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katsu28 · 5 months ago

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first time for everything

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: a lot of things were in the cards for oscar’s first home race. he just wasn’t expecting confessing his love for you to be one of them. (3.3k)

warnings: maybe a swear word idk

a/n: my first oscar fic! not sure if i've got his personality down quite yet but hopefully i've done him justice :)

“You’re nervous.”

Oscar tore his attention from his phone camera, where he was messing with the swoop of his hair for what had to be the fifth time. He shook his head, though you could probably see right through him. “No, I’m not—I just didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were nervous for today.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, Oscar. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

You were right, he was nervous about a lot of things—this weekend was his first home race, the first race you were able to attend during his time as a driver for McLaren. But the first thing he learned from competing at this level was to never let his nerves show. Put up a front, make it seem like he was cool as a cucumber so people wouldn’t doubt him, let his skills on the track do all the talking.

Normally, Oscar was good about that. But you could see right through him. You knew him well enough to know how he was feeling and how to help, even if he himself didn’t quite understand it.

The story of you and Oscar was quite the cliche, really. He knew of you through a friend of a friend and was instantly intrigued without even meeting you, managed to reach out, and the rest was history.

You hadn’t even met each other face to face until a month into your constant texting, but when you did finally find the opportunity to meet up in person, it was like you’d both found the other half of yourselves in each other. While Oscar was more of a straight to the point, cut and dry kind of guy, you managed to bring him out of his shell a little bit, to get him to expand his horizons (within reason, of course).

You were the opposite—always smiling, always happy to try new things, warm and sunshine-y and everything in between. Oscar toned you down without holding you back, reminded you to take a breather before immediately jumping into the next exciting thing, to enjoy what you had while you had it so you wouldn’t miss anything.

He’d only just gained the courage to ask you out a few months back, but it only seemed fitting that you were here with him for his first race in front of his home crowd.

“It’s a lot to process.” Oscar admitted, letting his shoulders creep up towards his ears in a shrug. You leaned against him, looping an arm through the crook of his elbow and slipping your hand into his for a reassuring squeeze, pressing your chin against his bicep. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down, y’know? Wanna make everyone proud.”

“You’re going to do great. I promise.” You said firmly, reaching up to push his hair into its perfect place. Oscar nuzzled into your touch on instinct, letting you cradle his cheek in the palm of your hand. Your thumb swept over his cheek a few times, lulling him into a sense of contentment.

“Forget me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited! I’ve never done something like this before.” You replied, letting your hand drop. “And kinda nervous, but it’ll be fine, right?”

“Yeah, ‘course it will.”

“Have any sage words of wisdom for a first time paddock goer?”

“Oh, you know me. Keep your head down, walk fast. There’s gonna be a lot of cameras, lots of fans, they’re all gonna want something from you. I’ll be with you as long as I can, so I’ll be there in case things start to get out of hand.”

“Can I say hi to the fans?”

“If you want to, yeah. They already love you.”

That was another thing Oscar had to be worried about. Today was a day full of firsts, it felt like, because it was also the first time you’d be making your public debut as a couple. You’d already become a fan favorite when the two of you were just friends (two very mutually pining friends, no less), but making your relationship paddock official seemed daunting.

Oscar wasn’t at all worried about what people would think. In fact, he didn’t really care. He was happier than he’d been in a long time and nothing would change that. What he was worried about was how you’d be treated. Oscar loved the fans, he really did, but there were always that handful who thought they knew him—knew what was best for him. Knew who was best for him.

If he could protect you from any harm that could possibly be aimed your way, he’d do it in a heartbeat, but things could get so very unpredictable out there. The best he could do was keep you close.

Your grip on Oscar’s hand tightened just the slightest bit at seeing the sheer amount of people outside the window. Noticing this, he rubbed his thumb along your knuckles soothingly.

“You don’t have to come along.” He said softly. You tore your eyes away from the passing crowds to look at him. “There’s a back entrance, you can go through there.”

“No, it’s alright! I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? It’s okay if you're having second thoughts, sweetheart.”

“I’m not, I promise. It’s kind of a lot, but nothing I can’t handle.” You said firmly, more for yourself than anything. Oscar squeezed your hand with a soft smile. “If you can do it, I can do it.”

“There you go. You’ll be the star of the show. Everyone’ll be like Oscar Piastri who? There’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and just some guy.”

You had to bite back a laugh at his words paired with the deadpan expression gracing his face. Oscar always seemed to know how to get you to relax.

“Well, you’re the hottest just some guy I’ve ever seen.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling at how his fair skin immediately flamed hot under your lips.

Despite your previous hesitation, you looked entirely in your element as you made the walk hand in hand, looking around with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. Oscar couldn't help but watch you take it all in, not bothering to mask the awe in his eyes as he did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if photos of him looking at you made it to fan Twitter by the end of the day.

Oscar was whisked away as soon as you got through to hospitality, giving him barely enough time to say goodbye to you before he was shuttled to meeting after meeting, press conferences and pre race interviews, a thousand things to do in the few hours he had before he had to get ready for free practice.

He was already exhausted by the time he made it back to his driver’s room, pushing open the door with a heaving sigh. You glanced up at the commotion he was making, smiling at him warmly and setting aside your phone.

“Hey, you,” You hummed, holding out your arms towards Oscar as soon as he closed the door behind him.

“Hi.” Oscar sighed, folding you into his embrace as comfortably as he could in the cramped alcove. There was barely enough room for one person on the bench, let alone you and your boyfriend with his broad shoulders. You shifted sideways to solve the problem, throwing your legs over Oscar’s lap, to which his hand immediately came to rest on your knee. “I missed you.”

“Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.” You teased. Oscar rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, giving your leg a gentle pinch that you giggled at before leaning in to press a quick peck to his cheek. “I missed you too.”

“What did you get up to while I was gone?”

“Oh, so much! I took a walk around the paddock just to check everything out, and I kinda got lost, but someone helped me find my way back eventually.” You shrugged, not noticing the way Oscar’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline.

“Wait, you got lost? Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were busy.” You said, very as-a-matter-of-factly. He blinked at you slowly, a blank expression present on his face. “I’m a big girl, Osc, I can find my way around just fine.”

That made Oscar falter. You were right. He cared so much, especially about you—so much so that sometimes he forgot you were entirely capable of taking care of yourself.

“A lot of people asked to take pictures with me. Me! Isn’t that crazy?” You exclaimed, beaming bright. “I promised one of them your sweaty fireproofs in return, but that’s beside the point.”

“You what?” He spluttered, eyes widening almost comically. His fingers froze in their fiddling with the rings adorning your fingers.

“I’m kidding, obviously. Lighten up, Oscie, jeez.”

Oscar rolled his eyes playfully. “Right, well I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“You know what would make this day even more fun?”

“I don’t think I want to.”

You stuck your tongue out at him before continuing. “Can I meet Charles Leclerc? Is that something you can pull off?”

Technically speaking, it would be extremely easy for him to pull off. All he really had to do was bring you over to the Ferrari motorhome for a quick introduction, and he was sure Charles would take a liking to you, just like every other driver you’d gotten to meet so far. You had that kind of persona; one that made people want to get to know you.

Oscar quite liked that about you. What he wouldn’t like as much was you being immediately wooed by the driver’s seemingly irresistible French charm. And yeah, you were Oscar’s girlfriend and Charles also had a girlfriend of his own, but still. Nobody wanted to see the girl they loved fawning over another man, even one as cool as Charles Leclerc.

But Oscar would never tell you that, because he loved you, and he’d do anything to make you happy.

“Uh…yeah, sure. I could probably get you an intro, if that’s something you really want.” He heard himself saying, scratching the back of his neck. His heart thudded a little harder in his chest at the way your face lit up.

“Really?”

Oscar smiled tightly. “Why not? D’you wanna go now? There’s some time before we need to be on track.”

“That would be amazing, Osc.”

“Right then, let’s go.” He nudged your legs off him, heaving himself to his feet with a groan that would usually be associated with someone much older than him. You threaded your fingers through his as soon as he finished popping all his joints like an old man, following his lead out of the room and the motorhome, all the way to the bright Ferrari red building a few doors down.

Luckily, Charles was sitting at one of the tables in the main area, so you didn’t have to look far to find him.

“Charles, mate, you got a second?”

The aforementioned Monegasque tore his attention from his phone upon hearing Oscar’s voice, an easygoing smile already present on his face. “Oscar! What can I do for you, mate?” His eyes found you next, and he nodded politely. “Hello!”

“Hi.” You said quietly, clinging to Oscar’s hand tightly. This feeling was foreign to you. You’d never been so stunned into silence by someone before, but maybe that was because you’d never met someone as well known as the Charles Leclerc.

“This is my girlfriend. It’s her first time in the paddock and she’s a big fan of yours, figured I could introduce the two of you. Y/N, Charles. Charles, Y/N.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard much about you!” Charles exclaimed, popping to his feet. He moved forward to embrace you, wrapping you in a warm hug like he’d known you for a long time, let alone just met you not even fifteen seconds ago.

Oscar never really understood the whole hugging thing Charles had going on. Maybe it was a French thing. Either way, the hug seemed to have shaken you out of whatever starstruck daze you were in, because you straightened up.

Charles smiled warmly. “Welcome to your first race. I trust they are treating you well over at McLaren?”

“There’s definitely a few perks.” You replied, returning his infectious smile. You squeezed Oscar’s hand as you said it, and part of him felt a smidge proud that you considered him a perk. Charles laughed goodnaturedly. “I hate to sound so forward, but I wanted to say I love your music. The way you play piano is…the only way I can think to describe it is beautiful.”

“Oh wow, you—thank you! That means a lot, thank you. Do you play?”

“A little bit, but I haven’t had much time to sit at the bench lately.” You replied, giving a haphazard shrug. Charles nodded sympathetically, like he understood the troubles of carving out time to play. “D’you mind if I ask you a bit more about your inspiration while I’ve got you?”

“Of course, yes, yes, I would love to talk about it!”

Oscar touched a hand to the small of your back to snag your attention for a second. He liked music as much as the next person, but not as much as you and Charles, it seemed. “I’ll be over there.”

You nodded, popping up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before returning to your animated conversation with Charles.

Now, Oscar wasn’t a jealous guy by any means. On the contrary he was always quite calm and collected, so he thought he’d be fine. Secretly a little miffed, sure. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but actually seeing you go starry eyed while talking to Charles sparked something inside him. He didn’t know how hard he was squeezing the can in his hand until he felt liquid trickling down the sleeve of his fireproofs.

“Ah, shit.” He muttered, shaking out his arm frustratedly.

“Stare at her any harder and she might burst into flames, mate.”

Oscar glanced to his left to see Lando standing there, arms crossed over his chest, expectant brow arched.

“Dunno know what you’re talking about.” Oscar grumbled, moving to toss the now crumpled can into the nearest rubbish bin. Lando looked wildly unconvinced. “What?”

“Don’t feed me that shit, Oscar, you’re way too easy to read for me to believe you’re not absolutely fucking in love with Y/N.”

Oscar made an offended noise from the back of his throat. “I am not easy to read.”

“Mate, you’re the openest book in the history of open books right now.”

“Openest isn’t a word.”

“Whatever! Stop deflecting.” Lando scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “You love her. Tell her that.”

“I can’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t feel the same way yet?”

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” Lando groaned, letting his head tilt back in exasperation. Oscar squinted at him, unamused. “Oh, you’re serious? Mate, come on. Just today, in the half a day I’ve known her, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. I see the way you look at her when she’s not looking. It’s obvious. You’re both obnoxiously in love with each other, and it’s sickening.”

The corners of Oscar’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Really?”

“Oh my god, yes, really. I mean honestly, how dense can you be?”

“A lot, it seems.” Oscar cast another glance at you, feeling a lot better than he had a few minutes ago. You were laughing at something Charles had said, but now all that was running through his mind was how pretty you looked when you laughed. How happy you looked talking to a person you held a lot of admiration for. Professional admiration, nothing more.

Part of him felt a little guilty. He should’ve been supportive the whole time, not sulking around being a jealous little prick thinking you would ever choose Charles over him.

“No point in overthinking it now, bro.”

“Since when did you become such a wise old man?”

“Oi, watch it, you muppet. I’m only two years older than you.” Lando huffed, rolling his eyes. “And I’ve always been wise, thank you for noticing.”

“Sure you have.”

“Tell her.”

Oscar nodded once, accepting the clap on the shoulder Lando gave him. “I will. Thank you.”

“Of course. And if you ever need any more advice, come on down to Lando’s love shack, where you can get—”

“Leave now, I’m begging you.” Lando took the hint, wandering away to go wreak havoc somewhere else, leaving Oscar alone with his own thoughts as he waited for you to finish up. It wasn’t long until you were making your way back over, practically aglow with excitement as you approached him. “Made a new best friend, have you?”

You snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, of course. We’ve already arranged to go on a double date when we’re all in Monaco at the same time.”

“Ha ha, very funny. You do know Ferrari’s one of our top competitors, right?” Oscar laced his fingers through yours once more, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as you walked.

“You know what they say—keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Consider my blossoming friendship with Charles your way into the heart and soul of Ferrari’s strategies. You’re welcome.”

