#but I was also limited in what I could do

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

This is more personal rambling than anything else (for reasons that will become clear lol), but I'm currently in the worst phase for my ADHD.

I'm pretty lucky with it by and large - there are some symptoms of ADHD that I would hate, loathe and detest having, and I don't have them. My sister has emotional dysregulation and very mild RSD, and fuck me, I would hate to have those. I also don't have anything close to the conversational impulsivity that people stereotypically think of with it, so that's a whole thing I don't have to deal with. My addictive tendencies are pretty mild. The symptoms I do have are moderate, sometimes mild. It could be a lot, lot worse.

BUT I am currently in the danger zone, as it were. Something I'm prone to, for good or bad, is that when I'm going through a busy period with a fixed deadline (end of term, last submissions of my PCET and the exam boards all happened in the last two weeks), it's like I'm running through a tunnel with a comically oversized mallet. I have set goals, and set deadlines. This means that I know exactly which tasks I need to focus on, and complete, and so everything else can be safely ignored or batted forward with the mallet to deal with after the tunnel. And this starts mild, the tunnel is fairly wide; but, as I keep going, I go faster and faster and it gets narrower and narrower until even things like "Answering texts from friends" gets blasted back up that tunnel, straight into the "Deal With Later" pile.

But then the deadline arrives, and I get everything in, and it's all over, and I plummet out of the tunnel -

And find I'm in a massive open field, with pretty wildflowers dancing in the breeze, and all those things I was ignoring and punting up the tunnel ahead of me are scattered all around. There is no direction in the field. The Things are randomly scattered. I need to pick them all up in turn to work out how important they are, and what order to now do them in; but there are so very many, and some are hidden in the grass, and I am tired from the tunnel and want to look at the flowers. Sometimes I pick one up and start sprinting with it, because that's what I'm now used to doing; but then it's done really quickly, or I trip over another hidden one, and so I get distracted.

And that's how I feel at the minute. I'm in the 'drifting in a field' phase. Limited motivation to do anything, surrounded by the detritus of stuff I put off, needing to get my shit together and struggling to do it. I almost miss the tunnel - the tunnel gave a direction and also permission to ignore things. The field gives neither. It's not overwhelm as such - it's like the sudden lifting of pressure, and now I'm unravelling as a result.

Ironically - or possibly aptly - I don't know where I'm going with this

#tedious personal details #adhd

[chubsonthemoon]

It is done! This is The Death of Translation, originally written in English by @landwriter, translated into Mandarin by @thirrith. Binding is dos-à-dos, with English version on one side and Mandarin on the other. Bookcloth was handwoven by me, on my rigid heddle loom :3

More under the cut!

Typeset: Fanbinders are Liars

Full stop, this typeset would not have been possible without Eth and all their patience, enthusiasm, and willingness to do even more translating! I reached out to them *checks watch* nearly a year ago in July 2023 (lololol), asking if I could use their translation of TDOT in a surprise bind I wanted to send along with Gloam's author copy of Flower King. They were kind enough to say yes, and even kinder to answer my questions when I reached out six months later in January, when I was finally able to start work on the typeset.

We talked about the many delicious things that are bound to come up when discussing translating not just from English to Mandarin, but also from digital space to meatspace. Some topics I had anticipated, like font questions, translating the colophon, etc. But even with the topics I thought I'd prepared for, there were still things that came up that both surprised and delighted: for example, while AO3's website allows for italics in Mandarin--

--my publishing program doesn't (or at least, it doesn't without needing to manually tilt every character by about 10 degrees). So as a workaround, Eth suggested changing these cases of italics to the font 华文楷体:

Through no one's fault but my own, this ended up being only slightly less work than manually tilting every instance of italics--I wanted to be sure that I got all of them, so I ended up doing a lot of double-checking manually anyway, instead of relying solely on the Search function. There was a lot of cross-referencing with the Word document that Eth was kind enough to provide, as well as squinting and general swearing. I also did the same for the uses of Latin script, manually styling each instance as Garamond to keep it consistent with the English edition:

The only other time I've had to do font surgery this intensive is probably for my typeset for Tell Me About the Big Bang, which I had to port over from a PDF. Folks, hell on earth. Do not recommend XD I remember squinting at my monitor as I had to visually confirm every instance of italics, thinking I will never do this again. Welp, four years later, here were are: fanbinders are liars, LMAO. At the very least, using Eth's Word document at least allowed me to search by styles, so it was a little easier on my eyes. 🙏

Is there a script that I might've been able to use if I was more code-savvy? Probably. But I figured going at it sledgehammer style would be the least hair-pulling way to get the job done, weirdly enough. Still, despite my best efforts, there are a few instances of PMingLiU to Garamond and PMingLiU to 华文楷体 that I know I missed, and I know I missed them because I caught them after I'd printed/cut/folded/sewn/glued (cue more swearing), so Gloam and Eth, my apologies >.< please consider them artifacts of a uniquely handmade object ajslkdjfs

In addition to the fonts, there were also some other fun things Eth and I discussed, like how to translate the notes I usually provide on the colophons! In addition to information on fonts, I also usually include some variation of:

This private, limited edition published by chubsthehamster (Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing) in 2024. This is chubsthehamster's personal copy. Out of three existing copies, this is the first.

The thing that came up with this, which still tickles my brain to this day, was how Eth chose how to translate "Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing." To get a better sense of what word to use for "imprint," they asked what the relationship was between Moonham Press and Renegade Publishing, which got me thinking about the relationship between my lil imprint and the wonderful @renegadeguild:

What's all very funny about all of this is that we are now, in fact, going by the name "Renegade Bookbinding Guild," per our most recently updated Code of Conduct. While this renders the wording I asked for out of date (and thus, the wording that made it into the book out of date :'D), I think it's also a testament to how cool the work @renegadeguild is doing--like any artform, fanbinding is alive, with its own evolving language, communities, and ideas about the craft. And I love it, I love it so much. (Was this also a plug for our new-ish website? Perhaps).

There's more I could say here, but this post is already going to be long enough, so I'll move on for now! If you get anything from this section, it's that @thirrith is amazing and very patient and kind, and I'm so grateful that we got to talk shop together. Thank you so much for all your invaluable help with this, Eth! I hope the typeset, though undoubtedly flawed, does your hard work justice!

Binding: Or, SO Much Math. Like, So Much, Guys. (It was worth it, though!)

Whoo, boy! So math was never my strong suit in school, but when I set out to do this bind last year, that wasn't an issue. At first. The dos-à-dos binding, if anything, just requires a little bit of finagling on the usual case-bound format--a bit more math if you want to do an all-cloth cover, like I planned on doing, but nothing I couldn't work out with some trial and error. (My prototype below!)

Then came February, when I took a weaving class with my friend, and then everything kinda exploded.

My original idea was to use some green Duo bookcloth I had on hand (this color, actually)--for those of you not initiated into the Duo cult, Duo is a Rayon bookcloth with a very devoted fan following in Renegade. It's very pretty; the Rayon weave is one color, and the paper backing is usually complementary color, so it has this cool two-toned effect. Duo is in high demand in Renegade circles because sadly, the company that manufactures it went out of business last year. (Although I've heard rumors recently that there's another company making something similar, but the cloth has a really high purchase requirement and is, like, for businesses only I think).

Anyway, I also wanted to have a gold line around the whole book as a kind of bellyband/obi to further connect the two versions of the story (another reason why I chose the dos-à-dos format to begin with heh), as you can see from my scribbled notes here--

But alas! I knew going in that adhering things to Duo is often Problematic, thanks to one very painful experience trying to get some iron-on foil on another bind (the textured surface of Duo just makes it kinda hard to stick or paint stuff on it). So if I wanted a clean, continuous line, the remaining options were to either paint it on a strip of paper that I'd somehow...adhere to the cloth? Or maybe cut different slices of bookcloth and glue them on. I wasn't satisfied with either of those options, though.

Then--the weaving class. I made a scarf, and I love it and I loved making it. But the whole time, I'll not lie, my thoughts were elsewhere.

In short, my decision to weave my own bookcloth kinda came from a few different factors:

The desire to attempt to recreate Duo, that elusive beauty, the one that got away, etc. (I have several yards in my stash, but still). Others have also attempted to recreate it, and I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.

My current spiral into the deep hole that is fiber arts (it started with crochet, then knitting, then sewing, then weaving, then spinning, and now I'm eyeing quilting! Please help me).

The gold line. It kept bugging me. And when I found weaving, I just thought there was something very neat about the process of actually making the cloth for a dos-à-dos binding from scratch, and especially for this binding. I wanted to bind a story about translation (or rather, the death of it, and yet still the necessity of it--how we must try to communicate, despite of, or perhaps precisely because of, everything that gets lost in the spaces between people, and the tragedy of that loss, and the beauty of what makes it through, and the love always present in the effort regardless), and also, the translation of that story. Weaving is a very meditative process, and with every pass of the shuttle, back and forth, building slowly but surely the fabric that would hold the story that Gloam had written and that Eth had translated, I thought a lot about translation, and the gaps between people, and how we choose our words not just when translating, but when we speak at all. From a design perspective, I used the same colors I would've used had I chosen the Duo bookcloth--green and gold--so the design wasn't too altered in terms of color scheme. But I think the choice to weave the bookcloth--the thing that bound it all together--made the project take on a completely new meaning for me, both in process and in scope, one that hadn't been there when I started. I saw the warp, perhaps, as the original story, laying the groundwork for the weft, the translation; or maybe it was the other way around, with the translation providing the scaffolding for its own, new meaning, choices that Eth had to make with this word or phrase or another building something new, something translated, and the original a live, moving thing that wove over and under each word turned phrase turned story; or maybe it was both. Maybe it didn't matter which was which, in the end. And as I wove, the thing that connected them, that gold line that had started all of this, slowly formed.

All that to say: Good God, was there a lot of math. So much math. That prototype pictured above was actually made specifically so I could calculate exactly how much I needed to weave, lol, because while I certainly had enough thread, I didn't want to have to warp more than once. I'd learned the basics in my class, but the training wheels came off here. I wanted to make my own custom fabric, which meant calculating things like ends per inch, picks per inch, loom waste, shrinkage after washing, the width of that damn gold line, how much I'd need for the hinge, the turn-ins, the boards--the whole nine yards (I didn't actually weave nine yards tho heh). It was all absolutely worth it in the end--so challenging and so, so rewarding!

(And my final reason for weaving the bookcloth? Not gonna lie, It was because I just wanted to see if I could do it LOL. I love trying at least one new thing with each of my binds, and this was it for this project. While I've been bookbinding for a few years now, I'm still very much a beginner weaver, and I'm so excited to continue to learn and experiment! Also, here's a video of me unwinding the cloth from the loom, heh. I used 10/2 Perle cotton in gold and green colors :3)

Also, turns out, you can back handmade cloth the same way you can any other cloth! I backed it using my usual heat-n-bond method, and with some Unryu Tissue in the color Forest. Since the cloth itself is a bit transparent, there are a bunch of really fun fibers you can see when it's held up to the light, but which aren't visible when the cloth is glued down to the boards. Still, knowing they're there still makes me happy :D

Finally, capping all this off, is one final, small detail I really liked: ginkgo leaf endpapers :3 this one's for me and Eth and Gloam specifically <3

Aaaand that's all from me for today, folks! Thus ends (several months late XD) my last Binderary project for the year. This was probably my most ambitious bind to date, and gosh it was so, so much fun.

And, of course, thank you so much to Gloam for sharing your story, and Eth for translating it. I can't wait for y'all to receive your copies soon!

All my love! <3

#the sandman #The Death of Translation #bookbinding #fanbinding #binderary 2024 #<<<lol #landwriter #Ethiseth #also IF YOU SAW THIS POST BEFORE I FINISHED WRITING IT. NO U DIDN'T AJLKSDJFS #weaving #rigid heddle weaving

[bandgie]

In Pixie Dust We Trust

synopsis: You're content with being Chris's best friend for all eternity. It doesn't matter how big your heart is, you're small where it matters most. That's what you think at least.

warnings: MDNI 18+, fem!reader, microphilia (reader is 7-10in/17-25cm), pussy eating, boobie sucking, reader used as a fleshlight (non-penetrative), cum eating (m!), jerking off, little bit of jealously in the beginning, does this count as monsterfucking? idk

notes: man, I did like 3 different rough drafts on this and said fuck it. ALSO?? I guess grammarly has limited help options now? fucking assholes

3.5k words

It would be impossible for Chris to hear you cheering for him amongst the dozens of shouting people, but you scream anyway.

“Go Chris!” You cup your hands around your mouth for extra volume, “Go, go, go!”

Mythics alike cheer for their representative species. Sirens, vampryes, lycans, and many more creatures roar for a winner. Despite the overwhelming number of Mythics, humans fill up a good portion of the audience to spur on Chris. He’s the only mortal in the swim meet, one of the rare humans to be able to compete against creatures like yourself. 

Truthfully, you’re not too aware of the rules when it comes to swimming. Something about a certain amount of meters, certain strokes, and when you’re supposed to come up for air. The explanations went right over your head when Chris told them to you, but that doesn’t stop you from screaming your little lungs out. 

“Jeez,” Felix rubs his ear. “Who would’ve thought a little pixie like you could scream so loud.” 

You give him an apologetic smile. “Sorry!” You decide it’s better to find a better sitting spot. Felix’s shoulder is always your go-to seat, but you don’t want to burst his eardrums from your screams. Your wings flutter rapidly, raising you high until you plop on his blonde hair. 

At least you didn’t have to pay for a seat. Being the mere size of a hand, you can easily sit on someone instead. 

You lean to one side of Felix’s head, “This better?” He nods, making your grip on his hair so you don’t slip off. “Yeah. You can cheer for your human boyfriend all you want now.” Felix’s head lightly shakes as he laughs. A sheep shade of crimson creeps up your neck and you yank on his hair. “Shut up! He’s not my boyfriend!” 

You only feel a little bad when Felix whines. He reaches his hand to fight you with the wiggle of his fingers that you slap away while giggling. “Ouch! That hurt.” 

“Whatever,” you slap the final finger away. “You deserved it.” Felix scoffs, rolling his eyes though you can’t see. “For what? Saying the truth? I’m a nymph, baby. You can’t hide those feelings from me.”

Now it’s you who rolls their eyes. As much as you would want to argue with Felix, he’s right. You may have the best friend title when it comes to Chris, but you want Chris in a way you know you shouldn't. You want to feel him hold you, have his lips pepper kisses all over your magical body until you can’t breathe. He doesn’t know how much you yearn for him when you sit on his shoulder, your wings bashfully fluttering when he talks low just for you to hear. 

It doesn’t do any good for you to think like that. It’s better to blink those thoughts away and keep cheering, pretending you’re perfectly fine with being Chris’s tiny best friend. 

But pretending is never easy for a pixie. Having such a small body does nothing to lessen the emotions you feel. Felix is doing everything he can to keep you from flying away and sobbing your heart out. When you two went looking for Chris to congratulate him on placing in the top three, neither of you expected the many female Mythics and humans to praise him. 

“Hey! He’s just feeling excited from the race, he’s just super hyped right now.” Felix laughs nervously. “It’s no biggie. They’re just all congratulating him.”

You wish that were true or that you believed it. Instead, you’re frozen at the sight of Chris smiling from whatever they’resaying. One of them goes as far as to whisper in his ear, earning a deep blush from his wet face. Felix panics more. “She just- She said- oh damn.”

It shouldn’t bother you. If anything, you should be happy that Chris is finally getting the attention he deserves. He deserves people supporting him. Someone who can give him a happy, normal-sized relationship even if they aren’thuman. Not a pixie who is barely bigger than the size of his hand. 

You blink your tears away, ignoring the ugly lump in your throat as you dejectedly fly next to Felix’s face. “It’s fine. Let’sjust go.” Felix whips his head to you, eyes wide with sincerity. “No! Pixie, we came out here for him. We can at least say hi then leave right after.” 

There’s a twinge of hope in his eyes. Felix has been rooting for you since you told him about your unrequited love. Although you would roll your eyes at his support most of the time, it did boost some confidence in you. Now you realize it was all foolish. A stupid dream you should have kept sleeping. 

You shake your head, “I can’t face him, Lix. Not when every girl in this damn city is trying to make him their mate. It’snot like he’d notice me leaving anyway.”

“You’re leaving?” Chris’s voice makes you and Felix jump. His hair is flat against his head from the diving cap he was wearing. It drips with water, leaking down his beautiful face to his naked torso. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

It’s only for a brief moment that you’re stunned. You weren’t prepared to see him so quickly. “Y-”

“No,” Felix quickly interrupts you. “She meant when is everyone else gonna leave. It’s so stuffed in here.” Felix looks at you wide-eyed as if to say don’t say anything before looking at Chris. “But dude! Congratulations!”

Chris’s signature dimple appears on his face. He wraps an arm around the nymph’s shoulder and brings him in for a hug.“I totally thought I was gonna get last. Those sirens are fucking fast.”

The embrace doesn’t last too long, not when Chris is eager to hear you praise him.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It was really impressive. I’m so proud of you!” It’s hard for you to do your normal joyful screaming, not when the bashful look he gave the mythic girl still lingers in your mind. You try to wipe the memory from your mind to focus on the mortal winner standing before you. The half-naked mortal winner that is.

“Yeah?” Chris lightens up at your words. His shining eyes warm your heart and your jealousy suddenly feels silly. “Fuck yeah! I knew you were gonna at least place in the top 5. But top 3? That’s Olympic shit right there.”

The flush on Chris’s face says it all. He rubs the back of his neck and giggles, a small squeak emitting from the back of his throat. “I would say thaaat.”

Felix laughs at the two of you, patting Chris on the shoulder. “I saw this Korean restaurant nearby - it looks super good. Minho told me that the chefs are all human. We should go before it gets packed!” The three of you look amongst each other and nod, humming about how hungry Chris must be.

“You can save a spot for us, Felix,” Chris smiles at him. “We’ll be there soon.”

You and Chris wave Felix goodbye. You wait until he’s out of earshot before you ask Chris, “Are we gonna meet up with him later?”

Chris smiles ear to ear. “We are. I was really hoping you’d come back to my place for a surprise.” Excited is the best word to describe him right now. His eyes shine with what you think is mischievousness. You can’t help the butterflies in your stomach. You smile at him back, “Now? Dressed like that?”

“Oh shit.” Chris suddenly becomes aware of his nude attire, save for the tight speedo. “Let me change first, then we’ll to mine.”

-

The naughty look on his face wasn’t for nothing. Chris didn’t necessarily plan to have you like this; nude and whimpering, but he isn’t complaining either. His intentions were pure, really. He had set up his apartment all sweet, miniature roses that could easily fit in your palms as he asked you to be his lover. 

You thought of everything wrong at first. How strange it might look for your dainty self to be involved with a human. For him to practically live in the waters while you stay in the sky. Different, too different to work you said. You couldn’t help but think of all the other Mythics flocking to him; ones that he could benefit from and most importantly, ones that he can properly love.

Yet, all your worries were washed away in his eyes, full of love and compassion. He would love you because you’re you, no matter what size.

