#then everything really comes crashing down

[grlpartdoll]

Something something

141 boys in a tiny mountain lumberjack town that has a total of 30 people in it and Price basically runs it all because he's the one that keeps the economy going (he has a lumber business and most of the people in town work for him) and Ghost is the hunter / butcher that is freakishly big and somewhat haunting looking and that you can't seem to catch ever because you see him for a split second, catching his masked face in the pub, and next think you know he's gone.

Johny is that bartender who keeps the local pub and the community warm, fed and mostly drunk. He talks too much and is known to be a lady's man, if not also a man's man, at times. Despite that, he has a sweet soul and the kindest eyes and won't hesitate to rattle off a loud "aye, s'on da house, mate! No worr'ies!".

Kyle is the boy next door, who, yes, is the town's mayor's son, but the mayor title in this time is really just a technicality. Because everyone knows deep down that the ones who run this town are the people, not a singular entity. Anyway, he's that sweet, boy next door who truly cares for everyone, and never hesitates to give a hand here and there and especially at Price's business. (His father hates it. But Kyle loves it, and he appreciates being John Price's (sort of) apprentice.)

Comes in, you. Sweet, sweet angel come from above — a pretty wounded bird — all but crashing into their town.

You pretend that everything is fine. Pretend that your crazy ex (who is a police officer) isn't actively running after you.

You come with the clothes on your back and enough stuff to fill a backpack. And somehow inherit the bookstore of the old, grumpy gossip lady that's too tired to keep it in shape anymore.

It's not surprising that your sudden appearance intrigues people, but it's really your reaction to the attention, that gets them even more interested.

You're cagey. Bitey. Hissy. You cock an eyebrow at people more than you speak to them. Raise your nose up haughtily at things, pretending as though you believe yourself too good for most things happening in town.

You walk always with a purpose, and an eye over your shoulder. You're hyper-aware and all riled up like a live wire, ready to snap at the boys as they try to catch a feel of your current situation and mood

And Johny can't help but think, as you simply scoff at him and walk away from his flirting, that he knows exactly who to call, when it comes to feral little things begging to be caught and handled properly.

Part 2 / Part 3

[whytheylosttheirminds]

no shame - r.c.

(Rafe Cameron x shy!waitress!reader blurb, 1.1k)

summary: Oh nothing just me thinking about what happens when Rafe takes you back to his place after weeks of eyeing you up at the club, losing his mind over your little blush when he caught you staring…

content: fully just smut, mentions of insecurity, 18+ minors do not interact!!

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Rafe was obsessed. Everything about you was so much better than he had imagined. And god, he had spent hours imagining. But you were lightyears beyond the version of you he conjured up as he fisted himself every night after you'd waited on him at the club restaurant, making a mess all over his sheets while he groaned your name.

The real thing was a million times better. He loved how expressive you were, so unafraid to tell him exactly what you wanted and how he made you feel. He knew he was a goner from the moment you pulled back from what was supposed to be a goodnight kiss in his truck, brows furrowed and lips puffy when you told him “Rafe, I’m really wet.”

Then when he finally got you in his bed, he thought maybe he’d found heaven. You were just so sweet, so polite. Looking at him with genuine gratitude while you let him bury himself all the way, asking him to go harder and then whimpering “thank you!!” when he obliged.

You were clueless to his adoration, though. Your own insecurities getting the best of you, even though you felt better with him then you ever had in your life.

You were so worked up after your dreamy evening together, Rafe showing up looking so damn handsome in his button down, opening doors and pulling out your chair. Not to mention the weeks of frustration leading up to your date, trying not to think dirty thoughts whenever he came into your work and purposefully sat in your section.

No matter how hard you tried to keep your head down and focus on your work, your eyes always landed back on him. His rippling arms under his tight golf shirts, the veins in his hands as he swirled his bourbon, the pink hue in his lips when he smirked at you and asked you to dinner after your shift.

Tonight was supposed to be the night you made him want you the way you wanted him. You tried riding him, but you were way too blissed out to keep up the pace. You had collapsed on his chest and when he asked “what do you need?” you couldn’t think of anything sexy to say, only the truth. So you whispered, “I need you to get behind me and go as hard as you can.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice.

Rafe was deeper than you thought possible. He smirked as you braced yourself on the headboard when bunching the sheets between your hands just wasn’t enough, “you’re so big!” you cried, your honesty making him quiver inside you.

“Ya think so?” he coaxed you into continuing.

“Yes- ah!- yes! How are you so deep? It’s soooo good, Rafe!”

Soon your words had melted into whimpers, which broke into actual squeals as you reached you arm behind you, nails scratching at his hard stomach, not even sure what you were reaching for.

You don’t remember what else you said, just that it was loud, your hair messy in your face as you writhed around helplessly in the sheets, coming harder than you ever had. By the time he pulled out, your whole body was trembling with aftershock. Your lips puffy and swollen from being pulled between his teeth and makeup smeared from burying your face into the pillows, which were now streaked black with your mascara.

He kissed your shoulders as he rolled off of you and onto his side of the bed, his own chest rising and falling with desperate pants.

You laid very still, legs like jelly, goosebumps jumping out all over your skin now that the warmth of him was on the other side of his California king.

As your body came back to earth, a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. The room was starkly quiet, your ears ringing from the shrieks you had let out.

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled from between your swollen lips.

“Hmm?” He asked, still reaching for a deep breath that just wasn’t coming.

You wished you had said it louder, not sure you could muster the courage to repeat yourself. Had he not heard you or had he not understood?

“Said ‘msorry” you tried to be clearer but your voice was strained from overuse.

Rafe sat up, confusion and concern flashing across his face.

“Sorry for what?” He asked, his hand reached to comfort you but he pulled back at the last minute, afraid he had done something wrong to cause this reaction.

“For being so extra,” you choked out, “it was just really good.” You turned your neck to hide your shameful blush in the pillows.

Rafe’s worried look faded, giving way to a wide smile, a combo of relief and pride.

“You’re embarrassed?” He flattened his hand over your lower back and rubbed your skin gently, hoping to reassure you.

You just nodded into the pillow and let out a muffled “mhm.” His chest rose with endeared laughter, he couldn’t help it - you were just so cute.

At the sound of his laughter, you turned around to face him, disbelief across your face.

“Don’t laugh at me, Rafe!” You grabbed one of the pillows and whipped it at him, the action only making his laughter grow, his head falling back with delight.

You couldn’t believe he was actually teasing you in your vulnerability. You pulled away from him, reaching for the clothes that had been discarded on the floor so hastily.

“No, wait!” Rafe grabbed your arm and pulled you gently back onto the soft mattress, you could’ve fought him but you let yourself fall, still too drawn to him to resist.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about, princess,” Rafe cooed. He was propped on his elbow over you, basking in the way you looked up at him, all soft and pretty, hair fanned out beneath you and your perfect tits on display just for him.

“Really?” You asked so earnestly he thought his heart might burst.

Rafe bent his head low to place a soft kiss on your collarbone, your nipples hardening with anticipation as the skin of his chest ghosted over them. Even that involuntary response made you worry he’d think you were pathetic.

“It was so fucking hot,” he praised before kissing you again, lower this time. “You make me crazy.”

He hovered over you and your legs opened immediately to allow him to settle between them.

“Do you mean it?” You still couldn’t believe a man this gorgeous could want you so badly, despite feeling him hardening again against your inner thigh.

“Mhm,” Rafe nodded and smiled sweetly up at you, his chin resting on your clavicle, his perfect face looking like it belonged there. “Gonna make you come all night just so I can hear you squeal like that.”

“Rafe, stop!” You giggled, swatting his shoulder.

He chuckled a deep, husky laugh and returned his lips to your skin, swirling his tongue over your nipple, before grazing it with his teeth, making your body shudder helplessly below him.

He smiled warmly against your skin, continuing to worship you, pausing only long enough to say “now be a good girl and thank me again.”

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hi at the risk of sounding needy I’m relatively new to writing smut and feeling unsure about it so if you wanted to give me some honest feedback good or bad that would mean a lot to me hope you liked it xoxo

[menagerofmischief]

shrimp cocktail, cold appetizer, lobster, coca-cola, yes dessert, served by oscar piastri

Dia's Diner Menu

shrimp cocktail rivals to lovers cold appetizer rough sex lobster "I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy" coca-cola somnophillia dessert aftercare

Oscar Piastri x Ferrari!driver!reader

TW: one bed trope, unprotected sex (wrap you willy please), sleep dry humping

WC: 2k

A/N: I enjoyed writing this one a lot. Also I wanted to say I'm so thankful to all of you that sent requests and that I can't wait to write all of them but you'll maybe have to be patient with me because I'm a student and am pretty busy with school. I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one.

Some bigger force, God or karma or fate or whatever else there is, was definitely out to get me. Because this had to be the worst fucking night of my life. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.

Why was this the worst night of my life?

We just made it to Singapore for the upcoming Grand Prix and went straight to our hotel. The whole grid was staying at the same place since it made things more convenient. I go up to the reception to check in and get the key to my room, all but ready to collapse into the mattress and sleep the jet lag off. 

“I’m so sorry Miss,” the receptionist says, tapping her fingers against the keyboard, glancing up at me every few seconds. Finally she looks up, her expression apologetic. “It seems there was a mistake with the booking and we double booked your room.”

I fight off the urge to groan and roll my eyes, instead plastering a smile on my face. “It’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal. Just put me in whatever room is available.”

She makes a face, looking down at the computer again and then returning her gaze to mine. “I really am sorry but there are no other rooms available right now.”

Now I really did groan. “Fantastic. Can I know who the other person occupying the room will be?”

Before the receptionist had the chance to answer, my worst nightmare in human form came up to the desk, standing right next to me. “Hello. I’m here to check in - it’s under Oscar Piastri.”

The woman - I finally glanced at her name tag, seeing her name was Alice - looked between us, then down at the computer before looking at us again. “Sir, as I was just explaining to the lady here, the hotel double booked your room by accident.”

“It’s fine just put me in a -”

“There’s no available rooms.” I cut him off. “Just the one.”

Oscar looked at me, narrowing his eyes. McLaren’s golden boy, affectionately nicknamed ‘the polite cat’ by the fans was the biggest thorn in my side for a long while now. Everything started back in F2 with our on track rivalry which grew with each race. Then I signed into F1, fulfilling my childhood dreams of racing in red and thought I escaped him. I thought too soon apparently because after my announcement post, his followed soon and I was once again back on track with him.

Did I have a reason to hate him? Absolutely! Was it awfully petty and possibly over-dramatic? Very likely. It was my first race in F2, I was about to finish P2 it was amazing. Then he crashed into me and drove us both into the wall, causing us both to DNF and lose out on a podium.

We have hated each other ever since.

“It’s okay - we’ll share.” Oscar’s voice brought me out of my thoughts, quickly turning my head to look at him.

“What!?”

Oscar took the key from Alice and dangled it in front of me, a smirk on his face. “I said we’re gonna be bunking.” He pulled the handle of his suitcase, “Come on then, Y/n”

✿ ✿ ✿

“You stay on your side of the room,” I said, putting the chair in the middle of the room to make it a half marker. “And I’ll stay on mine.” The one queen size bed would definitely be a problem as well, but one I would mention later.

“And how are you gonna go the bathroom since it’s on my side?” He asked, his voice holding a teasing tone.

“Bathroom if free ground, hallway too” I stated, crossing my arms over my chest.

Oscar’s gaze dropped down, stayed for a few seconds and then his eyes met mine again. He hummed, “And if I wanna open the window then what? Since it’s on your side.”

“Don’t act smart,” I told him. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“You wound me!” He gasped, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Shame it’s not fatal.”

✿ ✿ ✿

This was definitely the weirdest night of my life.

With only one bed in the room, no couch and neither of us willing to put our body in uncomfortable positions sleeping on the chair or on the floor, night before practice - Oscar and I made an agreement to share the bed.

One of the extra blankets from the closet was bunched up and put down the middle of the bed separating the two us. Not that it served much purpose considering that it was kicked down and off the bed while we were sleeping.

I woke up, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the dark and then I felt it. The slow, yet desperately feral rolls, the pressure and the pleasure. I had to press a hand against my mouth to stop myself from moaning, taking in deep harsh breaths through my nose.

I came to a realization about three things, so goes:

Oscar had moved a bigger part of his body onto my side of the bed.

He had pulled me close and caged me in his arms sometimes during the night.

He was grinding his very much hard cock into me -  in his sleep.

My cheeks were on fire and it felt like the rest of my body was too. The pajamas, which I purposely picked out because of how light they were, felt suffocating now.

I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was done, my body moving on its own. One leg pushing slightly forward, opening just enough space for Oscar’s hips to chase mine and my ass slowly barely grinding back into him.

I was enjoying this much more than I should have and it was wrong. God, it was so wrong. But when his erection was rubbing so perfectly against me, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I was wet, I knew I was. I could feel how soaked my panties had gotten and the uncomfortable feel of my slick underwear did not escape me. As the pressure increased I couldn’t help but let out a moan.