You were just joking, of course, and it made Oscar smile. Lando was right. Oscar was in love with you. He tugged you off the main path suddenly, leading you to a more secluded area between motorhomes.

“Osc? What’re you—” You were entirely cut off by him stopping in his tracks, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he was kissing you. He curled a hand around the back of your neck, the other coming up to cup your cheek gently.

It was by all means a sweet kiss, but a completely unexpected one nonetheless. Oscar had never been a public display of affection sort of guy before, so for him to kiss you out of the blue where anyone could see you…well, let's just say there was a first time for everything.

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You let out a noise of surprise, but returned his kiss wholeheartedly as soon as you realized what was happening.

“That was new.” You breathed as soon as he pulled away, splaying your palms across the firm plane of his chest to steady yourself after he’d kissed the living daylights out of you. Oscar’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a dazed grin stretching his lips. “You feeling alright, babe?”

“I love you.”

Immediately, you beamed, lighting up faster than a bonfire on a warm Melbourne night. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s about damn time you said it.” You poked his chest playfully, stifling a giggle at the way he did the biggest double take ever at your words.

“You—hang on, what?”

“I was waiting for you to be the one to say it first.” You shrugged. Oscar’s brow scrunched in confusion now. “Didn’t wanna scare you off and lose one of the best things in my life.”

“So…you do feel the same way?”

You reached up, smoothing a stray curl away from his forehead fondly. “Do I love you? ‘Course I do. I think I’ve loved you since the first time we met.”

“That was a good one, I should’ve said that. You’re so much better at this than I am.”

“What can I say? I’ve got the best just some guy as my inspiration.”

“I see what you did there. That’s gonna become a thing now, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Osc,” You sighed, patting his cheek affectionately. “It already has.”

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#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #op81 x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastric fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri one shot

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 9 months ago

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Teen Villain Alliance

Chapter 1 - Damian

Despite his proficiency in the skill, Damian hated spying on the Teen Villain Alliance.

Having appeared two years ago in alliance with Klarion Bleak, the Teen Villain Alliance, or TVA, quickly made themselves known as little more than pests, often rushing in to assist other young adult criminals or harass Justice League officials. Father wanted to investigate when they first appeared, but with Todd’s reveal and Damian himself coming to take his place as Robin, he’d been… busy.

Which allowed the TVA to flourish into a respected criminal enterprise. No vault was safe, no hero strong enough. A group had even banded together to take down Superman! And while there was no lasting damage other than some bizarre markings on the Kryptoian’s face, it was enough to prove these teenagers as a threat.

Damian, as much as it galled him, was not the first chosen to infiltrate. Martian Manhunter, shapeshifted into a meta fourteen-year-old girl, tried and was identified as a hero on sight. The Teen Titans and Young Justice got closer, actually able to talk to the villains about joining, but “it was like they could smell the hero on us,” Beast Boy had explained. “I don't know how else to explain it.”

Most likely, the TVA kept tabs on the Justice League and affiliated organizations. They needed someone fresh, someone who wasn’t a hero.

Damian had been more than willing to volunteer.

Introducing himself as Damian Al Ghul, the recently escaped Heir to the Demon Head, he’d been accepted immediately despite having approached the group mid-heist. All he had to do was extrapolate about how Grandfather’s assassins were chasing him, and the Wolf—a designation given to the members of the TVA’s inner circle—allowed him to join, but he was forced to stay with the hacker of the group while the heist commenced with no interference from a hero.

Damian had been confident. He’d gotten so far in mere minutes when a member of the Justice League, and even Drake, couldn’t get past the first few questions. He’d have the Teen Villain Alliance dismantled within the week.

Then Manson, as the Wolf had introduced herself, took out a device that transported them all to another dimension. Which was where the main base of the Alliance was. And none of his communication devices or trackers worked there.

Damian had only been able to update the Justice League a few times since his tenure as a spy began. Superman had reassured him it was fine, that there had been plenty of missions were communication was infrequent, but after a month of living in the TVA Base in the Infinite Realms, Damian hated not being able to contact his father easily. And in return, Father and Drake had taken to interrogating him for as long as possible the couple of times he was outside Headquarters.

(Phantom’s Haunt is what the TVA members called it. It was Phantom Dark’s home that he opened up to them all. Damian didn’t know how to feel about that.)

Damian had only been able to contact Father three times in his four weeks undercover, each time on a supply run… which was essentially just a grocery trip for the Haunt. The first time Damian had slipped away to the bathroom and called, Father had been… furious. He’d thought Damian’s lack of updates was on purpose. It had been five minutes before Damian could correct him.

He wished Grayson had answered during any of his updates, but he was on a mission in space and wouldn’t be back for another two weeks.

In those four months, Damian was still the newest member, and had yet to be involved in the truly illegal aspects of the organization. All the information he’d gathered purely administrative, like how Duulaman, a reincarnated pharaoh turned hacker, stole money from various billionaires and government organizations to fund their plans. He’d yet to be involved with anything serious.

He wasn’t allowed on serious missions either. He only had the supply runs to look forward to, and those only occurred once a month.

His other objective, to undermine the Teen Villain Alliance and spur a mutiny, was also going poorly. The children he surrounded himself with were fanatically loyal to the Alliance, citing Phantom and his harem as the reason they were alive today. Even those who weren’t directly rescued were loyal. One such child, a boy named Kyd Wyckyd, had confessed to turning to a life of crime due to his terrifying meta abilities and their effects on his appearance.

But the TVA took him in after the collapse of HIVE Academy. He hadn’t participated in a crime since, preferring to work with the Wolf named Jasmine who led individual and group therapy sessions for the villains. Jasmine had tried multiple times to convince her therapy sessions—more like brainwashing sessions—but Damian had stayed strong in the face of adversary.

Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be much more Damian could do. He tried to push, to get involved with the criminal aspect of the organization, but the Wolves blocked him at every turn, saying he was “too young.” That he needed “stability” and to “rely on them to keep him safe.”

Perhaps Damian oversold the danger of the League of Assassins.

For now, Damian hid in his room in Phantom’s Haunt. His castle. Even the magnificence of the compound he grew up in couldn’t compare to the headquarters. There were an infinite number of rooms—”as many as we need,” Phantom had told him—that changed based on the user’s preferences. Right now, Damian’s room looked like a cave. The Batcave, to be precise, though he didn’t allow references to his Father and legacy.

He was hiding because Manson had suggested he attend some of the classes held in the libraries—there were four libraries at the moment. Classes were taught by ghosts under Phantom’s control and weren’t mandatory, but “everyone’s worried about the lack of structure in your life.”

He tried to tell himself it was because he didn’t want to be brainwashed by Phantom’s lackeys, and that he already knew everything they were going to teach. But in truth… Damian was anxious. Attending school at the Haunt felt too permanent, too much like he was planning to stay. He hadn’t gotten the choice to attend school back in Gotham, with Father acting like he would compromise their identities around children. He wasn’t that petty.

Someone knocked on his door. “Damian? Are you inside?”

Sighing, Damian stood up and opened the door. “Dr. Fenton. Am I needed for anything?”

Dr. Daniel Fenton was another Wolf, another member of the harem Phantom had built around him, twenty years old and not an actual doctor but everyone called him that anyway. While Damian had yet to see Fenton and Phantom in the same place, Damian was keeping a detailed record of how the Wolves’ polyamourous relationship worked. Phantom and Fenton both dated Manson and Duualman, though they didn’t seem to be dating each other or Jasmine. Klarion often inserted himself into those relationships for hugs and hand-holding, but only seemed to kiss Jasmine.

“Actually, yes.” Damian’s lips parted in surprise. “I wanted to talk to you about something down in my lab. Would you join me?”

Fenton’s lab was off-limits to low level members of the TVA. He was the engineer, the creator of all their weapons of destruction. Fenton had no minions, while Manson had her thieves, Duualman had his hackers, Jasmine had her helpers, Klarion had his witches, and Phantom had his fighters.

Fenton was alone.

Isolated.

Damian agreed.

Fenton led him to the depths below the castle, past the never-used dungeon and through a secret door into a surprisingly bright and airy lab. He caught Damian looking through a window that displayed one of the Haunt’s many gardens, an impossible feat for being so far underground. “Magic castle, remember,” Fenton chided him. “Those work as portals that lead to the garden too, so it’s an easy one-way exit.”

Damian scoffed, abashed that he’d been caught so easily. From a glance, the lab was perfectly maintained, with every piece of equipment assigned to an outline meant to indicate where it belonged. As he walked further into the room, Fenton made slight adjustments to his tools, meticulously shifting them back into place. It looked more like a set than a laboratory.

But then, Damian observed Fenton. The twenty-year-old relaxed as he put his space back into order, nudging the screwdrivers and beakers back into their designated outlines. As he worked, the sleeve of his lab coat road up, revealing a glimpse of lichtenberg scars before it was hidden again.

Finally done, Fenton turned back to Damian. “My sister, Jazz, has told me that you’re not attending individual or group therapy sessions, is that correct?”

Well, that revealed a lot of information. Ignoring the fact that Fenton and Jasmine were apparently siblings, Damian replied, “I do not see a reason to attend. If this meeting is an attempt to force me–”

Fenton held his hands up in surrender. “No, I would never. Therapy doesn’t work if the person receiving it doesn’t want it. But you haven’t been attending any of your classes either, and Phantom has mentioned that you don’t hang out with the other kids. Are you settling in alright? I know the others are a few years older than you, so it might be harder for you to connect with them.”

Damian chewed on the question. While part of him was furious that someone, especially a villain like Fenton, was concerned about him and discussed him with his fellows, the other part… wasn’t. It was true; he was having difficulty connecting with the villains. Damian didn’t particularly want to, but it would make his mission easier.

He chose a neutral answer. “In the League of Assassins… I was the only child in the entire compound. Other children weren’t allowed inside, not unless their parents did something wrong. And those children…”

“Were used against their parents?” Fenton offered when he struggled to find the words.

“Precisely. It’s not in my nature to associate with children.”

Fenton nodded in understanding, stroking his chin in thought. “That does present a conundrum alright. How unfortunate; the task I needed your help with requires you to interact with at least some of the others, but if you’re that uncomfortable with the idea, then I could find someone else.”

Damian stared at the man in suspicion. “What task?” he demanded to know. If this was a way to get more information for father, he needed to know. But if this was another trap to get him into therapy…

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but I’m the only Wolf without someone working under me. Sam has her Bats, Tucker has his Flies, Jazz has her Rats, Klarion has his Strays, and Phantom has the TVA as a whole. The others have been pressuring me to create my own group, but babysitting a group of teens in a lab where anything could explode is just asking for trouble.”

Damian stepped away from the nearest device. Fenton continued, “However, I think a group dedicated to investigation would work much better. Here in the Infinite Realms, we’re very isolated from the human world, so my research on competing inventors is always lacking. Tuck and Sam help, but Tucker has his own hacking projects, and Sam targets financially viable targets instead of labs.”

“You want me to be a member of your new… group?” Damian read in between the lines of what Fenton was saying. Surely Father would be proud of him for gaining information about Fenton’s inventions and targets—

“I want you to lead the group.”

His glare dropped right off his face in shock. “Lead?” he whispered.

“That’s right,” Daniel agreed. “It’s not conventional and I barely got the others to agree, but Damian, you’re one of the best trained villains to ever join the TVA. Yeah, you’re really young, but you are serious and professional. To be honest, most of the kids we take in don’t take our work seriously. It’s not a bad thing, but I need a leader who is willing to keep their group in line. Infiltration and information gathering can be very dangerous, and I need someone who can keep the team safe.”

Daniel trusted him enough for that? Father didn’t trust him enough to be his partner; honestly, Father didn’t even trust him enough to introduce Damian to the world as his son! Perhaps he was aggressive towards the interlopers in his home, but he wasn’t going to stab a civilian!

And while Damian didn’t understand why Daniel was so cautious around what amounted to breaking and entering, he wanted Damian to lead. He trusted Damian for that.

And Damian was going to take back whatever information Fenton revealed back to his father, like a hunting dog to its master.

Daniel continued, “Of course, this is still a few months off from being necessary. But that should give you plenty of time to attend some classes to prepare you more! One on leadership skills, one on modern technology, one on basic magic and wards, maybe a refresher on hacking… Knowing you, you’ll test out of them in a few weeks, but the main point is to find other people to join our team. I’m looking for four other team members, and while I am looking for certain traits and skills, it's up to you to decide who you want on the team.” Daniel placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “So, what do you think?”

He’d betray Daniel by saying yes. He’d betray Father by saying no.

He made his choice.

Damian looked up at Daniel, determination set into his face. “I won’t let you down.”