Now you’re thinking there won’t be enough time to meet Felix at that restaurant he’s been revving about when Chris’stongue ravages your body. Kissing him felt weird enough, your lips barely able to lock with his bottom one. But having him lick and suck on every part of your body easily took the cake. 

Chris is holding you gently in his palm, your wings tightly tucked into your back so he doesn’t accidentally get them wet. The tip of his tongue dips down into your cunt before it swipes up to your breasts. You can tell he’s trying to be romantic about it, but there’s nothing soft in the way he suckles on your tits, how his saliva drips down the curve of your mounds onto his palm.

“Shit,” you moan when Chris finds your sweet, tiny pussy again. “You’re getting me so wet.” In response, Chris pulls away. You whine at the loss of contact. Your body shivers in his hold from the lack of his hot mouth. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” But he doesn't look apologetic at all. Not when he’s looking at you as if he might take a bite. Not when he licks his lips at the sight of your body spread out in his palm, twitching and soaking. 

You reach a small hand up and grab the tip of his nose, earning a giggle from his pretty lips. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you push yourself up with an elbow to nuzzle against his face. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” the tips of his ears burn redder. “I like it too.”

The two of you share a laugh before you sprawl yourself back in his hold, opening your legs so his large tongue touches you where you need him most. Chris obediently nuzzles his tongue onto your cunt, flicking it upwards. Your hips chase the feeling, arching and twisting until he has to restrain you.

“Nooo,” you gently whine when he uses his fingers to pin your hands above your head. “Wanna feel it.”

Chris smiles, directing you to flatten your feet, spread your thighs, and arch until your back is completely lifted from his palm. It’s a weird position, but you wiggle in excitement when he leans his head down. “You will, baby,” he reassures.“Just gotta listen to me for a little, okay?”

You nod, forcing yourself still when you feel the familiar muscle on your core. It’s nearly similar to when you had the freedom to move, but there’s an extra layer of pleasure from being held back. For his tongue lick up and down, reaching up high to your stomach down to your ass. Chris doesn’t have to add much pressure, not when his tongue is half the size of your entire self.

The first taste of your orgasm builds when he swipes his tongue side to side. It moves your vulva perfectly, not focusing so much on your sensitive nub. Your hands grip his fingertips and you moan. “Channie…i’mma cum.”

He hums against your body, acknowledging your impending orgasm. Chris is too busy trying to get you on his taste buds. It’s more of a hint than a flavor of your pussy. If only Chris could drown in it. To feel these small thighs wrap around his head and yank him closer until all he can sense is you. But having your boobs and pussy in his mouth nearly at the same time is a huge win for him regardless. 

Your walls clench, a clear sign that you only have mere seconds before you cum. Maybe you could ask Chris to put justthe tip of his pinky finger in. It would stretch you so much, so good. If you can’t take his cock, you’ll take the next best thing. 

“In,” you mewl. “Want it in me.” 

Chris raises an eyebrow at you, clearly confused by what you mean. He can’t put anything in you, he doesn’t even want to think about it. He shakes his head with your pussy in his mouth, back to focusing on the task at hand.

“Channie!” You nearly scream his name. “Please! I’ve been good. I’ve been so good! Just the tip of your finger and-”

He sucks hard, making your entire body move from the suction. You wail, digging the back of your head further into his palm. He sucks and licks, obviously trying to get your mind off of being filled and instead finishing on his tongue. It works because all you can think about is flooding Chris’s mouth with your juices. You think about how good it’s going to feel to have his big tongue on you, licking you up.

You dig your nails into his fingers and tense. Chris places the tip of his tongue perfectly on your clit and you finally cum. 

He holds you while you shake. Chris can feel the trembling of your body, he can taste the essence of your orgasm, and he can hear your pretty little moans as you tip over. He can’t help but giggle at how your little hips roughly rock against his tongue. Deciding to give you a different sensation, Chris puts his tongue back in his mouth and puckers his lips instead. The plushness is the best way to ride out your high, gentle and soft.

You collapse in his hands when you come down. You can only whimper when he carefully nuzzles your body against his face affectionately. Chris peppers kisses on your body, from the top of your head to the soaked place between your thighs. It helps get you refocused by grounding yourself from his touch. You return his kisses, placing your hands on either side of his cheek and feeling his mouth against yours.

It feels like he’s trying to swallow you or maybe not trying to. You can’t really tell, but you don’t really mind. All you care about is how he whimpers against your lips, making you concerned about his state. 

You pull from his lips and adjust in his hands until you’re sitting. “It hurts. Doesn't it, Channie?” You don’t need to specify what you’re talking about. Not when you can see the need in his eyes, the pout in his lips. Chris nods, almost ashamed. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “I dunno what to do about it.”

He looks so dejected, so lost. Your wings untuck from your back and flutter until you’re lifted in the air. Chris’s eyes drop to your breasts as if he wasn’t just drooling on them minutes ago. You snap your fingers until he looks into your eyes. “I know what to do. Why don’t you sit down for me and let me take care of you now.”

You can tell he’s hesitant. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he doesn’t know how he wants to. Chris easilylistens to your instructions; how you want him stripped from the lower half, sitting on the couch with his legs sprawled open so his hard, leaky cock is pretty on display.

Chris looks nervous, you can tell by how he grabs a nearby pillow and hugs it to his chest. “Are you sure, baby? I don’twant you to hurt yourself.” 

How endearing your lover is. Willing to sacrifice his pleasure for your comfort.

You fly to his lap and rest on a meaty thigh. “You don’t gotta worry your pretty little head about nothing, Channie.” You reach out a hand to rub it against his cock. “I can handle it.”

Before he can say anything else, you quickly find your place on his shaft with your back facing him. You gasp at the warmth, the thickness of his cock between your legs. Your body is already wet from your orgasm, so it’s easy to gently slide against him. The veins from his cock seem huge this closeup and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body when your clit goes over one. 

“You’re so big Channie,” you hum, looking back. “Almost as big as me.”

Chris giggles shyly, adjusting in his seat so he slightly slouches against the cushions. You turn back to face his tip and place your little hands on his dick to balance yourself. A whine leaves Chris’s throat when you grind against him higher. Your hands reach out to play with his tip, swirling around the sensitive flesh and having your fingers rub against his slit. 

His hips thrust up and you let out a surprised squeal.

“S-shit, sorry,” he moans. “I didn’t mean to.” Chris is being so careful not to have you slip off, but it’s nearly impossible for him to keep still. Not when he can see your entire body jerking him off, your little ass humping his cock so nicely. He especially loves the wet trail that you leave behind with every grind. 

You laugh, “It’s okay. Just means you’re feeling good.”

Since you’re just slightly bigger than his length, you decide it would be better to lay completely flat on his cock and slide yourself that way. It’s silly though, humping his dick in a way that reminds you of the nights you spent on your tiny bed touching yourself at the thought of Chris. Now, you’re able to put all that practice to good use.

With your legs wrapped around the base, you find it much easier to slide yourself. To go at a speed that has Chris moaning and fisting his hands into the sofa. Your tongue lolls from your mouth as you moan with him, effectively adding moisture that makes everything wetter.

“Baby! Baby, baby, you’re gonna make me cum just like that.” Chris pants. One of his hands shoots down below his cock, tugging his balls to help get him closer. You tilt your head to look down at the sight, whimpering at how he holds and rubs his sack.

It makes you go faster. You practically squeeze his cock with your limbs almost painfully. Chris only finds pleasure in your hold though. Without thinking, Chris wraps his other hand around his cock and you. Your wings immediately find cover behind your back so they don’t get damaged. The hand around you tightens slightly. 

“You want me to use you, hm?” Chris carefully drags you up and down his length. “Be my little cocksleeve, is that it?” You can’t even be a fleshlight to him, but you can be useful. it’s near impossible to nod with how he’s holding you, but you let out a breathy yes. Your arms are locked at your sides from his grip, legs open and limp so he has more access to use you how he wants. 

You underestimated how slippery you would get. How his precum would leak onto your hair and face. A part of you thought it would be uncomfortable being pressed up against his cock like this, but all you can feel is how warm he is. It feels good to have him use your body like this, having your clit brush against his girth. 

Chris isn’t as careful this time, not that you mind anyway. He grunts with every drag, squeezing your body tighter until you whimper. You feel his cock twitch under you and your cunt clenches in response. 

“Fuckin’ shit,” he grunts. “Wrapped around my cock so tight.” 

You whimper. There isn’t a chance that you would be able to cum again. Your cunt is roughly pressed against his dick to get any real friction, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling any pleasure. “You’re using me so good, Channie. You gonna cum on me too?”

There isn’t a need for Chris’s confirmation. Not when the hot spurt of his release spews from his cock. You can’t see how far it shoots up, how it lands up to his thighs and leaks onto his hand. The only ounce of cum you get is on the top of your hair, a sticky, warm glob of white.

Chris releases you quickly, letting you get the proper chance to breathe and rest on his pulsing cock. 

It doesn’t last long, not when two hands carefully lift you and bring you close to Chris’s face. His neck is a deep shade of red. The blood rushes to his face to give off a pink hue. Even the tips of his ears burn with the same color. As fucked out as he looks, he still has the energy to give you an endearing smile. 

Your lips twist shyly, “Why are you looking at me like that? You know I’m completely covered in your cum, right?” But Chris only leans in and uses his nose to nuzzle against your face. 

“Mhm. My very own pixie dust.”

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz bangchan #skz bang chan #bangchan fic #christopher bang #bang chan smut #chris skz #chan smut #skz chan smut #bang chan

[skitskatdacat63]

Vettonso complaining about each other not respecting schrondinger's track limits on the radio compilation + Seb's commentary that made me a bit feral

Must include these sexy ass pics okay, it makes me feral how hard they race each other.

Also SO upset that we got this vid and there's also pictures(and presumably a vid out there somewhere) of Fernando, back then, ALSO debriefing this race. And yet we never got them together?????? Evil. Fucked up.

Imagine seeing them complaining about each other but also having to (begrudgingly if you're Fernando) compliment each other IN FRONT of each other. Maybe its a good thing it doesn't exist, bcs then I'd have a heart attack.

#this is just a supercut of the f1 vid in the source so you should watch that as well :) #thank you boo to inadvertently pointing me towards this moment cause man it makes me insane #like the added context of knowing seb was just being bratty cause he KNEW fernando was heated on the radio is SO funny #fernando's radios....actually so feral #'give back the position IMMEDIATELY' #fernando i dont have the position but i will do my best to give it to you anyways #grrrrrrr theres smth about getting to see seb discuss such a vettonso hard racing moment #he clearly respects him 🥹 #but even years on you can tell hes SO pleased abt how much he was irritating fernando #this is the kinda clip that makes me wish f1 had proximity chat #them both on the radio like 'does that idiot EVEN know what hes doing' #also the annoying confidence of seb on the radio saying its fernando's fault if he gets a punctuee #and not even mentioning the fact that he could get a puncture 😭 #but again. to hear him complimenting Fernando really kills me #just about his spacial awareness and how seb feels like he can always race him to the limit bcs he TRUSTS him #like that is the true f1 romance to me. racing someone hard and complaining on the radio but + #admitting that you never rly felt in danger bcs you TRUST the other driver!!!!!!! #i love sassy angry radios. they both sound so........yeah. im unwell #f1 #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #we do a little bit of f1 #2014 british gp #vettonso

[alcrego]

Digital walls, but walls

I encourage you to have a seat and read this little 'essay' I wrote back in 2014 if you really want to understand what I'm doing today. I would be really grateful and I'm sure you'll have a much better understanding of my whole work.

Digital walls, but walls

On the way to space and public art | came across the digital walls. They can be "painted" but they also have the function of limiting, of delimiting, of separating...

A change of paradigm has been happening for some years now with the arrival of the internet, which has completely changed some aspects and concepts that have to do with the world of art and more specifically with urban art or public art. From the beginning, this type of art has been carried out in public places with the aim of being observed by anyone on the street and thus making it free, accessible and free from any premise or institution when it is created. (not considering the "warlike coexistence” with the advertising).

The appearance of the Internet has changed it. A vast majority of the art is seen online on a screen, what questions that the street is the natural canvas of this art discipline. While it is for the one who creates the piece, it is almost never for the one who looks at it. Public spaces are no longer just physical, in the same way that the plastic arts are no longer just plastic.

Due to the access to technology and its cheapness, nowadays it is inconceivable to think of art without considering the whole digital sphere, whether as a tool, a method of creation or of dissemination. But at the same time, all these centuries of art history condition the understanding of art, sometimes acting as a burden in terms of understanding what art is.

The dragging of already preconceived ideas and the weight of the genetic inheritance makes us repeat concepts about what art is and was. In the face of such a rapid change of paradigm, it seems that we find it difficult to understand that this whole new digital world is still the world. Both virtual and augmented reality are also reality, but the fact that it is appreciated through a screen sometimes causes it not to be considered as something artistic or even real. Thinking that way we could say that looking at a piece of art on the Internet does not have its complete experience, since we are not seeing it in the place for which it was devised, and neither are we perceiving it in a direct way, but with a screen as an intermediary. But at the same time, I think about all the content that we consume today with these devices - movies, series, photographs, news, and even art, current and classic - and not because of that we think or say that they are unreal.

At this point, where the analog space merges with the digital space, a new artistic expression is born that is entirely digital, where the final piece is born and ends up in the digital realm. Conceived through digital tools and deposited in the public digital space. These pieces of art suggest skipping the step of "existing" first in the ‘real reality’ to reach directly the virtual reality, which is also reality, and once from there, to have an impact on the analog reality.

It would also be curious to reflect on the parallelism between urban art and digital art, since, being in public places, both are susceptible to being stolen, altered or appropriated by other people for different purposes. And also, on the idea of anonymity, always used by urban artists to be able to work in the street without risk of infringement, and now also used in the digital environment. Either by often using copyrighted content that we find on the web (street 2.0) for an artistic purpose or by the "erosion of sharing” in which at some point someone does not credit the work, but it is still shared. In this case there should be a new word to define those people that everybody knows, but nobody knows who they are. “Famonimous" characters or the concept of "famonimity"; people or artists who are known precisely because they are anonymous.

Since the beginnings of urban art, the idea was to use public space to express oneself freely, but we must bear in mind that public space is nothing more than the remainder of the space divided by the private, the "leftovers" after the developers pass, the worthless places left open to the common people by institutions, etc., etc..... With the change of social, technological and artistic paradigm, urban art has been normalized and is now used as a method of decoration of places in poor condition, as a complement to a public road or simply as a means of open artistic expression as it has always been. Because if the initial objective was to make art accessible, direct and open to everyone, that idea has moved to the internet and, in some ways, the radical idea of urban art would no longer have that sense.

Therefore, if we understand urban or public art as a type of art accessible to everyone, free of charge and without any kind of condition, | believe that digital art fulfils this role today, since it inhabits all public places, whether analog or digital. Urban art needs this digital sphere to be able to expand and be visible. Because nowadays most urban art is seen through screens, not in the place where the piece has been created, which makes all these works more accessible to everyone at any time. And so, the ’paradox of the graffiti artist’ is born, the one who expresses his freedom in the walls that imprison him. These walls generate private spaces and what is outside them is considered public space by the mere fact of being spaces where people pass through. But it does not mean that this public space is open to intervention. Every public space is under the supervision of a privative entity, whether it is a municipality, a company or simply, the property of an individual. Public space does not exist, neither in the ‘real reality’, nor in the virtual one. It is always subject to something superior that manages it.

Within this dilemma, augmented reality becomes another alternative to the path of public art. It gives the possibility of creating art in public spaces, only seen on digital devices, and using the ‘real reality’ as the piece’s canvas. Until recently, photography and/or video were methods of capturing reality. Now, with this change of prism, these disciplines moved from being the purpose itself, to becoming raw material for the creation of other new artistic expressions. In this direction, | want to focus on the gif format. This format is strictly digital, so it gives us the option to edit, to add movement to pieces that, before, condemned to live still. We can spread in on the Internet and make it accessible to everyone at any time. When adding augmented reality, the two concepts intertwine, urban/public art and digital art, what gives rise to new artistic expressions that call into question deep rooted concepts such as museum, art and reality.

There are already many centuries researching, testing and creating the same type of art, whether sculpture, painting.... Except for the birth of new "isms" within these disciplines, it gives the impression that they are exhausted. At this point it would be convenient to think about the idea of unique work, copy, forgery, recreation... Thinking about the evolution of art we must consider that all new progress is born of the technological options that occur in each era. Nowadays, the difference is that progress happens every day, very fast, and it seems that it is difficult (or unwilling) to understand this change because of the speed of it. This cultural and genetic heritage blurs our vision and sometimes prevents us from conceiving new artistic expressions as such, since there are no previous references to support them.

But, at the end of the day, every new artistic expression, in its beginnings, was not art. "Science develops ideas that come from art that is inspired by science.” The world of classical art enjoys an aura of untouchable deity because when we are born it has always been there, but we cannot forget to think for a moment with perspective that all this classical art was created mainly by the entities of power of each era: kings, church, political powers...

This is why today (without underestimating the technique and the work of the artists) these types of classical art enjoy an invulnerability as, in the end, it was created by and for the power itself.

Then, this type of art collides with the urban and/or public art, along with digital art. In the public and digital space those who decide what is "art" are the people.

I am sure that the first Cro-Magnon who used a tuft of horse hairs instead of his own hands to paint was seen as an art/magic/belief apath.

Now we live in a new paradigm shift, but in this case it is not local or national, it is global and immediate.

A. L. Crego, 2014.

#public space #digital art #online #decentralization #alcrego #text #essay

[edgeray]

Hi ray

Could write dragon! Arlecchino x hunter! Reader who hunts dragon because she was tasked to even tho she didn't wish to do so but little did the reader know that arlecchino is very strong

So when the reader was tasked she was warned by the villagers but what could the reader do but to only obey the orders when the reader met arlecchino trying to hunt her down she failed to do so

Dragon Hunter Mother

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Like always, if you want to request something from me again anon, give yourself a name/emoji ☺️ Also, I love this idea. I don't plan out my requests, plot just kinda comes as I write, so let's see what I do with this. I'm assuming you also want reader to be afab as well. Since you didn't say about arlecchino having a human form, I'm just not going to write it. Don't ask me how this turned to be over the limit I said these requests were gonna be. I got carried away with world building and plot. Sorry 😬 . Hopefully this was okay? Honestly, didn't know how I would make it romantic, but I guess I'll put it under romantic? I tried by best anon, feel free to request again if you want me to write it in a different way 🫶. Sorry for taking so long, but here it is!  Content warnings / info - author doesn't know how to write dragons, semi-graphic violence, if it wasn't obvious, Freminet, Lyney, and Lynette make an appearance, 2.6k words 

Stemming from a long line of dragon hunters, it was no surprise that like the rest of your siblings, you would take up the mantle of also being a dragon hunter. Dragon hunting is a service to the kingdom exclusive to only a few noble families like yours, hence why its hunters are practically revered by the kingdom's citizens. Protecting the kingdom, receiving glory after every slaughter, earning a large chunk of the kingdom's money, it's no doubt that many aggrandize and covet to be in the same position. 

