuring it never overshadowed his commitment to justice. Spencer's exceptional skills in profiling allowed him to step into the minds of the unsubs with ease, understanding their darkest desires and motivations. This uncanny ability to think like them made him an invaluable asset to the team, but it also served as a perfect cover for his own inner turmoil. By excelling in his work and focusing on the profiles he created, he could mask his own struggles, ensuring that his colleagues saw only the brilliant profiler, not the man wrestling with his own shadow. Spencer found himself spiraling deeper into the abyss when Gideon left, as the absence of his mentor seemed to unleash the darkest parts of his psyche. Without Gideon's steady guidance, the urges to kill and embrace the shadows within him grew stronger, threatening to overtake his carefully maintained facade. The struggle to maintain control became a daily battle, as he fought to ensure that his inner darkness didn't consume him completely.

Then there was Maeve, who came into his life like a beacon of light piercing through his inner storm. Her presence brought a sense of calm and connection that Spencer hadn't realized he needed so desperately. With Maeve, those dark urges began to fade, replaced by an overwhelming desire to protect and cherish the newfound hope she represented in his life. Her sudden absence left a gaping void, and with it, the shadows crept back, more insistent and consuming than ever. Spencer found himself teetering on the edge, struggling to maintain the balance between his professional duties and the darkness that threatened to unravel him. The constant battle to suppress his urges became even more exhausting, as he desperately sought a new anchor to keep him grounded in the light. With each intense case that landed on his desk, Spencer found his thoughts drifting toward the unthinkable—scenarios where he could unleash his rage and rip apart the very culprits he was meant to apprehend. The consuming desire to act on these dark fantasies was frighteningly seductive, leaving him on edge and questioning his own sanity. Every moment spent in the presence of these criminals seemed to stoke the fire within him, pushing him ever closer to the precipice of his own moral abyss.

There was one case in particular that haunted Spencer's thoughts—a ruthless killer who had shown no mercy to his victims. As he stood face-to-face with the unsub, Spencer could almost feel the weight of the knife in his hand, envisioning how it would feel to drive the blade deep into the man's flesh, releasing years of pent-up fury. He imagined the twisted satisfaction of watching the life drain from the unsub's eyes, a dark laughter echoing in his mind as he contemplated crossing that line into the very darkness he fought against. But just as he teetered on the brink, a voice from deep within him whispered, urging him to give in to the temptation. It was a chilling reminder of the battle he waged daily, the seductive allure of vengeance pulling at his conscience. Yet, even amidst the chaos in his mind, Spencer knew that succumbing to this darkness would mean losing a part of himself he could never reclaim.

 Spencer was grateful for the revelation that studying and lecturing on cases provided a constructive outlet for his turbulent emotions. Diving into the intricacies of criminal behavior and sharing his insights with others allowed him to channel his dark urges into something productive and meaningful. It was this very approach that led him to Oliver. Spencer was profoundly relieved when he encountered Oliver, whose presence mirrored his own inner turmoil. Oliver, with his dark allure and enigmatic smile, seemed to harbor the same shadows that Spencer battled daily. It was as if, in Oliver, he found a kindred spirit—someone who understood the seductive pull of darkness yet possessed a beauty that transcended it, offering a glimmer of hope and redemption. It felt like the universe itself had conspired to bring these two tormented souls together, like gods weaving their fates with deliberate intent. Spencer could have mused about the ancient belief that some connections were predestined. He quoted, "Perhaps the gods have a sense of irony, binding us to those who reflect our deepest fears and desires." In Oliver, he saw a mirror of his own struggles, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was a chance for salvation. Going to Oliver's lecture was the best decision Spencer could have made. Seeing Oliver thrive despite his trauma and passionately discuss his horror book filled Spencer with admiration. As he listened, Spencer realized he wasn't just captivated by Oliver's words but had fallen in love with the man himself.

Spencer couldn't help but marvel at the serendipity of it all, how the universe had brought him to that lecture hall at precisely the right moment. Reflecting on this unexpected connection, he thought of the old adage, "Fate leads the willing and drags along the reluctant." In Oliver, he found not only understanding but also an unforeseen love that promised to illuminate his darkest corners.

Spencer felt a warmth spreading through his chest, touched by Oliver's profound perspective. He nodded slowly, absorbing the wisdom in his words, realizing how much comfort Oliver had found in these paradoxes. "You're right," Spencer whispered, his voice tinged with admiration. "The darkness might seem overwhelming at times, but it's what makes the light so precious. And maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to navigate them together." Spencer felt an inexplicable pull towards Oliver, a desire to be part of this journey through light and shadow. He didn't fully grasp the depth of Oliver's revelations, but he was certain he wanted to explore them by his side. "As they say, 'It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light,'" Spencer quoted softly, hoping Oliver would understand the commitment behind his words.

Spencer imagined Oliver as a police officer or even a profiler for the FBI, using his sharp mind to solve complex cases and bring justice. It was a thrilling thought, picturing Oliver navigating the intricacies of criminal psychology with the same insight he brought to his writing. Yet, Spencer respected Oliver's choice to channel his talents into storytelling, understanding that this, too, was a way of exploring the human psyche and confronting darkness in a meaningful way. "Honestly, Oliver, I think you would have made an amazing FBI agent," Spencer said with a playful grin. He leaned in slightly and winked, adding, "And if you ever feel like practicing, I'll gladly let you arrest me." Spencer teased, but he couldn't help but feel warmth at the compliment. Spencer truly believed Oliver had the intelligence and capability to excel in any field he chose, including law enforcement. However, he knew that Oliver's past was a barrier that had held him back from pursuing certain paths. Despite this, Spencer admired Oliver's resilience and was thankful that his journey had ultimately led him to storytelling, where his brilliance could shine in other profound ways.

Spencer's eyes widened with surprise and admiration at the beauty of Oliver's metaphor. He felt a warmth spread through him, touched by the depth of Oliver's words. "Wow, that's quite poetic," Spencer replied softly, quoting an old saying he loved, "They say the sunset is proof that no matter what happens, every day can end beautifully. And with faith, every sunrise brings new hope." "Your words remind me that each day is a chance to start anew, with fresh perspectives and possibilities," Spencer continued, his voice filled with sincerity. "In many ways, meeting you feels like my own sunrise, a new beginning that brings hope and excitement to my life." He paused, looking deeply into Oliver's eyes, and added, "I'm grateful to be part of this journey with you, wherever it may lead." This exchange was more than just playful banter; it was a moment of genuine connection between them. It underscored the importance of seeing and appreciating each other's potential, regardless of the path they chose. Their conversation served as a reminder that understanding and support could illuminate even the darkest corners, bringing warmth and encouragement to their intertwined journeys.

Spencer felt a wave of happiness wash over him as he watched Oliver's reaction, the joy on his face making the simple trick feel truly magical. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Spencer replied warmly, his own heart swelling with contentment. "It's not the trick itself, but the joy it brings that makes it special, and seeing you smile like that is the real magic for me." For Spencer, genuine connection was a rare and precious gift, offering a sense of fulfillment that he cherished deeply. The magic lay not just in the act of making Oliver smile, but in the knowledge that he could bring joy to someone he admired so much. Witnessing Oliver's happiness was a source of immense satisfaction for Spencer, as it reinforced the power of human connection and reminded him of the simple pleasures that come from sharing moments of true understanding and warmth. "There's a quote I once heard," Spencer continued, "that said, 'Magic is not just in the tricks we perform, but in the connections we make.' Being able to share this moment with you, Oliver, feels like a spell of its own." As he spoke, Spencer realized that their bond was a testament to the enchantment found in genuine relationships. With a playful twinkle in his eye, Spencer leaned in slightly and asked, "But tell me, Oliver, are you sure you haven't put some kind of spell on me? Because every moment with you feels truly enchanting?" Spencer never imagined this day would unfold so beautifully, yet here he was, basking in the warmth of genuine connection. He took a sip of his already cold coffee, barely noticing the temperature, as he felt a contentment that no hot beverage could replicate. This unexpected happiness filled him with gratitude, making him appreciate the unpredictability of life's most magical moments.

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, and a soft, delighted chuckle escaped his lips. His heart fluttered at the unexpected gesture, and a radiant smile spread across his face, one that seemed to light up the entire room. "Well, Juliet," he replied with a playful glint in his eyes, "I suppose it's time for our adventure to begin." Spencer stood up from his seat, the anticipation evident in his movements, and tossed his coffee cup into the nearby trash. With a gentle yet firm grasp, he took Oliver's hand and pulled him close, their eyes locking in a moment of shared excitement. "As Romeo once said, 'Give me my sin again,'" Spencer murmured with a teasing smile, before leaning in to capture Oliver's lips in a passionate kiss that spoke volumes of the magic they had discovered in each other.

killing his stepfather was exhilarating. there was such raw power to be had in that moment, something Oliver had been unfamiliar with up until then. it sent chills down his spine as he watched the life fading from his abuser’s eyes, the feeling of something akin to pride bursting at his seams. back then, he’d been disgusted by his lack of remorse- his stomach twisting as if he were going to lose his lunch at any given moment. he was revolted with himself and wanted nothing more than to feel guilt for killing another human being. however, Oliver didn’t feel guilt. how could he possibly feel guilt for killing someone that had made Oliver’s life a living hell ?? why should he feel guilty for that ?? he was finally freed of the curse of this man. there was nothing to feel guilty for. he shouldn’t have had to feel guilt for it. yet, he did feel guilt . . . not because he killed him, but because he didn’t feel guilt for killing him. any normal person would be overwhelmed with remorse, begging for forgiveness from anyone that would listen, but all Oliver wanted the moment he saw his stepfather die was to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. he had wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet. and that’s exactly what he’d have for the next four years of his life. with the amount of therapy and medication inserted into his body, the hallucinations had come to an almost abrupt end and peace and quiet was all that he knew.

however, as Oliver left the sanctuary of his mental hospital, and he was uprooted from everything he knew, sooner rather than later, he was cursed with reality slamming down on him. the nightmares came back in tenfold, haunting him every single night, as if to make up for lost time. he felt like a ghost, drifting through time as he tried in vain to make the nightmares go away. he did everything he could to banish them, even so much as going to his psychiatrist and talking about it, but not even she could cure the horrors of his own mind, no matter what kind of medication she put in his body. of course, she did alter his drugs and the hallucinations weren’t as tumultuous as they had been in the beginning. he wasn’t constantly seeing people with their throats slit, so he considered that an achievement. he wasn’t able to rest so easily, but at least his days weren’t haunted as much as his nights were. it’s inevitably what led him to drinking again. he was an alcoholic in college, and it only seemed to worsen after he was released from the hospital. he couldn’t handle the nightmares and the sleepwalking; he wanted it to stop, so he drank until he blacked out. unfortunately, blacking out didn’t always save him from his own personal hell. sometimes, after he’d blacked out, he’d wake up with fresh marks on his arms that he didn’t remember administrating- his psychiatrist was worried he was harming himself during his black outs, and eventually, because that concern grew to be too much, she had him admitted into rehab.

rehab did wonders for Oliver’s mental health. it stabilized him and gave him routine and it would also prove to be helpful to his recovering addiction. in the end, he spent nearly a year in rehab before he was released back into the wild and this time, he had his routine down. he wasn’t going to let anything dismantle him again and eventually, the nightmares came to an end. maybe sometimes he’d startle himself with a bad dream, but they weren’t as haunting as the ones that had terrorized him. he was finally able to catch his breath for the first time in his entire life; he was finally able to grieve the person he used to be, the person he could have been, and the person he never could be. it set in motion a lot of things for Oliver and inevitably, it led him to Spencer Reid. it’s amazing how life works like that. even Oliver was left flabbergasted by it. meeting Spencer was a chance encounter he’d never have expected, but one he wasn’t going to regret any time soon. the connection he felt with Spencer was immediate- there was just something about him that sent him reeling back, looking at him with a fresh pair of eyes, like a baby seeing the world for the first time. meeting Spencer reminds him of those soulmate stories he’s read about; like not seeing color until you meet your soulmate, for instance, and for Oliver, it was almost instantaneous. he may not have mentioned it while he was lecturing, but there was a brief moment when Spencer had raised his hand to answer one of Oliver’s questions and Oliver gave pause to look at him and it was like a burst of color expanded into his eyeline. it really was like seeing the world for the very first time; it almost left him gasping for air. fortunately, he was able to steel himself and remain steady, smiling as he called on Spencer and listened as he answered him correctly.

the universe really is bizarre like that, he supposes. sometimes you just don’t expect something to happen and are surprised when it does. Oliver supposes it is true what they say; you don’t go looking for love, you let love find you. and for Oliver, it happened to walk right into his lecture hall and sit in the front row.

he almost has to strain his ears to hear Spencer speak to him, leaning in close to get all the words in. he stares at him in wonder before swallowing a lump in his throat. oh the abyss has him in a chokehold. he knows the darkness well, but it doesn’t scare him as much as it used to. after all of the therapy he’s received and the time he’s had to recover from what he’s done, Oliver has been able to look past the abyss as something as evil, and look at it as something as necessary. you cannot have light without darkness, no matter what anyone says. they’re two sides of the same coin. as unpredictable as the darkness can be, the light can also be unpredictable. sometimes, the light disguises itself as the darkness, and sometimes, the darkness is hiding behind the light, ready to burst into flame at any given moment. it’s not all black and white- Oliver sees it in shades of gray, and he always has. “the darker the night, the brighter the stars,” he murmurs, eyes crinkling slightly. “if we didn’t have the darkness, then we wouldn’t see the beauty that is the moon and the stars. while they’re hidden in the daytime, the nighttime allows the moon and the stars to really shine- we wouldn’t even know they exist if it wasn’t for the night. i don’t see it as black and white. nothing is ever that simple.” he leans close, his breath mingling with Spencer’s, his eyes drifting shut as he breathes him in.

Oliver smiles at the sound of Spencer’s voice, eyes opening to look up at him again. he tilts his head to the side at his words, lips twitching as he chuckles quietly. “don’t worry, i have no intention of ever trying. i think i’m much too comfortable in my life to trade it for something so dangerous. i’m content just being a writer. i can go anywhere i want within the comfort of my own home. what’s better than that?” maybe in another life he’d have been a police officer or something, but after he’d been let down again and again by the police department in this life, he doesn’t see it as a possibility -even if he was legally allowed to own a gun, he still wouldn’t pursue it as a dream. that dream has long since sailed. he’ll keep writing his stories instead. they bring him joy, even if they’re dark and gruesome in their own right. it’s a fun experience for everyone involved- but especially for him who gets to create them with his own mind, something he’d wanted to do for a very long time.

Oliver’s smile softens around the edges as he looks at Spencer. he knows his hot chocolate has gone cold by now- sat forgotten on the table next to him, his attention solely on the man in front of him. he was- what was the word ?? oh, right- twitterpated. he was absolutely twitterpated by this situation, obsessed with the looming connection between them. he wouldn’t ask for anything more than this; a connection so raw and honest that it left him gasping for breath every time he thought about it. he found himself enamored, obsessed, falling head over heels . . . Spencer was the only thing he saw and he knew that as time went on, this obsession would only strengthen, never to falter. something like this is so rare, so uncommon, he was hardly going to let it slip through his fingers. “green . . .” he repeats, licking at his lips as he tastes the word on his tongue. “i guess i never even considered that color for myself. but now that you said it . . . i think you’re more than just one color. you remind me of the setting sun; shades of blues, oranges, and pinks. you’re more than just one color to me- you’re an extravagant sunset, leading into the darkness, but a promise to return again when the night becomes too much to bear. maybe then, by that logic, i suppose you’re both the sunset and the sunrise; an ending and a beginning.”

the magic trick is everything Oliver expected it to be. it brings light to an already beautiful situation, his eyes lighting up in delight as Spencer performs his trick for him. he wasn’t expecting it; the trick he chose, he’s seen it on television before at some point, he’s more than certain that he has, but it’s something special when Spencer performs it just for him. he laughs as Spencer produces the coin from behind his ear, his eyes crinkling in amusement, his laughter genuine and full. he knows he’s loud, because he can see people turning in his direction out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t pay them any mind, other than to cover his mouth with his hand to quiet himself down. after he’s done laughing, he giggles and shakes his head. “that was amazing,” he says, full of admiration and astonishment. he’s sure it was a simple trick, but it delighted him nonetheless. it did its duty- it brought him absolute joy. it’s a magical moment that he’s going to cherish for a long time to come. “i think you’re something magical,” he continues, a little out of breath as he smiles up at Spencer, reaching for his hand again and squeezing it between his own. he’s never been one to handle touch so well, but with Spencer, he’s never felt more comfortable. it was like coming home after a long day at work; it was well worth the wait and he knew that no matter the circumstance, he’d always stay right here, waiting for Spencer, just as he has all this time, even if he never knew it.

Oliver feels his cheeks warm at Spencer’s voice, glancing away in embarrassment. he doesn’t know why he feels so embarrassed when it’s something so simple, yet Spencer leaves him blushing like a schoolgirl. it’s not to say that he hates it though; he quite enjoys the feeling Spencer gives him, even if he has no words to describe it. maybe he’ll write a book about it- it wouldn’t be his first attempt at a love story, but he imagines this one would at least lead to a happy ending. he’d like to think that anyway. “i’m more than ready to discover new stories with you,” he says, voice honest, yet shy at the same time, as he glances back at him, biting at his lip in consideration. “so . . . what now, Doctor Reid ?? you ready to whisk me away to your castle ?? i think i’m ready to leave, preferably before we get kicked out for PDA.” he grins a little at that, eyes warm. then, before he can talk himself out of it, he leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to the side of Spencer’s mouth; it’s a quick kiss and he doesn’t give Spencer any time to respond before he pulls back and picks up his hot chocolate ( now cold ) from the table and takes a sip of it. he still has to pick up his things from the hotel room, probably before they decide to clean the room and kick him out, but he doesn’t see why they wouldn’t be able to do that on the way. he places his now empty cup of hot chocolate on the table and smiles. “your move, Romeo.”

[braceletofteeth]

Hira + すき

[prael]

Day 6: Revenge Or Fate

IOI/Gugudan Sejeong x male reader smut

words: 5,611 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

"What's that look for?" you ask with all the whimsy you can muster. "I only said that I bought your favourite popcorn. Why are you staring at me as if I just got down on one knee and proposed?"

"You did say you'd marry me someday," Sejeong jokes. Then she does that thing she always does when she's nervous—tugging at the lobe of her ear.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah. I mean when we are both in our sixties. When you have become the crazy cat lady and I the bachelor with a penchant for wine and cigarettes. It's not even close to that time yet."

"Why would you be smoking?" Sejeong wrinkles her nose. She knows you can't stand the smell.

"Because I'll be an ageing bachelor, duh," you answer with a dismissive wave of a hand as you sit by her on the couch. She's got her legs curled up against her chest, the way she always does when it's cold outside. You'd know—she's been sitting like that on your couch every winter since the beginning of time.

She lets out the softest of laughs before it quickly dissipates into silence. She's staring across the room, but not really looking at anything. Her face is painted in melancholy. You know her well enough to know that look, and you hate it. Hate everything it represents. You sigh. The first time you saw her like this was back as teenagers, after the dog she grew up with had been hit by a car. It still hurts your chest.

