#then? at what point does a thing become too much of a barrier? i think there's a reason i dont run into many other dyslexic grad student.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#it's an old frustration. an old pattern of thought. #i just feel that i have a brain that doesn't hold information. that lacks the discipline to gain knowledge. that is incapable of deeper #thought. and i cant teel you how maddening that is. to sit in a room and listen to other people discuss a paper you read in depth 5 times #like it's the 1st time you ever heard anything about it. how is that possible? how do i work with that? i read and nothing sticks. #nothing stays with me. how??? i was talking to a prof recently who ive heard is hard on her students with disability accommodation. and she #was saying how she doesnt see these things as a disability. how we're just different not disabled. ive heard the phrase differently abled #a lot of times. and i get what she's saying. i do. ad i get why she's hard on them. she wants to push them. but there comes a point where #you are quote unquote differently abled and you run into a wall that other people dont have. then what are you supposed to do? work harder? #but what if that doesn't help? what if that just compounds the hurt that's always been there? what if that leaches away all the wonder? what #then? at what point does a thing become too much of a barrier? i think there's a reason i dont run into many other dyslexic grad student. #everyone has adhd. it's a place where those with adhd prosper. but dyslexia not so much. at least not with the level of hanicap i have #and everyone's really nice. they want to help. but there's nothing anyone can do for me at this stage. it's up to me to compensate for my #leaky head. and i kno im not stupid. ive got a piece of paper stating my iq is above average after correcting for uneven intelligence. but #i dont feel very smart most of the time. i feel more like my uncorrected iq score that comes out at just below average even with me trying #my very best. iq is bullshit but there's something to be said for that gap. im smart if unconstrained by language and time. but were bound #by language and we're bound by time so what am i supposed to do? is there anything i can do? im stuck with this forever. theres no getting #better or making it easier. my brain is wired in a way that gives me the reading skills of a child. forever. and i just have to accept that #and im trying to swallow around that idea easier because the only other option is to choke on it. but maybe i chose the wrong career path. #one of my lab mates said she wants challenges all the time and ive chosen a path that's challenges all the time but im jsut trying to do #what everyone else can without a second thought. it's deeply demoralizing. yet here i am. trying to be easier abt it. #maybe im just nit cut out for this. doing a job im not built for. #unrelated

[narcissistshandler]

giving miguel head while he explains complicated concepts of the multiverse. 😳 at first he chuckles when reader requests this, but he starts to struggle and lose track of what he was talking about. his voice becomes more desperate as he tries to explain all this stuff he knows to reader with his talons gripping at his love’s skull and his voice shaking and melting into pretty breathy moans until he can’t think of what he was talking about and instead fucks reader’s throat til he’s an overstimulated, sobbing mess

𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗖𝗛 𝗠𝗘

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 gn!reader x miguel o'hara

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 blowjob (reader giving), deep throat, slight overstimulation at the end, reader has no gender or genitalia mentioned, a little of blood

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 This was in my drafts for two weeks and honestly I don't remember what/how I wrote half of it, but still, this request was delicious

"—Are you listening to me?"

You blinked, seeming to come back to reality and looked into Miguel's judgmental brown eyes.

"I've been speaking Spanish for the last ten minutes," he continued before you had time to speak.

"I am," you insisted. Your first instinct was to lie. The truth was no, you weren't paying the slightest attention to any of all that complicated science and physics coming out of Miguel's mouth, even though from the beginning your focus hadn't left his lips framing every complex and long word, occasionally rising to appreciate that expression of concentration on his usually serious face that shouldn't be so erotic to anyone but you.

Miguel's eyes fell to your lap, as if he could see through the pillow you were holding, his brow immediately frowning in that way that indicated his bad mood.

"So what is the simple concept of what constitutes a Multiverse?" he questioned, sounding so much like a hot, strict teacher that you felt your sex throb in response, too distracted to even try to think of an answer. "What are the ways to overcome the barriers that separate our world from other universes?" Silence. "What happens when there is a divergence in events? Where does the variety of these universes originate?"

You knew the answer to some of these questions as someone who had heard more than enough about this subject: the multiverse was nothing more than the aggregate of parallel realities and bla bla bla. But that wasn't what Miguel wanted to hear, he wanted concise, long and scientifically coherent answers and that's why you preferred to keep your mouth shut.

"You weren't listening," he concluded with a sigh.

"Keep talking, I'll pay attention this time."

Miguel looked into your darkened eyes, noting the warm innuendo in your tone and then once again, his attention fell to the pillow that covered your lap. "You're excited," he observed, then continued seeming disgusted and irritated: "Why? Physics does that to you?"

“You do this to me,” you said. Miguel's expression seemed to become even darker. "You always seem so focused and intelligent while talking about these things I can't understand, it's sexy."

"You were the one who asked me to teach you, I didn't know this was a fantasy of yours," he pointed out.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," you asked soflty as you got up from the sofa where you sat next to Miguel and fell to your knees in front of his feet, your hands running up his bare legs until they slid under the hem of his shorts. "Continue teaching me, please? I promise I'll pay attention this time."

Miguel half growled at you, not seeming too willing to indulge in your fantasies even as his legs opened in pure muscle memory to give you room to fit between them and desire flashed in his eyes.

"How are you supposed to pay attention to what I say with my penis in your mouth? That doesn't seem like a very concise teaching method." Even with you kneeling in front of him on the floor of the apartment's living room, Miguel seemed genuinely concerned about teaching you some real knowledge about multiverse.

You rubbed your hand against the bulge in his shorts to bring him to hardness, laughing a little at how genuine Miguel was sometimes.

"You talk, I listen, then you can test me to see if I really learned something or not."

Miguel opened his mouth, looking ready to retort with some argument, but your fingers fitting into the elastic waistband of his shorts was enough to make him swallow back his words. “Okay,” he agreed finally, lifting his hips off the couch to let you pull his shorts down his legs and discard them on the floor.

"Without underwear?" You inquired teasingly, your fingers closing around Miguel's thick cock that was slowly getting hard for you and pulling him into slow, steady thrusts.

Miguel sighed at the sudden touch, a light blush coloring his cheeks at the teasing.

"Back to the beginning," he started to say, ignoring your words. "When we talk about the Multiverse, this refers to a conception of multiple universes or parallel realities existing simultaneously. Together, these universes are presumed to comprise everything that exists: the entirety of space, time, matter, energy..."

Your tongue trailed in a wet line from the base to the head, interrupting Miguel's speech as he trailed off with a soft sigh.

That usual satisfaction made you smile between the licks you dragged along his length, feeling the pulsation of the bulging veins against your tongue, your fingers keeping his dick firm at the base. Your lips parted, gently sucking the side of the bulbous, red head where drops of precum were beginning to leak.

Miguel let out the most beautiful moan, one of his hands falling into your hair.

“Oh,” he sighed softly, voice already falling into that deep tone that always did things to you. You looked up at the same time you slid your tongue over the slit leaking from his cock; Miguel's eyes met yours, warm and shining. He took a deep breath and continued speaking: "In the concept of multiverse, a scheme is imagined in which... all universes aggregate each other across an infinite vastness..."

He looked so composed even with your mouth on his dick and you wanted to break that composure of his until it became nothing, until his mind stopped working and the only coherent thought he had left was fucking your throat.

Miguel doesn't stop talking when your fingers tighten around his length in a grip that borders on painful and your mouth opens so you can take his length. His cock filled your mouth, the warm, smooth skin sliding over your tongue and inward in a delicious, welcome weight that made your skin tingle. Almost instinctively, you searched for more, leaning forward and taking him deeper, your free hand feeling Miguel's thigh muscles tense under your touch.

Saliva pooled in your mouth and as soon as you pulled your head back, spit slid down his length to his heavy balls and a wet line ran down your chin, a mess you knew Miguel liked. As expected, his breathing stuttered and you saw him losing his train of thought at the sight of your saliva-glossy lips stretching around the thickness of his dick.

"...In addition to the state superpos- superposition property, there are many other phenomena that occur as quantum-scale systems, such as quantum tunneling, quantum e-entanglement..."

The firm fingers tangled in the strands of your hair suddenly became sharper, like thick needles scratching your scalp. The threat of the grab hung in the air, filling your stomach with a tense heat as you realized they were Miguel's deadly talons, which could penetrate through the fragility of your skin in seconds and even an accidental scratch could draw blood. This realization shook you to the core and a moan rose in your throat.

"... So you can connect gravity and the other three forces in an apparently firm way?" he panted, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Dios mío."

It took you a few seconds to understand the jumbled words that came out of his mouth, but when you did you knew that you had achieved your objective, as the argument didn't seem to fit into any part of the multiverse theory.

Tears blocked the corners of your vision, jaw opening wider to take Miguel's cock deeper, the tip slapping against your cheek and tongue before going deeper, and then more and more. The salty taste of precum, sweat, and something else you could only describe as Miguel's taste rising in the back of your throat, clouding all your senses and pushing away the urgency burning between your legs. All that mattered was Miguel.

At that moment, your entire world was just Miguel's body contracting on the couch under the heat of your mouth, the heavy leg he had thrown over your shoulder and his heel digging into your shoulder blade in an attempt to bring you impossibly closer. There was a distinct feeling of discomfort growing in your body, Miguel's grip was strong and painful, his rationality seemed to have dissolved under the pleasure.

"[n-name] [name] [name] [name], por favor." The beautiful moans of your name in his voice echoed through the room in repeated, stammered repetitions.

The gag reflex kicked in, the bulbous head of Miguel's cock pressing past the tightness of your throat. Your eyes closed in an attempt to fight the immediate instinct to choke and suffocate, the desire to give Miguel everything he wanted was stronger. You willingly obeyed the grip of the talons on your head keeping you still, your mouth falling open and easy for the deep thrusts.

Resisting him, the urgency with which his hips undulated, as if he needed the pleasure to breathe, felt equal to having at least one pulled muscle and a deep cut left behind.

Fortunately, fighting him was far from your intention.

You could feel as his dick twitched inside your mouth and the thick, salty liquid filled your throat, which rose and fell as you swallowed. Your eyes opened, tears running down your cheeks, you closed your lips around Miguel's pulsing length, sucking. Miguel's reaction was lascivious, his thrusts becoming erratic, whole body shaking violently, his talons sinking at least a few centimeters into your skin, until it breaks under the pressure.

Hot liquid ran down the back of your neck, the pain was a distant thing in your warm body, your fingers digging into the soft skin of Miguel's thighs as you pressed the nose against the curly hair of his groin. Miguel whimpered as his cock continued to spurt small jets deep down your throat, tears glistening in his eyes and fangs sinking into the lower lip.

You had lied again, you hadn't paid attention to anything he said, but it didn't matter since you doubted that Miguel remembered what even was a subatomic particle now.

#x male reader #x gn reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse x gn reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv x male reader #atsv x gn reader #atsv x reader #atsv smut

[drdemonprince]

The article regarding about annoying queer people sparked a by now long forgotten memory.

When I went to my first pride I snuck out secretly and thus was there after the parade. Most people were already some form of drunk or high(didn't know that at the time, I was 15 and naive beyond hope)

That was also the first time I saw puppies ever. In retrospect I must have stared and seemed like one of those annoying "no kink at pride" puriteens. They probably just wanted to allow themselves a small joke but what happened in praxis was, that a grown, white man in only puppy mask and boxers crawled up to me, stood up, started sniffing my breasts and when I started panicking and running away he run after me and everyone else watched and laughed. I think I screamed for help or cryed to please leave me be and was ignored but I can't remember much past the fear.

To them it was probably a small joke but to me it set me back for years. I didn't go to pride in that city ever again and took years to move past "no kink at pride" opinions, an opinion I didn't even have before that.

I felt incredibly isolated and wearing a small rainbow bracelet and cutting my hair took so much bravery. And it earned a lot of backlash too?

So often I see coloured hair and pins as this cutesy cringe thing of no consequence, but for me it resulted in hours upon of arguments and insults. It was worth it, because it helped me built my own identity apart from my families bigotry, but it sure wasn't fun or cutesy. Ultimately it led me to becoming brave enough to actually discover who I am and start making connections with the wider queer community.

Thankfully I had no social media accounts or I would have had some truly stupid arguments.

What I'm saying is, yes young queers can be annoying and it can be tiring to deal with them but being an asshole and vilifying them isn't the solution.

Making fun of teenagers doesn't make yourself more valid and doesn't give you the status of being an old experienced queer.

I'm saying teenagers here but the fun thing about queer people is that we can discover ourselves at any point in time. So it's less teenagers and more people newly discovering themselves as queer.

I get how annoying they can be very well now, doing voluntary work at pride does that.

Do many of those we consider annoying queers hold some harmful opinions? Yeah sure. (The amount of white queers, teens or adults, not dealing with systemic oppression beyond their own is staggering and they more than deserve to be called out. Just to be very clear, when I talk about annoying behaviour I do NOT mean microagressions or discrimination in any way)

But annoying behaviour is not synonymous to that and maybe we should all just start being less mean in public spaces? I get how satisfying it can be to get a hit tweet via a bitchy twitter reply now, but quite honestly I am more ashamed of that now than when I was running around in hoodies and short hair being painfully naive.

Because then I wasn't being mean to anyone. I had some stupid takes sure but no outlet. On twitter I was making fun of people to validate my own queer-ness. (Personally I think I was covering up for the fact that I was afraid the queer people I worked so hard to be part of wouldn't consider me one of their own. So I worked hard to show how I'm not one of "those queers".)

Either way, thanks for reading all this and thank you for sharing the article because it is something I strongly agree with. Just let people be annoying without making fun of them for it. It doesn't need to be a big deal.

Thank you for this wonderful, vulnerable, honest message about your slow path to self-acceptance in the face of a lot of barriers, anon. I'm glad that despite everything you've found your way.

Yeah, I think queer people have many reasons to feel terrified at the rising "no kink at pride" discourse, but sometimes when we lash out at puriteens we sound a bit like the childfree people who say that they hate kids?? Like, we're blaming literal children for an ideology of protecting "The Family" that has been foisted upon us.

I'm guilty of it. I was HAUNTED by the social pressure to get married and pregnant and raise a bunch of kids. It caused me massive dysphoria and didn't jibe with my queer identity. But I rebelled against it for far too long by saying that I hated kids.

It was not the kids' fault! It was the ideological specter of The Family as an institution that isolates and attacks all nonconformity and 'deviant' sexuality! Me being an asshole to children was not gonna set me free, kids were even more disinfranchised than I was!! I don't think I was ever overtly cruel to children, just kind of aloof and freaked out by them, but I definitely *did* say some numbskulled shit to my friends with kids a few times. Completely missing how disempowered mothers (and it was usually mothers) are in society BECAUSE of these same forces .

And I think something similar is going on here. Queer people are tired of having "Family Friendliness" shoved down our throats by corporations and conservatives, and so then we lash out... at young queer people. it's fine to have 18+ areas and events; It's very, very important to me that spaces like Furfest have them. But that's not the same thing as claiming young people have no space in our community as a whole. And I do think we need to erode the barriers between the adult and child worlds in a whole lot of ways, and reorient our attitudes toward nudity, sexuality, roleplaying, etc in public life. but that also doesn't mean a pup should run you out of a pride parade actually fucking sexually harassing you.

It feels great to be able to talk about this stuff! Thanks for your message.

[evera-era]

heal me.

there’s a new medic in town, and ellie williams is about to find out who she is.

ellie williams x fem!reader, pt 2 here

warnings: fluff, mention of cuts/wounds, medical setting, suggestive themes. wc 1.3k

a/n: first time writing an ellie fic! if this does well i might post a second + third part <3

Ellie hated anything to do with doctors. She could take care of herself perfectly fine, she swears. But Dina witnessed her earning a nasty gash during a patrol, and wouldn’t shut up about it unless she got it checked out.

Word was that there was a new medic in town. Ellie’s pretty sure she’s seen you around Jackson. Walking around in those dumb white clothes, tending to everyone who needed you.

You’ve seen her too. Sneaking glances anytime you could. I mean, Ellie was pretty, and it was no big deal, right?

That is, until a flash of auburn hair ducks into the med clinic, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

Ellie clears her throat. “Uh… you guys are pretty much done for the night, right?”

She’s hoping you would say yes so she could just go back home and rest. Watch a movie, maybe. Have everyone fuck off and leave her alone.

You nod, clicking your pen, when you notice her clutching her side. “But I’ve got time for one more.”

You were on call, anyway, so your shift was never really over.

Fuck, she thinks. Ellie has always had trouble asking for help. She could take care of herself just fine. It didn’t help that you were so nice — nauseatingly so — but she figures that’s why you’re the town medic and she’s not.

“Follow me,” You add, motioning her over to the first room on the left. Even though meds were hard to come by, bandages were plentiful, and you weren’t gonna pass up the opportunity to tend to your crush.

Totally innocent crush.

“So, what was it?” You ask, eyes scanning over the girl as she takes a place on the edge of the hospital bed.

“Some fuckers we ran into, lone group. Nothing too serious... think they were looking to steal shit.” Ellie mutters. “But one took a swing at me and I fell on something sharp. My friend’s been bugging me to come here, get it checked out.”

Your conversation pauses as you take her vitals. Everything is in a normal range.

“The group…” You break the silence, looking down. “Are they a concern?”

“They’re gone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

You felt a light blush rise on your cheeks. Ellie was so strong, and brave. It showed, even in the way she just talks about her patrols.

You flit your eyes back up, trying to refocus. “So can I see? The wound?”

“Oh. Right.” Ellie’s fingers dip down to grab the hem of her shirt, and pull up. For a moment, you only see her toned stomach. You try not to get distracted.

Then you see the bandage under her ribcage.

Your fingers are gentle when they graze over the gauze. It’s a barrier, but Ellie swears it’s like you’re touching her directly. You move to peel it off of her.

Ellie absentmindedly sucks her breath in through her teeth. You whisper a small apology.

“It’s not… bad right?” She says after a moment. “I mean, I’ve had worse.”

She made a mental note to get onto Dina. This whole thing made her look like a fucking pussy.

“I’m sure you have,” You smile meekly, examining the cut. “No… not bad.”

After washing off your hands, you pull up a chair in front of Ellie. She watches you carefully as you sigh.

“Won’t need stitches, and no signs of infection.” You add. “But I can at least disinfect it and send you off with some new dressing.”

“I mean, it’s fine, I can—“

“No, let me.” You say quickly, cutting off her retort. “You’re already here, right?”

Ellie opens her mouth, then closes it. You had a point. She merely nods instead.

You reach down for the bucket of clean water. When you come back up, you notice Ellie has removed her shirt completely. The only thing clinging to her upper body is a flimsy sports bra.

“Oh,” You all but whisper accidentally.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

The rag becomes stained as you wipe the area. A few swishes, and the water in the bucket has turned a cloudy mahogany.

“So… your friend,” You add. “Was it Dina?”

Ellie raises her eyebrows slightly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“She must really care about you.” You say quietly. It takes Ellie a moment to realize what you’re implying. She’s quick to answer.

“Oh, yeah. Not like that anymore, though. It’s… just friends now.”

You take that as confirmation that their relationship ended. And even though in a way you were happy to find out Ellie is now single, it would be rude not to apologize.

“Oh.” You mumble. “Sorry.”

She looks down. “It’s cool.”

You disinfect the wound with some alcohol before applying new dressing with gentle fingertips. You smile up at the brunette.

“Good as new.”

She feels herself smiling back. She wants to kick herself; she didn’t even wanna be here in the first place. But now it doesn’t feel like a mistake after all.

“Thanks,” She says. Her gaze has softened.

You grab something out of the cabinet. Ellie realizes it’s fresh bandages when you outstretch your hand to her.

“So, just… use these. Every couple hours, change it out, till it scabs over. If you ever need more you know where to get it.”

Ellie knows this. But she realizes that she likes hearing you talk, so she thinks of something else to ask.

“Uh, and how do I know what to look for? If I have an infection?”

“Oh,” You say. “Here, lay back. I’ll show you.”

Something about the way you’re hovering over Ellie has her stomach fluttering. You were so tentative. Why hadn’t she tried to talk to you sooner?

“Gotta check it everytime you change your dressing. If it smells weird, or feels hot…”

Your fingers trace over her body yet again. Her eyes are stuck on you, the way your hair falls into your face. The way your lips move to explain everything. Not to mention how soft your skin felt on hers.

She thought the whole “hot nurse” trope was something that only happened in movies. It was pretty clear now that she was wrong.

“Got it?”

“What?”

Shit. She wasn’t listening.

“Do you get it now?” You repeat, looking down at Ellie.

She blinks before propping herself up with her elbows. “Uh… yeah. Think so.”

You smile again, leaning back so you’re no longer positioned over her. You take your place against the counter.

Ellie didn’t hear a word. But she’ll make the effort now to be extra gentle with herself, because of you. If that’s worth anything.