You've never wanted to be a dragon hunter. It's an arduous job in a kingdom known for its dragon outbreaks. The Majesty is prompt in requesting dragon hunters, sending them from one corner of the kingdom to the other unhesitatingly, and frequently underestimate the duration that these kill orders take. When the process of dragon hunting involves tracking the dragon, finding the dragon's sanctum, preparing to combat against a dragon, and finally, killing it, it takes at least a week if it's one of the older dragons. The Majesty has high expectations, and it's a struggle to keep up with them. Kill orders were often piled on top of one another, which means immediately after you complete one, it is off to finishing the next one.

It is a job of ruin. When was the last time you've gotten more than a few hours of sleep? The last time you've had a full meal? The last time you were able to have a relaxing bath? 

Killing dragons is not how you would like to waste away your life, slaving away under a duty that everyone idolizes. As you carry on your role, you begin to learn more and more about these flying reptiles; dragons are fascinating, intelligent creatures. It is a shame that many villagers are so terrified of them, dragons actively avoid humans; though for one reason or another, dragons occasionally seek the nearest human civilization, eating farm animals and destroying any shelter or barricade that stands in their way. Perhaps you're just foolish, but you believe that there is a real reason for this behavior, and that there could be a solution to this. 

Until then, you could do little more but heed each order, slaughtering dragon by dragon. Their dying cries plague your dreams every night, leaving you empty and restless. 

You arrive at a village, the emblem on your chest plate that indicates your occupation glints as you step out of the carriage. The village head greets you quickly, settling you down in front of a cup of tea and some snacks, before cutting straight to the details.

“This dragon… I'd be careful. I've heard of you, a genius among geniuses in terms of dragon hunting, but I warn you right now. This dragon is different. Smarter, more powerful than your typical one, I bet. Its fire… even among other dragons, isn't comparable. It can torch the whole village, and it got damn near close to. Cunning bastard as well, it can pinpoint where our sheeps are and it can evade our traps. It disappeared from our village a few decades… we assumed it died naturally, but then it returned again earlier this season.”

“When was the last time it attacked? Do you know what kind of dragon it is?”

“No. We’ve never seen a dragon like it before. I'm not sure if it follows under the kingdom's classifications. It's black and white with three pairs of wings! And its tail… sharp like, like…like a scythe, can slice houses in half! Its claws are just as dangerous too. Can breathe fire, of course.”

Three pairs of wings… that means this dragon is considerably old. Dragons gain pairs of wings after their first set through molting, which only occurs every five or four sex following reaching maturity, meaning this dragon was at least a century old. You grimace. Older dragons are always harder to get rid of. Most of the dragons that you encounter only have one pair, on the rare occasion, two. This is the first time you've been assigned a three-paired dragon.

Its colorings are also strange; you've never heard of a black and white dragon specifically. The tail description, however, isn't very uncommon; it could be a signifier that this is an incredibly rare hybrid among dragon species. If it's as powerful as it's said, and if you consider its age, then perhaps they come from one of the Dynasty species… but a descendent of that species hasn't been seen in many years. If this is true, then of course it wouldn't follow under the kingdom's ordinary classifications of dragons. Still, a hybrid? Mating between different species almost never happens. This really was a special case. And its disappearance? You couldn't even fathom why.

“Do you know at least where it lives?”

The village head turns to his right, pointing in that direction. “If you continue that direction, you'll come across a forest. That's where it goes. We don't know where it lives, we've been too scared to try and find out ourselves.”

You sigh. Well, this wasn't much to work with. “Is there anywhere I can stay?” 

“Yes, yes. There's a room above the bar that's just for you. Free of charge, of course. The food as well. Just please… eradicate this beast.” 

“I'll do my best.” 

—

No matter how many forests you go to, you never become fonder of them. Traversing them was always annoying. Too much greenery to walk through, too many streams and rivers to cross, and just too many damn trees. This terrain is especially difficult to find traces of dragons in. It'd be better to make your own traces then scour through the forest to search for them, hence why you're at a stream, catching as much fish as you can with a net. Fish makes for good dragon bait, though you don't intend to use it to trap the dragon. You doubt any trap you could make in the little time you have could kill or harm the dragon, but it will lure the dragon to you.

You pause to take a break, glancing at the pile of fish you've collected. The smell is starting to assault your nostrils. Ugh. 

You hear a crunch behind you, and you turn. Your eyes widen and you pick up your sword, raising them towards the three dragons that surround you. Adrenaline pumps through you as you stand up, observing the creatures. 

All of them only have one-pair of wings, with similar features and size; they’re as large as a full grown bear, if you subtract their tail length, and you realize that they're baby dragons, yet to reach maturity. They have, notably, distinct colorings, but they all share the same black and gray coloring. Perhaps they come from the same hatch? The one to your right has red, almost maroon, splotches over their scales. This one is wide eyed, but its features are relaxed as if playful and curious. The one in the middle seems to be the smallest, fearful as if it’s cowering with its dipped head and the tail wrapping around itself protectively; this one has almost a marigold accent to it. The one to the right is teal, and passive, like it doesn't see you in the slightest. 

Baby dragons are hardly as aggressive or destructive as their adult counterparts, but that doesn't mean they can't pose a danger. Still, you don't want to harm them, not when they haven't done anything that would warrant you to.

The red one approaches, deliberately, sniffing towards your direction. You brace your sword, and it trudges up to you, nostrils grazing against your armor before it nudges against your hand. It then walks past you, its focus deadset on the pile of fish behind you. The two other dragons follow in the red one's lead, and you sigh in relief, placing your sword back in its sheathes.

Baby dragons, three of them especially, are a rare sight, as they're often sheltered in their father's den, and they don't venture out until they've fully matured. This being because they're quite vulnerable despite the threat they hold once they've matured. Eliminating them is a part of your duty, however, you never feel right killing creatures that have just hatched. They couldn't be more than ten years old; they still had a few more decades before they could pose a danger. If they're out like this, it's likely they've been abandoned. Mother dragons often leave their young after childbirth, and the fathers are left to take care of them; it could be that the father died recently. 

Whatever the case, you think that they deserve to live a little longer. Plus, they're kind of cute… 

Although, the more you observe them, the more you feel you should prevent the fish supply you spent all day getting from declining. They seem less cute now. You groan as they eat until there's no more fish, and they turn back to you, croaking as if requesting more. 

What are you, their mother? Your eye twitches in vexation. 

You spend your evening fishing for baby dragons at the river. Un-fucking-believable. Weren't you wonderful at your job? 

You decide to leave the dragons at the river bank as you search for wood to make a campfire. To your slight annoyance and amusement, the young dragons trail behind you. You get random twigs and branches that scatter the forest floor. One of the dragons, the yellow one, picks up a branch in their mouth, before offering it to you. 

Damn it, why did you have to be a dragon hunter? You take the stick in your hand, hesitantly petting the top of its head. This is something you’ve never done before, but you wouldn't mind doing it again. It leans into your hand. You don't deserve this treatment, you hunt their kind. Oh, how you wish you could tell them what you'd have to do once they grow up. Why did you have to be a dragon hunter? You're holding back tears as you continue the petting action. 

Its other siblings, unbeknownst to your existential crisis, follow its behavior, and you've turned the baby dragons into your personal campfire wood carriers. You think dragon trainor fits you better than a dragon hunter at this point, but that profession doesn't grant an affordable life. 

Seating yourself on a tree stump, you build your campfire and light it. You use it to cook a fish over, while you try to fend off said trout from being eaten by the dragons. By the time it's done cooking, the little creatures are exhausated, curling against you as the three fall asleep against your legs and back. You don't want to admit it, but it's a comfortable weight against you. You didn't even know that dragons snore until now.

Peace at last, you think, finally able to eat your fish alone. 

Too soon, too soon. You hear it before you see it, the whipping of winds that you can only associate with the beating of dragon wings as it flies. The sound grows louder, meaning it's heading straight towards you. You stand up, unsheathing your sword and bracing yourself for an assault. Shit, shit, shit, you're not prepared to fight in this territory whatsoever. What was it attracted to? The campfire? The smell of your fish? Or perhaps… you glance at the still sleeping creatures. 

You don't have much time to ponder as the ground shakes when the beast lands in front of you, right on top of the river, its gargantuan form making you tremble. An earth shattering roar escapes its throat, nearly making you tumble back from the sheer force, and your ears ring painfully. 

You've never seen a larger dragon before. You count the pair of wings through squinted eyes. One, two, three. This is the dragon you've been hired to hunt? 

The hand holding your sword doesn't stop shaking, no matter how much you try to control your muscles. The adult dragon nears, and your heart rate pounds louder and louder with each footstep. Black and white colorings? Check. Sharp tail? Check. You know you have to fight it, but how could you possibly? It dwarfs you in every single way possible. 

It swipes its tail at you, and you duck as fast as possible, just barely missing being sliced in half like the trees behind you. Its tail retracts to lunge at you again, and you block the sharp end with your sword, though it just swats you away easily, throwing you across the bank of the river. You land on the gravel with a pained groan, and you scramble to get up, facing the dragon. 

Piercing red-crossed eyes gaze back at you, and you no longer feel like the hunter. Instead, you feel like the prey, and every fiber of your being is telling you to run. You wield your sword again resolutely. If you die, then you die, but you'll die knowing you tried. The dragon tilts its head back, preparing its fiery breath, and you ready your wrist shield. 

Suddenly, a familiar croak comes from behind the adult dragon, and you see the baby dragons rush into the adult dragon, headbutting its feet. The dragon snaps its head back into its normal position, gazing down at the small dragons at its feet. You're afraid that the larger dragon will crush them, but instead it growls. The young ones chirp back, communicating with it. 

You stand there, bewildered, the pieces coming together in your mind quickly. Is the black and white dragon their father? Are they trying to save you? The tension in your shoulders relaxes the slightest bit. The father dragon whips its head back to you, and you freeze, paralyzed under its predatory gaze. Too swiftly does its tail shoot towards you, but instead of impaling you as you prepared, it merely wraps around your midsection, lifting you effortlessly. You drop your sword out of pure shock from being in mid air, and it brings you face to face with the dragon. 

The dragon snarls, baring its teeth, and you think it's the end once you see its pearly whites. Instead, however, it sniffs you, before pausing, observing you more. You're holding your breath, wondering when you will meet your fate. It opens its mouth wide, displaying a row of teeth in its oral cavern. You squeeze your eyes shut but all you feel is something warm, wet, and slimey. A tongue drags across your face, and you cringe, immediately bringing your hands to wipe away the thick saliva. The tail around you loosens, and you fall on your back, grunting from the impact of hitting the floor. 

Okay. Well, you're alive at least, you think, once you get the liquid out of your eyes but it is unfortunately in your hair. If it hasn't killed you yet, then it must mean that it likes you? 

You open your eyes, and see that the dragon lays in front of you, its snout just a feet away from you. Each huff from the dragon blows your hair back with hot air, but you don't mind it. The smaller dragons prance by your side, chirping and croaking with a high-pitched tone. Bemused but just grateful that you've yet met your end, you pet their heads. By the growl from the father, they approve of your action, and your heart melts. You reach out to pet the snout of the larger dragon, and it closes its eyes, further nudging against you before a grumbly purr escapes its throat.

Seems like you've just been forcibly adopted by a family of dragons. You don't think you'll complain that much. 

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fics #genshin impact fic #genshin fanfic #arlecchino #edgeray.requests #edgeray.writes

[riptides-n-roses]

prey - the bloodline (18+)

⛧ pair - the bloodline (roman reigns, jimmy uso, jey uso, solo sikoa) x reader

⛧ warnings - unprotected p in v. primal play, degrading, masturbation, lots of positions, exhibitionism, cre@mpies, oral (m! and f! receiving), crying (from pleasure), obviously minors should not be interacting ♡

⛧ this is also my very first smut so please be patient with me as i didn't have any proof-reading done :(

⛧ the bloodline has been chasing you all night backstage. scared to your wits, you thought you have found somewhere safe to hide, hoping to escape. only to be caught and surrounded by the four men, hungry of whatever they wanted from you.

⛧ word count: 3.7K

Run

Run

Run

The only word circling your head. You were backstage, running as fast as you could to get away from four hungry men, chasing you like fresh meat. The Bloodline has had their eyes on you for a while now. They took notice on how you wrestled against the different female superstars. They have watched your every move. And now, they are hunting you down. But why?

You were so exhausted, barely able to catch yourself and you heard the twins call out for you.

“Mamas, there’s no need to run away!”

“Come on out, darling. You can’t resist us and you know it.”

You ignored their taunts and hid behind several crates, taking your chance to catch yourself. Panting from how much you ran, adrenaline spiked to a level you have never felt before. Noticing a small crack of light through the crates, you slowly made your way to it, peeking out to see if any members of The Bloodline were nearby. Not to your surprise, you see Jey and Solo standing nearby, talking about where they last seen you.

“I could’ve sworn she went that way.” Jey whined. “Do you know where she could be?”

Solo shrugged.

Jey sighed “Keep looking. I’m going to find the Tribal Chief and see what he says.”

That’s when your heart stopped. Roman Reigns. The Tribal Chief. The Head of The Table. He was looking for you as well. He is usually patient when it came to getting what he wanted. He was an enigma when it came to that. It would feel scary to be in front him as he was your predator. If he were to find you, who knows what could’ve happened.

It was a game of chance, where you wouldn’t know what would happen if any of them found you. You quietly let a sigh of relief, after seeing the two figures walk away in separate directions, only to realize you were still hiding. You quickly held your breathe, trying to contain yourself from panicking, planning a way to escape and leave the arena. You slowly got up and left the crates, and started walking until you felt a pair of arms swoop you up.

“Found you, sweet thing.” It was Roman. He set you up on his shoulder and carrying you away from the crates. “Did you seriously think you could escape your Tribal Chief? How adorable.” He cooed.

You felt your heart beat fast. You were caught. You didn’t know what was going to happen to you. You were trembling on his shoulders, unaware as to why he wanted you in the first place. As Roman made his way to the other 3 men while carrying you, he was smiling, finally catching what’s been driving him wild.

“Damn Ro. Looks like you found her” Jimmy chuckled. The four men then went to take you to a car, opening one of the car doors and gently placing you in a seat. You couldn’t speak or do anything. You froze in fear, afraid of what they wanted.

.•°☆.⋆｡⋆☆•˚｡⋆｡˚•☆˚｡⋆.☆•°.⋆

You were brought to a hotel room, placed down on a bed with a blindfold covering your eyes so you couldn’t see what the Bloodline were doing. Your breath hitched feeling four hands gently exploring your body, not knowing that the twins were testing your limits – admiring how your body reacted to their fingers.

“Enjoying yourself, mamas?” Jimmy playfully asked you, feeling his hands grope your breasts. You felt your panties get damp from all the sensations you were feeling in that moment – your legs pathetically trying to close.

“Do you know why we were looking for you all night?” Jey chimed in, slowly making his way to your pants “You drive all of us mad – ever since you came here, you’ve made quite a name for yourself. The way you compete, the way you talk, hell, everything about you makes us hungry.” Your cheeks were warm to this reveal – You were too afraid to even come close to any member of The Bloodline. The way they took down every single opponent that dared to cross them, especially the Tribal Chief. You were craving for at least one member of the faction to fuck you braindead, probably never expected for something like this to happen. You lost your train of thought feeling a pair of lips going up your neck, making their way up to your ear.

“Tell us, Y/N” Jimmy whispered. “Aren’t you hungry for us too?” You gasped feeling him nibble on your ear as Jey began to take off your pants. “You don’t have to be shy.”

You were about to say something before you felt your top and bra come off, shivering from the air hitting your nipples. Jimmy hummed in approval before he started to tug them roughly.

“I…” You started to respond, taking a breath, “I am” The four men chuckle to this reveal.

“In that case, sweet thing.” You hear Roman tease. “Let us have our way with you." After those words were spoken, Roman took a seat, admiring the show as Solo stood beside him, hungrily watches how your body twitches with each gentle touch. Finally, Jey removes your pants to reveal a soaked cunt covered by a pair of panties, eagerly waiting to be used. He kept eye contact with you as he took your underwear off just waiting to see what he’ll do next.

“I think we know how this will go now, darling” Jey finally responded. “Don’t you agree, uce?” looking at his twin brother. “Oh certainly.” Jimmy added “Here, mamas spread your legs and relax.”

You spread your legs wide, allowing Jey to get a better view of your glistening cunt as he begins to hold your legs apart. “You look so delicious; I wonder what you taste like.” Jey growled. As you opened your mouth, you felt his warm tongue slide up and down your clit, not breaking eye contact watching as you melt in front of all four men while blindfolded only seeing pitch black. Jimmy began playing with your hard, sensitive nipples as he started to leave steamy kisses all over your neck. You whined from the sensations you were feeling, the steamy kisses, rough hands groping you, a warm tongue playing with your clit, sliding up and down. Roman smirked seeing you moan and whine, begging for more, feeling his bulge throb through his pants, trying his best to not pounce and do whatever he pleased to you.

“F-fuck!” You sobbed, shaking from Jey’s tongue going in and out of your pussy, your breast being played with and kisses being left all over. You felt like you were going to explode, feeling your stomach tighten from the sensations. “Please…”

“You’re going to cum, baby?” Jey teased as he stopped licking your pussy, allowing his fingers to circle your clit. “Come on, make a mess all over yourself. We want to see it.” You couldn’t take it anymore, “I-I need to- “

Before you could finish, your face was turned and you felt Jimmy kissing you roughly, muffling your moans and cries as Jey removes his fingers and plunges his tongue deep in your pussy again, Jimmy squeezing your tits hard and rough as he continues kissing you. As you finally hit your orgasm, you whined into Jimmy’s mouth, cumming all over Jey’s face, your legs trying to close. You could hear Roman chuckle as he watched you ride out your orgasm, Jimmy finally letting your mouth rest, a trail of spit following as well.

With a nod of approval from Roman, finally Jimmy took the blindfold off you – allowing you to see everything surrounding you as your clit throbbed for more attention.

“Ready for more, baby?” Jey asked you, taking his shorts off to reveal his hard cock. Your eyes widened, thinking to yourself how you’ll take it, or how it’ll fit in you. “Now now, mamas. Don’t forget about me either.” You turned your head to see Jimmy without his pants and boxers as well, your cheeks becoming warm. “Now turn over. Jey is going to fuck you while you suck me off.” You turn around to face Jimmy and position yourself on all fours. Making sure your pussy was exposed in front of Jey, you gasped feeling Jey position himself, slapping his tip onto your clit. “Easy doll.”

You cried out feeling Jey push himself into you, your clit throbbing from sensation. It was thick and a little painful, small tear forming in your eyes.

“Aww. Is Jey too much for you mamas? Here.” Jimmy teased, slapping his dick on your face before pushing it in your mouth. You began to adjust to Jey’s size, muffled moans escaping you while you began to bop your head up and down on Jimmy’s length. Jey starts to thrust slowly into you, making sure that you’re not in any pain. His thrusts began to slowly speed up, making your walls clench. Both twins groaning from how good you feel – Jimmy making you take every inch of him in your mouth, his hands grabbing your hair tight and pushing you down further, making you gag a bit. “Fuck, mamas.” Jimmy growled “Your mouth feels amazing.”