The noise felt deafening in the silent room and my eyes widened. Oscar’s body stilled and my breath caught in my throat, the dread of having woken him with my moans taking over me.

A moment passed, two moments passed. Then Oscar’s hands tightened around my body, pulling me even closer to him, my ass pressed just against the outline of his dick. One of his hands moved down my stomach, dipping into the waistband of my sleeping shorts and going straight down into my panties.

He ran a finger through my folds, coating it in my slick and it took everything in me not to moan. “You’re fucking dripping,” his voice in my ear made me freeze. Awake afterall. “This wet from me humping you? And here I thought you hated me.”

The pad of his finger touched my clit, a gasp falling from my lips at the pleasurable feeling. “Did you enjoy me rutting into you while I was sleeping, you dirty dirty girl?” He added more pressure, rubbing circles on my clit and this time I didn’t hold my moans back. “Woke up halfway through, when you started grinding your ass on me like a bitch in heat. You seemed so into it, I thought I’d just keep going.”

“Wasn’t,” I whispered.

“What was that?” He growled into my ear.

“Wasn’t grinding on you,” I said, through gritted teeth.

His fingers pinched my clit and my whole body surged forward, mouth falling open to let out a loud moan. “Don’t lie,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, you will.”

Oscar pulled his fingers out of my panties, making me whine at the loss of friction on my clit. His chuckle vibrated through the room. He got up onto his knees on the bed, arms coming forward to grab my shoulders, and pulled me roughly so I was laying on my back.

I couldn’t help but look at him above me. His eyes were full of lust, pupils blown wide and cheeks red. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, he looked absolutely ethereal. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, fingers hooking into the waistband of my sleeping shorts.

I held his gaze, a shaky breath falling from my mouth. “Don’t stop.”

In one move he pulled down both my shorts and my panties, throwing them behind him without a care. Then he took off his own shorts, followed by his boxers - that ended up being thrown somewhere too. He pulled me up enough to take my top off, and then pushed me down again, leaving me completely bare. 

Oscar leaned over me, his mouth drawn in a smirk, his breath hot on my face. “Tell me not to kiss you.”

“Kiss me,” I whispered. He didn’t waste a second, as soon as the words were out of my mouth he was surging forward, his lips pressing harshly against mine, tongue pushing into my mouth. He pulled slightly back, my lip caught before his teeth and he gently bit down, making me whine into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” I panted into his mouth. “Please just -”

I didn’t get to finish what I was saying as he pushed himself into me fully in one go, making me scream. His hand pressed against my mouth, muffling the noises I was making. “Do you want to wake the whole hotel up?” He asked as he began thrusting, pulling himself out until only the tic was still in me and then forcefully pushing back in again. “Some people came here to sleep, not to listen to you moaning like a whore on my cock.”

His other hand went between us to rub my clit. I was practically sobbing as he worked his fingers in fast circles around my clit while roughly thrusting into me. My vision was blurred with tears that were spilling from the corners on my eyes.

Oscar’s hand moved only a little, leaving room for me to speak but close enough for my lips to brush against his palm with each word. “Cum,” I babbled. “Gonna cum! Oscar, please!”

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice hoarse. “Gonna cum for me like a good little slut? Go on then - cum”

I came with a moan, wrapping my legs around his waist and caging him in. Oscar fucked me trough my orgasm, his own following. He twitched inside of me before cumming, painting my walls and making me whine at how full I felt.

He pulled out of me slowly and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. After a moment he returned with a wet, probably warm, towel in his hands. He kneeled on the bed and gently spread my legs with his hands.

“Fuck,” Oscar groaned. “I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy.” His fingers dipped to collect some of his cum which had spilled out of me and was slowly dripping towards my ass, and pushed it back into me, causing me to gasp.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead and somehow my cheeks burned ever hotter. After he gently cleaned me up and terrorized me to drink water, he laid down in bed next to me and pulled my body into his, arms wrapping around me.

“Are you finally going to let me take you out to dinner?” He asked, his voice husky and breath hot against the side of my face.

I hummed, my eyes barely open and already feeling sleepy. “Don’t crash into me while I’m winning on Sunday and we’ll see.”

“That was one time!”

I chuckled, placing my hands over his hand on my stomach. “Yeah, I’ll let you take me out to dinner.”

Believe it or not this might have actually turned out to be one of the best nights of my life.

[thegoogoomuckkk]

NOW PLAYING

ADVANTAGE

Starring: Hiromi Higuruma, Shiu Kong + Toji Fushiguro, Shoko Ieiri, Sukuna Ryomen, Takuma Ino

You’re just so naive. . .it’s nearly impossible for them not to take advantage of you

Warnings! fem!reader, Major dubcon for all of them (the reader is “dumb,” that’s the whole point,  but also aware of the situation, if that makes sense, BUT EVERYONE INVOLVED IS A LEGAL ADULT 18+), oral (m receiving), throat fucking, double penetration, anal, fingering, size kink, minimal prep, cherry popping, oral (f receiving), dumbification

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Hiromi Higuruma: Court Reporter <3 

Hiromi made it a rule not to date anyone from work: not the other lawyers, not the paralegals, & certainly not his secretaries. So he wasn’t concerned at all when the court sent you to be his personal reporter, keeping track of all of his cases & prosecutions. In fact, he was thankful; finding someone to be there to monitor all his cases was so helpful. 

It wasn’t until you called him in utter distress, saying your computer had crashed & you’d lost all the notes for his most recent case, that he was rethinking his little rule. You were just so apologetic, so sorry that he couldn’t help but feel terrible. He told you he’d meet you at his office, & there you were, teary-eyed & drowning in your apologies, blubbering about how he just can’t fire you, you need this job. & he’s wiping your tears, atypically kind, sitting down next to you & holding your hands, saying that everything’s gonna be okay, trying so hard not to stare down your shirt, also avoiding eye contact because how come you look so fucking hot with tears & mascara streaming down your face? 

He’s sure he’s lost his mind when he cups your face, looking down at you, & says, “I can think of a way you could show me that you’re sorry. That’s all it’ll take, & then it’ll be all fixed, water under the bridge,” & you’re nodding so enthusiastically. Anything, you’ll do anything to prove you’re sorry, even sit down on your knees & work his rock hard cock in your tiny manicured hands, even loll your tongue out & suck the tip, teasing him, even cup his balls & slide your mouth off his dick with a resounding ‘pop,’ asking “like this?” ‘Cause you just want to make him feel good, leave no room for any doubts that you’re terribly, awfully sorry about what happened. Let his tip kiss the back of your throat ‘til it hurts, ‘til your tears start up again, ‘til you’re gagging around it & he’s fucking your face carelessly, letting your drool fall down your chin onto his office floor. 

Holding your head against the base of his cock while he cums down your throat, listening to you whine & try to pathetically push on his thigh ‘cause it’s too much & you can’t breathe. But he accepts your apology & assures you that if anything like this ever happens again, he’s more than willing to let you show him you’re sorry. 

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Shiu Kong + Toji Fushiguro: Client’s Daughter <3

Shiu & Toji made it a goal not to get too personal with clients. All they really needed was a name & location. Anything further might be helpful, but is ultimately unnecessary. Shiu drives, Toji kills, they live happily ever after. But some of their high-rolling clients like to make a day out of it; invite them to dinner or some expensive VIP only nightclub, & throw money in their face. The problem with this was that it meant the job was going to be difficult, more difficult than usual. So they usually turn those assholes down; the cash is hard to say no to, but the last thing they need is to get arrested or get involved in some underground crime scene. The underground crime scene they’re already involved in is plenty of trouble for them, they certainly don’t need another one. 

But when some rich CEO comes sniffing around for them, offering them a large sum to take care of a psycho stalker that’s after his daughter, certainly they’ll take the job. It’s what a good person would do, after all, & when you come to them crying about how he followed you home, they’re sure to comfort you because what a fucking asshole, they’ll make sure to make him suffer, & “there’s no need to cry, sweet girl, we’ll keep ya safe,” Shiu grins, wide & smug. They’re looking at each other shit-eating, like they know exactly how to comfort you. 

You’re a little confused when they guide you to Shiu’s bedroom, saying you’ll be safe here, that they’ll protect you. 

“B-but what about my da—” They laugh at you. 

“What about him, sweetheart? He’s not here right now, is he? Don’t you worry your pretty little head, you weren’t made for such hard thinking.” That’s what Toji says to you as he slips his hands under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it down to your knees with your pink panties, too, & he groans at the sight of your slick covering your thighs. 

“Already wet for us, huh pretty girl? Jus’ wanted us to come fuck you, s’that right?” Shiu snickers, kneeling down on the bed in front of you, unbuckling his pants. 

& you’re so good for them as they stretch you out, Shiu fucking your cunt all soft & gentle, draping you hair behind your ears, kissin’ away your tears, whispering about how pretty you are, how sweet you are while Toji fucks your virgin ass, groaning at how you suck him in, smacking your ass & watching it recoil & turn red as you’re crying about how it “f-feels weird.” But obviously it can’t be that bad when you sucking them both in cumming around them in a matter of minutes. 

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Shoko Ieiri: Patient <3

Shoko saw lots of patients; sorcerers were dangerous people who led dangerous lives, it was common for them to get hurt. She wouldn’t say she picks favorites, but it was your third time visiting her in just one month, & she can’t say she’s upset about it. A cute little thing like you just needs to be taken care of by someone capable like her. 

“Does Yaga send you on like ten missions a week, or what?” she muses, eyes downcast on your stitched arm. She was applying antiseptic, & then she’d send you on your way. Or so you think. 

“Haha, not really,” you giggle. “I guess I’m just pretty clumsy.” & your stupid grin boils her blood. Why on earth would Yaga & Gojo think someone so frail & innocent could be a jujutsu sorcerer? “Thanks for the stitches, Doctor,” you joke, moving to sit up after the bandage is carefully placed. She holds your arm in place. 

“I’m not quite done,” she murmurs, ushering you to sit back down. 

You give her a look of confusion. “But I’m not hurt anywhere else, I promise.” 

She shakes her head. “I know, but it’s been a while since you’ve had a checkup; we’re supposed to do them annually.” A lie. You had a checkup only six months ago, & there’s no further regulations. But why would you know that? & of course, a doctor would never lie to you. . .at least not Shoko, right? So you lie down flat on the table like she instructs, comply—albeit a little reluctantly—when she motions for you to lift your waist so she can pull off your clothes, you let him spread your legs apart, but it’s when she’s running her fingers along your inner thighs that you say, “I didn’t h-have to do this for my last exam. . .?” 

“Just gotta be thorough, you know? Try not to squirm, ‘kay? Gotta stay still for me,” she says, thumbs spreading apart your pussy, which is already getting wet for her. & you try your best, you really do, to stay still, but it’s so hard not to squirm under her penetrating gaze, with how focused she is on your drooling cunt, you’re so embarrassed, almost inclined to apologize, but she doesn’t mind. In fact, it makes the exam easier when you’re aroused. 

“Sh-shoko, what-what’re you doing?” you whine, when she presses the soft pad of her thumb against your clit, rubbing small, centered circles on it, enough to really make you squirm. But she grabs your thigh, holds it down on the examination table, & her grip is commandeering. 

“Aw, you’re just gushing for me, pretty girl. Why are you this wet, huh? Were you thinkin’ about this when you came in here? Thinkin’ about me playing with your little pussy?” she sneers. She’s so mean about it, pressing on your clit enough to make you feel good, but not enough stimulation for anything else. 

“N-no, promise, Shoko, didn’t think about it, promise,” you whine pathetically, practically panting, which is probably true; the idea of Shoko teasing your pussy with her skilled fingers didn’t occur to you before now, but now that it was happening, you can’t imagine why you hadn’t thought of it before.

You whine pitifully when she sticks just one long finger in your pulsing cunt, shushing you when you cry about it being too deep. “S’just one finger, pretty, you can’t take it?” Of course you can, you’ll take it for her. Even when she adds another one & you’re writhing in her grip, losing your sense of rationality. & you’re whimpering & drooling & moaning & panting as she scissors you open with her fingers, hitting that special spot deep inside you ‘til you cum so hard around her fingers, whining her name the whole time. 

Needless to say, you pass the examination with flying colors. 

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Sukuna Ryomen: Maid <3

There’s no manipulation or convincing with Sukuna; Uraume hired you for a reason. Sukuna has maids & then he has maids, if you catch the drift. Seems like you didn’t, though, because you’re confused when he’s requested your presence in his personal chambers for some special cleaning that needs done. 

“B-but I’m a kitchen maid, my lord,” you mumble, averting your gaze because he’s just so big & intimidating & you don’t know how to act around him. He’s ushering you into the bedroom & pulling you down to sit on his lap, mouthing at your neck like some immature teenager; all the while you’re whining about how unprofessional this is, how you’re a maid, not a concubine, & more importantly. . . “I’m–I haven’t ever—” It takes him a second because he’s mostly ignoring your pathetic attempts at stopping him, but when he catches on, he just smiles like an asshole. 