Silence fills the room once again as Ellie pulls her shirt back over her head. You sneak in one last glimpse before she’s fully clothed.

“If something changes you can always come back and see me.” You add with a breathy laugh. “I’m in here, like, all the time.”

“Oh yeah?” She asks, looking up at you. “I’ll have to stop by again sometime, then.”

Your heart skips a beat. Is she trying to flirt with you? No, it’s probably nothing.

You clear your throat. “Hopefully not under these circumstances.”

“Right,” She says. Her eyes widen as she realized she’s extended her stay. “I’ll, um… I’ll go. Get out of your hair.”

Ellie’s never used that expression before. She nearly facepalms. So stupid.

But then you laugh a little, and it’s such a beautiful sound when it hits her ears.

“I don’t mind.” You add bashfully. “But… you need to rest and get better. Go back to kicking ass, all that stuff.”

Ellie feels her face wanting to turn red again. You were so sappy, and shameless with it. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, really. She didn’t think people like you even existed at all anymore.

She merely hums, unable to find the right words to say. If she sticks around any longer, she might actually develop feelings for you as if she hasn’t already. So she opts to bid you goodbye.

“Well… see you around.”

You nod, watching her head for the door. You hold the clipboard to your chest in an effort to soften your heartbeat.

“Night, Ellie.”

— part two

#ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #tlou2 fanfic #ellie tlou2 #the last of us

[fineghkst]

Cards

summary: azriel shows you exactly what you will miss if you break up with him.

warnings: minors don’t interact (only 18+); smut; break up sex; oral receiving; shadow play

english if not my first language so let me know if you find any mistakes

It has been hours since you decided to break up with Azriel. When you finally said the words to the spymaster and he looked at you with an indescribable expression.

Things between you weren't going so well lately. He was absent, always busy with the missions Rhysand sent him. Azriel suddenly didn’t have more time for you. He wasn’t there at your birthday, wasn’t with you when you finally beat Cassian at during a competition of a card game you were addicted to and, of course, he forgot about your anniversary.

You tried to understand that he was working too much, tried to talk to Azriel and solve everything, but it wasn’t enough. Even if you didn’t want to let him go, you couldn’t date someone who practically wasn’t a part of your life anymore.

So you ended it and felt your heart explode in a million pieces while you stared at his expression turn into something desperate. He’s eyes becoming more tired than you thought it was possible, like his pain were leaking from them.

Countless thoughts crossed your mind before finally talking to him. What would be his reaction? How would you act around each other after the break up? Would he fight for you?

None of them came close to guessing this would happen.

After the discussion you started, with him questioning what he could possibly do to change your mind, he found himself defeated. You had made your decision.

Of course, the attraction you felt for Azriel always seemed to overcome barriers of logic. At some point a thought passed through your mind that maybe you could be mates, but the bond never snapped.

To be honest, if someone asked how Azriel ended between your legs, you wouldn’t know how to explain.

Even with a concrete decision made, of course Azriel would play dirty, showing exactly what you’d miss if you weren’t together.

— Are you enjoying this, love? — Azriel said, finally stopping his tongue from moving on your core. He had his arms around your legs, holding you open for him — I hope you are, because this is the last time you will ever feel me.

A senseless moan left your mouth, disapproving that he stopped to eat your pussy and was talking such things.

Azriel laughed, leaving a small hickey on your tights.

— Hm… since you made your mind and there’s nothing to convince you to come back to me, I bet you thought about this part, right? Never touching me again…

His shadows started to surround your skin, lightly stroking your legs like a ghost touch.

— Never feeling my shadows playing with you… — You whimpered with the thought. No one would ever know how to touch you like he does. — What’s wrong, love? Didn’t you prepare yourself for that?

Azriel moved away from your legs and the shadows grabbed them, replacing Azriel’s hands. He stared at you with something… primal in his eyes. His huge wings half opened and his defined muscles showing. Cauldron, Azriel was so beautiful that you felt like your brain was severely damaged to even think about breaking up with him.

— If you don’t want me anymore, why you’re so wet? Why did you agree so fast to have a last fuck with me? — The spymaster said, still staring you while his shadows begun to stimulate your clit. You could see the possessiveness in his look.

— Azriel… please — A moan escaped your mouth.

— Please what, love?

— Just… just fuck me.

— Why should I do that? — He chuckled.

— I need you, Az. Please. I don’t want to leave you.

— So you’re changing your mind this quick? But you looked so committed to your decision earlier… that’s a shame.

His shadows accelerated the movements, taking you to heaven and back. You were so close to having an orgasm that it was impossible to form a congruent thought.

— S-stop punishing me. — You whined

— Again, I don’t see any reason to — Azriel had a smirk on his face. He was playing with you until you become completely desperate for him, with your brain almost completely empty and the only thing left was his name.

Azriel was succeeding in his goal and he knew it.

— Unless you give me one good reason, love — The smirk turned into a grin. Azriel keep observing his shadows stimulating you, which were moving faster now — Because, honestly, you don’t deserve to have me inside you.

You tried to reply, but it was too much. His shadows were taking you beyond your limits, slithering against your clit. Only incoherent moans left your mouth. It didn’t take long for finally reaching an orgasm.

Azriel never had let you cum with his shadows, he always stopped them and ended the job himself. However, today, the spymaster were playing all his cards, showing exactly how much pleasure he could give you.

Even if Azriel still wearing his pants, you could see the huge painful bonner he had. But he kept his distance, watching you squirm with his fierce eyes. Anyone could say how much he was craving for you, how he wanted to fuck you senseless.

— So… do you have a good argument for me, love?

— I-I…

— I’m listening.

— I just want to feel like you truly desire me, Az — You confessed, trying to normalize your breathing. The shadows loosen the grip around your thighs.

Azriel stared at you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

— What to you mean, love? You really think I don’t want you?

— You barely have time for me, for us. I understand you’re working a lot since the end of the war with Hybern, but I need you to see me, Az. — You pulled the sheets, covering your body.

— I’m sorry, love. — He said, finally breaking the distance between you two and supporting his arms between your body, firming his hands on the sheets. Azriel’s face was so close from yours, allowing you to feel his breath against it — I didn’t realize I was making you feel like this. But I need to be clear: I will always want you and see you. I desire, crave for you so hard that sometimes I can swear I’m going insane. Let me prove it that I’m mean it, princess.

Giving him a small hesitant nod, feeling your insecurities dissipate slowly, Azriel kissed you deeply as his hands took the sheets away from your body, letting you complete exposed to him. His hard cock was pressing against your bare pussy, making you grind. It was impossible not to moan considering how sensitive you were after the orgasm.

— No, princess. Don’t be greedy. — Azriel said, moving away to finally unbutton his pants.

His hard cock jumped out and he didn’t think twice before claiming your mouth again, feeling you whimpering against his tongue while his fingers touched your nipples. With the other hand, Azriel held his cock and pushed inside you.

— Fuck, you always take me so well, princess. — He groaned, increasing his pace — You have no idea how much I missed to feel you around my cock.

He put his shadows back in action, making them play with your nipples. Azriel pinned your wrists beyond your head with one hand, while the other got down to your clit.

— Az — You moaned loud.

— You love when my shadows tease you like that, don’t you? — Your walls started to clutch around his cock. Azriel growled, thrusting deeply — Maybe I let they play with you more from now.

You squirmed with the idea of feeling them guiding you through pleasure.

— Remember, love. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. — He whispered, approaching his mouth to your ear — And you’re only mine.

Azriel kept moving inside you until you finally felt a wave of pleasure dominate your body. The spymaster didn’t take long to cum inside you, filling your inside.

He stood in and looked to your eyes, both of you breathless.

— I love you. And I’m truly sorry I made you doubt about my feelings — Azriel said, stroking your hair gently as his shadows retreated, caressing your skin before disappearing. The spymaster moved away, giving a small kiss at your forehead.

— I love you too, Az. — You said — I’m sorry I broke up with you. And just to make clear, I don’t want to.

— I deserved it and I’m relieved to know you changed your mind. — Azriel got up and disappeared through the door for a few minutes, coming back with a towel to clean you up. — I won’t let work getting between us anymore, I’m talking to Rhysand tomorrow. He must find a way to solve everything without me.

Azriel lifted the sheets, covering both of you and pushed you to his chest, stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar smut #azriel smut #azriel drabble #bat boys x reader #bat boys smut

[stllmnstr]

breathing room — a lee heeseung drabble

2.5k / enemies to lovers

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing.

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal properly.

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat.

Yours, to be exact.

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining. 

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously. 

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead. 

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival. 

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more. 

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet. 

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat. 

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory. After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter. 

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us a both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel. 

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well. 

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave. 

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own. 

He was a tool, in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks. 

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry. At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you. 

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush. 

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring. 

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in. 

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders. 

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way. 

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh. 

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence. 

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit. 

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon, tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks. Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face. 

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else. 

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility. 

You don’t miss. You never do. 

It still feels like defeat. 

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you. 

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer. He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse. But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck. 

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing. 

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body. 

You need a break. 

He needs an in. 

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat. 

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be? 

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes. 

Another. 

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you. 

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below. 

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall, but suddenly find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless. 

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits. Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him. 

You don’t. 

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway  as a sliver of skin is revealed. 

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone. 

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own. 

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area. 

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol. 

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?” 

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been. 

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful. 

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to be told twice.

#heeseung fanfic #heeseung drabble #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #heeseung fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x you

[borzoilover69]

Something that gets me everytime I think about the harlenglishes is how incredibly harsh they are on themselves, incredibly self critical. The simple fact that the majority of the fandom writes them off as silly little guys does a number on me.  I want you to take a look at these two pieces of text. Both of them are from where Jade and Jake are having a moment, and using proxies to voice their thoughts. Notice how they react to themself being upset. ( Jade is herself, Dirk is Jakes apparition of Dirk, aka BGD ) 

Jade and Jake put others over themselves and think they’re seeing the bigger picture when they’re not. They’re incredibly isolated kids trying to appear relatively normal. They’re incredibly judgmental, and therefore feel judged, and put up massive barriers and walls to hide it all from their friends and subsequently first time readers because they never directly mention or call attention to it!  They break down incredibly messily because they bottle it all up to deal with in private later!

Jake is so incredibly hard on himself, and so is Jade. They grit their teeth and smile because they feel incredibly selfish for having messy feeling moments. And the thing is, they can be incredibly selfish! They are looking out constantly for what’s best for everyone, and sometimes it’s not what the others think!  That’s what’s so tragic, is because when they do break down so messily, they beat themselves up for it. Look here: 

These are both screenshots of them telling, no, demanding that they toughen up and do what “needs to be done”. But finding themself unable to because they’re so overcome with emotion. It’s especially interesting in Jakes case because he uses his best friend as a proxy to do a mental fucking cartwheel and hype himself up but also to cut through his bullcrap with the one friend that he believes saw him truly, that he believed understood himself, which is why in part BGD is so uncomfy for him! Because it’s just the uncomfortable truths or thoughts he wouldn’t admit to himself in his own skin! Jake is a master of deception, and this is just one of his outlets!

I’m never getting over how terrible BGD was to Jake while he was breaking down, or how Jade yelled and screamed at herself when she was reincarnated as a sprite. A lot of people use BGD as a merit to point out that DirkJake is abusive, since he’s one of the splinters we see Jake actively talk to, but what they don’t get is that BGD is just Jake thinking to himself “What would Dirk think? What would Dirk say?” and believing it so truly that it can on instance become realities! Dirk isn’t really like this, he may be a bit clingy, but Jake acknowledges that in conversation with Roxy, and is moreso concerned rather than upset about it. In the prison cell with BGD, it’s just Jake berating himself under the guise of what his best friend on what he SHOULD do, versus what he wants to do. Because Jake questions himself constantly. 

Jake very much relies on social awareness even though he can be pretty bad at it. So if he believes his friends have an image of him, he will be daunted by how to live up to it, and if he believes his friends hate him, his thoughts and BGD will reflect that. Hes essentially created a remote echo chamber to amplify his own thoughts, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. 

The harlenglishes just can’t cope with knowing. They minimise their messy and not proper emotions to try and be the bigger person and do what’s right, even if it’s incredibly unhealthy, and it just ends up in a big knot of feeling incredibly overcome by emotions, and also incredibly frustrated they can’t live up to their own expectations and thus looping to fueling hte emotions. Jake is incredibly self aware and immensely critical for just being a kid. Jade is incredibly self aware and is hard on herself ever since her grandfather died and I think Jake was too in a way.

#homestuck #hom3stuck #homestuck meta #jake english #jade harley #jade hs #jake hs #everyday i wake up #sobs and punches wall #borzoi talks #borzoi meta

[heartfullofleeches]

I bet it sends Flo’s undead heart racing whenever they manage to get a rise out of werewolf bodyguard reader and see those sharp teeth bared in anger for just a moment before they regain their composure… of course, Flo seems like the kind of person to keep pushing even after that 🤭… the brat (affectionate)

also, with Flo’s hair covering their eyes and being a bat, does she have bad vision and use echolocation? Think it’s cute if she needs glasses/contacts but doesn’t wanna wear them ‘cause she thinks it’s uncool/just too lazy to remember to put in and take out contacts all the time 🥰

-Doe

"What part of stay put do you not understand?..."

Sitting at the venue bar, a groupie hanging off each arm - Flo has the nerve to act surprised that you've come to drag them back where they need to be. "What's the big deal? Just havin' a drink with my pals here. Since when did that become a crime?"

"It becomes a crime when you have show in less than thirty minutes - and when you drink so much l you attack someone and end up in jail, again."

"Hey, relax - I totally get it now.... You're jealous."

"Fluonia." Their name rolls off your tongue like venom. "This isn't the time for games. Get out of that chair and back in your dressing room or else."

"Pfft- or else what? You gonna drag me there?"

Your eyes narrow - the blacks of your gums flashing from your snarling lips. You grab hold of their left arm, thick coat acting as a barrier between her fragile flesh and your pointed claws as you yank him from his seat. The rockstar swallows thickly as you hiss in their ear.

"Kicking and screaming if I have to."

As annoying as hair in their face could get, Flo was grateful for their haircut in times like this as it hid majority their face and outwardly expression. The weakness and submission in their eyes masked by a defiant grin - she'd die on the spot if you ever knew how whipped you had truly her.

The stench of alcohol and the metallic tinge of blood rolls of his tongue as he barks out a laugh. "You know.... If you wanted me all alone so bad - you could've just asked.

-

Flo is most certainly blind as the bat she is. Refuses to wear glasses because they're for squares and orders Reader around as her seeing eye dog (another reason he makes Reader carry him around). Fifty percent of the time she's crowd surfing is because their dumbass tripped over something and stumbled into the crowd. They do use echolocation more often when Reader's not around, but she prefers busting their skull open walking into or tripping over things and pleading for reader to kiss their boo-boos like the attention vampire he is.

#Flo my oc #yandere vampire #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere #yandere hybrid #yandere drabble

[kayas-kosmos]

Autism Symbol Dragon.

This is the autism symbol as a dragon. I did this to represent the influence my autism has on my art. This is a public domain drawing and anyone can use it for any reason.

I really like the infinity autism symbol over all others, especially the Godawful puzzle piece. It really encapsulates the diversity of our community and how unique every autistic individual is. But I wanted to do a little spin on it by turning it into a dragon to add some extra meaning. A dragon to me is the symbol of the imagination itself, since dragons are so diverse in of themselves and can look like or represent anything. But as well as imagination, I think the dragon also represent resilience and a ferocious passion.

My webcomic is absolutely full of different types of dragon. Here are just a few examples:

(Can you tell dragons are one of my special interests?)

I was diagnosed at about 3 and I've had a very mixed relationship with being autistic until recently. There was a time when I really hated having to bear the label of “autistic” and tried for years to erase that part of me because of the stigma. Being an artist allowed me to get away with being a bit weird because I could chalk it up to just being "an eccentric artist," but there was also the side of me that needed extra accommodations and help, the less glamorous side. I would often push myself to be as neurotypical as I could in these areas and I developed a debilitating fear of becoming a burden on others, to the point where it started damaging my mental health. Eventually, I developed panic attacks due to overworking myself (and struggles with accepting myself as queer), autistic shutdowns became more frequent and this lead to further humiliation and a further disgust towards my autism.

It wasn't until I became a freelancer a few years ago that I realised how much damage trying to hold myself to neurotypical standards was having on me. While being able to work remotely was a dream since it meant not having to deal with the sensory nightmare that is using the local bus service, it also meant I experienced autistic burnout more frequently. Then I came across the autistic community on Twitter, where I started to discover so much about myself and how my brain works.

I also made a lot of incredible friends through this and even had the courage to publicly come out as queer. Now I fully embrace being autistic, even the parts that society deems “unacceptable” like stimming and not making eye contact. I am happy in who I am and no longer see myself as a burden.

Sadly, there is often a discussion about whether autism should be cured or not, a discussion that should absolutely not be happening because autism is not a disease. If you "cured" my autism, you would also remove my art. My art and my autism are inseparable and one does not exist without the other. Autism has given me the ability to think outside the box and traits like my monotropism allow me to hyperfocus on a project until its completion. Having spoken to many autistic creatives throughout my life, a good chunk of our struggles do not come from being autistic itself, rather society’s refusal to accept or accommodate us. Many of us could achieve great things and truly innovate society, but there are too many systemic barriers in the way preventing us from doing so, and no amount of “hard work” or “conquering our disability” (fuck inspiration porn, seriously) can change that because individualistic solutions do not fix systemic problems. Simple solutions such as disability benefits that actually properly cover our living costs, a higher wage for carers of disabled people and proper work accommodations (including the option for remote work) would mean the world of difference for us.

Now personally, I am a bit more radical in my thinking and I believe the current system of Neoliberal Capitalism needs to be done away with entirely because ableism is built into Capitalism itself. This is what has drawn me to ideas such as anarchism and the Solarpunk movement. In particular, I try to live by the "12 principles of Permaculture" to the best of my ability. I think "Embrace Diversity" and "Produce No Waste" can be applied to living as a disabled person, since disabled people are often seen as a waste product under this system and embracing our differences means we are not wasted.

For those of you who have followed me for a while, you may have noticed that my art, like me, is weird. I love to embrace the weird and the quirky. My creatures are whimsical and bizarre. My characters all tend to be quirky outsiders. I have always been drawn to surrealism and absurdism, the work of Salvador Dali in particular really caught my attention.

Art has always been a safe way for me to explore the unusual and alien, and it has been a voice for me when speaking words fail. I use it to explore the things that frighten me and to help process a chaotic world. As weird as my art is, I think the weirdness and absurdity is a reflection of how weird and absurd our modern world is and how little sense it makes to me anymore.

There are often themes of environmentalism and the profound beauty of nature, influenced heavily by growing up in an area of natural beauty. Furthermore, the theme of "empathy for monsters" is a personal favourite. Maybe the reason why there are so many weird, twisted and grotesque monsters and creatures with tragic backstories in my webcomic universe is because I see myself in them - just weird little off-putting things that want compassion and to be understood.

As I have grown as a person, so has my art. The more I learn about my autism, the more I can open up and the better I can express myself.

On a final note, if you would like to support me and the work I do, please consider donating a Ko-Fi. It would really help me push towards my goal of finally launching my webcomic, plus it would also allow me to talk more about important topics surrounding disability, sustainable living and art/creature stuff.

Happy new year, everyone! And especially to all of my autistic and neurodivergent comrades out there.

#autism #actually autistic #neurodivergent #queer autistic #autistic artist #fantasy artist #digital artist #fantasy illustration #autism symbol #infinity symbol #creature design #dragon art #dragon artist #autistic art #autism art #permaculture #solarpunk

[setsugekka]

❥project d (m)

↳ With a nice enough guy who’s just a little too rough around the edges for your parents liking, and a best friend who put you up to him (albeit a tad unknowingly), surely things can’t possibly get more complicated for the local illegal street racing squad.

Except, between racing for pink slips and bragging rights, there’s Emperors leader, Jeong Yunho.

kim hongjoong x fem!reader / jeong yunho x fem!reader — Initial D/street racing!au, unresolved romantic tension, exes to lovers, infidelity, angst, explicit sexual content [20.5k wc] cws: themes of smoking, drinking, & cheating throughout. the person getting cheated on is a scumbag!! mild physicality from a man to reader and more than mild physicality between two men ❱ light dom/sub dynamics in the beginning, penetrative sex (no barrier method), creampie, light choking, themes of possessiveness throughout, dirty talk, risky sex, public sex, oral sex (m).

“Ignore it.”

A simple enough request to oblige as Hongjoong's hand stretches out and over your body towards the side of you where your phone resides, only conveniently tossed there out of haste upon things between the two of you getting the better of you.

History getting the better of you.

Two, three more vibrations of the call alert cycle before it finally quiets, the man next to you hums with his face pressed into the pillow just before turning to face you with a devilish grin — as if a man having just won a prize, of sorts.