Jey chuckled giving you a hard slap across your ass, as his hips buck up with yours, “You like how I fuck your pretty cunt, baby? Do you want some more?” Your sounds were a mix of moaning and trying to grasp for air from how tightly Jimmy was using your hair as handle bars. God, you felt so full, finally getting what you craved for. Finally, being stuffed in a way you haven’t felt before. Both twins’ thrusts get harder and faster, making your stomach tighten again – slowly reaching your second orgasm of the night.

Your muffled moans were driving Roman crazy, waiting impatiently to fuck your brains out. Solo, who knows he’s next, has been watching how your body reacted to each thrust in your pussy and mouth – feeling his bulge get harder and harder with your soft cries and moans.

“Are you ready, baby? I’m going to cum soon – I’m going to fill your tight pussy with my cum.” Jey groaned, feeling his cock throb inside of you. “Me too, mamas? Are you ready for me to fill your mouth while you cum too?” Jimmy chuckled. You looked up to the eldest twin, nodding quickly with blurry eyes, feeling your stomach tighten. “Good girl”

With Jey picking up his pace, thrusting disgustingly faster, you whined feeling your stomach tighten even more, like a jack in the box.

“Get ready, doll”

You finally reached your orgasm, your muffled screams tighten your pussy as Jey thrusted one more time, - making his seed explode deep in you. Jimmy pushes your face down, his cum going to the back of your throat, growling as all three of you ride out an orgasm. Jimmy slowly pulls his cock out of your mouth, allowing your lungs air while Jey slowly pulls out of you, your pussy leaking with his cum and throbbing from the roughness. Your entire body shaking from how hard you came this time. Jimmy gently lifts your face up with his finger, giving you hot kisses all over your lips “That was amazing, mamas. You did so so well. Now it’s Solo’s turn – Be good okay?” You nodded as he gotten up, pulling his pants back up and giving you another kiss.

Jey gives you a gentle slap on the ass again, as he also gets up and puts his pants back on. “I’m so proud of you, doll.” He turns your face to meet his and gives you a sweet little kiss before he leaves with his twin out of the room.

Your breaths were hoarse, your abused throat made it hard for you to get more air. You looked and see Solo and Roman look at you with full amusement. Roman gives a gesture to Solo, allowing him to have his turn playing with you.

As Solo gotten closer to you, he gets his pants off, his dick poking through his boxers. Your brain still foggy from your previous orgasm, you look into his eyes with pure lust – You can’t wait for what he wanted to do to you.

“Ready for more, princess?” he asked, his hand reaching down to your clit, sliding his finger up and down. You whine from how sensitive your cunt was – you could already feel how wet you were getting again. “Answer me.”

“Ye…Yes.” You replied, wanting Solo to abuse your holes. He smiled and puts his tongue into yours, having a hot and steamy kiss session – Feeling his fingers play with your clit a little faster. He was amused with the way you whine and cry for his fingers to go inside your walls - still throbbing from Jey. “Good. Now lay on your back.” He chuckled removing his fingers from your sensitive hole. You were getting impatient, laying on your back against the soft pillows, spreading your legs. Solo’s eyes were full of hunger and lust for you as he removed his shorts. Your clit throbbed from the sight of his hard, thick cock – just ready for him to make you cum again. Solo positioned himself, slapping himself on your cunt, trying his best not to push himself all the way in you.

Without warning, he slowly pushes himself into you, growling from how wet you were, your whines making your walls tighten – He was incredibly thick. You felt like his cock would poke through your stomach. He gently grabs your throat, squeezing a bit as he thrusts into you, your choked cries making him go harder. “Fuck, princess. You’re taking me so well.” His praises make you look into his eyes begging for him to go faster.

“Y-You’re so big! I’ll cum too fast” You moaned, loving how rough he was thrusting into you – forgetting that Roman was next, you felt your stomach tighten scared of what he’ll do to you. As Solo pushed in and out of you, he burrowed his face onto one of your tits, roughly sucking your nipple as his grip gotten a little tighter on your neck.

“You’re gonna cum again, Princess? I know you want to.” Solo groaned, knowing he was getting close from being rough with you, lifting his face away from your tits and seeing your eyes roll back. You were trying to make sentences but your stomach kept getting tighter. This was exactly what you wanted. “I’m trying not to cum too fast. You’re so tight and needy. You’re doing so good.” He released his grip on your neck and intertwined his fingers with yours, your other hand touching his face.

“I.. I need to cum!” You sobbed, small tears forming from how rough Solo’s thrusts were – his fat cock continuously hitting your sensitive spots. “Yeah? You wanna cum? Cum with me, princess. I got you.” He teased as his thrusts get sloppy – knowing he was holding back from releasing his cum in you.

You let out a high-pitched scream, as you came all over Solo’s cock, one last thrust before his seed burst in you, your vision only seeing white. You knew exactly what was about to happen next. After riding out your orgasm, Solo pulled out of you and leaned in to kiss you deeply, his fingers playing with your hair. “Fuck, princess…You drained me. Let me fix you up.” He gently lifted you up, making sure you weren’t hurt or anything before he kissed you again. Your eyes turned to see a sexually frustrated Roman, sitting in his chair, looking directly at you. You knew he was going to be the roughest with you. Solo then got up, putting his pants, and fixing himself back up.

After he left, you slowly turned to Roman. The Samoan man cocked his head to the side, admiring how your breath hitched from how many rounds of sex. Your pussy still throbbing and leaking cum. He enjoyed seeing how your face looked, hungry for whatever he wanted to do to you. Your stomach dropped when Roman finally got up from his chair making his way toward you.

“Come here.” He motioned for you to get closer on the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, you crawled up to him, your eyes looking into his. He smiled, admiring how exhausted you looked, your hair all messy. “Look at you, still horny after two rounds. You’re a dirty slut, aren’t you?” his words with a sexual undertone. Your cheeks were warm to his degrading. His rough hands exploring your body as you shivered from his touch. You wondered what he might do to you. Noticing his large bulge on his pants, you slowly reached for it. He took noticed and chuckled. “Go ahead, babygirl.”

With his approval, you slowly pulled down his pants, revealing his huge, veiny cock. Your mouth watered from the sight in front of you. You stuck your tongue out and gave soft kitty licks to his tip, he grabbed a handful of your hair and pushed your head further down his shaft. You gagged from how big he was, your pussy throbbing for some attention. While sucking him off, your fingers made its way to your clit, making small circles around your pearl – a wave of goosebumps hitting your back. Your muffled moans and grasps for air turned him on. He was amused to how tiny you looked under him.

“That’s right, baby. Take every inch of my cock.” Roman muttered, admiring the way you kept your eyes on him while your lips were around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter to his words, your throat being abused over and over. His praises made you throb with impatience, just begging for him to be inside of you.

His grip tightening around your hair and pushing your head down even more, making you gag from his thick length.

You felt so unclean – rubbing circles on your clit, desperate to slip a finger in your walls, sucking every inch of him and not breaking eye contact. You wanted to please him. Your cheeks were warm as he thrusted in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat. Your gags made him want to force his seed down your throat. But he had another idea. What seemed like an eternity, he ripped his cock out of your mouth.

You choked, pouting that he didn’t fill your mouth with his seed. Roman placed his grip on your throat – he loved seeing you beg for his attention, beg for him to use you the way he wanted. “Impatient, are we?” He mocked how you wanted more with a flirtatious tone. You wouldn’t dare to speak.

He chuckled and in that second, he swiftly picking you up, taking a seat on the bed, and set you down on his lap, aligning his cock to your pussy – You gasped feeling his tip slowly stuffing you, adjusting yourself before he pushed his whole length into you. “Oh fuck..” You cried, wrapping your arms around him as he stretched you out, “I know, babygirl.” His words made you clench – making you fight the urge to cum right there on the spot.

His hand placed on your hip, the other grabbing your ass cheek as he began to thrust in you, deep, slow strokes to let you adjust to his size. You tightened your arms around him, holding him tightly as waves of pleasure hit your body. His gaze on your face – he loved how your faces looked while he stuffed you of him, your mouth open with your tongue out. Your breasts jiggling from each bounce on his cock. He loved how you melted for him – how you craved for him.

“You’re so cute like this, baby. The way you melt from how I fuck you. Is that what you’ve wanted for sometime now? Come on. Tell me how bad you wanted this.” His words muffled from your chest. Your breath was shaky, moaning from how he hit your spot everytime he thrusted into you.

“So bad…” You whined. Wanting him to go faster, You could feel your orgasm coming soon.

“Good girl. For now on, you’re going to be my little toy. Only I can touch you and fuck you like this. Understood?” He ordered, tightening his grip around you and thrusting faster.

“Ye-Yes Ro-“

“Yes what, baby. Say it correctly.”

“Yes…D-Daddy..”

“Good girl.”

You throw your head back, not realizing that you signed yourself with him, to be his to use, to make others aware that you belong to him. But you didn’t care. You craved for him to use you like this, for him to hunt you down like this, to be his prey. Your stomach started to tighten as he lifted his head up and kissed your roughly – the sensations you were feeling in this moment made you not want it to stop. You wanted him to keep fucking you like this, you wanted him to make it known to everyone that you’re only his.

“You feel so good, babygirl. You’re taking me so well.”

His praises made you whimper, getting desperate to cum all over his cock. Swiftly, He laid back making his cock stuff you further.

You sobbed into the crook of his neck as his thrusts get faster and sloppier, knowing he was going to cum soon. He felt so good inside of you, you were begging for him to cum in you. You whined when you felt him deliver a harsh slap on your ass and gripping it tightly. You dug your nails into him from how rough he was with you.

“Daddy’s got you, babygirl. Fuck you feel so good.” He growled, knowing he was getting close too. You felt yourself getting closer.

“I-I need to cum! Please, daddy. I need to- “You moaned, your legs beginning to shake. “I know, babygirl.” He growled, admiring the way you were holding back.

You screamed as you came undone on him, your eyes rolling back from the sensation, Roman following behind as he held you tightly as he came, emptying his seed inside of you. His dark chocolate eyes staring into your face – his lips quick to meet with yours and leaving hot kisses all over your face.

“Holy shit…” He groaned, keeping his cock in you as you rode out your orgasm. You and Roman were breathing heavily from the intense round of sex. Your eyes never leaving his before he kissed you again.

“You’re mine now.”

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[totothewolff]

The Big Slip

+18 | one shot | Toto x reader | romance, smut, drama, pinning.

Summary: Your life as a struggling arts graduate in Monaco, coming from a working-class family who lives on the outskirts, is about to change. Toto Wolff enters your life not only by giving you the best sex ever but also by making you love somebody for the first time. Arranged marriages, a horrible breakup, and an induced coma, plus his terrible parents, were a complete surprise. Author's note: Get ready for a ride!

More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist

Toto hasn't been to his parents for a couple of years.

His relationship with them has gotten, how do you say it politely? Problematic?

The older and more independent he got, the more he noticed the enormous pressure they had inflicted on him from a young age.

Being the firstborn in a blue-blooded, deep-pocketed family, carrying the Wolff last name put an immense weight on his shoulders.

He has to be the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect gentleman, the perfect businessman, the perfect big brother, the perfect heir.

"There's a lot on stake, Torger, not only millions," his father tells him at his massive and fancy in-home office. "You can't lose focus, this," he gestures with his finger around in a circular movement. "It will be all yours one day, and that," he points to a big and beautiful architectural model designed by Foster + Partners of their new offices and latest and more giant factory laying on the large meeting table made of expensive agarwood. "Will be yours to lead".

His dad isn't a common one. Every time Toto got called into his office, he felt nervous and timid, something that never changed over the years.

His dad is a businessman first and a father second.

"Every choice you make matters, son. One day, you will become head of this family, an ambassador for our last name. Make us proud," he says, pouring himself and Toto a drink into a beautiful set of glasses. "Let's toast to that, to your future legacy."

He clinks his glass with Toto's.

-

Being the heir of the owners of the "Silver Wolff Mercedes F1 Racing Team" and "Wolff & Co." was supposed to be fun.

Being a part of that accelerated, fast-paced world full of excess, wealth, luxury, and stunning seductive women, a land with no limits.

Yet it wasn't. It was a golden cage that people would give everything to get locked into, but it was still a cage.

-

"I'm moving to Monaco after graduation," Toto tells his father, again in his office, but years later, with all the courage he gained, he feels ready to break the bars in his cage.

His parents sent him to study university at the LSE (London School of Economics), giving him a spoonful taste of freedom.

But he barely partied and slept around. He needed to be the perfect student, the top of the class, the ideal college kid his parents could show off in social gatherings.

"Monaco?" the expression on his father's face is priceless.

"Yes. Water motorsports are on the rise. You know how much I love water! I could develop a racing team there, create a new branch for Silver Wolff, and enter the yacht market for Wolff & Co., handling it by myself."

"Before you return to your duty, the real one, this company, to Silver Wolff Mercedes. It will serve you as a pilot. Think of it as a five-year project."

"Yes, sir."

"Good," his father hugs him and kisses him on the cheek.

Toto feels proud of himself as he heads out of that office.

"Torger?" he turns around at his father, calling his name. "Don't lose focus."

-

What can you expect when you give total freedom to someone who hasn't tasted it before?

Parties, excess, women, all kinds and types of sex, alcohol, weed, everything, what he wanted, he had, he satiated all his appetites.

But at the end of the day, of the rush, he was alone.

Completely alone, with no real or deep relationship with somebody.

Toto built his life based on a "this is just a one-time thing only, a just-for-the-moment" philosophy, knowing that everything in his current life was temporary and that he wasn't the actual owner of his life choices.

He is not interested in building new friendships or having a girlfriend.

His real friends were his childhood friends, the kids of wealthy, upper-social-ranking families his parents approved of and hung out with.

They were the ones who got him, who knew what he was going through. And Obasi, his only real friend from college, Toto loved Obi.

Being the heir of a build-from-scratch empire of a Nigerian-rooted family that escaped the dictatorship, made it to England, and became incredibly successful was a burden more challenging than his.

Obi's parents expected him to make no mistakes, a margin of zero, and they had for him higher than the sky expectations.

-

The night is fully set in Monaco, and your boss gallery's lights illuminate the sidewalk as the prestigious Galerie d'Art 3816 is holding an exhibition.

Located on the famous Boulevard de la Croisette, it's buzzing as art lovers and collectors gather for the exclusive opening of "Lumière," a small but exquisite collection featuring an array of stunning paintings.

You worked your ass off to earn a spot and get featured, showcasing tonight two pieces as part of that exhibition, earning a well-deserved place.

With luck, a sponsor may see your work or art buyers will acquire them.

As guests enter the gallery, your boss greets them warmly and offers glasses of champagne.

The large room has white walls and a luxurious, polished grey marble floor. It's well-lit, and soft music plays in the background, creating an intimate atmosphere perfect for appreciating the displayed pieces.

-

As the evening goes on, champagne and canapés travel around while conversations flow freely.

At the same time, you attend the people interested in your paintings while some of your work colleagues sell and promote their own in their places.

Then your world spins around as you notice the tall guy, at least 6'2", whose presence seems to fill the room. He is looking over the artworks on display one by one, his eyes lingering on each piece with an air of discernment.

His dark hair is styled perfectly, with a hint of messy charm, and the lighting in the gallery accentuates his sharp features.

The Greeks seemed to have carved his chiseled features, perfectly sharp jawline, and strong facial structure.

His suit, tailored to perfection, fit his broad shoulders and athletic build like a glove.

You can't help but feel a flutter in your chest as he moves towards you, his long strides eating up the distance between you.

"Oh! Mr. Wo-" Your boss greets him. She approaches him in a rush, distracted by the other guests, not noticing when he entered.

"Mr. Bednarczyk, I'm Christian. It's nice to meet you," Toto lies to you, introducing himself, much to your boss's surprise, and cutting her off.

She plays along while he offers you a handshake and adds, "Mr. Bednarczyk, we are glad you joined us." she says.

"That's unique," he points out, looking at the art in your painting, admiring every detail. Your boss takes this as a signal for her to leave you discuss.

Not before whispering to Toto's ear discreetly, "Christian Bednarczyk? Toto, what!?"

"Middle name and mom's maiden name. I don't want all the attention the Torger Wolff name drags around here."

He is right.

People in Monaco may not know what the Wolffs look like, but they have heard their last name and know what type of family they are.

What should have been a five-minute conversation between Toto and you lasted almost an hour. You told him all about the meaning behind the painting, the techniques you used, your creative process, and more, feeling an instant connection with him.

A couple of other guests gather around to listen. In the end, a French businesswoman buys it.

"Happy for how it went?" Toto asks you.

"Yes! I sold the two paintings I got allowed to exhibit!" you answer as you do a little dance for him.

He looks a few years older than you but seems full of youth and energy.

"So, now, can I buy you a drink?" he flirts with you.

"Yes, please." you feel your knees shaking.

-

Accepting his invitation to get some drinks results in a night of passion.

Toto's lips and teeth clash against yours, his tongue demanding entry. You part them, letting his tongue swirl around yours.

His hands roam your body, feeling your curves, then he squeezes your ass, pulling you closer to him.

You can feel his hardness pressed against you, and you reach for it; he groans, deep and guttural, his breath hot on your neck as he picks you up and carries you to the bed in a hotel room.

He lays you down gently, his hands cupping your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples through the light fabric of your dress.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," he mutters, his voice full of desire. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch.

You are desperate for more, desperate for him. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, your body responding to his touches.

Toto's fingers work fast, pulling out your dress and exposing your undies before getting them out of the way. He groans as he takes in the sight of you naked, his eyes dark with lust.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he whispers.

He leans down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You gasp as he teases it with his tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

"You're so fucking wet," he says, his hands now exploring your slick folds.

You whimper as he circles your clit with his fingers, "I want to taste you," he states, his voice low.

You nod eagerly, unable to speak. Toto wastes no time.

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and dives between your thighs. His tongue is warm and wet, tracing a path up and down your slit.

You moan as he explors with his mouth, parting your folds, his breath warm against your clit.

You bite your lip as he flicks his tongue against it. The sensation is intense and immediate. Your hips buck as Toto sucks it.

"Oh my god," you moan, digging your nails in the sheets beneath you. You are so close already, your body coiling with need.

Toto's fingers slide inside you, and you moan even louder. He presses against your G-spot, and you feel an orgasm rising inside of you.

And then, just as you are about to explode, Toto pulls away. You let out a whimper of protest as you feel your orgasm fade away into nothingness.

But Toto isn't done with you yet. Not by a long shot.

"You taste so fucking good," he moans as he crawls up your body, pressing his hard cock against you. "Do you want me inside of you?"

"Yes!" you answer while moaning as you feel his tip brush against your entrance. He is teasing you, and you love it.

You want him inside of you so badly it hurts. He pushes against you, inch by inch, until you are stretched around him, finally joined.

The feeling of his hard length filling you is indescribable, and you let out a gasp of pure ecstasy.

Toto thrust into you, his hips moving in rhythm. Each stroke brings a new burst of pleasure that almost brings you to your knees.