Daniel smiled. “I know you won’t. You couldn’t if you tried.”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #ghost prince danny fenton #supervillain danny fenton #damian wayne is not robin #c: danny fenton #c: damian wayne #damian al ghul #Jazz: ok so this kid is really insecure but also really prideful so you can't ever seem like you're looking down on him #Danny: *aggressively taking notes so he can help this kid makes some friends and find a purpose that motivates him*#teen villain alliance

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targaryenluvs · 11 months ago

Note

Can you make a fic with a dark coriolanus x reader

Post Lucy running away where he stays a peace keeper for some time and he helped reader avoid being picked for the games and he abuses his power as peace keeper against reader whom he helped and holds it over her head (she has no family but her friends are like family) and he does all types of fucked up stuff to her sexually and he fetishizes her for being a woc (reader is a woman of color) and he fetishizes her skin or something and he keeps saying all creepy stuff and he then marries her (after convincing her no one would want her after him) and parades her around and shows off to capitol ppl who also fetishize her and she becomes basically his property with a creepy nickname and you pick the ending

BROWN JEWEL

pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!poc!reader

summary: he was a lifeline and you’d grabbed on in hopes to avoid the reaping, but you were coriolanus’ obsession and he was not going to let you go.

warnings: obsession, abuse of power, nc touching, threats, forced marriage, fetishisation of skin color?? non-con (p in v), public sex, pregnancy, forced marriage, jealousy of infants? kisses, kinda stockholm/reader gives in

wordcount: 3.1k

a/n: audibly gasped reading this rq (i did change it around a bit since some of it i was unsure of how to write and if i felt comfy doing it) i went off track for sure

this was your last year for being involved with the reaping.

just tomorrow then you'd be in the clear for the rest of your life.

you had friends who relied on you, and their families which were practically your own. you’d been raised with them after your parents passed and you owed them your life. you were an amazing hunter and your game kept them going. you were skilled with hunting, medicine, literate because of your best friends mother. you helped them all in so many ways and you knew they needed you.

through your older years, you began to realise you weren’t exactly the same as your friends. their light skin and light eyes in contrast to your darker tones were always a reminder of your unshared bloodline. yet they never treated you any differently.

you had to live for them.

so it was how you ended up in the tree line by the peacekeepers barracks. hoping to bribe one into pulling your name from the bowl before it was placed infront of the justice building. what you didn’t expect was for a soldier to find you first.

“what’re you doing here?” he spoke from behind you as you stumbled to get up. “i... i wanted to talk to someone, to try and uhm, get them to do something for me.” he exuded confidence with his chin in the air and his grip on his gun. he obviously thought he was better than you. “what do you want me to do for you?” you sighed, “i was hoping, to get my name taken out of the reaping bowl.” he tilted his head, a smirk on his face and you wanted to peel your skin off with the way he was looking at you.

“come closer.” and you did, stepping into the moonlight. he found you to be gorgeous, glowing. “i’ll do it.” your eyes widened as you smiled, “thank you!” and he took a step closer to you, “but what will i get in return?”

and that’s when you should’ve run for the hills.

at the reaping ceremony, he coincidentally placed himself right next to your row. his stares were harsh on your back. your hands were sweating and you couldn’t think straight until that name was called, and it wasn’t yours.

“we’re safe.” your friend whispered into your ear as you smiled at her, “yeah, we are.” but for some reason you weren’t convinced. the peacekeeper was on you like a shadow ever since the day before. on the walk home he was following you and you knew it, but if you confronted him you had no clue what he’d do to you. so you felt it best to keep your head down, and get home. you didn’t expect for him to barge his way in.

“what’re you doing?” your voice was shaky and you could feel the perspiration on you, for someone reason this man made your body go haywire and you wanted to leave. “why? can’t i come see the pretty girl i saved?” your head was facing downwards as you began to mumble, “my names only in eight times, my odds were low anyways. a lot of people took tessera.” you heard him click his tongue, tutting and shaking his head in disagreement, “seven.”

he was right infront of you now, and as he bent down to whisper in your ear, you froze up, “i don’t do things for free y/n. when i want something from you, and i do, i will come to collect.” he held your face in his hand as you asked, “what’s your name?” he smiled, “coriolanus, but you can call me corio.” and he held you to it.

every time you saw him he’d be unbelievably smug.

even your friends noticed, “he keeps staring at you, that peacekeeper.” you were having a night out, your senses flooded with music and laughter. but not too far away was coriolanus, downing his beer. you shifted around before slyly looking his way. “it’s probably nothing. you know how these peacekeepers are. i think i’m going to head home.” you kissed her cheek before making your way out and to your home.

you were only a few minutes away when you took notice of the shadow behind you, lurking. “y/n.” you stopped in your tracks and turned his way. “corio.” he grinned at the nickname you used. his expression should've warned you, his words rung through your mind.

an intoxicated man was a dangerous one.

"when i want something from you, and i do, i will come to collect."

corio held you against the shabby wall as his hands held you in place. your pants swamped at your ankles as he rutted into you harshly. “stay quiet for me yeah?” your hands shoved at his chest but it seemed to be pointless.

“please, please corio not here.” coriolanus couldn’t bring himself to listen to you, and he sure as hell didn’t care if someone saw. what were they going to do? you were his, you needed to realise that. the quicker you did the easier it would be for you. your cries and protests went in one ear and out the other, “shh, i’ve got you. don’t worry.” he cooed, ignoring your pleas.

you felt humiliated, treated like trash. taken in an alleyway like a whore, as coriolanus continued on. your legs felt like jelly and your weight rested on the wall behind. his hands came up to lower your shirt, your breasts spilling out. “fuck, you’re made for me. all mine.” he groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

“come for me baby. come on.” you didn’t want to, you wanted to run away from him but your breath was laboured as your head lolled back. but even with that he wasn’t done with you. he wanted more. he wanted all of you and he wouldn’t stop until he’d had enough. you weren’t sure if he’d ever get his fill.

your cheeks burned as you walked back to your home, cum-stained panties and shame filling you to the brim. acquaintances walked past, you smiled and waved with fake kindness. your feet dragged along, your legs shaky and hands trembling. you wanted to drag the walk out as long as possible.

coriolanus could tell, but he couldn’t do anything yet. so he grit his teeth and walked with determination.

he’d punish you later.

and it was all you knew. almost every night corio crawled into your home, took you all over the house till dawn. and in return you were able to provide your family with everything they could want.

dana has a cold?

the medicine was at the front door hours later.

peter hurt himself at the mines?

a first aid kit was ready to be picked up by noon.

not a single person around you was hungry, sick or uncared for. all thanks to coriolanus. your friends were able to infer where all your resources came from, but you’d never asked for their aid.

you just wanted to help them, in any way you could.

what you didn’t anticipate was coriolanus in your home, tossing your nicest clothes into a suitcase. the jewellery he’d bought, shoes etc. “what’s going on? why are you packing my things?” he didn’t respond, he just kept packing, moving around the room and throwing in things he deemed important.

“we’re leaving, back to the capitol. you’re coming with me, now help me pack.” you grabbed his wrist in a moment of anger, forgetting your place. “let. go. now.” he demanded as you retracted your hand, “i’m sorry. but, you need to talk to me. i’m not going to the capitol corio, this is my home.” you should’ve known he was going to hate your words.

he grabbed your wrists, fingers digging in as you cried out in pain. “you are coming with me, otherwise i am more than happy to hurt you. all the supplies for your friends? gone. you know i won’t hesitate to hurt them. so if you want them to be taken care of, you’ll listen to me. now pack your things and shut up.” he spit out as you pulled away from him.

you didn’t even get to say goodbye.

the capitol scared you to no extent. the prying eyes, the excessive, almost wasteful, wealth and resources. you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. the people of panem viewed you to be a rare phenomenon. as if darker skin was unattainable. it was nothing like district 12, and you knew you’d never fully fit in. but corio wouldn’t let that be.

coriolanus thrived under dr gaul. overtime he’d been provided with an apartment and inheritance courtesy of the plinths and he was happy to indulge his sweet girl with whatever she could wish for.

the most expensive silks, finest jewels. you felt like a little porcelain doll, with multiple faces. you were bound to crack.

by the time coriolanus snow rose to be the president of panem, all the fight in your body was a distant memory, a shell of your former self. "you have everything you could ever wish for," according to your husband, "but you still think of them." his words were filled with disdain but held an ounce of truth.

your heart yearned for home. for peters terrible cooking. for dana’s flower crowns. nights out with your friends singing your heart out before sneaking out to the lake a certain covey had let slip on. a simple life.

but it all felt to be out of your grasp, far in the back of your mind.

presidential campaigns, parties, shopping, and super rich kids with nothing but fake friends. it was all your new normal. the residents of panem tolerated you for being the first lady of panem, admired you for your looks, and despised you for your background.

you’d never felt more alone.

you found solace in your children. ciron, your baby boy. only five years old but undeniably bright. he was ahead of most children his age in studies, able to remember so much in such a small mind. he was the spitting image of coriolanus. the old coriolanus. curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes. but his kindness, his care for others? that was all his mother. he was the perfect mix, and a huge mommy’s boy. the second he learned something knew he rambled on about it, only to you. he loved to play with your hair, curling it around his fingers.

“now we match mommy!” he smiled as you picked him up, resting him on your hip. “now i’m almost as pretty as you baby.” you teased as you attacked him with kisses on his face. he squirmed in your arms, small hands coming to cover his face. the noise seemed to wake caroline, her squeals and cries echoing through the home.

“shh, we have to be quiet okay?” ciron nodded as the two of you made your way to her nursery. it was caroline’s first birthday today, and coriolanus had spared no expense on your account. the celebration was to be held at your home, filled with people who couldn’t care less. but you just wanted to give her what you never had. a party at the presidents house was rare, and a lot of the hadn’t seen you in a while.

caroline was all you. darker skin than ciron, olive like. brown eyes and dark hair.

during your pregnancy with ciron, coriolanus showed you off to the people. you were regularly seen out and about, at parties, shopping, walking etc. coriolanus took any opportunity to parade you about to the people of panem. something out of their reach but so sweet, so beautiful. you despised it, being seen as nothing more than his property.

“she’s a fine girl you have coriolanus.” grandma’am spoke as she pinched your cheeks, “just have to take the district out of her.” as if you were an animal to be dissected.

“are there any more of her type?” the man joked as coriolanus’s hand tightened on your waist.

you’d always loved yourself, your hair, your skin color, your body. but it all seemed to be under coriolanus’s ownership the second you’d allowed him to take you to the captiol. no one cared about you. no one bothered to help. they just admired and touched when they could.

so you’d plead with him, begging him to let you rest for the remainder of your pregnancy. he surprisingly agreed, letting you confine yourself to your shared room.

and with cirons birth, you felt hope. his wide eyes, consuming all he could with his sight, his tiny fingers wrapping around your finger. your heart swelled with joy at his face, your saving grace.

coriolanus wanted to pry him from your fingers. for the next few weeks your attention was purely on the boy and coriolanus began to feel neglected. he was already traumatised from his own mothers passing, his sister taking her life. with the announcement of your own pregnancy the thoughts poured in.

would the baby take you too?

would he be forced to listen to your screams?

would he have to raise the baby he despised?

he hadn’t even met your child yet and he'd already made his mind up. the baby was no good, an heir was needed of course but at the cost of his wife? would he pay the price?

your screams of agony and pain clawed at his throat. he felt sick, bile rising as he forced it down. coriolanus would not be seen as weak. but he couldn’t help himself, your hands clutched onto his as a lifeline. your pleas for aid, and coriolanus could do nothing. helpless.

the finest doctors in panem, machinery and medicine yet it all seemed useless.

to you it was worth it, the second you held him in your arms. all the pain in the world if it meant you’d have him as the outcome. one of the nurses placed a pair of scissors in his hands, urging him to cut the cord as coriolanus masked his disgust.

snip!

tigris cooed over the baby as lethargy hung over you like a cloud. “isn’t he the sweetest coriolanus?” all he managed was a nod, his focus on you.

his strong wife, who’d given way to new life. your eyes were fluttering close as you murmured, “ciron.” the doctors and nurses gleefully agreed, “what a fine name!” the head doctor announced as he held him in his arms, a nurse taking him away to be cleaned.

and after all that, you were pregnant once more. another child for the happy family but another nuisance in his eyes between yourself and him.

all you ever cared about was the kids.

“has caroline eaten?”

“is ciron awake?”

“is his teacher here yet?”

“coriolanus, i think we need to take ciron shopping again. he’s growing so quickly!” he knew he should’ve been happy. but all he wanted was for you to be his again. you were always too tired for him, already asleep with ciron by your side, taking his place.

or you were breastfeeding caroline, meaning that he was sure he wasn’t going to get to feel you up that night. too sore, too tired, not in the mood. he couldn’t catch a break.

you’d decided to have caroline and ciron match. baby blue, how sweet!

it’d only been about an hour in and you’d had enough. these people never really moved on. the same comments about how special you were, how lucky you were. compliments stuffed down your throat you were sure you’d gag.

you grounded yourself with caroline, clutching onto her as coriolanus made the rounds. “anna!” you shouted out to one of your servers. “yes, mrs snow?” you refrained from rolling your eyes at the last name, “bring the cake out, now please.” she wasn’t sure, “mr snow said-” you smiled at her, “caroline’s getting fussy, better if we blow the candles out now so i can feed her and get her to bed.” she scurried away to get everything in order as coriolanus found you.

“sweetheart. you can’t hide the birthday girl at her party.” you chuckled, “i know, i know. she’s getting tired, we’re going to have to get the candles out early. cirons already sleepy too, he worked really hard today. i’m so proud of him.” you beamed as coriolanus took a sip from his glass, “oh did he?” he sneered. you were about to reply but the cake being carried out took your attention. “look sweetie! it’s your cake!” caroline lifted her head from your shoulder as you pointed at it.