"You've got that look again," you tell her. "Like there's a million and one things in your mind and none of them particularly good."

"I'm okay. Just tired." Sejeong's smile doesn't quite convince you.

"I wasn't going to say anything. I thought you'd tell me if you wanted me to know, but it's been months since you asked me to come over on a Friday night, so something has happened. I haven't seen this much annoyance behind your eyes since the end of Game Of Thrones. What is it?"

"I'm just feeling overwhelmed, that's all. I wish you weren't so observant."

"You should be used to it by now."

Sejeong flashes a half-hearted smile and takes hold of your hand as she used to do when you were kids. You feel guilty for the way your stomach flutters.

"I guess we have always known each other better than anyone else," she admits, her hand still clasped around yours. It's warm and familiar. You feel the urge to push away, but how can you? It would give far too much away. She has always had this effect on you—you could never distance yourself from her warmth. "He's an asshole."

"You don't need to tell me twice," you chuckle. Then: "Tell me what happened."

"I think he might be cheating."

The air escapes from you at once. The way Sejeong said it is so casual, almost as if she'd resigned herself to this fate a long time ago. And here you are, trying your best to keep your anger under control, like always. But not for her sake—rather, for yours. You know where your feelings belong, and they have no place in the situation at hand. Not today, and definitely not ever. You take a deep breath and look her square in the eye.

"What did he do?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned it," she laughs nervously. She doesn't want to put any more weight on your shoulders than she already has, because that's who she is, you suppose. But how can she expect you to ignore it when she looks like a sad dog staring into the rain on someone's front porch?

"We're best friends. I want to hear everything," you insist.

"He's been acting differently lately." Sejeong pauses. "Distant. Like there's something he isn't telling me."

"Do you think there might be?" you ask carefully.

"It's always something with work. Or a friend that really needs him. Or a family member or—fuck. I don't know."

"I'm sorry."

Sejeong sighs and runs a hand through her hair. There are unshed tears in her eyes. This bastard is making her cry. You want to smash something, preferably his head.

"I don't wanna bother you with this shit," she whispers. She sounds exhausted.

"Don't say that," you retort softly, squeezing her hand in yours. It's clammy. "Don't ever say that again."

She gives a curt nod.

"God knows I've told you enough about my romantic misadventures over the years," you joke. Your chest tightens when Sejeong lets out the tiniest of laughs. Maybe you can still make this right, whatever this is. "Misery loves company."

"You know," she begins, pausing to look at you properly. There is something unreadable in her gaze, something that you've never seen before. It makes you hold your breath in anticipation of whatever is to come. "If there's one person I could choose to be miserable with, it would be you."

For a brief second, you forget that time exists.

"Well, I'm very honoured," you reply eventually. There's another pause where you ponder what to say next. Then, simply, because that seems like the easiest answer: "Do you want me to go beat him up?"

Sejeong laughs and punches you in the arm.

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Yeah, but exceptions must be made sometimes."

She raises an eyebrow at you. You can't tell what she's thinking. "For me?"

"Yes."

It feels like standing on a cliff. You want nothing more than to jump, to feel freefall in your whole body. The only problem is that you'll most certainly die. The ground below is made of jagged rocks and bad ideas. Yet, here you stand, willing to do anything in the world for the beautiful girl next to you. Even if it means lying broken beyond repair.

Sejeong breaks your trance when she explains, "There's this girl he works with. We had dinner together with some people from their office two weeks ago, and... I don't know. They just seemed off. She kept looking at him. You know that look? The one where they linger on someone just a bit too long."

"So that's what gave it away?"

"Well, that and the rumour. They had a thing before he met me. It's over now, or it was." A single tear rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly, seemingly irritated at herself. You frown. Sejeong has no reason to be ashamed of being hurt. She should be allowed to shed tears, even buckets full if necessary. You wouldn't judge. "At least that's what he said. He promised me it was over. But... God."

You reach forward to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her lips tremble, so you quickly move your eyes back up. Staring at her lips is dangerous territory.

"You don't deserve this shit," you say resolutely.

Sejeong chuckles sarcastically. "Then why do I keep ending up here?"

That question stings. Not because it's directed at you—it isn't—but rather because you know the answer. Sejeong has been in this kind of position too many times to count. She attracts guys like honey does flies; every single time, with no exceptions. Only the worst seem to make it past the rest. Sejeong gets caught in their deceitful net time and time again, only to inevitably break her heart after months and months of manipulation disguised as devotion.

"Want my honest answer?"

"Yes."

"I think it's because you're the sort of person that believes the best in everyone. And that is a beautiful trait. I love that you do that. I really do. But sometimes..." you trail off, not quite sure how to continue without sounding accusatory.

"Sometimes I get screwed over," Sejeong finishes. You nod in response. "You're right. I guess it's my fault for trusting too easily."

"No," you shake your head. "It's not your fault. That part is absolutely wonderful. It's just..." You're suddenly hesitant. What if Sejeong takes this the wrong way and shuts you out?

"What?" she probes.

"Have you ever heard the expression 'you can't see the tree for the woods'?"

"Sounds stupid."

"It means you can't see what's right in front of your nose," you explain.

Sejeong stares at you for a long time. You think she understands, but it's impossible to know. It would probably be better that way—if she understood and did nothing about it. You aren't supposed to feel this way about her. How many times haven't you imagined what it would be like if things were different? If circumstances were perfect, if her current guy hadn't appeared out of anywhere and swept her off her feet before you'd even realised what was happening.

But that's just your luck.

"Thank you," Sejeong whispers. "Can we, um, watch something? I don't wanna think about this right now."

You let out an awkward cough. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. Do you remember when you forced me to watch Twilight, and I spent the entirety of the movie complaining about how terrible it was?"

"You still watched all of them with me." A tiny grin appears on her face. Thank God.

"That was truly the highest form of torture," you joke. "I hope you brought something better today. Please don't tell me you downloaded another movie about sparkly vampires."

Sejeong punches your arm. "I'll have you know I am extremely cultured nowadays."

"Yeah? Show me then."

A couple of hours pass and everything feels decidedly normal. You rest against the arm of the couch and Sejeong rests against you. You make jokes at the expense of the film as you always do and she laughs that soft, carefree laugh of hers. The credits roll and Sejeong sits up, stretching her limbs like a cat after a nap. You smile at the familiarity of it all. For a moment it doesn't matter what she has—or hasn't—been crying over.

"I'm tired," she says. She blinks slowly as if to prove it to herself. It's quite endearing, actually.

"Yeah?" you ask nonchalantly.

"Will you let me stay here tonight?" Her voice is small, unsure. But why? It's not the first time she has stayed here. This place is practically a second home to her.

"Like you need to ask," you retort lightly as you stand up and look down at her.

She opens her mouth to speak, but that's when her phone rings. When she sees his name flashing across the screen, she visibly freezes. Annoyance seeps into you like acid rain. His nerve—to call at such an hour, and expect her to pick up. Sejeong just watches, almost paralyzed, until eventually, she does pick up.

"Hey," is all she says. The reply is much longer. You can't make out the words he's saying but the tone tells you all you need to know.

"I was going to," Sejeong replies tersely. Silence. Then: "I told you already, I went over to—" Pause. She swallows thickly. "You didn't tell me you were going out." A longer stretch of silence, during which his voice gradually increases in volume. Suddenly Sejeong sits bolt upright. Her eyes grow wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Me!?" She shouts. "He's my best friend! I wouldn't—" Another pause. She takes a deep breath. "No. No, that isn't fair. You can't—"

It sounds like he hangs up. Sejeong doesn't move. Her hands are shaking violently.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"I should go home," she murmurs flatly.

"To him? To the guy who's probably just fucked his co-worker?"

Sejeong turns to glare at you, eyes cold as ice. You immediately regret your words.

"I'm sorry," you quickly amend. "That was uncalled for. It's none of my business. I shouldn't have said that."

"Why?" she asks bluntly. Your heartbeat picks up in a hurry. There's anger in her eyes. Anger that could turn against you so quickly.

"Why what?" you reply defensively.

"Why don't you wanna be with anyone? You've rejected every single person who's tried to get close to you since we were sixteen. There's got to be a reason."

The world grinds to a halt. Time, space, and life itself stop existing for a minute while you consider your options. On the one hand, you could lie; come up with a suitable excuse and maybe she won't push for more. On the other hand, you could simply admit to the truth that's haunted you for years.

You open your mouth. Close it. Fuck.

Sejeong stands up, wading in the silence towards you. You can't help but take a step backwards. In that split second, you're sure she knows—and yet you cannot tell.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Sejeong demands to know.

Your heartbeat roars in your ears. "I don't understand why you're asking me this," you choke out. A part of you wishes you were back there on the cliff. At least then you could've jumped off of your own accord, with a little dignity left intact.

"I need to know," is all Sejeong says. Her gaze is relentless. You hate it. It makes you want to claw your own skin off—and there are truths under there that you plan to take to the grave.

"Why?"

"Because I need to know if what I'm going to do next is the right thing."

She stands beside you now. On the edge of that cliff, though it's starting to feel more like you're on the roof of your car. Staring up at the stars on some forgotten summer night. The jump seems more like a flight.

"I have," you admit. Somehow it seems easier than to try and fight whatever force is controlling the both of you. It feels strangely liberating.

"But you won't allow yourself to do anything about it." You know her well enough to discern a question from a statement, no matter how carefully she might try to veil them as the latter.

"It's complicated," you say quietly. She's so close to you now that you can hear the hitch in her breath. Why is she pushing this? "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes flit from yours to your lips, then back again. So quickly. One, two. But you saw it. And your entire body tingles in anticipation. You'll dare move away—not now, not when the leap of faith feels more like a hop.

She doesn't say anything else. One more small step and her body collides with yours. Lips press against lips and suddenly, all thought scatters. Sejeong tangles her fingers through your hair and pulls. A gasp escapes you before you regain control and kiss her properly. It's frantic, rushed. Years of pining bleed out with every touch. You grab her, pull her as close to your body as possible, and lose yourself completely. Something is swelling inside you. A feeling so large and uncontainable that you think your chest is going to explode any second.

It is indescribable.

All of it—the sensation of kissing her, holding her—surpasses description. You're falling from that cliff, but she's holding you, and before you can hit the rocks she's dragging you to the couch and climbing on top of you.

It feels unreal. The entire world disappears as your lips find hers again and again and again. You don't care to question what happens after. This moment is yours, forever branded in your memories, and nothing can take that away from you. Even if it ends here—even if she were to walk away now—it would've been worth it. Completely and irrevocably.

When you finally part to catch your breath, you can't help but stare at her in awe. She's so beautiful. A masterpiece. Your hand moves to her cheek almost automatically. Sejeong lets her head fall against it with a soft sigh.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," you croak.

"Please don't regret this in the morning." Her voice is so quiet, filled with so much pain, that it breaks your heart. Your own fears are secondary.

"I never could," you breathe. Then you lean in to kiss her again, slower this time, savouring every sensation as if it might be the last. By some miracle she responds eagerly, fingers wrapping around the collar of your shirt as she holds you steady. You have no idea where this leaves the two of you, but you want her closer—now. You reach around and slide your hands under her thighs, pulling gently upwards. She follows your lead, settling against your lap in a way that makes the situation undeniably real.

As you kiss, her hips start moving back and forth. Soft, shallow movements. Little whimpers escape her throat and fall directly into your mouth. Fuck. She moans—actually moans—into the kiss and a violent shiver travels through your whole body. You break away momentarily to look at her face, flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes staring back at you.

"Do that again," you whisper against her lips.

"Make me," she pants.

The next kiss is searing, open-mouthed, and accompanied by Sejeong grinding her hips against you. Harder now. Unrelenting. Your hands travel up her waist, slipping beneath her blouse to feel warm skin underneath. You feel every tremble of her body when your fingernails drag lightly across her flesh. A gasp—then she leans backwards, with her arms outstretched and clinging behind your neck, to look you dead in the eye as she continues moving her hips against you.

"Sejeong... What are we—"

"Shh."

Your hands snake further up her shirt. Her back arches in response as she grinds down hard, moaning loudly. Your eyes flutter shut briefly to enjoy the sensations—the sounds—coming from her. You force them open once more because you can't miss this show for anything. You push the shirt up and over her chest. Her hands slip from behind your neck momentarily so that you can get the garment over her head. And then she is there before you, bra and sweatpants-clad, panting softly and waiting.

"Sejeong—"

"Fuck me." It is barely more than a whimper, but it rattles the very core of your being.

"What?"

She lunges forward and kisses you forcefully. There are tears in her eyes—tears you didn't notice until now. Her desperation bleeds through.

"Please," she whispers into your mouth, her voice breaking slightly. "Please."

You can't deny her. How could you? You're unfastening the clasp of her bra and your hands are everywhere on her. Pulling her closer, exploring every inch of bare skin you can get your hands on. Her fingers start unbuttoning your shirt—clumsily, but getting the job done. Once open, her nails dig into your bare shoulders, as if testing out whether you're really here, tangible and real. As if you could disappear at any moment and leave her stranded. A loud groan escapes her when your fingers brush against her nipples.

"You're so fucking beautiful," you murmur into her ear. She whines at the words, nails digging deeper into your skin.

The friction between your legs is driving you mad. You've got the burning urge to pick her up and slam her into the nearest wall, but you savour what you have. First, you kiss her neck, then it's a trail down her collarbones. Your teeth nibble playfully at the skin until she moans, begging you to do something. You obey, leaning in to flick your tongue across a nipple before swirling it around the bud. Her fingers fly into your hair and hold you against her breast.

"Holy shit."

Your mouth latches on tighter. Sucking. Biting. The heat pooling between you grows more intense. Eventually, you detach and move on to the next, eliciting more delicious sounds from the girl above you. All those nights spent fantasising about exactly this don't come close to the real experience. You're supporting her, around the waist and the small of her back, while she leans back in your lap, presenting herself to you.

You appreciate every inch of her slender figure. By eye and then by tongue. You draw constellations along her skin, your touch is feather-light. Across her toned stomach to her hips, then right up the side of her body. She throws an arm above her head and giggles lightly as you lick all the way up underneath it. You follow a path to her armpit. Sejeong giggles more when you begin to nibble there too. When you raise your eyes to meet hers she blushes fiercely.

"Weirdo."

"Just appreciating you," you murmur, pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and up to her neck.

"Mm. I like it," she replies hoarsely.

So you spend some time like this. Appreciating her bare body and making her squirm. Kissing, licking, and biting everything that you can possibly reach until her writhing becomes borderline violent. Then she grabs a hold of your jaw, looks you deep in the eyes, and utters the most sinful words you've ever heard her say.

"Enough teasing. I want to ride your cock now."

Every inch of you lights on fire. From your forehead to the tips of your toes, you feel flames lick at your insides. Sejeong climbs off you without another word and starts pushing her sweats from her hips. You watch, spellbound, as she wiggles out of them. Her panties follow suit.

Then she turns to face you. Standing fully nude, absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word. A goddess. Every bit as perfect as you had imagined. Even your fantasies weren't this good; nowhere near as intoxicating as this moment right now.

"You have ten seconds before I sit on your face instead," she deadpans, you both laugh. At least she hasn't lost her humour.

You unbuckle your belt and shuffle them down as best you can while still seated. Enough that she can reach down and pull your cock free from its confines. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull when she wraps her slim fingers around it. Pumping up and down. You're hard already, unbelievably so, and when she drags her thumb across the head of your dick it actually twitches. You suck in a deep breath, willing yourself to focus.

And then she sits on your lap, sliding along the length of your cock. Fuck. She repeats it a few times. Back and forth, slicking your cock with her wetness.

"I always pictured this," she admits.

"Really?" you croak.

"God yeah, I remember back in college. I must have rubbed one out to you more times than I can count." She smirks at you then—a wicked smirk that makes your entire body shiver. A filthy admission to you and you only. She does it again, drags her wetness along you. How on earth are you supposed to remain composed when she says things like that and does things like this? You wrap an arm around her back and pull her closer, staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time.

"You can't say things like that, I'm gonna—"

She cuts you off with her tongue in your mouth. Kissing you like it's the last thing she'll ever do, and your lips the only form of sustenance she'll ever need. It gives way to her frantic little moan, desperate and unrestrained. For the life of you you can't comprehend what is happening, only react, and fuck if it isn't the most incredible experience you've ever had. Her skin is burning against yours, hungry and yielding to your every touch.

Sejeong shifts slightly and grabs a hold of you properly. Your eyes widen when the tip of your dick brushes against something wet, warm, and soft. The very centre of her. She repositions herself, now holding you carefully against her, and then... slides down the length of your cock, pausing halfway down. The pleasure is so acute that you cannot control the way your back arches off the couch, and neither do you control the profanities that spill out from your lips.

A sinful grin spreads across her face. As her legs are pinned around your waist, you cannot move, but Sejeong certainly can. And boy, does she know how. She starts bouncing herself up and down, riding you so expertly and looking so good doing it. You've thought of this so many times—having sex with your best friend, of all people—but you did not picture it like this.

"This okay?" she murmurs in your ear. You hear the smile in her voice.

You utter the only word you can muster: "Yes."

She laughs airily, placing a kiss on your temple as she continues her rhythm. When she moans—a long, drawn-out moan, half-pained, half-pleasured—and throws her head back, you stare up at her, eyes drinking in the beauty that is in a position so incredibly vulnerable yet completely in control. How you long to capture this moment and keep it somewhere safe forever. She looks down at you now. Her heavy-lidded eyes pin you to your spot as much as the physical manifestation of her pinned against your skin. She traces her fingers down your jaw, your neck, and the top of your chest.

"I wish he could see me now," Sejeong hisses, anguish evident in her voice.

"You look so fucking good."

"He doesn't know what he had," she laughs bitterly. "Fuck him."

"Fuck him," you echo. Sejeong smirks and moves her hips more fluidly. Goddamn. Her tight little cunt feels so perfect clenched around your cock.

She watches your face closely as she keeps riding you. As you keep clutching her hips and help her along, grinding deeper. Groaning when she throws her hips forward faster and faster. Her cunt is so hot and tight. She sucks at the life seeping out of your pulsating cock and squeezes it with her inner muscles in ways that no one has ever done before. Sometimes she pulls completely off you, her breath shuddering as you twitch, only to take you deep inside her again.

Your hands have a mind of their own, sneaking upwards to grip her neck. You give it a gentle squeeze, just enough to get her attention. All the while you're staring intensely into her eyes. They've become glassy, intoxicated, more than just wanting but longing for it. Her voice is hoarse, strained, as she says, "How have I been so stupid? All this time—you're right here, and I never—"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters."

"You're so—fuck."

Her body trembles and she falls forward onto you. She's gripping your arms, nails sinking into your flesh. Sejeong's breath grows increasingly laboured. After a long string of expletives, she lets her head rest on your shoulder as you snake an arm around her back and support her. Her whole body is rigid, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

"Never felt this good," she forces the words out amid moans as you buck your hips up into her, picking up the slack as she begins to falter. The rhythm is quick now, urgent, filled with unbridled passion and everything left unspoken for too long.