“If you think I care, woman, you’re wrong,” he sneers, baring his teeth at you as he continues to suck on the pulse point of your neck, working your shirt up & your pants down, groping your boobs, pinching your nipples ‘til you’re crying out ‘cause why does it hurt & feel so good at the same time? Sticks his hand in your panties & chuckles when he notices how wet you are.

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he says, teeth nipping at your skin. 

“I-I am, my lord,” & god if you keep calling him that he’s gonna bed you over on this bed & fuck you raw ‘til you pass out. But somewhere in the deep recesses of his curse heart, he feels a little sorry that he’s about to stick his massive cock in you & it’s probably gonna hurt, but of course he gets even harder just thinkin’ about that. So he fingers you open while you cry at the foreign sensation. It doesn’t necessarily hurt yet, but it’s new & a little weird as you feel it build up in your stomach, whimpering ‘bout it until you’re cumming on his fingers. 

He doesn’t waste any time pushing your face into his pillows & pulling your robes the rest of the way off, hiking your hips up to meet his until you’re barely even on the bed, lining his cock up with your little hole & slowly pushing in, inch by tantalizing inch. 

He fucks you like that until you’re pliant & drowsy, unable to take anymore of his teasing ‘cause you’re head is zeroed in on his fat cock & you’re creaming around the base of it for the nth time. “Hurts, Sukuna, it hurts, s’too big, you’re too big,” you’re babbling & he’s loving it ‘cause of course it’s too big stupid girl, he thinks, holding his hand against your tummy, feeling his cock push against the soft skin. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Takuma Ino: Nanami’s daughter <3

You love your dad’s mentee, Takuma. He’s just so nice to you, never makes fun of you or teases you, always compliments you & makes you feel so good about yourself. 

So when it’s raining so hard outside & it’s dark & he says that it’s not safe to drive, of course you stay at his house; he’s such a good friend, always looking out for you. & no way he’s gonna make you sleep on his couch, not when he has a perfectly good bed in the other room that’s big enough for two. You’re a little confused, not sure why he’s so insistent on sharing a bed with you, but you go along anyway because Takuma’s your best friend. 

He reassures you that Nanami won’t care about you staying over, & more importantly, that he doesn’t have to know that you let Takuma eat you out with you face all smushed in his sheets, that you let him tongue fuck you over & over, cumming all over his tongue until you’re on the verge of passing out, whereas Takuma’s just getting started. He knows you’re tired, all worn out, so he’ll fuck you nice & soft ‘til you’re dizzy from the pleasure & you’re head’s just not working right, working a finger into your ass ‘cause he’s a little mean like that, telling you that all the best girls take it up the ass, & that next time you’re pussy is tired & overwhelmed from cumming so much, he’ll put his dick in your other hole instead, he promises it won’t hurt, he’ll take such good care of you, just like you deserve. You don’t gotta do anything, just let him make you feel good. He loves it, how smart & capable Nanami could have such a ditzy & sweet daughter who’ll let Takuma fuck her whenever she wants. “‘Cause what your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him, sweetheart.” So you let him put his cock in your ass, fat tears falling down your plump cheeks, wriggling in his tight hold ‘cause it feels so different. Not bad, but not necessarily good either, but he praises you so much for being his good girl, for taking it so well for him. “So proud of you sweet girl, you’re so good for me, always doin’ just what I ask.” You don’t need to be smart or quick, Takuma likes you just the way you are.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

no, I am not ok in the head. . .thank u for asking though <3

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for anon!

Request: alien x orc x human with human reader and NSFW please. Something with some angst and fluff mixed in.

A/N: Sorry for all the "alien boyfriend" and "orc boyfriend", brain wasn't braining today. This has a fair amount of hurt/comfort, enjoy!

Intergalactic idiots

Alien x orc x fem!reader | angst with happy ending, body worship, oral sex

You are anxiously waiting next to the ER door when your orc boyfriend walks in with the saddest face you’ve ever seen. “What is it?” You ask immediately, knowing well that for him to be alone, for him to have called for you to be at the hospital when they arrived… something must be very, very wrong.

“There was an accident,” he announced, looking at the floor. And your alien boyfriend is nowhere to be found, so it must be something bad with him. Something happened and your heart is beating fast and hard, making you want to scream.

“What? What happened? Where is he? Is he hurt?” You ask in a quick succession, feeling like the weight of the world falling over you at the thought of losing him. Losing either of them, but right now you can’t process the fact that he could have been hurt, too. You can only process the fact that your alien boyfriend is not there, and that means he’s been hurt.

He sighs heavily and lets out a teary: “He- He got shot.” As soon as the words leave his mouth your tears are running down your face.

“You promised! You promised you would take care of him!” You scream at him, you are hitting his chest with your fists, not really hurting him but needing to let out your frustration and pain.

He cries, too, his body sagging as he lets you hit him. “I- I know. I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed both of you.” If you were in another moment of your life, if your anxiety wasn’t so high, you could have said something, that it wasn’t his fault, that he had nothing to worry about and you were glad he was okay… But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

You could only imagine the worst and your body froze in place as you ask: “Can- can I see him?”

“Not yet, darling, the doctors are working on him,” his voice soft and placating, but you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to hear him talk at all, your brain wants to blame someone and he’s there. He was there when your alien boyfriend got shot…

You don’t even realize how his hands are bloody and his face is stained with tears. You don’t realize his hands are trembling and his body is scratched in a thousand places. You sit there in silence and don’t accept his hand when he offers comfort. You two fall silent, sitting next to each other but barely moving as the time ticks.

Time passes, you don’t know how much, but when a naga doctor appears, you are on your feet and walking to her instantly. Your orc boyfriend follows, but you don’t mind anything at all, you only need to know he’s alright. “Is he okay?”

And she says the most precious words: “He will be.”

It takes a whole week for your alien boyfriend to be back home. An awful week where you don’t talk to your orc boyfriend, you barely see him at all. You don’t sleep together, you don’t go together to the hospital at all, and when your alien gets back home, you two walk awkwardly around each other until he gets tired of your shit.

You are organizing the wardrobe when your orc boyfriend walks in and you don’t say anything. Your alien boyfriend realizes instantly: “What is it between you two? You barely spend time in the same room, you are not touching each other. Or me for the matter,” he adds the last part just as a joke, but you flinch at his words.

You let out in a short breath, your heart beating fast as everything that has happened comes crashing into you. You feel bad, you feel so bad, but you don’t know how to fix it. You acted like a really bad girlfriend, you were shitty to him, and you don’t know what to do about it. And now your alien wants to talk about it and you can’t avoid it anymore.

“We… We are okay,” you let out, the lie tasting like ashes in your mouth. Your orc boyfriend is looking at you with a pained expression, and you swallow around the knot in your throat.

Your alien boyfriend sits on the bed and calls you out: “Bullshit. What happened?” He asks, looking between you two.

“I failed you,” your orc boyfriend says and your heart hurts for him, you want to go to him and hug him until the pain goes away, but… but you don’t know if he would welcome that, and it hurts more than it should.

Your alien boyfriend looks shocked. “You what? No, you didn’t. You think you did?” He points at your orc and he shrugs, and then points at you. “And you think he did?” You shrug, not wanting to answer, either. “You are both stupid as fuck. Come here,” he orders.

“But the wounds…” You try to argue with him, but he looks at you with those eyes that drive you in instantly, making you shiver.

“Come. Here.” He repeats. Both of you obey, walking to him like he’s pulling invisible strings.

You sit next to him, your orc boyfriend sits on the other side, and you both look at him expectantly. “You are the glue that keeps us together, you know that,” your orc boyfriend finally says.

“No, I’m not. What keeps us together is how much we love each other, and the fact that you two have been walking around eggshells around me and each other because of something neither of us is at fault in is incredibly stupid.” You two remain silent, knowing ful well he’s right. Your eyes are full of tears and you feel about to burst into sobs, but the comforting presence of your boyfriends keeps you controlled. For about two seconds before he says: “And what’s even worse, you two haven’t been touching my dick or your own parts and it shows.” You laugh between your tears, feeling the knot in your throat slowly dissolving as you hit his arm without any strength. “Ouch! Hitting the wounded alien, what a mean human we have here…” He jokes more, making your tears run free within your laughter. “Oh sweetie, don’t cry…” He lets out, his tone going soft.

And then your orc boyfriend is looking at you with a panicked expression. “Don’t cry, darling, please, you know it drives me insane to see you cry…” You know it does, he gets crazy and panics every time you cry because he doesn’t know what to do, how to act, tears really scare him.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, trying to sniffle and making the most awful sound as you start to sob uncontrollably.

“Shit,” they both say at the same time, their arms coming around your body and getting you in an alien-orc sandwich. You cry more while they hug you tightly between them.

“I thought you were going to die,” you sob. “I was so worried.”

Your alien boyfriend kisses your forehead. “I know, sweetie, I know… But I’m okay. I swear.” He looks over your shoulder and orders to your orc boyfriend: “Tell her I’m going to be okay.”

“I- He… I-” He starts but can’t finish the sentence, a single tear running down his face and making your heart squeeze painfully again, another ugly sob escaping.

“You too?” The alien says, exasperated.

“I was worried, too, you asshole! I saw you bleed, I held my hands to your bleeding form as you passed out. I was scared shitless that you were going to die and it would be my fault.” You listen as he explains and you feel like the worst asshole in the world. He suffered, too. He was worried, too. And you acted like a jackass and made it even worse for him. And for you. You denied yourself of the comfort you thought you didn’t deserve and hurt him in the process. What a shitty girlfriend.

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t nobody’s fault.” Your alien boyfriend explains, now rubbing his hands in both of your backs, trying to calm you down. “Now come on, kiss each other and say you are sorry for being stupid,” he jokes. “It’s not a suggestion.”

“I’m sorry,” you both say at the same time, a teary giggle escaping from your mouths as you kiss each other sweetly.

But it soon becomes frantic and passionate. For someone used to kiss and fuck every day, spending more than a week without any kind of action has been a pain for all of you, and it shows. You hate that your alien boyfriend was right. He’s going to be insufferable about it, you can already tell.

You break apart and look at him, lying there with a hand inside his pants, rubbing up and down. “You are a pervert,” you joke, licking your lips and looking at his covered erection.

“Oh, I know… And you are, too.” You blush, looking down because you know he’s right. “Now, are we going to fuck or what?” He let out bluntly.

You look at him, and think about the literal hole in his side that is still healing. “But you are wounded.”

“My dick works fine,” he says, lowering his pants enough to show you his pretty white dick, already glistening with precum.

You think about it, you want to tell him no, you can’t have sex, but you feel desperate. You feel needy, you need to touch them and be reminded they are okay. They are alive. And so are you. “You… You can’t move,” you finally said. It should be okay if he doesn’t move, right?

“I can’t?” He says, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

You both say in unison: “No.”

You lean against your orc’s chest and whisper against his ear: “Should we tie him down?” He nods. “You take the balls and I take the dick?” You add, bemusedly. He pulls back and nods, a big smile framed by his tusks. You lean down and kiss him until you are breathless.

“That’s not fair, you are forgetting about me.” You look at him and he’s pouting, his big black eyes looking into your soul with a glint of arousal mixed with some desperation. You shiver, but say nothing as you take your orc’s belt and tie it around your alien’s hands and the headboard, immobilizing him. “And you say I’m the kinky one?” He asks between laughs as he tries to move his hands and realizes you tied it more securely than he expected. You start unbuttoning his sleep shirt as he struggles, your orc boyfriend taking his pants off slowly. “Wait, I’m going to be the only one naked here?” He asks, still trying to break free and earning himself an annoyed look as you both stop what you are doing to look at him.

“Yes,” you say at the same time.

He stops struggling and looks between you two, frowning without eyebrows, which makes him look kinda funny. “That’s not fai-” He doesn’t get to say anything else before your orc boyfriend wraps his lips around the tip of his alien dick.

He breaks into a big moan as you start kissing your way down his torso, being very careful about his side wound. You kiss the edges of the bandage around it and keep going down, your tongue tracing the ridges of his torso as he shivers. You keep going down, not forgetting to kiss even an inch of his beautiful torso until you are face to face with your orc. He has his lips wrapped around the tip of your alien’s dick, not even doing much, just sucking like he’s a lollipop he’s enjoying. You ignored the struggle before, but hearing your alien whimpering and groaning as if he’s being tortured turns you on so much you can’t stop from slipping a hand inside your panties.

Your orc boyfriend realizes first: “Don’t you dare touch that pussy, that’s mine to please,” he growls, pulling back from the dick he was sucking. You smile at him cheekily and peck on his lips, rapidly ignoring him in favor of taking his place.