“come on corio.” he downed his drink before following along. maybe if he was nice you’d fuck him tonight.

the four of you were a picture perfect family, cameras shuttered as everyone sang for caroline. she rested on your side as ciron stood in front of coriolanus, his hands resting on his sons shoulders. a smile plastered on his face. “happy birthday to you!” you bent down with caroline to blow the candles out as everyone cheered.

for once, you felt happy.

you sat infront of caroline’s crib, rocking it side to side. it was around 12 now, the party packed up, ciron in bed sleeping soundly, and coriolanus in his study. it’d been a while since you and coriolanus had been together. your pregnancy with caroline was risky according to doctors and you were told to take it easy. it’d been at least two months since his last time with you, and god he needed release.

once you figured she was asleep you made your way to corios study. “corio? you busy?” you peaked your head through the door to find corio writing away. “come in.” you closed the door behind you as he rolled back in his seat, patting his lap as you plopped down.

“you want something?” you rested your head in the crook of neck, roses infiltrating your senses. “m’ tired, wanna sleep with you.” coriolanus was taken aback for once, in his eyes you’d deprived him of your presence for so long and here you were wanting for him. coriolanus would have to settle for now. he caressed your cheek, “alright, come on.” his arm lifted your legs and you interlaced your fingers behind his neck.

over your time with coriolanus you’d learned to like things about him, since there was no point in you hating him anymore. his voice in the night, whispering to you. his soft hands washing your hair. when he was relaxed, the two of you would bask in eachothers presence, reading silently. baths together, his hands raking through your hair, trailing over your body with care. and as the two of you slept together, in a tight embrace, coriolanus felt at ease.

his brown jewel, all to himself.

#hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #yandere coriolanus snow

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i-am-lifeform24 · 4 months ago

Text

Curated Companions: Part 4

--------------🔞Masterlist🔞Part 1🔞Part 2🔞Part 3🔞---------------

----------[ Aespa Winter - @sinswithpleasure ]----------

When you turn away for the umpteenth time, Winter’s the one pulling your gaze back to her with her fingers on your chin.

“You can’t look away, remember?”

You remember the rule she set, of course you do, but it’s not that you want to—it’s that you have to. You’re about to explode under Winter’s delicate touch—if you don’t look away, you might actually embarrass yourself in front of the prettiest girl you’ve ever met. It’s even worse that she’s calling you with a cute pet name—that’s turning you on so much more.

“Mm-mmh, no more looking away, honey…”

It’s insane how the photos on the website do not do justice to how pretty Winter is in real life. You’ve been a blushing, stuttering mess ever since you met her thirty minutes ago, and Winter’s been using it as a means to toy with you the entire time. She was clothed then, and now that she’s nude in front of you, her creamy skin fully exposed for your hungry eyes to feast on now instead of the little peeks you had to take on the way to this love hotel you’re in now, you’re just so painfully awestruck, awkward, and shy in front of the sex goddess that is Winter. The goddess literally has you in the palm of her hand—her thin, dainty fingers wrap around your thick, veiny length, and she’s giving you soft, slow strokes from base to tip, her thumb swiping over your sensitive slit and spreading your dribbling precum all over the tip.

“Yah~, honey, keep looking at me. Don’t I look pretty?” Winter swipes her hair behind her neck, and once again you’re greeted with a glimpse of her petite breasts, her cute brown nipples taut with arousal. You’re lustfully staring at her body now, nodding like a fucking loser, but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s giggling, totally amused by your behavior.

“Oh, you’re getting bigger… cuuuute~. Am I really that pretty? So pretty you’re about to cum?”

Yes, you want to say, yes, you look so pretty that I’m going to explode, but you don’t trust yourself to be able to even speak, let alone eloquently. Winter’s too much—she’s draped over the bed, lying on her side as she puts her body on display for you. The sun’s streaming in through the white blinds next to the both of you, bathing her skin in a heavenly glow. You’re just mutely staring now, eyes hungrily raking across her slender arms, her pretty collarbones, along the sultry curve of her waist and hips, down her long, smooth legs. You might be going insane in every sense of the word—there’s no way you’re about to fuck this goddess, and yet here she is, stroking your cock so fluidly with earnest effort and genuine skill. Winter’s just grinning at how weak you are for her, and it grows even wider when she lets go of you to move between your legs. You’re instinctively spreading them to make space, and she lays herself down right between them on her tummy. She winks at you when she strokes your cock again, having let go to move herself to your disappointment earlier, and you’re gasping at the new position she takes. She’s just resting leisurely on her front, her feet up in the air as she supports herself on her elbows. You’re staring at the curve of her ass now, and you can’t believe she’s just, perfect, because you’re so fucking attracted to her and that stupidly amazing body and stupidly amazing ass and—

Smooch.

The loud, shaky moan that leaves your lips has you cringing in embarrassment. Winter’s laughing now, her mirthful eyes meeting yours. You’re so ashamed—just one soft kiss right on the tip of your cock and you’re melting in real time in front of her. You move to hide your face, but before you can, Winter’s kissing you on your cock again, this time on the underside of your shaft, then another one on the side, and another on the opposite side. “It’s fine, honey,” she says, “That turned me on so much~.” The goddess between your legs rubs your hot, twitching length on her cheek as she speaks, staining her skin with your precum. Now, you’re not looking away any more. “I can’t wait to hear you moan when you cum.”

Winter’s dirty talk has your mind spiraling into insanity once more. Your body reacts instantly—your cock twitches, and a dribble of cum leaks from the tip onto her cheek, drawing a gasp from your partner. You’re horrified at first, but when Winter’s eyes darken tenfold with lust as she collects your cum with her fingers and pushes them into her mouth, the arousal that burns within you erodes any shame you had.

“So you do think I’m that pretty~.” Winter’s voice grows deeper with lust, and she’s licking you from base to tip now, ending with kisses all around the crown of your shaft every time. It doesn’t take long before she’s licking you all over the tip, her hands stroking your cock once more. White precum pulses out of your slit with every lick against your sensitive underside, and Winter’s collecting it on her tongue, her eyes locked on yours before she spits it all back onto your cock as lube, stroking it just that little harder.

“Does it feel good, honey?”

“Y-Yes, it… it’s so good…”

You’ve finally managed to find your words, and Winter’s giggling now, amused at your response. She throws you another glance, and the grin on her face grows wider.

“Well, it’s about to feel even better.”

Before you can even process Winter’s reply, a wet warmth envelops your cock—Winter’s lips wrap around your shaft, and she’s sinking her head down on you to take you into her mouth. She’s softly caressing your balls now as she begins to blow you, and you begin to realize why the escort site marketed her as a “Blow Job Queen”—she’s fucking good.

“Oh, f—... Winter, please… I…”

Your partner only grins as she continues to pleasure you. She pulls you out of her mouth to spit on your cock, spreading it all over your length with slow strokes. Winter looks up at you with that sultry smile of hers, and then she’s taking you back into her mouth. The slick sounds of her blowjob mix with your moans and her soft hums, and you’re already feeling yourself getting close again, your hips bucking a bit whenever she tongues the sensitive underside of your cock.

“Close again, honey?”

“Y-Yes, I… I’m c-close.” Shaky breaths escape your lips as Winter begins to apply a soft suction as she bobs her head along your length, and you’re groaning softly, low rumbles deep in your throat as you squeeze the sheets between your fingers, your senses on overdrive. You’re feeling hot, too hot, and you’re just so needy for Winter, so desperate to cum for her.

“Hehe, so cuuuute~. Cum well for me, then. Shoot it all in my mouth, okay?”

You don’t even get to respond—Winter’s earnestly blowing you now, the wet sounds of her sucking on your cock and licking the length when she rests for air filling the room. The moans you release are music to her ears; she can feel you getting bigger, wetter, twitchier, and it’s only a matter of time before you—

“Fuck, Winter I’m—!”

There’s no need to finish the sentence—you finish in her mouth before that happens. You’re shuddering from the pleasure when bursts of cum fill Winter’s mouth, and in between flashes of white, you catch glimpses of your cum leaking and overflowing from her mouth as you buck your hips, cock twitching with every spurt. Your personal goddess is a champ though—she tries her best to hold as much of it in her mouth as she can, but you’re definitely too much for her. You’re a mess and so is she, with cum and spit running down her chin and leaking down your balls, but you don’t care at all right now, with how good it all feels.

Eventually, you come down from your high, and you’re panting in exhaustion watching Winter wipe her mouth. She has a satisfied grin on her face, and she crawls up to you, opening her mouth to show you your own load. She plays around with it with her tongue before you watch her close her mouth, her throat slightly shifting as she swallows your cum, and she completes the erotic display by showing you her empty mouth now, the grin never leaving her face.

“You’re de~licious, honey.

Winter runs a finger down your chest, and she tilts her head slightly, a coy smile displayed across her angelic features now.

“Do you need some time, or…

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

With the way your cock flares to life, you swear you might be able to go on with Winter until the end of time.

-------------[ ITZY Ryujin - @kooyabooya ]--------------

She’s the one contact on your phone that shouldn’t be there.

The one person that you wouldn’t reach out to given the gravity of the present situation at hand. You shouldn’t even be in touch with her, but nothing is stopping you in your mind and still, it just seems like all options are exhausted to the point where anything really goes.

You should be back at your hotel room, recuperating after the events of tonight.

But you’re not.

Instead, most people will bat their eyes at you, sitting alone at a bar with a hand raised for another drink to add on the tab. The bartender doesn’t bother to ask how many drinks has it been since you’ve walked in, sliding in another full cup of hard whiskey to replace the empty one that was just downed. That slow heat with a tinge of bitterness sliding down your throat would be refreshing in one case, but on the other hand, it was to drown out the rising feeling within you of how shitty things have been for the past few days? Weeks? Months?

It’s been all downhill since that woman waltzed into your life completely out of nowhere. Feeding into your temptations of a desirable satisfaction that she could only give and–

When the vibrate rumbles your phone across the aged wood, breaking up the sound of the jukebox behind you playing some oldie from the 70s or 80s, something that your parents liked listening to a lot when you were growing up.

Normally, you’d act surprised, but the message and its sender uncovers itself after being hidden away since the last time you and her got together. I still have your location. She texts, bonus points for her to also reach out on your secondary phone, and not the official one.

Imperatively, you’d play it safe and send her the single worded reply, just to be safe. Though the weight of her words over the screen would say otherwise. You text back. Where do I come to pick you up?

There’s a plaza with a small park across from it. Not too far, a five minute drive from where I’m looking at.

Okay. You got it.

You need to be sure.

About what?

You know what. Don’t play dumb.

I’m not.

Ten minutes.

The way that she tells you the time frame sends a small rumble in your stomach. Could be the alcohol for all you know, but recalling the other times that you were behind by a mere minute or two, came to be detrimental for what follows.

Another quick glance to the bartender with a single finger raised up next to the cup, and he already knows. The tip handed to them was also a cool bonus before heading out into the cold of the late night.

–

There aren’t any surrounding lights illuminating the walkways around the park. What only serves best in terms of vision were the light poles glowing around the perimeter to the street when you’re strolling along the walkway, seeing a lone figure standing in front of what appears to be the entryway into the shrouded darkness. No one would be out this late, but there was also no doubt in your mind that it was the same person that you wanted to see. No, needed to see.

Oversized coat. Warm and comfy. Expensive, actually. She could honestly pass as another girl that caught your eye if there was no path crossed prior to this. Turning to your direction, with a sweep of her hair, parting it back over her shoulder while her other hand is neatly in her pocket still, eyelids batting in the low glow, gazing with a glint that makes you think twice for a slight second; then again, you’ve got nothing else better to do - it’s why you called her or she called you. Either way, whoever initiated first now has the other together.

“Were you alone?” she asks, stepping closer into your space, minimizing the distance down the single-digits.

“I’m telling you, it’s just me. Me, my driver Samson, and not anyone on my security detail.” you respond, hands once in your pockets before pulling them out to signify that there was nothing in or on you. “Don’t be so worried. I gave you every assurance that–”

“I just want to make sure that you’re a thousand percent safe.” she adds on, shrugging her shoulders before rolling them back in a relaxed state, letting out this sigh of relief when you also showed her that there was no one behind you or her, let alone have a microphone attached to your body somewhere for someone to listen to the conversation. “You’re really risking everything to meet me like this?”

“Do you want to talk out here? Or can we go back to your hotel?”

“Are you sure that’s–”

“Ryujin.” you say, hand to her shoulder in hopes of keeping her quiet, “let's just go.”

–

Being caught.

The thrill in that is one thing, but keeping it a secret to the entire world was also a challenge. Not to mention that Ryujin was your go-to person to relieve stress. Though, you and her see it in a different scope; one that would blow both of your positions out of the water if a story broke out between the two of you.

“Baby,” she coos, trudging over behind your back, hands snaking around your muscled waist while tending a glass of water, the makeshift tray of used cigarettes on the table next to it. “You’ve been pacing for a few minutes now. It’s concerning me.”

