#yes this is one of my favorite pieces of content ever

[love-songs-for-emma]

giving my cat brain damage by making him watch dane cook's 2005 comedy special vicious circle with me

[batbunker]

It's wild that we have to actually beg DC "fans" to consume a drop of actual canon content.

Never will I stop with the steadfast notion that folks in the DPXDC fandom should interact with at least some form of canon DC media.

There are comics, tv shows, radio dramas both old and new, podcasts, movies, magazines, so much shit that intentionally avoiding the media is simply preventing yourself from spawning new ideas and gaining a new appreciation for a fandom that you’re already in.

The Superman Radio Show has episodes 11 minutes long. A lot of the TV shows don’t have episodes that surpass 30 minutes and most are nearly fully clipped on the official DC YouTube channel. The amount of fan made motion comics is astounding. The amount of fanmade animations is equally as incredible.

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

[cockkette]

summer lovin’

lando norris x reader

warnings - somewhat chaotic lando and reader, mentions of pregnancy, insinuation of smut, some swearing, i think that’s it xoxo

face claims - girls on pinterest

y/n.l/n

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend and 193,982 others

y/n.l/n: patiently waiting for the summer break 🙃🌊

comments

landonorris: i miss you baby 🧡

y/n.l/n: aww i miss you too baby

user1: they are so cute

landonorris: i miss that fat ass too 😏

liked by y/n.l/n

user1: i spoke too soon

user2: every night i pray for a normal lando and y/n interaction and everyday my prayers are denied

liked by mclaren

user3: lando is one of god's favorites y/n is so fine

user4: alexa play that should be me by justin beiber

user5: tbh i don't know who i want to be more

user6: B O A F boaf

mclaren: please bring lando back in one piece

y/n.l/n: no promises xx

user7: sending my thoughts and prayers to the mclaren pr team during the summer break

liked by mclaren

y/n.l/n: you can't blame me he has me so down bad i think i'm getting withdrawal symptoms

oscarpiastri: nurse she's out again

y/n.l/n: boo👎👎

user8: woof woof bark bark

landonorris: that's my job

user9: petition to save y/n from this loser

liked by yourbestfriend

y.n/l/n

liked by landonorris, mclaren and 252,099 others

tagged : landonorris

y/n.l/n: date nights are the best nights 🌅

comments

landonorris: the best way to start summer break, i couldn't think of anyone else i would rather have with me 🧡

y/n.l/n: ha you 'like' like me loser 🤣👉

landonorris: i take it back

y/n.l/n: 👎

user10: y/n is so real for that

user11: the only relationship ever

user12: they are my parents they just don't know it

user13: the fits always go hard

landonorris: you know it

oscarpiastri: please don't feed his ego

user14: oscar is so sick of his bs

mclaren: we all are

user15: LANY/N SUMMER BREAK CONTENT!!!

lilymhe: i miss you!

landonorris: you facetimed her 2 hours ago

lilymhe: SHUT UP

y/n.l/n: SHUT UP (affectionately)

landonorris: aww you love me 😁😁

liked by y/n.l/n

francisca.cgomes: is that portugal!

y/n.l/n: yep you convinced me!

liked by francisca.cgomes

user16: she's so fine 🤭

landonorris: yes she is and she's mine

y/n.l/n: cutie <3

user17: when will it be my turn

lando.priv

liked by y/n.l/n, danielricciardo and 42 others

tagged: y/n.l/n

lando.priv: date nights are fun but so is a night in

comments

carlossainz55: mate..

y/n.l/n: 🤭🤭

liked by lando.priv

maxverstappen1: i think it's time to put the phone away

charles_leclerc: i agree

lando.priv: haters

maxverstappen1: correct 👍

oscarpiastri: this is better than actually hearing it from the drivers room ig

y/n.l/n: soz babes xoxo

danielricciardo: goooo landooo 💪💪

lando.priv: finally some support, it's hard out here guys

carlossainz55: i bet it was

landonorris

liked by y/n.l/n, yourbestfriend and 538,299 others

tagged: y/n.l/n

landonorris: happy anniversary to the prettiest, kindest and smartest girl, i have spent 3 years loving you and i know i will spend the rest of my life loving you 💕

comments

y/n.l/n: i'm not crying you are

landonorris: darling i can hear you from the kitchen

y/n.l/n: get over here then!!

landonorris: sprinting over right now

y/n.l/n: good x

user17: walk him like a dog

georgerussell63: mate i'm getting whiplash from the difference between this post and your private post

landonorris: i'm a man of many talents

y/n.l/n: he really is

georgerussell63: you both disgust me 🤮

user18: GEORGE WHAT DO YOU KNOW

user19: screaming crying throwing up i love them your honour!!

user20: same but i'm screaming without the s looking at y/n

lilymhe: real

alex_albon: LILY!?

user21: lily is one of us

liked by lilymhe and y/n.l/n

y/n.l/n: i can't wait to spend the rest of my life showing you how much i love you, how proud of you i am and how super hot you are 💕💕

landonorris: fuck sake now i'm crying

landonorris: i am super hot though

user22: i knew they couldn't be wholesome for that long

y/n.l/n: what can i say it's part of our charm 🙃

user23: i need y/n's whole wardrobe rn!

y.n/l/n posted two stories

y/n.l/n

liked by landonorris, lilymhe and 158,890 others

y/n.l/n: great food and the best company!

comments

landonorris: i helped make the food btw 💪

olivernorris1: no... you just watched

landonorris: it's called moral support!

user24: at least he tried...

savnorris: lovely to see you darling, the girls have been asking for auntie y/n all day 😂

y/n.l/n: lovely to see you too! i miss them so much they are adorable!

user25: AUNTIE Y/N ARE YOU KIDDING

user26: THAT IS SO CUTE

flonorris1: i already miss you

y/n.l/n: i miss you too 💕

landonorris: girlfriend stealer 😠

flonorris1: stop being jealous that someone else had her attention for more than 2 seconds 🙄

landonorris: no.

user27: he's literally a child 🤣🤣

liked by flonorris1

user28: lando arguing with half of his family in the comments is taking me out

user29: norris family dinners seem so fun

y/n.l/n: they are!

lando.priv

liked by y/n.l/n, oscarpiastri and 38 others

tagged: y/n.l/n

lando.priv: your so hot have my babies please 🙏🙏🙏

comments

georgerussell63: you're getting blocked mate

y/n.l/n: if you insist...

lando.priv: hehehehe

y/n.l/n: nevermind that made me feel ill

lando.priv: sorry i let the dawg out 💔💔

alex_albon: the thought of mini landos is stressing me out

y/n.l/n: i think they would be cute 🫣

lando.priv: will be*

charles_leclerc: my children are on this app please stop this madness

oscarpiastri: thank you for speaking out

olliebearman: i'm scared dad

y/n.l/n

liked by yourbestfriend, landonorris and 328,912 others

tagged: landonorris

y/n.l/n: a staycation to end the summer break with my love

comments

landonorris: who is that absolute stunner on the last slide 🫦

y/n.l/n: idk he's pretty hot though do you think i could get his number

landonorris: yeah he totally likes you 😉

user30: ahhh they are so cute it's not fair

user31: i cannot wait for the wags to be reunited

user32: fr we need more wag content

yourbestfriend: i can't wait for summer break to be over so you will spend your time with me instead of him xxx

liked by y/n.l/n

landonorris: noooo

user33: the f1 world has never seen a better rivalry than these two

user34: lando and 'yourbestfriend' are my verstappen and hamilton

maxverstappen1: understandable

lewishamilton: i can't disagree with that

mclaren: we can't wait to see you both back in the paddock 🧡

y/n.l/n: i got a new papaya coloured dress especially for the occasion

landonorris: this isn't fair you look so good in it i won't be able to concentrate on the race 🫦

y/n.l/n: shut up 🤭

user35: what is lando doing in the last picture 🤣

alex_albon: he worries me

georgerussell: he's my sleep paralysis demon

y/n.l/n: he's a cutie leave him alone!

landonorris: yeah!

landonorris: my girlfriend is so hot

y/n.l/n: my boyfriend is so hot

landonorris: 🥰

user36: he is so down bad it's getting embarrassing

landonorris posted a story

this story has been deleted

a/n - thank you for reading i hope you enjoyed! i’m thinking of doing a part two so any feedback or suggestions would be fab <3

[tsukimefuku]

3rd of july ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ nanami kento

piece written in collaboration with my beloved friend and one of my favorite people, @rahuratna, for nanami's (a.k.a. internet's collective husbando) birthday. 💜🧡 content warning: fluff/comedy/sugestiveness word count: 1k

Nanami wasn't one to make big celebrations on his birthday. Up until he met you, he'd usually go about his work day quietly, saving up a few extra hours to simply go bowling or visit his favorite restaurants for dinner.

After you both started dating, not much had changed. You'd simply tag along for whatever he had planned, and would usually surprise him with something by the time you both got home - a box of dark chocolate, a new set of lingerie, a nice warm scented bath, a new CD album he had been looking for.

This time, however, you decided to push your luck on teasing the poor man.

On his birthday, of all days.

"Kento, how do you feel about surprise parties?" you ask, hiding the smile pulled on your cheeks behind your tea cup.

On the couch by your side, you could feel Nanami holding the urge to flinch the moment you were finished speaking.

"They are not my favorite," he answers in earnest.

"Seriously?" you inquire with a faux disheartened look.

"Yes," Nanami replies, with a tinge of concern to his voice.

"That is... unfortunate, then," you ensue, putting your tea on the coffee table and pulling your robe tighter around your body.

His Adam's apple bobs as he silently gulps.

"Why?"

"Well, my plan was to surprise you when you got home, but I figured you wouldn't want to get instantly jumped. So I told them to wait in the room," you finally say, with a grave finality, pointing to the closed bedroom door.

Truth is, he has no clue what you are really up to.

"Darling…" Nanami sighs, ever so patiently, "I thought it would just be the both of us unwinding, like the past years."

"I… I'm sorry, I really wanted to surprise you with something different this time."

You do sound regretful, and he plants a soft kiss on your cheek in response. Even now, he doesn't quite find it in himself to be annoyed at you, even if the prospect of Gojo lurking around his bedroom is enough to send disgusted shivers down his spine.

"It's… fine. Let's get this over with at once, and then have the house to ourselves."

"Are you sure? I could always go in there and tell them to-"

"No," he counters firmly. "You've arranged something a little different this year, and I'm going to appreciate it."

"Come on, then."

As perceptive as he is, Nanami doesn't notice the mischievous smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Naturally, since you have successfully planted a seed in his mind, a terrifying image of his pristine suits being tried on by students and his custom made bowling ball being transformed into a disco light by the white-haired menace he calls a colleague.

When you reach the door and step aside for him, he visibly braces himself, fingers almost straightening a phantom tie at his throat.

"Sweetheart, I need to go and fetch a scarf. It's a little chilly in here."

Bless his heart. He's actually playing along.

You raise your voice.

"Oh, I left the blue one on the top shelf. Your closet."

"Right."

Nanami heads in with the air of a man charging from the trenches to face a volley of cannon fire. He stops dead in his tracks, eyes taking in the room.

It is empty of people, for starters.

The comforter on the bed has been pulled back, the white sheets scattered with rose petals. Candles have been placed strategically on the bedside table and vanity, emitting the subtle scent of the ocean. On a corner of the bed, a few ribbon-wrapped gifts await; a small stack of books and a box of his favourite dark chocolate with orange.

You saunter in behind him and he turns to you with a look that is both a solemn reprimand and a loving promise of a punishment you may appreciate later.

"Hmm. It's awfully crowded in here, my dear."

"Well, the rose petals were quite chatty, Kento. They've taken up all the space on our bed."

"They have indeed, you little-"

You laugh as you slip out of his reach, standing coyly in the doorway.

"Have a look at your gifts first."

He narrows his eyes, but approaches the bed, fingers unraveling the ribbon that holds the books together.

"What do we have here? 'The Master and Margarita.' Ah, wonderful. 'Bowling your way home: A salaryman's escape from bondage.'"

He pauses and raises an eyebrow and you gesture airily for him to keep going.

"Fine. What's this one? The-"

His voice cuts off abruptly.

"Kento? Are you all right?"

Very slowly, he turns to you.

"You got me the Kama Sutra?"

"I figured it would make a nice addition to your collection. I may even borrow it, from time to time."

You approach him now, casually opening the book to where you've placed a strategic leather marker within the section on sex positions.

"Since it's your birthday, maybe you'd like to start with the Virsha here?"

He considers the page seriously, before taking the book from you and flipping through it.

"I'm not sure, darling. You've put in enough effort setting all of this up."

Handing it back to you, he watches the flush that spreads upwards, across your neck as you are presented with the Indrani pose he has chosen instead.

"How about you let me do the work from here on out?"

"Well... "

"No, I insist."

His voice has that special intonation now, the husky rumble of desire, the inflection of hushed intimacy, the promise of that playful nature that only reveals itself when you're entangled in the sheets together.

You lay the book down, open to the very instructive illustration.

"In that case, let me present you with my last gift."

"There's another?"

Wordlessly, the robe you've been so studiously arranging around yourself slides to the floor. His kindling gaze takes in the sheer, violet lace, the tiny flowers embroidered strategically over the parts of you that he will discover at leisure.

***

Later, when the gossamer material lies discarded on the floor, when his exhausted limbs entwine with your own, when his golden hair runs like silk between your fingers, you speak into the hush of the bedroom.

"Happy birthday, my love."

His voice is muffled from where his face is pressed against your stomach.

"That was quite the surprise party."

"Maybe we should have one every year."

He snorts indignantly, but his lips curve in a smile against your skin all the same.

[ode2rin]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, “can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[the-golden-comet]

Lately on my dash, I have been seeing lots of wonderful mutuals get too hard on their beautiful minds.

Lovelies, your stories and art are beautiful because they are from you, and FOR you. Stats do not determine the quality of a product. Again, some of the BEST stories on the archive I have ever read were around 100 hits, and 0-10 kudos. Some of the BEST ART I’ve seen has 0 notes.

You know how I can tell? Because the authors and artists poured their heart and soul into their craft. As long as it can inspire ONE person, you should be proud. You just radically changed the life and perspective of ONE person. That’s amazing.

Sure, you might think your art or story is “cringe” or “bad”…OR, it can be someone’s comfort piece that they go back to after a long day. You may see your stats and think, “man, nobody enjoys this,” not knowing that maybe, juuuust maybe, you have that ONE person who you’ve inspired, who loves your work, and lurks your socials awaiting for your next project. Your art, your music, YOUR story has the potential to do that, but you have to love what YOU do.

And yes, your love WILL show. Maybe not with stats, or kudos, or notes, or comments. But you may be someone’s favorite without even knowing. As long as your art is out there, it WILL reach somebody. I will try to be that somebody for a lot of you, but there is indeed A LOT of you.

In a world where media is being “consumed” for “content,” remember that ART comes from the heART (sorry not sorry for being cheesy). Artists, Writers, Poets, Musicians, Sculptors, HUMANS: Get your hearts out there for the world to see. The world needs more motivated minds. 💫

[catching-the-light]

wc: 1.2k

[18+ only]

content: mentions of oral sex [f receiving], unprotected sex and cockwarming [very brief]

[just a little something i wrote. pretty much all smut with little to no plot.]

With the side of her face pressed down into the mattress and hips snapping against her ass - all that flooded her ears were his deep grunts, the sound of skin clashing and her lewd moans. He had woken her up in the middle of the night, but she didn’t mind. She had given him permission to wake her up whenever he needed it. More specifically, she had even given him permission to wake her up by kissing her right between her plush thighs. It was one of her favorite things - waking up to her boyfriend eating her out. She didn’t understand how he could be so good at it. All her previous boyfriends had complained when she asked for it. They would say it made their jaw hurt. That they didn’t like the thought of putting their tongue down there, but they never did complain when she would put her tongue on them.