Perhaps he had done just that, at least, in this moment in time.

“I can't ignore him forever,” you sigh, back against the mattress and staring up towards the dingy, unpainted ceiling of this particular hotel that you and Hongjoong had become all too accustomed to.

The scent of far-from-fresh linens and a mixture of cigarette and other such smoke cascading through the small room — far from allowed but in a place like this, and for the rate that it goes for, it's what you'd expect. Housekeeping will do what they can, but there's only so much.

It's clean enough, but more than that, it's private. Part of you wishes coming here with him made you hate yourself as much as you think it's supposed to, because maybe then you'd stop.

“He's my boyfriend, after all.”

“He's a fucking tool,” he groans, finally sitting up beneath a single layer of white sheet and reaching to his left off of the side of the bed for his pants — long since discarded and not long after the two of you had arrived, at that. You can only presume the man to be reaching for his cigarettes, and unsurprised when it's precisely what comes into your line of vision as he sits back with his back against the headboard to light it — you watch him, every movement he makes no matter how small or unimportant it may seem. Taking in the details of him: short, platinum bleached hair with his fingernails painted black — two or three chipped, from what you can tell — and most likely from working on his car at some point over the week. “Who cares what he thinks? When are you going to leave him, anyways?”

“It's not that simple,” you answer, under your breath and slightly dejected at the turn the conversation has taken.

Because you know that you should feel bad, and yet you don't, but the fact that you don't sort of does do the trick. You wonder how terrible one has to be to falter morally to such a degree.

“I care about him.”

“The fuck you do,” Hongjoong bites back with a snort through his nose, smoke pushing out and towards the sheet that remains pooled around his waist. “If you did, you sure as shit wouldn't be here right now.”

Rolling your eyes and turning from him finally, it's likely that he's right. Somewhere, somehow, surely that is the only logical explanation.

But as complicated as things may be with your boyfriend, they're just as, if not more so, with the man next to you.

Goodbye's are hard, it's half of the reason people do everything in their power to avoid them.

Even to their own detriment.

“Don't be mad at me,” he adds, noticing the way you pull your eyes from him. “You wouldn't be fucking your ex still if things we're all sunshine and roses back at home. That's just the facts.”

“Do you have to do this tonight?” you say with a groan, turning back and onto your side to face away from him. It's then that you feel Hongjoong stir from behind, putting his cigarette out into a beer bottle on the nightstand and settling back down lengthwise along the bed, with the flesh of his chest pressed against your bare back. With one hand of his trailing down the exposed flesh and settling at the small of your back as fingers curl up and around the dip of your hip, you sigh into the feeling of his touch, once again starkly aware of how undressed you are once again, and how this will likely result in him fucking you for the second time tonight.

“I miss you,” he whispers after a while, lips ghosting gently across your exposed shoulder as he plants kisses there between words. “Leave him.”

“And do what? get back together with you?” you answer suddenly, with a tad bit more snip than you had really intended, but feeling the way his fingernails begin to curl into the skin of your waist, you need not worry about the reception of the response.

Chances are, he probably likes it.

The words come out so quietly that you can barely even hear them over the sound of the long since ignored television, only really used to help drown out the pathetic sounds of you succumbing to this man once again. “Do whatever you want, just not him.”

It's a weird sense of foreplay, the way that the two of you engage in conversations about the man in question — your partner — always seeming to get Hongjoong riled up sexually in some sort of sick, twisted way that you can't quite fathom — possibly the possession, possibly some sense of having won something over the man every time you agree to meet him like this — two competitors who have long since been rivals for far too long, with too much bad blood and no end in sight, either.

So when you left Hongjoong, and shortly after started dating Yunho, it was a punch to the gut and the ego — seemingly only quelled by the joy of having you cum around his dick a couple of times a week unbeknownst to the other party.

Shifting slightly, as if wanting to maintain some air of innocence and coincidence to it all — pressing your behind back and against him only to find that what greets you is a familiar hardness — Hongjoong's kisses into your shoulder intensify, nips and suction against the flesh where he had previously been ever so innocuously been touching.

Giving into him never was difficult, you wonder if you'll ever have control over yourself with him.

Hand slipping down to position himself better against you, the whimper that leaves your lips as he presses back inside of you for the second time that night is pitiful — grin forming across his mouth as he hears the utterance of you once again allowing yourself full compliance for him — his hand comes back up to snake along your side as he gently rocks into you, first settling for a moment atop your breast to thumb over the nub before continuing the journey up and around your throat to hold there tightly as he picks up his pace with a grunt into your ear from behind.

“You're mine, right?” Words echoing from his mouth and into your ear from just next to it, your body involuntarily clenching down around him giving you away more than anything you could say ever could — Hongjoong squeezing tighter around your throat at the feeling of you submitting to him in all of the same ways that he's always liked, that you've always liked — a game the two of you would often play deep within the throes of your romantic relationship. “You always came the hardest when I acted like I owned you.”

“Joong—“ another pitiful whimper at the sound and feeling of him encompassing you, especially given that he's right in his assessment of you.

Hand leaving your throat and continuing up again, two fingers prying between your lips to press into your mouth and lie flat against your tongue, Hongjoong's pace into hastens, fucking you harder than even the time earlier in the night — obviously with something to prove, now — some sort of motivation behind his actions; jealousy, angry, hatred.

The animalistic desire to have and own and need, perhaps.

“He fuck you like I do?” he finally asks in spite of already knowing the answer. There's a reason you keep coming back. “Know everything you like the way I do? Make you cum as hard as I do?”

And with fingers shoved deep into your mouth you can only groan at the words as your body threatens to release you from the contempt of a building orgasm — Hongjoong surely feels it with the way he slows and stills deep inside of you with a whine from you.

“Didn't say you could cum yet, did I?”

It's all you can do to beg for it, grinding back and against him for any sense of friction that will hopefully tip you over the edge that he's not allowing for you. Hot breath scented like cheap beer and cigarettes pressed into the shell of your ear as he holds your body flush tight against his as if to now even allow you the ability to escape his grasp — not that you'd want to, or have any intention to — but rather for what it represents to him.

That yes, this is a game that the two of you engage in consensually, but perhaps deep down for him, a confession of sorts, as well.

Hongjoong pulls his hand from your lips to quickly wrap it against your throat again, ever so slowly withdrawing his cock from you and almost completely before delivering you back an even more tortuously slow drive back inside — so slow that you feel as though you can feel every dip and curve and bulge of his shaft against your walls — the two of you don't play like this so much anymore since the dissolving of your relationship, and Hongjoong's willingness to reintroduce it now feels pointed and a bit like a man rushing to grasp a hold of something that he feels as though he's losing completely.

The break up wasn't on bad terms, and certainly appeared far from devastating to Hongjoong from what you could tell. He did start drinking more, though, and racked up a hefty DUI about a week after.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod quicker than you think the words finish leaving his mouth, much to his amusement. Hongjoong repeats yet another frustratingly slow drive into you as he sets the condition for your orgasm.

“Tell me whose it is,” he groans, the warm hug of your pussy pulling on him equally as much but far more able to maintain his cool. “Who owns it, who does it belong to, baby?”

a sharp inhale, breathing still constricted by his hand keeping you firmly in place and against him, and with a heavy exhale you say the words he's been looking for since the conversation started.

“You, it's yours, I'm yours— fuck, Joong, please—“

You can't see it, but you can feel the curl of his lips against your ear as he grins at the breathy admission, kissing you delicately against your temple twice before whispering how well you've done and how good you are as he picks his pace back up. A handful of hard, pointed thrusts back into you and you come undone around him all over again — the tight squeeze of you subsequently bringing him to his orgasmic demise just after as he buries cock as deeply as he can to cum inside of you.

And one of your favorite things about the man — your too-wild-to-ever-meet-the-parents ex-boyfriend who drives the custom paint maroon RX-7 — is how no matter how insane he is, he's always kind and loving to you. so, as Hongjoong gently pulls himself from you, raining kisses on every inch of exposed flesh he can manage to get his mouth on, the only words spilling from his mouth being those of praise; how good you are, how beautiful you are, how amazing you are — some times, you think he might slip and tell you he loves you in such raw, intimate times.

And sometimes, you wonder why it is the two of you ever did break up.

Phone vibrating again, the screen illuminating to show once again for your boyfriend to be attempting to get a hold of you, you feel Hongjoong still from behind you as he catches notice before rolling back and away from you and most likely, in search of another cigarette.

Picking the device up, with a tone small and shy but with an attempt at playfulness, you dare make the attempt at a joke on the matter. “Can I answer it now?”

But with silence following shortly after as the vibration cycle carries on, you're met with the sound of a lighter flickering once, twice, three times — before an exhale, then a voice laden with smoke and maybe even a hint of disappointment, if you look hard enough.

“Do whatever you want.”

Getting into the illegal street racing thing wasn't exactly something you had in mind, and truthfully, sometimes you had a difficult time tracing back just when it had started with the way things took off in a bit of a whirlwind.

It's particularly due to the fact that you're not a racer yourself, that sometimes has you standing roadside at meets, contemplating the how's and why's of your whereabouts. With no interest in purchasing a project of your own, it started as a sort of hobby interest of yours and Chaerin's — your best friend of six years with a bit of a penchant for trouble as the years progressed. Never anything substantial or too risky — no drugs beyond the extremely rare instance, no theft — and sure, the illegal street racing thing in and of itself being of legal dubiety, it's not the worst thing a girl in her early twenties could find herself wrapped up in, that's for sure.

Besides, Chaerin had a bit of a respectable eye for partners. Boyfriends leaning far into the realm of honest and endearing, even upon dating within the circle of cars, the sort of 'bad boy' reputation for them that one would likely assume upon hearing of teams of men engaging in such activities in the dead of night — while occasionally true, after two or three tag along’s of yourself with your friend, you'd quickly come to realize that the majority of them were simply guys. Nothing special or out of the ordinary, most working through college and probably a bit more than they have to in order to fund their rather expensive hobby, some rich, trust fund kids with no issues affording whatever it was that they wanted to soup up their cars with — and when the dust had eventually settled, it was of little shock to yourself that you ended up somewhere in between.

You remember the night as if it was yesterday, only a year or so back at most anyways, Chaerin explicitly informing you that he was to be played with, and not locked down.

It seemed easy enough when you met Kim Hongjoong, at least.

A little rough around the edges being an understatement: handsome and from a rich family now a couple of years estranged but still not entirely cut off from the family wallet, sometimes you could swear that you could still make out the ways in which his sheltered, prissy upbringing that he had long since attempted to bolt down under lock and key would come through — a heavy smoker, a lighter drinker, and now stuck living in a ratty apartment just a ways out of town with his teammate, Seonghwa.

So, you had agreed, because most certainly this wouldn't be the kind of man you'd fall for, anyways. A girl has needs, however, and you quickly found Hongjoong to be more than willing to go above and beyond for them in more ways than one would likely consider to be present in a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. His willingness to do any and everything you desired sexually, evolving into exploration of sorts, you found that it happened almost naturally in the way he would begin staying over some nights instead of running home, bringing you dinner before playtime turning into going out together for dinner, and when Chaerin began noticing you showing up to car meets from the passenger side of Hongjoong's RX-7, albeit not entirely pleased with the development, she wasn't necessarily against it, either.

Your parents on the other hand, were an entirely different story.

If Hongjoong came off as rough around the edges to yourself, you could only imagine how he came off to your parents, and after one dinner with all of you together, the imagining was no longer necessary — spending the better part of an hour tearing into you about your choice in men; how Hongjoong was going nowhere in life, a deadbeat with no aspirations, a smoker, a drinker, and despite having not disclosed it, father dearest pulling no punches in just what it was that he thought about the whole illegal street racing thing.

A point of contention in what had naturally and easily transformed into a relationship with the man, more than quick hook ups and take out dinners — but there was romance and genuine caring — something special about the way that Hongjoong looked at you that you knew to be sincere.

And perhaps you were too weak-willed to manage it, the constant barrage of opinions and negativity from your family about the man you had chosen, and perhaps the relationship all too young to really weather the storm as it was, so when you told Hongjoong that the two of you should just remain friends, the disappointment was evident, but it wasn't the end of the world.

It was a little bit the end of the world, though, when Yunho came into the picture.

Moving into town a month before yours and Hongjoong's relationship ending, you had already found yourself rather well acquainted with the man in all of the worst ways: every terrible, off-putting version of Hongjoong that you figured to be buried deep down within him in hopes of never resurfacing, seemingly being all of the defining features of Jeong Yunho; mouthy, loud, and far too into himself for anyones good, really, you had only met him a handful of times at races before calling it quits with your then boyfriend, but Yunho had already long made a case for himself in squirming his way into your bedroom as Hongjoong vented about teammates losing races — and even worse, their cars — to the man in the black EVO and his team, Emperors.

How you ended up here, exactly, on a quiet Thursday night during a meet with Yunho to your right as he talks to one of his friends about a new backseat modification he's been considering for weight to his car, suppose that's where it gets a little murky.

Oh, and also the fact that you were just with Hongjoong the night before, too.

As the thoughts finally fall out of your mind, it's the feeling of a large hand on your bottom that jolts you out from them in totality, first looking down then just as quickly back up to your boyfriend.

A habit of getting handsy in public, like some bizarre expression of property owned and wishing for the entire world to see it, it had been a conversation more than three times by this point, so much so that you figure it best to simply give up on it.

“Come on, I told you I don't like that,” you whisper, it is not lost on you how willing you are to bend yourself as to not embarrass him all the while he cares little about granting you the same luxury.

With a slightly crooked smile, Yunho grins down at you before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. “It's just Mingi babe, he doesn't care.”

“I care.”

Yunho rolling his eyes at the snide response, pulling his hand from you entirely as if to withhold affection for your poor behavior, your eyes can't help but find Hongjoong well across the parking lot as he engages with his friends among his own team, Spiral.

Meeting your eyes, the interaction is brief, and guilt ridden all of the same.

In fact, Yunho's disinterest in your boundaries had already resulted in a verbal altercation between the two more than once, and that's not even including everything related to on the road.

Of course, Yunho had charms, otherwise leaving would be easy to do. Earlier on, especially — perhaps you a little too fresh off of your break up and more willing to be swept up and away by the tall, handsome, guy with dark red hair that your ex kind of hated but 'maybe he isn't so bad,' you remember thinking to yourself the first time he catches you out and about one random day — asking you to dinner later that night, paying, and giving you the best dick, perhaps, of your life.

You'd find that it doesn't take much time for the layers to peel themselves back, as people with much to hide typically find it difficult to keep up the ruse for all too long, but perhaps losing Hongjoong in your life — and especially for the reasons as such — a larger hole was left than you had initially imagined, now being filled by the rich guy who lets you pay for everything despite having money, doesn't respect your boundaries, and is often found to be in questionable locations more times than you'd like to really acknowledge.

One of the reasons you sort of don't feel bad when Hongjoong texts you late in the afternoon and asks if you want to meet at the usual spot.

But for whatever reason it is, you find it hard to let Yunho go — that even still, there are times late at night when your hand fits impossible perfectly into his as the both of you lie out on the lawn just outside of town and gaze up at the stars together — him telling stories about where he used to live and what he did before he got into street racing and him actually taking an interest in you and your life beyond just showing you off as the pretty little thing he gets to put his dick into — as it often feels in relation to him.

That makes it difficult, as affairs of the heart tend to be. It's never really so cut and dry.

As the end of the night rolls around, Chaerin comes to greet you with her boyfriend, Yeonjun on her arm — and her belongings diligently being held by him as well — both with smiles on their faces as head lights begin to pop on and engines start revving around them. Yunho plopping into the drivers side of his car, Chaerin leans over the open car door with her arm across to cushion her chin, and much to Yunho's visible disapproval.

“Long time, how've things been?”

A long time because Chaerin hates him and refuses to go to mutual gatherings that you invite him along to.

Yunho's eyes first darting to you before settling back to the blonde girl hanging from his car door window, the man leans forward to grip it and shake it free from her annoying grasp before shutting it and opening the window to continue on the conversation. “Fine. You guys going out tonight or something?”

Much to your surprise, you arrived with Yunho with every intention of leaving with him, so the fact that you now are not comes as news to you, and the shock across your features is not wasted on your best friend and her boyfriend.

“You brought her, you're not going to take her home?” She asks, attitude laden in her tone and no effort to conceal it whatsoever.

Yunho snorts, nodding his head towards you as he answers. “Tell your friend not to act like such a bitch in front of my friends, maybe i'll be more inclined to be nicer to her.”

“What are you even talking—“

“I'll take her home.”

A familiar, pitchy, voice, to you especially, piping up from behind the group of you and the twist in Yunho's features making it all the more evident as Hongjoong steps up between you and Chaerin — black and white leather jacket lazily zipped halfway up across his chest and incredibly fitted, lightly destroyed black jeans hugging his thighs. Brushing a hand through silver hair, he nods to you as if it's no big deal.

And as if he didn't have his face between your legs just last night. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” you answer just as carelessly. “Need a ride home, apparently.”

“Awww, little Joongie is so sweet,” Chaerin pipes up, slinging an arm up and around Hongjoong's shoulders in such an aggressively animated way that it nearly brings the man toppling down on top of her, but Yunho only rolls his eyes at the friendly display while huffing out a “whatever,” as he turns the car engine on with a rumbling vibration.

“We'll talk about this tomorrow,” he adds, flipping the car into reverse and rolling up his window before driving off to who knows where, and leaving you to pick up the pieces of how so many interactions between the two of you end up this way.

You sigh, less of anger or sadness, but rather the exhaustion of having become so used to this treatment — it not being the first time your boyfriend has done such a thing, after all.

Letting go of Hongjoong, Chaerin judges him in the arm with her elbow. “I could have taken her, you know.”

Sometimes you wonder if she knows, if she's caught onto the games the two of you play together when you think no one is looking, or none the wiser.

A relationship ended by word of mouth only, but really, nothing having really changed.

You and Hongjoong picked back up sleeping together only a week after breaking up, and never really stopped since. You can't help but wonder if she can tell in the way the two of you interact, how comfortable it is, how unchanged it is from back then.

“It's fine, she's on the way anyways.”

You're not, and everyone knows it.

“Alright well,” your friend begins, tying long, blonde hair into a tight ponytail and slinging an arm over her lovely partner to pull him along. “Be safe you guys, have a good night. Try to get her to break up with her shitty boyfriend, would you, Joong?”

A sly grin as a parting gift and she's off before you really have a chance to say anything to the comment. Hongjoong opting for silence on the topic himself as the rest of the cars clear and the two of you find yourselves the last ones on the cement — the scent of burned rubber and exhaust still lingering heavily in the air, the man next to you shrugs, looking almost sympathetic of you and your situation — a situation that you could just as easily find yourself out of, but sympathetic nonetheless.

Walking over to Hongjoong's car, he steps around to open the passenger side door for you first before circling back and allowing himself to fall into the drivers side of his own.

“Really wish you'd leave that dickhead,” he starts, ignition growling to a start and the inside panel of the car illuminating a bright blue — all custom work, exactly to his personal liking. “Only reason I still have a passenger seat is for when I have to pick up his slack.”

It feels a little bad when he says it like that, as if he feels the need to stick around, by your side, to play boyfriend #2 because #1 does such a dog shit job of it himself, and rather than abandon you to play with the hand that you've been dealt, Hongjoong stands by to try to make each sting at the hand of Jeong Yunho just a little bit easier to deal with — until you manage the strength to do what you know you need to and leave him once and for all.

“I know, sorry,” you mutter under your breath, feeling it necessary to offer the apology. Hongjoong pulling onto the road and driving off and into the night, one hand on the steering wheel, he glances over at you twice before grinning just slightly. “It's fine, you don't have to apologize.”

Turning to look out of the window, eyes still as glued to you as driving safely might allow, he replacing his right hand on the steering wheel with his left, allowing his right to settle onto your clothed thigh with no intent beyond comfort. “Hungry? Wanna grab something?”

“It's two in the morning,” you chuckle, the lightness of the sound bringing a much brighter smile to the mans lips even in spite of your accuracy regarding the situation. “Okay yeah, we can go back to my place? Seonghwa is there but it's fine.”

“It's late, I should probably just go home.”

You don't mean for it to sound so dejected as the sounds leave your lips, a culmination of so many things stirring around in your head all at once in regards to Hongjoong and Yunho both — you think of all of the ways that Hongjoong has always been so kind and good to you, even in the midst of a purely sexual relationship with him, where Yunho finds himself seemingly unwilling to meet you even halfway on simple things or gestures anymore — a man who won his prize and no longer finds it necessary to carry on. His dues paid, and once again, Hongjoong picking up the slack.

And as if some major cosmic joke, it's not lost on you how much your parents adore Yunho.