“What’s there to be concerned about for your sake, hmm?” you ask her, puffing out a small cloud of smoke before turning to her. She’s in your dress shirt, the simple tie loosely wrapped around her neck with nothing underneath - she looks gorgeous; and you’re cursing at yourself for not finding her sooner, because the reality of it is, it’s just a really poor scenario of ‘right person, wrong place or wrong time.’ A little disheartening, but you’ll raise a glass to that sometime later.

“What if,” Ryujin starts to ask, unwilling to meet your eyes while her hands laze around your neck. “What if you do lose everything? Is that something that you’ll be okay to tell yourself once all of this is over?”

“By once, you meant because it is over.”

She gives you this look of concern, sympathetic, lending her eyes and ears for you to vent out all of your frustrations; because that’s the least that she could do. Sure, she’s only in your arms because she was willing to listen to everything you’ve told her for months now, despite being a secret to the rest of the world. “What are you talking about? What do you mean over?”

“I mean that I’ve lost everything. From the election, to the team, my inner circle, everyone that’s involved from the campaign, all at the cost of winning.”

“What about–”

“God, Ryujin. Look at us.” you sigh out of frustration, sitting down while your hands slide down to the swell of her ass. “You’re a glorified prostitute benefiting off of my pockets as my way of repaying and–”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“What?”

“We can make this work,” she tells you, both hands holding your face. Her gaze is soft, and dangerously loving. “You’ve made it this far because of the things you realized what needs to be done, and I admire that from you.”

“People will find out about us sooner or later,” you say, feeling her fingers gripping bits of your hair while you’re looking up at her, “I- we shouldn’t be scared, but that's the inevitablity and I don’t want you to be thrust into the spotlight because of my mistake.”

“You know what you signed up for.” she deadpans.

“What are you talking about?”

The next thing that comes out of her mouth leaves you in a state of panic:

“I’m pregnant.”

You can’t respond to the news - not because it’s sudden, but how this changes everything. “Ryujin–” you try to say, when a finger is pressed against your lips. She slides off the loose shirt draped across her shoulders, leaving only skin and the single necktie around her neck.

Suddenly,

You’re reminded of how you got addicted to feeding Ryujin’s line of sex work. How pent up she got when you’re treating her for some food and drinks, replaced with lines of neediness when you’re fucking her rough one meet, slow on the other - watch her take your cock so well until cumming inside her or on her face seems more than enough to keep a frame of mind off of certain things. Her body is amazing, hypnotized right off the bat when she’s straddling you on the chair, lazy hands and wrists nestling the crook of your neck; how her damp pussy is hovering over your hardening cock. And you’ve already sunk a load into her hot cunt, but she knows that you’re gonna give her another; maybe this time in her ass or in her mouth if she’s nice enough to beg.

Imagine the optics: how scandalous this story might be if this broke out in every news media outlet possible.

The damage would be catastrophic while you’re thinking about it, but until then–

“Please, fuck me. Mr. President.”

An announcement will be drafted up to address this affair when the proper time comes.

-------[ (G)-IDLE Shuhua - @digipigichopshop ]--------

Prismatic rays dance across the breadth of your wrist, the murky brown of liquid courage paired to a bonfire’s smokiness. The mere touch of the glass to your lips scorches your nostrils - each sip, a smoking powder fuse that sparks its way down your gullet. The sensation perfectly summarizes the past 72 hours - apologies tossed around like bottles of cheap whisky, visceral emotions hastily cobbled together and flung at the nearest organic surface, narratives threads thrown like a fire blanket over a scorching inferno. Nobody can get their story straight. Good or bad, it stings all the same.

It all feels so surreal.

A knock at the door has you shotgun the last bit in your glass before sauntering your way over. You’re not walking nor thinking straight, but in your eyes, first impressions are already out the window. Any semblance of inhibition dulled by ketone breath and clouded judgment

Yet as you open the door, you subconsciously pull yourself together.

Divinity has no place in the realm of man. Yet there she is, leaning against the door frame. She’s the closest thing to a goddess you could get for the low, low price of what’s in your bank account. Her face is the kind you’d dream immortalized on a marble bust, every detail of every feature warranting a painstaking recreation on silk tapestry and hung in the emperor’s antechamber. Her pearlescent features glint underneath the dim hallway lights, the way the light bounces off her porcelain skin in a radiant glow that shrouds her figure. Your eyes begin to wander down to her exposed cleavage courtesy of her low cut blank tank top, but your gaze darts back to meet hers when the first words escape her lips.

“Hi there.”

You’re instantly hooked. Her sultry tone’s laced with a tint of nightshade as it pierces through your heart like a dagger, poisoned thoughts taking root in the abundance of your headspace. You’re silently begging her to drive that blade of hers deeper in, to fill your ears with her voice, and your heart with hers.

Pull yourself together! You chide yourself.

“Are you Mr. Sung?”

You tear yourself away from your lofty delusions to answer that simple question.

“Mmm…!”

And even that you couldn’t do properly.

She giggles.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“My name is Shuhua. You requested my agency’s services and they’ve sent me. May I come in?”

You nod vigorously, and she casually walks past you into the room.

She seems to find your blabber amusing.

As you turn to close the door, you’re greeted by a view of Shuhua’s plump assets swaying under the fabric of her loose cargo pants. The way she dresses feels… off. You expected some combination of raunchy office attire - A practically see-through white office shirt that attempts to conceal a pastel pink lacy bralette underneath, accompanied with a pencil skirt so thin you’d cut yourself running your fingers along it’s hem. Or perhaps a beach wardrobe - a baby blue bikini hidden under an oversized tropical short and ragged torn jean shorts - the perfect middle ground between swimsuit model and homeless bum.

Yet, she makes every bit of her simple outfit work. Functional, yet eye-catching. Sexy, yet modest.

“Hey, are you gonna finish this?” Shuhua playfully asks, holding your half-finished bottle of whisky by the neck.

“Go ahead.” You expect her to daintily pour herself a glass and gently sip on her lukewarm beverage. Instead, Shuhua brings the whole bottle to her lips, tosses her head back and takes a deep swig. A bead of stray golden dew trails down her cheek, but Shuhua swipes it away as she tucks aside the mess of jet black hair from her previous stunt. Despite it all, her expression remains unfazed.

No notions of innocence to uphold.

No effeminate ideals to conform to.

No inhibitions.

She’s all or nothing - You’re all in with a pair of threes. There’s nothing you could ever possibly do that could even come close to approaching the sheer amount of charisma she possesses.

“You know, if you wanted a striptease you could’ve left the agency a note beforehand. At least I would have worn something better suited for the occasion.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense”

“None taken.” She replies, taking a second mouthful from the bottle. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d take the lead.” You say, eyes fixated on the alcohol in the bottle as Shuhua swirls it in her hand. There’s a short pause as you hear the gears turning in her head.

You’re sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering what Shuhua has in mind when she shoots you a question out of nowhere.

“Ever kissed a girl before?”

You nod.

“Cool. Ever sucked dick before?”

You frantically shake your head, much to Shuhua’s amusement. She lets out a loud chuckle, slowly making her way over to where you’re seated.

“Eh, I didn’t think it would be that easy. Just try not to spit anything out.”

You’re simply perplexed by that last statement, fully expecting Shuhua to be packing a 12-inch strap-on somewhere in those baggy cargo pants of hers, but instead, she takes a deep swig from the whisky bottle before leaving it at the foot of the bed. Within moments, Shuhua has you straddled, your face mere inches away from her. An overwhelming earthy scent of burnt oak tangles with the crisp, floral notes of her body lotion, a barrage of sweet jasmine and scorched bitters that assaults your senses and sends alarm bells ringing.

This feels so wrong.

Shuhua grabs your wrists, familiarizing your hands with the abrasive fabric of her top as she leans in closer. You close your eyes, throwing yourself wholly into Shuhua’s hands as her lips press against yours in an appeal for entry. You accept, and embrace the kiss as whisky trickles from her mouth into yours, a radiant warmth that washes over your throat and gums. Shuhua pulls away, and just as quickly as the heat comes, it leaves, the last remnants a trail of saliva quickly cut by a simple swipe of her hand. She swallows, and you swallow in kind, staring at the roaring flame manifest as it ruffles its hair. She places a hand behind your neck, lazily swiping her thumb against your jawline as she gazes back into your eyes.

“Good job. You can follow instructions. Time for something a little more intense.”

-----------[ H1-KEY Yel - @mechaknight-98 ]-----------

Yel was in despair. She was set to attend a ball but needed a plus-one, and all her group mates had bailed on her one by one, citing other responsibilities. But Rina, being the best big sister Yel could ask for, gave her a link to a much-needed companionship site. Yel was excited; this was her second high-ticket client after Rina. Since Rina recommended her, Yel figured this was a slam dunk.

Frantic, Yel entered the site and selected a man who went by Theo. They arranged to meet at a nearby café the next morning. Theo would be eating scrambled eggs and French toast.

Two Days Earlier

“Yo, Dio, I know you said you were heading to Jeju next weekend, but I'm cashing in that favor,” my friend Sakura informed me. I rolled my eyes and asked, “Okay, what's the situation?”

“My friend needs a date to a fashion ball, and I can't go, but I told her you can. She wants to meet in two days at that café down the street.”

I sighed and responded, “Okay, I'll be there. Tell her I'll be having French toast and scrambled eggs.”

Back to the Present Day

You arrive, order your food, and wait. You wonder what this client will look like, cursing that your company hasn't instituted mandatory pictures for all accounts. I get in a little after you but still early. I order my food and wait patiently. Yel arrives, looking around Zulu Café until her eyes meet mine. She notices my food and sits across from me. I am shocked by how stunning she is. Her smile is as flawless as her lovely tanned skin, while I just look like a potato. Yel smiles at me, and her mind is put at ease.

“Oh good, he's a normal guy. Tall, easy on the eyes… I can make this work,” Yel thinks to herself.

"Theo, right?" Yel asks me. Due to her accent, I assume she meant to say my nickname Dio, so I nod, and she sits down with me. I reach out my hand, and as Yel shakes it, I joke that she is much too pretty to be going with a guy like me.

Yel smiles, thinking, "Oh great, he doesn't take himself too seriously." Her physical reply is a bellowing laugh that causes her hair to bounce up and down. We eat and chat.

While this is going on, Kazuha walks in, sees you eating French toast and eggs while sitting by yourself, and sits down next to you.

Kazuha isn't what you expected, but she's still gorgeous; the raven black hair, the killer body, and kissable lips. You start to crush hard. (Honestly, who would blame you?) She says, "Thank you for meeting me on such short notice."

You dismiss her worries. "All a part of the job," you say kindly, hoping to allay her fears. Kazuha notices your specific words and finds them odd, but she is happy to have a date for this stupid Gala. The two of you chat and bond over a mutual past of dancing ballet, which blows Kazuha's mind. Sakura never mentioned that the guy she would be going with also did ballet, so that was a plus. When we all go our separate ways after sharing contact info, Yel pays the rest of her money for the "companion," and you are on cloud nine.

Day of the Gala

While I am getting ready for the Gala, I am rather stressed. Having grown fond of Yel, I kinda want this to go the distance. A sentiment that you mirror with Kazuha, who is also stressing out.

"Shit!" Kazuha spits out.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"It's just so many things that can go wrong, and I need the sponsorship," Kazuha sighs, her shoulders clenched.

You smile then jokingly say, "Well I could fuck nerves out of you."

Kazuha smiles as she looks at you, "Oh that would be fantastic I haven't had a good fuck in weeks."

You laugh until Kazuha starts stripping in front of you. She smiles as she encourages you to do so as well.

You laugh and say, "Okay." as you strip. When you are both nude she approaches you before kissing you hungrily. You smile into the kiss as your hands wander her body before Kazuha pushes you onto the bed. She lines herself up with your shaft before taking you in deep. She moans as she rides you for a bit. Relief and ease paint her face as she noticeably calms down. You match her riding with thrusts of your own. Kazuha moans gratefully before saying, "Switch positions with me." you nod as you reluctantly exit her pussy. She lifts her legs and switches to the Anvil position, you hammer her as her pussy greedily accepts your cock. After another few thrusts, Kazuha tires and has you switch again.

"Oh fuck... deeper." she moans, as your cock pierces into her deeper and deeper. Her walls cling to you tightly as you fuck her in the butterfly position. She moans as you continue to violate her, and when she cums you stop to look at your watch.

"Shit we have to get ready," you say

All four of us arrive at the Gala where Kazuha and you are the talk of the town her glow is radiant as she moves through the crowds and people with a grace to match her status as a seasoned Dancer. Yel and I on the other hand are having the time of our life. We own the dance floor, and the social one joking and having fun with any and everyone.

As the night winds down Yel says, "You know Theo it's been fun. I look at her confused and say

"My name is Dio. It's short for Diabolos. I thought Sakura would have told you that."

Yel looks at me mortified before saying. "Who the fuck is Sakura?"

"Oh dear" is my response.

--------------[ Jeon Somi - @thelastdrop ]---------------

“Ms. Somi, it’s time to get going.”

“I’m not leaving until you finally admit it and come help me.”

Your boss promised that this new assignment would be an easy one, but now you're starting to regret even considering taking this job. You’ve dealt with dignitaries, actors, CEOs, anyone that has been in a position of power you’ve dealt with before and none of them have caused you nearly as much trouble as Somi has. It’s only your third week on the job but it’s felt like a lifetime of issues.