Harry was unlike any other man she had met. He doted on her. He took care of her. He provided for her. If it were up to him, (Y/N) would never have to lift a finger, but he knew that his girl also liked being self-sufficient. He both admired and loathed how independent she could be sometimes. He loved how strong she was, but sometimes it scared him. He couldn’t help but wonder every now and then what would happen if (Y/N) realized she didn’t need him anymore - didn’t want to be his anymore. Harry was sure that his heart would never be mended if that happened.

(Y/N) was his everything. He never had a love like her before, and he had no intention of having another love ever. He was going to marry her. That was a cold hard fact.

“Harry,” she whimpered as she brought one of her hands back and behind her.

He knew what she wanted, and he gave it to her. Placing his large hand in hers, he intertwined their fingers - flexing his to give hers a soft squeeze.

“Feeling good, baby?” Harry’s chin rested against his chest as he looked down at where his thick cock entered his girlfriend.

(Y/N) just hummed in response, but that wasn’t enough for Harry. Propping one foot up on the mattress, he brought his freehand down and swatted at one of her ass cheeks. “You know that’s not going to cut it.”

Stopping his thrusts, he pulled out which caused (Y/N) to gasp, and she looked over her shoulder at him with wide eyes. She was flipped onto her back faster than she could blink.

Harry’s hands came down to her thighs, and he pushed them apart before plunging back inside of her with one fluid roll of his hips.

“Oh my god,” (Y/N) moaned with her eyes screwed shut. “You’re so fucking deep, H.”

Smirking to himself, Harry leaned down and scraped his teeth against his beautiful girlfriend’s jawline. “Do you like that, (Y/N)? Feeling me so deep in there?”

“Yes, yes,” she panted as he started pounding into her once more. “I love it when you’re this deep. I feel you all the way…all the way in here.”

Placing a hand over her lower stomach, (Y/N) pressed down - eliciting a groan from Harry and another mewl of pleasure from her with just how good that felt. 

(Y/N) was never properly fucked before, and Harry caught onto that by the first time they slept together. She made him work for it, something he didn’t mind doing by any means, but when the time actually came, he was seething at her past lovers at what he had seen. Sexy and confident (Y/N) had retreated into a shell of herself the moment he had her laid out on his mattress. She had asked him to turn almost all the lights off, and the ones that were left on had been turned down. She had asked that he not remove her bra, and that he just pull her panties to the side. It pained him to realize that she didn’t want him to see her fully naked.

That changed before Harry entered her that night. He took his time to kiss over every inch of her skin. To compliment every piece of her that he could see. He let her know that she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen in the world. The most beautiful woman to ever be in his bed. He made it clear that no one before her ever compared, and that no one ever would.

By the time he took her home the next morning, (Y/N) had allowed Harry to take her in four different positions, resulting in six orgasms total. It was obvious to both of them that they’d never get enough of each other just after that one night. 

“Squeezin’ my cock so tight. You’re gonna have me coming sooner than I want to,” Harry huffed out a laugh at himself, and it caused (Y/N) to also giggle. “But, fuck, honey, you just feel too damn good. Such a snug little thing.”

His words had (Y/N)’s cunt pulsing around him even more, and he could tell she was right on the edge of her orgasm. 

Sucking on the pad of his thumb, Harry brought it down to start rubbing precise circles against his girlfriend’s clit, and that had her arching her back off the bed.

“Holy shit,” she gasped - toes curling and fists clenching against the pale pink sheets surrounding them. “I’m about to cum.”

Harry watched as (Y/N) threw her head back which resulted in her pretty neck being completely exposed to him. He could feel her walls beginning to clamp down around him, and with one more deep thrust, her orgasm gushed around his length.

“Good girl,” he crooned, leaning down to kiss over (Y/N)’s collarbone. “Such a good girl f’me.”

Once she felt like the air had properly returned to her lungs, (Y/N) blinked her eyes open to stare at the gorgeous man above her.

“Fill me up, please,” she pouted her lips at him as she tapped her fingertips against the spot on her stomach that she had pressed down on earlier. “Right in here.”

“Yeah?” Harry smirked as he gripped onto her hips and angled them up just a little more. “Want it tucked up in there?”

“Mhmm,” (Y/N) hummed with a nod of her head. “I like it when it’s up there that far. It takes longer to drip out of me, and I like feeling it for as long as I can.”

(Y/N) could be dirty when she wanted to be, but he had never heard her say something like that to him before. Choking out a moan, Harry felt the warmth in his lower abdomen boil over, and before he could process it, he was shooting his load inside her slick pussy.

Biting down on her bottom lip, (Y/N) reeled from the feeling of Harry pumping his cum into her. He didn’t stop until he felt like he couldn’t hold himself up with his shaky arms anymore. He collapsed against her chest, and she wrapped her arms around him as they both continued to come down from their highs.

“I love when you wake me up in the middle of the night like that,” (Y/N) played with Harry’s curls as she spoke. “Can we fall back asleep like this?”

“Sure, baby,” Harry puckered a kiss to the top of one of her breasts. “And then when we wake up in a few hours, I’ll continue fucking that same load into you before giving you another."

[hoshigray]

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 & 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 | ryōmen sukuna

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - heian era! au-ish - itty bitty degradation - biting/nibbling - tw: cannibalism + blood kink - clitoral play - choking - scratching - lotus + missionary positions - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (little bird/one, plaything, pet) - possessive behavior - shit gets kinda . . . intense - mentions of blood (like, LOTS of it), drool/spit, and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

“Hah…ahh….”

It felt cold… everything was dark…and pain ignited all around your body…

“Keheh, wake the hell up, little one. Who said you could sleep?”

And the person responsible for your suffering gets a kick out of it.

Anything and everything is beneath the King of Curses, a piece of information that isn’t just a fact to the cursed behemoth but a law — no one and nothing is exempt from this rule. Anyone is free to prove him wrong, but know that most, if not all, have met their end trying to dismantle themselves from this philosophy. Arrogant fools are what he’d call them: maggots that deserved to be squashed, trash that deserved to be incinerated…and food meant to appease his appetite.

To Sukuna, humans are worth nothing more than inconsequential pieces of walking meat and bones wrapped together. A human himself, however, the cursed man is far too superior even to believe that he was once intimidated to fit within their flimsy expectations. Their labels and ways of living mean nothing to him; they are beliefs that only further the idicracy of the human mind, which never fail to astound him. Yet, the more delusional they are, the more tastier.

And the same goes for you, his fragile, feeble, and delicious little flower.

There have been many humans the man has consumed in his life, the tender muscles of corpses being his favorite treat to shred with his teeth, and the coppery taste of the thick blood that quenches his thirst. There’s no doubt in his mind: human flesh is ever so delectable. And judging from tonight, it’s even more so when he has you under his submission.

You were nude like always, stripped of your robes to expose your body for him, pristine from any dirt or force that wasn’t his. Like many nights before, you sat on him with Sukuna’s lower arms holding you by the thighs as your legs sprawled around his massive figure. Both his cocks out to marvel at, one of them stuffed inside and stretching the opening of your hole, your mouth stuck permanently agape because of the girth you could never prepare for. 

There was a chill in the autumn night, contrasting to the warmth inside Sukuna’s chambers, both from the candles basking a glow into the room and the exchange within the union of your bodies. Sweat travels down to your body and ass and connects with the skin of his thighs as he ruts into you. Your frame rocks with every motion, prompting squeakier sound out of your system, and constant shudders rattle your spine with every brush of his unattended cock on your tummy.

“Ahhh, nmmmfuck, ‘Kunaaa,” you call out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you burry into the crook. “My Lord, ohmy—Nmmm! Feels…so good…”

“Yes, little bird?” His deep voice relaxes you. “What feels good? Hmm?” You receive a sharp thrust to your inner channel, causing you to bounce on his thighs with a sharp cry. “Answer me?”

“—Mmnph, ohGod, you feel so good!” You whine from his tip brushing your sweet spots with ease, and the outer cock grinding on your clit has you gasping for air. “Y-You make me feel so gooood…”

The cursed being chuckles darkly to you ear that you nearly melt. “How pathetic, all it takes is my cock to have you crying like a whore.” Another rut marks a hit to your cervix. You scream aloud, and he grins broader. “Must be like that to any man who can treat you with themselves.”

“Neverrr,” you slur out, drool on the verge of escaping after receiving another poke to your womb, a deadly attack when you already have to endure the onslaught of swipes on your clitoris. “No one can ever please me like you—Oooh—you do! No one can ever replace you, my Lord—“

“Who said anything about replacing me?” His upper right hand comes to your throat to choke; the sudden restriction of breath has you twitching on his cock like crazy. “I’ll be damned if you even have the gal to think of having some other insolent brat take my place.” The mere thought of another’s hands roaming around your body — what was his by all rights — fueled a subtle anger, the hold on your airways getting tighter.

You look to him with lustful eyes, void of fear and filled with love instead. Just pitiful, you amuse him. “Of course not, my Lord, I –I would never be foolish enough to do that.” your daze was getting worse, and you couldn’t stop clasping onto his girth. “I belong to no one…Hahhhh, no one else but Ryomen Sukuna, my Lord…my King.” 

Good. Sukuna scoffs and brings you to him, and you shiver as his tongue runs up your trapezius. “Don’t you ever forget that, pet — you are mine, my plaything forever and always, till you bore me or I rid you of this Earth myself.” And then he sinks his teeth into the skin, tears now falling with the ignited wince of pain. “Understand?”

“Yesss!” You moan, “I belong to you and…no one else.”

His tongue then licks around your inflicted wound, a bit of your blood escaping the dents he indicted lather onto his wet muscle. Your taste sparks on his tastebuds, and he hums as he licks it.

Then, all of a sudden…he wishes to taste more.

He inflicts another bite, piercing his teeth deeper than before, and you wail with another spasm of tightness around his dick. Fuck, oh, now he’s enjoying this even more. “More, more.” Another bite is placed on your neck, and your eyebrows knit together as your hands ball into fists. “I said give. Me. More!”

Before you could even register, Sukuna’s teeth grind roughly on your neck and tear off the skin, your flesh stuck into his mouth and blood spraying and dripping down. At first, you don’t realize it until your eyes flicker, and you sense the source of a brief shutdown. Then comes the bundles of nerves activating to indicate something is wrong, and a giant wave of aches permeates around your neck. You see a deep scarlet coat on your neck, your chest, and his lips. And you shriek.

“S-SUKUNA!?!” A million thoughts travel at the speed of light. “Wh-What’s going on?! Why are you—AUGHH!” He pins you down to the futon, and the clean white sheets now begin to harbor shades of red. He switches the cock inside you with the outer; the one sheathed with your slick grinds on the crevice of your ass.  

“Quiet, pet.” He commands with his upper hands, caging yours, drinking more of your blood pouring from your neck. “I’m famished.” He chews on more of your muscle, gulping and slurping and chewing and gnawing at any bit of you his teeth can latch onto. Your screams grow mute to him, his focus on your inner taste.

And that’s not the only thing you’re wailing and trying to squirm out of; Sukuna’s mouth of his stomach has a mind of its own, the tongue licking on your stomach before nibbling on the flesh. Your feeble attempts to try and kick are worthless, the man keeping a firm grip on your ankles. It isn’t long before he tears the skin off your abdomen as well, more hues of carmine drenching the futon.

Shouts go louder and louder as every new wave of pain hits you one after the other, tears striking down your cheeks as you sob aloud and beg for your master to reconsider. But it’s too late; the man is already drunk on your gummy muscles and thick blood. You tasted sweet, juicy, and tender. The smell of copper and its metallic taste furthers his drive for more, getting way too turned on by this.

Your throat is running dry from the constant eruptions of screams you release, broken cries bouncing off the shoji frames and panels, yet no one is around or awake to rescue you at this hour. And even if they were, no one would dare come into the domain of the King of Curses. No one would be dumb enough to try and stop the behemoth from hammering his cock into your figure as he eats you alive.

And the worst part about it…is how oddly good you still feel from it!

Sukuna doesn’t stop pistoning himself into you, even with both mouths full of your flesh torn off of your limbs. His length feverishly hits your womb to the point of your head pounding, and spontaneous grazes to your G-spot leave you rolling your eyes in the air. His sharp nails pierce into your thighs, and more trails of blood paint around your body as he scratches deep into your skin. Is it normal for your cunt to be spasming like crazy as the tongue of his stomach digs inside you to slurp on your intestines? No, it cannot be, it’s wrong to think so…so why the fuck do you feel so fucking good?!

“—Ghaahh, fuck,” he swears with hot breath, his mouth so damp with your blood that his tanned skin harbors a literal mess. Everything is a mess — you, him, this futon, this room, this entire night. And that does nothing to shatter Sukuna’s ego. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck—Nnmmgh!! Shit, I’m gonna cum…! Gonna fucking….Ffffahhahh!!”Hips go fucking wild, bucking into your aching, sore chasm like nothing, chasing for his release that he can feel creeping in. The more your vaginal walls wring him out, the more he throws his pelvis at you; the sounds of skin slapping against each other increase in volume. 

Finally, with a loud groan, Sukuna goes still and allows himself to burst his essence into you, the pool of his orgasm consuming him into a state of euphoria that has him elated more than ever. He’s huffing so hard above you, sweat now running cold as the clarity pecks him while the shocks entertain him before they subside.

However, everything still feels hot, you still feel warm on his cock, and your blood masks him from the cool air. Sukuna lifts his face to look at what he’s done, and no ounce of pride can be hidden from how big his grin is.

You lay there, legs twitching uncontrollably and skin drenched with nothing but red. Any attempts to speak are impossible, your throat so dry and your voice low and destroyed from exerting so much force earlier. And your eyes, typically shining with life and happiness that pairs with your smile, now display nothing — pure lifeless, dwindling out like the candle flames as your color fades with the anguish you’ve been bestowed with your flickering vitality. Pieces of your flesh, torn muscle, and a pool of blood are left as your final resting place.

He could heal you and stop the bleeding, save you from the face of death before you bleed out. But it wouldn’t be like him if he didn’t admire the view of his work after ravishing his meal. His crimson gaze gleams with a dark amusement as he chuckles.

“My tasty little bird.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[unlimitedlust]

Chokehold - Noah Sebastian x Reader (+18)

Author's Note:

Heyy, I've had this idea in my head for a while now and it took me some time to finally write it so I hope y'all like it!!

I'm new to this fandom and this is my very first Noah Sebastian fanfiction, but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Disclaimers: as any other content in this blog, this is a highly NSFW smutty story so if you're not into this kind of explicit content I advise you not to read it. Here you'll have a bit of plot and lots of porn, unprotected p in v (be safe out there), oral (f receiving), Noah being a giver, alcohol and lots of explicit descriptions.

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes I eventually skipped while proof-reading it.

I wrote it to Sleep Token's "Chokehold", "Take Me Back To Eden" and "The Summoning", and also to Bad Omens' "The Death Of Piece Of Mind" and "What It Cost", so if you're into listening to something while reading, I recommend you these songs.

WC: 4.7K

Enjoy your time here and if you enjoy it, feel free to leave it a like and/or to reblog the story, your feedback is what keeps me writing!!

End of Author's Note

-0-

You were Bad Omens’ photographer for the tour, the one responsible for taking all the pictures the fans would go feral online, especially Noah’s, and you couldn’t help but to keep giving them more material, because even though you’d never admit it, you’d also secretly had a deep crush on him. 

The guys from the band and the crew would often joke about how Noah’s pictures were the best ones and how you privileged him over the rest of the band, but you always dismissed the subject by saying that it wasn’t your fault he had the better angle since he was the lead singer. It was true in some aspects, yes, but your skills for taking fantastic pictures no matter how challenging the circumstance was were undeniable, so in the end of the day, it wasn’t hard to reach the conclusion that Noah was your favorite.

You often caught yourself admiring the pictures you took of him, his perfect angelical features in contrast with his tattoo covered skin, the way his eyes would catch the lens like he was staring right into your soul through the camera separating you.