He grumbles something and you feel his hand slipping next to yours as he goes down and takes the alien balls in his mouth, rolling them around messily. You can only hear his filthy sounds and your alien’s whimpers. Soon, you are groaning around his shaft too, the orc’s dexterous fingers rubbing your clit in the most amazing way possible and making your brain go blank for a second, your groans joining the symphony of sex in the room.

“I’m about… I’m gonna…” You hear the warning over your head before you feel his dick opening and the little tentacles holding your face down as he comes in your mouth.

The first time was a surprise, but you’ve come to love when his weird dicks does alien things, it’s exhilarating to know he can hold you down in more than one way. But at that moment, as he releases inside your mouth and you keep sucking, your tongue lapping at him as your orc boyfriend sucks his balls like they are his favorite candy, you feel hotter than ever, your pussy so wet around the orc’s fingers you are two thrusts away from exploding.

And then you feel it, the flicker of your orc’s finger against your clit and the burning sensation in your lower abdomen as the orgasm takes you by surprise, your mouth occupied as you groan around alien dick and fall apart around orc fingers. Your brain short circuits for a second, ad your vision blacks and you can’t have any coherent thoughts as your orgasms takes over your body and brain. It never ceases to amaze you how great the sex has been since you three started dating, who would have thought thruple sex would be the best of your life?

When you come down from your orgasm and the alien dick-tacles (dick-tentacles you know) in your mouth finally release you, you fall flat against the mattress as your orc boyfriend laughs over you both for being fucked out and boneless. “Are we good now?” He asks.

“What? No!” Your alien exclaims, surprising you. You look at him with a question in your eyes. “He hasn’t come yet,” he explains, looking at your orc with a smirk on his face. He blushes in the prettiest shade of green and you want nothing more but to maul him… sexually.

“I can fix that,” you say, throwing yourself at him and trusting he would catch you. He does, and you kiss him senseless, your hand reaching for his erection.

You hear some struggling and then your alien is pouting again. “Is nobody going to untie me?” He says in the most whiny tone ever.

You two break apart and look at him with a smile as you say in unison: “No,” and laugh loudly. He grumbles some more as you two kiss again, your hand rubbing his erection.

“I regret forcing you to solve your communication problems,” he lets out grumpily. But you know it’s a lie. He’s smiling big as he struggles against the restrains and you jerk your orc’s boyfriend and he watches.

Everything would be alright.

[paddockletters]

shattered hearts | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: you break free from a toxic relationship, embarking on an exhilarating journey of self-discovery

warning: emotional abuse, infidelity, toxic relationship, angst

author's note:this was hard, so hard omg... as I always say, english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I met Lando when we were barely out of high school. Back then, he was just a kid with dreams and a mischievous smile that made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered. For a while, I believed that was true. But as the years went by, I learned that Lando's smile wasn’t mine alone—it was shared with others, stolen moments behind my back. And somehow, I was always the one left picking up the pieces.

Our relationship was a whirlwind, the couple everyone thought would either crash or last forever. We did crash—over and over again. But somehow, Lando always found a way to convince me to come back.

“I’m sorry,” he’d say, voice low and pleading after one of his inevitable affairs. “But you know you’re my number one, right? None of them matter like you do.”

He’d wrap his arms around me, pull me close, and somehow, I’d believe him. I had to because after eight years of being with him, I didn’t know who I was without him.

The first time he cheated, I was devastated. It was in his early F1 days, just as his fame started to sink in. He swore it was a one-time thing that it didn’t mean anything. And like a fool, I believed him. But it didn’t stop. It never stopped. There was always another girl, another excuse, another lie wrapped up in the promise that I was still the "main one."

One particular night, I remember the argument that nearly broke us for good. Lando had been out late, and I found out through a mutual friend that he had been seen with another girl. Again. When he came home, reeking of alcohol and guilt, I confronted him.

“You said you were going to change, Lando!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “You promised me, over and over again, but nothing ever changes!”

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this? You always come back. You always forgive me,” he shot back, arms crossed, his face a mask of irritation.

His words stung like a slap to the face. I wanted to scream, to leave right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because a part of me still loved him, or maybe it was the idea of him—the boy I met before the fame, before the lies.

As the years rolled on, our friends saw the cracks. One night during a get-together at a bar, I tried to put on a brave face. I thought maybe if I acted normal, I could convince myself everything was fine. But when Jess pulled me aside, her expression serious, I knew I couldn’t hide anymore.

“Why do you keep letting him treat you like this?” she asked, frustration evident in her voice. “You deserve so much better, and he’s just going to keep doing this until you realize it.”

“Maybe he’ll change. I can’t just throw away eight years,” I replied defensively. “We have a history.”

“You mean a history of him cheating on you? You have to stop putting up with this, or you’re going to lose yourself,” she insisted, shaking her head.

I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. I just wanted to believe that things would get better. That Lando would see how much I cared and finally choose me over everyone else.

Our mutual friends began to pick sides. Some supported me, while others were loyal to Lando. It was suffocating, a constant tug-of-war that made everything feel so much worse. I felt more isolated than ever, even when surrounded by people.

Then there was the jealousy. Lando was incredibly possessive, especially with his fellow drivers. During one race weekend, I was talking to Charles, who had just finished his session. Lando walked in, and his eyes darkened.

“Why are you always chatting up the other drivers?” he snapped, pulling me aside as Charles walked away, giving us a questioning look.

“Because they’re my friends, Lando! Just because you’re in F1 doesn’t mean I can’t talk to anyone else. You’re not my warden,” I shot back, feeling the anger rise in my chest.

“Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You know how it looks,” he hissed, jaw clenched, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I knew he was being unreasonable, but I was too exhausted to fight back. Our friends watched the tension build, hoping to intervene. I overheard Max once whisper to Lando.

“You need to chill, mate. You’re pushing her away.”

But Lando always had an excuse for everything, often deflecting blame onto me.

“You just don’t understand how this world works!” he’d shout, leaving me feeling small and defeated.

The cycle continued, and I found myself in the same painful arguments over and over. One night, after he came home late from a party, I had finally reached my breaking point.

“Do you even care about how I feel?” I shouted, my voice echoing through our apartment. “You’re always out with other girls! How am I supposed to trust you?”

“I told you, you’re the main one! None of them matter!” he retorted, but his words felt hollow to me.

We spent that night in silence, and I knew I had to make a decision. I just didn’t know how to let go.

The more time passed, the more I began to distance myself from Lando. Therapy helped. I began to see the truth behind his words and actions. The way he manipulated me, made me feel guilty for his mistakes. The way he made it seem like I was the one at fault for staying, like I was to blame for the pain he caused me.

During one therapy session, I shared my frustrations.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back to him. He’s hurt me so many times, and I just can’t let go.”

The therapist asked me one simple question: “Do you love him, or are you just scared of being without him?”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know the answer.

One evening after another brutal fight, I finally left. For good this time. I packed my bags while he watched, silent for once. Maybe he thought I’d come back, just like I always did. But this time was different. I walked out the door, leaving behind eight years of memories, both good and bad.

The nights were long and lonely, and I often found myself thinking about the happy moments we had. One flashback struck me particularly hard: it was the first time he had taken me to the paddock during a race weekend, and we laughed like kids as he showed me around.

“Can you believe this is my life now?” he had said, beaming with pride. “I never would have thought I’d be racing in F1.”

“I always knew you could do it,” I replied, squeezing his hand.

But now, those memories felt tainted, and I needed to focus on myself. It wasn’t easy. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering if I had made the right decision. But with time, and with the help of my therapist, I started to heal. I began to see that I deserved better, that I deserved someone who would love me the way I had always wanted Lando to.

One evening, after finally leaving Lando for good, I found myself at a racing event with friends. It was a chance to distract myself from the whirlwind of emotions I was navigating. As I wandered through the paddock, I was drawn to the sound of laughter.

“Are you lost, or just overwhelmed by all this?” a smooth voice asked. I turned to see Pato O'Ward, the charming IndyCar driver, grinning at me. His eyes sparkled with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of something hopeful.

“I guess a little bit of both,” I replied, smiling back.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” he offered, his energy contagious. As we walked through the paddock, he shared stories about his racing experiences and the thrill of competing. It felt so refreshing to be around someone who was passionate and genuine, without the weight of expectations or drama.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself spending more time with Pato. He was everything I had needed—funny, respectful, and utterly devoted. He listened to me, understood my past, and never once made me feel like I was in a competition for his attention.

One night, after a thrilling race, he took me to a quiet spot overlooking the track. “You know,” he said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about how important it is to find someone who truly sees you. I see you, and I want to be that person.”

His words resonated deep within me, filling the void Lando had left. In that moment, I knew I had found something special with Pato, something I had longed for but never thought I could have.

Meanwhile, Lando had his own set of problems. He was still juggling relationships, using his charm to keep people around while juggling jealousy over his fellow drivers. I heard from our mutual friends that he was still stuck in the same toxic patterns, always in and out of relationships, always claiming that I was the one who got away.

I remember a race weekend when Charles and Lando got into an argument. I was watching from the sidelines with Pato when Charles approached me, concern etched on his face.

“Are you okay? I know things with Lando have been… complicated,” he said, his gaze shifting to Lando, who was across the paddock, still fuming.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve moved on,” I assured him, but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

Later that evening, I got a message from Lando, who had obviously overheard the chatter.

“I know you’re happy with him, but you’re still mine. You always come back to me, remember?”

It took everything in me not to respond. I had a new life now, a new partner who respected me and didn’t cheat. Lando’s words were just echoes of the past.

Fast forward to our wedding day. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my veil, my heart racing with excitement. Pato had become my rock, my partner in every sense of the word. I knew this was the right choice, and my heart was finally at peace.

Then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lando.

“I heard you’re getting married. Just wanted to say, I hope you’re happy. But I still think about you. We could’ve had it all, you know.”

I stared at the message, my heart pounding. For a moment, I considered replying. But then I remembered all the sleepless nights, the tears, the heartbreak, and all the promises he had broken.

“Too late,” I typed back, hitting send before I could second-guess myself.

As I walked down the aisle, Pato’s face lit up with joy, and I couldn’t help but smile back. When he took my hands in his, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t known in years.

The ceremony was beautiful, I felt a sense of completeness I hadn’t felt in years. When Pato took my hands in his, I knew I was finally moving forward.

As we exchanged vows, Lando’s presence lingered in the back of my mind, but I let it go.

“I promise to love you through every challenge and to celebrate every victory,” he said, his eyes shining with sincerity.

“I promise to choose you every day for the rest of my life,” I replied, my voice steady and full of conviction.

We sealed our vows with a kiss, and I felt liberated. Lando was no longer my story; I was the author of my own life now, and it was a beautiful beginning with Pato. With him by my side, I was ready to embrace the future we would build together, thriving in a relationship based on trust, respect, and love.

As time passed, I learned to appreciate the small moments—the laughter, the late-night talks, the shared dreams of a future together. Pato supported my passions and encouraged me to pursue my own ambitions, something I had never fully experienced before.

One day, I received a message from Max: “Lando’s been a mess since your wedding. He didn’t handle it well.”

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. He had always taken me for granted, and now, he was the one left behind.

I hoped Lando would find peace eventually, but I also knew I couldn’t go back to the pain of our past. Pato was everything I needed, and I was determined to focus on our life together.

As our first anniversary approached, Pato planned a surprise getaway. “I want to celebrate us, everything we’ve built,” he said, a bright smile on his face.

We traveled to a beautiful beach destination, where we spent our days relaxing, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. One night, under a sky full of stars, Pato took my hand and said, “You’ve changed my life for the better. I want to keep building this amazing life with you.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears. “You’ve shown me what real love looks like, Pato. I’m so grateful for you.”

His expression softened as he leaned in, kissing me gently.

Then, one day, I got a call from Lando.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice shaky.

“What do you want, Lando?” I replied, my heart racing.

“I just need to explain… things didn’t go as planned after you left. I’ve made mistakes, and I want you back.”

I paused, memories flooding back. “You had your chance, Lando. I can’t keep going back to the past. I’m happy now. I’ve moved on.”

“But I still love you!” he pleaded. “You were always my main one!”

His words echoed painfully in my mind, but I stood my ground. “You had your chance to prove that. You made your choice.”

The phone call ended, and I sighed with relief. I looked at Pato, who was sitting beside me, and smiled. I had made the right choice.

I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Lando was no longer a part of my narrative. My life was filled with the warmth and love Pato brought into it, and I was excited for the future we would continue to create together.

With Pato, I had learned to love again, not just him, but also myself. And that made all the difference.

Lando’s chapter had closed, and I was finally ready to start anew, with someone who truly valued me, not just as the ‘main one,’ but as the woman I had become.