“Ms. Somi please. We do this almost everyday, can we finally move past the fact that I don't want to help you pick out what you wear on your date?"

You hear a loud groan from behind the bedroom door. You have already had to deal with Somi not wanting to get out of bed, to her refusing to eat breakfast, to her complaining about what she wants to wear. Everyday is the same routine with her and you're so over it.

"Oh come on oppa! I just need a little help deciding what to wear... Wait, are you nervous you might fall for me if you see me in my underwear?" Somi calls out from the other side of the door with a giggle.

When you first saw Somi you definitely could say that she took your breath away with her beauty. Her short blonde hair, fit body and... well her boobs, were definitely a sight to behold. But after spending everyday with her, that spark has definitely gone away. You've seen too much of her bratty side and it's made her go from an absolute 10/10 to a solid 3/10 in your mind.

"Please, we both know that you're not my type Somi."

"But oppa..." She whines back. "Just come in here and help me!"

You let out a sigh and look down at your watch. It's nearly time for Somi to leave and meet up with her date, whoever that person may be. So you decide to just go in and help her pick something out.

You slowly open up the door and when you turn around, you see Somi standing there with nothing but a bra and a thong on. Your eyes widen and you quickly turn away. The brief look alone was enough to get you imagination running with lewd thoughts.

"Jesus, Somi!" You yell back at her. "Why are you naked?"

"I'm not naked, I have a bra on!"

"Yeah and you have no other clothes on."

Even though you can't see Somi, you know there is a sly grin creeping onto her face. The quick steps of her feet towards you are a clear sign that she is up to no good You can feel her hot breath near your ears as she whispers. "You can look now."

You slowly turn around and Somi is standing there cupping her large breasts in her hands and grinning at you. She squeezes them together and smiles. "How about these oppa? Do they look good?"

You try to keep your eyes from looking down at her chest but it's nearly impossible. The words fail to come to your mouth as your brain tries to comprehend exactly what is going on.

"S-Somi!" You say in a panic. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because," Somi says as she puts her finger to her lip and smiles. "I've seen the way you look at me, especially when I'm working out, and I need some help relaxing before my date."

Somi's eyes move down your body and fixate on your groin. When they settle on it she lets out a slight gasp and giggle right after.

"Oh wow..." She says taking a few steps forward and feeling your cock through your dress pants. "If I had known you were packing this kind of weapon, I would've started teasing you from the get go."

You feel your heart pounding in your chest as Somi begins to rub her hand up and down your cock. A moan escapes your lips as you feel yourself starting to strain against your pants even harder.

Somi looks up at you with a pout. "Oppa, why do you have to hide things like this from me?"

Your eyes look down at Somi who's eyes have turned from playful to lustful. Swiftly dropping to her knees, Somi undoes your belt and fishes your cock out before you can get a word in.

"Fuck me... This is one big cock, oppa." Somi says, grabbing the base of your cock and stroking it up and down slowly.

A moan leaves your lips and you find yourself unable to say no. Her hot breath feels so nice against your cock and you feel yourself growing more excited with each second.

Suddenly you feel her tongue on the underside of your shaft and you look down to see Somi licking up and down the bottom of your shaft. Her eyes are glued to yours the entire time she's licking you. When she reaches the top she parts her lips and takes the head into her warm mouth, sucking on it as if it's the tastiest lollipop she's ever had.

"Somi... This is wrong... We shouldn't be doing this." You say as you try to get Somi to stop.

Somi ignores your warnings and continues to slobber all over your cock. Cupping your balls with one hand, she begins to try and take it down her throat. Seeing the deadly woman struggling to take you down her throat unlocks something inside of you that you didn't know existed. Placing your hand on the back of her head you pull her mouth down further on your cock, forcing it to go past her gag reflex and into her throat.

Somi gags as your cock slides deeper down her throat. Your cock is now halfway down her throat and you're still holding her head there, enjoying the warm and wet feeling of her tight throat around your shaft. Somi tries to pull away but you tighten your grip in her hair and keep her there.

"Fuck Somi!"

Somi's eyes go wide as she feels your cock starting to throb in her mouth.

"You're such a fucking brat. If you want to act like a slut, then I'm going to treat you like one!" You say as you start to fuck her face.

Somi lets out a few gags and moans as your cock slams in and out of her throat. As you're fucking her face you notice Somi reaching down between her legs and playing with herself. The sight of Somi fingering herself while you fuck her face is enough to send you over the edge.

Pushing her head down all the way on your cock, you unload your cum down her throat. Somi's eyes roll back in her head as you cum straight down her throat. Your cum fills up her mouth and pours out down her chin and onto the floor. When you finish cumming you let go of her and watch as Somi falls back before swallowing and looking up at you with a playful look in her eyes.

"Well I guess my date is going to have to wait."

--------------[ IVE Gaeul - @msafterhours ]--------------

“Look at you, shaking like a leaf in the wind and I haven’t even taken my top off yet. Are you even going to survive seeing me naked?”

It’s a good thing you’re sitting on the bed, because otherwise, Gaeul’s statement wouldn’t have hit nearly as hard. However, in reality, as she looks down her nose at you, eyebrows furrowed in disdain as she sizes up your shivering frame, every syllable hits.

“Oh well, I guess you’ll just have to do,” Gaeul scoffs, pushing you aside as she leisurely lowers herself onto the bed and allows her obsidian curtain of hair to rest atop the white pillows, creating a beautiful contrast of opposites. “Come then; strip me.”

You do as you’re told, scrambling onto the bed and bowing your head subserviently. With a reverent touch, you begin the holy ritual of disrobing her, starting from her shoes and socks, climbing up her toned calves and creamy thighs until you reach the hem of her skirt and unzip the offending garment. You leave her panties for now, electing instead to lift her shirt above her shoulders and past those twinkling eyes, leaving you with the luscious sight of the luxurious lingerie that Gaeul decided to grace you with tonight.

“Ah ah ah, now’s not the time,” she scolds you. “You can admire the artwork another time, for now, I expect you to do what I demand.”

“Yes mistress,” you hurriedly respond, reaching behind her back and savoring its definition as you unsnap her bra and reveal the hardened peaks of her beautiful breasts. Before your mouth can start watering, you drag your fingertips back down her abdomen, hooking them into the fabric of her panties and pulling them down with a swift tug. With that, Gaeul finally lays bare before you, truly a sight to behold as you ask, “What next, mistress? How may I please you tonight?”

“Keep your clothes on, pet; tonight is about my pleasure and mine alone. Taste me—I want to see what you can do to me with just your fingers and mouth.”

“Yes mistress,” you reply, bowing your head once more and settling into a comfortable position between her thighs. The pads of your fingers glide down the smooth, pale skin, descending until they reach the curves of her calves and then begin their ascent once more. With each passing second, you exhale just a bit harder than you need to, sending wave after wave of warm breath over her glistening core. You consider detouring further, but your train of thought is derailed as—

“Do not make me wait any longer,” Gaeul demands, the slight quiver in her voice betraying the anticipation her unwavering expression hides so well.

“Of course, mistress,” you intone quietly, leaning even closer and extending your tongue, finally savoring the sweetness of her arousal as you simultaneously slide a finger into her waiting warmth. You try—and fail—to hide a grin as a sharp gasp escapes her lips, revealing another hole in her haughty facade.

Gaeul tries—and fails—to contain her moans as you begin to truly move, but as your lips close down onto her clit and you surprise her by skipping two fingers and instead begin harshly fucking her with three, her efforts are quickly proven to be in vain. So instead, her elation rings out clear and true, a beautiful symphony of rapturous pleasures with you as its virtuoso. Your performance quickly leads her to a crescendo, coating your fingers and lips with the savory taste of the metaphorical fruits of your labor, lending you tonight’s first bit of confidence as you hungrily lap away at the juices.

“What next, mistress?” you ask, ever eager to serve.

Gaeul recovers far more quickly than you expected, pushing you back once more as her eyes burn bright and she stands ‘tall’ before you. “On your knees,” she commands.

You oblige.

Immediately. So quickly, in fact, that you have to suppress a grimace as your knees slam into the carpet, but that’s a minor distraction at most, especially when Gaeul stands before you expectantly.

“Again.”

You’re all too willing to begin the next measure, licking and lapping away at her drenched sex like you’ve been trapped in a desert for weeks. The ascent is far quicker this time around, and you’re left supporting her weight as she quivers and shakes as the shivers and quakes overtake her body, leaving her voice raspy as she once again demands, “Again.”

So, you give Gaeul what she wants. With her face down against the bed and her ass in the air. On the way to the shower. In the shower. After the shower, with you on your knees again as she seats herself on the edge of the bed. Then finally, once more as she lounges atop the pillows, poise faltering as you treat her like a queen … all the way until the clock strikes midnight.

“So ma’am, was it everything you hoped for?” you ask, voice suddenly measured and steady as you slip out of your role.

“Of course, you were perfect as always,” Gaeul replies, words still uneven as she desperately catches her breath. Despite her fatigue, there’s a sparkle in her eyes as she pushes herself into a sitting position, just close enough to plant a delicate kiss upon your cheek. “Deposit should have just hit your account and … oh, do you know if you’re available next Thursday afternoon?”

“Mayyybe,” you say, drawing out the syllables long enough to paint a smile on Gaeul’s face. “But nothing so important that I can’t be talked out of it.”

“I have a mandatory company dinner that I need a plus one for,” she explains. “Any interest?”

“I’d have to charge double my normal rate if you expect me to socialize,” you jest, shuddering in mock horror.

“Then I’ll pay you triple to do it with a smile,” Gaeul fires back.

“Now that …” you say, mirroring her smile. “That I can do.”

---------[ Le Sserafim Kazuha - @usedpidemo ]--------

“Fuck.”

It’s a word delivered with half-exhaustion, half pleasure.

To be fair, there isn’t anything to complain about right now. There’s a naked girl bouncing on your lap, lazily rolling her hips on your hardening cock as she notices you’ve finally woken up from your deep slumber. It helps that she’s incredibly pretty.

“Morning.”

She smiles, picturesque and warm, a complete contrast to the particularly lewd motions she’s doing—and what you did last night.

So while you let her ride you on a fine morning, sunlight piercing through the curtains, kissing her pale skin, let’s jog through your memories and see how you got here:

—————

“Fuck!” you shout as the home team runs out to center court in celebration of their championship win. Of course, they can’t hear you through the screen. Still, you’re bashing your fist on the bar table and cursing them all, one by one. You just watched your parlay blow up in complete flames.

Every pundit had the green shirts winning. Despite the overwhelming warnings, you still believed otherwise. This was the reward of your faith: a thousand dollars down the drain. A majority of fellow viewers jump in celebration, presumably on the winning side, but there’s still a few downtrodden and crushed souls in the mix, mostly dedicated and diehard fans. You weren’t one of them; you merely craved the adrenaline of a high stakes bet.

One thing’s for sure: the house always wins. At least you don’t have the burden of a loan shark behind your back.

So while you scramble away from the commotion in the lounge room, trying to clear your mind and senses from the loss, you walk past a girl casually sitting by herself on a couch, leg crossed. As if she’s been waiting for someone, or something. An opportunity. She makes a snarkily delivered comment, along the lines of, “You look a little lonely tonight.”

You wanted no part of her. It’s a tactic quite commonplace: they see a vulnerable guy, convince them to fork over whatever money they have left in exchange for a good time. Something to forget the misery, or another high. Next thing you know, they wake up to an empty room with their wallets also empty. They’re everywhere, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She seems no different.

“Fuck off,” is your response before briskly walking quicker.

She realizes she’s found the perfect target: you. Try as she might, it’s oh-so-obvious that she wants you. Stalking from a considerable distance, blending in the background to come off as unassuming, giving you looks that clearly scream ‘Pick me! Choose me!’ whenever your eyes happen to land on her. The only thing really missing is her taking you by the hand and pulling you aside.

—————

“Shit, shit—oh God—” you grunt, watching as your cock disappears in and out of her soaking cunt. The scars of last night still haven’t fully healed yet. If anything, it’s making you worse, and for her, all the better.

“You like that?” She tilts her face at an angle where daylight shines on her pretty face, as if you needed a clearer statement to say she’s drop dead gorgeous. Her dark hair remains perfectly intact, hardly unchanged from the night before, despite the rather messy way you handled her. She’s riding you, moaning between sharp crashes of her hips on your lap. “You like how I ride this cock?”

“Fuck, I do, but—” you hiss, placing a hand on her wrist, your gaze fixated on the sticky wetness building on your cock and around your groin. ��Be gentle, be gentle.”

She nods, leaning her face close to yours, slowing her pace to a manageable crawl. “Okay.”

—————

“Let me guess, parlay fucked up?” The girl finally makes a move, sitting beside you in a bar of a different lounge, smiling devilishly. The confidence in her quiet tone should ring a few alarms, but you either have lost hearing, or said alarms have been disabled by her charm. You’re about to play with fire; it’s dangerous.

“Happens to everyone. You’re not the first, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

It should come off as insufferable, insulting, downright disrespectful. Instead, you find yourself completely speechless, allured by her natural smile. Her youthful glow, her figure perfectly fit in a skintight dress—it’s a sight for sore eyes.