But that was all coming to an end tonight.

They’d just played their last concert of the tour and you’d all agreed to make a small (kind of) party to celebrate it at the boys’ place.

You felt bittersweet towards the event. You were happy to be partying with them and being able to enjoy the moment without the concern of taking the perfect pictures. But on the other hand, you were sad you wouldn’t be seeing the band daily anymore and you’d miss them because you’d gotten attached to them and to their jokes, and also (and obviously) because you wouldn’t be seeing Noah anymore.

Your flight home for the morning after the party was already booked and you’d already checked in to save you some time.

So you sighed when you walked inside the big house in front of you. You, like always, held your confident and unwavering poise before everyone, but deep down you were uneasy. Was this the last time you’d be seeing him? In how long? Or ever?

You couldn’t hear the sounds of your heels clicking on the wooden floor because at each step you got closer to the party where loud music was blasting and you soon found the small crowd of people in the main living room already having their own fun.

You felt an arm hooking on yours and suddenly Folio was pulling you through the people towards the rest of the band and you couldn’t help but to smile at the unexpected gesture.

Your heart raced and your cheeks burned as you got closer to Noah, who’d been watching you from the moment you arrived, but you played it cool like always as you got to them and Ruffilo immediately put a bottle of beer in your hand.

Noah couldn’t take his eyes off you. 

You didn’t know that, but he also had a strong crush on you and all of the band knew it. He always told them it was just a small crush and they should ignore it just as he did (or tried), because he wanted to keep it professional between you two.

But when you got to his sight and he saw you wearing that black leather crop top, with thin straps on your shoulders, just a zipper on the front imprisoning your breasts and highlighting your cleavage, along with a high-waisted skinny black skirt molding your curves and, mainly, your ass, bare toned legs on display and black boots on your feet, he was done.

You’d spent the last months practically living together in tour buses and stuff, but you always wore larger, baggy dark clothes that’d cover your body and blend you with the rest of the crew, so how well you looked caught not only Noah’s attention, but everyone else’s, the difference tonight was the fact that Noah just wouldn’t stop staring.

You felt confident, you knew you looked hot and secretly you’d chosen your clothes just for him, to impress him, to catch his attention. And your mission was successfully accomplished.

“Hey pretty” Noah reached his right arm out and pulled you to him in a side hug before kissing the top of your head.

“Hey handsome”

That exchange wasn’t new for you, it was like that every time you met, but this time, the way his lips lingered longer in your forehead as you inhaled his scent deeply got you very aware that something was different tonight. Was it because you were parting ways?

When he let you go he searched for the flustered expression you always had in your face when he did that, but sensed some apprehension instead, despite the grin forming on your lips.

Another thing you didn’t know is that Noah learned over time how to read you and he loved how cute you looked every time he got a shy smile out of your lips.

He loved how flustered you got when he gave the camera the looks he knew got you weak on your knees, because every time he did that, he saw how you unwittingly licked your lips as you checked out the pictures you’d just taken. And no, you didn’t have that same reaction over the pictures you took from the rest of the band, no matter how incredible they were.

“Gonna miss me now that the tour is over?” You teased him, taking a sip from your beer.

“Miss you? Why? We’re not going anywhere” Confusion splattered across Noah’s face as he had his full attention on you.

“You remember I live on the other side of the world right?”

His jaw visibly tensed when he finally processed the information you just brought him.

“Fuck…” Noah was frustrated “But you’re still coming for the barbecue tomorrow, right?” 

“Uh… Nope… My flight leaves early in the morning actually…” You felt guilty as the words came from your lips, the intensity of his glare over you stealing your breath as Noah looked like he’d just been stabbed.

“No, you can’t do that… Are you saying this is our last night with you until God knows when?”

He took a big gulp of his own beer, his knuckles white due to the hard grip on the bottle and on the counter behind him, until he sighed in defeat.

“Come on, it’s not like we’re never seeing each other again” You nudged him trying to cheer him up “All you gotta do is hire me as your photographer again” You winked at him and took another swing of your beer, but you didn’t miss the way he watched your lips wrapping around the bottle.

“You say it like we’ve fired you, but you forget you won’t get rid of us, and especially me that easy”

“Like I’d want to get rid of you” You rolled your eyes.

“You could’ve waited a little longer to go home though, are you that tired of looking at my face?” He teased, the smirk on his lips making you weak on your knees.

“Tired of looking at a catch like that? Never”

“You think I’m a catch? Good to know” The way his eyes burned as he looked at you up and down again raised goosebumps on your skin.

“You’re insufferable” 

“And you’re a terrible liar” He grabbed your hand “Now come on let’s have some fun”

The rest of the band along with other guests had gathered around the sofas in the middle of the room, all of them paying attention to Jolly, who was explaining the rules of the drinking game he’d just invented.

After a few drinks, beers and shots in, you along with anyone else got loose and the games that were tame at first got wilder as the night went on.

“Truth or dare, come on, never gets old and I’m dying for some revelations tonight” Folio spun an empty bottle in the center of the coffee table in front of them “bottom asks, top answers”

The bottle finally stopped spinning and you had the first round: Rufillo to Jolly.

Jolly chose dare and Rufillo made him drink 5 seconds of tequila.

Another spin. Folio to you.

“Come on honey, truth or dare?” He made the question with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Truth”

“Let’s heat things up a bit then: of the people in this room, who would you make out with?”

Your cheeks burned red with his question as all eyes were on you and the room went silent waiting for your answer. Yet you weren’t shy, the alcohol in your system had you bold at that point.

“Noah” 

“Yet you always deny he’s your favorite” Folio pretended to be offended.

You winked at Noah, who was sitting by your side, eyes narrowed in you as he raked them over you, visibly satisfied by your answer.

A few more rounds went by until the bottle landed on Noah.

“Truth or dare, buddy?” Folio had evil intentions in his eyes again and of course Noah wasn’t going to be spared.

“Dare”

“I dare you to take a body shot on the person you find the hottest in this room”

Noah left his place by your side as the boys brought him salt, a piece of lime and a shot of tequila. When he got up you felt your heart sinking in your chest with the realization he might choose another girl, but when he knelt in front of you, you lost your breath.

Noah rested his tattooed hands on your knees, uncrossed your legs and pulled you towards him, to the edge of the couch, the way he manhandled you catching you off guard as he was now between your legs and your skirt rose higher, getting dangerously shorter.

Heat pooled in your panties as you watched him lean you backwards and prepare you for the body shot. He placed the small glass of tequila in your cleavage, poured salt on your neck and the piece of lime between your lips.

“May I?” He splayed his hands on your thighs as the smug on his lips grew wider.

Since your lips were occupied by the piece of lime, you only nodded, watching him lick his lips as he leaned closer towards your neck. 

Noah took his time on licking the salt off your neck, swirling his tongue and kissing your skin in the process, then made his way down to your chest where his nose brushed against the valley of your breasts as he wrapped his lips around the shot glass to down it, and for last came up for the lime on your lips, his own ghosting over yours as he took it with his teeth, eyes locked on yours as he teased you in front of everyone, fingers sinking on your thighs as he seemed to be holding himself back.

Rufillo cleared his throat loudly and Noah quickly stood on his feet.

“Fuck I’m dizzy” Was all you could muster as you got up as well all flustered, pulling your skirt down as you headed for the kitchen for some water.

You were so aroused you didn’t know what to do with yourself. Your core ached between your legs as you pressed them together hoping for some friction. You chugged down a glass of cold water in a vain attempt to ease your nerves, but it wasn’t water you were thirsty for.

The feel of his tongue and lips on your neck still lingered, tingling, and you wondered what he would do to you if you weren’t surrounded by people.

“Thirsty?” Noah materialized behind you, practically caging you, but also keeping some distance.

His eyes were darker than usual, burning holes in yours as he waited for your answer, and you both knew very well that “water” wasn’t the subject, and since this was your last night with them, with him, you weren’t running away anymore.

“Been the whole tour” You fired back at him and he took a step closer.

“Same on my part” He cupped your cheek with one of his hands, his fingers entangling with the hair on your nape while his thumb traced your lips “It’s a shame we waited this long… If you only knew all the ways I’ve had you in my mind…”

His husky voice sent your shivers straight to your pussy at his confession, and you wanted nothing but to have at least a sneak peak of what he’d had in his head. If only he could know what’s been to yours as well.

“Well now I can’t seem to understand why are you taking so long to show me?”

“Is there someone in a hurry?”

“Since I have a flight in the morning…” His hand slid down to your neck, choking you.

“And who says you’re getting into that plane tomorrow?” You couldn’t help but to moan when he tightened his hand around your neck just enough to make you melt into his grip “Let’s get out of here”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your hand, guiding you upstairs towards his bedroom. You stood in the middle of his room waiting for his next step as he locked the door behind him, the predatory gaze sending shivers down your spine as he checked you out once again.

“You are so fucking beautiful”

You couldn’t help but to blush at his confession as he stood in front of you, both hands cupping your face, admiring your delicate features.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the first day I laid my eyes on you” He licked his lips, his eyes shifting from your lips to your eyes.

“Fucking kiss me, Noah”

“Thought you’d never ask”

He crashed his lips against yours and you felt your body going limp in his arms as he deepened the kiss. You let your fingers trail their way through his dark soft hair as his tongue explored yours, devouring you. He kissed you passionately and his hands roamed free over your body, you nibbled his lower lip and he pulled your hips closer, making sure you’d feel how hard he already was, pressing against your belly.

“If you don’t tell me to stop now, I won’t” He gasped, his restraint holding on by a thread.

“Who says I want you to stop?” Your hands slid down his chest to the hem of his shirt “I want your everything” You pulled his shirt upwards and he took the cue to help you take it off.

Your fingertips traced the tattoos on his body in admiration, every inch of him pure perfection in your eyes.

He kissed you again and guided you backwards to his bed, making your body collapse on it just as you felt your calves hitting its edge. Noah hovered over you, the thin chain around his neck dangling over you, almost touching your face as his hand ran up the side of your body from your outer thigh.

When he reached your ribcage, his fingers changed their path to the middle of your chest, to the zipper of your crop top, and you held your breath as he opened it slowly, eyes trained on you as the leather piece slowly slid off your breasts revealing them to him, nipples hard and sensitive on his full disposal.

“Fucking amazing”

Your lips met once more as he splayed one of his hands on one of your boobs, fondling it and pitching your nipple between his tattooed fingers. His body stood between your legs and you whimpered when he rubbed his clothed manhood against your aching center, covered only by helplessly damp lace panties.

His lips trailed kisses down your jaw towards your neck, where he now, very aware of your sensitivity in that area, covered your skin in with kisses and angry love-bites, clearly intending on marking you as his.

Your manicured nails ran up his back as his lips now peppered kisses down your clavicles to your chest, his mouth immediately latching on one of your breasts, suckling and nibbling your nipple, to then soothe the small sting with the softness of his tongue before switching his attention to the other.

You arched your back, legs spreading wider apart as you surrender yourself completely to his mercy, small cries of pleasure escaping your lips as you watched him, mouth and hands full of your boobs, the ache between your legs almost unbearable as you desperately needed him there, filling you.

“Noah please…” You pleaded as your legs tried to pull his hips to grind against you with no avail.

His voice was raw, deep and filled with lust: “Please what?” 

He teased, lips now traveling lower on your body, stopping only to give him enough room to take both your skirt and panties at once, throwing it randomly in his room.

“I need you to tell me what you want babe” He nibbled the skin right below your navel, and the realization of how close he was to your intimacy sent stronger shivers over your body as he kissed your inner thighs “Fuck you’re dripping”

“I need you inside me, please” You whined as his lips got closer to your hot center, his eyes admiring how glistening wet you already were for him before he blew his breath on you, making you quiver at the sensitivity.

“I will princess, but I need to taste you first”

Noah spread your legs wider apart and his tongue ran flat over your pussy, collecting and tasting all the arousal he could get, moaning against you as he finally got to taste you. His skilled tongue on your clit got you seeing stars in seconds as he worked on building your orgasm, and you prayed the music downstairs was loud enough to keep the rest of the party from hearing you, because you just couldn’t hold yourself back.

“You taste so fucking good”

Noah ate you like a starved man, feasting on you, taking pleasure in watching the sexed expressions on your face and how you helplessly writhed below him. He added a finger inside you as he kept working on you with his mouth, his long finger immediately finding the magic spongy spot inside you that made your legs shake around his neck as the pleasure knot forming on your lower belly threatened to explode violently at any second.

You tried to hold it back for as long as you could, but when he combined the work on your clit with his tongue along with a precise flick of his wrist, he forced the orgasm out of you in strong white hot waves of ecstasy, making you lose your senses for a few seconds as he rode your high.

Yet Noah didn’t stop.

Still eating you, he held you firmly and flipped you both on the bed, making you sit on his face. Your faltering legs threatened your balance, but his firm grip kept you up straight. 

You looked below you and the scene alone almost made you cum again. The pussy-drunk look on his face, the disheveled hair, the way half of his face was covered in your slick, dark eyes glossy as he looked up meeting yours as he kept lapping, sucking, overstimulating you on purpose.

“Oh my fuck N-Noah…” 

“Fuck my face babe” 

He growled against you, fingers sinking on your ass cheeks as you, still shaky, followed his command and started to roll your hips back and forth, allowing you to control the pace, the pressure, and to use his face on your own will.

You felt your climax blossoming inside you again as he kept devouring you, drinking in every drop he could take from you, his nose rubbing against your clit while he fucked you with his tongue. 

“Oh fuck… Noah…” Your orgasm bubbled up inside you again, but you were not ready for it yet, you were sure you’d collapse on top of him if he gave you another one in such a short time.

As if reading your thoughts Noah stopped, keeping you from falling apart so soon, but on the other hand edging you as you were so close to jumping off that cliff again.

You got off of his face and moved down his body to remove his pants and underwear, hurried, dying to feel him. He propped himself on his elbows and watched you undress him with shaky hands, the fucked out expression on your face making him want more of you.

Your jaw dropped when his cock sprung free, rock hard against his belly, head glistening with precum, the size and thickness doing justice to his height, and your throat went dry to the thinking of how he would feel inside you, stretching you.

“It’s all yours” He grinned, watching you admire him.

You straddled and pulled him up to kiss you and your taste still lingered on his tongue. His arms wrapped around your back and waist bringing you closer, and you took the cue to rock yourself against his shaft, coating it with your arousal, mixing it with his precum, the friction making him groan against your lips.

You pulled his hair, tilting his head back exposing his neck, and attacked it with your lips and tongue, all while you now teased the head of his cock with your opening, pretending you’d finally let him in, threatening to finally join your bodies, but skipping it every time, his digits digging on your flesh with his impatiency.

“You’re gonna make me beg for it now?” He peppered kisses on your chest and collarbone.

“You tell me… You want it that bad?” You whispered in his ear and nibbled on his earlobe.

That’s until he took control over you again and held your hips in place, lining himself with your entrance, all while he pulled you by your hair with his free hand, pulling you away from his neck, making you look at him, eyes so dark with lust and oozing such a primal desire you felt like prey.

“I do” 

He caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Now eyes on me” 

He instructed and you immediately obeyed. With one of his hands still on the back of your head and the other on your hip, the tip of his cock met your pussy and Noah pressed you down on him, merging your bodies slowly. His name came out of your lips in such a sinful pitch that made him throb inside you, the vision and the feeling of you, flesh and bone, being endlessly better than he could’ve ever imagined.

Your arms snaked around his neck as he bottomed you out, you felt so full and stretched, your whole body was on fire, ignited with desire, and when you got used to his size you started to move on top of him, slowly increasing your pace as you rode him, stealing grunts of pleasure out of him every time you intentionally clenched around him and fucked him harder, your skin slapping against his as his fingers dug into your thighs.