When Sejeong cums, you feel it all around you—her pussy quivering, leaking her arousal around you, dripping down your thighs and saturating you, almost drowning in the intensity. It makes her moan into the crook of your neck and rock her hips, fucking herself while trying desperately to quiet the sounds of her ecstasy against your body. But that is unthinkable, to silence someone like that, and you tell her so. Whispering the filthiest things in her ear as she throbs around your cock, dragging out the last tremors of pleasure of her orgasm as much as you possibly can. She spills everything out into your shoulder, every word, every whimper. Until at last, you can feel her sagging in your lap, breathing heavily and spent.

"Keep going," she pants, tightening her grip on your arm. "Don't stop."

She throws herself to the side, pulling you with her, and somehow lands flat on her back with your body on top of her. You wince at the sudden shift. But not for long. Because Sejeong opens her legs wide, hooks her calves around your hips, and tells you again not to stop.

You smirk and lean forward, trapping her beneath your body and capturing her lips in a sensual kiss. It is deliberate, lingering. Her arms fly up and tangle themselves through your hair, locking you together. When your tongues meet, you sigh deeply against her. There is a warmth settling over you. Languid, dream-like. Like you're both floating through clouds, carried away by the sweetest of breezes.

There is nowhere else in the world that you would rather be than right here, between her legs.

You rock into her, once, then twice, each time more intense than the last. The angle is entirely different. You grab a hold of one of her legs and hitch it up a bit, allowing yourself to thrust deeper inside her.

"Are you okay?"

"Mm. Move slower. Nice and slow," she instructs.

And you do. Eventually, a hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck. Sejeong stares into your eyes and your breath catches. Then you're kissing, again and again, but there is not so much desperation and anger anymore, but something else. It is the feel of her hips meeting yours, the way you press your bodies together, the softness of her lips and the taste of her mouth. Her breaths rush from her lips to yours, from hers into you.

Sweat starts to bead at your temples as you rock into her. Slow, deep, patient strokes. It is not desperate fucking anymore, or an attempt to pour all of your heartbreak into some meaningless action. It's almost reverential—the way you're holding each other, soft and sure. A sweet torture, a sublime suffering, for as long as time allows.

You don't talk. Your mouths say nothing, at least. With your bodies, however, your fingertips whisper praise against her skin. Spirits float free and serenade each other. Sounds escape her that you haven't even dreamed of. Broken, wanton, as if wrenched out of her. They rise above and meet in a higher plane of reality, where two minds are one.

It takes time. A slow build to the crescendo. You know when you've struck the final note by the way she cries out, over and over again, her pretty little hole convulsing, spasming around your cock. She wants to squirm away but has nowhere to go. You refuse to let her. You smile against her neck and sink your teeth into the skin there.

Soon you follow, groaning her name into the warm flesh. It's a flood—your insides are melting, pouring out from your loins and into her heat, her insides contracting, trapping every ounce inside. Hot, sticky, yours. This feeling. It is as if your heart has grown wings, a phoenix born anew from the ashes of who you used to be. You don't have to be lost anymore. She will carry you, always, her fingernails tracing patterns in your damp skin. There is nothing to fear.

Sejeong whines and moans softly as you fill her. One more careful thrust and you still, collapsing on top of her as the waves subside. All the while she is there, stroking the back of your neck and quietly reciting every piece of filth that she can think of.

You wonder whether this will last longer than the night.

God. Would you be okay with that?

When you eventually move back to look at her, to make sure she's okay, there are tears in her eyes. Uncertainty overwhelms you. Before you can react, before you can ask what is wrong, Sejeong cups your cheek. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. This girl. All these years. All the wasted time. It feels right being with her; everything is finally where it should have been all along.

"You were worth the wait," you breathe. You place a kiss against her brow before rolling off and settling next to her.

"Do you..." Her voice fades. She runs a finger along your collarbone, eyes anywhere but yours. "Do you want this to be a one-time thing?

"No," you answer without hesitation. You catch her hand in yours, entangling your fingers, willing her to understand everything that you're unable to tell her.

Sejeong smiles. Genuine, unapologetic. For the first time in months, she looks happy. Fuck him, indeed. "Good," she says with a soft laugh that evaporates any of her lingering doubts. Her eyes flick to your lips and she whispers, "So, uh, we've got some lost time to make up for."

"Yeah?" you whisper while rolling her back over and climbing over her. "If there's a debt to be paid..." You start trailing kisses down her neck, down her sternum, grinning at the tiny shivers it elicits. "What better time than now?"

Your kisses lead you over her toned stomach. Once you reach the juncture between her thighs, you pick up her leg and set it over your shoulder. Sejeong is already squirming, anticipating what is to come. You take a look at her—mussed hair and flushed cheeks, mouth slightly open, beautiful, tempting. It feels almost gratuitous—that you're able to see her like this. It makes you pull her even closer, and stick your tongue into her center. Her upper body lifts almost immediately and her eyes fly open. A shaky whimper leaves her lips.

She's right. There is a lot of catching up to do. Luckily for her, there's still the whole night ahead of you and a lot more you'd like to show her.

[xo100]

Shifting gears - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando and you, childhood best friends, discover a deeper connection during a drive in his new Porsche. After discussing his playboy image, the conversation takes an unexpected turn, leading to a realization of long-hidden feelings and shifting your relationship from friendship to something more romantic and intimate.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 2250

masterlist / community / request

౨ৎ

The afternoon sun filtered through the tall trees that lined the road, casting dappled shadows over the sleek Porsche as it cruised effortlessly along the winding asphalt. The roar of the engine was almost hypnotic, a perfect blend of power and control, much like its owner. Lando Norris gripped the steering wheel with ease, his fingers drumming absentmindedly as he glanced over at his passenger—his best friend, someone who had been by his side since they were kids.

While Lando had built a reputation for himself as a playboy—charming, confident, and always with a new girl on his arm—you were the complete opposite. Introverted, quiet, and shy. But that’s what made your friendship so special. You balanced each other out.

Today, though, something felt a little different. Maybe it was the car, the air of freedom and luxury it represented, or maybe it was the conversation you were having that shifted the mood. Either way, the usual playful banter between the two of you had taken a slightly more serious turn.

“So, who’s the flavor of the week this time?” you teased, your voice light but carrying a hint of genuine curiosity as you shifted in the leather seat.

Lando chuckled, a low, throaty sound that seemed to vibrate through the car. “Not sure yet. You know how it is,” he replied with a smirk, his eyes never leaving the road.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no judgment in your expression. “Yeah, I know exactly how it is. You with some random girl, one night, maybe two if she’s lucky, and then you’re off to the next. It’s like you’re collecting trophies or something.”

He shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I’m just… having fun. Life’s short, you know?”

You snorted softly. “For you, maybe. I can’t even imagine doing that. Just… being with someone like that, without any meaning. Doesn’t it get old?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, finally glancing over at you. “Why, you thinking about trying it out?” he teased, though his tone carried a hint of something deeper, something that wasn’t quite a joke.

Your face flushed, and you quickly turned to look out the window, trying to hide the sudden rush of heat that crept up your neck. “No,” you muttered, “I’m not like that.”

Silence filled the car for a moment, the hum of the engine the only sound between you. Lando’s eyes flickered back to the road, but his expression was thoughtful now, less playful than usual. “You don’t always have to be so… sweet, you know,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter, almost serious. “It’s okay to let loose sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less… you.”

You blinked, surprised by his words. He wasn’t wrong; you were the “sweet” one, the one who always cared too much, worried too much. But hearing Lando say it so bluntly made you feel strangely vulnerable, like he could see right through your carefully crafted exterior.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who’s constantly in the tabloids for having one-night stands with half the population,” you shot back, the words harsher than you intended.

Lando laughed, though there was a sharpness to it. “Touché. But you know, it’s not as glamorous as people make it out to be.”

You frowned, turning back to him. “What do you mean? You always seem like you’re having the time of your life.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, it’s fun, I guess. But it’s not… real, you know? It’s just… I don’t know. It’s easy. I’m used to it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. You had never heard him talk like this before, so openly about the lifestyle he had embraced. It wasn’t like him to get deep, not about this.

“Then why do you keep doing it?” you asked quietly.

Lando glanced at you, and for the first time, you saw something different in his eyes. Something almost… uncertain.

“Because it’s easier than thinking about what I really want,” he said softly.

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded with meaning. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond, your heart suddenly racing for reasons you couldn’t quite explain.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled the car off the main road, slowing down as he drove into a secluded spot overlooking a lake. The car came to a stop, and the silence that followed was deafening. He turned off the engine, and the two of you sat there, the tension in the air thick and palpable.

“I mean…” Lando began, his voice low, almost hesitant, “I’ve been with a lot of girls, sure. But none of them were ever you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “What?”

He turned in his seat to face you fully, his expression serious now, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “You. You’re different. You always have been.”

Your mind was racing, trying to process his words, but all you could focus on was the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“But we’re… friends,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

“I know,” Lando said, his gaze never leaving yours. “And that’s why I’ve never said anything before. But… I don’t know. Lately, it feels like things have changed. Like maybe we’ve changed.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had always been close to Lando, but you had never let yourself think about him like that. He was Lando—the charismatic, carefree playboy who was always with someone else. But now, sitting here in the quiet of his car, it was hard to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest, the way his words made your stomach flip.

“I…” you started, but you didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

Lando leaned closer, his hand coming to rest on the edge of your seat, his eyes searching yours for some kind of answer, some kind of sign. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “And I will.”

But you didn’t tell him to stop. You couldn’t.

Instead, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was slow at first, hesitant, like neither of you were quite sure if this was really happening. But then something shifted. The kiss deepened, and suddenly it was like everything that had been simmering under the surface for years had finally come to a head.

Lando’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with more urgency. You could feel the heat of his body, the way his heart was racing just as fast as yours. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and before you knew it, you were climbing over the center console, straddling him as the kiss grew more heated, more desperate.

You had never done anything like this before—never been this close to someone, never let yourself be this vulnerable. But with Lando, it felt… right. Like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

His hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You gasped as he kissed a trail down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Lando,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looked up at you. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough, barely controlled.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes.”

The next few moments were a blur of tangled limbs and heated kisses, the world outside the car fading into nothing as you lost yourself in him, in the way he made you feel. It wasn’t rushed or careless like you had imagined his one-night stands might be. It was slow, deliberate, and full of a kind of intensity you had never experienced before.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, it was over. You found yourself lying in his arms, the cool leather of the seat beneath you, your breathing still ragged as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Lando’s hand stroked your hair gently, his touch comforting, grounding. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You nodded, snuggling closer to him. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m okay.”

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The sun had begun to set, casting a golden glow over the lake, and the quiet between you was no longer filled with tension, but with a kind of contentment you hadn’t expected.

Finally, Lando broke the silence. “You know… I didn’t plan for this to happen,” he said, his voice low. “But I’m glad it did.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Me too.”

He shifted beneath you, turning slightly so he could look down at you. “So… what does this mean for us?”

You thought about it for a moment, your mind still spinning from everything that had just happened. But when you looked up into his eyes, you knew the answer.

“It means… maybe we’ve changed,” you said quietly, echoing his words from earlier.

Lando smiled, a real, genuine smile that made your heart

skip a beat. He cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your stomach flutter.

“I guess we have,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. It was such a simple gesture, but it held a weight of everything unspoken between you. Years of friendship, of shared memories, of teasing and laughter—all of it led to this moment. The line you’d been dancing on for so long had finally blurred, and neither of you could deny it anymore.

For a while, you just lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, basking in the comfortable silence that followed. The world outside the car seemed distant, irrelevant. It was just you and Lando now, and that felt right.

Eventually, though, the practicalities of life started to creep back in, and you couldn’t ignore them forever. You shifted slightly, sitting up in the seat, the reality of what had just happened slowly settling in.

“So… what now?” you asked, your voice quiet, as if speaking too loudly would break the fragile newness of what had just formed between you.

Lando sat up too, his hand still resting on your thigh, a small, reassuring gesture. He looked at you thoughtfully, as if considering his words carefully. “I don’t want this to be some random, one-time thing,” he said slowly, his voice steady. “You’re not like those girls. You’ve never been. I don’t want to screw this up.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell at his words. “I don’t want that either,” you admitted. “I’ve never thought of us like this before… but now, I can’t imagine it any other way.”

His eyes softened as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, more tender, as if sealing the promise between you. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm on your lips.

“I’ve liked you for a long time,” Lando confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Your heart skipped again, but this time it wasn’t from nerves—it was from the overwhelming realization that you felt the same way. Maybe you’d always felt it, buried somewhere deep down.

“I think I’ve always liked you too,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly at the confession.

Lando’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and joy. “Good. Because I’m not letting you get away now.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt simple. No more games, no more hiding behind jokes or casual flings. Just you and Lando, finally facing what had been there all along.

The sun was almost set now, casting a soft orange glow over the lake as the two of you sat there, side by side, in the quiet of the Porsche. The future felt uncertain in the best way possible, full of possibilities and new beginnings.

Lando gave your hand a squeeze, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You know,” he said, a teasing glint in his eye, “I think this Porsche might be my new lucky charm.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Of course you would say that.”

He grinned, that familiar cocky smile back in full force, but this time it was softened by something else—something deeper, more real. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll take you home. But tomorrow… maybe we can go for another drive?”

You nodded, your heart light as you leaned over to kiss him one more time. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

As Lando started the car and pulled back onto the road, you couldn’t help but glance over at him, your best friend—your something more now—and feel grateful for every twist and turn that had led you here.

And as the Porsche sped down the road, the two of you heading into an uncertain future, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

౨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[viinchester]

Shape Of You

Warnings: Mentions of an injury and that it's being taken care of (nothing too graphic), Depictions of Sexual Content (Minors DNI!), Rough/Intense Sexual Content, could be considered Dubcon by coercion (not really imo, but just to be on the safe side), Themes of Possession and Objectification

Fandom: Dexter (TV Show/Series)

Pairing: Brian Moser/Rudy Cooper x F!Reader

Request: by Anon

Summary: Brian takes care of your injury after you've taken a nasty fall, however you can't help but feel like something's off about the situation. Unaware of his dark thoughts and oblivious to the deeper manipulation at play, you clear your mind by focussing on his comforting presence, and things quickly get heated.

Word Count: 3.271

My Masterlist

A/N: For some reason, I really struggled with this.😬 I rewrote it like 3 or 4 different times entirely, I hope it's not too noticable.😅 I was also unsure when exactly to refer to Brian as "Rudy" so I tried to only do it whenever the writing directly represents the Readers thoughts about him.💕 I still had a ton of fun writing this and I hope I could do the idea that anon had justice and that you guys like it!🙏🏼 I would really appreciate reposts/comments with feedback.👀 Feel free to request stuff, I always enjoy getting some inspiration to keep the writing going.💙

Brian knelt beside you, his touch gentle as he pressed the damp cloth to your leg. The sharp sting of the cut made you wince, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the embarrassment of how it had happened.

You had tripped, just like you seemed to always do. This time, it had been over something small, a simple crack in the sidewalk, causing you to suddenly lie on the ground, blood welling up and staining your skin.

Heat rose in your cheeks in frustration at yourself and the fact that Brian now had to take care of you, but he was ever calm and didn't seem the least bit bothered.

Not saying much, he offered you a soft smile and then continued tending to your cut, his focus entirely on the injury itself.

He’d always been good at this type of stuff, fixing things while being composed and so in control — qualities you usually greatly admired in him.

But as you sat there in that moment, feeling the warmth of his touch, something didn’t seem right.

You knew you should be glad.

Here was your boyfriend, cleaning up your mess, like he so often did. You were fortunate, really, to have someone like him — patient and ready to swoop in when you inevitably fell again. So though you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off, you did your best to simply brush it aside.

After all, this was Rudy. Sweet, dependable Rudy, who always seemed to know exactly what to do and was there for you whenever you stumbled — literally and figuratively.

And even if his fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary on your skin right now, it likely didn't mean anything. The way in which he inspected your bloodstained leg with a look of concentration reassured you further.

“You really should be more careful,” Brian suddenly said, his voice low and soothing. His gentle words and focused demeanor helped ease your nerves.

You chastised yourself for ever thinking twice about his actions. Your boyfriend was simply trying to watch out for you, that's all. Why were you even doubting him in the first place? Maybe it was just the pain from the cut or the embarrassment of tripping again. Or maybe it was the whole thing with the Ice Truck Killer going on at the moment.

Yes, that had to be it. It had probably made you more paranoid than you'd initially thought.

But you had absolutely nothing to worry about, because the sweet man kneeling in front of you was nothing like that monster.

Forcing yourself to relax a little, you sighed.

"I know," you mumbled, as he expertly bandaged your leg, secretly marveling at how steady his hands were.

It was easy to forget how awkward you felt in moments like this, with him so effortlessly tending to you. You crooked a smile at him then, but Brian didn’t meet your eyes right away. He was too busy inspecting his work, a subtle smirk of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth as he secured the bandage.

To you, he seemed satisfied with his patch job, but inside, something else simmered. He felt an almost childlike joy about the way you sat there, so vulnerable, your leg limp in his hands.

He liked seeing you this way — hurt, but not too hurt. Just enough to need him, to be reliable on him.

It stirred something deep inside of him.

“There,” he said, leaning back a little to admire the bandage. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a split second, something unreadable passed between you, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. “Does that feel better?”

You looked down at your leg and inspected the professionally wrapped bandage. It was not too tight and not too loose. It was perfect. Just like him.

Tension oozing from your body, you nodded and looked up at your boyfriend again, smiling earnestly. “Yeah, much better. Thank you.”

His smile widened just a fraction, not quite reaching his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m here to patch you up,” he said with a lightness in his voice that made you feel a little better. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

The way he said it — his voice smooth and promising — made you smile, comforted by his presence.

Rudy really loved you, didn't he? He was always right there when you needed him.

He stood up and offered you his hand, and despite the slight apprehension earlier, you eagerly took it. His grip was firm and steady as he helped you to your feet, making sure that you avoided putting too much weight on your injured leg.

You pushed past any lingering odd emotions and focused on the fact that you were grateful for him. You had nothing to worry about — not with Rudy, not with the man who never made you feel stupid for being clumsy, who was always kind to you, the calm in your storm.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly, your voice carrying gratitude.

Brian's eyes flicked to yours, a faint twinkle in them. He felt content.

As he held your gaze for a moment longer, he could clearly see the relief and appreciation in you. It had him suppressing a grin, the way you were so easily fooled.

To him, you were perfect in your vulnerability, of course. A doll. Beautiful, delicate, and breakable. He liked you that way — liked the way your clumsiness brought you to him, having to be fixed, to be held together. Every scrape, every fall, was a small gift, an opportunity for him to touch you, to take care of you. To make you his again, piece by fragile piece. You were his creation, something he had molded with care and patience, and he was the only one who could keep you whole.

Or take you further apart, if he chose.

But for now, he was content to play the role you expected — your Rudy, the one who would always keep you safe.

He watched you as your eyes briefly flickered to his mouth and up again, and knew what you were going to do before you had even fully decided on it.

Slowly, you leaned in and brushed your lips against his, wanting to show him just how much you appreciated him.