Never having learned of the street racing thing, on top of being much more cleaned up and presentable in appearance than the alternative — it's easy for Yunho to pull off the guy next door look, and for all intents and purposes, it is him, but in all of the worst ways, and the worst possible version of it. Arrogant and egotistical and unforgiving. Unloving. Manipulative, and in so many ways, cruel.

Like two personalities swapped from the bodies you would expect to find them — Hongjoong with a mouth on him for sure and probably incapable of uttering a sentence without an expletive in it, still kinder and more loving to you than perhaps Yunho has ever been.

And worse than that, you suspect for more than one reason that Yunho is meeting with an unidentified woman this evening. The unmentionable fact that everyone seems to know about but no one talks about, and no one tells you.

But suppose that may be fair and square, after all.

As Hongjoong's car rolls to a gentle stop in front of your parents home, you know what it will result in in the morning — them chewing you out for once again being out with the man that they loathe so much, but unbeknownst to them, the one willing to get their daughter home safe and sound — you let out a heavy exhale as he turns the ignition off and the both of you open car doors to exit from his and greet the chilly, spring air awaiting you.

Watching as the man settles himself against the dark red vehicle full of labor, love and more than all, money, you can't help how natural it feels to bring your arms up and around his neck — and happy to greet you, his own falling downwards and wrapping lightly around your waist to pull you tighter against his torso as foreheads close the space between them.

“Getting daring,” Hongjoong sighs just centimeters from your mouth, referencing the rather public display of affection despite it being the absolute dead of night and not a soul to be seen within eye shot.

“Thanks for taking me home,” you ignore his words in favor of your own and with a sly tone to them at that, as if hoping that the man may have the audacity to make a move on you like this.

But you know Hongjoong well, and what he's into, and enticing him into this takes little to no effort at all.

Shifting to press the top of your thigh against his crotch, feeling the already blooming hardness beneath his pants, you're able to watch in real time as his expression turns slightly lust-fueled as he pulls the door open to the drivers side once again and seats himself on the side of the chair with his legs hanging out. pulling you along with and down towards his face, it's then that he finally kisses you — as if making enough of an effort to do the best he can to conceal these sorts of rendezvous between you — it's hard and needy, all teeth and little tongue as he devours you while you settle on your knees between his own and his hands turn downward to fumble with the belt and button of his jeans.

“You and your risky sex,” you tease, waiting for him to expose his dick for you, but Hongjoong huffs out a laugh in his haste, as if well aware of it himself.

“I'll fuck you against the car if you want.”

“What if my parents saw?” you answer with a quirked eyebrow as he finally frees his length from the confines of his jeans, hand quickly wrapping around him and delicately stroking him.

“Hope they tell Yunho.”

“You're so annoying,” and with a roll of your eyes, you press yourself forward to wrap warm, wet lips around the girth of his cock. Fingers immediately reaching up and tangling into your hair with the first dip of your head along him, you know that in scenarios like this — Hongjoong's favorite thing being having you in places and situations he has no business taking you — he'll get handsy, and he'll cum quick, and for this, both are ideal.

“God, fuck, you feel so good,” Hongjoong chimes with a groan, fingers tightening in your strands just a bit more along with the noticeable raise of his hips up and into your mouth as you bob along his cock in timed, rhythmic strokes — you think it can't be longer than a minute or two before he's whimpering expletives and praise from between his lips as you take him deep into your mouth to swallow his load down as he comes. Pulling back off of him and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, the man leans down and kisses you on the mouth — an open mouth kiss, not at all chaste or unwilling to taste himself or what you've just done on you.

“I want to see you Saturday after the race.”

You hate to ruin the mood with the information, but suppose honesty is the best policy even in scenarios where you're watching the man you're cheating on your boyfriend with tuck his softening dick back into his pants.

“Think...I have plans with Yunho that night.”

It's meek, partly because you hate saying the words to your ex, and also partly because with the way that Yunho is, who knows if that will even happen.

But Hongjoong takes it in stride as you pull away from him, standing to clear yourself out of the way so that he can pull his legs back into the car and get ready to see you off for the night.

“Well, think about it,” he begins the thought casually, and you think he may actually end it off that well if not for the sharp inhale that follows afterwards. “I'm sure you could think of an excuse, something like 'oh, I want to get fucked by my ex-boyfriend who has a sexier car and is also way better at driving than you are, you fucking loser.' would do the trick?”

Leaning down once again, you kiss Hongjoong on the mouth — quick, but bringing your hand up and to the side of his head as you do so, the touch lingers long after the kiss ends, the man leaning into it as if offering a newly unlocked form of adoration and intimacy not previously felt tonight.

“Get some sleep,” you mutter, finally pulling from him.

Hand through short blonde hair, he smiles back at you with a nod. “Anything for you, darling.”

And watching him drive off into the foggy night, all you can think is how could your parents be so wrong.

“Hey sweetness—“

Barely jarring you from your sleep, the words comfort your ears in some strange way, like warmth itself uttered despite not even being sure that you're actually awake, actually hearing them — the dipping on the other side of the bed, however, doing a much better job of making you aware of the fact that this is, in fact, real life and not a dream. Groggy and attempting to bring yourself to cohesion, you roll onto your other side beneath warm blankets — the light from the morning, or early afternoon, which ever it is you can't be too sure just yet, shining through barely pulled apart, black out blinds.

The first thing you notice being how unfamiliar the man smells to you.

Hair damp and gently sticking to his forehead — evidence of a shower taken prior to visiting you, it's something that you've sort of made peace with, gotten used to.

But you've been to Yunho's enough to know that this isn't what his shampoo smells like.

Of course it's not fair for your chest to twist the way it does at the realization, Yunho's hand coming up to delicately press strands of your hair away from your face with a smile before leaning towards you and planting a kiss to your exposed forehead.

“I brought breakfast.”

Your lips curling upwards, a reaction that you can't help in relation to the kindness that your boyfriend extends to you, you're reminded of all of the ways and reasons that you feel for him, and even now, stay with him.

You figure no one's perfect, after all. We all have our faults.

And some of them, you share.

“Mom let you in?” you whisper, voice laden with sleep heaviness as you stretch arms out above you. you already know the answer, because your mother adores him and is ecstatic every time the man makes the effort to show his face around.

“Of course,” he chimes with another toothy smile, proud of himself for the accomplishment in having won over your parents. “Brought them something, too.”

Sitting up in bed slowly, nothing but a loose tank top and panties clinging to your body, you finally glance out and towards your computer — screensaver touting a comforting time of the day for you to see; 9:22, and you're happy that you haven't overslept despite still being tired from being out so late the night before.

Line of thought serving as a reminder of the activities also having taken place.

“We don't have to rush down,” Yunho adds as his hand begins it's slow journey between the sheets and beyond that, between your legs. Long, thin fingers dipping underneath your panties and wasting no time finding their mark between your folds — you sigh into the touch, and you'd be lying if you had attempted to tell yourself you weren't craving some release after the activities of only a handful of hours prior.

Perhaps fucked up on a number of levels, willing to give Yunho the pleasure of getting you off as a result of Hongjoong's hard work earlier.

But that also kind of does it for you, as well.

It flashes across your mind briefly, knowing but not knowing Yunho's whereabouts while you were out and about with Hongjoong, so maybe it was what you deserved — someone's sloppy seconds — melting into the touch your boyfriend offers as he shifts over and between your legs, pulling the sheets from you and beginning the hasty work of his pants button. You reach up, hands gripping at his black t-shirt to pull him down and against you as he barely catches himself with a palm against the mattress before crushing you — both of you laughing against each other lips at the clumsiness of just wanting to feel the other in a rush with little time at your disposal — Yunho kisses you like there's no time at all before dipping down towards your neck and sucking into the sensitive skin just below your ear.

“Lemmie fuck you with your panties on,” he whispers, finally freeing his cock from his pants just enough to grant him the ability to take you.

“Please,” you whine, his fingers already pulling at the sides to give himself access before your answer even rings out from between your lips — the scent of where ever it was that he had been now overwhelming your senses, it feels so bizarre how your body physically reacts to it — the knowledge of him being in places or arms where he shouldn't dare be and now coming back to you — tip of his length already pushing into you with a heavy exhale from both and bottoming out fast despite his length and your lack of prep, it's something that you've never quite gotten used to even after all of these times together, and especially in the circumstances of a quickie.

But god did you want it bad right now.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” another admission from him straight against your ear — breaths hot and humid on your skin, your eyes clamp shut at the feeling of being so filled by him just as he makes his first withdraw and push back inside of you — a hard, rough, snap of his hips that has you reeling and moaning out for him already.

This was typically how you and Yunho worked out your problems.

A few minutes down, your hands wrapped into your boyfriends hair, you whimper against his neck to fuck you harder, and feeling the nearly sinister curl of his lips you know he's happy to oblige the request — two, three harsher fucks into you, Yunho quickly slips the hand not supporting his weight over you down and between your legs to rub into your clit harshly to get you to cum around him.

“Yeah baby, cum for me,” he whispers into your ear, words cut up and jerked out from the own movement of his body. “Cum with me baby, I'm close.”

“Fuck, Yunho—“

Whining out for him as your muscles clench around him, orgasm taking you with the help of his handy work and his words (and perhaps a bit of the memory of Hongjoong cumming down your throat a few hours prior), you cum hard — hands coming down to grip into his shoulders, Yunho pulls up to fuck you harder and faster as he chases his own just behind you — the evidence of your nails digging into his clothed skin evident across his features as a splash of pain flashes across — but it's only seconds later that he groans, burying himself almost painfully deep inside of your cunt as he paints your walls with his release — then two more lazy, shallow thrusts into you before gently lying himself atop your torso with a heavy, contented, sigh.

For whatever reason, it's times like this especially that you want to ask him where he was.

Why he has to go elsewhere — if it's you, him, or a culmination of the two that causes him to do the things he does.

When you hear your phone vibrate on your nightstand just as Yunho slips out of you and pushes himself back inside of his pants, you know it's Hongjoong.

“When are you going to break up with that guy, anyways?”

Not the ideal first thing to hear upon meeting up with your best friend, but not surprising, either, after the events of the night before.

Setting your bag down on an empty chair at the table, Chaerin watches you intently with her arms crossed in front of her chest, one eyebrow perked up as if somewhat judging even though you know she doesn't, not really.

Both of you in lazy t-shirts and jeans, a far cry from the bit of dress up each of you tend to play when it comes to car related events, you realize it's become rare that the two of you meet this casually — with how busy both of you are with your respective lives.

“Nice to see you, too,” you chime back sarcastically as you sit yourself down at the table. grabbing towards a menu, Chaerin pops her hand out to stop you from taking it.

“I already ordered, don't change the subject!”

“I hardly think ordering food at a restaurant is changing the subject...”

“You know he's cheating on you.”

Hearing the words sting, but not as much as they would if you weren't doing the exact same thing, you guess.

Clearing your throat uncomfortably and looking around in an attempt to find any prying eyes or ears that may be listening in on your conversation, you lean across the table towards your friend with a sigh. “I don't know that, Chaerin.”

Sitting back in her chair with a huff, the blonde rolls her eyes. “Give me a break, you're smarter than that, you know. You're fine with it?”

“I mean, I don't know.”

“Beyond that, he treats you like shit anyways, what the fuck was all of that last night? Just abandoning you at the meet?”

“I knew plenty of people there who could take me home,” you quietly offer as argument, much to Chaerin's dismay.

“Gotta be honest with you,” she starts, eyes pulling away from you momentarily as if unsure of the right way to go about the rest of the conversation. “I don't think he really cared all that much about whether you did or not. Let your ex take you home so he could go fuck some other—“

“Chaerin—“

“I'm just saying.”

Silence befalling the table just as wait staff arrive with the previously ordered food, you exhale heavily at the sight of everything sprawled out in front of you, and the suffocating knowledge of everything just discussed.

Hardly much for making an appetite.

“I need to tell you something,” you pipe up suddenly, and much to your friends surprise. you watch as her eyes slowly pull towards your own, waiting for the bomb you have to drop, and boy, is it a doozy, too.

“I've...I've actually been—“

“Oh, what the fuck, hey.”

Once again, piped up out of no where, and you're sort of beginning to curse living in such a small city where so few restaurants reign as the supreme places to go — you already know who awaits your eyesight before ever turning towards him, but it's the sight of him dressed in his Spiral gear that is what takes you by surprise more than anything.

That, and the fact that you were just about to tell Chaerin about your ongoing involvement.

“Now, why are you everywhere?” Chaerin greets with a smile before playfully nodding in your direction. “You stalking your ex?”

“She's got enough problems without the whole crazy ex-boyfriend thing, i'll spare her the trouble,” Hongjoong snorts just before sitting himself into another empty chair at your table.

It's awkward — because you feel as though everyone knows a secret but it can't be spoken. Perhaps that is the case, after all. Too many secrets.

“She was just about to tell me something and now you came and ruined it, thanks a lot,” your friend jokes just before scooping a fork full of meat into her mouth. Hongjoong turns to glance at you — as if knowing fully well what it was that you were about to disclose to the woman — and with a devilish grin and an elbow on the table to cradle his chin: “Oh really? Do tell.”

He definitely knows.

“It's...nothing. Girl talk.”

You make the decision to bring your hands into your lap, for fear of them visibly shaking should you bring them up to eye sight.

“I'm sure it is,” he replies with a tone that you can only describe as knowing. “Anyways, just picking up food for the guys down at the shop — Seonghwa's been working nonstop on the car for tomorrow so he can be ready to beat your shitty little boyfriend.”

Chaerin laughs, a woman with no particular horse in the race aside from hating that man, and with Hongjoong standing back up, you send him off with a hello for Seonghwa in particular.

A race planned for over a month now, and not one that you've been looking forward to, either. Yunho doing what he does — challenging drivers from opposing teams to races for their pink slips, and it's unsurprising that anyone from Spirals would ever turn down the opposition — if you get challenged by Emperors, you have to accept.

Not accepting is as good as losing, anyways.

You wonder why it is that neither Yunho nor Hongjoong have ever challenged one another — bringing it up one evening over a couple of beers with your partner, and Yunho's only answer being that he doesn't even want Hongjoong's 'shitty RX-7.'

The irony being, of course, that Hongjoong and Seonghwa drive the same make.

Phone vibrating from your pocket shortly after Hongjoong leaves, you pull it from your jeans to illuminate the screen and view the notification gracing the lockscreen.

>Aunty H: gonna tell your bestie you're still getting dick on the side? she'd probably be thrilled lmao

Looking up towards your friend across the table for a split second before unlocking your phone to reply — as if she somehow has the ability to know what it is that the man said to you from the back of your device, you feel as though every eye in the entire world rests on you in this moment. Perhaps not the best time for this conversation, after all.

>You: I don't like keeping the secret from her, idk. she hates Yunho for it when i'm doing the same thing.

Hongjoong begins typing back so quickly you believe him to simply be sitting in his car in the parking lot just outside to have this conversation in the moment.

>Aunty H: she hates Yunho because he's a piece of shit and on top of that he can't keep it in his pants either. not the same. speaking of, I want to see you tomorrow night after the race

>You: I told you I have plans with Yunho

>Aunty H: you fuck him since last night?

Rolling your eyes, you pause for a moment to think over your response. It's really none of his business, but given the circumstances — suppose everyone's sexual whereabouts be everyone else's business.

>You: don't do that

>Aunty H: i'll see you saturday

It doesn't feel good, the circumstances you've allowed yourself to fall into, but at the same time — the promise of what Saturday night may hold — after the sounds of tires screeching and adrenaline pumping through every vein subsides, what either man may have in store for you, depending on how the evening turns out.

And perhaps, it's time to get it the fuck together and make an actual decision, too.

 More than anything, it's the familiar scent of exhaust, fuel, and burnt rubber that you've come to find comforting, a sense of home in the strangest sense.

Dozens of cars lined up on the outside of the road — a long, winding trail of only two lanes, one each way — that is tonight’s destination. a sheen of wetness on the ground from rain much earlier on in the evening, not ideal driving circumstances for most, but for the more experienced drivers — the ones that experience an even higher thrill from the danger, the unexpectedness of it — it's ideal. Hongjoong specifically, touted as a master of the pin hair corner drift, and especially out of Spirals, you know it to be precisely the sort of weather that he wishes to be racing in.

But tonight isn't his night, it's his best friend, Seonghwa's.

A tall, beautiful man with long, black hair and often clad in all black leather, black jeans, and his hair tied up into a half ponytail — he's far from the kind of person most would expect to find at a place like this — currently bent in half and over the engine of his matte black RX-7 making the finishing preparations for his race against your main squeeze.

With the leader of the crew standing just beside him, of which you are well acquainted.

And on nights like this, you belong to Emperors.

Race nights turn into strictly 'friendship aside' events, at least, once Yunho and Emperors started coming around. A group of street racers all intermingling and enjoying one another's company once before, now heavily segregated and pushed apart — the need to choose sides becoming apparent once Emperors began racing people for their cars, and subsequently, Spirals member and long time friend of Hongjoong's, Jongho, losing his to Mingi.

So now, as you with Yunho to your side pass by Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and the rest of Spirals with your own little band of Emperors tagging just behind, a few glances are all that are exchanged between the lot of you, with eyes between you and your ex lingering just a bit longer than some may even notice at a glance.

Yunho's hand slipping down from around your shoulders to your waist only to linger there for a moment before trailing down and to your ass — right in Hongjoong's line of vision, you snap your head up and towards your boyfriend to tell him off for far from the first time for such a grievance—

Only to find his attention far from you, and rather, on that of the man who only a few months prior called you his own, himself.

Following the tall man to his vehicle and settling yourself against the side of it as he settles himself inside of the drivers seat, you spare yourself the bother of looking him in the eye to reprimand him for the behavior, simply looking out and towards the scene before you of people laughing, enjoying themselves — people with nothing to lose tonight, only here to enjoy a show, and hopefully, everyone making it out in one piece.

“How many times do I have to tell you—“

“Yeah yeah, I know, why's it such a big deal to you? a lot of women would like having me show them off, ya know.”

“Yeah? a lot of women?” you say with a snide bite to your tone, finally turning to face him. “Guess you'd know, wouldn't you?”

Raising his eyebrows in surprise at the retort, Yunho pauses before curling his lips into a smirk. “Anything else, princess? I've got shit to do tonight, like take your little pals' friends' car.”

“Why do you have to be like that with him? With them?”

As much of a surprise as it is to Yunho — the sudden aggressiveness to you that you never having displayed towards him before for all of his transgressions — it's just as much a surprise to yourself. Knowing fully well that the outcome of enough of this could easily result in the dissolution of your relationship with the man.

And you wonder, if that's a price you're willing to pay. You also wonder, if this is effectively you slamming your hand down on the self-destruct button.

“I'm not being like anything,” he snaps back, ignition of his car roaring on and gently pushing you out of the way so that he can shut his car door. “Back where I'm from, anywhere where people actually race, people drive for pink slips all of the time. Those are the stakes. It's not my fucking problem that everyone here wants to play carebears and rainbows and no one actually wants to drive.”

“You're such an asshole, you know that? Why can't you just fit in? Assimilate? Why does everything have to be about your fucking ego all of the time?”

“Well babe,” he sighs, pressing his car into drive and effectively communicating to you that the conversation is over — something that you're well aware of already with calls for the drivers to come to the front lines. “You wanted to be with me, and you still are, so what does that say about you?”

Silence takes you, chewing on the inside of your lip — you do wonder.

“Get your attitude in check by the time the race is over,” he adds just before rolling off. “I have a much better use for your mouth in mind than all of this bullshit.”

With that, your boyfriend slowly rolls off and towards the starting line, glancing over and across the cement, you watch as Hongjoong pulls up from Seonghwa's drivers side window for his friend to carry on doing the same, and as if feeling your gaze upon him, turns to meet eyes with your own.

It's ill-advised to be seen mingling in a place like this, during a night like this, so instead, you're barred to stolen glances through midnight fog and cigarette smoke.

Stepping up with your jacket clutched inwards towards your chest, you stand alongside another Emperors driver, Yeosang — a shorter guy with a wicked birthmark adorning his face — as Seonghwa and Yunho meet up at the starting line in the dead of night, awaiting the referees announcements to begin preparation. First, it's a rundown of the rules for the race; very little of them, given that it is illegal street racing, but effectively boiling down to 'don't intentionally do things that put you or others at higher risk of injury or death,' then it's how the countdown to start will begin shortly. You meet eyes with Yunho — the car closest to you — a stare cold and disinterested and lacking any emotional care for you at all, so when he pulls his eyes away and back towards the wet road ahead of him, your eyes wander further out and towards Seonghwa, who also greets you.

A silent nod that the two of you share, as if agreeing on a preferable outcome for the evening.

The truth is that Jeong Yunho's reputation certainly be fitting of him: a good driver, skilled, and with a fast car, at that.