He was so lost in his own moment he didn’t know if he should look at where your bodies merged, at your boobs bouncing in front of his face or at your sex glazed eyes. His lips captured yours once again as you rocked your hips back and forth, that very specific motion almost making you both snap.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum” 

He whined and rolled you both, laying you on the bed as he got on top of you, switching positions so he could last longer, to feel you longer, to fuck you longer. He pushed himself inside of you again and all at once, at the new depth he reached with that position turned you into a moaning mess as he now set his own pace, but making sure that with every thrust he stimulated that very spot he found earlier inside you.

“Noah oh my…” 

You couldn’t finish your sentence as that postponed orgasm emerged again like a tsunami, washing away all of your senses as it bursted from inside out, hard, making your pussy clench desperately around him as he rode your high, taking every bit of his restraint to ride you through it without unloading inside you, cock throbbing in need, and just as he felt your body becoming jelly under his he pulled out of you, cumming on your belly in long hot spurts as he stilled over you, cheeks red and eyes rolled back.

He glued his forehead on yours, breathing still heavy as he came back from his own high, admiring how impossibly beautiful you looked at that very moment.

“There’s no fucking way I’m letting you into that plane tomorrow”

[chaoticforever]

Remnants of Regret | Tony Stark x Son! Reader

Summary: All Y/n ever wanted was his father’s love. Was that too much to ask?

Y/n sat on the floor in his bedroom, legs crossed, focusing intently on the canvas propped up before him. With a charcoal stick in his hand, Y/n carefully sketched the outline of a cityscape, his e/c eyes narrowed in concentration. His room permeated with the soft scratching of charcoal on canvas, a melody in the air.

Once Y/n finished the final touches and scooted back to examine his piece. One simple word crossed his mind: beautiful.

Since childhood, Y/n has loved drawing, sketching, and painting. He started with simple subjects like trees, flowers, and stars, then progressed to more complex images like people's faces and vehicles. He loved it so much that he pursued an art degree in college, unable to imagine a life not surrounded by art of some kind.

Furthermore, art allowed him to express emotions that words couldn't convey by providing an escape from the chaos of everyday life. It was just him, his brush, and the many possibilities on a canvas.

However, Y/n sometimes wondered if choosing art as his passion was a good idea since his father, Tony Stark, did not seem to appreciate his artistic abilities. Instead, he shifted the appreciation that he should have for Y/n to someone else.

Peter Parker.

See, Y/n Stark is the type of guy who preferred music and painting to building suits and technology that Tony loved so much, which only seemed to widen the gap between father and son. Tony didn’t seem to have much time for his son but made sure to have lots of time for Peter, who shared Tony's love for technology.

Y/n couldn’t help but feel jealous as he watched his dad always dote on Peter, offering him opportunities and praise that Y/n craved. But he seemed to have little time or patience for his artistic son.

He placed his finished piece on his desk and started putting away his sketching utensils. Just then, he heard a knock on his open door and turned around to see that Steve was standing in the doorway. Y/n smiled when he saw Steve. Besides Tony, Steve was his favorite Avenger. He sometimes acted more of a parent than the one currently in his life and the guys both bonded over their love for drawing.

"Hey, Steve. How was the mission?"

"Tiring. Dealing with rogue mutants can certainly take a toll on me," Steve replied, his eyes suddenly drifting to Y/n's newly crafted sketch, "Nice drawing Y/n. Is this for your end-of-semester art project?"

Y/n nodded his head in confirmation. "Yes, my professor wanted the class to draw something that represents our unique perspective on the world."

"And what perspective is that?"

Y/n paused to think about that question. "I guess... It's my view of the world as an artist. The world is full of life and energy, but there's also darkness and shadows. It's a reminder that beauty and struggles coexist. Nothing can ever change that."

Steve nodded, tracing the bold lines and subtle shading. "That’s an interesting yet accurate perspective. I am proud of you. You’re going to do great things one day."

A small smile appeared on Y/n’s face. He may not have gotten his dad’s praise, but he was happy that someone praised his artistic abilities and told him that he was proud of him. It warmed his heart.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me."

"You’re welcome. By the way, we’re having a group dinner tonight. We’ll be having lasagna, so bring your appetite."

Y/n grinned. He loved the soldier's cooking, especially when it was a dinner meal. It was so much better than eating takeout. "Oh, I'll be there, and y'all better hope that it all doesn’t get eaten by me."

Steve laughed before pivoting on his heel and leaving. Y/n watched as the soldier's retreating figure disappeared down the hall before turning back to his sketch, contentment washing over him.

As Y/n admired his work, his thoughts drifted back to his father. He knew that Tony loved him in his own way, but their relationship had always been strained. Tony’s focus on technology and his busy lifestyle, along with mentoring Peter, left little room for the two to hang out or for Tony to understand Y/n's passion for art.

But now, Y/n was determined to fix their relationship. After all, he lost his mother over a decade ago, and his father was the only blood family that he had left. He didn’t want their relationship to continue to be strained, and if Tony could make room for Peter in his life, then he could make some room for his biological son.

With that thought in mind, the e/c-eyed male headed to the private elevator that would take him to Tony’s workshop. And as he rounded the corner, he bumped into Rhodey, whom Y/n often looked up to as well. They greeted each other with their signature handshake that was only made for them two before Rhodey took off, explaining that he had a meeting to attend with a council member, and Y/n continued his journey to the workshop.

When he arrived at Tony's workshop, he saw his father standing next to his work bench, typing on his phone. Behind Tony, there was his Iron Man suit, opened up. Y/n figured that he just stepped out of it.

"Hey, Dad." Y/n greeted politely, crossing the room to give Tony a one-armed hug.

Surprisingly, Y/n's father did reciprocate the hug but didn’t even bother to look up at his son when he greeted him. He just kept his brown eyes glued to the phone in his hand. "Y/n. How was your day?"

"It was good. Classes were pretty light today, and I mostly just worked on my end-of-the-semester project for art class." Y/n explained, hoping that Tony would ask him more follow-up questions, such as what piece Y/n decided to draw or if he could see the work for himself. However, all Tony gave was a curt nod, still typing on that phone of his. So, Y/n cleared his throat and switched topics: "Dad, do you want to hang out this Saturday? There’s this art showing at the museum, and—"

"An art showing?" Tony finally looked up from his phone, his eyes flicking briefly to his son’s face before returning to the screen. "Sorry, kid, but I have meetings this Saturday. Besides, I’d rather watch paint dry than look at old paintings. You know that I’m more of a technology and engineering kind of guy than an art one."

Y/n's shoulders drooped, and he tried to hide the disappointment he felt. "Yeah, I know. I just thought maybe you’d want to spend some time together. It’s been a minute since we did something like that."

Tony seemed oblivious to Y/n's reaction, continuing to tap away at his phone. "Well, we’ve been busy. You're busy with college, and I'm busy with SI and saving the world, two full-time jobs for me," he put his phone down on the desk, finally giving Y/n his full attention. "But you’re right, we haven’t hung out in a long time. How about we go see that new Outlast movie that’s coming out next weekend?"

Y/n nodded, a small smile coming onto his face. Even though it wasn’t what he wanted to do, he was just happy to have some father-son time with his dad. And more importantly, it was without Peter.

"That sounds good to me. I can’t wait."

Y/n turned around and prepared to leave the room, excitement fluttering in his chest, just as Tony got a phone call from Peter. Y/n stood there for a moment and listened to how Tony asked Peter when he would be coming over and that Tony cleared the rest of his schedule today to help Peter with his last semester project.

The h/c-haired son frowned, feeling the excitement he felt a couple seconds ago disappear and the raw disappointment return. So, Tony can clear his schedule for Peter and make time for him, but he can't make time for his biological son?

It was ridiculous.

But Y/n had to remind himself that it was okay. Peter could have that time with his father all he wanted to today because next weekend, the two Starks would be spending some time together.

Feeling satisfied, Y/n left the workshop and returned to his room. It turned out that he had two things to look forward to: lasagna and the movies next week.

He couldn’t wait.

XXXXX XXXXX

The days passed slowly, but finally, the long-awaited Saturday finally arrived. It was the day of the planned outing with Y/n and his father, a day Y/n had been looking forward to. He hoped this would be a turning point in their relationship, a chance to bridge the gap that seemed to widen between them every passing day.

Now, he was getting ready in his room, choosing a casual outfit of jeans and a T-shirt. He knew that, even though it was April, the weather was rather cool with it being sixty-five degrees outside. That made him add a blue jacket to his outfit.

After checking himself out in the mirror, he walked down the hall to the common area, where Tony had told him to meet. As he walked down the hall, he hoped that the horror movie they were going to see would be good. The trailer did look promising but they can also be deceitful.

Y/n rounded the corner and entered the common area, where the Avengers were watching a movie and enjoying a spread of pizzas, popcorn, nachos, and cheese fries. Thor was the only one who wasn’t here since he went to Asgard for a few days. He noticed they were watching the first "Back to the Future," a classic Steve had promised to watch at the next team movie night after Y/n discovered that he had never seen that movie series before.

Guess he finally listened, Y/n thought as he looked around the room and noticed something that he had failed to notice.

His dad was nowhere to be found.

"Hey, has anyone seen my dad?" Y/n asked, looking over the team of heroes.

"Yeah, he left. You just missed him too." Clint answered, his fingers reaching into the popcorn bowl that was in his lap and shoving some popcorn into his mouth.

Y/n frowned. What? "Left? Left where?"

"He said that he was taking Peter to the science fair." Steve munched on a pizza.

The college student's heart sank and his shoulders sagged, feeling disappointed. So, his father had forgotten about their plans. Again. And it was for Peter. Again.

"Oh," was all Y/n could manage to utter. He knew that he should be used to this, but it still stung every time it happened.

Natasha, sensing the disappointment in Y/n's timbre, glanced over at him. "You didn't know he was going out with Peter."

That was a statement, not a question. Natasha had always been perceptive.

"No, no, I did," Y/n backpedaled, forcing a grin. He didn't understand why he was protecting his father, but he just wanted this conversation to end. "I just forgot, but you telling me made me remember."

Y/n knew he was a terrible liar, and he didn't sound convincing. He knew they didn't believe him, considering Steve's frown, Bruce's concerned look, and the looks shared between Clint and Natasha.

Bruce grabbed the remote and paused the movie. "Look, why don't you join us, Y/n? You can finish the movie with us."

"Yeah, come on, Y/n!" Sam piped up. "We've got plenty of food, and we were just about to start a game of charades."

Y/n glanced at the team of superheroes. While he appreciated their invitation, he had been looking forward to spending time with his dad, so he shook his head but still kept the forced smile on his features. "Thank you guys, but I think I'll just head back to my room. Next time."

The h/c-haired male turned around and left the main area, frustration nagging at his insides. When he got to his room, he flopped down on his bed, back pressed against it as he stared up at the ceiling.

He didn’t understand.

Why did Tony continue to treat him as an afterthought? And what the hell was so damn special about Peter? Why did he always have to be the recipient of his father’s love? He couldn’t help but feel like he was always playing second fiddle to the guy who was two years younger than him. It was ridiculous to be jealous of someone younger than him, but Y/n couldn’t help himself. It hurt so much that his father favored Peter over him.

Y/n pulled out his phone, intending to call his dad when he got a notification from Instagram that his dad had posted a pic. He clicked on it and found himself staring at an image of his dad with Peter.

The caption read: Peter will take over my company someday. #prouddadmoment.

Proud dad moment...?

Peter wasn’t even his actual son and Y/n couldn’t stand the way his dad looked at Peter with such praise. What can I do to make him look at me like that one time?

And before Y/n knew it, his cheeks were pelted with water, and he just realized at that moment that he was crying. The tears fell to his cheeks before dropping onto the bed, but Y/n wiped his cheeks angrily since he shouldn’t allow this to make him sad. But it was so hard not to.

His e/c eyes drifted to the photo that was on his side table. He reached for it and picked it up. It was a photo of his mom. Y/n allowed his finger to run over his mom’s smiling face in the picture. It’s times like this when he wishes that she was still alive. At least then, he’d have a parent in his life who cared about him.

Suddenly, a knock came from his door.

"Come in," Y/n called out, setting down the photo back on his desk. He wished that it was his father knocking on the door, but he wasn't surprised when the door opened, and it wasn't him. It was Steve. "Hi, Steve. Did you like the movie?"

Steve nodded, taking a seat on the bed. "I did. It was a great eighties film. I can see why you love it so much." Steve then changed the conversation. "You okay?"

Y/n nodded. He knew he wasn't okay, but he didn't want to ruin Steve's evening with his problem. "I'm fine. Shouldn't you be playing charades with everyone else?"

The soldier disregarded the question and simply stared at Y/n for a moment, seemingly sensing that he wasn’t telling the truth. "Hey, why don't we grab some dessert? I know a great ice cream shop."

Y/n hesitated briefly. He didn't want to be a burden to Steve, but he also didn't want to spend his evening in his room.

"That sounds nice, thanks." Y/n smiled and followed the soldier out of the door.

Steve drove them to a small ice cream parlor that was tucked away in the city on his motorcycle, a vehicle that Y/n had never expected to get on willingly. Steve got the classic chocolate sundae, while Y/n got a vanilla sundae with chocolate syrup, sprinkles, and a cherry on top.

They then went to the park to watch the beautiful sunset and enjoy their sundae. The sun, a fiery orb of warmth and light, dipped beneath the horizon, painting the sky with two shades of orange and pink.

Y/n and Steve watched the breathtaking scene in comfortable silence. The park was lively with kids playing, the distance hum of cars, and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Y/n's vanilla sundae sat untouched. His mind was elsewhere, consumed by the disappointment and hurt he felt over Tony's absence. Steve, on the other hand, enjoyed his chocolate sundae, taking slow, deliberate bites of it.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" The super soldier broke the silence, his eyes shifting over.

"Yup," Y/n murmured, his e/c eyes taking in the stunning view. "It's like a painting."

Steve smiled, nodding his head in agreement. He then spoke again, his voice deadly serious. "So, what's going on? You've seemed a little down lately."

Y/n let out a sigh, knowing there was no point in lying to Steve. "It's my dad. I just feel like he always puts Peter first. It's like I'm not even his real son sometimes."

The blonde's expression softened, and he placed a comforting hand on Y/n's shoulder. "I know it's tough, but try not to take it personally. Your dad has a unique relationship with Peter, but that doesn't diminish his love for you. You're his son."

He sighed again, "I know but it's hard not to feel overshadowed sometimes. Peter gets all the attention, and I'm just... here."

"Your dad may not always show it, but he's proud of you, Y/n," Steve assured him. "And I know that he loves you very much. Sometimes, parents just need a little reminder that their kids need them."

Y/n nodded, but he couldn't help feeling skeptical. After all, actions spoke louder than words, and Tony's actions indicated that he loved Peter more than him. Like Y/n would always come second to Peter.

But he didn't feel like dwelling on Tony's absence anymore. Instead, he turned his attention back to the sunset, watching as the last sliver of the sun disappeared behind the horizon. The sky grew darker, the colors of the sunset fading into the twilight. He didn't get the opportunity to spend the evening with his father as he planned, but at least he had spent it with someone who cared about him deeply.

And that made him smile.

XXXXX XXXXX

The next morning, Y/n found himself in the kitchen, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. The events of the previous day still weighed heavily on his mind, leaving a bitter taste that even the strongest brew couldn't mask. He wanted to confront his dad about his behavior, but at the same time, he didn't want to talk to him after what happened.

As he added a dash of sugar to his cup, the familiar clanking of Tony's footsteps drew closer. He saw his father enter the kitchen, but Y/n leaned against the counter, his back stiff and his gaze fixed on the windows. He deliberately avoided greeting his dad as he would usually do.

"Morning, Y/n," Tony greeted politely, but Y/n remained quiet, his back still turned. Feeling perplexed by the cold shoulder, Tony frowned. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing that concerns you," Y/n replied, voice low and dismissive as he finished his coffee and placed the cup in the sink.