You grab onto his biceps to stay grounded.

Your moans become louder, more primal as he pounds you, sensing the pulse of his cock deep within you.

"Goddammit, Toto. Yes... yes..." you let out, your breaths becoming shallow gasps. Your muscles tremble with exertion, and sweat drips down your forehead.

You close your eyes, lost in the sensory overload, as he continues to thrust deep into you.

Your breasts are bouncing with each impact, and your heart is on the verge of exploding.

You are nearing the end but want to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. Savor every moment of this encounter.

"Tell me how it feels," Toto demands, his voice a whisper. "Good god, you're so tight, so fucking perfect." Toto murmurs, continuing to pump hard into you.

You let out tiny cries, knowing that you are close to cumming. "Goddamn, you feel so good inside me. Your body is pure perfection," you moan.

He shifts positions, his body dominating yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist. His hands hold your hips, pulling you closer. He kisses you passionately as his pace quickens, your bodies moving faster.

You can hear the wet sound of skin slapping together with each hard thrust. Your body quivers in delight, feeling his strong hands grip your hips tight.

The way Toto moves inside you is delicious. He moves deep, giving you long, slow strokes as he continues to kiss you passionately.

"I want to hear it all, every dirty little thought that goes through your mind. I want to feel you clench around my cock when you get what you want."

His words send a thrill down your spine, igniting a fire. You rock your hips harder against him as he continues to thrust, his movements becoming more urgent, more frantic.

"Oh, fuck yes. Yes, Toto. I want you to claim me, to make me yours. I want to feel every inch of your thick cock stretching me open."

"Fuck, Y/N. That's what I like to hear."

"God, yes!" you cry as he hits the right spot.

"Tell me you want it," his voice raw. "Tell me you want me to make you cum."

You look into his eyes, seeing the desire and urgency reflected there, his fingers digging into your hips.

"Make me cum, baby," you stammer; you are so close.

Toto's expression changes at your words, and he looks more determined than ever to make you finish.

With a low growl, he increases his pace, his hips snapping against yours with animal urgency, taking your breath away.

Your hands go to Toto's ripped abs; you can feel his muscles flexing as he drives into you with fierce movements.

"God, yes," you pant, trying to hold on as best you can.

Toto's hips are a blur, his body moving with intensity you have never experienced before. Your hands tighten on his shoulders, your sweat-slick bodies slamming together.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum," you cry, your voice hoarse with pleasure. The orgasm is building.

Your whole body is trembling, and you can feel every inch of you tingling with anticipation. You sink your teeth into Toto's shoulder as he continues to pound into you.

"Yes, yes, YES!" you cry out, surrendering to the pleasure, giving yourself completely to him. The orgasm hits you suddenly, and you feel your body convulse, releasing.

You hear yourself yelling out his name as Toto keeps thrusting, mercifully prolonging your orgasm. His hips continue to snap into you as a guttural moan tears from his throat as he comes too.

-

"It was spectacular," you say, the following day sharing breakfast, looking at him with adoring eyes. Oh, the things he did to you were just wow.

"I totally agree." he gives you a cheeky smile.

"You seeing someone? Maybe we could..."

"Sorry, I can't. This was a one-time thing, sadly. I'm not looking for that, but I can give you my number if you want to be friends." Toto explains, looking at the dismay on your face.

"Sounds good, better than wiping you off from existence!" you chuckle.

-

And you become friends!

You text each other daily and hang around whenever possible.

Who were you kidding?! FRIENDS?!

You are utterly into that man. And he seems also into you.

-

"Well, that was a complete failure." You sigh as you close the gallery.

Only eight people showed up to your exhibit, and you did not sell a single piece.

Toto is carrying your stuff around in a box. You two cross the street and grab a seat on the pier, which overlooks the harbor and the sea.

"You okay?" He bumps your arm with his, looking at your sad eyes.

"I want to make my parents feel proud of me. I know they haven't asked me for that. They only want me to be happy! But I know the effort they made to put me through college, and you know, I want to be successful so I can help them out so they don't have to work that hard anymore. They aren't that young," you answer.

Toto looks fondly at you and catches the single tear sliding down your cheek with his thumb finger before caressing your face tenderly.

"You are a good daughter. Even if your parents haven't asked you for anything, you feel a need to deliver. It will come! Don't get impatient! No one starts with instant success. Usually, there are a couple of years of struggle before it. Focus on what lies ahead."

"Why are you so smart?!" he smiles shyly at your question, his cheeks blushing. "Can I kiss you?" you come closer to his lips. "I know you told me we'd be friends only, but can we be of those friends who kiss each other?"

He laughs softly before claiming your lips in a soft, passionate. "I don't think those friends exist. I don't think those are called friends." Toto replies.

You laugh. "Damn, you got me!" and after a couple of minutes, you dare to ask. "What is it about me that doesn't convince you?"

"It's not, listen, ahem..."

"I'm single and have a boyfriend job position open right now. There is no need for an interview for you, in case you are interested," you invite him shyly, asking him to please date you.

To which Toto blushes and looks down at the floor.

There's a silence break in which you slowly take distance from him, returning to where you were sitting before kissing him.

"Can I change your mind?" you ask softly at his lack of reply, which sounds more like a plea.

He turns to look at you but doesn't say yes, which hurts you. He can see it in your watery eyes.

"It's getting late. So I bett-"

"Don't leave, please." He sounds earnest.

"Chris, I'm not sure I can only be your friend with these dumb feelings I have for you. I don't know how to be around you without wanting to be with you. I'm sorry."

"This amazing idea you made of me may be wrong. I'm not that ..."

"You are kind and fun. I love those dumb reaction faces you do," a small smile forms on your lips. "You are very gentlemanly, holding the doors open for me and standing up when I arrive. I have never seen that one before! Also, holding my hand on stairs and carrying my stuff around, you make me feel so special."

"Every time we talk, it feels meaningful. Gosh, I love sharing life with you. You are so full of great advice, you know?" you continue.

No one had shown Toto such earnest affection before, not so openly.

"I can be your life coach if you have that job offer available," Toto says. You can feel his eyes piercing your skin. He is looking at you with such intensity.

"I don't know. You, you feel too meaningful, this," you gesture with your finger between you, "Feels special. And let's not talk about all of this going on here," you move your hand, gesturing to Toto's face and body. "All this tallness hotness stuff you got going and under gets even better," you quickly add, every word speaking faster. "Those things you did to me the other night, Jesus! We could, you know, repeat it sometime or many."

A huge smile forms on his lips before he relaxes again, watching you joke around.

"I really gotta leave, tho," you say.

"Can I at least drive you home?" his voice sounds slightly off.

"Oh, hey, no worries, it is far. That's some gas you are going to spend. I can grab the transp-"

"Please"

"I live on the outskirts. Do you know where that is?"

His father's best friend developed the units in those buildings. Of course, he knows where it is! "Yes, I have an idea, but you can guide us there."

"You sure?"

"Hundred percent"

-

It's a quiet ride at first.

"Gaga, really?"

"What?" he looks at you for a brief second before returning his eyes to the road.

"Are you a pop girlie?! That's... you know."

He starts laughing at your reaction, judging his music taste. "Unexpected?"

"Give me." You grab his phone from the car's cup holder on the central console.

"Password?" you ask.

"041123"

"Does it have a meaning?"

"It's a birthday."

"From who?"

"A girl"

"Oh," your mild jealousy showing.

"My sister's, not... there's no one else, so you know."

There's silence for a bit. So, you keep searching on Spotify for a song you like.

"Then, why not? If there's no one else in your life," you ask before thinking, shit! It would be best to stop pushing him, but you can't.

He gives you no answer again, and things start to feel awkward for a few streets while Arctic Monkeys play in the back. The streets of Monaco never look more attractive.

"Do you have or had someone?" he asks, trying to regain your attention.

"I had a boyfriend for years. He was my neighbor, and he still is, sort of, he moved a couple of buildings away. Let's say he forgot he was my boyfriend before having a new girlfriend. That's a cool photo on your locked screen! I have never skied, and those snow outfits always look so cool. Turn left here and go all the way there. Oh, you went the other way, ahem."

"You said left; this is left," Toto informs you, side-eying you.

"Oh!" you smile at him. "It was to the right, then." You make a funny oopsie face.

You open the Apple Maps app and pin your address before passing him the phone at a red light.

"Okay, got it now." Toto gives you his phone back.

"Have I told you when I got "lost" downtown? My parents went crazy! It turns out I never left the street; I just went right thinking it was left."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh yeah, get comfy on your seat, Chris. The wackiest shit always happens to me," you tell Toto before sharing that memory with him.

-

When you finally arrive in your neighborhood, it takes you forever to get to your home because you keep telling him anecdotes and memories of things that happened to you in various spots.

Toto slows down the car, amused and more than engaged in the conversation.

"And on that sloping street we used to bike down! Oh, and on Charlotte's birthday - a girl that used to live in that house - we went to slide down there during her party celebrated in their front garden, and I hit the sidewalk and flew to the grass next to it. My dress got all green in the belly and chest, and I flashed the entire party with my Hello Kitty panties before my mom rushed to see if I was okay and pulled down my dress; well, at least the guests got to know me!" you two laugh heartfully. "And that's me." You point to a building.

Suddenly, your eyebrows frown, and a concerned look fills your face.

"You good?!" Toto asks you, worried.

"Why is my dad in PJs out in the street?!"

A man wearing no shirt, belly on full display, not a fit body at all, and blue pajama pants bottoms wearing sandals was in a rush walking around the street, looking for something.

Toto parks the car, and you get out of it quickly. He follows you.

On your way to your dad, you find your mom, also wearing pajamas, crying in the building's entry hallway.

You instantly hug her.

"I left the door open a second!, just to get the Amazon package inside! And "Chico" went off, he ran so fast down the stairs, we didn't find him anywhere! It's my fault!"

You comfort her before getting all emotional and scared for Chico's well-being. Your dog flew from the house; he is tiny, old, and almost blind, which is not good.

-

After one hour of searching, your family, Toto, and some neighbors still haven't found Chico.

You turn around, all desperate, and bury yourself in Toto's chest, weeping, where he wraps you in his arms.

"Let's keep looking. Chico must be near."

"What if he got run over?"

"Shh, don't think of that." Toto kisses your head and soothes you. "We will find him, okay?" He bends a bit to rub his nose against yours softly.

Your parents witness it all.

-

Around two hours later, Toto goes exploring further away from the park again. This time, he hears muffled dog cries in the distance, so he follows the sound to find Chico under some bushes in a neighbor's open yard.

His little leg got stuck between the big branches, so Toto rushes to get him out and leave before he gets in trouble.

He returns to your building with Chico in his arms, who looks even smaller in those muscular arms and is all dirty.

Your mom and you run to Toto and pat Chico before hugging the Austrian from both sides.

"Our girls' hero!" your dad approaches you all and tells him. "Chico, don't scare us like that! Okay, let's go. I buy the beers. We still can catch some of the game." He pats Toto's arm, assuming he is your boyfriend.

"Let me see what I can make for dinner." your mom tells you.

"Go ahead," you ask them, wanting to have a time alone with Toto.

"Please, give me a chance. I promise you won't regret me," you beg him.

He nods.

Toto can't keep ignoring his feelings for you, which is reckless, before you two kiss while leaning on Toto's black Mercedes car - the one he told you he got lucky to inherit from his late godfather - and while holding hands.

"Honey?!" your mom calls you from the window on the second floor. Your apartment faces the street and a small grass patch. "Can you go get some cheese?"

-

This relationship feels like a dream; it's healthy, romantic, and spicy.

There are weeks you can't keep your hands off each other or your clothes on.

Everything is soft and tender, helping and supporting each other throughout the days.

You talk a lot, but he is pretty reserved. You respect that and hope that time and love will change that. You want him to feel secure and loved enough to open up.

-

Toto chooses to stay longer after his sister's baby's christening mass in Austria and the party at their parent's state. He loves his young sister more than anything in life.

He wanted to spend some time with her and her kids, but as soon as they left, he remembered why he had stayed away.

The next day, at the garden breakfast table, his mom surprises him with a topic: "Torger, my dear, your father and I are worried. It's been almost seven years since you left for Monaco, two more years that agreed."

"We need you around, son. I'm afraid you are falling behind on how to handle the business only with your brief appearances with the team and at the factory," his father adds.

"I have known how the business works perfectly since I was a child; that is all you taught me. Haven't I succeeded with the new assets I created?"

"Yes. Monaco has been a total success. But you made a promise, and a Wolff keeps them. Your duty is with Silver Wolff Mercedes and this family. Man up to it." his dad gives him the ultimatum.

"I know that, believe me. But fine, I will prepare everything for my return."

"When?" his father asks, growing impatient at the lack of control he is having on his son.

"By the end of this year. It's enough time to handle our water racing team to another team principal."

"Perfect," his dad looks pleased.

"There's also another subject we would like to discuss," his mom has the word again.

Okay, this one is unexpected.

"We can't keep avoiding the fact that you have reached an age to settle down with no proper prospects. We think we could help you with that departm-"

"Hold your horses there." Toto steps in.

"Did you just interrupt your mother? Your manners also stayed in Monaco?" he looks at him sternly.

His dad has this really angry-looking resting face, but he is actually quite easygoing and even goofy sometimes.

"Sorry, continue"

"Most of your friends got married last year, your cousins are all fathers now, and even your baby sister has welcomed her second child. It's time for you, too. The daughter of my friend Anya is a perfect and stunning fit. She has always liked you."

"I can get girls on my own, Mom, thank you."

"Yes, of course you can! You are smart, successful, handsome, fit, and wealthy. What's not to like?!" His mom gives him a look.

"Then, the problem is?"

"That finding the fit for you is not that easy. You need a girl that matches everything listed before to be even."

God! Toto had forgotten how old school his parents were.

"We are arranging that for you," his dad informs him.

"Are you like for real?! Arranging?" Toto's expression is priceless.

"Why are you articulating like that?" his dad looks at him, not in a good mood anymore.

"Like a commoner!" his mom adds.

Toto chuckles but does not answer.

"Well, it's not like your father and I precisely met on a cruise, didn't we? Our parents arranged it, yet we formed a successful marriage with wonderful children."

"Understood." Toto plays along with it, not feeling like fighting it. They were sort of right.

-

You go to a fancy restaurant for your one-year anniversary. Toto never lets you pay for anything, and you tell him several times it isn't necessary.

Monaco is expensive for the working class, and you know the struggle. You don't want him to feel that type of pressure on him.

You know he works as a coach on an aquatic racing team in town, which is not a high-salary job precisely.

But he insists, and any hint of you putting a fight tonight goes away the moment he picks you up wearing that fancy suit, looking unbelievably handsome.

You are left speechless, and he closes your mouth with a finger on your chin.

"Wow," he whispers to you while he looks you up. You are wearing a fancy, tight blue dress, all glam up. "I'm so lucky."

-

During dinner, an "I love you" scapes your lips.

Toto gets saved by the bell in the form of a marriage proposal happening in the following table.

You two clap for the couple like the rest of the people at the tables surrounding them when she says yes.

When Toto turns around, he sees you looking at him in a way he wants to shoot himself.

What had he done!?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

He hates himself for being unable to say no to you from the beginning.

-

While you two make love passionately, you ask him while riding him, his dick filling you completely as you rock your hips eagerly, bouncing on him and between moans that he never leaves your side.

-

Toto has a full-on panic attack in the bathroom of the hotel suite you went to spend your anniversary night while you peacefully sleep after fucking your brains off, not knowing what to do now.

You shouldn't be part of his life. This wasn't supposed to happen!

But the fear of losing you is equal to his fear of hurting you.

To confess is not an option. God! You will hate him when you discover the truth and that he lied to you about his life since the day you met him.

This Christian Bednarczyk is a facade that hides something worse, Toto Wolff.

-

"A what?!" Your parents and you all turn to look at him with a funny face, all situated at the table.

You went camping on a family trip for the weekend.

"What's with all those fancy words?" your mom asks.

"Yeah, right? I also noticed!" you add.

"You went to one of those "big farts" schools?" your dad questions him while biting his steak.

"Baby, do you want something else?" you ask Toto as you continue placing food on the big plate in the middle of the table and still taking steaks from the grill.

"No, love, I'm so full!" Toto rubs his belly.

"We ate half a cow already."

Your Dad and Toto nod, recognizing themselves as guilty.

"I used to read a lot," Toto answers the question.

"That's from where your posh English comes from. It makes sense! Honey, pass Mr. Thesaurus here another beer?" your dad messes around and requests you.

Their relationship is as great as yours is.

Toto loves to hang out with your family. Sometimes, he is even at your parents' tiny apartment when you are not.

Where they constantly and unintentionally embarrass you in front of him, creating lots of funny moments on both sides.

Your parents knew no shame, and Toto's out-of-touch secret silver spoon upbringing sometimes made him say and do things that made him look like he was from Mars.

-

It's Sunday morning. Toto and your Dad watch the race together in the living room while you are in the kitchen sink, blending acrylic paints and listening to their funny, excited little screams. They are both fans of the F1. As the race is about to end and they go to commercial break, Toto goes to the fridge for a can of Coca-Cola.

"Pss, pss," you grab his attention.

He turns to you to see you approaching him and softly pushing him to the broom closet; he puts no resistance.

"Yes?" he asks you, suspiciously next to a mop.

You steal a passionate kiss from him first, and as you pull away to catch your breaths, you explain.

"Mom and I are saving to get tickets to the race here in Monaco for Dad as a birthday gift. Do you want to come? We plan to have breakfast at that seafood place he took us once."

"The one with the delicious baked coconut shrimp."

"Yes, the one with the cook owner with a lazy eye."

"Captain Eye Evil"

You two invented a whole backstory in which that dude used to be a pirate in his prime.

"And then, off to the race! We plan on going all dress the same, you know, Dad's team."

The idea of Toto showing up in Ferrari gear was hilarious. That man had poor taste in all senses, but especially in teams.

Actually, it was a great and iconic team, but their fierce rival was so it was an instant and natural despise.

"I would love to, but I'll be in Austria, remember? I plan on giving your dad his birthday gift before leaving."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot! Son of a Biscuit!"

"Yup!" Toto says it like you do.

"What are you two doing hiding there in the broom closet?!" Your dad says as he gives you the eye now standing before you. "I would like to remind you I'm a police officer and have my gun on that drawer," your dad jokes around.

Toto raises both hands and gets out of there and away from you. "I didn't even touch her," he says while collecting his stuff and heading to the door. "Oh, but she did!" he jokes, quickly closing the door after him as your mom and you die of laughter.

"You better run!" your dad aloud.

"See you at night! It's sushi night!" Toto screams from the street as you and Chico appear on the window.

"Have a great day, sweety!" your mom warmly tells Toto goodbye. He was coaching today.

-

Toto hates to lie to you.

He did not travel to Austria. He is there, but at the pitlane in his team's garage, away from the cameras, next to his dad running this thing.

The live coverage crew knows they can't shoot any of the Wolff family members, and they don't dare disobey, so there is no risk since you and your family are in a sector far away.