Letting you take control for a moment, Brian allowed you to believe that you were doing something for him, even though he knew better. You were in his hands, for as long as you lived. The thought thrilled him in a way you could never know, in a way he would never let you see.

Keeping his lips perfectly still, Brian decided to act surprised by your sudden gesture, pausing for a few seconds, until he could just about feel you starting to pull away.

He kissed you back then, using every bit of his self-restraint to start softly, and his hand came up to cradle the back of your neck in a tender movement. Slowly, he deepened the kiss, daring to go further by tightening his grip on you slightly, almost imperceptibly.

After a few moments, you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your heart beating faster. When you looked up at him, his smile was still there, and he looked as warm as ever to you. As you lost yourself inside his eyes, Brian felt that familiar pulse of satisfaction.

You didn’t know it, but you were already his, caught in the delicate web he had woven around you. He could see how much you trusted him and the unguarded naivety you held had been obvious to him from the very first moment that you two had met.

You were simply too brittle for this world. Too easily shattered by its sharp edges, too flimsy to protect yourself from the falls you constantly took. That’s why you needed him. That’s why you would always need him.

As his thumb stroked the pulse point along your neck, feeling the quickened beat beneath your skin, he smiled at you. It was a soft and loving smile, one he had perfected for you.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Brian now addressed your last sentence, his voice calm and encouraging, with only a tiny hint of something darker that you didn't seem to notice. “No matter how clumsy you are, I’ll always be there to fix you when you break.”

The words, meant to comfort you, immediately had their desired effect. You happily beamed up at him while blushing furiously.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” you told him and then leaned in again, kissing him softly and embracing the moment.

Wallowing in the comfort and warmth he provided you with, you slid your hands up his chest, deepening the kiss. You didn’t want to think or talk anymore, just enjoy the feeling of being with him.

Brian watched you through half-lidded eyes, noticing your movements growing more desperate with every passing second. He could feel the tension in your body — the way you were almost pleading for his control — and it amused him, in a way.

You didn’t even realize how effortlessly you fell into this role, how naturally you let yourself be pulled into his world.

Moving his hands down to your waist, he squeezed them a little tighter than usual, but you didn’t seem to notice the extra strength in his grip, too absorbed in your need.

When you grasped the hem of his shirt and tugged it up to pull over his head, he lifted his arms and let you, suppressing a smirk.

It was obvious to him that you needed this physical closeness. Your skin pressing against his, fingers now fumbling with his belt in a frenzy — you were letting go of any lingering doubts and focusing solely on him.

Feeling a sense of smugness, he guided you with quick, assertive movements, prying your clothes away with a roughness that seemed to match your urgency. You gasped as he yanked off your shirt and then dug his fingers into your skin, his touch simultaneously gentle and commanding. Leaning further into him, you longed for release already and how he always made everything else seem insignificant when you were together like this.

Brian’s lips determinedly traveled to your throat, kissing you with an insistent fervor now. You shuddered under the ferocity, but didn’t stop him. Didn’t want to stop him. His teeth grazed your skin, causing your head to fall back in an open-mouthed moan, arching your body against him, desperate for more. The heat of his passion overwhelmed you, pushing any thoughts of discomfort aside. Hands roamed your body, his traces both prodding and tranquilizing.

He could feel the way you were giving in to him and letting him take over, allowing him to guide you, and that’s exactly how he liked it. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging in even more, and when you winced, he knew you felt it — though you never pulled away.

You wanted this. You needed him to be in charge.

When he led you into the bedroom, your discarded clothes left in the wake of his deliberate actions, his movements were filled with a raw intensity.

You shortly cringed at the sudden pain shooting through your injured leg when his weight pressed down on you as he pushed you onto the bed, but his lips crashing against yours with hunger made you almost immediately forget about any hurt. Kissing him back just as frantically, you wrapped your arms around his neck to cling onto him. He slipped his tongue between your lips almost forcefully, licking over every hidden crevice in your mouth with purpose. His hands roamed over your body and you moaned into Brian's mouth, his touch both a source of solace and pleasure for you.

Deep down on the inside a part of you noticed a subtle shift — Rudy was not being as gentle and careful as he normally was — but that part was swiftly drowned out by the sensations of everything else going on. All you could truly acknowledge in that moment was the incredible desire for him to make you forget everything but the feeling of him against you.

As if he somehow knew about what you’d felt, Brian interrupted the sloppy kiss and moved once more with intention and a vigor that sent your heart racing. His hands, bruising but controlled, pushed down the last bit of garment left between the two of you and you gasped as fresh air hit your intimate zone. You hadn't even realized how wet you'd gotten and now felt slightly ashamed at the way your body obviously liked the way he handled you and the way he'd been — and still was — pushing you and testing your limits, teetering the edges of breaking them.

He was still Rudy though, still the man who you trusted most in the world, so you didn't give it much more than a passing thought and decided to just roll with it.

Even though it would probably give you pause if you properly questioned it — the fact that he didn't usually act this way and only when you were injured or reliant on him in some way — for more than two seconds. But you didn’t question it for more than two seconds, couldn't, as your body deliciously responded and distracted you instead.

When Brian finally pushed into you, you cried out, your fingernails digging into his shoulders and leaving half-crescent-shaped moon indentions in his skin. He allowed you to adjust to his size for a short while, pushing his forehead against yours with his mouth hanging open in a silent groan as he relished in the feeling of being inside you.

After enough time passed for you to become used to him, you patted his shoulder and nodded ever so slightly, not capable of words.

Brian understood though, and immediately began to move, quickly setting a pace that was fast and demanding.

Pressing your eyes shut, you clung to him, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him impossibly closer — entirely missing the way his eyes were filled with something completely wild and dark. Focussing on the feeling of your boyfriend pushing and pulling inside of you, he soon began to hit that delicious spot deep in you, and you moaned loudly.

Brian leaned down then and you could feel his hot breath against your ear, his voice low and rough.

“You need me, don’t you?” he whispered, the words sending a shiver down your spine. You frantically nodded while gasping for air, unable to answer anything. “Whenever you need me, I am — and will — be there, every. single. time.”

He punctuated each word with a sharper and deeper thrust, angled directly at your sweet spot, leaving you choking for breath with tears in your eyes at one point. His words, though assertive, felt like a promise of security and care to you.

The room was heavy with heat, your breaths mingling, the sound of your bodies crashing together filling the space. Each push sent a jolt through you that made your head spin. You lost yourself in it all, in these repetitive motions, his touch, the feeling of his skin against yours.

One of his hands now moved to your clit and his movements became even more resolved and driven. He was controlling the moment, steering it exactly where he wanted, and your body responded accordingly. You could feel yourself being pulled in by the sensation, as he pushed you towards the edge.

“God, you’re so perfect like this,” Brian grunted, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “Come on, it's alright. You’re mine, aren’t you? Just let go.”

Tears rose in your eyes as you felt your body react to both his words and actions, the increasing intensity overtaking everything else and throwing you into a rush of pure ecstasy.

Your fingers dug into his back, your breath ragged, and all at once you fell into the waves, pulled underneath by their impact. You couldn't breathe for a moment, until finally, with a twist from Brian's fingers and a sharp cry from you, you reached the surface again.

The release hit you hard, sending rows of pleasure crashing through your body, and all you could do was lie there and take it, face screwed up in the pleasure of it.

Brian followed soon after, his movements rough and forceful as he found his own release, breath hot against your neck as he groaned, low and deep.

For a moment, the world stilled as the both of you tried to calm your breathing, the overwhelming physical connection between the two of you leaving you in a daze. Your heart pounded in your chest, your body trembling beneath the weight of his body on you.

After what felt like ages, but was likely only seconds, Brian lifted himself up and out of you, leaving you feeling strangely empty at the loss of him.

He collapsed beside you then and the room fell into a heavy silence in the aftermath of what you'd done.

As he lay beside you, Brian's mind was a whirlpool of satisfaction and dark pleasure. He reveled in the way you’d clung to him, completely oblivious to the extent of his control. The contrast between your dependence on him and his calculated dominance over you joyed him immensely.

Lifting his head, he turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush your hair back from your face, his caress tender again and a stark difference from the intensity of the moments you’d shared just before. His fingers grazed over your skin, his touch so feather-light and soft, it immediately erased any lingering concerns in you.

It was an act, of course. A way to further embed his influence. The compassion was a calculated gesture, a way to reinforce the illusion of care while keeping you bound to him.

“Are you alright?” he asked carefully, his voice carrying a tone of worry that felt comforting, and you nodded, reassured by his touch.

He always knew how to make you feel cherished, and you clung to that sense of security.

He noted the way your body relaxed against his, your breathing steady and calm. The pretense of concern came naturally to him, a mask he wore so well.

His hand now rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly as he leaned in closer.

“I love you,” he whispered, the final nail in the coffin, as always, his gaze lingering on you and studying your relaxed and smitten features. To him, you were more than just a partner; you were a project, a creation he had formed. The sweetness in his voice was a facade that masked his true intentions.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, and you felt another wave of affection and safety. Any fleeting worries were overshadowed by his sedative presence. You knew he was there for you, providing the care and support you needed.

“I love you too,” you responded, wrapping your arms around him and drawing him closer, feeling his warmth envelop you.

And as you nestled closer, Brian’s thoughts were filled with a dark fulfillment. The control he wielded was subtle, deeply woven into the fabric of his relationship with you.

And you, in your innocent trust, had made it all too easy.

With the quiet settling in, you allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his presence and fell asleep.

[vaguely-concerned]

for what it's worth I personally don't believe spite had anything to do with the pantry near-kiss experience at all. I think that was a 100% lucanis naturel disaster no supernatural additives present or indeed required. at most spite was watching that whole situation go down with mild puzzlement about approximately every part of it, I don't think he'd have much interest in it one way or the other. the explanation seems much more mundane and grounded and in some ways much sadder to me.

if your nervous system has never been in a place where any surge of emotion, even -- in fact sometimes especially! -- a good and exciting one makes you feel like your soul just touched a hot stove it can't get away from, then sincerely, from the bottom of my heart and without a trace of snark, thank goodness and I hope you never experience it. For the rest of you... fistbump of solidarity it's rough out here but *grits teeth* we stay silly etc. In the place lucanis is in during that part of the game, feeling like you're losing control (again even for ostensibly good happy reasons) can feel an awful lot like you're dying, or worse. on top of everything else going on for him -- again going only with non-supernatural elements and not even comprehensive: a year of non-stop horrific trauma added to pile of previous mountain of childhood and attachment trauma. chronic sleep deprivation. apparently dead grandma doubling as mother figure. cousin-brother aggressively fucking around and in real danger of finding out. fucked up the ONE thing he thought he knew how to do that's been the central pillar of his identity. the world might be ending even more than it already was because of it. keeps faceplanting with barely any dignity and having to get up again with alarming regularity GOD how could I ever not save treviso this man desperately needs a W (just one!!) like few people in the history of the world have before him. he's more caffeine than man because the alternative feels worse. it's bad in here. and ON TOP of all that he's in the process of falling just. appallingly soul-shrivingly in love, which can notably be playing on hard mode even when you're in a mostly functional place, that shit routinely rocks people to the core under the best of circumstances.

so I'm not surprised it's too overwhelming for him to handle when he tries to throw himself in head first -- in fact I'd have been more surprised if it weren't lol. he clearly wants it so much, which only makes it so much more painful that he can't actually bear to touch it when it's offered to him freely and eagerly. this is the tantalus-level awfulness of this kind of attachment trauma; food seems to be right there, you can see it, almost smell it sometimes, but no matter what you just can't seem to reach it. seemingly not for any flaw in the existence of the food, but because of something broken in you that can't or can't bear to actually eat. his deliberate flirting routine is kind of deeply dorky tbh lol (in the most endearing way possible let's be perfectly clear) and I don't think it's entirely natural to him -- that's a hastily cobbled together 'oh god I am getting the vibes here it is happening for some reason they like me for my personality quick what would illario do' approach if ever I saw it, supported by the fact that it never really makes a return after this --

BUT I do think his obvious near-unbearable delight with rook's existence and person that shines through in that scene is entirely real and unfeigned. he likes them so much. he wants so bad to be able to be close to them. he's so hungry for the reprieve and release and relief they represent to him, just for one moment, just one break from all the awfulness to have something uncomplicatedly good. and it's here, it's been offered, he's welcome!!! and he has to flinch away at the last minute anyway because he's an exposed nerve of a human being. there's a point at which every sensation including joy becomes indistinguishable from agony. he's pretty much exactly at that point. for the love of god have some mercy on him people. the feeling that salvation is right here but you're too broken a vessel to hold it is one I wouldn't wish on anyone. let him have a few moments to stare into the void before he's ready to get back up and try again surely we all deserve at least that much lol

[eiralunaire]

Damian Wayne/Reader

Warning: soft, fluff, pregnant Reader.

Damian Wayne, with his usual seriousness, had taken on a new air since he found out he was going to become a father. He was always attentive, even more so after that casual conversation in which Reader mentioned how fragile a pregnancy was in the early stages. That simple information had deeply disturbed him, and although he did not admit it, the fear of losing her, or the baby, ate away at him inside.

Now, no matter what she was doing, Damian was always by her side, almost like a protective shadow. If she got up from the couch to go to the kitchen, he was behind her, making sure she did not bend too much, that she did not lift heavy things, and even that she did not stand for too long.

“You don’t need to do that, Damian. I’m fine,” she said, smiling tenderly as she tried to wash a plate.

But he, unfazed, took the plate from her hands with a gentle but firm gesture, placing it back in the sink.

“You don’t need to make unnecessary efforts. I can do it.”

Reader sighed, understanding that although he might seem excessive, his gestures were full of love and concern. The simple fact that she bent down to pick something up from the floor put him on the verge of panic.

“You read it in that book, right? The fetus is still very fragile in the first trimester,” she had told him one night while reading one of the many books about pregnancy that he had accumulated in the house. It was a casual comment, not intended to alarm him, but for Damian, the words remained like a permanent echo in his mind.

That night, he couldn’t sleep well. The image of something happening to Reader or the baby haunted him every time he closed his eyes. And from then on, his attention became more acute. If they went out for a walk, his hand always rested on the small of her back, guiding her carefully. At home, he offered to sit her down whenever she seemed tired, even if it was just a little.

“Damian, honey, I’m really okay. I’m not made of glass,” she would tell him, smiling sweetly.

But he would just nod, his jaw clenched slightly as his green eyes looked at her with concern. He was a warrior, trained to fight crime, but this new challenge, the fragility of life inside his wife, made him feel out of control.

There were nights when, even though Reader slept peacefully, he would lie awake, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. His hand, always delicate, caressed her still barely bulging belly, as if he could protect the baby just by touching her.

One afternoon, Reader tried to bend down to pick up a book she had dropped, and before she could even reach out her hand, Damian was already kneeling in front of her, taking the book and quickly standing up.

“You don’t have to bend down. I’ll take care of it,” he said in a serious tone, but with a slight concern in his eyes.

She laughed softly, caressing his cheek. “I can’t live my life without bending over from time to time. You know that, right?”

“Yes, but if there is any risk, even a small one, I prefer to prevent it.”

The intensity of his gaze told Reader that it wasn’t simply a logical precaution; for him, every little movement represented a possible threat. But at the same time, that intensity was charged with love and devotion.

When it was time to sleep, Damian made sure that Reader was completely comfortable. He strategically placed pillows to support her back and belly, adjusted the sheets, and even monitored the temperature of the room to make sure it was perfect.

And although it might seem exaggerated, Reader knew that all of this was a sign of the immense love that Damian felt, a love that had transformed him from a vigilante obsessed with justice into a husband and future father full of tenderness and, above all, fear of losing what he valued most in the world.

“I’m going to be okay, Damian. We’re doing fine,” she assured him every night, intertwining her fingers with his as she gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

“I know,” he replied, though his gaze still showed the shadow of that constant worry.

Because for Damian Wayne, every day was a battle against the fear of losing the woman he loved and the future they had begun to build together. And as long as that fear accompanied him, he would never stop being by her side, protecting her with every fiber of his being.

[aajjks]

FUCK! (III)

synopsis. You hated your roommate but he had the biggest crush on you, fuck.

pairing: fboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: f2l, e2l, roommates au, fboy au (wow so many cliches), comedy au, mature themes, bad language, sex jokes.

warnings. mâtürè thèmês, jèälöüs koo, dïrty thöughts, ëxplïcït jökès, yn ïs ä säd gïrlïe, sünshïnê koo, #nô fïltèr kôôk, hörny kóó, hè ïs öbsëssèd wïth yöur tïts.

disclaimer. this is purely fictional and this doesn’t represent bts’ jungkook irl. mature themes 18+ content ahead. mdni. ps. this jungkook thinks w his dick 👍

series masterlist.

note. hi, share feedback plz, send asks because they keep me really motivated <333 ENJOY! And I’m so sorry that I’m so late with the update. I hope you haven’t forgotten about the story and if you have, please reread because I know you’re going to enjoy this. Thank you so much.

Honestly, you’re really strong.

You’ve been having a lot of bad dates and stupid, awkward encounters with your ex, Kyungsoo.

But thankfully, who is there for you? Your dear Jungkook. Your roommate who has been with you for quite some time now and it’s safe to say that you’ve gotten a lot of used to his presence, and his stupid jokes.

It’s a new day and you feel a little less depressed as compared to the last week, the sun is out and you feel really hot— literally because the weather is getting warmer and warmer.

Jungkook is sitting on the couch watching football, he’s kind of obsessed with it and he’s always screaming at the screen like a maniac, “WHAT THE FUCK?!!?! YN DID YOU SEE THIS?”

Your ears hurt.

He’s probably talking about some goal that you’re not interested in, How can you be when you’re actually really concerned about your love life these days, you and kyungsoo broke up up quite some time ago and you’ve been struggling with dating.

You’re definitely over him, so what is the problem? You don’t know when that’s frustrating you.

“shut up- you’re too loud.” You snap, closing your eyes and frustration because it’s way too early in the morning, you are definitely a night owl, and he’s quite literally sunshine.

Jungkook eyes are focused on you now, “Woah you need to get laid- I’m volunteering if you care.” His stupid remark has you glaring at him and he just laughs it off, he winks at you in return. And just after that he has started to shamelessly stare at your chest.

He’s not wrong- you do need to get laid.

And Yeah, you’re wearing a top so what? It’s really hot.

“you’re so hot.” Jungkook breathes out. You can see his eyes, and his pupils are quite bright. He’s got pretty eyes. He’s really pretty. Not that you would say that to his face because he will eat your brain that you complimented him and that you want to fuck him.

You don’t.

Well, you’re not sure.

“I know tell me something I don’t know, and stop staring at my tits- they don’t talk.” You scold him, but his gaze just doesn’t budge, you’re so used to him that it doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

You just roll your eyes at him. “Bet I can make them..” Your gaze hardens and you pick up a pillow from your couch and hit him with it.

He’s so shameless.

Jungkook pretends to be hurt, whining that you hit him hard. What a manchild, “quit it Jeon.” You warn him and he smirks. “And if I don’t? You’re going to punish me?! Please do.” He begs.