Y/n moved forward, attempting to leave the kitchen, but Tony stepped in front of him, unsatisfied with the response. "I'm your father. It's my job to be concerned."

Y/n's laughter rang out, harsh and bitter as if Tony had just told him a funny joke. "That is quite ironic coming from you."

The frown on Tony's features deepened. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Y/n's voice was quiet, "that lately, you've been anything but a father to me. But I can't say the same for Peter tho. You literally drop everything for him, but you can't even remember our plans."

Tony took a step forward, his tone rising defensively. "That's not true, Y/n. I do my best to be there for both of you. I juggle a lot, but I make time for you when I can."

Y/n's gaze didn't waver and he cocked his head to the side. "You make time for me? Then where were you last evening?"

"I took Peter to the science fair."

"Even though we had plans to go to the movies?" The younger man pointed out.

Tony's eyebrows furrowed as realization dawned, shame washing over his face. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I know we had plans, but Peter needed me. I couldn't leave him."

The two Starks were so busy arguing that neither of them noticed a stealthy figure that managed to infiltrate the compound, temporarily disable Friday, and had a knockout device in their hand. 

"Peter needed you?" Y/n shook his head, his voice thick with hurt. Why did he forget about me? "What about what I need? You're my dad, not his. I need you."

Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You have me every day, Y/n. Don't you see that I am always here for you?"

"Are you, Dad?!" Y/n's voice rose to a shout. "When was the last time we spent quality time together, just the two of us? When was the last time you and I had a real conversation that wasn't about your work or Peter? When was the last time you asked about what's going on in my life? You probably don't even know that my birthday is in two days. I'll be turning twenty-three, by the way. You don't know that one of my art pieces was presented at the museum you found too boring to visit. And you don't know that I made the Dean's List in school for the third year in a row!" Y/n's voice dropped to a whisper, but the words still stung like acid. "Mom would never treat me the way you do."

Tony flinched as if struck, his eyes widening at the mention of Y/n's mother. The weight of his son's words hit him like a physical blow, and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the room began to fill with a thick fog.

Y/n noticed it too, confusion clouding his face. But as more of the mysterious substance was released into the air, he dropped to his knees, his vision blurring. Tony staggered and slumped against the kitchen counter, his eyes falling shut.

And then, everything went dark. The gas in the room caused both father and son to collapse, slumping to the floor hard.

Later, once Y/n regained consciousness, his head pounded as he tried to piece together what happened. The last thing he remembered was the argument with Tony in the kitchen, and then everything went dark. But now, he found himself in an unfamiliar room, dimly lit by a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls were made of rough concrete, and the floor was cold and hard beneath him.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" Tony's voice, filled with concern, reached him, and he turned to see his father hovering nearby.

"Dad?" Y/n's throat was dry and scratchy as he tried to sit up, but dizziness forced him to lay back down. It's overwhelming.

Tony helped Y/n into a seated position against the concrete wall. "Easy there."

Y/n looked around. "Where are we?" 

"I'm not sure," Tony admitted, his gaze scanning the room for any clues. "But it appears that we have been kidnapped." 

Y/n's heart pounded in his chest as the reality of their situation sank in. Oh crap. He couldn't believe that they were in this predicament, but he didn’t know why he was completely surprised. Since he was a Stark, people have always attempted to kidnap him since the day he was born, but this was the first time someone had successfully managed to kidnap him. 

And he couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow his fault. If only he hadn't argued with his dad, they wouldn't have been distracted when their captor struck.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Tony apologized, his eyes filled with remorse, and Y/n was slightly taken aback because he hadn’t been expecting that. "I should have been there for you more. I let my work and my relationship with Peter overshadow our bond. That was wrong of me to do that."

Y/n eyes drifted to his hands, clasped in his lap. "You know, it hurt every time you chose Peter over me," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I don't understand why you always favor him. Why is everything he does amazing, but when it comes to me, you're never satisfied? Was it something that I did wrong? Or didn't do? Because I can change if it means you'll love me."

Tony shook his head vigorously, moving closer to his son. "No, Y/n. I don't want you to change for anyone, especially not for me. I can admit that I haven't always handled things perfectly. Peter reminds me of myself at his age, and sometimes I get caught up in my own nostalgia. But that doesn't mean I love you any less, Y/n. You're my son. I'd do anything for you."

Y/n's heart swelled at his father's words. He forgave Tony the moment the words "I'm sorry" exited his lips. Y/n had never been one to hold grudges, and now that Tony had acknowledged his mistakes, he hoped that they could finally move forward and rebuild their relationship.

Y/n wrapped his arms around Tony, who reciprocated the gesture. "I just want to spend more time with you," he muttered. "You know, do all that father-son stuff."

"And we will," Tony promised, pulling away. "As soon as we get out of here, I'll clear my schedule for the next month. We can go to the Bahamas. The water is beautiful, and I know they have amazing art exhibits there. It can be my birthday present to you. It'll be just the two of us."

It was impossible for Y/n to refrain from allowing the corners of his mouth to curl upward into a smile. He experienced a sense of optimism for the first time in a long time. As he looked into his father's eyes, he was certain that he would fulfill his promise. Y/n couldn't help but feel like a ten-year-old on Christmas morning.

"I'd like that, but how are we going to get out of here?" That was the big question.

Tony smirked. "Leave that to my team."

He informed Y/n through sign language that he had a secret tracker implanted in his watch, which had been confiscated. The Avengers were aware of the tracker, so it wouldn't be long before they arrived.

And then, as if on cue, the door to the room they were in flew off its hinges by a man getting thrown through it. Then, Steve walked into the room, dressed in his Captain America outfit. Steve threw his shield at the cell the Starks were in, allowing the two men to finally escape.

"Tony, Y/n, are you guys okay?" Steve walked over to them and started looking for signs of harm or injuries of any kind, but was relieved that he didn’t find one. 

"Just peachy," Tony assured the blonde, grabbing his watch from a nearby table and taking Y/n's arm. They rushed out of the building, with Steve leading the way.

As the three made their way out, Y/n heard the sounds of gunfire, screaming, and growling echoing in the air. The Hulk was in full force, dismantling one of the kidnappers, while the other Avengers fought alongside him. Steve sprang back into action, and Tony transformed his watch into an Iron Man glove, joining the fighting. Even Spider-Man was there, taking out multiple opponents with ease.

But in the chaos, Y/n spotted a gunman aiming at Spider-Man from a distance. Acting without hesitation, he pushed Spider-Man out of the way, taking the bullet meant for him. The gunshot tore through Y/n's stomach, and he fell to the ground, eyes widening in shock and pain.

Tony had just fired a beam of light from his repulsor, sending the man flying into the nearby truck. But as he did, he heard the crack of a gunshot. He looked over to see where the shot had come from.

And his heart dropped to his stomach.

Y/n had been shot.

The bullet had pierced Y/n’s stomach, and blood was already soaking through his shirt, dripping onto the ground below.

"No, Y/n!" Tony screamed, running over as Steve hurled his shield at the shooter. Tony caught Y/n just as he began to fall, blood seeping through Tony's fingers as he peeled off his jacket and pressed it against the wound. Y/n trembled in his arms, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

"D-Dad."

"I know, I know, it's going to be okay," he whispered, his voice thick and his eyes shone with unshed tears. "You're going to be okay, I promise." His jaw clenched as he peered over at his teammates who had finally finished their fight and were rushing over. "Get us to a hospital, now!"

They didn't need to be told twice. Steve moved forward and quickly helped Tony carry Y/n to the Quinjet, with the other Avengers following closely behind them. Once inside, Natasha took her place in the pilot seat and Clint sat in the co-pilot seat next to her. Natasha quickly turned on the controls and maneuvered the jet into the air above, racing to the hospital.

The Quinjet soared through the sky, the city a blur below. Inside, the atmosphere was filled with worry. Everyone watched as Iron Man tried to help his injured son. Tony refused to let go of Y/n, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding, mind racing with fear and desperation. He had faced countless dangers as Iron Man, but nothing compared to the fear he felt at the thought of losing his son. 

Finally, the Quinjet landed on the rooftop helipad of Metro-General Hospital, and Steve and Bruce rushed out, carrying Y/n on a stretcher. Tony was right beside him, keeping his hands clasped in Y/n’s. 

"We need a doctor, now!" Tony shouted as they burst through the hospital doors.

Immediately, a group of two doctors and two nurses came over, taking over Y/n's care and wheeling him away. And Tony was beside them, still holding his hand.

"What happened?" One of them asked.

"Some idiot shot him," Tony explained. 

The medical team wheeled Y/n into the operating room fast. The female nurse commented how Y/n had a weak pulse rate as the group of medical specialists lifted him onto the bed. Tony held onto his hands, tears welling up in his eyes. 

The male doctor assessed the situation, noticing a smaller entry wound in Y/n’s upper right back and a larger exit wound in his abdomen. "Lungs failing," he said, his voice steady but grave. "Start an I.V. — two units of O, stat." The female nurse hurried off to fulfill the order. The female doctor asked for adrenalin, and the male nurse rushed to comply with the request.

Tony stood by his son's side, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the doctor's work. He couldn't remember a time he prayed, but he found himself silently pleading with any higher power that might be listening to spare his son's life. "Hang in there, son," he whispered.

Y/n struggled to speak, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t think I’ll make it."

The billionaire's heart broke a little more. "Don't you dare die on me." Tony's voice was borderline pleading, begging for his son not to leave him. He has to survive.

But as the doctors worked frantically to save Y/n's life, his condition continued to deteriorate, his grip on Tony's hand weakening. "Dad," Y/n whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so cold."

Hearing this, Tony couldn't hold back his tears, which fell onto his son's hand. "I-I-I can't feel my legs," he continued, making Tony feel an enormous sense of dread and despair. He wanted to leave, unable to continue witnessing his greatest fear unfolding before his eyes. However, Y/n gripped Tony's hand tightly. "D-Don't go." Their eyes met, and Y/n let out a gasp before managing to utter three words.

"I love you."

The heart monitor's steady beep began to slow, then faltered, finally falling silent as Y/n slipped into full arrest. Tony cried out, "Oh god." His hand clamped over his mouth as he watched his son flatlined.

"Full arrest. Paddles!" The male doctor shouted, and the female doctor brought over the paddle machine. Tony stepped back as he witnessed the scene unfold. The lady squirted gel on a paddle, and the male rubbed them together. "Clear!" He yelled and used the paddles on Y/n. 

But it didn't work.

"Recharge," he barked, and she obeyed. "Clear!" He used the paddles once again.

Still, Y/n’s heart did not respond and the heart monitor remained silent. His grip fully weakened in Tony’s hand, and his eyes remained unmoving. Sadly, it was officially. Y/n, son of the billionaire, was dead. The male doctor looked at Tony with a mix of sympathy and sadness.

"I’m so sorry," the male doctor voiced. 

And, just like that, Tony Stark broke. 

He leaned over Y/n, his body heavy with grief, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his son's lifeless hand. The pain in his chest was unbearable as if his own heart had stopped beating. He couldn't believe his only child was gone.

Now, he would never witness his son's college graduation, celebrate another birthday, see him walk down the aisle, or become a dad himself. Y/n was gone, and Tony would never see his son again.

And Tony felt like he had died too.

His sobs echoed through the hospital room, a sound so full of anger and pain that it seemed to pierce the very air. The doctors and nurses quietly left the room, deciding to let the genius grieve alone.

"Y/n," he choked out, his voice breaking on his son's name. "Please... come back. I can't… I can't live life without you here."

But he knew that his son wasn't coming back, no matter how much he'd beg for it. That thought was unimaginable, a nightmare from which he couldn't wake.

He had failed his son, failed to keep him safe, and now, Tony was forced to face a world without the h/c haired male in it. 

It was bad enough that the genius had been such a shitty dad to choose Peter over Y/n, but now he wouldn’t be able to show Y/n that he was fully committed to changing, to being the dad Y/n deserved.

That made his sobs grow louder.

The Avengers entered the room, their faces etched with sorrow. Each of them had faced countless battles, but nothing could have prepared them for the pain of watching one of their own lose a child.

Steve placed a hand on Tony's shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort for his friend. He knew that no words could ease the pain of such a loss, but he hoped that his presence would offer some solace. He took a moment to say a silent prayer for the man who was like a son to him.

Natasha's stoic expression cracked, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She had seen death countless times in her work, but this — this was different. This was one of their own, a part of their family.

Sam also couldn't hold back his tears. His vision blurred, and he wiped them away, not wanting to add to Tony's pain. But the pain was there, a dull ache in his chest that echoed the grief of his friend.

Clint had to look away, his jaw clenched. He had lost people before, but this was different. This was a young man, full of life, who left this cruel world too soon.

Bruce stood with his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes were downcast, but there was a hint of green in his eyes. He couldn't imagine the pain of losing a child, especially someone so wonderful. 

Peter was the most visibly shaken and he felt somewhat responsible. If he had been more aware of his surroundings and saw the hidden shooter, then Y/n wouldn't have taken the bullet for him.

Tony's fingers trembled as he closed Y/n's eyes. "I’m sorry, son," his voice was a broken whisper. "I love you so, so much."

For Y/n, the light had gone out. For Tony, the darkness has never felt so complete.

XXXXX XXXXX

[renthony]

Hope in the Hellfire: Revisiting Fahrenheit 451 in 2024

by Ren Basel renbasel.com

When I first read Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, I wasn’t much younger than seventeen-year-old Clarisse McClellan, one of the novel’s major characters. In many ways I was like her: disgruntled with classmates who found me off-putting, eager to talk to adults who would entertain my unusual questions, and constantly off exploring the woods. I was a bookish loner who struggled socially. I proudly read banned books, and carried around my mom’s paperback copy of Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land—a book formally banned from inclusion in my high school’s library or curriculum—as a passive challenge for adults to try and confiscate it. None ever tried, but I sure was prepared to raise hell.

Revisiting Fahrenheit 451 in 2024 is a strange experience, not just because of the book’s political commentary. In 2024 I am 30 years old—the same age as Guy Montag, the protagonist. It is easy to put myself in his shoes now, the way I once put myself in Clarisse’s.

Montag is a fireman in a world where every house is fireproof. Instead of extinguishing fires, Bradbury’s firemen collect and burn books. Without books, the population is ignorant and complacent, kept busy with mindless screen entertainment.

Like Montag, I live in a world where books are targeted by a hostile government. In 2024 I live in Florida, where Governor Ron DeSantis makes regular headlines for his crusades against public education, libraries, and books. Many an op-ed has been written about the relevance of Fahrenheit 451 in our times, and it almost feels cliché as an anti-censorship advocate to list it as one of my favorites.

Cliché or not, I can’t help it. Fahrenheit 451 is a warning against censorship, yes; it is a pointed exploration of 1950s American social anxieties, yes; it is a well-written piece of fiction containing rich descriptions of exciting events, yes; but more than that? Fahrenheit 451 is one of my favorite novels because it leaves me feeling hopeful in the midst of social upheaval.

After stealing and reading forbidden books, Montag’s life spirals out of control. His wife sells him out to the authorities, he kills a former colleague in self-defense, he is pursued in a televised government manhunt, and before the story ends he watches bombs reduce his former home to rubble. Montag survives, but he doesn’t fix the world. He is not the victorious hero of a glorious rebellion. Many, many books get burned, and people die. Yet still, there is hope, because Montag finds community. He finds a way to help preserve the books’ contents so they can be passed down to later generations.

In 2024, Fahrenheit 451’s message is important not only because it warns against censorship, but because it reminds us that even if the road ahead is difficult, even if things get worse before they can get better, even if some stories are lost, there are still countless unnamed, unnoticed people fighting to preserve and share knowledge.

The best part is that any of us can join them.

_

Written on commission, using the prompt, “500 words about your favorite pre-1960s Sci-Fi.”