-

By this point, Toto's family has been trying to arrange a marriage for him with his father's goddaughter for months. Her name is Emma. She is a lovely girl, but she is not you.

Toto's parents think they successfully brainwashed him into thinking he is old enough now to settle down and form a family.

Not only to keep the family's social rank and prestige but also to bear beautiful children with a gorgeous rich wife and grow the fortune of his future heirs.

Toto plays along with it, but he is no longer interested in anyone after being with you.

Be dating you is the best well-kept secret that he has held from his parents throughout his life.

Only Obi knows about you. He won't risk his other friends opening their mouths, and the rumor spreads among the elites.

-

There is no part of you he didn't explore, a corner of your body he didn't touch, or part of you he doesn't own.

-

There is no part of you Toto didn't explore, a corner of your body he didn't touch, or part of you he doesn't own.

-

On a Thursday after work, you meet Obi, Toto's roommate. Since they both share a tiny apartment without privacy, Toto never takes you there.

Obi is so handsome and tall, with a gorgeous smile and a sexy British accent; he looks like an African prince. He is super fun, light-spirited, and a clear best friend of your boyfriend.

Thanks to him, you get to know a bit more about Toto's life, well, about Chris's life.

They met in college.

"Two broke kids with crazy parents," Obi says among laughs.

Then you find out that Toto is not close with his parents, that's why he never mentions them.

-

You want to know why Toto's relationship with his parents got strangled. Maybe you can help to fix it.

When you ask the real questions, he dodges them, along with your requests to meet his family, even though he has met everyone relatively important in your life, even your dog!

-

A month passes, and Toto picks you up to go on a date, but you forget your paintbrush roll-up bag upstairs in the workshop, where you work above the gallery.

He offers to get it, and while you wait for him, you grab his phone to put your couple's playlist with songs both of you like.

Whenever you unlock his phone, it warms your heart. Toto changed his password to your birth date.

Amidst choosing a song, a text arrives from some "Emma,"

You aren't toxic, not one of those people who routinely nose in their partner's phones, but this one makes your jealousy monster come out.

Why is this girl calling him "love"?

God, you wish you didn't read that conversation.

-

As Toto opens the door to get back inside the car, he gets welcomed by you, holding his phone and looking mad before asking him:

"Whose Emma?"

FUCK!

TORGER YOU FUCKING IDIOT!

FUCK!

-

"Let me explain to you, please."

Tears are filling your eyes.

"Wait, not, please don't do that, don't cry," he looks desperate.

Then, you finally discover he has been seeing another woman for potential nuptials due to his parent's idea of arranging his marriage. You are a secret he has kept from them.

"So all this time, I was the "meanwhile," an entertainment for when the real one arrived." you sound so hurt and bitter.

"Don't say that." Toto looks anguished.

"That's why you didn't say it back."

"What?" he asks.

"When I told you I love you,"

"I hate myself more than you can imagine for hurting you like this. I didn't plan for this! It happened, and I couldn't be more grateful to have you in my life. You have no idea how much you have healed me. I was completely lost before you, and I don't want to break your heart..."

"Too late for that! Thank you, asshole, for exploding it into pieces." you interrupt him. "I will help you and your parents with that; I'm going to stay the fuck out of your life. I'm a fucking idiot!"

"I'm the fucking idiot here, for not being honest with you, for the lies, for everything. Please forgive! Don't leave me," Toto is begging for his life.

"Does the sorry for everything part also involve me?" tears are everywhere on your face, but rage is starting to show, too.

"For hurting you! Do you think I regret any of this?! That I regret us!?! You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me!" Toto confesses now in a loud voice, too heated.

"Yet not great enough apparently to put an end to that shit circus going on. If you truly loved me, you would fight for me, for us."

"Y/N, you don't know them..." Toto barely murmurs.

"Wrong answer," you say, lips trembling, before exiting the car and slamming the door.

Every step you take away from him kills you. You are so disheveled that you can't even show up to your parents.

-

As the weeks go by, you still look like a depressed mess, a shell of a person living life.

Not wanting to leave the bed, shower, eat, or go out.

Your mom and Dad are distraught. Your dad even suggested you go to "the looney."

God, he tries! But that is how concerned he is.

It is clear to them that Toto and you broke up, and they are sad about it, too. They considered him part of the family, but there isn't a clear explanation yet.

To touch the subject with you is impossible, so they cease.

-

Time plus painting helps you heal, and your art becomes more edgy and moody, which sells well. At least a positive outcome of this!

You blocked Toto out of your life. And you are still trying to erase him from your mind, heart, and body.

-

Five months have passed since you two broke up when a call comes from an unlisted number.

You answer your phone a bit dubious.

"Miss Y/N Y/LN?" the voice of a professional-sounding woman answers.

"Yes, who's speaking?"

"I am contacting you from the front desk of the ER at Princess Grace Hospital here in Monaco" Fuck! Something happened to your parents! You start to panic. "On behalf of Dr. Gastaud, you appear listed as Mr. Torger Wolff's emergency contact. He is curre-"

"Oh, wrong number, then. I don't know that person." You feel a brief sense of relief.

"Oh? But all your information is on our system. Are you sure you don't know patient Torger Christian Wolff Bednarczyk?"

"Christian! Yes, of course, is he okay!?" you feel your heart in your throat.

"We just moved him to intensive care. We need you here as soon as possible." She sounds so calm in comparison to you.

"I'm on my way!"

-

As the male nurse rushes Toto's IC bed across the doors, the doctor explains to you as you two walk alongside it at the same pace.

"Apparently, he was on the deck of his yacht where he slipped and hit his head. His staff brought him here."

His yacht? His staff?! What?!

"The blood test showed a high ingest of alcohol in his system." The doctor continues.

But Chris doesn't drink like that! He barely likes beers. Why?!

"He hit his head against the yacht's railing and has lost a lot of blood; according to the x-rays and the MRI, his brain is a bit swollen, and his arm got broken. I need your approval, miss."

The doctor stops for a second, grabbing the clipboard at the end of Toto's bed, next to his feet.

"What for?!"

"To induce him into a coma," the doctor answers.

You feel like fainting.

"I, I, I..." you are entering a state of shock that the doctor immediately recognizes as being used to dealing with those.

"Miss Y/LN," he snaps his fingers, getting you back. "We are losing time. It's the best option to stabilize and prevent him from leaving us. Do you approve of it?" The doctor shoves the clipboard to you.

"Yes," you feel your soul leaving your body.

"Sign here and wait there. It's going to take time," the doctor informs you.

-

You notify your parents about the situation. They immediately come to the hospital to join you while you wait for Toto's procedure to finish.

"We brought you dinner," your mom sweetly mentions.

"Thank you, Mom, but I'm not hungry. Actually, I threw up a bit ago," you confess.

"Let's pray, then." your mom grabs your shaky hands.

-

After it gets done, they move Toto to an intensive care room; tons of tubes, cables, and bags get connected to him.

This is and looks like a whole nightmare.

It feels wrong for you two to see each other like this since you called it quits.

Then, as that hurtful memory hits you back, an even worse crosses your mind.

His parents. They need to know! Do they know already? Did they get notified, too?

-

Around 3 a.m., you gather the energy to go to the front desk. Your mom stayed with you at the hospital to spend the night. She will look over Toto as you go.

This room and the whole private area look expensive. It would be best to ask about Toto's insurance and the bills. You are already worrying about how he is going to pay for it. You have some savings he could use if needed.

-

"Hi, miss. Did Mr. Wolff's parents get notified, too?" you ask the lady who called you.

"We only notify the people on his emergency contact list; you were the only one registered there," she explains.

"Oh..."

"But you can contact his insurance agent. We have her number registered here. They usually notify the patient's family. Personally, I never rely on the insurance people; sometimes they are the worst," she whispers to you, hiding behind her palm.

You look at her with a blank expression.

"Would you like the phone number to call?" she looks at you, a bit confused.

Why would you ask her for all this essential information about your husband?

If she knew.

She prints a sheet of paper and underlines some numbers with her blue pen.

"Thank you so much."

-

After a lengthy exchange with the insurance people and many revelations you didn't see coming, you obtain the number of Toto's father's office.

They indeed live in Austria. Toto's insurance covers him up to millions, a shocking amount, and the "Wolffs" are an important family you should know about.

You check on Google if it's a suitable hour to call Austria before remembering this is an emergency.

Toto appears stable, but he is not progressing as the doctor hoped. There is still not much brain activity on the damaged part.

You gain the courage to hit the call button after going over and over about how to introduce yourself or explain what is happening.

-

"Miss Y/N, hold in the line for a second. Thank you," Toto's father's beautiful assistant, sitting at her desk, tells you as she pushes a button on the intercom while holding the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Mr. Wolff! Your son's girlfriend is on the line. She needs to inform something about Toto. It sounds important."

Emma?! Did Torger propose to her? His dad thinks. "Yes, communicate with her."

His dad picks up the phone.

"Emma? Good afternoon, dear. How can I help you?"

So Toto is still with her? "Good night, Mr. Wolff," your voice surprises him. "I'm Y/N Y/LN. Your son is in intensive care at Princess Grace Hospital here in Monaco. We don't know how, but he slipped on a yacht deck, hitting his head with the railing. The hospital notified me, so I came as quickly as possible."

"How is my son doing? Please send all the information to my assistant's number. We will arrive there soon." He sounded genuinely concerned.

"He is stable, sir," you feel your voice cracking. "But he is not progressing as the doctors expected."

"What doctors? I need the names and the medical records sent to me. We would check them on the jet on our way there. We have many top-tier medical professionals on call."

"Ahem, give me a second. I'm searching for the full names," you say as you ask your mom to pass you some papers. Mr. Wolff hears other voices around you.

"Is this a scam?!" he sounds mad now.

"Sorry?"

"Whose there?"

"My mom"

"I have no idea who any of you are or why my son is in there with you. Hold," he pushes a button and asks his assistant to contact Torger.

No answer, she tries again.

"Could you tell Mr. Wolff to keep the conversation on the other line?" you answer from Toto's phone.

The nurse just handed you a bag with the things Toto was ingresed with at the hospital just a second ago. His bloodstained clothing disturbed you.

This would have been very helpful hours before.

It turns out his phone is still on, and Toto hasn't changed his password, which is your birth date.

"Mr. Wolff, why would I be joking with something as serious as this?"

"It's unexpected news."

"For all of us, I asked the nurse for the records. I already sent the doctor's names to your assistant."

"Is my son heavily medicated, resting, or is he able to talk to us?" Toto's mom is also present and listening through the speaker.

"He is in a coma."

-

"WHO PERMITTED YOU TO INDUCE MY SON INTO A COMA! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? ARE YOU AWARE HOW DANGEROUS IT IS? THE MINIMAL MISTAKE COULD DAMAGE HIM FOREVER IF NOT KILL HIM."

You can hear the screams coming from inside as Mr. Wolff is at a reunion with the doctors.

Your parents and you are sitting on one side of the narrow hallway, and Toto's mom is on the other, right in front of you, without talking to you.

Toto is getting "showered" by the nurse, and you all leave the room to give him privacy.

His mom is so beautiful and well-dressed that you feel almost ashamed of how you look at the moment, but those were the clothes you were wearing when they gave you the news. You haven't left the hospital for a second.

"Mom, please bring me some fresh clothes and my stuff."

"But honey, we don't want to leave you alone."

"No worries, Mr. and Mrs. Wolff are here, too."

"Are you sure?" she asks, concerned since they don't appear to be precisely friendly towards you.

You nod.

"We'll be right back," your dad says, waving and loudly addressing Mrs. Wolff. She scrutinizes him and slightly nods.

After some minutes alone, she asks you.

"Why brought him to this cheap hospital?" she looks around, not pleased with what she sees.

"It's near the harbor where his yacht apparently is."

"Young lady, if you had any involvement in his accident, you should speak right now; our detectives will conduct an investigation."

"Detectives?"

"Well, our son is worth millions, and our family billions, and you, out of nowhere, are on his emergency contact list as his caretaker and primary beneficiary in case something happens to him. Toto added you some months ago without telling you anything. "And suddenly, this happens."

"WHAT?!" Okay, this is just not real.

"I wasn't even there when it happened, and I had no idea about everything you mentioned."

-

Toto's parents want you out of the picture as soon as possible. Now it's clear to them you are the reason Toto keeps pushing away his engagement with Emma.

They keep acting cold to you and yours. However, the hospital and doctors allow you to stay and partake in life decision-making regarding him and the procedures he needs since you are also Toto's legal caretaker, much to their dislike.

-

"How much?" his father caught you off guard one afternoon.

"Pardon?"

"How much money do you want to stay away?"

"I'm not here for any of that. Please don't ask me that again; it's insulting," you warn Toto's dad, not letting you be intimidated by him and holding his stare.

This surprises them and earns you some of their respect.

-

Your life becomes being by Toto's side at the hospital, swallowing your social life, job, and income.

Toto's parents listen to the call in which your boss, against all her will, has no other remedy to fire you. You take it easy before returning to shaving Toto's beard tenderly and fixing his hair with a comb.

A brief, empathetic look crosses Toto's mom's eyes.

-

Still, your parents support you, knowing how much this and he means to you, yet unsure why you two ended things up since you both seemed so in love.

-

You remain silent under Toto's parents' continuous demands to know all about your relationship, current status, and details.

"Did you were sleeping around with our son?" his mom asks.

"We were in love and were in a relationship."

You refuse to speak more than that about it because it is personal, it's none of their business, and it also still hurts, and you don't want to give them pleasure.

-

One day, they arrive with Emma; that girl is stunning and as classy and elegant as them.

She rushes in and places herself on the side of Toto's IC bed before tenderly caressing his cheeks and kissing his lips.

All in front of you, inside, you want to push her away from him, but you know she is in no way responsible for this situation; she was dragged into this mess, too.

You remain quiet, watching it unfold before you. To Toto's parents' surprise, they expected a big drama.

-

After she leaves, they talk to you, explaining why they believe Emma is a better fit for Toto than you in all aspects and that if you loved their son, you should step aside since you and your family don't belong with their kind.

-

A couple of days later, Toto undergoes another surgery but fails to stabilize.

Doctors are unable to make more progress with him, so his father ponders moving Toto to a better hospital in Austria or Switzerland after finding a legal grey area in the caretaker clause, which sends you into a frenzy and full panic that they take Toto away.

"Moving him is a risk, a gamble," you warn them.

"We don't see enough progress here."

"And over there would be any different? They can assure you that?" you ask.

"No, they can't."

-

That idea doesn't materialize anyway because, throughout that night, Toto's condition gets worse, and you all learn he could die.

That causes you to enter into the worst depressive mood you have ever had and look significantly affected in the eyes of Toto's parents.

This raises questions in their mind that you might be more than a side chick and your connection more profound than just sex and financial interest, as you claimed.

-

Toto needs to undergo a risky procedure. There's a tiny chance of survival, but a speedy and total recovery awaits him if he does.

Your family and his gather to say goodbye as Toto gets moved at the doors leading to the operation room.

You don't know what to say. You're full of fear, so your dad goes first.

"Hey, big guy, once you told us you were strong enough, with those big arms of yours, to take down John Cena, I'm sure you will be strong enough to tackle this down," you and your parents chuckle at the inner joke.

The three of you remember that day you all got in the new furniture up the stairs.

You laugh until your laughter quickly turns to tears, and you break down for the first time. Your dad hugs you tightly.

"He loves you so much, like not to run away from you and us after that day!" your mom adds, looking at you with a tiny smile. "You can do this, sweetie." she grabs Toto's hand and addresses him.

You are a total mess when you get close to him. You rest your temple in his. "Please don't leave me, please; I love you, Torger," you beg him, using this name for the first time.

Toto's family observes say goodbye, giving you the space to it.

Before they come closer to kissing his son's forehead, "We love you, and we'll see you soon."

-

He survives, Toto is out of risk, and he is in excellent condition for a transfer to another hospital.

So you make a deal with his parents.

They will allow Toto to remain at this hospital and you to be by his side till he finishes recovering fully.

But after that, you be out of his life for good.

-

Two weeks later, Toto's health improves, bringing him out of the coma.

-

Toto's vision is all blurry. His eyes cannot focus, the light hurts him a lot, and he hears a loud whistle in his ears.

He thinks he hears people say, "He's baiting his eyes." "Yes, he is opening them."

He rubs the palm of his right hand against his face, closing his eyes again before being able to focus. Shapes become more precise as he turns his head to the side and sees you.

"Y/N?" his voice sounds so rough and crackly.

"Hi," you let out in a cry.

He reaches your face with his hand, touching around.

Toto feels dizzy and confused. "I wanted to make sure you were real this time," he closes his eyes for a second and exhales. "I v o," he murmurs.

"Sorry?" you ask.

"I love you," says louder. Toto sees your big smile. "Love of my life," he adds, staring at you.

"Hi, son," he hears his father's voice on the other side of his face.

"Dad?"

He feels his hand on his.

"Welcome back," his mom squeezes his arm and holds it tight.

"What?" he is so confused. Before the accident starts coming back to him, he tries to pull himself up, but his head hurts a lot.

"Easy, easy," you rush to aid him when the nurses and doctor enter.

-

"How are those Bambi legs doing?" you ask in a brief imitation movement as you greet Toto, to his amusement.

"Look at these tighs, stronger than ever," he jokes back.

"Strong enough to choke out John Cena?" your dad asks him, joining the fun and giving him a friendly shake.

"How are you, baby?" your mom greets him.

"Feeling better, the headaches are getting less intense."

His parents watch you interact, still not mingling, but not as judgy as once they were.

His recovery therapy has been a long journey. Most of his damage showed up in his physical motor skills, so there were lots of sessions on walking, coordination, and more.

You have been by his side every second of it.

-

During his remaining and final weeks at the hospital, his parents see Toto behave as they had never seen him before. He looks so happy, full of life, and in love. They also notice how well you take care of him and his recovery.

The soft touches you two share and the looks you exchange show undeniable affection and love.

-

When he finally leaves the hospital, he holds a small dinner to celebrate and thank you for all your support.

It's your first time visiting his apartment. He never lived with Obi, and it turns out that guy is even richer than him.

It's a penthouse luxurious as fuck.

There is a lot of food and drinks, and everyone looks so happy, everyone but you.

You know that tonight is the night when you say goodbye to him. His parents gave you a hint it was the moment for you to stay true to your word.

So, after everyone left, Toto approached you on the balcony.

"It's a sick view!" you softly say, feeling the sea's breeze on your face.

"I kind of miss Ms. Telbot's awful curtains," he says, referring to the neighbor across the street from your parent's place.

"Oh! She got new ones! They are even worse!"

You two share a laugh.

"Could you give me a second chance? I promise you I won't disappoint you." Toto asks you. He looks at you in a way that makes you want to throw yourself into his arms and for him to take you straight to his bed, but you can't.

"I'm sorry. It's best this way," you barely whisper.

"I know I hurt you a lot, and I screwed things up, but please, allow me to fix it." he looks hopeless.

"It's not that. I now get the full picture and understand why you made those choices. You belong with someone who suits you and your life better. It's going to make everything easier for you. I respected your choice, and I hope you respect mine," you say with conviction while trying to hold back your tears and eat your feelings.