You scoff in disgust, but just then you get an idea- you’re going to mess with him. It’s your turn to smirk as you look at him in the eyes once again. “you’re walking on thin ice and you say that you want me to give you a chance, but… not sure if I should because you are a creep.” You shrug and it’s so satisfying the way his expressions change from smug to anxious.

You got him.

VICTORY.

“what are you talking about? I’m not a creep. And I…I please give me one chance all right I’ll stop my remarks.” he is struggling like an idiot. It’s is really nice to be in control.

“respectfully you just have nice breasts.” he shrugs, but you can tell he’s still panicking about what you just said. He ain’t wrong though you got nice breasts but it’s not nice to stare at them.

“Shut up- THIN ICE.”

You warn him, and he puts a finger on his mouth- his doe eyes are literally so panicky, “ugh I have work..” you whine- and Jungkook has started to focus on the game once again, “hey?! You have work too!!!? get up!”

“Yeah no. I won’t get scolded if I’m a little late because my boss kind of likes me.” He laughs.

What a fuckboy.

“you fuck your boss?!!” You know that’s not what he said or implied but you’re so curious, “uh no? Yn you’re mean!” he looks back at you acting so offended.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

You get up before he can even give you a reaction because you know he’s gonna freak out and your prediction is confirmed when you can hear him screaming like an idiot.

You smile as you go back to your room to get ready for work, it wouldn’t be a mistake to give him a chance because he obviously likes you and— he’s been asking you out forever, so why not?

But you’re not sure if you are gonna work out as a couple because he’s too much sometimes, But you’re still going to give him one chance to prove himself.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.”

You giggle as you shut the door behind you.

Sure.

He’s still having those wet dreams about you, it’s a struggle for him and he’s concerned because he’s never felt this way for anyone, and it’s just not the wet dreams.

His feelings for you are the main problem.

He annoys the fuck out of you and your both sitting in the couch, he’s pretending to watch football, but it’s hard for him to focus when you’re right next to him smelling like a goddess, and that top of yours?

It’s torture.

Jungkook gets distracted for a minute when his favorite team scores a goal and he screams, he knows that you get annoyed with him and he does that but it’s so fun to get these reactions out of you.

He loves it when you tell him to shut up. And yeah it’s not your fault that you’re so hot because it’s really warm, you just have to make everything look so good.

He looks at you for a minute, and then his gaze just automatically goes to your chest.

You are quite magnificent.

“You’re so hot.” he can’t help but compliment you when you just shrugged and say that you know.

Your confidence is so hot, Jungkook tries his best to be subtle with his lust and attraction towards you, but sometimes it’s just impossible for his tongue to not slip.

He says some things that get you angry.

You hit him with a couch pillow, and he Reacts dramatically, he was just kidding about that one joke. “Ugh.” He whines.

And just like that you guys banter for a while, that isn’t until he fucks it up a little bit more, and you warn him

No, he cannot lose his chance with you.

“I…I please give me one chance. All right, I’ll stop with my remarks.” He is so stupid. Why can’t he keep his hormones and tongue in check?

He doesn’t want you to think that it’s only because he’s physically attracted to you, it’s more than that, yeah, he dreams about fucking you but he also dreams about being with you forever.

That’s how much he likes you.

So please just give him one chance— he thinks to himself when you bring up work and he knows that yeah he has to go to work, but his boss is quite lenient and the pay is really good.

He is watching the game once again when you accuse him of fucking his boss, he does not do that— Jungkook feels a little bad, because that’s all you think of him?

“uh no I don’t- Yn you’re mean!” he looks at you and this time your breasts don’t distract him, he wants you to think of him as a man that is of commitment, but he has a lot to prove.

He has really fucked up his chances—? He feels his heart break as negative thoughts consume him, and he cannot even log into your eyes anymore.

You get up, probably get ready for work because you take everything in your life or seriously and you’re Punctual.

You’re so perfect for him

But maybe it looks like he’s not perfect for you. And that sucks, Should he just give up on you? He’s not sure.

“whatever— before I go and change? I think you can take me out on a date I’m giving you a chance.”

Did he just hear you right? Did you really just say you don’t give him a chance? And then he can take you out on a date

He tilts his head so fast, absolutely freaked out, his eyes are white, and his mouth is agape,

He’s not being delusional right now, is he?

“Y-Yn what did you just say?

He stutters out because he really cannot believe what you just said right now, have you hit your head or something because he’s asked you the same question for the past year but you have denied him, so why the sudden change?

He feels so happy right now- jungkook gets up from the couch and goes after you, but before he can catch you, so we can confirm what he just heard you giggle.

“YN I LOVE YOU THANK YOU SO MUCH. OH MY GOD YOU’RE NOT GONNA BE DISAPPOINTED. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. I WILL TEXT YOU ALL THE DETAILS.” Before you can actually shut the door he says it out loud.

and you shut the door behind you.

[loveemagicpeace]

🎸Mars Energy🎸

⚡️Mars is a powerful figure in mythology. Mars on me represents the principle factor, the energy we need to make us encourages to action. It gets us out of bed every morning and helps us achieve our goals throughout the day. It is also our representation of masculinity, as Venus is our representation of femininity. Both men and women need a well-functioning Mars to feel that we are powerful and that we have life in our hands. Mars needs challenges, and not just in battle or dispute, but also in physical activities, such as competitive games and sports or any field, at with which we can flex our muscles and compete with others to win. Like Venus, Mars is also associated with the sexual attraction and sexual relations, and both planets they reveal us approach to sexuality and courtship. In this, Mars especially delights in pursuit and conquest.

⚡️Unlike Venus, it is not relationship-oriented and can lose interest as soon as it conquers an object/person. Unless he runs into competitors then he starts fighting. The energy of Mars indicates how we behave and react. How we compete, how we win someone over and what our charm is. Mars shows how we keep our vibrancy and energy alive. The position of Mars in the chart shows our way of pursuing (the object & person we want). Mars is an indicator of what kind of men, and Venus, what kind of women we get involved with. Although many times relationships are influenced by both.

Mars is known for its lust for dominance, but it can be overbearing and tempting to impose one's will on others. Mars represents our primal passions, inclusive with anger. But Mars can also get you in trouble sometimes. It is important to release our anger. This is very important for our health, because we can get seriously ill if we suppress these energies. Suppressing anger is a matter of course associated with health problems such as stress and depression. The ability to exercise our will and achieve what we want is a talent in itself that we have to learn. After a period of learning from mistakes we start in our thirties and forties after we tend to use Mars more skillfully to our advantage.

🎡Aries Mars is particularly monotonous, spontaneous and quick to act according to his will. It can also catch fire spontaneously,and explosive moments are followed by calm ones, because anger usually does not last long. You have a fiery and strong approach to your desires. Usually when you want something you want to get it by any means. When it comes to competition, you are very competitive and forget about others. You put more emphasis on physical pleasure.

🦋Scorpio Mars has a strong will, but he has more control over the planning and execution of his actions, so he is more precise and efficient. Mars in Scorpio is usually expressed with the words and emotions, and less with fighting. Sexual expression is important for both signs, but Mars in Scorpio loves more emotionally. When it comes to love, he becomes very self-sacrificing. He will do anything for the person he loves. But when he is deceived, he can become your worst enemy. He is intense, passionate, combative and persistent, but his energy only shows when he really feels someone.

🧁Mars in mutable watery Pisces will be rather gentle and passive and will find it difficult to express itself decisively. He may hold back his anger so as not to upset others, and he may act less directly, he may even act like a victim to make others feel guilty and let us get our way. But many times you can make emotional sacrifices for other people or give them too much and then you are disappointed. Mars in Pisces is at its best when alone. You can isolate yourself a lot from other people.

🥨Mars in an earth sign, such as fixed Taurus, can be very calm and slow to respond, but with slow and patient steps he advances towards what he wants. Like a bull, it can be charged with enormous energy and charge at an attacker when angered or threatened. Mars in Taurus can also be very passionate and lustful, which makes him an emperor an exquisite and extremely patient lover.

✨Capricorn mars tends to be very competitive when it comes to business, success, money, reputation. You will want to achieve the biggest and be the best. When it comes to love, they can be quite cold sometimes. Many times they can put the business before the person. Their anger is usually not expressed, many times they keep it inside. Their nature is not so much focused on several things but on only one. It's the same in love - you like to invest in someone who seems stable and worth your time. They are not people who like to go on dates.

☁️Cancer Mars they have a very emotional response to things around them. You can hurt them quickly. They like to invest their time in their family, people close to them. They don't like average relationships. Many times their energy is emotional. Their anger is responsive in many ways but can also change quickly. They are a sign that can quickly forgive (even if it doesn't seem like it at first). They love stalking people. And when they want something, they will go anywhere to get it. They can do some pretty crazy stuff.

🥤Virgo Mars show practicality, decision-making and thinking. They know how to work hard for what they want if their desire is very strong. They put a lot of emphasis on hygiene, health, routine and lifestyle. They tend to dislike people who smoke or have strange habits. Many times they notice little things in people. They devote a lot of energy to staying in good health, but that's precisely why they can get sick. Because they can deal with it too much.

🥊Sagittarius Mars their energy is manifested through the will to live. They are the people who will always make you smile and make you feel that there is only one life and you can make the most of it. Spontaneous people and many times make an impulsive decision, which many times turns out to be good. They laugh a lot and are optimistic. They give a lot of energy to travel, spirituality, playfulness, learning, new things. Their approach is often optimistic, although they can have a lot of anger behind it. However, since this is a fiery sign, they can be impulsive, react violently, directly, rudely. They are tough opponents and when they set a goal they will achieve it. They can be very competitive when it comes to something they are passionate about. Or when it comes to a person who means a lot to them. They are not afraid to confront people and will always want quick actions and reactions. They almost never get sick, but that's because they are optimists.

🪂Leo Mars their energy is manifested through a passion for playfulness, childhood, fun. They put a lot of effort into having fun and enjoying the things they love. They have many hobbies. They can be possessive and jealous, but they won't show it right away. A lot depends on the energy they want to feel with the person. When they notice that the person they want has fans, they will become even more competitive. They will be most competitive in sports or love. Many times they will want to conquer you with their dominance. They are not afraid of challenges and will step into them without fear if they are mature enough. They are fighting and persistent in themselves. Actions count for them.

🎢Gemini Mars their energy is very mutable. They are all over the place most of their time. And they need a lot of change but they are most good with words than actions. They will talk much more than actually do. They can be very unstable and change their mind many times. They will often compete when it comes to verbal duels. Even at school, they know how to compete. Their health fluctuates because they can become quite anxious at times or think too much about things they cannot change. They can seduce you with mind games.

🫧Libra Mars their energy usually shows through the relationships but can be different kind of relationship it doesn't meant to be like romantic relationship. It can be friendships. If they are not in a relationship, they can give a lot of their energy to their friends. Their anger is usually passive aggressive. They often avoid conflicts because they like peace. Their passive aggressive behavior can lead to them getting sick (because they keep too much anger inside). It is good for them to express their feelings and anger as much as possible.

⛸️Aquarius Mars their energy is focused on humanitarian matters (they like to help others), dreams, goals, social networks. They like to do the things they like. They also like to be alone. They have rebellious kind of anger so they will fight for the rights or people they love or things that are connected to them. But they are not people who fight about I don't know some random stuff. They have the unique way how to seduce people and it's always different. They can also seduce you with their uniqueness or something about that is so different and this is why people are attracted to them somehow. They can work a lot on staying in shape and following themselves. Because they can get sick unexpectedly. Many times the diseases are very strange.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🍸🎸🧁

[visionsofmagic]

day 16: bruce wayne [power play]

࿓ synopsis • the game you play takes a different route in which you try to dominate him, but, he doesn’t allow you.

―❦ nsfw, dominance/submission, roughness, licking, marking, wrist holding, short, f!reader, brat!reader, riding, begging, pet names, ‘is all I guess? • 0.7k • he's my favorite dc character and the idea popped into my mind because he's looking so dom! enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“who’s in control now, love?” he asks as he pounds into you, hands holding yours above your head as your back arches onto his bare chest, filthy voices leaving you one by one since it’s too much to keep silent – he’s trying to gain it from you after all, wanting to make you scream his name louder with each of his deep, hungry thrusts that hit the exact spot that drives you crazy in every time.

the question is a reference to what you said before being in this situation; leaning down on the mattress, wrists inside his palms, breasts bouncing shamelessly and even hitting his chest from time to time, legs wide open, pussy soaking wet enough to make the white color of the sheets goes grey because of how much it is, legs shaking yet still having the strength to stay on his back, hugging him from there only to bring his body closer to yours as if it’s possible – as if he’s not already deep buried inside you, fucking you roughly because he has something to prove to you – to dig it into your pathetic mind as he said before.

he’s angry – a little bit, with the lust that flows inside his veins until it reaches the tip of his thick cock – using it to shove it into you mercilessly.

the feelings are there due to you – being a little brat and trying to take control while riding him a while ago, teasing about how his dick dripping, pale face is full of redness, breathtaking with a rapid way, and even sweating – only you can make the vigilante sweat like this – the reasons why he is rough now.

with the power you had at that moment, your body moved without your mind acknowledging it, making you look down at him, taking control, riding him so slowly to make him beg for you to move, to fuck him, yet, bruce who knows you better than anyone else, including you, understood what you were trying to do, especially when your hand tried to hold his neck – with sudden movement, he gripped your wrists, turning your body over, hovering above you as he mocked you – showing the dominance he has on you – not yours – his.

power play ended when he began to fuck you ruthlessly.

his question remains unanswered – he doesn’t seek one either, he just enjoys watching how messy you’re getting under him, ready to beg more when his hips slow down – and nearly stops as he fucks you leisurely, taking his time, and even having a ghost smirk on his face. 

and when you look at him, your vision is blurry yet witnessing his lustful expression, representing of the dominant side he has on you, you know he waits for you to beg – to cry. weren’t it for your aching pussy that is in need to be fucked by bruce, you would stay still, yet, you have no brain at all – only a greedy wet pussy and passion mixed with love.

“bruce –“ his name comes out of your parted lips on its own – pure instinct. “ohh – bruce!”

“yes, my pretty slut, what’s wrong?”

“move – aghh – please, move already! nee – ohh – need you to move!”

leaving your wrists free, his hands positioned on your hips, holding it strongly, ready to bounce into you with all his strength, his weight can be felt on you, sending a different sense of both pain and pleasure at the same time.

“look who’s begging now –“ he teases, kneeling down until his lips touch your neck, biting it – licking it so that he can leave marks on you- bigger and more efficient ones than yours that you left on his entire body before he took control. he enjoyed being under you, yet, the delight of having you under him is far greater than it. “tell me – that I am the one who is in control over you, not you over me,” he lowers down, licking and kissing your exposed body gladly, reaching until its tongue travels on your hardened breasts. 

pushing you against his hot tongue, you answer, feeling his cock leaving your pussy slowly, “you! bruce – ohh – you!” “good girl.” he says lastly, then, pushing his hip further, the cock fills your warm walls entirely with a powerful thrust and he doesn’t stop – he thrusts into you with a great pace and power that you no longer remember the power play – letting him do whatever he wants to do with you until he’s satisfied.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @chloee0x0 *lots of kisses!*

[mingi-s-dimples]

Raw Need - Yunho

KINKTOBER DAY 29, REQ. BY 🤧

~"IM BACK AGAIN W ANOTHER REQUEST okay so its an omegaverse , reader is an omega and their dear partner is an alpha ( lets say yunho) and like this is readers first rut she couldnt control it at all because it was her first ever rut and she didn’t want to go tell yunho but because of the sweet smell of her pheromones yunho instantly knew what happened and it was clear that reader was feeling hotter and redder than usual when yunho asked her about at first she said no but after a little time she told him which make yunho go feral he asked “Would u mind if i helped” (They never did the bombaya before but they took showers and he was BIG.) but yunho didnt wait for an answer and he put his head in her neck slowly kissing her neck inhaling her sweet smell making him go crazy and get hard (a little skip time like they got undressed blah blah blah ) and when it was time for him to enter her like she told him to go slowly and that shes a little bit scared because she never took him before aka like a over all like gentle first time but after he stretched her out he was rough going deeper and deeper every time and maybe a little after care too 👉🏼👈🏼"

pairing: alpha!yunho × omega f!reader

genre: 18+, omegaverse, slight filth

summary: your first rut washed rough over you... and even if you didn't wanna do anything about it... your man made sure he'd fuck you senseless thru your rut.

wc: 5.1k

warnings: omegaverse, harsh dom!yunho, virgin/first rut for reader, marking, love at first then rough sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, pussy eating, making out, praise, some pet names, unprotected, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: I loved writing this one tbh... bestie I hope you like it and it's to your liking 😁 ily 🤍

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The quiet hum of the afternoon wrapped around the room like a cocoon, its tranquility disrupted only by the faint shuffle of papers and the occasional sound of distant footsteps. The room was nothing short of lavish, its opulence apparent in every detail. Velvet curtains hung heavy over the tall windows, filtering the sunlight into soft, golden streams that spilled across the polished hardwood floor. A grand bed sat in the center of the room, its plush, cream-colored duvet perfectly arranged, though you hadn’t dared to sit on it. Across from the bed, a gilded mirror stretched nearly to the ceiling, its ornate frame gleaming faintly in the dim light. Yunho had chosen its placement himself, a detail that always made your cheeks flush when you caught his lingering gaze in its reflection. Now, with the heat of your rut clouding your thoughts, the mirror felt more intrusive than ever.

The air was thick, though, laced with something so delicate and sweet that it bordered on intoxicating. You didn’t notice at first. Or maybe you did, but the swirling haze of heat pooling in your stomach had grown too overwhelming to let you focus on much else.

Your rut was coming on fast—too fast.

Leaning against the edge of the heavy wooden desk for balance, you drew in a shaky breath, your hands gripping the smooth surface like it was the only anchor in the storm raging inside of you. A feverish heat coursed through your veins, making your skin flush and your breaths uneven. You swallowed hard, your gaze darting toward the door as anxiety churned in your chest.

Yunho was just outside.

You hadn’t planned on telling him. How could you? The thought alone made your cheeks burn hotter than they already were. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—he was always so gentle with you, so caring, even when his alpha instincts occasionally surfaced in subtle ways. But this was different. This was your first rut. An experience so raw, so visceral, that it made you feel exposed in a way you couldn’t explain.

But Yunho would never let it go unnoticed.

The soft knock on the door startled you, your pulse jumping as you instinctively turned your head toward the sound.

“Y/N?” Yunho’s voice, low and warm, slipped through the crack in the door. It wasn’t just a question—it was a demand cloaked in care, his presence pressing against the threshold like a force you couldn’t escape.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to respond. Surely he wouldn’t notice anything if you just—

The door creaked open before you could finish that thought, and Yunho stepped inside. His eyes found you instantly, and the moment they did, the room shifted.

The air grew heavier, electric, as his gaze darkened. His nostrils flared subtly, and you watched his jaw tense as he inhaled deeply. That sweet, unmistakable scent of your pheromones had reached him, and the effect was instant. His shoulders stiffened, the usual calm in his expression shattering as raw, unfiltered instinct bled through.