“You’re staring.” The girl states the obvious. It’s not gonna stop you, and she doesn’t mind. In fact, she loves the attention. On the other hand, you have the perfect distraction. Both sides win.

“All drinks are on me,” she tells the waiter, gesturing her finger at you, her guest of honor.

Glasses are served almost immediately. You both raise a drink to failure. Failure to hit the parlay, and failure to keep yourself from falling any further. You’re fucked.

After taking a sip, you ask her, rather awkwardly: “You watch sports?”

—————

You don’t remember all the details after that, and that’s fine. Alcohol tends to do that. But what you do remember is extremely vivid: the soft hums and groans that echo inside the bathroom stall. Her tongue wrapped on your cock while she’s on her knees. Her leg coiled around your waist as you pressed her up against the enclosed panel, thrusting up her cunt. Her ass rippling from behind as you fuck her in the comfort of your hotel room. Her body pressed in a spread angle as you fuck her splayed on the bed. And of course, the numerous times your bodies gave out from cumming so much.

There’s another detail you forget, the most crucial one: “I forgot your name, what was it again? I’m sorry.”

She chuckles, hides the laughter behind her hand. “You never asked.”

“Really?” You feel a little ashamed.

“Don’t worry about that for now—” she says, squatting her ass on your lap, grinning naughtily. It’s easy to sweep your mind away from superfluous thoughts when you have a hot girl bouncing on your cock, her tits being handfuls in your palm, her hair twirled around your fingertips, and her moans echoing on loop, occupying the space in your head where you should be thinking about the future.

Soon enough, you find yourself on edge, about to surrender. “Gonna cum, gonna cum—” you tell her, your body aching in despair, and it arouses her further, quickening her pace to maddening, erratic levels—a place that you shouldn’t be in. She’s now leaning back, her hands gripped to your knees, giving you a clear view of the incoming disaster: your cock pistoning in and out of her pussy, so drenched and fully coated in her sheen and slick that it’s alarming.

And you orgasm not long after, spilling into her needy cunt with a thick burst of load as she crashes her hips into your groin one last time. Her lithe frame going rigid, violently trembling, her jaw going slack, eyes completely shut as she lets the heat of your cum wash over her senses. “Oh baby—right there, just like that—it feels so good—”

As you continue to spurt into her heat, you appreciate the finer, overlooked details: her slender waist, her toned abs and stomach, her cute voice whenever she opens her mouth. Most importantly, the fact that she never stops talking, never stops making a sound even while you were fucking her.

She lets out this deep, satisfied gasp. Clambering off your waist, she heads into the bathroom to clean up, the last image of her being your sheen dripping down her thighs. You just lay there. Exhausted, drained, fulfilled.

Until you hear the subtle creak of the door. And the rumbling in your stomach. That’s when you finally decide to get up.

Then you remember you never got her name. She’s gone, just like that. You’re beating yourself up for being forgetful and in the moment, until you notice a note written on the desk:

1-800-hot n fun hotel & casino.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx

call me anytime

with love, your chalet girl for the evening

nakamura kazuha

---------[ BLACKPINK Jennie - @jeneveuxrein ]--------

So here you are, running late to a restaurant across town Lisa reserved a table for you and this Kim Jennie. The name sounded familiar, but you couldn’t remember from where.

The hostess guides you to the table, politely informing you that your date arrived and was already seated. You open your mouth to thank her, but you stop before any words come out because you know this woman you’re walking towards.

This woman who was, still probably is, out of your league during your teenage years. The very same woman you had the biggest crush on, but knew there would never be a chance.

Jennie’s dressed modestly. A tan headband keeps her hair neat, strands falling along her black sweater with the white collar peeking through. Her head’s down, attention on her phone, that she doesn’t see you or the hostess approaching.

Once you get closer, Jennie slowly lifts her head up, eyes widening once she meets your gaze. She recognizes you, mouth slightly opening before composing herself. She stands as gracefully as ever when you get to the table, bowing as you do the same.

You aren’t sure what to say as you settle into your seats, awkwardly shooting each other shy glances across the table.

“So…” You clear your throat, slipping into the mask of cool confidence, even though it’s derailed. You can’t be the alias you use since Jennie knows who the fuck you are. “Um, this is a bit… unexpected.” You didn’t know what to say without sounding weird.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” Her voice just as you remembered.

You shake your head, not wanting her to take any blame. It’s no one’s fault. You doubt Lisa knew you’d know one of her friends, let alone a friend who needed someone like you. You tell her just that, easing some of her nerves as her face relaxes.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. We could just have dinner, and I’ll tell Lisa not to charge you or whatever,” You say as smoothly as possible, hoping this would appease her. Your teenage self would have died to be at some fancy restaurant with Kim Jennie, a dream come true. You hardly kept a conversation with her in the classroom, let alone didn’t have the nerve to speak to her in the hallways, so this is an accomplishment in itself. “What do you say? Think of it as old friends catching up?”

Even though you weren’t ever friends. You weren’t remotely close to her, barely a blip on her radar. It was all for appearances sake.

This time, Jennie’s smile reaches her eyes, an adorable gummy one that has you internally swooning. You hope she doesn’t notice you blushing, so you divert to drinking water.

“What if I wanted more than dinner?” Jennie raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling up.

You lean forward, intrigued. “What else did you have in mind?”

“I want to experience what they say, you do come highly recommended,” Her voice purrs seductively, dropping an octave. “I’ve asked around.”

“Could be lies,” You quip, smirking.

“Doubtful.”

“Could disappoint you.”

“You won’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

How could you refuse such an offer?

---------[ Newjeans Hanni - @i-am-lifeform24 ]--------

"Ow! Sorry!" Hanni yelps, rubbing her forehead as you lead her through your apartment. The hanging lamp sways with the impact, dust scattering on piles of books and stacks of unused plates.

"Are you sure you want to do it like this?" You ask, turning around to look at the girl. A white wool coat stays fastened around her waist with a golden clasp, the thin blouse underneath loosely tracing her neckline. It's as if she wasn't quite sure how the clothes fit, but they ended up looking gorgeous on her anyways.

"I-I am. It'll be fun, sir! Once I work the kinks out." Hanni grins, tightening the large blindfold around her head. You can't help but notice how she's biting her lip, head swiveling like she's trying to figure out where she is.

"Sir is a bit much, don't you think?" you chuckle, grabbing Hanni's hand and leading her into your bedroom.

"Wony said it turns you on! Doesn't it? .....Sir?" Hanni retorts, giggling as her bare feet land on your rug.

You sit on the edge of your bed. "Maybe, but isn't the point of ordering through the app that you should know what turns me on?"

Hanni pouts, blowing out her cheeks, the blindfold sliding a bit as she cocks her head. "I'm still getting used to it okay! Plus, you know, she said that you'll teach me...sir."

Silence, except for the faint hum of air-conditioning fills the room. Hanni starts swaying from side to side, her pout turning melting away, her small hands tracing the outline of her blazer on her hips.

"And what am I supposed to... teach you?" You bark, or try to, your throat drying up, eyes glued to the faint outline of Hanni's tits, shifting from side to side underneath her blazer, teasing you.

A smile dances of the girl's lips. She's not shifting on the balls of her feet anymore, but dancing; elegantly swaying in place, hands tracing the edge of her chin, her collarbone, grabbing the edge of her blouse and lifting it up to show you just a little bit of her toned stomach.

She leans forward, "Sir..." The word is a drawl, her pink lips wet as she draws the blazer down her shoulders. You're leaning forward now too. Wonyoung said she was an amateur, that you were going to be her first. What kind of amateur moves their body like this?

As if she knows you're there, Hanni giggles, the blazer hitting the floor with a dull thump, "You're supposed to teach me how to be a good little whore sir, the kind that, yknow, sells."

You're salivating now, her soft, exposed skin a welcome change. Your breaths are deeper, heart beating out of your chest. "I'm gonna turn the lights down, strip for me?"

Hanni smiles wide at your request, doing a mini fist pump as you move around her. "Oh my god, you're turned on sir? Like, hard and everything?" She giggles as you grab her ass on the way back to the bed, the soft, yellow light on your nightstand enveloping the waiting girl.

"Shh, lesson one. Blowjobs." You start, your voice low, trying to sound calm, ignoring your cock straining against your boxers.

Hanni breaths in, clasping her hands together "Oh, yes! Okay, okay. Do I... Woah!"

"Kneel? Yes." You finish, your hands on Hanni's bare shoulders, your legs spread, the smaller girl pushed in between them.

Hanni bites her lip, "Wony's always so loud in the other room, always, so..." She leans in, lips open, sticking her nose close to your crotch, breathing faster as she smells you, her mouth hanging open.

"Hanni, i'm gonna take this off okay?" Your hands find the straps on her shoulders, playing with them between your fingers.

"Yes, yes, please, sir, you smell...nice." She's giggling again, looking up at you, the blindfold only accentuating her stupid smile.

You reach down, bringing the blouse above her head. Hanni cranes her neck forward while you do it, lips still open, nose sniffing, not seeing anything, as if she's trying to stay as close to your crotch as possible.

"You have beautiful tits" You whisper, and Hanni gives you a small smile, clutching her hands around her chest. "Sorry sir, you're the first one to, you know..."

"I know." you whisper, taking her fingers in yours, Hanni looking up at you, not quite knowing where you are, her mouth opening in an "o' when she feels you guide her to hold the edge of your waistband.

"Can I... sir?" She asks, softly, leaning forward, pink nipples hard in the low light, looking up at you. You almost regret adding blindfolding as a kink in your profile, you'd love to see her eyes right now.

"Go ahead." you shift forward to the edge of the bed, leaning on your elbows to give her a better angle. Hanni pulls down your boxers fast, her open mouth curling into a smile as your cock stands in the cold air conditioning.

You feel Hanni's breath on the tip of your cock, but with the blindfold, she's just holding still, hands reaching for your thighs, lips puckered as she cutely tries to kiss the air.

"Stop, stick your tongue out." you chuckle, and Hanni gulps. "Y-yes sir!" her wet tongue slowly lolling out. Her hands are on her knees now, and you wish you could take a mental picture of how her perky tits sway with each needy breath, of how a line of saliva drips down from the edge of her tongue onto the carpet, of how her bare back arches, neck craning, as if she can't wait for the moment your cock finally touches her panting lips.

You rest your hand on the top of Hanni's head, the girl panting even harder, whining as you gather up her hair into a messy ponytail, your other hand gripping the base of your already leaking cock.

You smirk, you have got to thank Wonyoung for this later.

You lean forward, tilting Hanni's head up to you, her hands leaving her knees to scramble onto your bare thighs. "Please... please..."

"Good girl. Lesson starts now."

#kpop smut #male reader smut #gidle smut #ive smut #le sserafim smut #blackpink smut #aespa smut

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originalaccountname · 6 months ago

Text

I think that, on the topic of Dazai being "made for the dark", it's useful to take a step back and compare him to other characters that had a similar path to his.

Kyouka wasn't always in the PM, and was forcefully brought in when she was a shell of herself. She had natural talents for the skills needed to be an assassin. These skills were nurtured by people who have known darkness their entire lives, who saw them as useful and fulfilling. Except Kyouka didn't like killing, despite being good at it: she didn't want to have to do it. She got help and got out, but she still uses these skills in her new world, just not the same way.

Jouno used to be an executive in a criminal organization. We have seen Jouno in the Hunting Dogs be cruel and mocking. He very efficiently threatened civilians, caused psychological harm to Kunikida while trying to recruit him, roped a child (Aya) into being his witness, and in the past tried to coax a criminal into committing suicide. His own partner, Tetchou, chastises him for these terrible habits, and yet, he wants to help people! Gratitude from the people he helped is worth more than anything, and that's all he needs to be on the side of justice, his strong criminal leanings irrelevant.

Dazai is much like them. His skillset and fragile moral compass were incredibly well-suited for the mafia life. He has talent for business, negotiation, torture, strategy, improvising, etc., and has no qualms about killing. His obsession with death led him to pick the PM as his path, his apathy, skills and insane luck made him at home in organized crime. Yet, his health was getting worse, which meant him being suited for the dark, him being "built" for the mafia life, didn't mean his spirit was. When he left to help people instead, he found more friends, more fulfillment and got better. His previous skills are repurposed or hidden away until needed.

BSD is full of characters who were good at what they did, but unhappy, unfulfilled or unhealthy in their lives. I'd argue that even more characters actively live in that limbo, looking fit for the lives they live, but would be better in a different one, maybe even one a bit harder for them.

Dazai was "made for the dark" the same way Kyouka was made to be an assassin. Dazai found fulfillment in helping people the same way Jouno did. The original statement isn't incorrect, but it's not an absolute truth either; feeling trapped into something you don't like or is harmful to you while being good at or enjoying it is a very common thing that BSD regularly pushes to the full scale of a character's motivations. To not reject how one was "made for" a certain life while fighting or yearning for a different one is compelling: it's spitting in the face of fate in favour of your happiness, it's having agency over your life. It's a good message.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd meta #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #apparently i talk sometimes

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dolicekiss · 4 months ago

Note

Hello there,

If ur still taking Hannibal requests, could you potentially do a yandete Hannibal x reader (one-shot or headcanon it doesn't really matter) where the reader is an author who recently just came put with a new novel that got alot of popularity.