Seonghwa was good, great, even — but technically outmatched — and part of the evil that shrouded Emperors reputation, as well. A sort of 'pick on someone your own size' mentality certainly lost on them.

Yunho had never challenged Hongjoong, and for that, many thought there to be a reason.

With the buzzer sounding for the impending countdown, your hands gripping the steel of the barrier erected between the viewers and the street in front, you inhale sharply the scent of the dewy night sky, and all in all, can only hope for each of them to make it out in one piece.

Then, the familiar scent of a certain cigarette evading your senses.

Three, two, one, go.

Tires screeching, the two pull off lightning quick, and you're disappointed in the fact that from where you stand, you'll see very little of it until the end — people already beginning to move towards the finishing line to have the perfect view of the outcome, you feel the familiar presence of not one, but two people coming up on either side of you: Chaerin, and Hongjoong, naturally.

“You're late,” you nod to your friend, her nodding in response.

“Purposefully, I don't need to watch Emperors all circle jerk each other off pre-race, seen it enough times as it is.”

Hongjoong snorts at the comment from the other side of you before taking a drag of his already lit cigarette as it sits between freshly painted fingers.

“What do you think?” you ask him, tone lower and less playful than the one you had just had with Chaerin a moment ago. The man hums, looking up and into the night sky before stepping back again with intent to head towards the finish line as well.

“Yunho will probably win,” he states, matter of a fact. “But it's fine, we have cars. Paint job on his was expensive though so that'll probably hurt.”

“He has a lot of money in that car,” you sigh disappointingly, and Hongjoong nods. “Yeah, he does.”

“We should go,” Chaerin chimes with a nudge into your arm.

The thought of Yunho taking, and taking from the people and places that mean so much to you without giving much of anything back weighing heavier and heavier on your heart and soul with each passing day, you find.

Seonghwa figures that for a race like this, the fact that it's an uphill track works out in his favor — with the roads wet and gravity defying, top speeds peak relatively low, which means that despite Yunho having far more time and money into his car, what it will really come down to is skill, and knowledge — two things that the man with the ponytail feels he has leaps and bounds of over his opponent. a course he's done countless times, and Yunho, only a handful since moving here, it lends itself to being the course that people test, especially when it comes to the hairpin drift.

It's Hongjoong's favorite, too.

Hitting the shift and snapping his car forward with Yunho just behind, the two take the first turn — not an especially difficult one, but Seonghwa notices that already he feels the road give way a bit beneath his vehicle at the speed in which he's driving as he momentarily loses the back end of the car — it's not a loss, nothing that his opponent can gain on having immediately straightened out for a bit just past it — but Seonghwa takes note of the fact regardless, being well aware of the kinds of twists and turns that await them just a bit further up the road.

For Yunho, however, the turn is of little concern to him, happily trailing behind his opponent for the time being as he grins at the sight of the much lesser experienced driver just ahead of him lose it in the tail end of the corner. 'A good sign,' he thinks to himself, not that he was worried to begin with — considering this to be just another easy win for his team to collect under their belts.

The next corner proves to be much tighter, and much more difficult to navigate — for Seonghwa, at least. Slamming his shift to hit the drift at just the precise moment, heart leaping into his chest as he steals a second to stare back into his rear view mirror to check on how Yunho is handling it, it gives him little comfort watching the way that Yunho navigates the track with his vehicle, and with a lump in his throat, slams his shift once again for the next oncoming turn — a hard right following the previous hard left — and with it being a relatively short track with no long straightaways after the last hairpin corner for Yunho to gain on him with an objectively faster and more powerful car, if he can manage to avoid allowing his opponent the space to overtake in one of the turns, or worse, lose control of his car and give Yunho the race for free — that it should be an easy win for the man on Team Spirals.

Shifting gear, Seonghwa slams on the break just enough to hit his drift just right, this time not losing the back end at all — a comforting sign, glancing back at the EVO behind him and still trailing — a short straight drive before the last sharp left, and subsequently the end of the race — this being the make or break of the entire competition.

Shifting again to hit his drift — tires screeching and the smell of burning rubber carrying so heavy in the air that surely everyone waiting at the top of the mountain can feel the heaviness of the impending end, Seonghwa glances back again to look towards the tall man with the dark, red hair in his rearview mirror—

But this time, he finds no one there looking back at him.

Panic settling hard and fast into his chest, the man looks over to his side, Yunho now having crept up just next to him on the same drift — unaware of how it is that he's able to gain on a hairpin turn such as this one but without the ability to think much of it now — and sure, through numerous races between he and Hongjoong on this very same track, it's not unheard of, and has happened before.

But tonight, of all nights.

Yunho looking over at the panicking driver with a cool and collected demeanor as he slams his shift to carry a straighter drive just a second faster than Seonghwa — the man can't help but let out an exasperated 'fuck!' to no one as he follows suit but all too late in the grand scheme of things — seconds of drive feeling like a collection of years in the moment and the outcomes resulting the same, all it takes it one second — and in situations such as this one, it's the Emperors leader Jeong Yunho who effortlessly shows his skill, precision, and experience. all within one seconds time.

Coming out of the turn, the lights from the awaiting crowd in full view as Yunho rips forward and ahead of Seonghwa who only straightens out his own vehicle just after — and in less than ten seconds, the race is over as the both of them cross the finish line.

Trying to temper your frown at the result, and pulling away from Hongjoong before Yunho can catch you in his eyesight of being with the man, you notice the way he chews on the inside of his cheek contemplatively — disappointed, but not surprised.

As you make your way through the crowd and towards your boyfriend — stepping tall and proud from his vehicle with a smug grin on his face as if the entire world rest in his palm, it's a bubbling feeling of disgust, and maybe even resentment that starts to churn within you at the sight of him.

The cheers from other Emperors members and fans alike ringing through your ears, too loud, too obnoxious to stand listening to for too long, Yunho catches sight of you before you have a chance to duck out of the group of people, stepping forward and taking you by the hand to pull you towards him and into a kiss for the people to see.

When he finally releases you, you catch eyes with Hongjoong in the back of the standing people — cigarette dangling between pretty lips and eyes rolling as he turns back to console the loser of the race.

“Problem, Chief.”

The words come from Mingi — driver, racer, mechanic and closest friend of Yunho's, so you know it's not good when the both of you quickly turn your attention to the man with his attention hard pressed into the windshield of your boyfriends car.

“Man, come on, what now!” Yunho whines as he steps around and next to his friend to view whatever it is that is the issue.

Pointing a finger towards a large crack in the glass — spanning from the bottom right corner all of the way up to nearly the center, Mingi doesn't even really have to say it before the red head starts groaning with his head tossed back. “Give me a fuckin' break.”

“You didn't notice?” Mingi asks with a bit of a chuckle, as if completely unsure how that could be, but Yunho shrugs. “I heard something hit it but I just thought it was a small rock, I didn't think it would be all of this.”

“You can't drive it like this, we'll have to bring it back to the shop tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” your boyfriend groans again, the largest inconvenience in the world now being presented just before him. “Good thing I just gained a new car, I guess.”

It sends chills down your spine, only now being reminded of exactly what it was that was on the line for this race.

With a sinister tone and a single corner of his mouth upturning, Mingi chuckles. “Better go collect, then.”

Slinging an arm up and around your shoulders a bit more roughly than you would have liked, Yunho leans down just a bit to plant a kiss on the top of your head as he pulls you forward and towards the group of Spirals only a few feet away.

“Just another pretty little thing I get to take from these bums.”

The words twisting your stomach into knots all over again, there had always been a sneaking suspicion deep within your soul that somewhere in there, at the end of the day, there was no respect for you, no love for you, nothing genuine at all.

Just another possession that Yunho wished to acquire, as he had been his entire time there.

Shouting out and towards the grouping of guys, Seonghwa leaning with his back against his car and quite evidently to you trying to play his loss cool — you've known him long enough to know how much he loves that car, and how badly it stings for him to lose it.

You hate to see it, and more than that, you hate to see it be lost to Emperors.

“You cracked my windshield, fuckboy,” Yunho shouts — the tone is playful, but it's more fuel to the fire you can tell from the way Hongjoong's jaw tightens as he clenches it in an attempt to be a good sport about the whole ordeal. “Time to pay up, I need to get me and the girl home, after all.”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa sighs, turning to lean into his car and popping the dashboard compartment to retrieve the title, it's then that the sound of Hongjoong stepping up from the side can be heard.

“What can I do to keep Seonghwa's car?”

At first a sweeping moment of silence, before a crashing sound and what you can only imagine to be Seonghwa slamming his head against his dash in shock at the proclamation by his friend as the man hisses and is found to be rubbing the back of it upon pulling himself out of the side of the vehicle — but with short silver hair and similarly short in stature — especially compared to your boyfriend, Hongjoong stands firm in front of the man, arms crossed in front of his chest as he awaits a response.

Yunho looking at him with one quirked eyebrow before glancing down towards you with a lopsided grin, he looks back up at Hongjoong through eyelashes before delivering his short-thought response.

“Kind of bad form to beg me not to take my spoils, don't you think?” he asks smugly. “Kind of pathetic, ya know?”

“You don't need it, you guys only drive EVO's anyways, who cares.”

“Hardly the point,” he says, matching Hongjoong's stance as he pulls from you and crosses his arms to stand straight — and even taller — in front of your ex. “We had an agreement, and I won fair and square, the car is mine.”

“What, so you can rip it for parts?” Hongjoong asks.

“No, so I can trash it where it belongs.”

Snorting at the pissy response, the shorter of the two glances away for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek again before turning back to carry on the conversation, but it's Seonghwa who interjects before he's able to.

“Hongjoong, it's fine, he won.”

“Actually, it's not,” he says, this time more pointed than his previous tone. “I don't think it is fine, actually, so what can I do to keep my mans car?”

Watching the three go back and forth causing anxiety to bubble up in your gut, unsure of the lengths in which any of the men are willing to go to in order to get their points across, you give it some thought yourself — if there's anything that you can do to settle this situation between all of them yourself. the person with the most dealings with all parties involved, now standing by on the sidelines as the two teams attempt to hash it out — and not well, at that, your mind races in an attempt to come to an answer, but before you're able, you feel the discomforting gaze of your partner raining down on you from just above, all before any words even leave his mouth.

“Well babe, what do you think? Should we let the poor guy keep his ratty ol' car?”

You know a set up when you see it — or in this case, when you hear it.

Glancing towards Hongjoong, his eyes pull away almost immediately, you figure as to not attempt to pressure you into making a decision one way or another — and not knowing how much weight your decision holds, that earlier anxiety continues creeping up through your chest, and into your throat.

You know that one thing is for sure: doing the right thing most certainly will come with consequences.

“Well?”

Inhaling slowly, deeply, you make your decision.

“Let Seonghwa keep the car.”

You try not to engage in eye contact with your boyfriend, knowing full well that his gaze remain laser focused on you especially now, but the curiosity getting the best of you as you glance upwards to meet angry, disappointed eyes — the strangest result of an expression of compassion awaiting you — Yunho hums just barely audibly before forcing a grin and looking back up and towards the Spirals members.

“Lady says fuckboy keeps his car, so fuckboy keeps his car.”

One part relieved at the outcome, one part surprised by your word carrying any weight with the man, and the last concerned about the result of this in regards to your relationship with Yunho, slinging an arm up and around your shoulder again, he hurries you off and away from the men.

But regardless of what happens now, you know that you've done the right thing — and maybe for once you'll be able to sleep well tonight.

“We're gonna go to the bar, wanna come?”

Yeosang's voice ringing out as the two of you step forward, Yunho abruptly pulls his arm from you as he carries forward and towards the friends glossy white EVO — and waving a hand up in the air, he bids you farewell in a turn of events that you find not all that surprising anymore.

“Get a ride home with your pals,” he rings out, tone venomous and contemptuous. “In the ratty old RX-7, all used up and past its prime—“ he scoffs as he opens the passenger side door.

“—Kinda reminds me of someone else I know.” He says, finishing the thought before sliding inside of the car and slamming the door shut.

The words don't hurt — not from him. It's an anticipated outcome from a calculated risk that you decided to take.

But they show the mans true colors all the same.

As you watch your boyfriend and his friends drive off to enjoy the rest of their victory evening without you — shooting you knowing glances all the while — you contemplate sending the text message then and there, the one ending your relationship with him once and for all. A break up via text, perhaps precisely what he deserves for his thoughtlessness towards you, anyways, but still extending yourself much further for him than perhaps the man would ever do for you.

Save it for another day, and try to enjoy the rest of your evening.

Sauntering back over towards Spirals, Chaerin now joining the fray, she looks up at you from beneath Seonghwa's popped hood — having been checking out his engine as you dealt with the disaster on the other side of the asphalt.

But as she flashes you with a wide smile, it's all the more indication that what you had done was right.

“You're in big trouble, aren't you?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

Sighing, you shrug. “Looks like I need another ride home tonight.”

Hongjoong popping up from the drivers side of Seonghwa's car, where the tallest man is sat and about ready to head off for the night and overhearing the conversation, he sends you a knowing look from across matte black paint that may now still remain in the company of his teammate, and all thanks to you.

With Chaerin and Seonghwa being the last two to drive off, and leaving only you and your ex-boyfriend at the top of the hill, you place your bag into the passenger side seat of Hongjoong's car before shutting the door and leaning against it with your chest — arms crossed along the top as you wait for the man on the other side to finish doing the same and come up to meet your eyes.

“Surprised you did it,” he says as he does, pulling at the collar of his leather jacket to loosen it just a bit. “Guess I don't have to ask if he's pissed since you're here.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, long since accepting of the outcome of the situation and having made peace with it. “He'll get over it.”

“Why's his car still here, anyway?”

“Crack in the windshield,” you reply with a shrug. “Karma, maybe.”

“Oh, definitely,” he chimes back with a snort. “Lemmie see this thing.”

The two of you walking back over towards Yunho's car, long since abandoned and awaiting it's rescue in the early morning hours (or not so early, depending on how the night out goes), you recall this being the exact spot where you and Hongjoong shared your first kiss — first romantic kiss — past the veil of a friends with benefits arrangement, more raw and exposed and knowing between you both; a much chillier night than this and much windier when he finally pulled you in for it with no other intentions beyond it, and the words that you had secretly been wanting to hear for weeks before then.

'I think we should just see each other, only, what do you think?'

“Oh man, that's a fuckin' doozy!”

High pitched laughter ringing through the night air and straight through the memory, effectively bringing you back to the present, your attention pulls back to Hongjoong, leaned over the side hood of Yunho's EVO to laugh at your boyfriends misfortune. “No wonder he was so hard up for Seonghwa's car, fuckin' scumbag.”

Meeting him at his side to take a look at the damage again, you smile at Hongjoong's joy in it, knowing it's well deserved, and most earned.

“Looks like I got you to myself tonight, after all.”

It's sort of a sudden change, the way his body shifts to pull away from the vehicle only enough to plant you further against it, and underneath him — arms on either side of you, caging you in with little option for escape from the man.

Not that you really wanted to, anyway.

Hongjoong leans in towards your face, lips grazing the skin of your cheek on their way towards your ear — the contact sending a shiver down your spine — some bizarre taboo of being held like this by him against such a prized possession of your boyfriends — but suppose that makes two of them, now well within Hongjoong's grasp currently.

“Have the keys?”

For a second you wonder what he's referring to, before it dawns on you that he's referring to the car, and with a shake of your head to protest. “No, only Mingi has another set.”

“Damn,” he whispers against the shell of your ear as a hand dips down and makes its way between your legs to palm at you. “That's okay, we can make due.”

Devilish in tone, you melt into the touch as he begins pulling at the buttoning of your jeans, face turning upwards and pulling your mouth into his — his tongue tasting of cigarette and coffee in anticipation of a long night ahead, you happily lean into it as your arms sling up and around his neck to pull him harder against you.

Shimmying your pants down your legs, he pulls away from your mouth only long enough to slink down to free one of your feet from the restrictive clothing, hiking your leg up and around his hip as he comes back up to meet your mouth for the second round of devouring you — cool metal greeting your behind as he presses you harder against the vehicle, you moan into his mouth as a finger presses into you slowly, one hand from around his neck falling back and against the car to steady yourself better for what it is that's soon to take place.

A second finger in, slowly prying you open for his cock, Hongjoong's mouth pulls away to trail down your neck, latching onto the skin just below your chin to suck a mark into it.

Just another doing of his that you'll have to cover up, like all of the ones before it. Perhaps if you were smarter, you'd tell him to avoid doing such things.

But frankly, that's not something you want, either.

“Wanna fuck you,” he groans into your skin, a whimper escaping you in response to the admission. Fingers pulling from you to work into his own jeans, you allow your head to fall back to take in the moment — the beautiful night sky, the light breeze, and the lingering scents of the nights earlier goings on. only a few seconds granted to you before you feel the familiar prodding of the tip of him pushing inside of you through the sound of his belt buckle jingling through the air.

“Kiss me,” you whisper out, Hongjoong wasting no time obliging the request as he brings his mouth up from your neck and to your lips, one hand gripping tightly into your thigh to keep it hoisted up his hip as he fucks you against the vehicle.

The angle certainly doing you favors, presenting the perfect ability for Hongjoong's cock to graze the perfect spot with every drive into you, free hand not used to keep yourself somewhat upright now buried into short, blonde hair — the man fucks you hard, but not particularly fast, every thrust seemingly deliberate in his desire to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible.

Legs quaking around him as you cry out his name, clenching down around him as he fucks you through your orgasm, Hongjoong pauses kissing you long enough to pull from your lips enough to watch you intently as you cum around his dick — forehead pressed to your own as you moan and whimper through your release.

“Fuck me from behind.”

The demand spilling from your lips before you have a chance to think much of it, still reeling from your orgasm, no time lost in taking heed of it — pulling himself from you and turning you around to bend you over the cold metal of your boyfriends car before burying his cock inside of you again and settling into a much harder, quicker pace than before.

You feel him reach down for something briefly, without much thought to it, until you hear the sound of a lighter flickering, and the scent of freshly lit cigarette from behind you.

It's a little charming, in a hilariously degenerate way, you think.

“Rubbed off on you a little bit, huh?” he huffs out between thrusts, one hand settled on the small of your back while the other wraps around the dip in your waist. “Now who likes getting fucked in places they have no business getting fucked in?”

“Joong— feel so good, fuck—“ and it's hardly a response to the questions, although it sort of is with how exquisite the drag of his cock feels against your walls.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to make you cum again? Like me fucking you on your mans car?”

“Yes,” you manage to huff out, the air nearly fucked out of you with every hard push of himself against you.

Feeling the brief loss of one of his hands — presumably to finish off his cigarette and toss it to the side — he brings it back to gently snake up the length of your back, settling at the back of your neck and gripping fingers into the sides to continue his rhythm.

“Rub yourself for me,” Hongjoong whispers, voice faltering every so slightly at the creeping promise of his own release, and you waste no time bringing your dominant hand down and between your legs — first feeling for the way his cock stretches your pussy open with every push inside of you, enough in and of itself to get you that much closer to where you want to get to before circling fingers against your clit to bring yourself over the edge around him — groaning immediately at the feeling of you tightening around him with the additional stimulation, he fucks you that much harder.

Biting hard into your lip in an attempt to stifle your cries, Hongjoong notices, and much to his disapproval.

“No one can hear you, you can scream for me,” he groans, clearly and quickly reaching his own orgasmic inevitability. “Lemmie hear you, tell me how good it feels.”

The instruction does enough of the work, his desire to hear you cry out for him and how good he makes you feel as you cum hard — at the same time, Hongjoong's hips stuttering with a breathy moan of your name as he shoves his cock as deep into you as he can to cum — the throb of his release prolonging your own as you sound nearly pained by the feeling of a long, drawn out, second orgasm of the night.

An airy 'fuck' dropping from him as he attempts to steady himself, catch his breath after his release, Hongjoong only bends forward to lean himself against your back — gentle kisses peppered across your shoulder and back before he settles the side of his head down against you for a moment of reprieve.

As a gust of fresh, night air flushes by and across hot skin, when the words ring out through bitten, red, lips, you think for a split second that you're not sure which one of you they truly come from — long since having been hanging in the forefront of your mind, as it was.

'I miss you. Us.'

Over the next following weeks, you can't help but notice the acute way in which messages back from Hongjoong dissipate. You figure, at least to some degree, that the relationship between Spirals and Emperors having reached such a boiling point after the last race, that perhaps it's expected — that even in spite of your good deed in martyring yourself for Seonghwa's car, the fact that it ever even reached that point be reason enough to want to distance himself from you.

That's what you tell yourself, at least, ignoring the elephant in the room.

And as the days pass, you find your relationship with Yunho having also deteriorated in such a way that maybe you hadn't anticipated. Yes, you expected him to be mad about the dealing with Seonghwa, and yes, that had been something that you had factored in prior to making the decision — in thinking that with a few days to cool off, things might just go back to normal.