Lovingly dedicated to the Queer Liberation Library (on tumblr as @queerliblib!) for their ongoing mission to make queer eBooks accessible. Check them out at queerliberationlibrary.org!

Like this essay? Tip me on Ko-Fi, pledge to my Patreon, or commission an essay on the topic of your choice!

[planetallure]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fic recs

CW: these works contain explicit content intended for those 18+. make sure to read the rules of the writers before interacting.

@peterthepark : coming back to this blog made me realize when exactly i started back reading fanfic fr. the moment that was eddie mf munson, touched something in me. reign was one of my first intros that really stuck with me. it kinda blew my mind and scared me at the same time because i was like…how do i move on…what’s better than this??? brilliance. creative genius. like what more do you want from me? reign, i miss you. <3

i rec literally anything she’s written about eddie or tasm!peter parker.

@ohcaptains : i really don’t know what to tell you man. leah. is. HER. she simply does not miss. funny story: when i first started my old blog, it was ageless so i ended up getting blocked. so i pm’d her basically begging to come back home because i knew what i had lost. i’m not ashamed.

"dealers choice" - if you happened to miss the moment that was eddie munson or you miss his character or you were never really into him, this lil universe is for you. <3

"learning in public" - carmy x fem!reader. he needs it. he wants it. he has to have it. a man on his knees. enjoy.

"don't you dare fall in love" - heads up this one was discontinued and will not be continued (so don’t go harassing her about it) but the last part has an open ending so don’t let that stop you. college student/dealer!ellie x fem!reader. it’s beautiful and perfect. enjoy.

also ALL of her frank castle, abby anderson, tasm!peter parker fics. thank youuu

@inknopewetrust : this woman is a W R I T E R. the beautiful angsty things that come from her brain need to be cherished. thank you for your service.

“hoping i’ll find [a glimpse of us]” - when i tell you this shit was so fricking good!!!!!?! another piece of LITERATURE that i couldn’t believe i got to read for free on tumblr. i am such a sucker for a angsty slow burn and this still lives in me head rent free to this day. the tension had me giggling and laughing and biting my nail and crying. i need to spin back. i need to feel something!!

“secret” : now this one was a sexy forbidden romance. eddie’s our man who isn’t our man but is and oh m gee the angst in this one got me too, though it wasn’t as much. preppy!reader x eddie munson iykyk.

@etherealising : the absolute sweetest person i’ve met on here. every interaction i have with her just makes me smile. on TOP of that she’s a beautiful writer and storyteller. vee you have my heart.

“all i ever knew only you” - the best carmy x oc fic i’ve ever had the pleasure of reading on here. i’m so emotionally attached to this series, its characters and i think it has such re-readablity . the characterization is also so well done carmy x baby 4life. it’s currently discontinued but she is currently doing a rewrite and it’s going really well! in the meantime, please don’t let that stop you from reading the original while it’s still up. you won’t regret it.

“a buried and a burning flame” - vee single-handedly has me looking a richie different now. like…wait a minute :)) the bickering and banter is so fun. tension? check. spice?? check.

“flew like a moth to you” - a continuation of the one above. babyyyy!!! yes, yes, uh huh 🙂‍↕️ these two? LOVE EM. he’s officially in my heart.

@totheblood : star is so kind and super creative. she has created some of my favorite ellie williams smau’s on here.

"the hard way" - rockstar!ellie williams x ex-gf!reader smau. you guys are brought together again to solve the mystery that is the anonymous account blackmailing the two of you. mmm, nothing like the takedown of a shady mf to bring the girls together again :)

@cherriesxinthespring : another sweetheart with a beautiful mind. ik people get the characterization/true nature of ellie so wrong, but not rosie. she gets it.

“wasteland, baby!” - the wlw true enemies to lovers slow burn i’ve been dreaming of. tap in. right now.

@elliesbelle

“nobody compares to you” : a deliciously angsty slow burn second chance romance (ex!ellie x f!reader)

all the text convos for abby and ellie.

@newasskid : this blog makes me so nostalgic. THE first fic series that i read and rebloged when i started my first ff blog, came from this writer. i honestly feel it was my first time reading fanfic that wasn’t a silly little wattpad story or imagine and i was honestly gagged. i was like, “this…this is literature.” what can i say? i love good ass characterization! and this one was no exception.

“hard knock life” - like i said i was gagged with how good it was. i read the first two chapters back in 2022 and i still remember the feeling i felt reading them. this new blog i’m making is a fresh start for me and a chance for me to get back into old fandoms. will be revisiting this one soon.

@lovelettersfromluna

"one of your girls" - biker!ellie/roommate!ellie/camgirl!ellie x f!reader ALL rolled into to this ridiculously sexy little universe!! i love these two so much :’(

"compass" - vampire!ellie !!!! my new favorite thing. the way luna writes her feeding on reader ALONE is the most erotic and intimate thing. my god this was hot.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

sending all of this beautiful writers my love and respect y’all are amazing and so important. <3

[chibsandchill]

See me

Fandom: Saltburn 

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader 

Summary: Each room in Saltburn is bursting at the seam with memories with you, and Felix remembers some of his favorite moments as he makes his way to his prize. 

Warnings: Felix, Mentions and descriptions of acts of violence and murder, NSFW content, MDNI, 18+, unreliable narrator (Felix), toxic relationship, obsessive tendencies, grammatical and spelling errors, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), Felix is a creep, themes of violence - self-harm and equivalent themes are prevalent through the imagine, some parts of their dynamic takes inspiration from Hannigram but with my spin on obsession

I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the tags. 

MDNI

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It’s a cloudy day when Felix first saw you,

but with you came the sun, 

warmth, empathy, love. 

Oh, how he loved your heart. But, oh, how careless you were with it. It was a gift, 

one meant for him, 

from you. 

Then why did you waste it on those beneath you? You chipped away at it to mend sobbing students, tore at it until it bled and thick scars rose like mountains. You took on their pain with a blindingly bright smile, 

only Felix saw how their burdens weighed you down. 

The sun was meant to warm, to burn from far away, 

but they tore you down from your place in the sky so that they might leech your warmth until you are left barren. Their sorrows were cold as ice against you. 

They stole you from him. Piece by piece they ripped at you with filthy nails. You became known on campus as someone who’d listen. Who wouldn’t judge. How could you when you felt their problems as if they were your own? The more they spoke those words dripping with poison, the more they tainted the very blood in your veins with their darkness. 

‘Walk in their shoes’. 

You didn’t need to. You could walk in their skin, feel their emotions as if they were yours. Heartbreak plagued you, sorrow fell on you like an ever present shadow. The death of a family not yours turned your face gray and your eyes misty.

Until Felix put a stop to it all. How could he stand by and watch it happen? The slow destruction of a bright star, who burned so bright that all envied it. 

Jenny from history of art, Carl from math, Robert from physics, Matilda from psychology, Caroline, Jeremy, Han, Thomas, Harry, Derek, Henry, Linda, Nico, Mark, John, Hans, William, Frederic. All turned away at your door. 

“Yes, I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Oh, how they believed his lies. Sweet, sweet, Felix Catton wouldn’t lie to them. Surely not. 

But lie, he did. It spewed from his lips like honey. All to have his sun beam at him again. To wash away the taint of the others from your skin, your heart, your eyes. He would have you look at him with soft, relaxed eyes. 

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Your protector. Even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“Felix.” 

He hummed. 

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when you look up at him, but the affection is hard to miss. It makes you glow. Felix curled his arm further around you, bringing you closer to him. But even then it is not close enough. He aches. It’s a want deeper than skin, deeper than bones or even his soul. It was as if his very being was made of want, of longing so intense he was blinded by it. If God was indeed real then he had created Felix with a thread laced with obsession, with love transcending all else. 

Even thinking about you made his heart race, pound. 

“Can I braid your hair?” 

“‘Course.” He said against your skin. 

As if you needed to ask. All of him was yours. 

You try to sit up but Felix isn’t ready to break the contact yet. He feels like a battery, no matter how bizarre a comparison it is, constantly needing to be recharged so that he might survive when you part. He’s constantly cold without you, he feels empty; hollow. His hands are too light with the lack of you, he breathes too easy without the weight of you on his chest. If he could he’d carve his heart out so that you could carry it with you, for that was how he felt anyway. He’d gouge himself hollow so that he could fit you inside. Never to be parted again, joined together by shared blood, flesh and bone. 

It’s not easy with his hold on you, but you manage to shift so that you sit in his lap instead. It’s not ideal if you mean to truly braid his hair but Felix won’t complain. He pushed his head into your touch when your fingers hover over him. 

“Patience.” You half-heartedly scold him. 

Your fingers weave through his hair, nails scratching just right against his scalp. With deft hands you untangle the mess you’d created during the night. There’s not much to braid but more than enough for you to wrap around your fingers and tug. The action pulls a low groan from his throat. 

He grabs your hips. Felix wonders if you’ve noticed how he’s caged you in. You probably don’t, as sweet and trusting a being as you surely wouldn’t peel back his layers to gasp at the thriving darkness beneath. With you he was his truest self. Could you see him? Would you run if he were to cast off the layers? Let you see him? 

Maybe you already could. You had seen the others. Even the empty ones, the ones who had gouged themselves hollow and shoved the essence of what they thought he wanted until it spilled from every hole in their body. 

Felix wasn’t hollow. He was bursting at the seams with life, same as you. And yet you stayed. Surely you knew. You had to. You and he were one. Two pieces of a whole finally reunited. 

He breaths in your scent, noses along your throat before allowing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. There’s a bruise there hidden on your shoulder blade. Late one night when you’d already fallen asleep he mouthed it into your skin with the moon as his witness, 

only, 

it had started to fade. 

He’d have to do it again. Closer. Marking you under the cover of darkness wasn’t enough anymore. An unspoken claim didn’t satisfy him anymore. It wasn’t enough. He was beginning to think it never would be. He could bruise every inch of your skin with his love and his skin would still itch to do more – to prove himself more to you.  

Just as his hands slide down to rest on the curve of your ass the scene slips through his fingers like sand. 

He blinks it away. He’s standing in the driveway of Saltburn. Your favorite statue is left in shambles on the gravel with his blood splattered across the white marble. 

“What the fuck.” Felix’s hand shakes and burns with pain. His knuckles are split open. 

It had been a slip of a thought he had once when you first came to Saltburn and you’d taken to leaning on the statues, the furniture, walls, pillars. He’d wanted them all gone. He’d be your pillar. He wouldn’t crumble with age, would never make you think they stood strong only for the core to be riddled with holes from pests.

Felix was whole and strong, had made himself such, 

for you. 

He’d burnt the tendrils of influence his mother had dug into him since childhood. Torn the threads of her darkness right out of the tapestry. Oh, how she cried when she noticed. ‘Felix,’ she’d whispered, a rare show of emotion plastered across her face, ‘what have you done?’. 

She shouldn’t have worried about what he had done. No, she should’ve worried about what he was going to do. 

He watched you for weeks before approaching you. He noticed what made you laugh, what made you smile, frown, scowl. And so he took that too. Cut out the parts of himself that would drop the smile from your face and sewed on the parts that he lacked until he was left a patch-work version of perfecting befitting a Mary Shelley novel. Pus and blood seeped from the stitches. The sight was unseemly. So he waited until he’d perfected himself, until the stolen was assimilated, until it was like another Felix had never existed. 

Felix throws the heavy doors open and the maids scurry away from his sight. 

Duncan emerges from the pack. Even after all he’d seen, his adoration for Felix remained. “Welcome back, Felix.” 

He nods. 

And then he’s off. 

The route he takes is reminiscent of your first tour of the mansion. He’s even nodding along as if hearing himself introduce it all. The staircase where he “fingered” his cousin. As if. Your face had reddened with equal parts jealousy and sheer disbelief of ‘what the fuck’. 

One of the smaller sitting rooms. The green one. He fucking hates that room. But you love it. He went down on you for the first time there. Right on the couch with his granny’s ghost knocking down a shelf of antique plates over his head. The blood had driven you crazy. 

The thought alone made him hard. 

But this was also the first room you’d held him properly in. He’d been crying. 

“What's wrong?” You ask when he threw the door open. 

You’d been doing some summer reading for uni, but your fingers clutched the opening pages with strength that betrayed your pounding headache. 

“Fucking Ollie.” 

Your brows furrow “Oliver?”

Felix lay down on the couch with his head in your lap. You smell good. And you’re soft. 

“Yeah.” He sigh. “He was lying to us this whole time. Turns out poor Oliver Quick has both a dad and mum who loves him. Even siblings! They live in a lovely house in a picture perfect neighborhood.”

‘I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you!’

As if there was even a sliver of Felix that didn’t belong to you, that didn’t scream out for you every second you were apart. Had Oliver not been paying attention? Could he not see the need that permated him? It ran so deep, was so all-consuming that he couldn’t contain it all. He breathed desire, cried longing, even fucking pissed envy. Envy even over the very air you breathed, the clothing that hugged you, the sheets for the audacity to imply he wasn’t enough to keep you warm. 

You hum as your fingers drift down to cup his face. 

“He was in love with me.” 

“Isn’t everyone?” You joke. 

Felix’s eyes opened (he hadn’t realized he closed them). “You love me?”

“Of course.” You trace a scar on his cheekbone. 

“Say it.” 

“I love you, Felix.”

Even that memory fades, but your words linger. 

I love you, Felix. 

You always linger. Your kisses burn his skin and he wishes it left a scar so that he could look upon it and relive it all. 

The green room is abandoned quickly, and he’s off. 

“A blue room!” You exclaim, and to Felix’s displeasure you let go of him to take it all in. 

“Yeah. It’s… blue.” 

“What? No ghosts? No artifacts?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nope. Just blue.”

Felix sees himself leaning against the door while you spin around the room. It’s like a movie, almost. Only it’s his memories and he can remember every second he’s ever spent in your presence. Including this one. And the next one. 

The one where you’re on your knees.

You’re pressing soft kisses to the tip of his cock, pressing your love into every inch of skin you can find as if you wanted to stay there, to have your love replace the tar that ran through his veins. 

It’s odd. He can almost feel the tingles left by your touch, but he’s untouched. Felix’s hands form fists at the sight. Was it possible to be jealous even of himself? The envy boiling in his stomach certainly said so. He would not share you even with himself. 

Felix strides forward and sinks into the place his past self sits. He unbuckles his jeans and frees his cock from his underwear. If he were not so deep in madness he might’ve felt the cold of the room, but he was, and so he felt the warmth of your hands, the wetness of your mouth as you wrap your lips around his tip. 

He moans. He didn’t know what he liked the most about it. The vulnerability, the act itself, your presence, or that it left you with a part of him inside you. You’d kneel in front of him for as long as it took, but Felix would not have you be uncomfortable and so he slid a pillow under your knees. 

Your hands cup his balls. He twitches. You take more of him into you. It feels like heaven to have you wrap yourself around him. Wet, warm, silky heaven. All for him. 

Him. Him. Him. Him. His. 

You moan around him. It sends vibrations straight through him. It pulls a low groan straight from his chest, one that makes you moan. His pleasure is your pleasure, and your pleasure is his, and so the circle begins. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head when you begin bobbing your head up and down. You slurp. Electricity runs down his spine. It’s wet. Sloppy. Saliva drips down your mouth as you press your nose into his abdomen. 

Someone drops a plate somewhere in the house and the spell is broken. Not unlike a reflection in a lake is the memory distorted, wrong. You’re on your knees without the pillow. He’s standing above you, not sitting. Your knees are bruised and bleeding. You’re crying. 

Some small part of him, one that he’d allowed to fester for far too long, enjoys the scene. Enjoys the submission, thrives in the knowledge that it is not only he that longs and wants and would press and press until nothing remains if only to bring you a sliver of happiness. You smile around his cock. It’s not the pain that brings you to tears. 

This isn’t right. This isn’t him. It’s Elspeth messing with his head. It’s Oliver whispering his lies in his ear. 