The reason it intrigued Hannibal so much is that the antagonist of the novel is based off the Chesapeake Ripper. Feeling flattered, Hannibal goes to one of her book signings, where he finds her absolutely captivating in person. What extents would this man do to get her attention?

♡: can i just say how descriptive some of y'all are with this.. this is literally book worthy 😭 also let me know if you want another part :[

Blood Ink

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal Lecter X Author!reader

CONTENT WARNING: dark hannibal, implied stalking, murder, mention of dead body, yandere behavior, unhinged hannibal, breaking in, leaving creepy little notes, obsessed hannibal

SYNOPSIS: Your book had gained immense popularity and you were quite the talk of the city, showing up in every article and news but capturing Hannibal Lecter’s attention was the worst thing ever, especially when you'd written an antagonist based off the Chesapeake ripper. Hannibal was flattered and in awe of how to I described him and his curiosity grew but so did his infatuation with you when he saw you.

Hannibal was flattered.

Completely amused by how you wrote depiction of him, how well you understood him despite never crossing paths.

Your abundance of understanding when it came to the mind of the killer was not only something he swooned over but how beautifully you wrote down all his murders impressed him, like they were pieces of art. It nearly worked to arouse him in a sense he craved to see you.

They were art, indeed.

Hannibal saw it that way, he saw beauty where most people saw something monstrous, something atrocious. You understood that and Hannibal had to meet you.

You'd written a book about him, a well written — descriptive book, showing off your skills of a true writer. A fan of literature he was and you had caught yourself the worst kind of attention.

The Chesapeake Ripper’s.

He had to meet you, had to see who this woman was who'd written such gruesome details about his murders. The book also included some fictional content, such as the Chesapeake Ripper committing crimes he'd never committed in the real world.

But Hannibal knew you'd included that only to add depth to him, to help the readers understand the beautiful cruelty of Hannibal Lecter.

After spending multiple hours on the internet and reading tabloids about you, watching your interviews, reading articles regarding your personal life and your work life, Hannibal finally made the decision to visit you at one of your book signings.

Your book was controversial, as many people accused you of using a serial killer as an antagonist in your book, giving him a rise in fame but it was never mentioned the book was about the Chesapeake Ripper at all. Only the antagonist had been based off him.

Hannibal was restless, so he grabbed his coat and left for your book signing which took place at a well known book store, in Baltimore too.

You were so close to him.

This had to be fate playing its game.

When Hannibal entered into the crowded book store, there you were. A huge smile decorated your features as you moved your lips to engage in a conversation with one of your fans. Hair up in a neat french bun, only a few strands framing your face — nails freshly done and sharp, resting against your soft beautifully sculpted face.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

Hannibal had seen your picture but the electronic devices did no justice to your beauty.

Hannibal felt his heart give birth to a foreign sensation, spreading through his chest and mixing in with the veins in his body. The copper and the darkness becoming one. He was completely captivated by the mere sight of you and he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

You let out a cheery laugh, nodding your head at the person in front of you before lowering your gaze, fingers holding a marker tightly to sign on the first page of your book. Hannibal analyzed closely, how swiftly your fingers moved and how beautiful they were.

He, for a split moment, imagined them decorated on a plate with vegetables.

Hannibal inhaled a deep breath, a futile attempt to regain his composure that he was beginning to lose control over at the mere sight of you.

You were a sweetheart, from how you interacted with your fans and how full of life you seemed. Deep inside his heart he hoped that you were just the same on the inside too.

Hand clasped around your book, he walked into the line. Awaiting for the people in front of him to get their books signed. He was a patient man but right now, his restlessness almost made him want to crush through the people and get to you.

Finally when his turn arrived, Hannibal slid the book over to you on the beige table. You greeted him with that gleaming smile of yours, bright enough to light up the whole room and the darkness which had bloomed in his chest when he was only a little boy.

Hannibal wasn't aware that catching a whiff of you would consume him like this but here he was, struggling to keep himself from tipping over the edge. Your scent reminded him of flowers, a fluorescent garden with bright sun rays cascading down upon it. Giving it light and life. Growing drunk on it.

His nostrils flared, inhaling more of the sweet perfume you'd adorned yourself with like some obsessed puppy. God, he was fucking dizzy over how sugary you smelled and the man couldn't get enough of it. Like old restored wine, he craved to drown you down and savor you against his tongue.

“Beautiful writing skills you've got.” Hannibal complimented with a gentle smile. Your cheeks heated up, switching to a shade of rosette.

Your eyes sparkled. “Thank you. I guess you could say I put my soul into writing this book.”

Well you just dug yourself a deeper hole than you were in before by saying that. Hannibal’s heart fluttered at your words. You'd invested your soul into writing about him, him only and that fact made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

His smile lines deepened, watching as you reached for the book and flipped it open. Fingers tightly enveloping the marker between them, you scribbled your signature on the white paper along with your initials.

“You must have a really beautiful soul then.” Hannibal said and you swallowed. His politeness and his charm worked in mysterious ways to pull you towards him but Hannibal knew just by approaching you as a fan — which he was, wouldn't really work.

He had to do more to gain your attention, your full focus.

You slid his book back over to him and Hannibal nodded, picking it up. “It was a pleasure seeing you in person. Do you mind if I ask you a question, miss?”

You raised a brow but then slowly nodded.

Hannibal’s lips curved up. “Do you believe that the Chesapeake Ripper might read this book one day?”

Your brows furrowed. Hannibal’s question was peculiarly interesting, different than the questions others had for you. Fans excited to know about the inspiration behind the book, some aching to know where you'd come up with the sinister plot. But none like this.

Hannibal’s question had crossed your mind on multiple occasions.

“Maybe but if he does, I would be interested in knowing his opinion on the book.” You responded truthfully.

That was all Hannibal needed. He stared at you, with a longing foreign to you and then he nodded. You watched him walk out of the book store as your gaze clung to him. Something inside you told you this wouldn't be the first time you'd see this man.

You shook your head and signed the rest of the books, answering all the curious questions about your books and then leaving when the event had ended. It had gotten late and you swung your leather bag over your shoulder, heels clicking against the road when you crossed it to head to your car.

The night was dark and quiet — peace tainting spreading to corner, only the sound of crickets chatting could be heard along with the clicking of your pencil heels echoing in the vast space.

Before you could enter your car, a piece of paper stuck to the front glass of your car caught your attention. With a bemused expression on your face, you reached for it and ripped the sticky note off the glass.

As your gaze ran over the content of it, your hands began to tremble.

An absolute beauty you are. You have captured my mind, heart and soul with your enthralling words. Be careful, my Dearest.

You blinked, head immediately snapping up and gaze flickering all over the area you were in. Hoping you'd find someone who left this note but you were all alone, a deep silence greeting you. Panic filled you but your brain provided you with some reassurance.

A note left by a fan.

Maybe an admirer of your writing.

That had to be it.

Of course that was it. You released a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Calm down, it's probably nothing.”

You took the note in your hand and got into your car, twisting the key into ignition and driving off to your house. On your way home, your mind kept repeating the words written in beautiful calligraphy over the paper. The twists of each letter — as if love had been poured into it.

You let out a breath, hoping that along with the run rising tomorrow you'd forget about this.

You preferred solitude and peace, not fond of the city so the area you lived in was quitw distant and overall stayed underneath complete silence. Cold breeze caressed your face as you drove by and when you finally reached home, you stepped out of the car with the intention to hit the bed.

Your arm throbbed from the amount of books you'd signed but you loved it. You loved writing down your thoughts, different plot lines. Invention of different characters was your coping mechanism.

You didn't know that when the next day you'd wake up, a horrible news would be awaiting you.

— ♡ —

Morning came by a flash.

You weren't typically cheerful but you weren't also grumpy either. An optimist was what you called yourself. You always looked forward to new days, trying to carry a positive mindset with you in life.

Coffee and pancakes was your go to breakfast.

Once you'd prepared it, you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels while sipping onto your delicious, hot piping coffee which eased the prickling sensation caused by the shivering cold.

But then you stopped.

Eyes widening in horror over the news that flashed before you.

“The Chesapeake Ripper strikes again, taking another victim under his hold. This time it is an unidentified man in his thirties who was found dead last night in a forest. The FBI claims it was the Chesapeake Ripper who put up quite the show of the body.”

You blinked profusely.

The Ripper had stopped killing, quite for some time now. So why was he killing again? You were bemused but you didn't let it get to your head. A disturbing emotion seeped into your chest, anxiety spreading and you lost your appetite.

You decided it'd be best to go under the radar for now, as you'd written about the man.

There was a knock on the door and your panicked gaze switched to it. Placing your mug down, you stood up and walked to unlock the door. It revealed an FBI agent, also known as Will Graham. You'd come across tabloids about the compassionate empath who often helped with catching the murderers.

“Yes?”

Will raised his hand and you noticed he was holding your book. “You wrote this book?”

You nodded your head, an apprehensive feeling being born. “I did. Why?”

Will Graham invited himself in, gaze analyzing your home in scrutiny. You were taken aback by his behavior but still didn't say a word, as he was an FBI agent, a murder had been committed by the Chesapeake Ripper and he was holding your book.

“I'm sure you're aware of the murder that took place last night.” You couldn't understand what that had to do with you but you still heard him out, waiting for him to continue.

“Let's say our killer was heavily inspired by your book. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Your lips parted in confusion, brows furrowed as you were left flummoxed by the man's words. It's true you'd taken inspiration from the Chesapeake Ripper but that was all there was to it. There was no way someone had taken what you'd written to heart.

You took a step back. “I don't get this, agent Graham. What do you exactly mean by inspired?”

“I've read the book, miss. There are a few murder scenes which are fictional, never committed by the Chesapeake Ripper.” He explained, holding out printed parts of your own book. You slowly took them and then you were handed the photographs from the murder scene.

As your gaze swiped over it, your jaw dropped.

No way.

There was no way.

“No.” You whispered.

Exactly what you'd written, what you'd described, how you described it and even imagined it when you wrote it down. It was the same, a carbon copy like you yourself had committed the crime. You yourself had decorated the fucking set up.

You pressed a hand over your chest, feeling nauseous.

“Since they were fictional, the killer took it upon himself to bring them to life. Manifest them into reality, miss.” Your breathing grew uneven. A pang of guilt blossoming in your ribcage when your eyes glided over the dead body wrapped in dreadful vines, decorated with flowers.

Lily of the valley and Belladona.

Poisonous but beautiful flowers they were.

Your chest tightened.

Will noticed the raw fear and uncomfort spread on your face. It was exactly the same as what you'd written. Every detail, every touch, every little item was perfectly presented in the way you'd imagined it to be when you wrote it down. When you took hint of the body, your face became more flustered.

Exactly from the description of your book.

Blonde, male, short height and lean frame.

Just exactly the way you'd written him down and you looked at Will. “O-Organs. Is he missing a liver?”

Will nodded and that made you sick to your damn stomach.

Someone was out there — probably the Chesapeake Ripper and he had read your book.

This was a message.

To tell you he'd read your book.

Your fingers trembled and their grasp loosened over the pieces of paper, as well as the photographs. Falling to the floor.

Will kneeled down to gather them and then stood back on his feet.

“I-I don't know. I h-have no idea why he's doing this.” You stumbled over your words, palm pressing into your chest as your forehead became sweaty.

You were a mess.

“Calm down, please.” Will said, to reassure you. You could sense a panic attack knocking at the doors of your brain, struggling to breathe.

But you tried to calm yourself down. You weren't responsible for this as much as you felt like it. The fucking crime scene looked like you'd committed it, no wonder the FBI had come knocking on your damn door. This was going to sabotage you but at least they were aware someone else was doing the kills.

That calmed you down a little.

But you were still on edge. Taken aback from the abrupt change brought in one night.

“Am I a suspect?” You asked and Will shook his head. That relieved you a little.

After Will was done asking you some questions regarding the book and if there was anyone who you had shared the contents of it before the book was released, he left and you were all alone.

The scenes where the antagonist committed the fictional murders were completely out of your imagination. All thought about under the dark night and the glimmering stars.

You went to the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water and the cold water worked sufficiently to hydrate your parched mouth and throat.

You went into your room to grab your laptop, in hopes that you might find something on the internet. Leaning down, you tried to pick it up from your bed but stalled. A piece of paper capturing your attention. Folded neatly underneath your pillow.

Your breath hitched.

It was eerily similar to the paper that was stuck to your glass.

Heart beat picking up and hands beginning to shake, you reached for the paper and picked it up. As you unfolded it with bated breaths, your eyes widened.

Same hand writing, different words.

No amount of words were capable enough to describe the fear that you felt in that very moment when your gaze captured and read each and every word.

I hope you like what I prepared for you, my Dearest. There is more to come, please cherish and appreciate my gifts for you.

Tears stung your eyes vision blurry. You thought that was it but no. There was more, in the lower corner of the paper. You squinted your eyes and what you read next made you drop the note.

I must say, you are a gorgeous sight when you sleep.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal one shot #hannibal lecter x reader #tw yandere #mads mikkelsen fanfic #mads mikkelsen #will graham #hannibal headcanons #dark hannibal lecter

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