Not that normal was ever even that great, either.

So two weeks later, on a rainy Thursday night just two hours before the scheduled meet up — no races and no thrills given the weather — when Yunho texts you that he's coming over to talk, you're unsure of what to expect. Perhaps the dissolution of your relationship, the thought causing an expected twisting to the contents of your stomach.

Why, you're not sure. Would breaking up even really be that bad?

But suppose the ending of a relationship where there once had been love will always be hard.

Watching Yunho drag himself through the doorway of your bedroom, jacket almost certainly left at the front door of your home and bag slumping down to the floor with a thud, you watch as he avoids eye contact with you for the first few seconds of his arrival — fingers pushing through damp, rained upon hair to remove what's stuck to the skin of his forehead, he sighs heavily as he finally makes eye contact with you — but doesn't press himself further inside of the bedroom, either.

Awkwardness so tangible, it's the first time that you think you've ever seen him in such a bizarre state — not so astoundingly full of ego and grandeur but rather, somewhat impish as a result of whatever it is that he came here tonight to say.

“We should talk.”

Voice deep but almost cracking through the abruptness of the words, it takes you quite a bit back as once again his eyes dart from you — knots tightening in your abdomen at the sight of your boyfriend just before you.

You can't find it in you to respond to him, waiting for the pin to drop, instead.

“You can't spend time with Spirals anymore.”

Wait, what?

You don't say it, not verbally at least, and you suppose you twist of your features in near disgust says everything that it needs to as Yunho rolls his eyes at the quiet display of you before him.

“Don't really want you hanging out with that bitch Chaerin, either, but i'm willing to compromise.”

“'Willing'?” you mirror back, shock laden in your tone. “You're telling me who I can and can't hang out with, now? I've known them all way longer than i've known you.”

“Yeah and I don't think that's doing you any favors,” he bites back, finally stepping towards you in a much stronger stride than the way he had entered. “The thing with Seonghwa was humiliating, you're my girlfriend, why the fuck are you going to bat for him? He lost.”

Scoffing, you reel at the fact that the argument is taking place at all with how asinine it is to you.

“This is stupid, you can't tell me who I can spend time with.”

“I can and I will.”

Standing up from the edge of your bed and pushing past him, you swiftly grab your phone and keys from your nightstand on the way out before turning back to him for the final blow.

You pause, having to think twice before delivering it.

“You feel big, Yunho?” You start, contempt heavy in your voice towards him with eyes equally narrow and cutting. “You feel brave only racing people who aren't on your level? Is that why—“

Pausing again, you watch the mans eyes widen at the beginning of the implication, stepping towards you again. “Say it! Say what you were going to say!”

“—that why you never challenged Hongjoong?”

You turn again to leave, but not before long fingers wrap around your arm to stop you. Not especially aggressive or violent but enough to have your heart beating through your chest at the implications — a man putting his hands on you during a heated argument — You still anyways, just in case.

You don't think Yunho would hit you, but frankly, you're not entirely sure, either.

The two of you locking eyes, rage and disdain painting each one of your faces as you stare each other down, Yunho lets go of you almost just as quickly as he had grasped a hold.

And probably regretting it just as much, too.

“See yourself out,” you say just before turning to leave again, and when Yunho asks you where you're going, the only details you grace him with are “out.”

“He put his fucking hands on you?”

The voice rings out from Chaerin — shrill and shrieky through the echoing walls of the mechanic shop, previously rolled up beneath her forest green RX-8 — but quickly wheeling herself out from under it at the sound of the words leaving your mouth.

Hongjoong only a few more feet away; leaned back in a tattered rolling chair that's certainly seen better days and boots kicked up onto a desk that's now used for very little besides holding water bottles and the occasional wrench — as he attempts to dig out oil from underneath a fingernail with a switchblade he adds commentary of his own. “The guy's a piece of shit, got half a mind to slash his fucking tires right in front of his face tonight.”

“Don't bother,” you sigh. “He didn't hurt me, he wasn't violent, but yeah—“

“A man putting his hands on you in any way during an argument is violent,” Chaerin states clearly as she walks towards you to pull you into a hug. “I'm sorry, my love.”

“I'm okay, seriously.”

“You've got to leave him,” the blonde woman adds after your affirmation of being alright with the circumstances. “I mean, this can't keep going on. It was already bad but things are just getting worse, and worse at this point. The cheating, the controlling behavior, now getting physical with you...”

You can't help but glance to your far right towards Hongjoong in an attempt to assess the way that he's intaking the information, but the man appears to be outwardly unbothered — still picking apart the underside of his fingernail with little more to say on the situation.

“We can find you a nice guy,” your best friend says with a smile and a certain cheekiness to her.

“Like Hongjoong.”

First it's a crashing sound, followed by a pointed 'fuck' and turning to follow where the sounds had come from, the sight before you being your ex planted back to the floor, wheels of his chair having given out from beneath him — and a nasty gash in the tip of his finger from the knife once toyed with.

“Are you okay?” you ask, relatively unbothered by the sight before you as Chaerin jogs off to retrieve the first aid kid.

“What's wrong with your friend?”

“How much time do you have?” you chuckle, implication of 'a lot' heavy in the answer. A playful huff from the man following as the blonde woman arrives back with a large enough bandage for the wound and something to disinfect it.

“Someone's jittery.” She says with a knowing grin, which Hongjoong pointedly avoids looking at.

“I drink a lot of coffee.”

“Why did you guys break up, anyway?”

As silence befalls the mechanic shop, you slowly glance towards the woman next to you, flashing a look that says a thousand words in and of itself, but most importantly being: what are you doing right now?

Chaerin mouths “what?” back to you, as if Hongjoong isn't lying just in front of the both of you and fully capable of seeing the display before him, he finally rolls his eyes with a huff — more than exhausted of the situation already.

“Her parents hated me, okay?” he begins, wincing as the tight bandage wraps around his open wound. “Guess I look a little too much like a guy who does illegal street racing for fun and has a DUI.”

Silence again, and you think for a moment that perhaps Hongjoong's admission a bit too raw and unfiltered for what Chaerin had anticipated — a teasing that had begun rather lighthearted, now seemingly serving as a tool for the mans emotional release. It's not much, but for someone who doesn't talk about his feelings all that much, you know how much it really is, and from the way the words sound on the edge of broken by the end of the sentence, most definitely coming from a place of genuine hurt.

“Well,” she begins, and you figure that she's doing it out of a feeling of obligation — the need to respond to something so open and honest, to not leave him hanging. “Parents can be wrong—“

Her eyes now switching to flash to you as she says it.

“—but anyways, it's a good thing there's no races tonight because that's probably gonna hurt like a bitch for a couple of days. I'd recommend staying off of it and not—“

“We never stopped sleeping together.”

It's Hongjoong that you look at first — the man sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth and eyes widening at the words as he slowly turns to look at you with a face that asks 'right, what's all this, then?' and after, it's Chaerin that you glance towards — hers not all that different from Hongjoong's, although you think that if you look hard enough, you can see a sense of having already suspected as much through her features.

If she had thought as much, she keeps it to herself, opting instead to clear her throat and yank Hongjoong back up to his feet with her as the three of you stand up from the concrete floor.

“Never stopped as in...?” She inquires, curious of the exact timeline in relation to Yunho.

“Think we stopped seeing each other for like—“ you pause to think as you glance towards your ex next to you, still relatively shell-shocked by the whole ordeal. You shrug and sigh simultaneously. “A week, after we broke up?”

“So, you've always...since Yunho...”

Lips pulled into a thin line as you're forced to admit such, you nod gently — far from proud of your misdoings, but acknowledging them all the same.

“Wow,” your friend chimes out, eyes wide still with the gathering of new information. Hands pressed to her hips as another layer of quiet wafts over the three of you — Hongjoong not dare speaking out of turn in events such as this — neither of you have to, not with Chaerin around.

“Thank god! It's what he fucking deserves. Fuck that guy.”

Laughing nervously, you understand where she's coming from, of course: as your best friend, and a friend of Hongjoong's much more so now than earlier, to know that Yunho has been repeatedly done wrong in such a way feels a bit like a breath of fresh air — an understanding that through everything that he's put everyone else through, there is still some semblance of justice — somewhere, somehow.

You don't necessarily agree with the feeling, guilt and disgusting swirling around deep in your chest every time you're forced to acknowledge the fact, but perhaps it's admitting to it out loud that will give you the strength to do something with it.

And everything else aside, you've wondered how much of Hongjoong's truth laid bare for you that night on top of the mountain with his confession to you.

The least that you can ask of Yunho — and everyone else involved, for that matter, is for one night where nothing goes wrong.

You're thankful that even in never verbally requesting of it, it seems as though the stars aligned themselves all the same — everyone on their best behavior, and a casual car meet night starting and ending without an argument, or otherwise nasty words exchanged.

The looks are unavoidable — Spirals, Chaerin and the like in Yunho's direction — something he most definitely picks up on yet chooses not to comment. Surprising, for him. A man that always has something to say, including and almost especially in circumstances where it's him that's in the wrong.

But tonight? Nothing.

You heed your boyfriends request: not really with intention of actually doing so, that is, allowing him to control who it is that you can and cannot have contact with, but rather to keep the evening smooth and mellow.

It was a conversation that would see reopening.

“Hey,” you whisper, hand reaching over the center console of his vehicle to wrap delicate fingers around his forearm. “We should talk.”

Putting the car into drive and waving off his friends just before pulling off, you study his face as he remains silent from just next to you — jaw tight and lips pressed thin as he stares ahead — it's as if he's driving, sitting entirely still in the emptying parking garage used as tonight’s meeting place.

Sighing, Yunho closes his eyes for a moment as if to collect himself. You brace for impact.

“I'm sorry.”

And you figure that surprising would be an understatement, eyebrows pushing together as you take in the words just as they left his mouth. Foot pressing to the pedal now as the car slowly drives the both of you off, the man sighs again. “I shouldn't put my hands on you. Not ever. I'm sorry.”

You sort of knew that it was well beyond the scope of what even he finds to be acceptable-assholery, not that it excuses the behavior, but an apology for the goings on feels the least surprising of all of the other potential things the man could have been issuing it for.

Controlling behavior is okay, but he draws the line at getting physical. Guess it's something.

Not enough, though.

“Yeah,” you quietly reply back, not wanting to absolve him of it, nor do you really wish to accept his apology for it. Forgiveness for some things feeling well beyond your scope — suppose it would file under unforgivable. Something that Yunho would have to make peace with on his own time.

“That why you were on your best behavior tonight?” You ask, tone playful but sort of meaning it, also.

Your boyfriend chuckles at the words as the car slows to a halt for a red light just ahead.

“Yeah, kind of,” he says quickly, not needing time to mull it over at all. “I feel bad, it's fucked up—“

Pausing, Yunho leans forward to look out and through his windshield towards something a bit up ahead before sitting back again and glancing to his side at you. “—Mind if I kidnap you for a bit?” he asks with a gentle smile.

Suppose Jeong Yunho serves as your own blind spot.

Car parked in a nearby, open, parking lot — only a handful of street lights illuminating the area, but enough so that it doesn't feel secluded — the man next to you sits back against his custom seat more comfortably, head resting back as well just before turning to face you and stretching his arm out now against the center of the vehicle towards you in and effort to request for your hand in his.

You oblige.

Inhaling heavily — you await the words that seem to linger just on his tongue, the vision of a man still thinking through every thought before allowing them to exit through his mouth — you wonder, if perhaps it's the first time of him having done so. Yunho, so quick with words and thoughtless actions and selfishness, now contemplating everything in a whole new way, a way that you think, perhaps, you've never seen from him before.

“You know I just want what's best for you, right?”

Yuck.

Words carrying into your ears and twisting deep inside your stomach as if doused with poison themselves, it's not at all what you had been hoping to hear: it's an explanation for him being the way he is — it's an implication that you should need him to help you make decisions, to act right, to be good for him, because certainly you're incapable of doing it yourself.

For whatever reason, the memories of when the two of you first started dating come flooding back to you. Holding hands while shopping and movie nights late at your place with your parents home (previously uncharted waters, but your mother liked him so much she allowed it for him), a hand on your thigh when he took you out for a ride in his car, but nothing too dangerous — the assumption that he wouldn't be able to live with himself should anything happen to you while with him.

When perhaps he was the danger itself all along.

But it makes it hard nonetheless. It's never easy when there is love there, memories there — a history. You cared for Yunho, in all of the ways that a girlfriend does, no matter how wronged or slighted or for how long — it's difficult sometimes, to do what's best for oneself when knowing it to be the severance of so many others.

“We should break up.”

But you have to, anyways. Above all else.

You choose to stare forward out of the windshield in front of you — a vivid recollection of the way Hongjoong had you not so long ago just there springing up and into the forefront of your mind as if some cruel reminder that you not be the saint you wish to paint yourself as — that you're not a victim in all of this, not completely.

With dark red hair in your peripheral vision, you see the man dip his head down.

Then delicately pull his hand from your own.

But Yunho opts out of a verbal response, instead using his newly freed hand to start the ignition of his car once again and toss it into reverse. Panic sets in, although, you're not entirely sure why.

“Yunho—“

“I heard you.”

A response curt and lacking any emotion beyond anger, you find it in yourself to finally look towards him fully — jaw clenched hard as you're so used to seeing on him, and eyes narrow with indignation.

Stilling the car again and jamming the shift into drive much rougher than he had been before, he begins pulling off and back onto the road — it's towards your home, that much you are thankful — but you don't imagine the ride there will remain this quiet, either.

“Why?” he asks suddenly, now driving a tad bit faster than before. It's nothing especially dangerous, but you note it all the same. Yunho doesn't give you time to answer, though, before adding onto the inquiry with another thought of his own. “Because I grabbed your arm?”

He sounds stressed, voice pitchier than usual given his typically smoother, deep tone — perhaps panicked at being faced with the dissolution of the relationship.

And just as you're about to answer him, he continues on again.

“Because of him?”

You know who he means without the dropping of the name.

“You can't tell me who I can and can't hang out with, Yunho—“

“You're choosing him over me? Over us? You already broke up with that fucking loser once, how many times do you have to do it before it sticks?”

“It's not about Hongjoong.”

Sort of a lie.

“Then it shouldn't matter that I don't want you hanging out with your stupid ass ex. You miss a guy with a fuckin' DUI? Are you stupid?”

Yunho's tone raising louder and louder, anger bubbling quickly in the confined space of the vehicle, you want nothing more than to be free from the clutches of being there with him.

Sure, you had anticipated the break up to not go over well, but perhaps it was heading into territory you weren't quite ready for.

It's then that the fuel light pops on on Yunho's dashboard — slamming his palm against the steering wheel in frustration at all of these circumstances culminating annoyingly at once, he cusses to himself under his breath before looking just up ahead and on the right for a gas station open.

But what really causes your heart to do a nose dive into your stomach, is the visual of Hongjoong's car pulled up to gas pump three.

“Well, would you look at that,” Yunho sing-songs sarcastically as he pulls in, a man with silver hair just exiting the shop with a bottle of water and keys in hand before briefly looking up just enough to notice the scene before him. “Perfect timing.”

And now you know that tonight is going to be a problem.

Pulling up to gas pump two, Hongjoong slows just to the side of his car before hopping into the drivers seat — as if having some sort of sixth sense of there being a problem — carefully eyeing the EVO as it stills to a halt on the other side of the median separating you.

When Yunho slams the shift into park, the only word exiting his mouth is “out.”

For once, you're thrilled to be taking his direction.

Hopping out of the car with quickness, you shoot Hongjoong a look that says 'there's a problem' that you know has him watching the situation even more intently as he eyes the taller of the two getting out of his vehicle. A loud slamming of his car door — much louder and rougher than he would ever handle his car under normal circumstances — you watch as your ex grits his teeth as Yunho steps towards the two of you and meets Hongjoong face to face with a grin.

Nodding his head towards you, Yunho speaks first. “Ya know this one just broke up with me.”

Hongjoong snorts through his nose at the words, never faltering in his eye contact with the man in front of him. “'Bout time.”

Brave, you think. If Yunho put hands on you then you know he's not above putting Hongjoong on his ass, either.

A slow blink concealing the roll of his eyes as he nods at the words, Yunho keeps his crooked grin plastered across his face. “Big talk for a guy going nowhere, with nothing — you think you're big 'cause you got the girl? Over my dead body.”

You don't know entirely what he means by that. Intention to pursue you in spite of it all? An unwillingness to let the relationship go? A cold chill firing through your blood at the implications of what it means, you warm slightly at the sound of the silver haired man just next to you laughing at the words as he digs into his pockets for his pack of cigarettes — unable to light it due to their current whereabouts.

Hongjoong's eyebrow quirking up at the words as he takes them in — it's a look that almost explicitly explains all of the ways in which he does not take the tallest of the two seriously, in any way. You find it almost comforting, that perhaps he knows something you don't, and thus, you have little to worry about — but with a man known for acting on impulse and making rather poor decisions, who can really tell.

“What're you gonna do?” he questions, cigarette lazily dangling between his lips. “Make her be in a relationship with you, stupid?”

Jaw tense, Yunho steps towards Hongjoong slowly — the movement spiking your anxiety, but cool as a cucumber, the man remains in place with his behind gently pressed against his car and arms folded across his chest.

“If I want something, then it's mine,” he whispers — tone oozing of smugness and superiority.

For the first time ever, you think that Yunho is letting the charade go in full — no more plausible deniability about him being ultimately good or right underneath it all. The real him. This is who he is.

Waving his hand in the warm, late night air, as if evidencing their surroundings to prove his point despite no one else being around. “Maybe you've noticed, with my little collection of your friends' useless tin cans.”

Knowing Spirals and Yunho's propensity to take from them, you know it's a sore spot for Hongjoong, so watching the way in which the leader only drops his chin down to his chest with a grin before cocking his head to the side and glancing back up at the tallest of the three of you — you're unsure of what to expect.

But Hongjoong being so cool about it is probably a bad sign, based on what you know.

“Funny,” he says finally, inhaling sharply before pulling his arms apart again to rifle through his keys for the one leading to his car.

“'Cause if that were true I wouldn't have been laying into her the whole time y'all were together.”

The result comes on quicker than you expect — a fast and strong right hook to Hongjoong's jaw sending him almost barreling across the side of his own vehicle at the contact — Yunho breathing heavily as he rubs at his sore and potentially broken set of knuckles. the man glancing at you and for a second, you worry if you may also meet the same consequence as your mouthy ex, but without a word, and red hair swaying in the wind, Yunho only turns to head back towards his car.

No longer in his sights, you rush over to Hongjoong, delicately touching the place of impact and checking for mobility as he opens and closes his mouth with a wince. “God, he hits like a pussy, too. Unbelievable.”

“Hongjoong.” You whine, because god forbid the man delivering the assault overhear the comment.

“Hey!” Hongjoong shouts, and if you had known him to wish to say more, you'd have done everything in your power to stop him, but with the words already out there, your eyes widen at him, a nonverbal plead to shut the fuck up.

“Race me next Saturday,” he yells, still awkward with his damaged jaw but confident and pointed all of the same. “Not someone in my crew, me. If I win, you leave her the fuck alone and you leave town. That's it.”

You can't see the man, only the sound of him having opened the car door to go off of in relation to his whereabouts, but you hear nothing from behind you for what feels like eons. Then...

“And if I win?”

Pausing to spit out blood and hopefully not a tooth accompanying it to the ground just between his black boots, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, the words come out far too confidently than you'd like them to, especially because you know him to have every intention of keeping his word.

“Then I leave. You get the car, the girl, the team, everything.”

A heavy gust of wind barreling through as silence overtakes the situation, silently pleading with Hongjoong through looks to not agree to this, to not go through with it — looks that you know the man to be purposefully avoiding in his reluctance to make eye contact with you as he asserts the deal — you don't feel any better knowing that the man is willing to put everyone on the line for you, or for whatever this is.

It's reckless, and it's dangerous, and there's got to be another way.

“See you next Saturday.” Yunho says with a tone so matter of a fact, before thrusting himself into his car and taking off just as fast.

When Saturday rolls around, it leaves you wondering where the time went between then and now.

Riding passenger side in Hongjoong's RX-7, you mull over the the happenings of the week leading up to now: countless hours leading into days spent at the mechanics shop with him, Chaerin and the rest of the Spirals team — testing and preparing his car for the impending race with everything and then some riding on it, the anticipation bubbles in your gut in a way that you're unfamiliar with — a race with far too much behind it, more than necessary, and it leaves you wondering why it is that the man driving next to you is willing to give everything up for what effectively boils down to one thing: you.

But with almost no down time between the declaration and the race — Hongjoong spending many nights at the shop, curled up asleep on the cold, beat up, leather couch inside instead of opting to bother with the travel time home when he knows he'll only end up back there early in the morning anyways — it leaves no time for the conversation.