[riizegasm]

Serpent || H. DM (Taesan)

❀ pairing: mafia boss!taesan x rival mafia boss!reader

❀ genre: enemies to allies to lovers, suggestive, fluff

❀ word count: ~6.2k

❀ warnings: explicit language, mentions of guns, blood, and everything else related to organized crime, suggestive themes, taesan is slightly ooc

❀ summary: Your alliance with the Giant Mountain crashes into your life like a brick through a glass window. As you work together to defeat a common enemy, you realize the old saying is right. The enemy of your enemy is your lover…or whatever…

❀ a/n: Okay so I’m a deep introspection writer, not an action writer, BUT!! I absolutely adore this fic! It’s so different from my usual portrayal of loser!taesan, but it works so well. I really hope you all enjoy this as much as I do. As always, likes, replies, and reblogs are encouraged. Happy reading!

Your heels click rhythmically against the spotless marble hallway, their sound interrupting the tense silence in the building. A pair of grandiose mahogany doors are opened for you, two men stepping aside to let you in. The office that it leads to is lavish, all of the furniture black with little chrome accents. Even the large desk in the center is an inky shade, clearly recently polished. 

A pair of equally spotless black shoes are propped up on its surface, mile long legs stretched out as their owner reclines in his chair. The smirk that the man wears is sickening, all too familiar. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” the man purrs. “What brings The Beauty of the North into my office?”

“Taesan,” you sigh, pointedly ignoring the nickname. “I need your help.”

You don’t know if it’s the desperation that colors your tone or the obvious frustration painted across your delicate features, but the smirk drops from Taesan’s face. His expression shifts into something more serious, something that could even be mistaken for concern, if you didn’t know the man so well. But this is Han Taesan, for Christ’s sake, the Giant Mountain, known for his harsh and stoic nature. There’s no way he is capable of feeling anything, let alone feeling anything for you. 

In an unlawful world full of enemies and allies, it would be fair to say that Taesan is neither. Your territories are separated from each others’ by the Dragons, an established mafia group known for their arms dealings. Although neither you nor Taesan specialize in arms deals, it makes sense that the groups closest in proximity to you would be your biggest threat. After all, territory disputes are common in your world. 

And well, the enemy of your enemy is your kinda not really friend, or however the saying goes. 

Within a few moments, you are making yourself comfortable in a seat across from Taesan, a steaming mug of tea warming your hands. The man’s expression of concern has completely dropped now, exchanged for the blank stare that he’s known for. Despite the look, you can tell he is still prepared to hear you out, having ordered his men to leave you two in privacy. 

“What’s going on?” Taesan asks after a moment of silence. “It must be pretty bad if you’re coming to me for help.”

“Intel says that the Dragons are preparing a territory breach. Apparently they’ve already started preparing to move their sales into my territory.”

Taesan scoffs. “And what does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes, unsurprised by Taesan’s standoff-ish attitude. “Because you’re next. My source says that they’ve already planted a mole so that they can take you down from the inside once I’m gone. They’re banking on the fact that both of us deal with their attacks alone. But if we deal with them together…”

“We can save both of our asses in one go.”

Despite the way Taesan nods in clear understanding, a scowl begins to cloud his features. Just as fast as it appears, though, it vanishes, replaced with the signature blank stare. 

“How do I know this isn’t a set up?” He questions. “The Dragons and I have been on decent terms for over a year. Why should I believe that they are making their move now?”

You sigh, reaching into your purse to fetch the item that brought you here. You force yourself to ignore the reflexive way Taesan’s hand twitches at the sudden movement, no doubt ready to grab one of the weapons he undoubtedly has stored in his desk. What you’re looking for is hard to miss, and you drop it on the unblemished desk with a loud thud. 

The red brick isn’t particularly large, just sturdy enough to do some minor damage. A piece of white paper remains taped to its rough surface. Across it, bolded words are scribbled. 

THOSE WHO DO NOT FALL IN LINE WILL PERISH!

The only indicator of the sender of the message is a small stamp of a dragon’s face at the bottom of the paper. 

“This shattered the window of one of my shops at around 4am today.”

Taesan hums softly, picking the brick up to inspect it. He lets his eyes linger on its inked surface before nodding to himself. When done, he tosses it back onto the table, not once flinching at the sound it makes. 

“So, will you help me?” You hope your words don’t sound as desperate as you feel. 

Taesan blinks at you once, twice, before sighing. “Fuck it, I’m in. Where do we start?”

You can’t help the small smile that blooms on your face, pleasantly surprised by Taesan’s willingness. 

“First, we find the mole.”

.          .         .

Han Taesan’s main office, or the Mountain Top as it’s better known, is just as flashy as Taesan himself is. Sleek black furniture and equally ebony walls are decorated with hints of chrome, their reflections shining in the perfectly polished marble floors. It’s tasteful, almost. Well, it’s as tasteful as any space run by a man in his twenties could be. But you imagine that it’s much easier when your empire is passed down to you by a filthy rich grandfather and not fought for tooth and nail like the one you yourself have built. 

There’s a difference in respect, you’d assume, between a leader who fought for their empire and a leader who was given it. But Taesan’s men don’t seem to show any lack in their appreciation for him. They bow a full ninety degrees as the man treks through the hallways, mile long legs moving gracefully in perfectly tailored dress pants. He commands a degree of authority without ever having to open his mouth. That silent reverence is probably what is saving you from a slew of unsavory comments from his underlings. 

Men in the business are never shy about treating pretty people like they are nothing more than just that. You’re used to people outside of your organization seeing you as nothing but a literal and metaphorical breeding ground for promiscuity. It took years of decapitating people for them to realize that your power extends to much more beyond your looks. 

The thought makes you sway your hips a little bit more than usual as you follow Taesan down an immaculate hallway. He leads you to a small set of doors, not bothering to knock before he simply barges in. The room hosts a slew of monitors and keyboards, all seemingly monitored by one person who sits at a central desk. 

The kid is clearly young, boyish features and a dark brown bed head giving him away. A pair of headphones fit snug over his ears, making it so that the boy hasn’t acknowledged either of his guests. Taesan just chuckles fondly before reaching over and snatching them off. His laughter only grows as the boy scrambles to his feet, falling over himself to bow deeply. 

“Sir, please excuse the disrespect,” he blubbers. “I was just watching back the tapes of yesterday’s deal and I got too into the details and—,”

Taesan claps a hand over the boy’s shoulder, smiling softly. You try not to stare at the handsome way his features contort in obvious fondness. It’s amazing to see Han Taesan be anything other than his stoic self. You would be lying if you said that he didn’t look undeniably attractive. 

“It’s okay, Woonhak. Seriously, straighten up.”

The boy does as told, embarrassment still coloring his cheeks. You struggle not to coo at the plush redness of his cheeks, further emphasizing his youth. 

“I came because I need your help with something. We need help with something. This is Y/N…,”

“The Beauty of the North,” Woonhak breathes, clearly in awe. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

This time, you don’t bother to hide your smile. “You as well, Woonhak.”

“What can I help you with?”

Taesan clears his throat, back to his stoic nature. “I need you to pull all phone records and text conversations for all of our men and scan them for any mention of the Dragons.”

“All of them?” Woonhak scoffs in disbelief. “But that’s over fifty men.”

“I know. But it’s really important, and time sensitive, too.”

You nod in agreement. “We’d like to have them by tonight, if we can.”

Taesan folds his arms over his chest, making his suit jacket shift across the broadness of his shoulders. You struggle to look away from the tightening fabric, hating the warmth that rises to your cheeks at the sight. Now is not the time. 

Woonhak seems to mull over the timeframe before responding. “I mean it would take all day and I would have to get to work right now, but I think I can do it!”

“Perfect,” Taesan sighs. “I’ll get Sungho to cover the rest of your workload for today. And Woonhak?”

The boy in question cocks his head, not unlike an intrigued puppy. 

“This stays between us, okay?”

The boy nods eagerly, miming zipping his lips closed before smiling. You can’t help the tiny laugh that bubbles in your throat at the over exaggerated action. Taesan seems amused too, if his hint of a smile is anything to go by. It’s only when the two of you exit the room once again that his smile drops. 

“Are you sure we can trust him?” You ask, nerves beginning to tickle at the base of your stomach. 

Taesan sighs. “Honestly, he’s the only one that I can say for sure that I trust. If he were the mole, my whole organization would be going down in flames.”

“Let’s hope that it’s not him, then.”

“Yeah,” Taesan mumbles, shaking his head. “Let’s.”

The tense aura that had once overcome the space begins to dissipate as Taesan straightens up, casually fixing his tie before beginning to head back down the long hallway from which you came. He clearly makes no move to check if you’re following behind, but something tells you that he’s listening to the measured clack of your heels against the marble floors. The tilt of his head is subtle, but it’s a dead giveaway that he’s listening; Han Taesan actually gives a shit about whether or not you’re following him. 

You only make it a few paces before Taesan stops short. He freezes so abruptly that you run straight into him, yet the force doesn’t sway him one bit. He’s silent for a moment, two, until a short yell echoes in the otherwise silent hallway. Silence quickly returns, then fades once again when it is pierced by a sound you know all too well—a gunshot. 

Taesan is quick to spring into action when a bullet whizzes past the both of you, luckily missing and lodging itself into an adjacent wall. He turns quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you tight against him. He ushers the two of you behind a large pillar that divides the massive hallway in two. You remain tucked against the man’s chest, his crisp suit jacket wrinkled where you’re holding on for dear life. 

It’s not like any of this is new to you. In your business, shootouts and confrontations are just about an everyday affair. But it’s different when it’s on enemy turf. It’s different when you are miles away from your own headquarters and your own men. For all you know, Taesan could use you as a human shield while he escapes! But something about the way his large hand spans your waist, keeping you tucked to his chest, proves otherwise. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers, breath warm as it fans your face in the close proximity. 

“Yeah, you?”

The man just hums in response, the simple vibration making a home in your own chest where it’s pressed to his. It brings you an odd sense of calm despite the calamity around you, another set of shots going off. They whiz past the pillar the two of you are tucked behind. 

Taesan reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a pistol, clicking the safety off and cocking it immediately. His other hand still remains firmly on your waist, not once faltering where he keeps you tucked close. He’s quick to lean over you, arm outstretched, only taking a quick peek around the pillar before firing off three shots. You can feel the recoil in your veins, the simple pop pop pop nestling deep into your flesh. No matter how long you’ve been in this world, the sound of guns firing at close range will never not startle you. 

There’s a loud thud that fills the office space, followed by a prolonged period of silence. Taesan’s breath is shaky but controlled, clearly preparing to fire off more shots if needed. But as some more time passes, it’s clear that the shooter is down. Taesan, however, doesn’t move, still peering down his nose at you. You hate the way that his gaze ignites something deep in your core. Silently, you pray that he can’t feel the heavy thump of your heart against your ribs, or that he at least just passes it off as adrenaline. 

“I think I got him,” Taesan whispers. “Stay here, I’ll go ch—,”

“MR. HAN?? Sir, where are you?!” A voice exclaims from down the hallway. 

Taesan visibly exhales at the sound of the voice, finally taking a step away from you and ducks around the pillar. You loathe the way his absence leaves you cold. 

“What the fuck was that?” Taesan exclaims. “Sanghyuk, please tell me that wasn’t one of our own.”

You take that as your cue that it’s safe to come out, steps shaky as you leave your hiding spot. The war zone that you step into almost makes you collapse. There’s a series of bullet holes lodged into various walls and some desks. A few bodies lay unmoving further down the hallway, all dressed in black suits similar to Taesan’s. But the man in charge is stationed on the other end of the hallway, bent over a limp body with a few of his other men. A sea of crimson slowly expands below their feet, matching the color splattered along the wall. If you looked close enough, you’re sure you would be able to see some brain matter stuck to the sleek white walls. 

Taesan is merciless as he lifts the body’s head by pulling on a fistful of hair. He takes one look at the face and scoffs before letting the face fall back to the floor. It makes a wet smack when it hits the floor, sending another splatter of blood up to Taesan’s ankles. The man doesn’t even flinch, brows pinching in anger as he rights himself. He crosses his arms against his chest, letting out a bitter chuckle. 

“Fucking Minjoong!” He exclaims. “I should’ve known to not let in that slimy fuck.”

You swallow thickly. “Who was he?”

The man next to Taesan responds, running a hand through his dyed red hair. “A fairly new recruit. He cornered us coming back from a deal and begged to be let in. But it’s clear now that he was a mole.”

The final word has you looking to Taesan, searching his features for any sign of relief. But it doesn’t come. Instead he just motions at the bodies strewn across the office, sighing loudly. 

“Clean this up,” he orders. “I’m taking Y/N home. Everyone is dismissed for the day.”

The man next to him splutters. “But sir, it’s only—,”

“I don’t give a shit. We’re done here.”

.         .         .

A few days pass before you hear from Taesan again. It’s filled with much of the same mundane work that you always do. Your underlings make runs for you, support your fronts, and send you reports, just to wake up and do it all again the next day. The monotony gives you a dangerous amount of time to think. And every time you’re supposed to be thinking about the Dragons and their next move, your mind wanders to broad shoulders in black suits and large hands steadying your waist. 