“Are you okay?” His voice was softer than you expected, but the tension behind it was unmistakable. He took a step closer, then another, his broad frame making the room feel impossibly small.

You nodded quickly, too quickly. “I’m fine,” you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Yunho’s eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze sweeping over you. You could feel him dissecting every detail—the way your hands trembled against the desk, the sheen of sweat on your flushed skin, the way your breaths came faster than normal. He knew.

“It’s your first rut, isn’t it?” His voice was lower now, rougher, the barely contained growl in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You hesitated, caught between denial and the truth that your body had already given away. Finally, you nodded, your gaze dropping to avoid the intensity of his stare.

But that was all it took.

Something inside Yunho snapped. A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, and the tension that had been building between you broke like a dam. In the next instant, he was in front of you, moving faster than you could process. His hand cupped your face, firm and unyielding as he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You should’ve told me.” His voice was rough, feral, his breath hot against your skin. “You think I wouldn’t notice? You think I’d let you go through this alone?”

His other hand found your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip as though anchoring you to him. His body was impossibly close now, radiating a heat that only seemed to amplify the storm inside you.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he rasped, his tone more growl than words.

Before you could answer—or even breathe—he leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of your neck. The kiss wasn’t soft; it was open-mouthed, searing, and possessive in a way that left you breathless. He wasn’t holding back anymore. The restraint he’d always shown around you was gone, replaced by something wild and uncontrollable.

His teeth grazed your skin, not enough to hurt but enough to make you tremble beneath him. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your neck, his voice low and rough, like a vow. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you.”

Yunho pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees weak. “Let me take care of you,” he growled, his fingers tightening their hold on your waist. “Don’t you dare hide this from me again.”

Yunho’s eyes remained locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with a feral hunger that made your breath hitch. The intensity of his gaze was almost too much, but it was impossible to look away. He leaned in, his hand still firm on your waist, pulling you closer until the heat of his body overwhelmed your senses.

His lips captured yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was desperate, messy, and entirely consuming, his mouth moving against yours like he couldn’t get enough. When his teeth caught your bottom lip, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, a low growl rumbled deep in his chest. His nails dug into your waist, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of the sheer strength he was holding back.

“Bed,” he rasped against your lips, his voice rough and commanding. Before you could even process the word, his hands were on you, guiding you backward. The desk’s edge scraped against your hip for a fleeting moment before his grip tightened, lifting you just enough to move you effortlessly.

You barely registered your back hitting the plush mattress until you felt the weight of his body hovering over you. Yunho’s movements weren’t rough, but they were purposeful, deliberate, as though his instincts had taken full control. His hands roamed your sides, firm and possessive as they found your waist again.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with intensity. His thumb brushed against your cheek, a moment of tenderness that contrasted starkly with the raw hunger in his expression.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the strain in it was evident. His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, the tension in his body clear as he awaited your answer.

You swallowed hard, your lips parting slightly as you nodded, shy but certain.

That was all the permission Yunho needed.

His hands moved with urgency, tugging at your shirt as though it offended him. The fabric yielded easily under his grip, and though his movements bordered on aggressive, there was a reverence in the way his fingers ghosted over your skin as he worked. He paused only briefly, his gaze raking over you before his lips were back on your neck, trailing a path of open-mouthed kisses that left you breathless.

The heat pooling in your belly intensified as his hands slipped lower, brushing the waistband of your shorts. His touch was firm, unyielding, and it sent sparks through every nerve in your body.

A sudden thought flared in your mind, unbidden but vivid. You remembered the time you and Yunho had taken a shower together, an innocent moment that had left you more flustered than you cared to admit. You hadn’t been able to stop your gaze from wandering, and what you’d seen had stayed with you ever since. He was… packing, to put it mildly.

The memory alone was enough to make you press your thighs together, your body betraying the heat swirling inside you. Yunho noticed instantly. His eyes darkened further, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as though he could read your thoughts.

“You’re thinking about something,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Something that’s turning you on even more, isn’t it?”

You tried to shake your head, but Yunho wasn’t having it. His hand slid down to your thigh, gently coaxing it apart as his nails grazed your skin. The possessiveness in his touch was unmistakable, and it only made the ache in your core worse.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough with want. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Yunho’s lips didn’t relent, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. His hands gripped your waist firmly, fingers digging into your skin as though anchoring himself. You could feel the possessiveness radiating from him, the way his touch claimed every inch of you.

“Mine,” he growled softly against your neck, the word vibrating against your skin before his teeth sank gently into the sensitive spot just below your jaw. The sensation sent a wave of dizziness washing over you, the heat pooling low in your belly becoming nearly unbearable.

Your hands moved instinctively, tangling in his dark hair as his lips continued their path downward. He seemed to revel in the way you clung to him, his low growl vibrating against your skin as his mouth traveled to your collarbone. He didn’t hesitate, leaving marks in his wake—small, dark bruises that bloomed on your skin like a map of his devotion.

“Yunho,” you whispered, your voice shaky and breathless as your body arched into his touch.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His lips pressed to the curve of your shoulder before trailing lower. “Let me take care of you.”

Every kiss, every bite, every graze of his teeth left you reeling. His lips found the swell of your chest, your nipples hard, pressing kisses that were as reverent as they were feral. When his mouth closed over them, you couldn’t help the soft sound that escaped you, your head falling back against the bed as your body melted beneath him.

“You’re so perfect,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. His hands moved to your sides, holding you steady as his lips continued their descent. He kissed along the curve of your ribs, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin just enough to leave a tingle in their wake.

By the time his mouth reached your belly, you were dizzy, your mind fogged with the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. His tongue traced the sensitive dip of your navel before his teeth grazed just above it, and your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging softly in response.

Yunho groaned at your touch, the sound sending another jolt of heat through you. His lips continued their path lower, pressing kisses to the soft skin of your hips before finding the tender flesh of your inner thigh.

He paused for a moment, his breath ghosting over your skin as he looked up at you. The sight of him—his dark, feral eyes gazing at you from between your thighs, his lips slightly swollen and marked with your taste—made your breath hitch.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost a growl. His hands slid to your thighs, gripping them firmly before pulling you closer with a single, powerful motion.

Before you could process the movement, his mouth was working its way on your folds, his lips pressing against you with a hunger that left no room for hesitation. The sudden intensity of it made you gasp, your head falling back as the heat in your belly surged, consuming you completely.

Yunho didn’t hold back. His mouth moved with precision and fervor, his tongue working against your sensitive flesh in ways that left you gasping. Each stroke was deliberate, calculated, his lips and tongue dragging over every nerve ending until your entire body trembled beneath him. His hands gripped your thighs, firm enough to keep you open for him, his nails pressing into your skin as though daring you to move.

The sounds leaving you were unrestrained, soft moans mixed with whimpers that only seemed to spur him on. He groaned against you, the vibration sending a shockwave through your body that made your legs shake.

“Yunho—” you managed to gasp, your fingers tangling deeper into his hair, pulling just enough to draw another low growl from him. The way his tongue teased and circled your clit, the sheer intensity of his focus, had you spiraling.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and possessive. “Let me hear you.”

The coil in your belly tightened with every flick of his tongue, every gentle scrape of his teeth. Your legs trembled uncontrollably, the heat spreading through your entire body as your breaths grew shallow. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything except the relentless pleasure he was giving you.

When you finally reached your high, it hit you like a wave, crashing over you in a blinding surge of heat and sensation. Your body arched, your hands clutching at Yunho as soft cries spilled from your lips. He didn’t stop, his tongue coaxing you through every second of your orgasm until you were trembling from the overstimulation, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“Good girl,” Yunho rasped, his voice laced with satisfaction as he finally pulled back, his lips glistening. He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

He stood, towering over you as his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. His muscles flexed as he pulled it over his head, tossing it aside without care. The golden light from the room caught the lines of his chest and shoulders, every movement accentuating the raw strength in his form.

You couldn’t help but stare as he reached for the waistband of his pants, his fingers deftly undoing the button before sliding them down. He was stunning, every inch of him commanding your attention.

Yunho’s eyes darkened as he caught you looking, his smirk widening. “See something you like?” he teased, though the heat in his gaze left no room for denial.

He climbed onto the bed with an ease that belied his size, his hands finding your waist again as he pulled you up into his lap. The shift was sudden, and you let out a soft gasp as he positioned you effortlessly. His knees rested on the mattress, and he held you securely, your legs draped on either side of his hips.

You realized the mirror was directly in front of you now, its reflective surface catching every detail of the moment. Yunho’s grip shifted, one hand sliding beneath your knees as the other found your chin, tilting your face toward the mirror.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice a mix of awe and command. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

Your cheeks flushed as you caught your reflection. The sight of yourself, completely exposed in his lap, was almost too much. You tried to avert your gaze, but Yunho’s fingers on your chin held firm, gently pulling you back.

“Don’t look away,” he said, his tone soft but unyielding. “I want you to see how stunning you are. I want you to see what I see.”

His hands shifted again, his fingers gripping beneath your knees to spread you open further. The action made you gasp, the vulnerability of the position sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.

“You’re mine,” Yunho said, his voice low and reverent as he held you in place. “Every inch of you is mine.”

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Yunho's hands were firm but gentle as he guided you into position, pulling you into his lap. Your back pressed against his chest, and the warmth of his body surrounded you, his presence overwhelming in the best way. His hands moved to your legs, his fingertips sending little shivers through your skin as he positioned you just right. You could feel the heat of him beneath you, his cock brushing over your lower back with each movement. The proximity made your pulse quicken, the sensation of him so close that it nearly drove you wild.

You paused for a moment, your breath shallow, a mix of excitement and nerves flooding you. The overwhelming heat of the situation, the closeness, made your mind dizzy. You reached back, placing your hand on his chest to steady yourself, and your voice trembled as you spoke.

“Yunho,” you whispered, the sound almost a plea.

“Yes, darling?” he stopped everything, looking in the mirror at you.

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s... my first time… c-can you... can you be gentle with me, at first?”

Yunho froze for a moment, his hands stilling under your knees. He could feel the nervousness in your touch, your soft voice carrying the weight of your vulnerability. He leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm and reassuring.

“Of course, baby,” Yunho murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “I’ll take care of you, always.”

You felt his hands shift, adjusting his position beneath you, and he moved with such careful attention. His body was so close that you could feel the heat of him against your back, the pressure building with every slight movement, but he held back, moving only as slowly as you needed. His grip on your legs tightened just enough to give you comfort and security, and you melted into his touch.

With a deep breath, Yunho slowly guided you down, inch by inch. You felt the initial stretch, the unfamiliar sensation, but his slow movements allowed you to adjust, your body beginning to relax into him. The feeling of his chest against your back, of his heat surrounding you, made your body respond, even if it was just from the closeness.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice a soothing hum in your ear. “You’re doing so well. Just breathe, take your time.”

You shifted slightly, the soft friction sending tiny jolts of pleasure through you, and Yunho’s body tightened beneath you, a low growl escaping from his throat. He was fighting the urge to move faster, to take you with more force, but he restrained himself, focusing on you.

Slowly, the tension in your body began to ease, the heat in your core building as you adjusted to the feeling of him. You could feel him brushing against your back, his warmth spreading, and every soft touch, every movement, only made you crave more of him.

“You okay?” Yunho asked, his voice filled with concern, though there was a darker edge of hunger just beneath the surface. “Need me to go slower?”

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you breathed out, “ I’m okay.”

The slow, steady rhythm continued as Yunho guided you, his hands holding your legs outwards as he effortlessly pulled you up and down on his cock, slowly. You could feel the power in him, the control, but also the tenderness with which he held you, the care in every movement. He was taking his time with you, making sure you were completely comfortable, completely lost in the moment with him.

After a few moments, you felt your body adjusting, the heat growing, and the soft ache turning into something deeper, more intense. You shifted again, this time pressing your back more firmly against his chest, seeking a deeper connection. Yunho immediately noticed the change, his breathing picking up as he responded with a slight shift of his own.

“I think you’re ready for more,” he muttered softly, his voice a mixture of admiration and hunger. “Tell me if I’m right, baby. You want more?”

You nodded shyly, your breath quickening as you felt the weight of his gaze on you. “Yes… please.”

Yunho smiled softly, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck, and without waiting another moment, he began to move with you, slowly, steadily, a little deeper, a little more insistent. The heat inside you began to build with each motion, your body finally responding fully to his touch.

As the moment stretched on, Yunho could feel his control slipping. The slow, steady pace had done its job—it had allowed you to adjust, to relax—but the desire building inside him was too much to bear. He couldn’t stay patient forever, not when the way you moved against him, so delicate and needy, was driving him wild.

With a low, barely contained growl, Yunho suddenly shifted. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you forward with a force that took you by surprise. You gasped as your chest pressed into the soft mattress, your body tilted just enough to feel the change. His hand moved swiftly to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair as he held you in place, his chest pressed against your back.

“May I go rougher?” Yunho’s voice was hoarse, his breath ragged against the back of your neck. “I can’t take it anymore. I need more.”

The words, so full of need, sent a rush of heat through your body. You could feel the raw desire in his voice, and without hesitation, you nodded faintly, unable to speak as your breath caught in your throat.

The moment you gave him that silent permission, Yunho’s pace shifted, becoming more intense. His hands gripped you more firmly as he guided you forward, his movements faster, deeper. Every shift of his body sent sparks through your skin, the heat in your belly intensifying with every thrust. The pressure in your chest built as your body responded to him, the sensual rhythm becoming more urgent, more powerful.

His lips brushed against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice strained, but still soft with reverence. “So perfect for me.”

Each movement sent you spiraling, your body trembling with the force of the connection, with the overwhelming intensity of the moment. Yunho’s hold on you was firm, possessive, yet still filled with the tenderness he couldn’t hide. He was in control, but it was clear that every inch of him was completely consumed by you.

Yunho’s grip in your hair tightened slightly, pulling just enough to send a shiver down your spine. The sensation was electrifying, the sharp contrast between his strength and the reverence in his touch overwhelming. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing over your skin as he whispered, his voice a low growl.

“Look at you, completely perfect,” he murmured, the words laced with possessiveness. His hand on your waist slid lower, his grip firm as he guided your body to move with his. Every shift, every deliberate motion, sent ripples of warmth through your skin, your senses heightened by the intensity of his presence.

“You feel that?” he asked, his voice rough but filled with awe. “That’s all you, baby. You’re driving me insane.”

Your legs trembled as Yunho moved with more purpose, the power behind his actions leaving you breathless. His body fit against yours so completely, every part of him enveloping you as if he was meant to. His hand slipped from your waist to rest on your belly, pulling you even closer against him as he leaned down to kiss the corner of your jaw, his lips moving slowly, savoring every inch of you.

“I want you to let go for me,” he coaxed, his voice softening slightly as his lips moved back to your ear. “Don’t hold back. I want all of you, every sound, every feeling.”

The tension building in your body was unbearable, the heat pooling low in your belly as Yunho continued, his movements growing rougher, more commanding. The way he whispered praise into your ear only added fuel to the fire, each word wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

“You’re incredible,” Yunho groaned, his tone heavy with admiration and something darker, more primal. “I could stay like this forever.”

When the orgasm overtook you again, your body arched instinctively, every nerve alight with sensation. Your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you, the overwhelming release leaving you breathless as soft cries escaped your lips. Yunho didn’t stop, his movements steady and sure as he helped you ride the high. His hold on you tightened, his growls low and guttural as he watched you come undone.

Even as the waves of sensation subsided, Yunho’s pace didn’t falter. His grip on your waist grew stronger, his other hand tangling in your hair once more as he pulled you back slightly to meet him.

“Stay with me,” he growled, his voice rough, his breaths shallow. “I’m not done with you yet.”

His movements became more intense, his need for you taking over as his strength pressed you firmly into place. The sound of his voice, the feeling of his body surrounding you, was too much. You could feel his restraint slipping, the raw hunger in his actions showing through as he drove himself toward his own high, spilling his load inches deep inside you, filling you up good.

When he finally stilled, his breath heavy and ragged against your ear, he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your skin.

“You’re amazing,” Yunho whispered, his voice softening, though the roughness from before lingered in the edges. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

With a tender strength, Yunho sat back, lifting you effortlessly into his embrace. Your body felt light against his, completely enveloped in his warmth as he guided you to lean against his chest. His hands moved gently now, tracing slow circles on your waist as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

Tilting your chin upward with his fingers, Yunho made you look into the mirror once more. Your reflection was a testament to the moment—your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen, your hair slightly mussed… body all sweaty and your cunt dripping with both of his and your juices on his thighs. His gaze, dark and full of pride, met yours in the glass as he kissed your temple softly.

“Look at yourself,” he murmured, his voice deep but tender. “Do you see what I see? How beautiful are you?”

Your face heated further, and you tried to look away, but his hand was quick to guide your chin back, holding you steady.

“Don’t shy away,” Yunho said, his voice firm but full of affection. “You’re breathtaking. Perfect. Mine.”

And as he held you there, safe in his embrace, the intensity of the moment melted into a warm stillness. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your back, his lips pressing one final kiss to the crown of your head as he whispered once more, “Always.”

As the intensity ebbed and warmth began to settle over you both, Yunho’s grip on your waist softened slightly, though his presence remained firm and grounding. His breath was still uneven as it fanned against your ear, and his hand shifted to cradle your face gently, his thumb brushing across your flushed cheek.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, his voice low, rough around the edges but filled with tenderness. His eyes searched yours as his fingers trailed softly down your jawline, grounding you even as the sensations still lingered. “You were so good for me… I need to know you’re feeling alright.”

You nodded faintly, still catching your breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m okay… I promise.”

Yunho’s lips twitched into a faint smile, the kind that was just for you, warm and full of pride. “Good,” he said softly, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “Because you were perfect. Better than perfect.”

With gentle yet deliberate strength, Yunho guided your body to turn and face him fully, his hands steady on your waist as he pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you so close it was as if he wanted to shield you from the world. The feeling of his warmth, his steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, made you feel completely secure.

“That was your first rut,” he murmured into your hair, his voice reverent but laced with something darker, the remnants of his earlier feral energy still flickering beneath the surface. “And you handled it like you were made for me.”

His fingers trailed down your spine, his grip firm but soothing, as though he couldn’t stop touching you, couldn’t let go even for a moment. “You have no idea how proud I am of you,” Yunho whispered, his lips brushing against your temple before finding your ear. “You’re mine. Every single part of you, and I’ll never let you forget it.”

The possessiveness in his tone sent another shiver through you, but the tenderness in his embrace made you relax completely. When Yunho pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze was unwavering, dark with adoration and a lingering hunger, though his smile softened the edges.

“You’re incredible,” he said, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before tucking you back into his arms. “Always.”

And in his embrace, the weight of the moment dissolved into something sweeter, safer. Even as your body hummed with the remnants of everything you’d just shared, it was his presence, his unyielding care, that made you feel entirely, utterly his.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive

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no nut november - bangchan (4th to lose)

-> pairing : chan x fem!reader

-> words count : 3,1k

-> genre : smut, friends/sex friends to lovers

-> warnings : switch!chan, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, hair pulling, handbjod, manhandling, creampie, use of 'slut', a tiny little bit of angst because chan is overthinking + the way i'm depicting bangchan does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

November 18th, 10 pm, and all Chan was thinking about was you. Nonetheless, he should focus on what was going on behind his eyes, on his screen. But his mind was clearly not at it since this morning. He tried to work on his new song, on the lyrics, on the beat, on everything he could but nothing seemed to help. 