A silent acknowledgment between you, him, and everyone else on your side of the equation.

Trailing behind Chaerin's RX-8 and pulling into the all too familiar roadside lot of the uphill racing track that serves to be Hongjoong's favorite, you figure that the two of them must have hashed it out unbeknownst to you — or it was some sort of understanding between racers for this to be the place that it would happen. The track. Not the most difficult, nor the one offering top speeds (and for that, it could be raced downhill, anyways), but rather the one feeling just right for the sort of situation.

Yunho too proud to decline the invitation to beat Hongjoong on his home terf, his favorite track, the one known to be his best — and Hongjoong all too confident to feel that he could ever be beaten on it.

Setting the car into park, you dare not speak as Hongjoong takes in a deep breath through the silence — a rowdy crowd of racers and onlookers alike heard easily from all around you outside of the car — it feels almost claustrophobic, suffocating in some way, being surrounded by people and the impending happenings of the evening.

Hongjoong looks calm and collected, however.

One hand loosening from the steering wheel to card through short, silver hair before unceremoniously plopping it onto his thigh with a flat palm, he lies his head back against the rest of his seat, turning to look at you finally with a shockingly soft expression.

“Should probably have a talk, huh?”

You can't help the way the corners of your lips curl upwards at the implications of the words. Delicate and caring. You nod.

“You're really just gonna move if you lose a race?” You ask, tone pointed with resistance in the thought of it, but the man next of you pulls his eyes away, head turning back to look out and in front of him at the passersby.

“To be honest,” he starts, thinking through the words a bit more before carrying on. “If guys like that are going to set up shop around here then maybe my time here has run out anyways, maybe it's time to move on.”

“You sound far more willing than I ever expected. You love this town.”

Hearing the exhale through his nose as if amused by the prospect of it, Hongjoong reaches forward and across you into his dashboard, rifling through papers and an empty water bottle in search of something, finally pulling an envelope with no wording sprawled across it — only an emblem.

Placing it on your lap, he nods for you to open it, but not before point out and into the crowd.

“See that guy over there with the hat? Red jacket.”

Squinting, you attempt to follow his finger with your eyes, gazing out and through the crowding of people for whoever it is that the man next to you is wishing for you to locate, all the while digging out whatever it is from this envelope that you're meant to see.

Hongjoong carries on with the thought before you do. “Those red jackets are special, custom order jackets. No one has those. You can't get them.”

“Okay...” you hesitantly acknowledge, finally landing on the man in question. Arms crossed and seemingly alone, he's looking onward — at the track, at the surroundings, and finally, over to the both of you. Nodding in your direction, Hongjoong nods back at him.

“Ever heard of Project D?” He asks.

“Uh, rings a bell. Think I've heard Yunho or Chaerin talk about it, why?”

Hongjoong snorts at the drop of names before speaking again, as if unsurprised by the ones mentioned as having any sort of interest. “Read the letter.”

A questioning look splashing across your features, you do as advised, pulling from his attention and down towards the piece of paper in your hands. It takes you some time to go through it, and then, another moment from reading it over again — because you're quite sure that you must have read something wrong, must have gone through this with a bit of wishful thinking and a simple wanting so badly of things to go good, and right.

But with the second read through and confidence in your reading comprehension, your attention snaps back up and towards Hongjoong — a wide grin sported on his face.

“This...this is—“ you manage to stutter out, heart threatening to beat through your chest entirely as he turns to meet your eyes again.

“Indeed. Turns out someone thinks this guy can drive a car,” he sighs with a sort of nonchalance that has you so taken aback you aren't even sure what to say or think.

Project D. The upper echelon of street racing. Entirely closed off, and run on a strict 'don't call us, we'll call you' type of basis. It's professional, and the dream for just about anyone involved in the sport. a one way ticket out of here, that much is for certain.

So unfamiliar to the common driver that no one here even recognizes the shining red jacket only adorned by drivers on the team.

“His name is Takahashi Ryosuke,” Hongjoong begins again, lazily having a hand out towards the man referenced only a moment ago. “He's the leader of Project D, he came to see me drive. I'm already in, but it's sort of a formality, plus, he's gotta give me my jacket.”

You pause, thinking it through in your mind again and trying to take it all in.

“In front of Yunho?”

Hongjoong laughs, a full laugh at the question. “In front of Yunho.”

Head lying back once again on the headrest of his seat and rolling gently to grant him vision of you — you watch the way his eyes fan over your features, as if taking all of them in for the first time all over again — as if it were to be the first or last time that he would ever see them, and with the calling to action of the racers needing to line up, it pulls your attention up and away with the abruptness of it, but not his — still watching you intently as if trying to read every thought floating through your mind in that very moment.

You figure it's no surprise that you ended up here, with him, like this tonight — all of his plans, everything he does perfectly in line with something that he has in mind — some sort of grand scheme of sorts, and you can't help but wonder for how long it's revolved around you.

'Racers line up, 5 until green!'

Turning back to look at Hongjoong, small hand with painted black fingernails reaching out and towards your own, he grips tightly atop one of them and squeezes lightly just before pulling it from you and shifting his car into drive again.

“So,” he starts, waving towards Ryosuke again before carefully maneuvering his vehicle towards the starting line of the track for a race that means nothing and everything to the both of you simultaneously.

“Want to take a ride with me?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ hope you enjoyed! please check out my navigation for more (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

—this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.

#hongjoong smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n

[daylightdabbles]

Teyvat Omegaverse Headcanons (Act 1)

This is apart of a collection of headcanons for the genshin characters in my Teyvat Omegaverse AU. I would recommend reading this to add some context to this post. I do use some personal headcanons and ideas for omegaverse. SFW Feat: Faruzan, Heizou , Venti, and Xiao

Faruzan, The Enigmatic Machinist

In a country that values betas over omegas or alphas, praising their ability to not be effected by pheromones that may get in the way of the pursuit of knowledge, Faruzan applied scent blockers diligently to show she was different from other omegas. 100 years ago, being an omega or an alpha meant banging on a glass ceiling in order to be heard the Akademiya. Faruzan has had to adjust to a lot of things in her homeland. From losing her place in time, her research no longer being the jewel of Haravatat and everything else that changed, one uncomfortable idea she had to shed was that her outdated views on being an omega.

In the past, Faruzan felt the need to hide her status as an omega in order to advance her research. The Akademiya was crueler than, often passing over funding requests made by alphas and omegas, citing their natural responses to pheromones leaving it likely they would have to 'pause their research in order to engaged in debased behaviors.' This attitude shifted over the last 100 years, the Akademiya becoming less prejudice towards non-betas. When Nahida formally claimed her place as the Dendro Archon, the Akademiya started working extra hard to remove these bias from their practices and regulations. A joyous moment, but one that left Faruzan having to reconcile her past with the present.

It is well known Madam Faruzan does not like being treated like an omega. When Kshahrewar students seek her help, they make extra sure to treat her like a beta, often forgoing gifts they would normally bring to try and ply omega researchers for a crumb of advice. Her standards for respect is well known and she will not hesitate to fight tooth and nail for it, honed from years of having her work discounted because of her secondary sex.

Faruzan is also oddly protective over the alpha and omega students in the Akademiya, offering often unsolicited advice to them on how to get grants and other resources. Her advice is a little dated, and she can be overbearing at times, but it all comes from a place of kindness. She is dismayed by the current standing of Haravatat and struggles to get students who appreciate her teachings, but she is thankful that they don't have to struggle with the same barriers she had.

Her writings also have an interesting history around them. The book made from her writings was used to establish Kshahrewar and caused quite a stir in the Akademiya. Her work was brilliant and was a key point in the arguments against funding discrimination against omegas and alphas, citing that their work was just as impactful as their beta peers.

Madam Faruzan doesn't like to be touched. She spent 100 years locked in a ruin away from others, so shes extra sensitive to touch even for an omega. While most omegas find cuddling and hugs very calming, its way too much stimuli for Faruzan. This tends to be something that makes it hard for her when socializing. She used to be very touchy with the people she held closest to her, relaxing her guard around them, but now they are gone. She thinks about the last time she had a hug that didn't hurt during late nights in her office.

She does secretly partake in things like nesting, even if they are hidden. Her nest is small, tucked away in what used to be an office. Unlike most omegas, Faruzan keeps puzzles near her nest. The blankets are soft and help her stay calm in heat, but she needs some sort of mental stimuli else she gets nervous. It provides her with a sense of a control during a time when her hormones are making her disoriented. She also doesn't cover the windows and her nest is rather open, preferring to avoid dark or tight spaces during her heat.

As an omega, Faruzan doesn't have an identifying scent, or a scent unique to her. Instead, omegas adopt the scent of places they feel safe or of their home. Faruzan's scent is old parchment and metal, mining the scents of her workspace.

Shikanoin Heizou, The Analytical Harmony

Shikanoin Heizou, the number 1 detective in the Tenryou Commission, is an alpha. It's not unexpected: he's confident, smart and plays by his own rules. Despite the fact he doesn't adhere to the expectations of him being a proper Tenryou Commission Doushin or an alpha, Heizou's work speaks volumes about him.

Being an alpha something Heizou take any particular pride in. Inazuma favors alphas, with them traditionally carrying on the family line . Inazuman culture expects omegas to be strong, powerful, dominant leaders of their 'pack' who guide through example, commanding respect from betas and omegas. Heizou gets frustrated when its commented upon that he should be more responsible or and how he should be taking on a leadership position amongst the Doushin. He's happy as he is and doesn't see a reason why he should be considered superior over betas and omegas according to older Inazumans.

He is, however, protective like a stereotypical alpha. Its not uncommon for him to check in on his friends through out the week to see how they are doing. He makes sure to walk people home late at night, in particular omegas. This stems not from a place of viewing omegas as weak, but from knowing just how often they are targeted by criminals.

While Heizou does use his enhanced sense of smell to help in track down criminals and link evidence to certain individuals who touched it, he's content to pursue justice his way and thumb his nose at the expectations for alphas in Inazuma. The only time he takes advantage of Inazuma placing alphas on top of the social hierarchy is when its needed to get information on a case.

Beyond its use in detective work, he's cheeky about being able to pick up on an omega's emotions through scent or tracking someone down. Heizou loves to tease people, popping up by them to see if he guessed where they would be right based on other clues, or poking fun at serious individuals when he catches them being flustered even though their face is stoic.

Heizou really dislikes how the Tenryou Commission building smells. Its part of the reason he spends as much time away from the headquarters as possible. As an alpha, he can smell just how thick with fear, desperation and grief the air is in there. Even the very walls of his office, which he stopped letting people into, is soaked in these scents. It makes it hard for Heizou to focus, even if other alphas in the Tenryou Commission don't seem to be affected by it. He cares about the people he arrests, having empathy for them and the people they leave behind. To be surrounded by such fear makes him feel sick to his stomach.

Heizou is needy when he is in rut. He is almost inseparable from his omega, only leaving their side when its absolutely necessary for the comfort of his S/O. It is the only thing that can cause Heizou to stay in one place for an extended length of time that doesn't relate to his casework. He's soft, fulfilling any need to ensure that his partner's heat cycle passes safely. His rut also makes him more defensive as his hormones make him more anxious, searching for any threats to him or his omega. If he's forced to be separated from his omega, he'll dreams of a familiar alley with two people leaning against the wall, hand in decayed hand.

Heizou's scent smells like vanilla, black pepper and patchouli. Its a complex scent with sweet and spicy layers to it.

Venti, The Windborne Bard

As the Anemo Archon and a wind spirit, Venti doesn't have a secondary sex. This does not stop people from assuming he is an omega, seeing him as a gentle if mischievous traveling bard. Venti leans into this, playing up the act of a simple omega bard here to play music and offer advice at just the right moment.

Mondstadt doesn't place an emphasis on one's secondary sex, instead treating all as equal. Ultimately, it doesn't affect Venti too much to be seen as an omega vs. a beta or an alpha, so he lets people have their assumptions about him. If anything, it tends to help him charm people into giving him more money for his songs.

Venti does find it amusing to see how alphas, betas and omegas act around each other. He chuckles when he sees the bafflement betas sometimes have when an alpha tracks them down or when an omega curses Celestia for making them extra sensitive to Dragonspine's chill. Kaeya, in particular, has the most colorful curses whenever he has to track up the mountain to get Klee from Albedo

Venti's scent helps let people assume he's an omega. Omega's adopt the scent of their home as their personal scent and Venti smells like Mondstadt. He smells like the apples growing in Starfall Valley, the windwheel asters in Bright crown mountains and every other scent the winds of Mondstadt carry. He carries the scent the wind picks up as it travels through Mondtstadt, which makes his scent actually the closest to a real identifying scent of all the archons.

His favorite game to play when he has way too much time on is hands is 'mess with alphas'. He smells like a omega, but he doesn't produce the range of pheromones an omega would. This confuses alphas who try to key in on his emotions through his scent, often leading to them making guesses that are wildly off. All it takes is a pout or a misleading smile to make them flustered. Diluc has taken revenge for this a few times by purposely luring a cat into Angel's Share.

Most of the Church of Barbatos assumes he would be an alpha based on how protective he is of people in the scripture, so pretending to be an omega helps Venti avoid detection. It also made his attempts to gain access to the Holy Lyre Der Himmel harder because people didn't believe that the tiny omega bard could be Barbatos. Every time he is forced to reveal his identity, he has to deal with the double take. He knows he's short, but come on? He doesn't need to be a big scary alpha to care for his people!

Xiao, The Vigilant Yaksha

Despite being a Yaksha and not having a secondary sex, Xiao has been referred to as an omega by humans for centuries at this point. It developed through a combination of stereotypes, mistranslated of stories and his protective nature that led to this. Early art showed that Xiao was smaller than other Yaksha and his zeal in protecting Liyue has lead people to believe he's an omega who has claimed the whole of Liyue as his nest, his area to protect.

Xiao had mixed feelings once he caught on to this happening. He figured it out when he started to notice pilgrims leaving soft blankets, pleasantly scented balms and even gifts usually associated with alphas courting omegas in Liyue. After some investigation, Xiao was a little miffed that Liyuens assumed he was someone who didn't spend every night of his life fighting to keep them safe, mostly because omegas in Liyue tend to be stereotyped as fragile, delicate humans who shouldn't see the battlefield. Poets wrote lamentations on the Conqueror of Demons, forced to defend Liyue after his pack died as there was no alternative.

Xiao stewed over this for a while. He did lose his fellow Yaksha and mourns in his quiet way, but felt like this view of him was reductive. He defends Liyue to uphold his contract to Morax, dedicating his life to fighting demons to honor how the Geo Archon saved him. It wasn't done out of grief, nor something he was saddled with. It was a choice he doesn't regret, even as his karmic debt hangs over him.

After meeting the Traveler and spending more time around Liyue Harbor, Xiao starts to learn the nuances of this view of him. He originally only knew about secondary sexs through flowery poetry or hearsay, so it was pleasantly surprising to learn more about why people associate him with omegas. He doesn't discriminate over those he protects, guarding Liyue as an omega guards their nest. Its a softer view of him that most people actually hold, one of a caring protector. There are even people who invoke his image in telling stories of hurt omegas, claiming him as their protector in stories.

The Vigilant Yaksha is still mostly confused by secondary sexs, such as why omegas are viewed as 'emotional' and alphas get pushed into roles of leadership, often being pressured into ignoring their own emotions. Its a little silly to Xiao, to treat humans differently based on something given to them as birth, but he's content to be seen as an omega, the guardian of their homes and a figure they can draw strength from in dark moments.

Xiao doesn't have an identifying scent, but he smells like qingxin and almonds to most people. However, alphas can detect the nearly invisible scent of blood that clings to him like a leech.

#teyvat omegaverse au #genshin x reader #genshin impact #shikanoin heizou #xiao #genshin xiao #genshin venti #venti x reader #xiao x reader #heizou shikanoin x reader #heizou x reader #faruzan x reader #genshin headcanons #omegaverse headcanons #omegaverse

[gffa]

Padme is a character that’s difficult to talk about narrative intentions with, because she’s so underwritten in so many ways and written to serve Anakin’s narrative arc (she’s not alone in this, I would say it’s fair to point out that Obi-Wan gets this as well) that she’s there to be the person Anakin is filling himself up with after the loss of his mother.  She’s there to be the person he can’t let go of, the person he becomes attached to, because her presence soothes him. As much as I might disagree with it, I do think the narrative intention is that Anakin is still a good person at this point (or at least capable of being a good person), that Padme is there to show him compassion and help him step back away from the dark side.  These were his first steps into the dark side, he wants to become more powerful than any other Jedi to stop death from happening, and Padme is there to show that he is still capable of letting those things go, even if we know he ultimately won’t. For Padme, the way he lashes out shows a vulnerability that pulls on her heartstrings, like when he tries to provoke her by saying he killed the women and children as well, he’s crying at the same time, we the audience can see it as a red flag, but Padme’s heart is twisting itself around for him. There’s theorizing that goes around every so often of the, “Padme Amidala is a freak, okay, she wanted to dive face first into the hot mess that was Anakin Skywalker” type and I see a lot of truth in that, I think part of her absolutely thrilled at all that hot mess being beamed in her direction, that she loved the whirlwind romance of it, that she cherishes her duty to her people that she swore to help, but that she can’t help being swept up by the romantic idealism of Anakin, who blows right past all common sense and leads with his hurricane of emotions. This meta about Padme being super into the sweeping epic romance of it all is another part of her character:

This scene ends with her giving in, with her leaning into the kiss, because she’s so moved by him setting his lightsaber in her hand, telling her that this is his life. Or there’s this banger meta by @gil-estel about how Padme is drawn to Anakin because, to her mind, wants Padme for her.  That he doesn’t want anything of her politics or her role as a former queen or senator, that he’s her chance to have this relationship that’s just hers.  I can see a lot of that in her character, too! Or this other banger meta by @antianakin that’s about her connecting with Anakin’s anger, that it’s when she sees all that anger in him that her last barriers against him are destroyed, because she felt that.  That, when she tells him, “To be angry is to be human.” is because she’s familiar with that kind of anger. And I think I can really see that. Even when that rage turns on her later in TCW and she no longer feels safe around him, she does go back to him, she does reject the idea that Anakin would kill Jedi younglings (crossing the line of what’s understandable, even if it’s wrong), she's even willing to overlook it once she can't deny it, and say she still wants to run away with him. It's not until he refuses to meet her even a little bit in the middle that she finally realizes who he's become, the destination all that rage was heading towards. It's something I can sympathize with for her, so many of us feel so much rage at the horrific things that happen in the world, it's not hard for me to imagine Padme falling for someone who grabs hold of that rage, that kind of rage she feels but has to keep setting aside because her duty demands it of her, because she knows that she wouldn't actually accomplish what she wants with that rage, and put it together with the Padme we see. Look at Padme in The Phantom Menace.

It’s not hard to read helpless anger in her character, at being unable to help while her people are dying.  It’s not hard to read into her that some part of her would wish she could just take a blaster and shoot all the Trade Federation members dead for what they’re doing to her planet. They’re her people, she loves them and wants to protect them, of course she’s angry at what’s happened to them. Or when Onoconda Farr is murdered, Padme immediately leaps into investigating it because she doesn't like or trust the police, Tan Divo doesn't take her as seriously as she wants, she takes all that anger she has inside her and does something about it. She investigates who might want him dead, she grabs a gun and goes to the docks, despite that she's a senator, not a police officer.

She is so angry about what happened to her friend that she doesn't care about the rule of law, she doesn't care that she could be jeopardizing the case, she doesn't care that she's stomping over people's rights--her friend was murdered and she's furious about it. Uncle Ono was her dear friend, she loved him, of course she’s so angry at what happened to him. It's not an anger that always rears its head, Padme has more self-control than that, but sometimes it explodes out of her, and I think that's part of what attracts her to Anakin, he's someone who has all the same anger that she does, he doesn't care about rules when he's furious about something, and even if that means stepping on some people or hurting people or killing people along the way, she understands that kind of feeling. This is the person who comforts Anakin on Tatooine with the words, “To be angry is to be human.”

Someone who has compassion in her heart, but also intimately knows what it’s like to have that same anger that Anakin has. Padme doesn’t have to be consigned to just one reason for showing Anakin compassion on Tatooine.  It can be a multitude of things, that she’s underwritten and just there to further Anakin’s story, that she’s a kind-hearted person who sees the good and the pain in Anakin, that she doesn’t consider the Tuskens to be human-equivalent, that she’s falling for him because she’s a freak who’s into this hot mess, that she’s attracted to the epic romance of it all, that she viscerally understands what it’s like to be that fucking angry, that you want to murder someone for the people they killed. I like a combination of all of the above, because even if I can’t speak to what Lucas intended with her--if he even intended anything with her--I love Padme’s character and all the complex things that are going on with her.

#anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anidala #meta #long post

[shiut]

Both danganronpa and even rain code have this underlying but incredibly persisting theme of the cognitive dissonance between one's personality vs their own nature that I can't help but think about a lot.

In my head I tend to call it the "Leon paradox" because he's the first and most obvious character I think of in regards to this, though he's far from being the only one. Despite being an effortlessly talented baseball prodigy, he dislikes doing it and his actual passion is becoming a musician. However, he's pigeonholed into doing something he doesn't enjoy simply because he's good at it and it's a means to an end since it's his only way of getting anywhere.

This gets expanded in dr2. Imposter's dissatisfaction with having to always be someone else. Akane not caring about being a gymnast much at all aside from the perks it gets her. Nagito's disdain for his luck talent that brings him constant misery while also acknowledging that it's the one thing about himself that he can count on the most.

It even becomes a focal point with Hajime, who did everything to fight his nature of lacking a talent. However, Chiaki points out that it's the fact that he has no specific talent that gives him more freedom than any of the ultimates that he admires. Turned out, gaining every talent put Hajime into his own prison, and it's his loss of personality that made him essentially useless.

Even in V3 you have Kaede who actually loves her talent so much that she feels like it's an obsession that affects her ability to socialize normally. Kokichi also seems to have brief moments where he acknowledges that his talent is a huge barrier to being able to actually connect with people and causes his loneliness, but decides that it's a compulsion that's too troublesome to change so he just accepts it.

Shuichi sticks out to me when it comes to this theme. He's extremely good at detective work and will often do it on impulse regardless of reward. However, even just stumbling on his first murder case and solving it before the police could even touch it, he could not cope with the results of the person he'd affected. His emotional sensitivity traumatized him into being avoidant, even using a hat as a literal blinder. He was prepared to die in the first trial in fear of revealing the truth. His compulsion to do detective work even kind of ruined Kokichi and Kaito's plot in ch5, as he got so ahead of himself with revealing the truth that just kind of blurted everything out before realizing that he shouldn't have. His compulsion with detective work even seems to make him comparatively calmer and more focused during investigations than the other protagonists, despite easily being the emotionally weakest-willed out of all of them. He repeatedly keeps falling back into his talent despite the emotional toll it has on him because he just can't help himself. He kind of acts as an example of one of the reasons why Kyoko was trained to be emotionally detached.

Jin actually is very much like Shuichi. He tries to actively avoid detective work because he despises the emotional detachment required for it. You wouldn't even know that he's actually really good at it, but you see glimpses into his skill in the novels where he'll end up figuring things out before even Kyoko does on more than one occasion. I can talk a lot about Jin, but I do get the feeling that one of the reasons why he works at Hope's Peak is because he knew more about what would end up happening there than he let on. He probably could have gotten quite a few things done if he wasn't so insistent on fighting his own nature as a detective.

Very honorable mention to Yui, who turned down an invitation to Hope's Peak for her high-jumping talent in order to pursue her passion as a very mid detective. She might've even lived if she went to Hope's Peak because I'm pretty sure she would've graduated by the time of the tragedy, but at least she died in the most based way possible by rejecting them.

And of course, Junko is a prime example of the detrimental effect of talent. Because of her analytical abilities, she can practically guess everything that's going to happen. Her obsession with despair is a desperate attempt at being mentally stimulated in a society that has let the status quo stagnate to such a critical degree that it's the reason why the very concept of talent had been rotted to this point. Sorry to Kodaka, who has repeatedly said that Junko is meant to be a truly evil villain with no motivation, but he did kind of accidentally give her a motivation in dr0 where we're shown for a fact that without her memories and ability to analyze, she's relatively normal and tame. That is her nature, just a kind of weird girl who wants to be a tradwife and go grow corn somewhere. However, I think it can be argued that what is meant by "pure evil with no motivation" is that she doesn't have any sort of tangible tragic backstory. You can even say it's not her analyst ability alone that caused her madness, since there's plenty of normal non-world-ending analysts. It may simply be that her personality happened to mix terribly with her talent, and that's the nature of what makes her pure evil, because both of those aspects of her are part of her nature that she can not (nor does she even want to) control despite the misery it causes her. She simply learned to love the misery.

Makoto himself is very clear about being bitter about his luck. For the most part, what's apparent to him is that it causes him constant trouble and the good that it actually does for him is so subtle and disjointed that he doesn't even realize it's his luck. However, I think what makes him different from people like Nagito or Junko is his personality. He doesn't obsess like they do, and his optimism makes him bounce back easily. I think his luck even feeds into his personality and, inverse to Junko, it's the unpredictability of his luck that makes him hopeful and optimistic. Since he never knows what's going to happen to him, he had to develop a way to roll with the punches.

The aspect of personality vs ability also carries over to rain code. The master detectives are people who have innate psychic abilities that are seemingly based on their nature, and then it gets refined and specialized based on their personality. Not only does their personality help to refine these powers, but you see that their personalities and abilities often have detrimental impacts on each other.

Halara can't see living things in their postcognition because they aren't good at looking at people. Pucci's ability makes her hearing so sensitive that it's at least partially caused her emotional detachment. Melami not only likes fashion so much that she must wear the clothes of someone to use her power, but she also has to actually like the clothes too. Vivia is constantly fatigued and has depressive tendencies due his tenuous attachment to his spirit.

Former Number One/Makoto are a great example of this sort of destructive feedback loop of cognitive dissonance. You can infer that their empathy and obsession with helping people is what gives them the ability to use coalescence and share anyone's abilities, yet it's the fact that they can do anything that makes them feel like they must do everything. Ironically, the fact that they've convinced themselves that they must do everything makes their ability essentially useless because they end up only working alone. As a result, Former Number One became detached with every emotion except for his obsession, and it's what caused Makoto to ultimately spiral.

#danganronpa #rain code #raincode #rain code spoilers #my analysis #shiutpost

[the-s1lly-corner]

Could you do A, C, I, G, K, L, and P for EJ in the fluff alphabet? It would make me reallyyyy happy :3

Fluff Alphabet w/ EJ!!

ive been waiting for someone to do EJ you dont understand!!! i saw this earlier but the power went out when i finally had time to sit down and get to writing </3 my apologies as for other stuff/for everyone else, requests are still open, and the fluff alphabet will be open indefinitely!!

ATTRACTION- Honestly I think you gotta be a real catch to end up as Jacks partner, considering his entire hermit thing... I personally think that he separates himself from society after he becomes Eyeless Jack via a funky cult sacrifice thing... which he was kinda pretty much unwillingly roped into. I think he would want someone who's capable of taking care of themselves, and perhaps someone whos smart. maybe even lower maintenance. its not that he doesnt want to treat you as you deserve, its that sometimes he cant given he sometimes legitimately goes feral (though this is only really due to him pushing off his needs, blood frenzy type deal for when he pushes off eating people, can get real ugly). understanding as well, he needs someone whos willing to be understanding of his position and current predicament and know that eventually jack is going to fully not. be there anymore one day (possible angst idea? ooo?) but also even before the whole, demon thing, jack wasnt the most cheery or social and things definitely havent changed

CUDDLING- hes really cold so thats good for hot nights! not good for cold ones though </3 but hey maybe you guys are somewhere where its perpetually hot. as for the actual act of cuddling, he prefers to be the big spoon. likes sleeping closer to the door, kinda makes a barrier of himself for you in case someone were to come in. which is unlikely since if this were his place, its literally a cabin in the woods in bumfuck nowhere, but the point still stands. only engages if youre asleep or ask for it. if youre the one holding him, he kinda. freezes still and doesnt dare move. poor dude, hes so scared hes going to bite you or something

GIFT GIVING- since he lives in the woods and doesnt have a job he cant exactly go out and give you gifts. he also isnt fond of taking belongings from victims, since he already takes pieces of their bodies. coughs. anyways, i think hes more of an act of service person (will talk more about that in L)

INJURY- youre in luck, he had plans to be a doctor, thats what he was going to college for! plus i think he had a little fixation on medical stuff in general growing up. little hc that his other choice was to be a microbilogist. idk, i can see it. but i dont think it needs to be said that neither became reality. but he does know how to treat some injuries and illnesses! so youre both in luck! but how does he react, emotionally? honestly, as long as youre not bleeding while hes in his frenzied state hes more than willing to help you... although its more so because he doesnt want the scent to trigger anything in him... he cares about you, i promise! its just that ultimately its better he doesnt go feral on you- now if he was the one injured hes already patching himself up... oh but imagine convincing him to let you clean up a wound he got while trying to do his thing.... ouuuugh... let the man be vulnerable, let him be taken care of... ueueue... anyways- yeah

KISSES- he doesnt wear his mask when hes at your place or his cabin- in fact he only really wears it when hes 'hunting' or 'prowling', so!! loves kissing your cheek. will absolutely refuse to kiss you if hes just ate, though, let him wash his face and brush his teeth first. and change his clothes. he likes being kissed anywhere; forehead, mouth, cheeks, hands, ect ect ect. now in terms of frequency i dont think he likes it too often, but that may be some internalized thing about no longer being worthy of love or something but hey who am i to say (loudly winks)

LOVE LANGUAGE- as previously mentioned, acts of service is how jack shows his appreciation and love for you. need something done? hes on it! need to do some chores but dont feel like it? you dont even need to ask! stuff like that, hell, even if something doesnt need to be done he will probably tinker at it and try to make it better if its an appliance or something that can be upgraded to be more efficient and effective. when it comes to receiving he likes words of affirmation, this man has been through hell and hes still going through it, so reassuring him that you still love him even though hes changing makes things a little less scary

PET NAMES- he likes calling you babe and baby. he likes being called hon! doesnt really do petnames, he finds saying someones name intimate enough... which honestly i kinda agree with, i kinda hate how utilized it is in romantic media. just two characters loving each other, sharing a moment, and one softly utters the others name in a sweet tone. GUH!!!! anyway

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagine #eyeless jack headcanon

[gasolineghuleh]

How would each Papa react to being asked if they would still love you if you were a worm?

yesss finally people are asking the real question

Primo:

He's real confused for a split second and then grins at you really wide, genuine joy on his face.

"You had the dream again, didn't you? I told you, Sister, if you concentrate on how much the Earth is a part of you, you will dream that you are a part of it!"

It takes you a solid five minutes to explain both the joke /and/ the question, and by the end of it you're practically gasping with laughter.

"What kind of worm? An- an- an earth worm or a- a- Stop laughing! or a pretty one that I see in my garden sometimes?"

Howls laughing when you correct him that that was probably a caterpillar.

It turns out he confused worm and caterpillar for a moment.

It becomes an inside joke.

Secondo:

"A what."

Sighs and rubs his temples, head down towards his desk as he closes his eyes and just.. collects himself.

"Is this a game that the kits have made? Hm?"

Eventually grumbles in acceptance of your persistence and agrees that he would still love you.

Quickly hurries you out of the office just as he starts to laugh, mumbling to himself about worms and crazy Sisters.

Terzo:

Immediately just as confused as Primo.

"What- what do you mean, sorella? Why are you an- a worm? Of course I love you, baby, you are mia cara! A worm does not change this thing!"

Mentions it again when you get ready for bed that night, coming out of the bathroom mid-teeth-brushing. "Do you think that I do not love you enough, sorella? Is this why the worming question?" and is almost 100% genuinely worried.

The language barrier is definitely an issue here, which makes it almost funnier to you when he finally catches on on and starts to volley back with you.

When you finally break and start laughing he joins you, flopping onto the bed on his back and laughing loudly. "What about if- if I was a bird? Could I perch on you?"

Turns into a longer than you'd like to admit conversation of "would you still love me"'s and "what if"'s before you two stop, stomachs aching with laughter and faces sore.

Copia:

"Ai, Sister, not you too... The Ghouls teach you this one? They learned it from the Tiktok, or something."

When you whine at him to humor you and ask the question again with a bit more force he rolls his eyes, but plays along.

"Yes, of course I would. I would love you as a worm, or a bird, or a cat. I would love you because you are you, and you are mine."

It actually makes you a bit more emotional that you'd like to admit from such a simple question that you wind up dropping it in favor of a kiss and a hug.

Prepare for him to return the question at some point, albeit a slightly different version.

"If we were rats, Sister... Do you think we would still love each other? I do."

#lorraine writes #fics #ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfiction #fanfiction #ghost fanfic #reader insert #ghost bc fic #ghost fic #papa emeritus iii #papa iii #terzo #papa emeritus #reader x iii #reader x papa emeritus iii #reader x terzo #reader x papa #papa emeritus ii #secondo #papa ii #reader x papa ii #reader x secondo #cardinal copia #copia #popia #papa iv #papa emeritus iv #reader x copia

[rainbowcarousels]

Three years ago, I did a AGSZC post about how they love or at least lust and I thought I would bring it back and see what's different.

Genesis

Pansexual as fuck. Likes the wine, not the label. Also more of a casual fucker than anyone else because sex can just be something fun to do and sometimes variety of the spice of life. He is also the spice of life, so it works well.

Love language is touch so he is absolutely the person who does random touches throughout the day, from reaching over to push back hairs to 'accidental' hand brushing, he's like a cat who doesn't want you to know they want your attention while simultaneously pushing you to give them the attention.

I think a lot of people think he's fussy but he's not, he's just big on body reclaimation especially after degradation. Being able to shift his look, to feel a little softer in his own space, it's an important part of why Shinra has never been the be all entity for him. As such, I think he pushes for the same for people he loves as part of that sense of love because he values that independence and self expression. He likes to bring a little chaos and impulse to things so he likes to push and challenge, especially in bed.

Highest sex drive of the lot of them, but is also probably the person most versed in his own body too because he both took the time to figure out what he liked. Also his skills really translate well to sex. He's a mage so he's good with his hands and his dexterity, he's learned to roll his tongue to do more than recite the plays inspired by LOVELESS and he feeds off of reactions then responds in kind.

Possessive as all hell, he likes to see his handiwork in all manner of places. He's a biter, he's a scratcher and he will write on them with anything to hand. There has definitely been some knifeplay with that writing.

While he can seperate sex and love, when the two mix is generally when he's in his element. Whether that's the kind of puppy love he has with Angeal, the demanding ferocity of Sephiroth, the casual enthusiasm of Zack or the intense connection of Cloud, it's a different experience for him and he never treats anyone exactly the same. He would 100% have a good time with Tifa and the sheer power of that woman but if we go JBSWM-verse, baby sister called dibs and being violently possessive of loved ones seems to be a family trait.

Sephiroth

Has a tendency to think practically about sex as a biological thing, right up to the point he can push out of that mindset and then, it's all pure desire and instinct. Everything becomes want and need very quickly once he's made up his mind and then he's just all about completely enveloping the other person into himself. There is a reason he wants everyone to be inside him canonly, okay? It's just some misplaced kink.

Generally a little touch starved when he was younger so he's very touch focused as an adult. Like there is a reason he likes nails down his back or bites or anything that really gets under his skin and takes a while to leave. It's this evidence of something important.

For someone who has largely used his body as a weapon to inflict violence, also really into wringing out the most pleasure that he can. Once someone is below those barriers, I think he has a lot of fun getting genuine responses from people. The kind of things that they may not notice in themselves but he files away as part of something they like. Even with himself, I think he notes things like how he's all about how different things feel.

Absolute bastard too, total tease when he's being controlling and thus when those tables get turned and he chooses to give that up, it's always about getting pushed to his limits. That's why it's always with someone he loves and trusts enough to do that - he may not have a choice in how his body was/is used in some ways but in the ways that matter to him, he is very particular about who he lets near him and how much he'll trust them. I think this is the core of Genesis's desire to get a very vocal response some day, he wants to try and wipe the restraints of this away and get him swallowed up in the moment while being swallowed down.

Way more tentative about being the instigator, but again, I think that's just because he's so much in the spotlight that so little of his life is his that he's obscenely possessive of what he has and the public do not deserve to intrude on it.

Least straight of the bunch. There's only one pussy that ends up in his bed and it's him. (Sephiroth as cat jokes will never get old and I will not apologise for them.)

Angeal

Surprisingly, I think he's the one who has the most sharing when we're doing things on the poly side. I don't think it's so much possessiveness as he has a very traditional idea of what a love story is and can't always seperate himself from the idea that love is about being someone else's everything and that makes it harder with multiple people involved. He might advocate sharing but he's not always a big fan of it, so he does like a lot of one-on-one time to try and sate that feeling.

I also think comparatively, Angeal's the most 'straight' of the bunch. Genesis slipped under the wire because he's 100% demi and that connection means that what parts he had wasn't really a deal breaker and Sephiroth got in under the 'Sephiroth defies categorisation' rule. If you want to extend that to Zack, he comes under Genesis any twenty minutes you let them be bored alone together as another person where it's how he knows him and if you want to add in Cloud, well, he does like the spitfires, doesn't he? I think baby Genesis made an impression.

Care as a love language. Absolutely loves to feel needed, to take care of who he's with even if he can roast them during doing so. It's about giving them food, making them comfortable and pushing out of his comfort zone when he can because he does love them. He likes to make love more than fuck, I'm not even sure he knows how to just fuck. The two things are so linked for him.

Does enjoy the commander role in bed, which is pretty funny when he's with people who outrank or are the same rank as him. I think he enjoys the idea of just getting under their skin enough to let them relax and he can just take care of everything - but not right away, this is someone who screams edger to me both for himself as a sense of denial and for whoever he's with.

Rarely has anal sex. Not because of a lack of enjoyment, it's just that - as I think I wrote somewhere before - it's not just his wallet that's tight. He has trouble relaxing into it and I think it takes a lot longer and they just don't really have the time. He does however have large fingers and knows how to use them. I like to think this came from Genesis being ready to be sexually active before he was so he got a lot of practice in doing other intimate things before he was ready for that.

Zack

Pure energy and enthusiasm, Zack is just someone who's up to try anything and roll with it. I don't think he always likes everything but he's maybe the most open minded of the lot and loves trying new experiences. I don't think he takes sex particularly seriously often, it's something fun, it's a great release of endorphins and as such, I think he can dial down the intensity best and just be funny and silly with it.

100% has no preference between genders, he is an equal opportunity guy and if you ask, he might say yes regardless. I think he and Genesis are the most likely people to have fucked someone else they work with and still get on okay with them. I think he's just trying to get the most of his experiences without labelling them.

That doesn't mean he can't get intense. I think when he's gotten right into the moment, he can get very intense and instinctive. Like he might be a dope and he might squeal like a puppy but I think with him it's a matter of needing everything all at once. He's impatient so I do also think that means he pushes himself over the edge a lot sooner than he often means to.

Honestly I think his love language is wound up in that almost starry eyed sense of what love is, like it's a big feeling and he's not always great at expressing those because it's serious and really important. When he tries, he pulls it out as doing things for people in a way that's similar to Angeal but I think that makes sense. He's grown up with Angeal so it feels like humour and acts of service would translate. Like he is little sloppy in bed, there's no finesse to it, but he's absolutely about to make sure everyone has a good time.

Falls in love easily. He's a little spacy, he doesn't have the best track record for his attention span, but in the moment when he's with someone, they're his entire world. He has a great sense of devotion, we see it in canon with Cloud, but I don't think how spacy he is makes him easy to deal with so I think that's why he needs someone who understands that.

Cloud

I think Cloud does actually prefer men but in the same way as Genesis snuck under Angeal's wire, Tifa kind of snuck under his and they have a similar sense of young love. As such, I think he tends to lean more masculine for type but really, people who kick ass is probably his sexuality.

So sensitive to touch. Seriously. He is so easy to get worked up and get a very vocal response out of and he is so mad about it. I don't think it's voluntary, he's just someone who gets off on being given a lot of touch - both rough and affectionate - so it's easy to get him overwhelmed and squirming. We've all seen the Wall Market scene, it's practically a canon trait.

While I think he can match anyone's energy - well maybe not Zack, but who can? - I think when he's instigating anything sexual, he doesn't really leave wiggle room for interpretation. This isn't the 'gentle touches so you know I want to' with Angeal, it's not 'pushed into the nearest wall' like Sephiroth once he decides he wants it or Zack coming straight out and asking but I think the closest is probably Genesis in that he wants to challenge and be challenged. He wants pushback, he wants to feel it and they're damn well going to feel it tomorrow if he has anything to do with it.

I think as the person with the least experience in relationships and sex, he's a little more tentative. I think he enjoys finding kinks he enjoys, but it's a gradual gliding in and not jumping right in to trying it. There is a part that wants to seem aloof and will pushback against the idea he needs anything or anyone but I think the right people can dismantle that by dismantling him in the best way.

Chronic blusher and hates himself for it. Can and will attempt to hide it and it's genuinely pretty funny to see someone that turned on and that grumpy, no wonder Zack tends to get the giggles.

I will probably add to this at some point but it was fun to think about!

#ff7 #headcanons #fic: just be still with me #agszc #spicy thoughts #i will probably add to this later but this is what came to mind at 1am #long post