You’re caught up in your familiar daydream when the text from Taesan comes in. You try your best to ignore the flutter in your core as his name pops up on your phone screen. 

Minjoong isn’t the only one. I’ll meet you at your HQ in 15.

It’s exactly fourteen minutes later when one of your men is knocking on the door of your office. He has Taesan in tow as he steps into the large space, greeting you with a small bow. 

“The Giant Mountain is here to see you.”

You smile, trying your best not to let your gaze flicker over Taesan’s figure where he stands. “Thanks, Donghyun. I’ll call you if I need you.”

The man sends another small bow before he leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click. It leaves you and Taesan in an uncomfortable silence, tension inexplicably high. For a moment, you swear Taesan eyes the curve of your chest before meeting your gaze. But you’re sure it must just be a figment of your imagination. 

“So,” you begin, folding your manicured hands underneath your chin. “What did you find out?”

Taesan smirks before sitting down across the desk. He’s surprisingly relaxed for being on supposed enemy turf, legs stretched out as he sinks into his seat. 

“There’s four.”

You cock your head, confused by the simple statement. “Four of what?”

“Four filthy fuckin’ moles in my org. All of them were stupid enough to text evidence back and forth to each other.”

“So you know their plan?”

Taesan sighs. “Not quite. Only bits and pieces were explained in the texts, but it’s enough to prove that Minjoong’s little attack from the other day was intended to cause chaos.”

“Not to kill you?”

The cocky smile you’ve gotten used to Taesan wearing crosses his countenance. “Not yet.”

There’s something in the gleam in Taesan’s eye that fills you with both terror and excitement. In a world like your own, organization leaders have to be predators, ready to pounce on anything that crosses their path. Even though you aren’t his intended target, it’s impossible not to feel like prey as his dark gaze bores into yours. Even as his expression drops into his calculated stoicism, you can feel your heart pounding against the cage of your ribs, just waiting to be exposed and devoured. 

“I’ll have some of my men do some…gathering of information out of the three remaining moles and see if we can get anything about the Dragons’ plan for you,” Taesan says with a slow nod. 

“Thank you,” the words lift a weight off your chest as they are spoken aloud. “Seriously.”

Taesan just shrugs. “We’re allies now. It’s the least I can do.”

The “least he can do” turns out to be exactly what you expected. The picture comes to your phone late at night, and you gasp when you see the carnage it contains. Blood is splattered across a large black tarp, speckled in some spots while it creates crimson lagoons in others. If you look closely, you can spot some teeth strewn across the carpet, shining like stars in the night sky. In the foreground, there’s a table laid out with various instruments, pliers, bone saws, and hammers, along with two detached fingers, dripping a sea of red onto the table. The text it accompanies is simple:

Got what we needed. My HQ, tomorrow at 10.

Despite the nausea that lingers in your stomach from the picture, you find yourself in Taesan’s office at approximately 10:01 am the next morning. The man has forgone his suit jacket this time, his crisp white shirt rolled up to expose the tattooed skin of his forearms. There’s something about him that seems a little disheveled, erratic, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. It isn’t until you see three crushed energy drink cans by the trash can that the pieces come together. 

“Great, you’re here!” Taesan greets. “So those fuckers put up a fight, but eventually we got somewhere. It turns out that the four of them joined my org to—,”

“Taesan,” you interrupt, trying not to coo at the confused look you are given in response. “When’s the last time you slept?”

Taesan sputters for a moment, ruffling his already disheveled hair. “Like two days ago. But that’s not important! We have so much to do. We’re finally getting somewhere.”

“Taesan, you need to sleep. Do you have a place you can sleep here?”

“The penthouse,” Taesan responds, voice small like a scolded child. 

“Then let’s go. You need to get some rest.”

It takes a bit more back and forth and jerky movements of the body to convince Taesan to take a well deserved break. The elevator ride up to the penthouse is short enough that Taesan doesn’t have the chance to change his mind. When you step into the apartment, you notice how different the space is from any of Taesan’s offices, yet threads of the man’s style are still there. 

Floor to ceiling windows allow for plenty of light to fill the space, despite the overcast skies. Most of his furniture is in various shades of gray and black, matching the sky. The floors are sleek as you step in, clearly recently mopped and polished to the point where your reflection stares back at you when you glance down. The pristine floors are just one of the many things about this apartment that shows that it is untouched, uninhabited, and that Taesan really hasn’t slept. 

“I’m going to go,” you say softly, watching as Taesan loosens his tie with a sigh. “Get some sleep.”

Before you can cross back through the threshold, a chilled hand grips your wrist, pulling you back softly. Taesan’s eyes are bright when they meet yours, his gaze pleading. 

“Do you mind staying? Just for a bit. I want to tell you what I found out before you go.”

The slight waver of his eyebrows makes you wonder when you went from the stoicism of the Giant Mountain to the open expressions of Han Taesan. The man known for his ruthlessness and icy exterior has seemingly melted into a pool of warmth. He isn’t demanding anything from you, like the way he does with his underlings. Instead he is asking, feline eyes widening so that he looks as if he’s begging. 

“Fine,” you sigh, your resolve crumbling as warmth pools in your core. “Just for a bit though.”

You should have known that Taesan’s information would take longer than “just a bit.” He’s overly animated as he goes through what he found out from each of the moles, not sparing any of the gory details as he spells out their torture. In the end, all of Taesan’s ramblings lead to one central point. The Dragons are after what everyone else in the world is after—money. 

“His attacks on your side are much simpler. He wants to do business with th—,” Taesan cuts himself off with a yawn, nose scrunching not unlike a disgruntled cat. 

“I really think you should get some sleep, Taesan.”

As you move to gather your belongings, a soft voice calls out to you, thick with the beginnings of sleep. “Is that your secret?”

“My secret to what?”

“You know,” Taesan yawns again. “Your nickname. You looking like that. You get plenty of beauty rest, don’t you, sweetheart?”

A snort escapes you before you can catch it, caught off guard by Taesan’s candid questions. “Yes, Taesan. I get plenty of beauty rest. You should too.”

You watch as the man shoots you a small smile before his eyes drift shut, fully succumbing to sleep. The sight of Taesan curled up on the couch, chest rising and falling evenly, has the tendrils of anger slowly traversing your veins. It’s not anger at the mellow expression of the sleeping man before you, but rather at the reason you are in this situation in the first place. 

The Dragons are seeking to destroy lives just for their own selfish gain. All they want is more territory, more arms sales, more men, more, more, more. Their greed knows no end. The thought of all they have destroyed and what they could destroy has you steaming, anger boiling in your gut threatening to boil over. 

The Dragons have plans to take Taesan’s life, and you simply can’t let that happen. 

It’s there, watching Taesan’s unconscious form that you realize that you have to be ruthless in your fight against the Dragons. You have to be swift and venomous, striking like a serpent. With the unwavering stability of Taesan’s men behind you, there’s no doubt that you can be successful. You just have to be willing to die for it. 

.        .        .

Sub Zero is always packed on a Saturday night. It’s one of Taesan’s well known clubs, a perfect front for pushing the more illicit activities that his empire is known for. It’s the only place in the city where someone could buy drugs and do them right then and there, making it a popular destination. With its flashing lights and swanky cocktails, anyone could mistake it as a normal club. But the way the bass rumbles in your chest reminds you that this is anything but. 

Only two of your men flank your sides as you squeeze your way through club goers and partiers. It’s clear that some of them are out of it, too deep into their high to notice the world around them. They move as an amorphous crowd, a blob of bodies that bob and weave to the beat. It makes it harder to reach your destination, but finally you arrive at a roped off section in the back right corner of the club. 

A burly man dressed in a sleek black suit guards the section, eyes concealed as he gazes out at the crowd. Even though you can’t see his eyes, you can tell he’s looking right at you. All it takes is a slight cock of your head before the man is stepping aside, unlatching the black velvet rope to allow you in. You just shoot the man a smile as you climb the few steps to the elevated section, eyes immediately locked on the man who invited you in. 

Taesan looks delectable tonight. He’s not in his normal suit, the way most of his men are. Instead, he dons a leather jacket over what appears to be a black tank top. His black jeans are loose where they fit across his spread legs, the man leaning back lazily. He takes a slow sip of his drink, some type of dark liquor, only greeting you with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

“You came,” he smirks as you get closer. “Didn’t think this would be the crowd for the Beauty of the North.”

You roll your eyes as you sit next to him, your little black dress straining across the width of your hips. The outfit is clearly to Taesan’s satisfaction, if the way his eyes sweep over your figure is anything to go by. His eyes linger on the fullness of your chest, the dip in your waist, and the curve of your hips. 

“See something you like?” You tease. 

“Oh,” Taesan smirks. “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

A molten feeling blooms in your gut at Taesan’s words, forcing you to struggle to hide heated cheeks. But the man doesn’t break eye contact. For as stoic as he is when he’s sober, he’s a pretty loose drunk. His confidence is palpable as he drinks; You hate that you find it as undeniably sexy as you do. 

“Did you invite me to talk business or to flirt?”

Taesan takes a slow sip of his liquor, leaning closer to you. “And what if I wanted to do both?”

At this point, he’s close enough that you can smell the liquor on his breath—whiskey. If it were anyone else, you would hate the smell. But it’s Taesan, and you find your mouth watering, desiring to drink its essence straight from his mouth. You wonder if his lips would be as soft as they look, if his perfect teeth would nibble on your lips just so.

You clear your throat in an attempt to break the haze of your daydream. 

“What did you need to tell me?” You press, voice vibrating your chest along with the bass of the song blasting through the club speakers. 

Taesan leans even closer, letting his lips brush the soft shell of your ear. 

“I know how to take them out,” he whispers. “I just need you to trust me. Can you do that, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, mouth suddenly dry at the deep drawl of Taesan’s voice in your ear. It’s intoxicating, his confidence, the way he speaks, the soft brush of his lips against your skin. It’s enough to have you clenching your thighs together, ashamed at how easily the man gets you going. 

“What am I going to need to do?”

Taesan pulls away only slightly, clearly disappointed by your response. A large hand comes underneath your chin, nudging your face so that you’re forced to lock eyes with him. It only lasts for a moment, Taesan’s gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes once again. A pink tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, and you find yourself tracking the motion with your gaze. 

“Can you do that?” Taesan repeats firmly. “Do you trust me, baby?”

You don’t know if it’s the deep rasp of his voice or the fire in his gaze, but something about his demeanor tells you that this is real for him and not just the alcohol talking. Taesan knows that this is life or death for both of you. If you’re in this, you have to be in it for real. 

So you take a shaky breath, nodding slowly. 

“I trust you, Taesan.”

The man smirks, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. 

“Good,” he whispers, dropping your face. “Just know that I got you. We’re taking the Dragons down…together.”

.         .         .

The serpent strikes on a Sunday. 

Taesan came up with the code phrase, his signal to let you know that the plan was in motion. It was the signal for you to come into the scene and do what you do best: be the Beauty of the North. 

Your men come in silently, slowly infiltrating the Dragon’s Den by taking his underlings out one by one. You’ve always been a big fan of silence, favoring knives to guns. It allows each of your men the element of surprise, a simple flick of the wrist opening up each member’s throat and exposing their blood to the world. They fall within seconds. 

It almost seems too easy to make your way through the building, only flanked by two of your men, the only two with firearms. Donghyun’s pistol is decorated with a silencer, the accessory allowing you to keep your element of surprise as he takes out three Dragons stationed near their leader’s office. The opening is clear as the rest of your men continue to take out the lower level Dragons, leaving only one man left to deal with. 

Jaehyun counts you and Donghyun down before kicking the door open, both of their guns ready to fire. However, you’re not expecting to be met with at least five men, one of which wearing a calm expression that you know all too well. At least half of the men are somewhat familiar to you, their black suits all to similar to their leader’s, who greets you with a blank stare. It stuns you into place, the two men next to you equally as shocked. 

“Taesan?”

“And here I was thinking that the fucker was lying,” Kim Jaeyoon, head of the Dragons, snarls. “The Beauty of the North really came to fucking kill me.”

You can’t even bother to address the man, too busy searching the familiar feline gaze that remains trained on you down the barrel of a gun. Your heart has fallen to your feet, a constricting feeling squeezing your throat into knots. You don’t even dare to breathe, too stunned by the thought of one wrong move ending in your death at the hands of your ally. 

Jaeyoon lets out a wicked chuckle, seemingly amused by your stunned state. “It’s over. If you surrender now, I’ll let your men join me instead of killing them. I just might let you be my pretty armpiece, too.”

The man rounds his desk, stooping a few paces from you. Taesan moves with him, consistently protecting the man’s flank. You still can’t manage to look away from him, hurt and betrayal leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“You made me a lucky man, Taesan,” Jaeyoon chuckles. “Who would have thought that you would really deliver me such a pretty thing on a silver platter?”