"Why this feels like a goodbye?" he asks, choking up.

"Because it is. You are the best thing that ever happened in my life, too, and I'm so happy we made it through that and that you are still here. You deserve an amazing life; we both do, but we are not made for each other."

-

As the Wolff family jet leaves Monaco the following day, Toto looks out the window while crying in silence, tears flowing down his face.

His parents exchange looks, feeling the guilt.

-

As Toto finishes the recovery exercises he still needs to do a week later, his dad checks on him; Toto has looked like a complete mess since they arrived.

"Emma wants to see you. She is being insistent. It could also be good for you, some company and warmth."

"Who?" he looks confused for a second. "Oh, yeah, the Rothschilds girl, yeah, dad, I'm, my head is hurting a lot today, maybe tomorrow."

His dad nods before leaving, knowing it wasn't a time to push him.

-

A month passes, and Toto hears a couple of knocks on his childhood room's enormous, regal wood door, where he is staying, as he finishes fixing his tie.

They were expecting the Rothschilds over for a "special dinner."

"This ring belonged to your grandma, then to my mother, then to me, and now it belongs to you," his mom says, giving him the vintage red velvet box.

Toto looks at it, leaving a big sigh to escape his lips, and unenthusiasticly nods. He seems beyond resigned.

-

As they wait for their guests to arrive at the Wolff estate, sitting on the elegantly set garden table, Toto looks miserable. He was there, but he indeed wasn't.

"You are feeling this way because of Y/N?" his mom asks him, not being able to see his son suffering a minute more.

Toto's eyes go up at the mention of your name. "It doesn't matter anymore anyway."

"Why?" his father asks.

"She didn't have me back. She wants me out of her life."

"That's not true," his mom adds.

"Excuse me, but how could you know that?"

"We may have made a mistake," she confesses, looking sad and guilty.

"What do you mean?"

"We judge her poorly. Her family is something peculiar, the father..." she puts a face. "But the love she feels for you is undeniable. You know she never left your side at the hospital? Not even a second."

"She lived in there. She even lost her job," Toto's dad explains.

"WHAT?!" Toto looks now concerned. That was your only source of income! "Wait, what did you do?!" now he looks mad.

"We did what we thought was best for our son, but it wasn't."

"What did you do?!" he sounds so severe right now.

"We... found a grey area... in the caretaker clause, so we thought it was best for us to transfer you to a hospital here in Austria, where we could look after you."

"Away from her." Toto sounds judgy, eyes piercing them.

"Yes, so, she, we, made a deal," his mom continues explaining. "She would stay out of your life after it if we let you stay there until she saw you leave the hospital fully recovered."

"That's why those words didn't sound like hers that night. How could you do that to me, to us?!" he sounds resentful.

"Because we didn't know Y/N and had no idea how strong that bond between you truly was. Her love for you is indisputable." His dad tells him.

"She never cracked under our pressure; she fought hard and fair and did an amazing job caring for you." He continues. "It's our fault, and we are deeply sorry."

For Toto's dad to apologize and for his mom to look this ashamed was something so significant and never seen.

"So now what?! Emma and her parents will be here any minute." Toto says.

"Only if you had a jet waiting for you to leave for Monaco," his dad expresses, winking an eye.

"Only if you had a ring to offer to Y/N," his mom tells Toto, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head.

-

You arrive at the gallery, finally back at your job, and glad your boss hired you again! You are so excited to paint in the workshop.

You finish pushing the door, which is already slightly open. Someone must have arrived early, too, but the place is empty, to your surprise.

You don't think much of it. You go straight to the easel with your name on it, pull out all your brushes and materials from your bag, and remove the dust white sheet on top of the empty canvas.

You look perplexed as you read the freshly brush-painted letters on it: "Will you marry me?"

"I found the truth," Toto's voice makes you jump slightly.

You turn around to watch him smile big at you with adoring sparkling eyes before you answer his question.

"Yes" More Toto Wolff fics right here > Masterlist

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[darkjimxn]

Fool's Gold || JJK

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook. 

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises. 

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month. 

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence. 

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again. 

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence. 

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously. 

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again. 

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?” 

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him. 

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer. 

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery. 

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now. 

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love. 

Only power. 

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white. 

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands. 

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle. 

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did. 

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too. 

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin. 

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head. 

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone. 

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him. 

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you. 

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month. 

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof. 

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there. 

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words. 

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be. 

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention. 

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you. 

So he tried not to be unsettled. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning. 

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground. 

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

-

-

-

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance. 

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him. 

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely. 

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax. 

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat. 

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids. 

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly. 

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded. 

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender. 

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought. 

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly. 

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on. 

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk. 

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding. 

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons. 

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two. 

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them. 

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information. 

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant. 

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful. 

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open. 

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead. 

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space. 

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you. 

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance. 

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well. 

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him. 

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her. 

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now. 

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed. 

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights. 

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee. 

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze. 

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other. 

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything. 

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well. 

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief. 

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne. 

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous. 

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak. 

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster. 

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side. 

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands. 

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later. 

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway. 

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment. 

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again. 

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you. 

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him. 

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer. 

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look. 

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud. 

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes. 

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink. 

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions. 

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold. 

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form. 

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest. 

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

 “P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air. 

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke. 

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout. 

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now. 

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression. 

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation. 

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more. 

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous. 

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability. 

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow. 

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it. 

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment. 

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly. 

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump. 

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone. 

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak. 

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him. 

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew. 

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick. 

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation. 

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare. 

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response. 

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony. 

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing. 

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze. 

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness. 

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce. 

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.  

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

#jungkook mafia au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook fic #bts au fic #bts au #jimin #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook bts #mafia leader jungkook #bts fic #jungkook x y/n #bts series #jungkook series #jin #yoongi #namjoon #hoseok #taehyung #jungkook #seokjin #suga #rm #jhope #v #jungkook ff

[reidsdimples]

Testing the limits

Hard Dom Spencer Reid x Wife!Reader

18+❤️‍🔥 MDNI ‼️

Saw someone say they needed a mocking Spence saying”aw you just want me to give you some attention” and came up with this 🥵

You cross a line in an attempt to get Spencer’s attention.

TW: Hard Dom Spencer, choking, squirting, restraints

You pace back and forth in front of the door to Spencer’s home office. He had been in there for four hours at this point. After working a full day! It was admirable, his work ethic. But often left you feeling neglected.

An hour ago you knocked and he said “just a minute.”

You knew he wouldn’t be out in a minute. You also you knew you weren’t to go into his office. Something about the classified files in there and what not.

You push the door open to see him with his face still in a file at his desk. He didn’t even look up at you.

“I need more time,” he said dismissively.

It had been exactly 15 days since he touched you. Eight of which he was gone on a work trip, the rest were like this. Home but now home.

You knew what marrying him entailed but times like this when you got so wound tight, it was hard.

“Spencer,” you whine and stomp your foot.

He glanced up from the file briefly to see you standing there in one of his shirts with the buttons open and a thong.

“My love I have to get this done,” he asserts.

You pad away. You needed another plan. You would get him tonight before he worked so hard he fell asleep without so much as a word to you.

For a while you make considerable effort to stomp around upstairs above him, to clash pans in the kitchen, and blast music to get him to at least acknowledge you.

Finally you make a decision. You look back into his office to see him pacing behind his desk, on a phone call. Hotch from the sound of it.

You had a feeling that what you were about to do would get you punished. But you would take a punishment over the absence of him. Seriously, you were so pent up that the mere friction from your panties could make you moan.

He doesn’t see you stroll into his office as his back is turned. You pluck the three files off of the desk and make a break for it. He hears you scurry away.

“Hotch let me call you back,” you hear him throw the phone on his desk.

You make it upstairs and hide the files in a bookshelf in the library before running to your bedroom.

“Y/N you know better,” he calls as he approaches the bedroom.

Your heart hammers, you bite into your lip and pull yourself further under the bed. Excitement courses through you as you see his converse enter the room.

“Poor thing, so desperate for attention,” he mocks and circles the bed. “Pretty girl, I can hear you breathing,” he tutts.

When he reaches one side of the bed you scramble out of the opposite side. He takes long strides to the bedroom door and slams it closed before you reach it.

He was pissed, but he looked so fucking good. The top two buttons of his purple shirt were undone, it was only partially tucked now, and his hair was a mess. His eyes trailed over your mostly naked body as he chewed on his lip.

“So attention starved?” He steps slowly towards you. His deft fingers start to undo his belt buckle causing your cheeks to heat.

“Answer me,” he snaps the belt out from around his waist in a swift motion. You swallow hard.

“I missed you,” you look at him with wide eyes.

“‘I missed you,’” he mocks with a laugh as he shakes his head.

Oh yeah, you had crossed a line.

“Where are the files?” He folds the belt in his strong hands. You shake your head ‘no’ and don’t break eye contact with him.

One thing most people don’t expect about Spencer, is for him to have extremely refined needs sexually. He’s a sadist. You can see his heart rate increasing in his throat as you defy him.

He needs to inflict pain on you, for pleasure of course. You work well with him because you can take anything he dishes out. You get off on the pain, on watching him find pure elation in hurting you.

“You don’t scare me,” you huff, deciding to full send since he’s so far gone now.

You dart for the bathroom which is joined to another room entirely. The room you wanted him in the most.

You hear his calm and collected footsteps enter the room where you keep all of the toys for moments like this. He grabs you by the back of your neck and turns you towards him. You can’t help but laugh.

“I see now. It’s not just my wife that misses me, but my little whore,” he brings the belt down and it clashes with the backs of your bare thighs. You yelp and he pushes you further into the room.

“I need you,” you whimper and look up at him through long eyelashes.

He grips your throat hard, sending pulsing need to your clit as he backs you up against a wall.

“Where are the files?” He asks again, his mouth near your ear now.

“Not until I get what I want,” you pout and reach for his crotch. He seizes your wrist and pins it to the wall.

“Fine,” he huffs.

He reaches upward and brings leather cuffs down which are suspended to the ceiling above.

He suspends you there, your ass just barely touching the cherry wood wall behind you. This room, all fine crafted wood, soft carpet, and many surfaces for fucking. You had designed it together. You loved it.

You watch him move over to a rack of toys and grab a spreader bar, ah shit.

He latches each side to your ankles and spreads you as wide as your legs will go. You’re barely on your tip toes now.

He slowly unbuttons his shirt as his eyes darken, you watch him shift into the headspace you want him in. A primal look in his eyes that makes your mouth drool.

His shirt falls free and his slacks hang low on his hips, giving you a view of his perfect body and his hard cock straining against his pants. You whimper but you can’t move.

He brandishes a wand with a wicked grin and turns it on.

He approaches you but he doesn’t touch you at all. He won’t give you the satisfaction after what you did. He brings the head of the vibrator wand to your pussy and presses hard. You let out a restrained moan and try to move but you can’t. The raw sensation overwhelming, and you can’t close your legs around it.

“Fuck!” You scream as your body starts to shake. “Please,” you’re begging him to touch you. You need him.

He shakes his head as he watches you take it, his mouth agape. Your climax is building, winding painfully tight in the pit of your stomach. Your moans turn to screams and then…

He pulls away. You deflate in the restraints and glare at him.

“Where are the files,” he demands.

Your body is on fire, shaking with need.

“You’re not cumming until I know,” he crosses his strong arms. You shake your head, stubbornly.

“Fine,” he brings his belt up and wraps it around your throat.

It’s loose at first, the belt buckle allowing it to act as a slip knot. The long part of the belt hangs down your back.

He yanks it hard and it tightens around your throat. You fucking love it, you struggle to breath until your vision darkens and the he releases it. You gasp for air just as he brings the wand back to your throbbing pussy.

“Please,” you howl and then he pushes the wand harder against you as he tightens the belt once more.

Again, you reach the precipice of your orgasm and he stops, allowing you to breathe too.

“Fuck, Spencer!” You grind out.

“That wasn’t a safe word. And I still don’t know where my files are. Tell me. I’ll make you cum like the slut you are if you just fess up,” he taunts as he drags the head of the vibrator over your nipples. Arousal drips down your thighs.

“The library, one of the bookshelves on the left,” you pant at hang your head.

He gives you a cocky grin but drops to his knees before you.

He kneels between your legs and stares into your eyes. Then he’s sliding his tongue into your cunt greedily until you’re crying out his name. You try to rock against him but the restraints give you no leverage.

He presses the wand against your clit as he angels himself better to tongue fuck your pussy.

“Fuck!” You scream which prompts him to grab the belt and tighten it.

The sensations are too much, too good. His face is buried in you, the belt chocking you, the wand massaging your clit… you can’t even see straight as you violently begin to shake.

You erupt and you know you’ve squirted. He releases the belt just as your vision blackens and allows you to scream. He discards the wand and grips your hips as he sucks on your pussy like it gives him life. Your cum is pouring down his chin and chest below you, making his skin glisten.

Fuck, he’s so beautiful.

You could never get enough of him.

“Such a good girl for me,” he kisses your forehead as he carries you to bed. “Rest now,” he whispers as he tucks you in.

You almost protest, wanting to have sex but your body is limp with exhaustion from the edging and the orgasm that followed.

He disappears to the library to retrieve the files and return to work.

#spencer reid #mgg #criminal minds #mgg pics #dr reid #spencer reid one shots #spicy spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid ai #dom spencer reid #Spencer Reid smut #spencer reid hot #matthewgraygubler #matthew gray gubler

[elisabethdeep-blog]

Gotta make a post about my best DunMeshi neurospicy boi

Lotta content out there about Laios' autistic traits but where o where is the Senshi rep?

Senshi's dedication to Dungeon trophic systems makes Laios' special interest look like a well-thumbed pamphlet. (Granted Senshi has had significantly longer to cook; Laios is a baby).

Senshi's limited emoting is baked-in to his character model- that thousand yard stare, most of his face occluded by his habitual helmet (masked, even...... How many folks pine for covid masks obviating the need to manage their faces constantly?)

He overheard someone mention his special interest and Walked Right Up to a Group of Strangers to brazenly asplain them a thing. Marcille makes a bridge-mending bid regarding the mosses in the scorpion hotpot (after her previous truculent outbursts) and he totally deadpans her, because he didn't even notice.

He is VERY COMMITED to his ethical position on dungeon ecology. More than once he's disrupted Marcille Right at the point of release of a spell, after she's been chanting for like a paragraph, because she's going to contravene some principle of his.

Also

Speaking of Marcille, he demonstrates some pretty rigid, black-and-white thinking around magic, that doesn't seem internally consistent. He's repeatedly reanimating magical constructs (golems), an explicitly controlled magical act, but is Very Very reluctant to submit to being charmed with WaterWalk; his spoken reasoning about this just doesn't hold water.

Oh and he's totally neglected his personal hygiene for basically ever. He's averse to cleaning up for the sake of being bespelled, but other than magic, seems fine with getting the salon treatment. This isn't a Toph Beifong 'protective layer of earth', he's just forgotten to care about not being covered with monster gore.

PDA? The fellow has one (1) social skill, namely, he exercises any discretion on opening his mouth to argue. But that holds him back exactly NONE when he decides he's done listening. The first time we see this is gathering Mandrakes, when he doesn't SAY he's done with Marcille's opinions, but he Does just go ahead and exercise his damn autonomy. a MUCH stronger example is when Chilchuck is guiding them through the trap rooms. Senshi gets roundly (and rightly!) chewed out by Chilchuck, and his response isn't the sensible 'sorry Chilchuck, maybe I could walk more directly behind you so I can more closely match your steps', but to BRAZENLY DANCE ALL OVER THE TRAP FLOOR! the only reason that doesn't kill the whole party is The Plot. It's not even that he doesn't appreciate Chilchuck's skill- he just don't like getting chastised! Same with Anne the Kelpie! Senshi's gonna do what Senshi's gonna do! He WILL not be rushed, he WILL not be chastised, he WILL not be directed! How do we think he came to be living in a dungeon all by himself in the first place!!

AND THE BREAD!

THIS IS NOT THE DEMAND OF A NEUROTYPICAL DWARF

Look there's more. After Chilchuck's impassioned and heartfelt plea, Senshi suggests they should return to the surface because they're 'low on seasoning'.

He's a dwarf who turned his adamantium shield into a cookpot.

He can meticulously maintain his mithril cooking knife but not his axe.

He responds well to other characters meeting him halfway but initiates few (no?) such bids himself. There's rarely any guile in Senshi, and when he is being shifty, he's Bad At It- and again, usually its in service of demand avoidance, like when he capitalises on Marcille's toilet break to reanimate his golems.

Senshi is the monomaniac that society has spent Decades trying to iron out of my wrinkly brain.

I hope to see him also find a place in the neurosparkly constellations.

#why no tism love for Senshi #I'm worried it's cos he's ambiguously/fantasy POC-coded #all power to ppl seeing themselves in Laios tho #lotta brain weirdos in this show #dungeon meshi #senshi #autism #autistic senshi #neurodivergent #delicious in dungeon #endless gratitude for the giffers

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Do you have any extra prompts/perspective for shutdown trauma responses? So far I have a few related to freeze but I know they’re different in their own ways (I have some unrelated to freeze too, I just rather ask a professional in case there’s more)

disclaimer that while I have written about the topic in my own fics before, I only consider myself a fanfic writer who’s done some research, not a professional, and these are supposed to be prompts for writers to use and tweak however they see fits for their fanfics / original works for entertainment purposes. please don’t treat these following prompts as a 100% accurate psychological information that can be applied in real life situations without doing your own research and consulting with a licensed professional.

trigger warnings: PTSD, depression, implied suicide, eating disorder

whumpee not being able to feel the pain that should have been haunting them, be it physical or mental. and that is not a good thing, because they’re not processing what happened, and they can’t heal as long as they cannot process or acknowledge what happened to them.

numb, however, is all whumpee can feel. and the numbness is so much worse and more dangerous than pain.

depression, prolonged stress, anxiety and procrastination are also possibilities. if whumpee only feels numb all the time, there’re chances of them developing other mental disorders that may cause them to believe that their entire life is now without any purpose.

whumpee feeling hopeless and wanting to give up all the time. any personal interest they had prior to the traumatic incident is now gone.

loss of appetite. an eating disorder where food tastes like ashes, and panic sends them into having an episode whenever caretaker tries making them eat — because it feels like someone was forcing ashes down their throat and they could not breathe. their body would not accept the food, and their gag reflex made them feel like throwing up. it is as much physical as it is psychological.

confusion and/or hallucinations may occur — whumpee struggling to distinguish between what’s real and what’s in their head. denial may trick their mind into believing that the tragedy that’s happened to them didn’t actually happen, and denying is certainly not the read toward recovery.

whumpee stopped talking altogether. doesn’t matter if they’re safe with caretaker now. they would not talk to anybody about anything at all, not just what happened. (they physically could, but they’re so traumatized that speaking is too much for them.)

the needs to hide from everything and everyone all the time are there. doesn’t matter if it’s caretaker, whumpee simply does not wish to be seen.

they keep mostly silent and mostly to themself, in the sense that they avoid everybody and spend most of their time locked in their room where no one can see them.

they may be too afraid to make any decisions for themself, no matter how small the decision is.

appearing disengaged in any social interaction and limiting the way they express any emotion at all; in other cases where they’re not numb, they may be scared or upset in some situations, but their brain tells them to keep their guard up by not letting others see how they actually feel. whumpee believe they’re shielding and protecting themself this way, and they will always need to “play safe”, since it’s best not to let anyone know how they feel, even if it’s caretaker.