Chan leaned into his desk chair, sighing and closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his thoughts from running. Without needing to concentrate this time, you immediately appeared to him. At first, it was just your beautiful smile when you were talking about the things you loved, or the way you had to sit on chairs, crossing your legs and making you look so tiny Chan wanted to protect you from the world. But then, it was like someone corrupted him. He could easily picture your blissed out face when you came around his fingers or cock, even more easily picturing your hands stroking his dick. 

Chan sighed again, but that didn’t help him with his little problem. What would’ve helped him was if you were there with him. He saw his phone from the corner of his eyes, peacefully resting on his desk, and he hesitated for several minutes. What should he do ? Call you and lose ? Or just resist ? 

Your relationship was pretty unusual, to say the least. Since the first time you saw each other, you clicked immediately. You were caring and calm, but once you started talking about something you loved, you were the most passionate person he knew. He loved it because you were always able to relax him just with your presence and voice, but he also loved the fact that you could be as energetic as him at other times. 

But besides that, you were also someone who knew what she wanted. And you made it clear to him really quickly that he was what you wanted. And who was Chan to refuse such a proposal ? Obviously, he didn’t. But the more time passed, the more his feelings grew. And worst of all, he couldn’t stop it. Because you also made it clear that you didn’t want something serious, just being friends with benefits was fine, right ? 

It was until Chan messed it all up with his feelings. But before his brain could even register it, he had grabbed his phone and called you already. Must do that quickly so he would not have the time to regret what he had done. 

“- Long time no see Channie !”

The said Channie closed his eyes, feeling his heart skipping a beat hearing your voice. He stayed away from you since the start of this stupid bet, he didn’t realize until now how much he missed you, all of you. 

“- Yeah… Sorry, I know I’ve been distant but…

- Don’t worry ! Binnie told me about it, I have no problem with that. And it’s kinda flattering.

- Flattering ?

- Yeah… It’s like you admitting you can’t control yourself when you see me, isn’t that right ?”

He gulped at your words. You were sadly not that far from truth, except the fact that it wasn’t only your body, but your all self that was tempting him, from the way you were clenching around him when you were about to come to your beautiful smile. Everything about you was a temptation to him, but he couldn’t admit it to you, nor was he able to stop all of that before hurting both of you.

“- You saw right through me again…

- I know you very well, I must admit. 

- So you surely know why I call you ?

- Of course. I’m on my way.”

He could hear your smirk as you talked, and before he even had the chance to answer, you hung up. But you weren’t the type to lie, Chan knew you were gonna knock on his door in a matter of minutes, and he didn’t want to figure out why he felt a heavy weight on his heart.

________________

“- Missed this…”

Your lips trailed along his neck, licking and sucking on it, and Chan tilted his head to the side to grant you more access to his skin. His hands were gripping your thighs firmly, preventing you from moving away from him. Once you put one foot in his room, you didn’t let him think twice before pushing him back into his chair, straddling him and kissing him like you hadn’t tasted him in years. 

“- Missed you Chan…”

His heart melted hearing your sweet voice saying you missed him. And God knows how much he missed you. So much. But he had to be realistic : you didn’t really miss him, you just missed his lips on yours, his hands on you, his dick in you. The facts were there, though. But Chan just decided to push it back and simply enjoy your lips on his and feeling your skin under his fingertips. 

“- I missed you too…”

Your little smile made you look so hot, so hot he wanted to pin you down on his bed and ruin you. But he was weak, you made him weak. So weak you just needed to move slightly against him to get him to moan. And your smile widened at the sound, loving to actually hear the effect you had on him. You closed your eyes, starting to grind on him at the same time. Chan’s hands flew to your hips, pushing you down against his hard cock. You whined quietly, gripping on his shoulders for support. 

“- What do you want me to do baby ? Just tell me.”

Your eyes were only focused on him, nothing else, and Chan felt overwhelmed. He wanted you to kiss him, to lick his body, to let him fuck you. He wanted you to do what you wanted, all of it, just because what he really wanted was to please you. 

“- Whatever you want. I just need you.

- That’s why I’m here. My hands ?”

Chan nobbed and you pecked his lips one more time before backing off a little, allowing you more space to touch him. He saw you licking your lips while pulling off his shorts and boxer just enough to free his hard cock, and it was hot as hell. He should have been ashamed by the fact he was already leaking precum, but your hungry look threw away his last piece of dignity, leaving him entirely at your mercy.

“- You weren’t joking when you said you missed me, hm ?”

Once again, Chan should've felt ashamed, but you both knew you were right. The feeling of his own hands on him wasn’t quite the half of what he was feeling when it was your hands. Your lustful gaze was focused only on his throbbing dick, your teeth biting into the flesh of your plush bottom lip as you watched him chasing your touch. That was making it very difficult for him not to blow right away.

“- Feels good Channie ?

- Yeah… Keep going, please.”

You chuckled lightly at his pleading. He should have known how crazy he was driving you just by existing, not to mention the effect he had on you every time he turned into a stuttering mess under your hands, and it was even worse every time he decided to take control - and you let him do that happily every time. He should have known that he didn’t need to beg for it, that you were eager to please him whenever he liked. 

You pushed your thumb against his flushed cockhead, making him gasp and whine under your touch, before spreading his precum along his now fully hard dick. Your wrist was moving way faster now, your fingers tightening around him. Chan closed his eyes shut, feeling his orgasm approaching too fast. He wanted to enjoy your touch some more, wanted you to look at him the way you did right now all the time - as if he was the only thing in your world. But he needed his sweet relief, he needed to finally let go of the tension and frustration of these past days. 

“- Just a little more… Please…”

You almost moaned, only hearing his low voice begging you was enough for you to surrender and give him what he wanted. You quickened your pace one more time, leaning down to kiss him. And that was all he needed to completely let go, moaning in your mouth as he came hard, his vision becoming blurry and his head starting to spin.

Chan stayed still for a moment, trying to come down off his high. And when he finally opened his eyes again, it was to see you licking your fingers clean. That made something switch in him. You’d notice by the way his eyes darkened, the way his jaw clenched hard, the way his fingers dug into the skin of your hips. 

Without saying a word, he stood up, placing his hands under your thighs to prevent you from falling. You were about to put your hands around his neck but he threw you on his bed, a whine leaving your throat when your back hitted the mattress. That. That was what you loved so much about Chan - he could be putty in your hands and the next second manhandling you like you weighed nothing. 

You admired him as he tossed his clothes away, letting your eyes wander on his tough shoulders, his toned abs, his muscular thighs. You found yourself speechless every time you saw him naked. How could he not see how handsome he was ? You pressed your thighs together trying to suppress your growing desire as he hovered over you on the bed. In no time, he settled between your legs that you spread for him as soon as you felt his knee pushing against them, earning a growl of approval from him. 

“- Take off your clothes.”

You didn’t think twice before doing it. You didn’t think at all in fact. His hungry gaze was burning you, so much you thought you’d explode if he didn’t touch you. Thankfully, he unfastened your belt, sliding your jeans and underwear down your thighs as you threw away your shirt and bra, ending up naked underneath his starved look. He immediately brought his hand to your core, pushing his thumb against your clit, making you whimper. 

“- So wet already… Want me that much baby ?

- Yeah… Please Chan…”

He took your chin between two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him while he sucked off his thumb covered in your slit. And that was enough to make you whine, not only because he was so hot you wanted to bounce on his dick for hours, but also because you knew how much he loved every noise coming out of your mouth.

“- You’re really not going to stop teasing, hum ?”

Your smirk was telling it all, and Chan had enough of you and your filthy mouth. He just wanted to hear you cry and scream only his name, wanted to feel like he was the one made for you. 

“- On all fours baby, and hang on tight.”

You gulped and just obeyed, as if your ability to speak had been removed from you. You settled yourself, and as soon as you stopped moving, he thrusted into you so roughly you would’ve crashed into the headboard if you weren’t gripping on it tightly. The sound you were letting out were animalistic, but you weren’t able to care anymore, not when Chan was pounding into you so hard you think you’ll split in two. But the worst was that you liked it so much, feeling like he could make you come with each thrust of his dick in you, even if he didn’t take the time to stretch you out, it was even more delicious.

“- C-Chan…”

You were interrupted by a loud moan when the man behind you buried himself even deeper inside of you, hitting all the right places at once. You tried to talk again, tell him that you needed more, but your words were coming out as an incoherent mumbling. 

“- So dumb everytime I put my dick in you, aren’t you ? Just need me to fill up your tight cunt…”

You nobbed eagerly, unable to do something else than crying out his name. And that was driving him crazy, his chest filling up with pride knowing he was the only one to please you like that, to fuck you like that. One of his hands slid from your hips, all along your spine, spreading shivers on your skin, only to end up in your hair, grabbing a fistfull of them and forcing you to arch your back even more, allowing him to sink even deeper into you. You were probably drooling, but you didn’t gave a fuck, simply moaning when Chan pulled your hair.

“- Look at you baby… Can’t even talk anymore…”

He tugged your hair harder, the nails of his other hand digging in the skin of your hips from how roughly he was guiding you on his cock. 

“- Maybe I should shut you up like this more often, what do you think ?”

You wanted to say something, wanting to let him know he could use you whenever he wanted to and that you would absolutely adore it.

“- Would you like me to fuck you every time you talk back ?”

And like every other time, he knew what you wanted, saying all the things you needed to hear, doing all the things you needed him to do. 

“- Please… P-Please Chan… I-I need to-”

Another thrust shut you down, reducing you to a mumbling mess. You felt tears pool under your eyelids as the pleasure hit you harder and harder with each thrust, tightening the coil in your stomach. 

“- Use your words, slut.”

The nickname paired to the moan he left out when he felt you clench around his shaft made you feel dizzy, made you feel like you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“- N-Need to cum… S-Shit !”

Chan let go of your hair, your head falling back into the pillow, guiding his fingers directly on your clit, circling it harshly and sending you over the edge in less than a minute. Your moans were so loud you almost felt sorry for his neighbors. Almost because you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you were feeling so much pleasure you could’ve faint. 

Your arms were numb, and your legs were shaking so much you would’ve passed out from the intensity of your orgasm if Chan wasn’t holding you. But his sloppy trusts were keeping you awake, aware of every move he was making, of every noise coming out of his mouth. 

“- Fuck ! You’re so tight… Can I cum inside ?”

You couldn't help your smile, loving the fact that he kept asking you the same question, even though you both knew your answer would always be the same. 

“- Yes, please…”

Chan moaned, and you could easily picture him throwing his head back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came, face contorted by the pleasure he was feeling as his orgasm washed over him. You felt his hot cum being spilled out of your pussy as Chan slowed the pace of his thrusts until he stopped totally. You needed a long time to find your breath again, feeling the desire to sleep creeping on you quickly. 

You didn’t react when Chan pulled out of you and helped you get on your back to clean you up. You hummed happily, feeling his touch as light as a feather on your thighs and whole body. You only came back to reality when he stroked your cheek, finding him smiling at you brightly. 

“- Can I stay tonight ?”

You didn’t think about it, it just came out naturally, like it was where you should have been for a long time. It was strange to realize how much you wanted to sleep in his arms just now. But what felt even more right was his honest answer when he immediately said yes. You settled yourself comfortably in his arms, enjoying being engulfed by his warmth and scent. 

“- Thank you for coming…”

You chuckled lightly against his chest, remaining playing with the hair at the back of his head.

“- You don’t need to thank me for that Channie, I’ll always be there for you no matter what happens.”

Chan stayed silent for a long time. He felt like it was the right time, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe he will scare you and ruin his chances to be with you one way or another. Maybe you will run away. Maybe you will tell him you just wanted him as a friend, just wanted him for sex. But he knew he could not keep up with this situation much longer. 

“- I really did miss you… And not just only for… That… Think I might be starting to really like you.”

You said it almost in one breath, not wanting to lose your courage at the last second. You were aware that chances of him liking you back were very low, and you were aware it was you who had established the rules between you. But you also knew that you liked him much more than a friend or a fuck buddy. You liked all his little habits, even the ones he said were the most annoyings, you liked being the only one staying so late in his studio and getting to cuddle him even if he was busy as hell. You liked his smile, his tendency to always care for you, his ability of remembering all of these little details you even forgot telling him about. 

“- Might take you on a date then… I want to do things right this time.”

You finally lifted your head up, meeting his nervous but shining eyes. You could feel his heart beating way faster under the palm that was still placed on his chest. 

“- You did everything you could right. It’s me. I set up boundaries just to cross them out a few months later… And I was stupid to do that just because I was afraid of my feelings. I would love to go out with you.”

Chan kissed your forehead, and you sighed in relief. You didn’t realize until now how much you were craving this tenderness from him, and you couldn’t wait to finally be his official girlfriend to benefit from it every day, and so did Chan. You were all he could have ever dreamt of, and now you were in his arms. And he knew, for the first time of his life, that everything would be alright : with you by his side, he could only be alright.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

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[formulawolff]

iii. objects in the mirror - t.w. + m.v.

pairing -> reserve fem driver!reader x toto wolff x max verstappen

word count -> 2.8k

warnings -> morally gray individuals, slow burn, sexual content (intercourse), allusions to sexual content, cursing, lots of power imbalance, questionable boss x employee dynamics, light toxicity, slight controlling tendencies from toto, miscommunication trope (only for this chapter!!!)

a/n -> she’s baaaaaacckkkk! i hope y’all enjoy the messiness that is about to unfold! i missed you all so much! <3 p.s., give objects in the mirror by mac miller a listen while reading this chapter!

prev. | next.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

he stands at the barriers, fingers curling around the cool surface. his jaw clenches as the press begins to cluster around, their cameras poised, eager to capture every word. every movement.

the blinking red lights are beady and unforgiving as the reporters raise their phones and mics, nearly shoving them toward his face.

"max, what did you make of qualifying?"

"max! over here! how does it feel to be outperformed by a reserve driver?"

"max! max! is she a threat to your pursuit of a perfect start?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the dutch driver shakes his head, suppressing the chuckle rumbling in the base of his throat.

what kinds of questions were these? how was he supposed to answer of them? who hired these people to represent the press?

yet, he knew he had to answer their burning questions. it was a requirement set forth by the fia. a term and condition in his contract. a duty of the job.

"well," max coughs, shifting slightly as all eyes fall on him, "i-i didn't perform to the best of my abilities. the car is good, the strategy was good, and we had a great game plan. i was the one who didn't do my part. i could have done some things differently, especially on some of the turns.

but this is only the first race. we have so much ahead this season, it's difficult to really tell how it will all play out. we will just have to take it weekend by weekend. session by session. race by race. that's about all i can really say right now. did that answer your questions?"

"all but one," a journalist waves her hand, "you avoided the question regarding the reserve driver. how did it feel to be outperformed by someone who has not competed in a single formula one race? she was a second and a half faster than you on the track. is that sort of concerning to you or red bull? or do you believe that it was the car that won her pole?"

the dutch driver puckers his lips, tongue gliding along his teeth a pause settles over the crowd, consuming them with silence. his gaze scans over the reporters, taking in how they glance uneasily at one another, cautious not to speak any further.

he was well aware of why they were nervous.

well, rather who they were wary of.

mad max.

he cocks his head, lips curling into a smug smirk, "you all witness one subpar performance and think that--"

however, something moves in his peripheral, the words trailing off as he's pulled away.

not something, but someone.

her.

absolutely and uttered swarmed by other outlets, their journalists hounding her like some damn dogs. the lights from the cameras are almost blinding, his eyes squinting from the harsh light. on her face, sweat lingers, illuminating her skin with a soft, dewy glow. she's still in her suit but it's half unzipped, the material bunching perfectly around her hips, almost hugging them.

there's an itching sensation in his fingers and toes, almost like his body was urging him to move. almost as if he needed to be in close proximity to her.

to orbit around her like a planet, just so that he could be in her space.

he can't make out what they're asking, but it's clear that she's visibly uncomfortable. her eyes dart back and forth, unable to maintain steady eye contact with a single reporter. she's swaying slightly, a desperate attempt to self-soothe as all of their voices blend together.

fuck, did she execute a brilliant drive. the pace she held on the car was incredible, every turn and chicane flawless. somehow, she was able to push that w15 to its full potential.

she was like lighting. if you blinked, you would have missed her soaring down that track.

it was almost like she was destined for formula one. like she belonged in one of those twenty seats from the very beginning. if only he could have talked some sense into christian.

if only.

the image of her on top of the car, pumping her fists in the air would forever be engrained in his memory. the way strands of hair clung to her forehead as she pulled that balaclava off. the way her grin was brighter than the lights of the grandstands. the way stars shone in her eyes, the adrenaline pumping through her veins as the team swept her up into their arms.

god, he had never seen her so happy. so full of life. so ethereal in that moment, radiating nothing but pure, holy light.

a goddess walking the earth, brightening the world with her angelic presence.

not any world, but his world.

there was that feeling creeping in. that stinging sensation.

the one feeling that always lingered, no matter how desperately he pushed it away.

that one fucking feeling.

"max," a voice cuts in, "are you going to answer?"

"u-uhm," the dutch driver blinks, a hand instinctively cupping the base of his neck, "i have no comment, really. we will just have to see how tomorrow unfolds. as far as the rest of the season, we will just have to wait and see. that's all i have to say."

forming a tight-lipped smile, max gives a final nod, swiveling on his heel. the journalists call out his name, in vain attempts to flag him down. to capture one last statement. to get one more clip.

they wouldn't though.

not when his mind was clouded.

clouded by her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"i'm so proud of you."

the words are quiet, laced with a softness you couldn't quite put your finger on.

your chin tilts upward, a giggle bubbling up in your throat, "oh yeah?"

he nods fervently, fingers drifting to your face. they roam along your cheekbone, tracing down your jawline, "baby, i'm so proud of you. so fucking proud."

"i didn't really know what was happening until i heard them over the radio," heat billows into your cheeks as max's mouth curves into a quaint smile, a glimmer in his gaze as you continue, "i was just in the zone, you know?"

"mhmmm," he hums, carefully brushing a loose strand from your forehead, "i know exactly what you're talking about."

a hazy bliss hangs in the air, your bodies intertwined, shrouded by the warmth of the comforter. heated skin presses against yours, your head nuzzled against his collarbone. an arm hangs lazily around your waist, thumb massaging along your hip.

if only you could just stay here. cozied up with max verstappen, high off the thrill of racing and oxytocin. basking in his affection and admiration, kisses peppering your forehead and temple.

"are you ready to get your ass kicked tomorrow?"

max arches a brow, and you catch a flicker in his eye.

the flicker of fire.

"you sure about that one, love?"

"i think it'll be a good race," propping yourself up with your elbow, you lean in, the tip of your nose brushing against his, "you know what i think we should do?"

you inch closer, a rosy pink hue tinging his cheeks, "what's that?"

"i think that whoever loses tomorrow, has to give the winner head."