You flinch away before Jaeyoon can stroke his knuckles against the fullness of your cheekbone. From somewhere behind you, you can hear Jaehyun and Donghyun struggling, no doubt having been restrained the minute you all entered the office. You admire their desire to protect you, even now, when everything is so clearly coming to an end. 

“Don’t play hard to get now. I offered you a generous deal, Y/N,” Jaeyoon cooes, breath rancid where it fans your face. 

Despite your disgust at the man before you, your attention never leaves the figure to his left. Taesan looks stoic as always, almost bored at the interaction in front of him. His nonchalance has anger bubbling in your core, heating your face. 

“Taesan, why?”

The man just blinks back, face unmoving. “Well, the serpent strikes on a Sunday.”

An almost simultaneous cacophony of shots ring out, threatening to burst your eardrums and forcing you to recoil. Something warm and wet splatters across the room, dirtying the otherwise untainted surface of your dress. You’re sure that this is it, that you have finally met your end. But when you don’t feel any sources of searing pain, you dare to open your eyes. 

Taesan’s chest is heaving where he stands over Kim Jaeyoon’s limp body, gun still smoking in his hands. A few of the other unrecognizable men have met a similar fate as their boss, bodies strewn across the luxurious office space. Slowly, Taesan lowers his gun, eyes finally meeting yours. 

“God, I always fucking hated him.”

An arm snakes its way around your waist, pulling your stunned figure into a firm chest. You wonder if Taesan can feel the roaring of your heart where it’s pressed against his, not sure if it’s pounding out of anger or pure fear. 

“Are you okay?” Taesan whispers.

You let out a shaky breath, reveling in the man’s warmth for a moment. But when you regain your composure, you pull away abruptly, landing a harsh blow to Taesan’s arm. 

“Fuck you,” you exclaim. “You scared me, you fuck!”

Taesan hisses as he rubs the sore spot. “What was that for? I just saved your life!”

“I thought you ratted me out!”

Taesan just rolls his eyes, wasting no time in pulling you back into him. This time, he engulfs you in a proper hug, arms tightening around you and tucking you under his chin. You’re powerless to do anything but hug back. 

“I told you that you had to trust me, sweetheart.”

“I did…I still do! It’s just…” you sigh. “Don’t do that again!”

Taesan’s chuckle is little more than just a rumble of his chest underneath your head. “Let’s hope I don’t have to.”

.         .         .

The second time you end up in Taesan’s apartment is unlike the first one. Instead of a sleepy Taesan rambling about his latest torturing, he’s very much awake, mouth too occupied with meeting yours to do any talking. 

Taesan’s mouth is insistent against yours, kissing you deeper, harder, with each press of his lips. It’s far from his usual stoic demeanor, the way his kisses turn demanding and sloppy within seconds. His wandering hands prove to be equally as demanding as they sweep the expanse of your body, squeezing your ass underneath the tight fabric of your dress. 

You aren’t fairing much better, your own fingers tangling in the man’s inky locks. The nibble of teeth against your bottom lip has you arching even further into Taesan’s hold, a soft whimper leaving your lips. It’s too much and not nearly enough all at the same time. You crave to feel the shift of Taesan’s muscles underneath his skin, his hands as they explore you, his mouth as he follows his fingers’ path. 

You’re so consumed that you barely realize that Taesan has pulled away, blindly chasing his lips before you blink your eyes open. Instead of a greasy smirk, Taesan’s mouth is slightly parted, chest heaving where it remains pressed to yours. He slides a hand up to cup your jaw, thumb beginning to trace across your bottom lip. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” He whispers. 

His irises are dark, pupils almost completely eclipsing the small rings of color. Gone is the stoic Taesan that you’re used to. This Taesan feels. And so do you. 

“I trust you, Taesan.”

.FIN.

[redsrooftopprincess]

Assassin, Part 5

Fem Reader x Raphael

No warnings

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Eyes used to the near complete darkness of the foyer, a shaft of moonlight nearly blinds him. It floods the sitting room, casting a fractured skyline on the wall, and in the center of the room, opposite the empty fireplace, a goddess lies asleep.

Seven steps, as if caught by the tide, he is pulled to you, pale and cold in the moonlight. Lying on the chaise lounge, your green dress looks like a moonlit landscape, and the silk clings to every peak and valley beneath. A manifestation of the living, breathing earth.

He looks down at you in reverence. You'd brought warmth and light and beauty into his cold concrete world. Hundreds of years ago, he would have built temples to you. Your devoted.

You shift in your sleep and the landscape changes, bringing him out of his reverie. He's exhausted, and he's hurting, but he can't just leave you out here.

He looks at the fragile wooden staircase that leads up to your room, and sighs. D hasn't gotten around to reinforcing them yet, but Raph is the only one who's too heavy to make it upstairs, so it hasn't really been a priority.

He kneels, taking you into his arms and carrying you to his room.

Unable to move his hammock from the lair, he typically uses a blanket covered pile of pillows in the back room. It seems almost blasphemous, lying you on something so vulgar. But it's all he can offer you, and he does the best he can.

He covers you with a blanket, stealing one last glance at your face in the moonlight, and turns to make his way out of the room. It'd be easy enough to sleep in the barn, and it wouldn't be the first time. He stops short when a soft voice calls from behind him.

"Raphael?"

Fuck.

He closes his eyes and sighs before turning around. You're staring up at him with sleepy eyes still hazy from tears and champagne, and push yourself to sitting.

He looks down at you with an unreadable expression. As consciousness comes back into focus, fractured memories of the evening flood you.

He'd said no. He'd said no and you kept pressuring him. You made it so that there was no way you could play it off as a one time thing. A fluke. You couldn't pretend that you thought he was someone else, or that you were too drunk to know what you were doing. You wanted him, and you made that clear, and now things are going to be weird until they completely fall apart, but you have to do *something*.

You broke it.

You *have* to fix it.

"I'm sorry... If I made you uncomfortable tonight, I..." You blink the tears back behind your eyes, and words come pouring out of you instead, "I know I should have stopped asking after the first time you said 'no,' but I was drinking and I know that's no excuse, but I swear it won't happen again and I know I ruined everything, but if we could just pretend none of it ever happened..."

"(Y/N)..." He interrupts softly. Closing his eyes tight and rubbing his forehead. He was hearing noise and processing none of it.

That's when you see it, in his dull amber eyes, in the way he seems too tired to carry himself. He'd crashed, and he'd crashed hard. This conversation was not going to happen tonight.

Instinct has you reaching out to him. You take his hand and pull gently, he's too tired to resist. He lies beside you on the pile of pillows and you pull yourself against him, fingertips gently gripping the upper lip of his plastron, head resting under his chin.

He can't help it, he wraps himself around you, pulling you far closer and far tighter than is probably wise, and buries his nose in your hair.

He needs this. He needs you close. Even if you're the reason he's hurting, you're still the place he runs to. Home.

...

He breathes you in and lets sleep finally claim him.

(FIN)

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down...

Assassin, Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @footninja

[steddiebang2024]

Getting to know you (again) |  E |  68k

Author: @medusapelagia

Artist: @boybonebird

Beta Reader: @spookysnarkyem and @dame-zoom-a-lot

[Link to fic]  |  [Link to art]

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, minor Robin Buckley/Chrissy Cunningham, implied Jason Carver/Billy Hargrove

Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Steve’s parents, Eddie’s parents, Wayne Munson, Dustin Henderson, Claudia Henderson, Robin Buckley

Tags: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Slow Burn, Amnesia, Forced Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Whump, POV Alternating, Misunderstandings, Eventual Smut, Eddie Munson is Taller Than Steve Harrington, might contain traces of Billy Hargrove, Digital Art, Steddie Big Bang 2024 

Trigger Warnings: Car Accidents, Hospitals

↳ Keep reading below for a summary!

The Harrington Family is rich, disgustingly rich.

The only problem is that their wealth comes from loan sharking and old connections to the mafia. But Richard Harrington is an ambitious man and he won't let the shadow of the past influence his future: all he needs is a famous name that will finally clean their, but none is willing to be associated with the Harrington family. None apart from Alan Munson, the member of a prestigious family now in disgrace, who immediately accepts the idea of marrying his son to Harrington’s son.

What they don’t know is that Steve has his own plan: marry Eddie and get a divorce by consent after a few months, so both the boys will be finally free from their families.

It looks like a perfect plan, until a car crash messes everything up.

When Steve wakes up he doesn’t remember Eddie or their plan and he truly believes that they got married for love. Didn’t they?

-

“Are you drunk, Steve? Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, I’m home. With a warm beer that tastes like piss thinking about my vows.”

“Vows? What are you talking about?”

“It was a busy night.”

“I got it,” Robin replies, “but I’m still confused. Did you really say vows?”

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2347

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates. 

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scares scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor. 

And there’s talking. 

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets. 

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face. 

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my counting skills once again making me win.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still you do.  Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, so all you do is stop his, and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks. 

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks. 

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it. 

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword. 

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold. 

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that  truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katanta, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like air. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE. 

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

[vevobly]

Being Lottie Matthews's Girlfriend Headcanons (Pre-Crash) [Part 1]

A/N: I was thinking about making Laura Lee's first before hers because the lack of stuff with her is a fucking crime. Girl kept everyone's faith together, and when she died; all hell really just broke loose.

Whether it's a surprise to you or not, Lottie isn't overly showy about her feelings in public. It's different in private though, she's incredibly affectionate and gentle with you. Whenever this girl touches you, it's always soft and comforting. I mean, call it an exaggeration or whatever but being with her feels like paradise.

You guys get a lot of these affectionate quiet moments; her just holding your hand during long car rides, she'll brush a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, or rest her head on your shoulder when you guys are together.

Lottie's presence is extremely calming to you. When you're feeling stressed or overwhelmed, she has a way of grounding you. By that, I mean this girl can literally just bring you back to the present with her soothing voice or presence alone. She's your immediate go-to person when your own life gets chaotic sometimes.

(blf'iv z ullo) Lottie is the type of girlfriend who makes everything feel okay just by being near you. She has this way of making you feel like everything will work out, no matter how tough things get (even though you'll think otherwise).

Lottie has this almost instinctual understanding of your emotions (so don't even try anything stupid like shoving it down or whatever). She'll know when something's bothering you before you even say anything and will always be there to offer her support.

It doesn't whether it's through soft words or a comforting embrace from her, she will help you feel better without pushing you to talk about it until you're ready. She'll often say things like "I just felt like you needed this" during it, and honestly? You might as well just die early from how wonderful this girl is. z ullo

Lottie is protective of you quietly. While she isn't confrontational, you can bet this girl will not hesitate to step in when she senses that someone is making you uncomfortable or even treating you poorly a bit. gszg'h dszg blf ziv

She's the type to stand by your side and just make sure you're okay quietly. This part of her shows itself in small ways, stuff like reminding you to take care of yourself or guiding you away from situations that might hurt you (gosh you are completely fucking in love with girl). You always feel safe with her. (But much like a promise, they break so easily, don't they?)

Okay, while Lottie does spoil you a fuck ton. She's all about the small things; leaving you thoughtful notes in your locker, buying you your favorite snack when you're having a bad day, or surprising you with a playlist of songs she thinks you'll love.

Every gesture is subtle but deeply meaningful. Even though her way of showing love isn't loud (I don't know the exact word to use for it), it is constant and sincere. Every small act of kindness from her comes from a place of deep love and care. (Love burns. And if Lottie's love for you burns too bright, will it keep you warm, or will it devour you whole?)

Lottie loves talking to you, especially when you two have these really deep conversations about stuff. Since she's incredibly introspective and thoughtful, she'll often just talk with you about; life, philosophy, or even spirituality. It doesn't even matter if you know much or less about those things, you two can talk for hours! Lottie is always listening carefully to you, and making you feel heard (you wonder sometimes how you ended up with such an amazing person like her- it wasn't by luck, that's for sure).

If it hasn't been made clear yet, Lottie is an amazing listener. Whenever you need to vent, she'll be there for you with open ears and comforting you. She knows she can't fix everything for you so she doesn't. instead, she'll give you space to talk and figure things out at your own pace. She always makes you feel so damn understood and supported no matter what you're going through. Sometimes, you think she might have been an angel sent down from heaven. (Is she though?) I mean, she seems like one! (That's just what you think. She's a curse disguised as a fucking blessing, you're a fool for thinking otherwise.)

Lottie values your private time together hella more than anything. Whether it's just sitting quietly while you both do your own thing or having a lazy day in, those moments mean the absolute world to her. She's never bored when she's with you, even when you aren't talking. The simplicity of just being in each other's presence means so much to both of you (you're like oxygen, she needs you to live).

When she's feeling overwhelmed by her own thoughts sometimes, you'll be there for her. Just like with you, you help ground her too; reminding her to take deep breaths and where she is in the present. She's very grateful for how you never judge her for having these moments. (She doesn't know what she would do if you ever looked at her the way THEY did) That instead of being a dismissive dick and whatever, you're patient and understanding with her—you're always giving her love and reassurance when she needs it the most.