#admin answers #ptsd #writing #whump #writer #angst #whumpblr #writers #writeblr #writing resources #writing inspiration #writing inspo #writing challenge #whump prompts #whump prompt #writing prompts #writing prompt #prompts #prompt #whump tropes #whump trope #writing tropes #tropes #writing trope #trope

[wip]

morning wips! i wanna get involved with the communities rollout! i've submitted a couple of them for review already. however, even for someone like me that is v ready for it, it's hard to engage with communities as a concept because it's not clear what they'll be, not possible to browse existing ones, and there's no info about how they might look or feel like to use. could we have a list of communities that are already happening (even if we can't access them yet), a walkthrough of how communities look or some other descriptive resource? the current info about communities isn't telling very much. these suggestions are made with positive enthusiasm - i WANT to get hype - but it feels v much like we're fumbling in the dark/contributing to something that we don't get to see atm and i think some clarity would help. kis kis kis !!

Answer: Hi there, @moitt!

Thank you for these. All great, fair questions!

And we are happy to answer them. Admittedly, we are fumbling in the dark a little, you might say—that is why it’s still an experiment. We have our own ideas for how Communities could work, but really, we want to build it based on what people actually do with it. This is why the current functionality is fairly simple and limited. We’ve wanted to see what feedback we get and to understand what people ask for and expect—rather than spending a long time building something that may be unappealing to the people we hope will use it (we’ve made that mistake many times in the past!) You can see a little bit of that dialogue in the Feedback community.

To your point about seeing communities—right now, we’re working on ways of integrating public communities into existing feeds, search, tagged pages, etc., so that they can be discovered by people who aren’t in any yet (which is most people on Tumblr!) We hope that by seeing other people use it, you’ll get a better explanation than anything we could try to provide—because every community is doing things in their own interestingly unique way right now. We don’t want to be prescriptive about how they should be used.

By the way, the same is true with how blogs work on Tumblr—we don’t tell you how to blog. Instead, we hope you try to figure out your own way of blogging by seeing how others behave on the platform.

We hope that helps address at least some of your queries. We would also advise that you have a little look at this handy Help Center explainer into Communities. Above all, we hope y’all like it.

Stay tuned!

#feature #communities #wip speaks #sneak peak #tumblr roadmap #this is a work in progress

[izelascendant]

Unsportsmanlike

Chapter 1 - Atlanta

━•❖•━

Rating | Mature Summary | What happens between the four after Tashi's injury. Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig Tags | Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Baggage, Smut, Exes, Unresolved Tension, Complicated Relationships Word Count | 2.7K Author's note | SMUT warning! This chapter is pretty much just smut with background plot. I been a nasty girrrl, nasty—is somebody gonna match my freak?

━•❖•━

Part 1 of this series - Sportsmanlike

Unsportsman like on AO3 | Chapter 1 - Atlanta, Chapter 2 - Spring Blooms, Chapter 3, ...

2007

Everything changed after the incident.

Tashi Duncan, once the promising tennis prodigy, now faced a future irreversibly altered by a soul-crushing injury, leaving her dreams behind and her career at a halt. The chain of events set in motion had far-reaching consequences, affecting not only her own life but also the lives of those around her. The lives of the three people so close to Tashi's story would be forever changed, for the better—or for the worst.

Despite the accident not being her fault she could sense Tashi's silent resentment towards her. And although Tashi never outright accused her, she could sense the undercurrent of bitterness between them. It was as if the balance of power between them faltered, with Tashi's control over her slowly slipping through her fingers.

Tashi's attitude towards Patrick hardened after the accident. Despite his efforts to reach out to her, she wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Patrick's visits to Stanford became rare—eventually stopping altogether. The once close connections between Patrick and her, Tashi, and Art had dwindled to nothing.

Art’s interactions with Tashi took on a different tone, with him accepting her instructions and following her guidance. Perhaps this was the start of Tashi's next target, with Art willingly playing the role of the obedient follower she craved.

She couldn’t help but feel tremendously guilty about Art and Tashi's situation. She also couldn't shake the feeling of pity for Patrick. Despite Patrick’s attempts to fix things, Tashi refused to engage with him—and consequently—Art did the same. As she reflected on her last encounter with Patrick at Stanford, she could still hear his resigned voice. “Good luck with those two.”

She did everything she could.

Her desperation pushed her to plead with Tashi. "Tashi, please," she implored, "I'll do anything . I just want things to go back the way they used to be between us." Tashi's silence and distance had become too much for her.

"Yeah, I also wish things had gone differently," Tashi said coolly, "but there’s nothing I can do about it, so what are you begging me for?"

She found herself begging for forgiveness, even though she knew deep down the accident wasn’t her fault. "I can't begin to imagine your frustration, Tashi. I’m just asking that you forgive me."

"You want my forgiveness?" Tashi says, her tone commanding. "Here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna let me have Art and you’re going to play for me. I'll be here to train you and turn you pro." Tashi outlines her conditions unwavering determination, setting clear boundaries. "I don't want to hear any bitching, any complaints," she orders. "I don't want you distracted, trying to start anything with Art. If you're gonna be playing for me, you do it under my rules."

In her determination to secure Tashi's forgiveness, she found herself submitting to Tashi's demands and orders without question. She endured Tashi's harsh training daily, pushing her limits to the extreme during her final year at Stanford. The hardest part of her new reality was watching Tashi make Art fall in love with her, unable to decipher whether her jealousy was stronger for Art or Tashi.

Her own downfall came not long after. The intense pressure took its toll on her, leading to a breakdown during an important match. Overwhelmed, she dropped her racket and succumbed to an intense panic attack. She couldn’t take it anymore—making a promise to herself—she would never pick up a racket again.

Her studies came to a halt. The cursed year of 2007 and her Stanford days were over. She disappeared, similarly to Patrick. 

Atlanta, 2011

Patrick

Patrick walks down the streets of downtown Atlanta, feeling the warm summer night air caress his skin as he takes a puff from his cigarette. His gaze scans the surroundings, taking in the luxurious interiors of the hotels that line the area. He probably could be staying in one of those hotels if his tennis career was as bustling as he expected it to be back in the day. Sure, he has his family’s money, but he never had the guts to ask his parents for anything. 

He takes a deep puff of his cigarette, savoring the taste before flicking it away onto the pavement. With a final breath, he steps forward, his gaze fixed on the doorway of a hotel ahead. He can't help but notice the elegant wooden paneling of the hotel's interior, and the sparkling chandelier.

Patrick takes another step forward and comes to a stop in front of one of the windows.

She doesn’t seem to notice him at first, giving him the opportunity to observe the person he used to know. He notices how she’s changed—or, in fact—how little she’s changed since he last saw her. Her copper hair is slightly shorter, lending her a more sophisticated look, and her face holds a gentle expression as she gazes at the TV in the corner of the bar. He can't help but notice the familiar tilt of her head, a mannerism that is uniquely hers, and how she still looks youthful, yet more at peace and seemingly more adult.

As she turns her head and her eyes meet his through the window, her eyes widen in surprise. The soft glow of the reflection from the window falls upon her features, highlighting her beautiful expressions. Seeing her reaction, Patrick can't help but let a familiar smirk play upon his lips—his typical smirk.

For a brief moment, the two of them simply stand there, staring at each other through the window before he makes his way to the doorway to join her inside.

Her eyes follow him as he approaches over to her table in the empty bar. Patrick notices there’s no trace of hostility in her expression and decides to take a seat opposite her, his gaze briefly flicking down to the glass in her hands before meeting her eyes again.

As Patrick sits across from her, she can't help but notice how good he looks—perhaps too good—and she finds herself feeling extremely weak under his gaze.

She recognizes that familiar hint of smugness that has always been a part of his personality. But there is something different about him too, a gentleness beneath the surface.

The silence hangs in the air for a moment before she breaks it with a casual question, "Still playing tennis?"

“Yeah.” He pauses for a moment, considering whether to mention the lack of success in his career, but there’s no need to embarrass himself. "Guessing you're not."

As she shakes her head slowly, her eyelids flutter downward in a bittersweet expression. Art Donaldson's name is mentioned from the tennis commentary on the TV in the background, reminding them both of the shared history and memories that connect them.

Patrick's low, calm voice breaks through, asking the question that hangs between them. "So, what is it you've been up to?"

There's a hint of irony in her voice as she speaks. "I can't seem to fully escape tennis," she admits. "I'm an editor."

"You write about tennis?" Patrick quirks an eyebrow as he asks her a question.

"Sometimes, yeah." She nods slightly in confirmation. 

The moment of silence stretches out between them, neither wanting to bring up the topic of Art and Tashi, yet knowing that it's unavoidable. Patrick breaks the silence first.

"Are you still in touch with them?" The words hang in the air, carrying a heavy weight.

Without needing to say their names, she knows exactly who is being referred to. "I wrote a paper a few months back," she explains, "I spoke to them briefly. It was cordial." She recalls her last encounter with Art and Tashi.

"So it was awkward?" His smirk becomes more pronounced as he awaits her response.

She shrugs casually, refusing to admit anything. She tries to maintain her neutral facade, but Patrick's smirk implies that he sees right through her.

Patrick leans in closer as he begins to tease her lightly. "You know," he says, "the thing about me is that I was never obsessed with Tashi the way you and Art were. Maybe at the beginning I was, but you're still going strong, aren't you? What's it been—six years?"

She catches a hint of the familiarity in his comment, reminding her that perhaps he hasn't changed much since their teenage days together.

"Well, I'm not the one marrying her," she says calmly, "maybe you should tell that to Art." Her words carry a subtle sense of finality, ending the discussion about Tashi's presence in her life.

Patrick’s expression changes slightly, and she can see the surprise that flickers across his features as he absorbs the word "marrying." He’s slightly caught off guard by this news, and there is a momentary glint in his eye that indicates that he now realizes his assumptions were misguided.

"And how's life going now that she hates your guts forever?" She leans in closer, taking the opportunity to tease him back. 

He simply looks at her with a smile. "What about me? You hate my guts too?” He asks, his tone still somewhat playful—but with a sincere undertone—as if hoping for a different answer.

She notices the glint of subtle loneliness in his eyes and she can read past his facade of smugness.

"I wouldn't let you sit at my table if I still did." Her words are spoken in a soft, gentle tone, a hint of affection in her gaze as she looks at him. 

Her hand freezes mid-air, her fingers just about to reach her glass, as she feels the unexpected touch of his hands as he gently guides the glass back onto the table. Their eyes lock once again, and she sees an expression on his face that is completely new to her.

"I miss you." The words come out of Patrick’s mouth smoothly. There is no facade, no bravado, just a simple, raw confession that hangs between them.

His words aren’t directed to Tashi, nor Art. He’s in the moment—talking to her—and only her. Maybe that’s exactly what she needed to hear, both of them having been deprived of affection for so long.

Maybe he’s just in the right place at the right time.

Holding her hands at the center of the table, he leans in and she accepts his lips against hers, sharing a slow yet passionate kiss.

His hand cups the side of her face before making its way up to her hair. She feels the smoothness of his face and his familiar scent. Someone she once hated so much she finds herself kissing with such tenderness.

After breaking the kiss, she takes his hand and leads him past the lobby and up to her room. They exchange few words, and as they step into her room and the door closes behind them, she looks up at him with an almost pleading gaze.

The look on her face, filled with desire, stirs something primal within him, and he knows at that moment that he will remember this night for a long time. 

He slowly wraps his arms around her, pulling her close, his touch is firm. His eyes lock with hers. "Tell me what you want tonight." His voice comes out as a raspy whisper.

“Take care of me.” She whispers back, wasting no time before reaching up to hold the sides of his face to kiss him again—needy and hungry—but still savoring the moment.

The vulnerability in her voice tugs at something deep within him. His mouth moves hungrily against hers as his arms tighten around her, holding her close. Slowly, carefully, he walks her backward toward her bed, deepening the kiss as he lays her down, their bodies pressed together in a tangle of limbs.

She starts to feel the reality of the situation settle in, sensing the rush of adrenaline, her heartbeat increasing along with the redness in her cheeks—but she doesn't back away.

They shuffle around to get rid of each other’s clothes. Patrick watches hungrily as she begins to undress, his eyes taking her in as he sees her in this light for the first time. He leans down, brushing his lips gently against her skin, his touch firm yet tender, as his hand softly caresses her side, tracing a path up to her breast.

"I want you so bad." He confesses in a hoarse voice. "You have no idea how beautiful you are."

She looks at him, searching in his eyes, craving the affection from him that he’s proved to be very good at providing.

“Have me, I’m all yours.” She replies in a breathy whisper, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. At that moment—as much as she feels like it’s her duty to be in control of every aspect in her life—she can’t help but simply let him take control. 

His mouth moves to her neck, his lips burning against her skin as he places gentle, fleeting kisses along her collarbone. He moves lower, his mouth moving to her breast—his hand gently cupping the other—his thumb brushing against her.

He lifts his head, looking down at her with a burning gaze, his breath ragged. "Tell me what you want," he urges, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.

She barely has the opportunity to answer as he doesn’t hesitate for a second. He moves down her body, kissing a trail down her stomach, down her hips, down her thighs, until he’s nestled between her legs, his breath hot against her.

“I want you, please .” She swallows, finding it harder to breathe with each passing second. 

She’s now had all three of them in this exact position before—Tashi, Art and now Patrick—faces buried between her thighs.

Patrick can practically smell her arousal, can feel the heat radiating from her, and it sends a shiver through him. He grips his hands on her thighs, his breath hot against her as he looks up at her, watching her grip the pillow behind her head. Without any hesitation, he leans in, his tongue teasing out of his mouth to lick and taste, his eyes not leaving her face, watching her every reaction.

Things quickly escalate to her fumbling to grab her wallet, fishing out a condom to pass over to him. She’s unable to contain herself from admiring how good he looks while he tries to focus while rolling the condom onto himself. It seems that every little gesture he makes is swift and somehow so attractive, and as much as she would like to take a more active role, she simply feels glued down to the mattress, her body still warm and limbs feeling heavy.

He reaches down, his hand gently gripping her hip, as he positions himself between her legs. He looks down at her, his eyes burning with a mix of desire and affection, his expression a strange combination of intensity and tenderness.

"So pretty," He reaches down, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and kissing the side of her neck.

“Patrick, please, put it in .“ She practically begs as she wraps her legs around his hips, almost locking him in position.

He breaks away from her neck, his eyes burning as he looks down at her, panting softly as he takes in her expression. Then, slowly, carefully, he lines himself up with her entrance, his grip on her hips tightening ever so slightly as he slides himself into her, joining their bodies with a soft moan. 

She cups her hands up to bring his face closer to hers. It’s almost pathetic how eagerly she receives him. “Keep moving—keep moving.” She begs in a breathless voice.

At the sound of her needy pleas, all restraint goes out of the window. He starts to move, his hips rocking against hers, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of her, warm and wet and perfect around him.

“Oh god, ” he moans, his voice low and breathless. "You feel so good, so amazing." His body moves automatically, seeking out the best angle and position to drive her wild.

She feels perfectly helpless underneath him, her limbs tightly wrapped around him and her hand reaching for a fistful of his curls while she nuzzles into his neck in attempts to drown out her moans. “Fuck—” She breathes out, biting down on the back of her index finger.

One of his hands comes up, tugging her hand and pulling it away from her mouth with a breathless groan. “I wanna hear you.” 

Patrick really could care less about how late it is and about the poor guests next door.

In the end, both of them are glad she happened to be in Atlanta at the same time as him.

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[saintjosie]

hi, i promise this question is in good faith, i genuinely just want your opinion!

as an asian tguy, i've noticed a phenomenon of white tgirls constantly using anime gifs to express their feelings or use to represent their reactions. and while i agree that anime is very cute, it stirs something in me when i scroll through so many blogs that ONLY use anime gifs to react. idk it would make me feel less weird about it if there was more variation i think but. maybe i’m overreacting?

i want to support my people and be anti-racist but i also don't want to end up with a transphobic belief in the process. i figured you'd be a good person to ask as a fellow asian on the "other side" of it all. sorry if this is tedious to read and answer

first, this post on orientalism is a good primer and says a lot of things way better than i ever could.

unfortunately there is no easy answer for this and the short answer is “it depends”.

the root of this issue lies in both objectification and also the difference between appreciation and appropriation. there is absolutely an issue with people in general objectifying asians and appropriating asian culture and this is not limited to just white people or white trans fems; this is a problem with western culture as a whole.

but it is very important to add that i do believe that your singling out of white trans fems is somewhat unfair. there is absolutely an issue of white queer and trans people misunderstanding intersectionality and failing to recognize their white privilege but the way that white trans fems interact with anime is no different than the way that all of western culture treats things like anime and k-pop.

so regarding the “it depends”, what matters is ultimately that each and every person is responsible for dismantling their own privileges and biases. there is no sweeping generalization that i or anyone else can make that says “this is bad” when ultimately it comes down to how each person interacts with the media they consume. are there people who appropriate and interact with anime inappropriately? yes absolutely. but there are others who don’t too.

and so even if this is an issue, we cannot address this issue to an entire community because we don’t know how each individual is thinking, and even if we did, (and this is very important) we cannot do a damn thing to change it other than to provide education.

push too hard, it goes nowhere. if someone isn’t ready to hear something or isn’t in the process of dismantling their own privileges and biases, it goes nowhere.

your discomfort is valid but there is nothing to do but continue to advocate and ask allies to do the same.

best of luck!

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Personally I like to believe that while Wrecker CAN absolutely devour anything you put in front of him, he's such a picky ass eater. He'll turn his nose to fancy food but eat dirt. It's insane. He'll do it for the bragging rights.

Crosshair WILL vomit if you don't cook things to his precise liking. He simply cannot control it. If his stomach doesn't like it, it's coming straight back out. Very delicate stomach. He will so test his limits if only to make his brothers feel bad/give him the nice desserts.

Hunter could eat steel. Dude, i don't know what his stomach is made of but they need it for GAR armour. He'll chew on plastic if you let him. On that note, if his drink is fizzy he'll spew. He can't handle anything other than flat, pristine water. Loser.

Tech is also very picky with both food and drink. His body won't REJECT the food, but don't expect him to enjoy it. He often packs his own snacks/drink and just doesn't bother with any strange stuff. He doesn't trust anything he doesn't handle himself- even his brothers can't feed him sometimes.

Echo simply doesn't care. If it's in front of him, he's eating it. He cried when he had Senate food for the first time. He savours every bite he can get. Will actually hiss and bite if you ask him to share. That's his food. Back away.

#sw the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #a draft while exams beat me within an inch of my life /hj