He wants to vomit. Why would they punish him so? To make him see you hurt, 

to force him to see himself hurt you, brutalize you, 

humiliate you. 

Why, when he adored you, worshiped you. If there was a puddle he’d lay himself down to let you walk over him. He’d drown himself so that you would not have to dirty yourself. Like a tumor he’d performed surgery after surgery to remove what you didn’t like. 

And you did the same. 

The image is restored, but he’s already on his feet. 

He would wait no longer. 

Felix runs up the stairs but is forced to a halt by the moans coming from the king’s bedroom. Another memory? The door is already open. 

“Tell me your vows again.” 

You’ve got your legs up in the air behind you, head resting in your hands as you stare at him. 

“Dear,” Felix turns around from where he stood by the window. Your name sounds like prayer on his lips. “I’ve never been alone. People have flocked to me since before I can remember. But they didn’t see me. But you… you, I let you see me. It’s a rare gift. And it’s one that I’ve never regretted giving you. I’ve never felt more loved than in your arms. Do I need to continue, Mrs Catton?” 

You laugh. 

“Come to bed, Felix.”

The memory changes before he can enjoy the sight of you in your wedding dress. The happiest day of his life. Gone in a blink. 

You’re no longer on the bed. You’re in his arms, crying yet again. There’s blood on his shirt. No finger graces your finger. Felix closes his eyes. He knows this memory. KNows very well what he’d have to endure to get back to you. 

“Y-you killed him!” You shudder. 

Felix shushes you. “There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way.”

“Not this time." 

Truly, there wasn’t. You saw much, but Oliver was so good at pretending to be someone else that he even fooled himself into believing his own lies. And so, you thought nothing of it when Oliver offered you his bottle of wine. Had no idea of the drugs that he’d shoved in there. 

“Are you scared of me?” Felix asks you. His voice shakes. He remembers his own fear, how his stomach churned. He could write a thousand words and not even chip at the surface of the emotions he felt. A thrill at the thought of you finally seeing the deepest deepest parts of him? Disgust that he’d slipped and revealed a crack in his mask? Such fear that it clung to his very bones, stopped his lungs from working and had his own eyes water with tears? All true. And yet all of them are false. There wasn’t a single emotion he could place, they all blended together to form a concoction of heart-wrenching pain and fear. 

The memory fades away. He doesn’t remember the rest. All he remembers is how it ended. 

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts. His hands are cradling your face, kissing away the tears of pleasure. You push your legs up higher on his back where you’ve hitched them, your own hands pressing against his own face to bring him closer. He’s inside you but he’s not close enough. 

Felix leans down to cover your whole body with his. You squeak at the change. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back with a moan. 

He moves a deft finger down to press down on your clit. He experimented with pressure, directions, even spelled out his own name with your pleasure. Felix feels as though he’s on fire, but still he wants more. He wants to be closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. 

You clench around his cock, and he stutters. 

The love in your eyes makes him falter, before he drives into you faster than before. The bed squeaks, one hard thrust away from breaking. Fitting. So is he. Your right hand moved up his cheekbone, past his ear and to the back of his head. Your touch is gentle, barely-there pressure as you guide him down to slant your mouth over his. His heart aches with love, adoration, you. You’ve made it your home. 

Yet again he is denied release as the memory is gone. The room is empty. 

“Fuck.”

It’s not graceful the way he stalks out of the room. No more interruptions, he thinks. 

The last door in the corridor. Yours. And his. Your marital chambers, as Duncan would call it. Old fashioned bastard. 

He pushes it open without as much as a knock. And there you are. 

“Felix!” You cross the room in seconds and then you’ve thrown yourself in his arms. “We missed you!”

Your rounded stomach presses into him. He rests his forehead on yours, pressing long, soft kisses against your lips, even as you giggle and try to move away. When you do, he chases after you. He’s not done. Never done. 

His legs feel like jelly, his soul is on fire, 

but he finally found you.

In a house full of memories and vengeful ghosts he found you. 

And you saw him, as you always do, and he’s tugged back into bed with the comforting weight of you pressing him down into the mattress. 

And he’s almost content. 

Almost. 

Taglist:

@fedyascoffin

[averageallogene]

Lyney ♡⊹˚ His lucky charm [NSFW]

✧˖°. Summary: Before his most recent shows, Lyney seems to have some nervousness regarding his abilities as a magician. Thankfully, his lovely girlfriend is always there to ease his mind beforehand, providing him with the luck her magician boyfriend needs.

fem. reader (3rd person) ; this is basically smut with little more than an intro to it, so beware. Also SPOILERS for ACT I of the first Fontaine Archon Quest. 

5k words.

notes. Hi yes hello I am back, I have played the two Archon Quests, and after working a little for my thesis I decided to write something by my own volition <3. I’m not sure if Lyney here might be portrayed accurately but nonetheless I really wanted to write a smaller piece for him before doing it for other characters! He’s adorable :( ♡ Enjoy ✧˖°

By clicking on the “expand”, you are hereby agreeing to view NSFW content. PLEASE if you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT. 

PLEASE do not report, as this is my warning to those who do not wish to view NSFW. I, like most writers, work hard on each piece we choose to publish, and reporting it will decrease the number of readers it reaches... Thank you for understanding ✧˖°

Magicians have no need for something many folk cling onto - luck. After all, every trick they perform is something they study, polish, rearrange, rehearse. Everything is staged to the finest of details, leaving no room for unpredictable variables to enter the equation. Every performance is acted out accordingly, a mental checklist going on inside the performer's mind as each prop is placed and moved about, each line is repeated from the rehearsals, each movement in one’s body is carefully played out. Everything is a carefully crafted performance, and what need do they have for luck? None.

To Lyney, such is the truth. Well, at least this philosophy held itself rock solid, up until the incident that nearly landed him a guilty verdict. Despite his confidence in his abilities to wow the crowds, even before there would always be a small but ever present pitter patter to his heart, a quiet reminder of his own nervousness before the show would begin. He would usually handle himself most well, though through the eyes of those closest to them, the normal feeling of “performance jitters” wasn’t all that well hidden. Well, and if that were the case, more so after things went back to normal.

His breathing would be a little more unstable, his fingers would fidget with one of his cards as his eyes darted about his changing room. He would fiddle with his exquisite hat, rebraid his hair while trying to ease himself. Things had gone back to normal, their scheduled shows were once more popular and always fully booked. Yet still, there always was this sense of anxiety deep in his stomach, never truly going away as he quietly wondered if the show would go as planned. 

Well, thankfully he had someone to help ease his mind each time. And as if right on que as he brooded over the upcoming performance, a knock to his dressing room was heard, the door opening to reveal the loveliest of sights. At the door stood [F/N], his lovely girlfriend who would always visit him before he went on stage. 

“Hi Lyney! Hope I’m not intruding?” She asked sweetly, smiling his way which only helped to ease his worries.

“You never are, my love. Come in!” He breathes out, the eagerness to have her close not quite passing unnoticed to her. He extends his arms before fully taking her in his embrace, sighing deeply as he inhales the familiar perfume she would always wear. His favorite. 

“How are you feeling?” [F/N]’s voice grows softer, her arms resting around his lower back as she smiles his way. The silence that follows is enough of an answer, her magician simply distracting himself with playing with the tips of her hair. “...Nervous?”

“...Hah, why it seems nothing really blinks past you. I may have taught you… Too well…” He jests, the smile on his face betraying him before it drops slightly. It reveals some of his vulnerability for her, his violet eyes locking with her own before he speaks up again. “I suppose it’s just some performance jitters again, nothing new...”

“It’s okay Lyney. You’ll do great, I know so.” Her smile shone brighter than the very sun, beaming with warmth that was only cast to him. It comforted his very being, filling his conflicted heart with sugary sweetness that only soothed him in a way no one else could. And if that wasn’t enough, the next few sentences were the ones that would always, always seal the deal for him. “Everything will go well, and everyone will be wowed by your hard work. I’m proud of you.”

It was as though his heart was struck, pierced with cupid’s arrow as he couldn’t keep up the calm and confident act. Lyney’s body visibly relaxed, a content snicker escaping his lips as his arms brought her closer. His lips were quicker than his words, filling her face with brief yet lovely kisses, watching with glee as she giggled as a response. Amidst each kiss he whispered words of gratitude for her support, his hands roaming throughout her lower back as he yearned to feel her closer and closer. 

“Lyney… You didn’t even let me finish!” She laughed, her words being cut off with a deeper kiss as his lips found her own. She could feel his smile against her lips, the magician quite literally stealing her breath away before finally pulling away. 

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I just can’t contain myself, you’re just too adorable for me to!” He sighed, the flamboyant hum in which he spoke glittering the otherwise full truth she very well knew. “To think a professional magician would be wowed in such a way, you’ll be the death of me…”

“You almost make it sound like I’m such a bad thing.” [F/N] rolled her eyes playfully, her fingers carefully adjusting his hair before inspecting to see if his braid was well done. 

It was in small moments like so that Lyney would cease to speak, allowing his beloved to do as she pleased. His eyes would focus solely on her, watching how her expression would shift, her eyes roaming about to ensure he looked his absolute best. He could feel his heart beating hard against his ribcage, no longer solely because of the nervousness he would feel before each one of his shows. The mere sight of his girlfriend was enough to blow away the growing blaze of anxiety, leaving it only in embers that with time would cease. Her mere care, her mere nature, her beauty inside out… 

It was enough to leave Lyney riddled into little more than a lovesick puppy, the loopy smile upon his pretty face being reserved only for her. 

“Lyney?” [F/N] called for him once more, watching as he finally seemed to come back to. His hands were roaming around her hips, carefully circling around her figure as he finally let out a soft hum for her to continue. “You’re a little too quiet… Everything okay?”

“I’m so lucky to have you, [F/N]...”

It was her turn to be left speechless, her face morphing to surprise as their gazes locked. He watched as the loveliest shade of red adorned her cheeks, the flusteredness he’d often cause on her never failing to amuse him. Still, despite so, he hoped she knew just how sincere he was with his words. 

“Oh Archons… What’s gotten into you?” Her voice whined a little lower, her eyes turning away to avoid him for a mere instance in which her flusteredness was still far too raw. She could feel how his lips chased after her skin, peppering her with light and soft kisses by the corner of her mouth. 

“Nothing.” He responded, his usual flair dropping to soft whispers as he carefully turned her around, helping her have a seat on his vanity. Between fleeting kisses, Lyney took the opportunity to bring himself between her legs, his hands never letting her stray far from himself. “I just wish to remind you more often, because it’s the truth.”

“Well I think it’s the other way around, you know… I’m the one that’s lucky here.” [F/N] smiled softly, her hands finding rest on his shoulders before gently massaging his tense muscles. Her boyfriend leaned back, his eyes gleaming with a twinkle that seemed familiar, one of challenge and mischievousness that would often leave her questioning before finally realizing what he’d plotted. 

“My my, is that so?” He hummed, head tilting to the side while his grip on her tightened ever so slightly. “If that’s the case, how come each time you visit me beforehand, every show I perform runs far better than what I expect?”

“Oh, you’re really running with that?” She giggled, music to his ears. “Only because I kissed you that one time, telling you it would bring you good luck?”

“And did that show not go beyond amazing? In fact, I do believe that was the peak in my career thus far.” He reasoned with a nod to his head, kissing her deeply before resting his forehead against her own. “Therefore, I’m the lucky one here, and you my dear [F/N], are my lucky charm.”

“Oh Lyney…” She sighed softly, stroking her hand through his blond locks slowly. “I didn’t know that tonight my magician was planning to turn me into putty in his hands.”

It was his turn to laugh, quietly, yet full of warmth and endearment. “It’s what you get for stealing this magician’s heart long ago.”

“Ah! I’m gone. Goodbye Fontaine, I am melting from my boyfriend’s words!” [F/N] leaned back dramatically, Lyney catching her before she would fall too far and hit her head against the large mirror of his vanity. The pair laughed in unison, fingers interlacing as he brought her close to himself once more.

“You’ve definitely gotten that dramatic flair from me.” He pointed out, his free hand now resting firmly on her thigh. He watched with hearts in his eyes as she giggled at his comment, shrugging her shoulders before bringing him closer with her legs. 

“I love you.” [F/N] whispered, leaning forward before it being her turn to steal a few kisses for herself. 

It never stopped after that though, one going after the other, kisses lingering longer before them turning into a longer makeout session. The way her lips were always so soft, so warm, the faint taste of her favorite chapstick melting against his own, it never failed to leave Lyney yearning for more, his whole being focusing solely on his lover whilst everything else blurred around them. His tongue carefully peeked through his own lips before swiping across her own, the grin being felt against her mouth as he felt her jolt slightly from the antic. Giving him permission to continue, Lyney carefully led the dance, his tongue meeting her own as they both ignored the need of air, muffled breaths fanning one another as their hands held the other closer, tighter. Before he knew it he was leaning himself forward and her backwards, a little more, his body pressing against her own before they were practically bent with her head touching the mirror behind them. Her legs were pressed against his sides, never letting him stray too far, her hands stroking through his back and hair, sending shivers down his spine as sparks ignited deep within him. 

“L…Lyn-ney…” She murmured between breaths, him finally tilting his head so the two of them could breathe. The way her tongue stuck out of her mouth as she breathed heavily seemed to only entice something further deep within him. “W…What about your show?”

“Worried about that?” He inquired, the clear endearment for her concern being evident in his tone of voice. He leaned closer, voice whispering as he slowly licked the strand of saliva that had dropped down her chin. “We still have time, if that’s what’s troubling you dear.”

“H-Hah…” The words seemed to get stuck on her throat as his hands maneuvered around her frame, carefully parting her legs a little more to give him better access. His fingers quickly grabbed a hold of the hem of her dress, lifting it up slightly before resting his palm on her warm thigh, his lips still remaining close to her own as his very being craved more of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” Lyney softly asked, leaning back as his own breath grew uneven. His face too displayed a lovely shade of pink, his lips redder after the relentless kisses she’d given him. His eyes were glittering with excitement, half-lidded with pure love as he waited for her response. His thumb was caressing her skin softly, the circular motion he did easing her more than arousing her as he searched for her honest answer.

It was embarrassing to admit, but [F/N] absolutely did not want to stop. Her body felt far too hot for her to go back on it now. “I… N-No.”

“Are you certain, dear?” He leaned closer, eyes squinting softly as his breath fanned her face. His hands slithered a little more upwards, giving her goosebumps as they traveled up to her hips. “I don’t want to put you in any situation that might be even a little uncomfortable… I will understand if this is-”

“N-No Lyney, I’m okay.” She nodded her head to reassure him, her hands gripping his clothing tighter as if not wanting him to move an inch away. “I admit, it’s… A bit nerve wracking, given the place but… I still don’t want you to stop.”

He bit his lip, smiling with both excitement and apology. “I’m sorry love, I always seem to get carried away when it’s about you.”

It definitely was the truth, especially given with the way his hands moved around her body. There was always a certain kind of care in each movement, his grip upon her skin tight and loving, as if reassuring himself she was there, with him. Lyney was both selfish and giving when it came to his beloved [F/N], always wanting more for himself, yet always wanting to reassure her she felt properly adored.  

“We’ll have to be-” He kissed her again, followed by another, her lips trying to keep up with his own as he gave her fleeting kisses. “Very quiet- Okay?”

“M-Mhm.” She nodded her head, her face blushing a deeper shade of red as his fingers finally lifted her skirt up. Her own hands helped him hold it up for him, watching him as it finally dawned on her, his figure getting nice and cozy in between her legs before he kneeled down. “L-Lyney?”

The grin he gave her was enough to make her lower region throb. 

“I’m craving a taste of you, baby. Could you please indulge me?” He whispered, his hands parting her legs before resting securely against them. His head turned to her left thigh, leaving a trail of small bites and kisses as he came closer, delighting himself in every reaction she offered him, every gasp and jump, every attempt at caging his head in between her legs. 