Lottie thinks a lot about the future. In fact, she's always thinking about it and including you in her plans without hesitation. Doesn't matter if she's talking about a trip you could take together after graduation or just imagining a peaceful life from Wiskayok, she always sees you there by her side (this fact alone makes you want to marry her, but gay marriage be damned because it's not legal yet).

[peachesofteal]

I’m going to strangle Philip. I swear on my grandmas favorite cat I am going to. I fucking knew that slimy piece of shit was gonna come out of his fucking corner and ruin it.

It’s always right when your ready, right when your fucking ready to move on. That’s when the embodiment of everything wrong shows up and crashes down the work you put up.

OH IM SO FUCKING MAD. I swear to god if he touches Bunny Simon’s gonna have to hold ME back because I’ll leap through my fucking phone!!!

(Also I love the chapter, I know I’m coming across as very angry but this was just perfect. Absolute perfection. The emotions she was going though and how she slowly started putting more faith in her husbands lovers just really shows how far she’s come since the start. OH AN SUNBEAM!!! Ahhhhh I can’t, cute shit right there. Her lil sunlight, her lil ray, AHHH I’m kicking my feet just gushing about her and her lil beam.)

The baby being her little sunbeam almost put me in the grave when I first wrote because it’s so cute, and she really came so far. Things always get better before they get worse though, unfortunately.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 56 (Stress Relief)

cw: very low spice but skivvies and such 🌶️

Heather received sad news from Henford when Everett’s grandmothers, Agatha and Agnes Crumpcakes, died within weeks of one another. But Heather was so busy with Ash and work that she couldn’t get home for the funeral. "I'm so sorry, Everett," she said when she called.

"Heather, it's okay. With everything you have going on, I understand."

"I hate myself or it."

"Stop it. My grandmothers know you send your love."

She hung up and held her head in her hands. She was so exhausted, and Ash was up late, demanding a second bedtime story. She felt pulled in too many directions at once, unable to give the best of herself to anyone around her.

Conrad could tell she was stressed, and the next weekend Ash was at his father's. "Let's go on a date," he suggested.

"I don't think I have the energy to get all dressed up for a night out," she said honestly.

"Casual," he insisted. "We could take the animals to Deadgrass Isle and just relax for the night."

The wind in her hair on the boat to the isle did sound invigorating. "I might be terrible company," she warned.

"I'll still always be there, even if you're terrible company."

She gazed lovingly. "Alright. Let's go!"

They played with the animals and let them explore the grassy island, but as the night air cooled considerably, the isle slowly emptied of tourists.

"Come watch the sunset from the lighthouse with me," said Conrad. "The animals will be alright down here for a while. He had a flirtatious glint in his eye. His hand travelled down her back, gently caressing her skin through her jacket. Golden sun bounced off her cheeks. Conrad was captivated.

Two hearts over the door to the electrical room gave Conrad an idea. "Have you ever made love inside a lighthouse before."

Butterflies flitted inside her stomach. Conrad's left hand grabbed her by the waist as the right swung open the unlocked door. The room was empty, except for the switches and generators that powered the bulb, with piles of dusty wooden boxes covered in tarp.

They fell into an embrace, collapsing onto old blankets and carpeting that could have smelled better. But they were too hungry for one another to care too much about their surroundings.

Making love inside the two-hundred-year-old lighthouse, they stayed in their embrace until after sunset, but when they stood to get dressed an old tackle box fell from a shelf.

As metal fishhooks crashed against the wooden floors, Conrad whipped around to the sound but found nothing. He could swear he heard a dog growl, but Gord was chasing seagulls on the grass outside. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what? The fishhooks?"

"There's a dog in here." He looked around fruitlessly, but Heather laughed him off.

"Bella Goth always heard stories of ghosts and buried treasure on Deadgrass Isle. But she says the only ghosts are in the pet cemetery and if there was ever buried treasure it's long gone, now."

"I know it sounds crazy, but I could swear-"

"It could have been any dog, but so what if it was a ghost?"

"I've always thought ghosts usually have unfinished business."

"You solve mysteries all day at work and in your spare time you want to help ghosts cross over, too?"

He laughed a little at how it sounded. "When you put it that way...maybe, I guess."

"Maybe one day you'll get around to breaking curses, too."

"If Ash really was cursed, I wouldn't care what it takes. I'd solve it. But he's been doing great, and Dr. Serra said his last scans showed no long-term injuries."

Heather leaned in to kiss her sweet, handsome man. "I love you more than I'll ever know how to properly say. I just crumble trying to come up with words that don't make me an anxious mess."

"I know you love me," he said. "I love you, too. I don't need speeches. Just you."

She grinned. "Oh, you're a poet now?"

Ever the detective, Conrad was sure of what he heard, but after a quick visit to the cemetery so they could pay their respects to departed pets, they hopped on the last boat to the mainland.

It seemed inevitable; a matter of time before Conrad's innate curiosity would bring him back to the lighthouse... ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[crazylittlejester]

Hey hey hey you should talk about your blorbos

YOURE SO RIGHT MAJOR THANKS FOR ENABLING ME >:)

I’ve talked a lot about Wars today I think so I’ll yap about Time because he is ALSO my special guy and I like yapping

(All of this is gonna be my headcanons/interpretations/how I write him, also my bad for spelling mistakes or if this is incoherent)

I feel like Time is a very complicated character who isn’t either the perfect stoic leader nor the crazy little gremlin, but something perfectly in between. I don’t think leading comes naturally to him at all, he’s doing an okay job, I mean no one’s died so far /j and his age and life experience makes him more likely to be listened to and respected, but I don’t think he’s perfect leader material. He’s a bit awkward and unsure, and yeah he’s got just as much information as the rest of ‘em do so he’s not really at an advantage. I wouldn’t say he’s COMPLETELY in over his head but I’m sure he’s had more than a few moments where he’s had to pinch the bridge of his nose and ask himself how on earth he wound up in this position. He’s not TRYING to be the group dad, but some of the younger ones kinda view him that way because he really does care about them all and he’s a safe person to go to

I’ve definitely yapped about this before but I hc he definitely gets overstimulated by the others sometimes. Him vs Wind and their polar opposite sensory issues is a fun thing to mess with in writing because I know Wind is the kid who struggles to sit still and everything is going so so fast for him all the time, it’s all very go go go go go and when he’s moving and yapping at light speed past Time who’s going through the mental equivalent of realizing the wheels on your bike are going faster than the pedals and you need to break or you’ll crash, it doesn’t end very well. Time is autistic to me, and while I think he’s higher support needs than say, Warriors, because he was a bit quiet and weird as a kid he just kinda got written off as odd and different and in HIS mind he thinks society overwhelms him so much because he grew up in the woods where any time he got overstimulated he could just walk off and get some space. Nature is comforting to him it helps him calm down so he can regulate himself again so if you stuck him in a city for long periods of time he wouldn’t do too hot. Also with him being autistic I think his facial expressions and voice can be quite flat at times. It takes more EXTREME emotions before you can see/hear them from him

I also hc that since he was a growing kid putting those masks on all the time and changing his body around so much it SERIOUSLY took a toll on him and his body is fairly loosely held together. He has a lot of chronic pain and very easily dislocates his hips and shoulders

ALSO I DUNNO WHAT THE ACTUAL THING WITH HIS EYE IS, BUT I HC HIS WHITE EYE IS GLASS. It’s not just that he can’t see out of it, it ain’t there. And the scar on his face is pretty deep and makes it difficult at times to move that side

THANKS FOR ENABLING MEEEE

[tunastime]

Watching the rain fall + crashing together on the couch (maybe after coming back inside soaked from said rain?)

And whoever you want this prompt to be about! I'm not picky lol

watching the rainfall / crashing together on the couch (1005 words) (x)

"Cleo!"

Cleo looks up, brow furrowed as their concentration from their cup of tea and sketches are briefly interrupted by the sound of their front door opening and shutting. They blink. The voice is familiar, warm, thinned out from surprise. It's—

"'Suma, you better not be dripping all over my front carpet—"

"Ah—” and there’s her answer, she notes, as they stand from the table, leaving sketches and tea behind. “Sorry!"

Cleo steps into her entryway. 

Xisuma stands, still armored, dark purple and blue enchantments flickering ever so over the green, at her front door. Water drips from the creases of his arms as he holds each at the elbow, drips down his shins, drips down the lip of his helmet. Behind the tinted visor, she thinks she can place his bright, wide eyes staring back at her. 

Cleo sighs, setting her hands on her hips. Xisuma shrinks. It does little to displace the height he has over them, but definitely makes him a bit less imposing. She shakes her head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbles up in her chest. Her admin, trying to make himself impossibly small, trying to avoid the rain, standing, rain-damp in their entryway.

"God's sake—" she barks out a laugh, shaking her head. "What, did I win the place-to-hide-from-the-rain trophy? A sopping wet Xisuma in my entryway?"

Xisuma snorts, eyes crinkling.

"Interesting choice of words," he says, amused.

Cleo raises her eyebrows, fixing him with a pointed look. "Xisuma..."

"Sorry!" X laughs, holding out his hands. More water drips from his wrists as he moves, and he shifts back and forth experimentally, as if it would make any less puddles where he stood. "Sorry, you were the first house I saw when it started really pouring. Didn't mean 'ta muck up your front mat. Promise."

Cleo sighs again, but a weasel of affection manages its way into their chest regardless. They tilt their head back and forth, as if they were weighing their options, as if there were really any options to weight. Eventually, a smile worms onto her face as they take a step forward, rocking on her heels.

"Well... I can't have you goin' out in this rain, can I..." she muses. "Knowin' you, you'll get all achey and collapse halfway."

X makes a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, muffled by his helmet.

"Ah—rude!" he grumbles. Cleo snorts.

"And truthful," she protests, poking him in the chest, meeting damp, ungiving armor. She waves a hand at him, shaking her head. "C'mon then, let's get you outta this. Least you can do is let me see your face."

X sighs, making a collection of sounds Cleo tries to classify as an argument, but none that form actual words. He starts with his chestplate as Cleo moves around him, dropping down to help weasel off the plates around his knees and shins. It takes some fiddling with the metal buckles, tugging until pieces come loose enough to slip over his shoes, tugging the chestplate over his head, laying everything out to drip-dry in an area less trafficked than the front step. Xisuma hands her his helmet as he toes out of his boots, stepping carefully to a place not yet damp by his own doing. As Cleo turns back to him, she catches him halfway through combing back his hair, a small frown screwing up his features. His nose crinkles as his fingers catch in his dark hair, trying to detangle what the helmet tugged free from the tie he'd held it back with. The score across his face crinkles with his nose, seemingly deepening the furrow of his eyebrows just from where it crossed his face. Cleo hums. Xisuma's washed-out eyes snap up. He snorts, wrinkling his face in earnest at Cleo.

"Happy?" he grumbles, but all the annoyance in his voice is feigned. She grins, beaming at him. 

"Very!" She says as she steps past, pausing to pat his cheek. "You need'a change of clothes, love?"

Xisuma shakes his head as her hand falls away. There's a look just underneath the wrinkle of his face that Cleo's pretty sure is fondness. Smug, maybe. Cleo nearly snorts again. At least he was dry now. The bastard.

"Nah, stuff underneath's just fine," he says. "Maybe a blanket though."

Cleo waves a hand back to the space behind them as they step away and into the base proper.

"Go pick around, I'll put the kettle on."

X clicks his tongue.

"Aw," he muses. "Bless you."

Cleo laughs. She wanders into the kitchen as she speaks, lifting the half empty kettle back into the stove and weaseling open the top. 

"Well you're damn lucky I like you, X," she says, picking a mug from the counter. "I don't do this for just anyone, y'know."

"I'm aware!" X says cheerily. 

It takes a moment for the kettle to finally boil, but soon enough, Cleo carries in a mug of hot tea to the living area, and sets it down within arms reach of X, comfortably contorted on their couch. He lifts his head slightly, blinking contentedly at the cup before he pats the space beside him. Cleo tilts her head.

"You know I've got work to do, X," they start. 

"So do I," Xisuma argues. "But I was told I have to be dry first. So the least I can do is enact the same fate on you."

Cleo gasps, laughing.

"So cruel!" She says, rounding the table and claiming her rightful spot next to him. Xisuma giggles, shifting a little to face her as she settles, knees touching. She smiles, reaching up after a moment to cup his face in her hands. He relaxes into her as she does, going easy as she brings his face down to kiss the space between his eyebrows. Cleo stays for a moment, nose to his forehead, as X rests his hands on their knees. 

"There we are," she hums. "Nice and cozy, eh?"

Xisuma sighs. He sounds content.

"Very."

[chirpsythismorning]

📝 💐 🛼 💔⏪️💭🧊🌄❤️‍🩹

Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode

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