"oh?" the corners of max's mouth curve, forming a wide smile, "you know what i think? i think that's simply lovely."

shaking your head, you roll your eyes as max bursts into a fit of laughter, his chest vibrating against yours. you huff, rolling away from him. the laugh is hearty, deep from his diaphragm. it's a rare laugh, one reserved for those closest to him.

a sound only heard by the people he loved.

"come here," his breath fans against your ear as his forearm tightens around your waist, "don't hide from me."

the words are breathy, almost needy.

as if he couldn't bear a second longer without you in his arms.

you shift, puckering your lips as a shiver runs down your spine, "where did this max come from?"

"he's always been here," a hand glides along your neck, grasping it oh so slightly as his mouth ghosts over yours, "d-do you have any idea of what you do to me?"

your lashes flutter as your heart skips a beat, "i-i don't know if i--"

a shrill noise floods the space, earning a flinch from you as max exhales, turning over. he reaches for the nightstand, squinting from the brightness of his phone. your lower lip juts out, forming a pout as his focus on you completely crumbles.

as he types away, there's this gnawing in your gut, the temperature of the room dropping a few degrees. when it came to you, max provided nothing but his complete and utter attention. he never answered his phone unless it was a call. and usually, it wasn't anyone other than his mom, gianpiero, checo, or christian calling.

he always affirmed to you that texts, emails, and other notifications could wait.

so, what suddenly captivated his attention?

or rather, who?

peering over his shoulder, your eyes narrow.

he's on instagram, scrolling through a conversation thread in his direct messages. at first, it looks like a fan, which was not uncommon. max received all sorts of messages from fans, from all ages and genders. more than half of the time, they were women, but it didn't bother you.

if you were his fan, you would dm him too.

however, as you make out the username, your heart sinks.

it was none other than kelly piquet. daughter of nelson piquet. a name well-known in the world of motorsports.

a name that left an awful, putrid taste in your mouth.

you did a great job this weekend! i can't wait to watch you race tomorrow! you're gonna win, i just know it. 😘

your lower lip trembles, your chest tightening as you notice more and more messages. photos too. anything from seflies to photos of her in workout sets or bikinis. tons and tons of emojis, ranging from hearts to kissy faces.

tears well up, the initial disbelief dissolving into fiery rage.

"w-when did you start talking to kelly piquet?"

your voice is so low max can't pick out the words. hitting the lock screen button, he rolls back, facing you. two hands cup your cheeks, eyes locking with yours.

"baby, i'm not talking to her."

"obviously you are!" a sob escapes your throat, the tears trickling down, "why are you fucking entertaining that? you were responding to her message! i saw it!"

"do you want to see my phone?" max pleads, "i'll let you look at my phone. you can go through everything--"

"i don't want to see any more," you jaw clenches, "just get the fuck out. please."

"don't make me go," his voice falters, "please, just let me explain."

carefully, you begin to sit up. wiping away your tears, you raise your arm, pointing at the door, "j-just go. i don't want to hear another word from you. just get the fuck out of here."

"baby, let me just fucking tell you what's going on--"

squeezing your eyes shut, your shoulders shake as the cries erupt, spilling out, "i-i think i have a g-good idea of w-what's--"

"i love you. do you hear me? i fucking love you. i would rather lose everything. my fucking career. my awards and accolades. everything that i own. i would lose it all if it meant i could have you."

"you d-don't," you spit out, the despair withering away to fury, "if you loved me, you wouldn't be fucking and entertaining other women. get out of my fucking room, max. get the fuck out. i don't want to hear from you or speak to you ever again. get out of my fucking life."

in that moment, you sense his defeat.

max couldn't argue with you any longer. if that's what you wanted, then he would obey. as much as his mind screamed at him to stay, to just hold and comfort you, he knew you were stubborn.

he couldn't blame you, not one bit.

after all, things did look pretty bad. you caught him responding to a woman who was consistently messaging him. and not just any woman.

a woman he had a brief fling with, several years before he met you.

a woman that you knew about, simply because max couldn't help but share the details. not because he wanted you to know, but because he was comfortable with you.

you knew things about him that no one else did. you knew what his favorite toy was when he was only a six year-old boy. you knew what song he listened to before every race, how he liked his tomato soup, and the darkness surrounding his upbringing.

you knew max verstappen in ways no one else did.

which, is why he loved you. he loved that he could be vulnerable with you. you were his safe haven. the sun to his moon. the woman who placed the stars in the sky.

the one person he was completely and utterly himself with.

and now, you were sitting here, dried tears sticking to your heated cheeks, ordering him to go. forcing him out of your life.

he wouldn't blame you for acting this way.

he knew your temper. he was well aware that it would only be a couple of hours before you were calling him, desperate to hear his voice because it was the only way you could fall asleep. you would beg for him to sing that one lullaby, in his native tongue. the one he wanted to sing for you every night until you dozed off in his arms.

yet, if you wanted him gone, then that's what he would do.

after all, max was patient.

he would wait.

even if it took months, he would wait until you were ready to forgive him.

shoving an arm through his coat, he crossed the room, finding the door. glancing over his shoulder, he looked at you one last time.

you were curled up in the bed, wrapped underneath the comforter. your sobs were muffled, but he could hear them. it felt almost as if there was a dagger, tearing his chest open and driving into his heart.

but he had to leave. it was what you wanted.

it's what you needed, as much as it pained him to leave you.

as max verstappen slipped out from the front door of your motorhome, a figure lingered in the shadows, their curiosity piquing as max shouts and curses about, his voice carrying across the night.

toto wolff, team principal of mercedes folds his arms across his chest, clicking his tongue.

"oh sweet girl, what did you get yourself into?"

cautiously, the team principal flicks his head back and forth, ensuring there max was out of sight. after all, it was approximately 1:06 a.m. surely he wouldn't be noticed.

see, it wasn't like toto intended to witness what he just did. he just happened to be taking an evening stroll. and well, part of his stroll just happened to be in front of your motorhome. it was simply part of the route that he took every race weekend.

sucking in a breath, the team principal made his way toward your door.

he knew he shouldn't. he knew the risks involved. he knew how messy this could get.

but toto wolff wanted to build a champion.

and that's what he would do.

no matter what it took.

licking his lips, the team principal raises his hand, gently rapping his knuckles against the door. it only takes about a minute before the door opens. at first, it's merely a crack, your head barely poking out.

there's an uneasy feeling that seeps into his chest as he notices the crimson hue tinging your eyes, the lids puffy from tears. your hair is a little messier than usual, a loose t-shirt hanging from your frame.

when you recognize who it is, you straighten a little, clearing your throat.

"u-uh, hi toto. you know it's late right?"

"i know," he nods, "but i was taking a stroll to clear my head and noticed someone around your motorhome. is everything okay?"

"oh?" your brow furrows, and he picks up the way you shrink slightly, "i didn't know that. i've been asleep."

"oh really?" toto cocks his head, sensing your demeanor shift as he catches you right where he wants you, right in the middle of your lie, "are you telling the truth?"

your sniff, feeling your palms clam up as he studies you, picking you apart, "i-i don't know what you're talking about."

the team principal takes a step forward, a hand darting out. it caresses your cheek, the pad of his thumb catching a tear as it falls.

"tell me, hase. are you having boy troubles?"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @sweetjellyfishland @ts1m1kas @bxuzi @racecardilfs @bblouifford @justacornerofmybrain @irishmanwhore @sleutherclaw @marknolee @jeannealicette @allyisalright-blog @omgsuperstarg @okdokeygryssel63 @noooway555

[ikkyfics]

Love Bites

vampire!James Potter x human!reader

Summary: You never thought a coffin could be so comfortable, until you curled up in James Potter's arms.

Warnings: AU, Gothic romance, classic vampires (bites and blood), tones of possessiveness, suggestive scenes, mention of pleasurable pain.

Masterlist

You never thought a coffin could be so comfortable.

The velvet beneath your body was soft, an almost cruel contrast to the weight of being in such a narrow, pitch-black space. But it wasn’t the coffin that brought you comfort. It was him. James.

Curled against his body, you felt the cold of his skin and, at the same time, the feverish heat that their presence conjured together. Your breathing was ragged, still trying to recover from the kisses you had exchanged moments before, intense and desperate, as if they were the first and the last at the same time.

“Your heart,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive, so close you could almost feel it run over your skin like a shiver. “It’s so fast.”

He paused, and you knew he was listening. The sound of the beats pulsed against your own ears, but for him, for James, it was different. It was a melody, a promise of life, as sweet as it was dangerous.

“Every beat,” he continued, as if savoring the words, “is delicious. So alive. So human. And now you’re here, in my coffin, with your scent intoxicating everything around me. How do you expect me to resist?”

You felt his smile against your hair, a gesture filled with something that bordered on absolute satisfaction. It wasn’t just the fact that you were there. It was what it represented. You had chosen to be here. With him. For him.

“I’ve always been drawn to the night,” you murmured, the words sounding like a confession. “The silence, the mystery, the promise of something more… When you came, James, I knew. There was no other place for me. There couldn’t be.”

He leaned in slightly, the space between you so nonexistent that it seemed impossible for you to be separated by bodies. His fingers brushed your cheek, cool but with a touch that made your skin burn.

“You belong to the night,” he whispered, his voice deepening, almost possessive. “And now… you belong to me.”

The shiver that ran down your spine was pure delight. There was something forbidden, dark and sublime in his words. An inescapable truth that you accepted without question. The world outside the coffin seemed like a distant memory, dull and unimportant. All that mattered was here, in that cramped space, in that moment where time and morality seemed to have no meaning.

He moved closer, his lips hovering close to your neck, and you felt his cool breath against your skin. There was no fear. Only surrender. Only desire. Your fingers found his, intertwining, and you felt the firm grip that said as much as any words could.

“You’re torment,” he chuckled softly, the sound reverberating in the enclosed space. “So alive, and yet so mine. I shouldn’t… but I can’t help it.”

His lips found yours again, and the world, completely, disappeared. There was no more room for doubt. You knew that the night would always be your place. And that James would be the darkness where you would lose yourself forever.

The kiss that began as a subtle touch of lips soon became something more. The intensity between you grew like a storm about to break, and the feeling of his fingers tracing invisible lines across your skin made you burn inside. He was meticulous, as if every movement, every touch, was planned to leave you utterly vulnerable.

You noticed when he paused for a moment, just long enough to let out a sigh between his teeth, as if he was absorbing something that only he could feel.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” He asked, his voice hoarse and filled with a control that seemed about to crumble. “Every little reaction of yours… every tremor, every quickened beat of your heart. I feel it all.”

His eyes, even invisible in the darkness, burned against you like embers. It was as if he were peering directly into your soul, stripping away all your secrets, savoring your surrender with an almost cruel satisfaction.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours again, hungrier this time. And then, you felt it: the light touch of his fangs, sharp and relentless, brushing against your lower lip. It was a brief, almost tender gesture, but when the cut came, it was as deliciously painful as it was unexpected. A warm trickle of blood slid across your mouth and flowed into his, James groaned softly, a sound that was half pleasure and half despair.

He tasted the blood as if it were a rare nectar, leaving you breathless and completely at his mercy, sucking on your lip until he squeezed out the last drop of blood. The sensation was so intense, so maddening, that a shiver ran down your spine, followed by a feverish heat that seemed to consume every fiber of your being. Your heart beat in an uncontrolled rhythm, so loud that you could almost hear it echoing in the small space, and each pulse was like a melody that James seemed to absorb with cruel pleasure.

“James…” your whisper escaped, full of desperation, a plea that barely seemed yours. “Please… I need you.”

He pulled away just enough so that you could feel his smile hovering over your lips, teasing and satisfied. His cold fingers moved along the curve of your neck, slowly descending to your shoulder, tracing invisible paths on your feverish skin. The touch was icy, but it set you on fire in a way that no worldly heat could.

“Do you need me?” His voice was a whisper, but it was filled with something dark and devastating. “I can feel how much you want me, my sweet mortal. Your pain, your surrender… I can hear every delicious beat of your heart begging for me.”

His words were both poison and balm. You were dizzy, numb from his proximity, from the fangs that had touched your lip moments before and now hovered dangerously close to your neck. Your entire body was shaking, not from fear, but from an absurd urgency that seemed to tear away every shred of control you might have had.

“Please, James…” Your voice faltered, but the fingers that gripped his shoulder left no doubt about your plea. “Bite me. I need to feel you… I need to be yours.”

He chuckled softly, a deep sound that reverberated in the enclosed space, and the sound made something inside you clench painfully, as if the anticipation was too much to bear. “So impatient,” he murmured, an almost sadistic pleasure in his voice. “So delicious in your need… You’re my undoing, you know that?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were lost in the way his hands explored your body, moving down the curve of your waist, settling there as if marking that moment. Each touch was deliberate, each movement seemed charged with a power that left you on the edge of the abyss. And he knew it. He felt it.

When his fangs finally broke the skin of your neck, it was as if the whole world collapsed around you. The pain came first, sharp, cutting, but it soon gave way to an overwhelming pleasure that made you gasp, your fingers closing tighter against him. Your heart seemed to explode inside your chest, and the feeling of having James there, feeding on you, was so surreal and intimate that it made tears appear in the corners of your eyes.

He drank slowly, savoring every drop as if it were the best thing he had ever tasted, and when he finally stopped, wiping your skin so that not a single drop escaped, you were powerless, but not weak. You were completely, irrevocably alive.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered, a mix of devotion and cruelty on his lips, caressing your face as he watched you gasp. “Hungry for me. Lost in me. And I couldn’t want anything more.”

His eyes gleamed in the darkness, and the smile that played on his lips was both a warning and a promise. His face moved closer to yours again, close enough for the scent of blood—your blood—to rise to your nose. You felt his fingers curl around your neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp.

“Now, my sweet mortal, tell me again,” his lips brushed yours. “To whom do you belong?”

“To you,” you whispered, without hesitation, because you knew there was no other answer. There never had been.

And the way he looked at you after that made your heart falter one last time, before you were completely plunged into the darkness he brought.

[blitzwhore]

What Ghostfuckers shows us about Blitzø, his face scar and eye trauma, and his deepest fears.

As we already know, Blitzø's scars come from the same accident that maimed Fizz, killed Blitzø's mom, and burned Blitzø's life as he knew it to ashes. We also know Blitzø blames himself for the accident, because he inadvertently caused it by pushing aside the imp carrying Fizz's cake.

In Oops, we also saw Blitzø's eye got badly hurt during the accident.

And, even though it seems to have fully recovered given his precision with a gun, it is still permanently and completely surrounded by scar tissue.

It's his most visible scar—the only one he cannot cover up with his daily attire. It represents his vulnerability and broadcasts it to the world. So much so that, when he's feeling at his most helpless, he shields it from view as a means to protect himself.

Eyes are typically represented in fiction as windows to the soul, so one's eye being hurt or scarred can be a representation of how broken, hurt, or tainted they are/feel inside; an unclosable window that displays their deepest trauma for everyone to see.

We also know Blitzø privately crosses out his face in pictures with his loved ones, and we've seen across multiple episodes that the side of his face that is highlighted in each scene can relate to his emotional state. His scarred side is in full view in moments when he's losing control of his emotional state and unable to hide his vulnerability, whereas his unscarred side will be in view when he's trying to avoid/hide his insecurities and pretend everything is fine. On key moments when he's being honest with himself and others about his emotions, his front side will show, a representation of him acknowledging both sides and approaching a balance between them.

In Ghost Fuckers, eye trauma is also used to represent Blitzø's emotional turmoil, except the eye trauma is no longer his own—it is very blatantly extended to others.

In his Millie hallucination, every single Millie except for the one with the broken arm has got something wrong with one or both of her eyes. Each of them is the realization of Millie being hurt because Blitzø put her in harm's way: the bottle shards from Murder Family, the fire in Loo Loo Land, the giant fish from Spring Broken, the angelic arrow in CHERUBS, and the final Millie, which seems to match the hotel bellboy, implying Rolando has hurt or affected her in some way.

(Notice how Blitzø's scarred side is showing again in this moment).

All these Millies have been ruined in the same way Blitzø is ruined, and they've been ruined because of Blitzø. Because he needed her. Because he put her in harm's way. Because he cared about her enough to selfishly keep her in his life.

All of these Millies have ended up "like him": permanently marked as broken.

This is what his love does, in his eyes (pun not intended). It damages people beyond repair. It is a contagious and unstoppable force that will inevitably destroy anything and anyone it—he—touches.

Just like it did his mother.

She, too, loses an eye in his hallucination. An eye that falls right in his hand as she burns away, marking him as responsible for her corruption; an eye that looks at him even as she vanishes from his grasp. Almost as if she knows. Knows what he did, knows he's to blame for her death. Knows that if it weren't for him, and his feelings, and his love, she'd still be whole. She'd still be alive.

This masterful visual representation of Blitzø's guilt and fear is perfectly summarised in Millie's line, “when was the last time you loved someone without hurting them?” Blitzø truly believes anyone who stays close to him will end up just like him: damaged, and traumatised, and broken, or worse—dead.

And all because he was selfish enough to let himself be loved and cared for by them.

[fan-a-tink]

had a vision.

Dead Boy Detectives - the core four

I wanted this to be a purely aesthetic post, but in the process of making the gifs I've had some thoughts, so here you go: Seeing the core four's "action shots" all side by side made me realise that they each kind of represent their character's journey as well.

We've got Charles, who is taking back control, hitting back. He acts as the protector he would have needed when he was alive, but also he is defending and protecting someone close to him, no longer helpless in the face of abuse and violence. And his strength comes from a point of defense, not aggression like his father. He's very much not a bad guy, but the literal hero of the shot.

Then there's Edwin running from a WWI soldier and going through the looking glass, jumping from one world to the next, pushing through his own reflection (and how people have bullied and killed him for perceiving him as effeminate and queer) and finding his queerness on the other side, landing on his own two feet, balanced and steady, having found this whole new world of feeling and acceptance on the other side. Edwin, my beloved.

Crystal (aaahhh I could write a thesis on Crystal, honestly) who is being thrown off balance and into limbo, existing between two lives while she is searching for her stolen memories. She's is constantly being pulled in two directions, between her past and her future, between David the demon and the cute ghost distraction, between letting go of toxic relationships and embracing her new found family.

And then Niko, Niko is just ascending.

credit for the Charles gif goes to @mellxncollie

Ok and if you're still reading, here's another thing I noticed while making these "action shot" gifs - both Charles and Edwin are very much agents of these actions in their shots, while things are done to Crystal and Niko. Charles throws and catches the cricket bat, initiating and controlling the action. Edwin jumps through the mirror, he is the one who maneuvers himself through. But Crystal is pushed by David, falls through the floor, off balance and out of control, and she is caught by Charles. And Niko is being lifted up by the sprites who have taken control of her body. I think it's a neat way to show a gendered division within the core four, but also both girls move beyond their initial helplessness/passiveness and become real freaking badasses, while the boys later on get their fair share of having things happen to them instead. And in the season finale it's Crystal and Niko who save our two ghost damsels in distress. I don't know where I'm going with this, it was just something I noticed and I thought you guys might have some more eloquent and coherent thoughts.