“J-Just- Don’t tease me, please.” [F/N] outright pleaded, earning herself an honest nod of his head as his eyes sparkled in anticipation. 

Carefully, her eyes jumped back at the closed door before going back to him, her breath trembling as she breathed out from her parted lips. Whilst one hand held her dress up, the other slowly lowered, helping him to remove the lacey underwear that hid his most wanted prize away. And with a lift of her hips, they were off easily, hanging by her ankle as Lyney’s gaze focused solely on the erotic view before him. His [F/N], holding her dress up for him, sat on his vanity as her chest rose and lowered irregularly, her pussy in full display for him alone. It was enough to get him aroused, the fabric of his own clothes becoming far too constricting as he felt his boner raging to be freed.

His experienced hands crept closer, thumbs slowly hovering her juicy lips before deliciously parting them. He could feel his mouth go dry in an instance, the view of her leaking pussy outright hypnotizing him as she let out a quiet moan. He couldn’t help himself but play around with her pussy lips a little, after all, how could he not? The way her pretty hole would throb in want, leaking out her nectar only for him, dripping down her skin and onto his table, the squelching sounds being nearly enough for him to lose all sense of control. He couldn’t help himself but stare, watch in lust before her soft moans and whines became a little too loud, all the while still arousing him even further.

“Lyney!” She pleaded in a whisper, the pout she offered him sending his heart racing. 

“Yes, you’re right baby… I’m sorry.” He hummed, leaning forth before finally giving her heat a long, slow and deep lick. The vibrations from his hum resonated with her pussy, sending pleasant shockwaves throughout her body as she shut her lips right before moaning. “We’re gonna have to be quieter, love. Can you do that for me?” 

It was difficult to hear him when he was practically squishing his face against her pussy, yet from the mere fact he’d stopped, [F/N] had been able to deduct what he wanted from her quickly enough. She nodded her head eagerly, blushing even deeper as she bit her lip.

“Mhm… ‘M sorry…”

It truly divided Lyney’s heart in two, for he absolutely adored hearing every sound [F/N] would bless him with. Her voice already was pure melody for his ears, all the more when she would be moaning due to his administrations. However, the pure excitement of their ordeal, having a chance of being caught, it was enough to keep him going, to entice him to lick more, to lap around her clit again, to suckle on it whilst plunging one of his fingers deep inside. The way his beloved would instead jolt more often, writhe above him, attempt to suffocate him as her legs tried to close around him, all to not be as vocal, it all had him entranced. 

"You taste so good…" He groaned against her folds, his tongue practically spelling out his love for her as he ate her out with such passion. The groans and sighs that would escape him would only please her further, sending [F/N] closer and closer to her own release as she practically bit down her tongue to quiet out her own moans. Lyney simply couldn't have enough of her taste, lapping every last drop to his greedy tongue as he yearned for more, fingering and licking it out of her as he could feel her gummy walls throb against his fingers. "You're so wet, too… So dirty, my angel."

"L-Lyney…" She mumbled, her erotic whine finally pulling him out of his trance to look her way. By that point she'd already held her fingers around his hair, him not even noticing up until that very moment. 

His light eyes glanced up, for a moment the magician forgetting how to even breathe. It felt as though the wind was knocked out of him, staring up to see his beloved gazing down at him with such a needy look. Her cheeks were flushed, the thin layer of sweat visible on her forehead as her grip on his hair tightened softly. Her teeth were by that point gritting tightly against the hem of her dress, it being her faint attempt at keeping her noises down to a minimum as he ate her out to his heart's content. The view was dirty, marvelous. The dress was lifted to such a way he could now see part of her tummy as well, her body lined with sweat as it reacted to every little touch he gave her. 

It drove Lyney over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer. The breath finally left his mouth in a shaky notion, her thighs shaking like jello as it hit her bare pussy before he got up. 

"Gods, you're so gorgeous [F/N]." He outright moaned, his fingers carefully taking the fabric out of her mouth. He watched how she heaved deeply, her lips tempting him to latch onto them. And who was he to refuse, but a poor magician whose heart had been stolen by the woman before him?

He leaned in quickly, capturing her lips against his own as they both moaned against one another. Their hands couldn't let go of the other, fiddling with their clothes as they attempted to find the best position to finally get what they both wanted. [F/N] leaned herself to the edge of the table, her legs still apart for him as her fingers now fiddled with his belt, unbuckling it before finally freeing him of his leather shorts. Lyney could feel his cock throbbing already, eager to finally plunge inside of her spongy walls and ease the yearning he so deeply felt. He groaned against her lips as she finally freed his hard length, pumping it for him slowly as it was now her turn to suck on his tongue with her own lips. 

"I need you, Lyney…" [F/N] moaned, helping him to part her legs further as he kept his face closer to her own. 

"I know, baby, I know. It's only fair I indulge you after you've treated me so well, right?" He hummed with a smile, all the while his face indicating just how excited he was. 

He grunted quietly as he carefully rubbed his cock against her leaking folds, the two of them attempting to quiet their moans down to the best of their abilities. [F/N] could feel how the particularly protruding vein on the side of his cock rubbed against her pussy, sending tears to the corners of her eyes as she felt herself closer and closer to her release after being so well tended to by her lover. Lyney in turn kissed her tears away, his lips never leaving her face as he practically gulped down her moans to himself. After coating both her pussy with his pre and his cock with her bountiful juices he stopped, lining himself with her entrance before, with a glance shared, he carefully thrusted himself inside.

His hands gripped onto her knees, his lips shutting themselves tightly so as to not moan out as he often would. The way his eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to not voice much of the obvious pleasure he was feeling was a delightful view, [F/N]'s face blushing madly as she brought him closer. Her arms wrapped around him tightly as she hid her face against his neck, her lips pressing against his skin as she quietly whimpered in pleasure. 

"Ah, Lyney!" She moaned quietly, her nails digging into his shoulders as his own sighs of pleasure hit her ear. 

"You're so tight, baby-" He in turn hissed gently, feeling how her spongy walls swallowed him whole as he finally bottomed out. His own hands were gripping harshly against her skin, the two of them sharing moans between one another even as his tip hit her deepest part. "Fuck, you're so wet. It feels so good."

"Please Lyney, give me more…" [F/N] pleaded to him, her eyes wide and glistening with pleasure as she leaned back for an instance. At that point she was once more leaning back against the rest of his vanity, granting him access to pound as deeply as his heart desired. The mere sight of her in such a way was enough for him to derail. 

"Archons, anything for you [F/N]." The magician grunted, his hands leaving her knees as his lips latched onto her own. 

By her own she was able to open her legs as widely as possible, the hem of her dress covering everything from the mid-thigh up as her hands were far too busy around his body. They wrapped around him tightly, effectively caging Lyney in between her much to his contentment. His own hands were busy holding her as close as possible, resting on her hips securely as to not knock her or anything else out, the items on his furniture tumbling slightly with every thrust he pounded into her needy core. With each time he bottomed out Lyney reached deeper, the tip of his cock effectively kissing her cervix as he molded her walls to his shape. He drank her every moan as if he worshiped all sounds she offered, his lips sucking on her tongue in such a lewd manner that he couldn't help but grin over how she squeezed him harder over it. 

"Hyaahhhh, Hinhey…" [F/N] attempted to moan his name out, her puffy lips parted as his own toyed with her tongue to his pleasure. 

He could feel the way she was milking him dry, her juices thoroughly coating his cock generously as her pussy practically praised and outright worshiped him. Her walls throbbed deliriously, sending him closer and closer to his edge as he fucked her through what he very well knew was her approaching orgasm. 

"Is my baby- Close?" He leaned back to speak, humming quietly while licking his own lips eagerly. He watched as she nodded her head quickly, her fingers combing through his hair slowly, deeply. Just how he loved it. "Here, cum for me will you? You can take me like this as you do, right baby?"

[F/N] bit her lip, nodding her head again. She watched how one of his hands left her hips, holding it up for her to take it. His girlfriend took it without thinking twice, their fingers lacing together before Lyney held them against his mirror, his pace quickening up. Once more he glued his lips to hers, never quite truly satisfied with her kisses just as much as he never quite got enough of her pussy. Her breath against him grew ragged, her moans growing ever louder, all while trying to suppress them in what he could only find the cutest whines. He bent her more, held her tighter, he pounded deeper into her. He could feel her moans vibrate against his mouth before she finally gasped, a high pitched sob being all she could muster before her inner walls violently spasmed around him, creaming his cock bountifully as she rode her high. Even still, just as he'd asked her to, Lyney continued to thrust, still as deeply albeit slower, letting her savor her release just as he quickly followed with his closing one. 

"Gyah, L-Lyney-!" [F/N] moaned against him, he in turn shushed her in understanding. "Mmm, t-to much!"

"I'm so close baby, so close…" He whispered, his thrusts a little less rhythmic as he tried to focus. His eyes opened to gaze deeply into hers, the sight of her red cheeks and unfocused eyes only edging him further deep into the abyss of pleasure. "Can you please take it just a little more? Just like this…”

“Mhm…” She eagerly nodded her head, the tears of overstimulation streaming down her face sending a long shiver down his spine. His free hand came to rest upon the side of her face, thumb clearing the tears away as his grip on her other hand tightened. “I-Inside, please.”

He bit his tongue gently as he smiled, nodding his head before pulling her head closer for a deep kiss. “Anything for my lovely lady.”

Against him she moaned, him in unison as he felt the knot deep inside himself finally snap. Lyney felt his eyes shut, a deep low grunt leaving his throat before he finally felt his release wash over him. He thrusted deeper still, his pace finally slowing down as thick ropes of seed flooded over [F/N]’s inner walls. Her womb was eager to receive the abundant load, being painted white from inside out as it overflowed whilst he still remained sheathed inside. Whilst their fingers were still locked she brought him closer, holding him tightly as her body shivered with the overstimulation. Lyney could feel his breath finally begin to slow down, a few final slow thrusts of his hips following as he moaned quietly, ensuring he was milked for all he was worth. He held his [F/N] close, as close as possible, their bodies finally relaxing as they rested atop his vanity, her body welcoming him closer as his seed leaked down and dropped onto the ground.

Even as she still regulated her breath, lips puffy and red and mascara slightly smudged from the sweat and tears, Lyney lunged forward, capturing her lips for the millionth time. Never satiated, like the greedy man he was at heart, he smiled against her as he enveloped her closer, relishing a moment longer. The silence that followed felt comforting, the two of them sighing in bliss as he felt her arms around his figure. 

“Sorry… It must’ve been uncomfortable to sit like that, on such a surface.” He stated, eyebrows furrowing softly as his thumbs cleared her smudged makeup as much as he could. Lyney dared not move, still not even wanting to pull out. It wasn’t as though he could anyway, for the way [F/N]’s legs captured him definitely sent a message for him to stay a little longer.

“Mhm, it’s fine… I enjoyed it all the same.” She smiled sheepishly, relishing in his soft touches as she in turn rearranged his side swept bangs. 

“I’m glad.” He sighed in relief, the pair too engrossed into one another to even notice how some bottles had tumbled over amidst their frolicking. “Still, next time I’ll be sure to make up for it, for all of it.”

“Lyney, truly it’s fine!” [F/N] laughed softly, finally opening her legs for him to move more freely. She watched in amusement how her boyfriend coughed softly upon noticing how heavy she leaked, rummaging through the room to find a towel he could dampen to help clean up. “Sorry… We might’ve taken too long, no?”

“Hey, if anything it’s my fault… It’s what I get for being so greedy.” He reassured her with a sincere smile, carefully helping her to clean up before dressing her back up. [F/N] watched as he fanned his face with his hand, the blush on his face still evident as she helped him dress up as well, a snicker escaping her pretty lips at the sight. 

“Well… I still… Very much enjoyed it.” [F/N] reiterated, her voice low as she helped him button up his undershirt. His smile was difficult to ignore, especially so as she helped him retrace the tear he would always paint on his right cheek. 

“...I did, too.” He pulled her closer by the waist, smiling in a devilish, albeit inoffensive manner. He pulled her closer, stealing a deeper kiss as he relished on the taste of her lips, hoping to steal some of her chapstick for himself so he could taste it all throughout his performance. As he pulled away, he whispered quietly to her, fingers playing with the end of her hair. “...Maybe next time we do this, I can have you turned to my mirror. The faces you make are simply delicious, my dear.”

The way [F/N]’s face turned to utter surprise was enough of a reaction, the magician following with a sneaky laugh as he pinched her behind as the cherry on top. In turn, his girlfriend gently slapped his arm, huffing as her cheeks turned bright red, his laughter becoming louder as a result.

“Lyney!” She groaned, nearly turning around from him in embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry baby! Mostly.” He chuckled, embracing her before kissing her cheek with the usual level of endearment that was solely reserved for her. 

“Hmph…” She pouted, though both knew it wasn’t something to last long. “...Good luck on your show, honey.”

“After this? It’ll be the best show yet…” He in turn whispered, his forehead resting against her head as they quieted down. “I’ll see you after?”

“I’ll be waiting here.” [F/N] smiled softly, them embracing one another before finally deciding to part.

Well, Lyney had always been energetic in his performances, yet there seemed to be an improvement on that particular one. True to his word, that performance definitely did do amazingly well, becoming the talk of the following weeks.

All thanks to his lucky charm.

[roll-of-royces]

HC: How They Respond To Someone Flirting With You

At first he is subtle about his jealousy, his jaw tightens, he shifts a little closer. He makes an off-handed remark to whoever is causing the jealousy ("Yes, my partner and I went out for breakfast yesterday. We enjoyed it.").

If the stranger persists so does Zayne. Now it's an arm lightly curling around your waist. It's a kiss to the top of your head, a rare display of affection despite others nearby. The statements become more claiming, like "I am lucky to call them mine."

And if still whoever is the culprit does not get the hint, Zayne's passive-aggressiveness grows. He all out disengages from the situation entirely, "If you'll excuse us." Guiding you away with a hand firmly in the small of your back.

He doesn't blame you, he expects it. After all what he said is true, he knows he's lucky to have you. The night ends early, as he takes you back to his apartment. When you're alone, he's clingy. Hands on your face, then your hips. He kisses you more than usual, muttering compliments like curses, "I should have known with you being so beautiful." or "Let me show you how perfect you are."

Needless to say, you don't get much sleep.

It takes Xavier a moment to realize what is going on, but after he puts the pieces together his stance changes. His normally casual slouched posture straightens. His eyes, blinking away in errant contented sleepy thought a moment ago, are now sharp. He takes your hand.

If that is not enough his astonishment grows. He doesn't understand why someone would flirt with you when he is right there, holding your hand. And now you're starting to look uncomfortable. He fixes the stranger with a harsh glare.

And when that is ignored, he falls into the strong tone of a legendary Deepspace Hunter, who doesn't share his paramour with anyone. "We'll be leaving now." He pulls you away, grip tight on your hand not caring if he has come off as rude.

The two of you head off together, stopping at one of your favorite sweets shops as you do. Xavier is red in the face, and keeps glancing at you. He apologizes, saying "I could have handled that better." But his tenseness loosens when you kiss him, because at the end of the day you're going home together.

Despite his casualness, Rafayel notices the moment the first flirtatious comment leaves the stranger's mouth. It instantly becomes a competition, because Rafayel knows all of your favorite things. He's learned them happily over your time together. 

So each attempt at flirting is met with his own more dramatic attempt. The stranger compliments your hair, so he wraps it around his fingers and brings it to his mouth with a wink. The stranger says you look pretty, so Rafayel exclaims you are the most beautiful muse he has and will ever have. 

The two of you end up making a bit of a game of it, until eventually the stranger gives up and leaves. When he's gone Rafayel laughs, "Did he actually think he had a chance?" 

You laugh, and happily kiss him. It doesn't matter that you're at a party. You're with your love, and Rafayel is happy, smiling wide, grinning too often and never leaving your side.