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misted-dream · 4 months

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🏎️ catch my drift ⋆ ๋࣭ ⭑ racer rival!mark x fem!reader

content | rivals to lovers, racing!au, slight slow burn, smut, plot centred fic, mentions of passed loved ones, some fluff

warnings | unprotected sex, head, praise(?), alcohol consumption, profanity, allusion to drugging

word count | 14k (2k of just pure smut)

synopsis | it's been a few years since you've started street racing. slowly, but surely you've been climbing the ranks and now, you're considered one of the best on the scene. however, the emergence of a totally new face sparks... interesting discussions. how could it be that no one's ever seen him before, and yet, some might argue he's on par with your level. with the end of the year race coming, you've got a lot more to prove this time round with a new enemy hot on your wheels.

author's note | i know absolutely nothing about cars but i always found the appeal of being a racer so 😟😟 anyways!! this is def on the longer side but for my first one, i decided to be a little self-indulgent. hope you give it a read!

night lights blur into a singular entity as you speed through streets, intersections, and shortcuts. the body of your hair whipped up by the wind—you know you should be wearing a helmet, you know it full well, but you rushed out of the door tonight and simply forgot. your fingers grip onto the handles of your motorcycle even tighter as your bike accelerates even more. the stinging as wind enters your eyes is becoming nearly impossible to ignore, but you persist, knowing there's only a little bit left to go.

extending your fingers to the brake, you slowly begin to come to a halt in front of a bright white sign, flashing: open 24 hours! sat on the curb below the sign was haechan. he doesn't even wince at your abrupt appearance, no flinching at how close you stopped next to him. "took you long enough," he utters without looking up from his phone.

"that took me 7 minutes—10 at worst," you shoot back.

he gives an overtly exaggerated sigh before mumbling, "whatever," but made sure it was loud enough so you can hear. shoving his phone in his pocket, he springs to his feet, "ramen?"

after pushing your bike into the somewhat hidden employees' parking slots and resting it against the wall, you follow haechan into the convenience store.

soon enough, the two of you come out with instant ramen bowls that are hot to the touch. haechan sits back down on his spot on the curb, being careful not to spill any of the hot water onto himself and you do the same.

"so," haechan says in a tone that almost mimics an announcement. "how are you feeling?"

while in the midst of setting your bowl down next to you, a breath escapes you, nearing on the edge of a scoff. "great. thanks for asking," you put your chopsticks over the top of the foil lid of the bowl.

"really?" though you're not looking directly at him, you can picture haechan's eyebrows shooting up as he says that.

you lift your head to make direct contact with haechan's gaze. "why would i lie?"

haechan doesn't shy away from your stare, in fact, he seems to study your expression for any sign of disjointedness. after a beat or two, he resumes, "people can get nervous, you know," he breaks away from looking at you to pick up his bowl of ramen, "like most of the population does. you don't have to hide it," one of his shoulders rises as if to imitate a shrug.

using the palm of your hand, you push on his arm slightly swaying him away from you. "asshole," you mutter, evoking a muffled chuckle from haechan.

you go to take the chopsticks off of the lid and uncover the bowl; steam rises, hitting your face.

"i'm kidding," haechan chews, and then swallows impassively. "i know you have nothing to be nervous about."

"hopefully, not."

"did i suddenly shake you up or something? you sounded confident enough a minute ago."

you use your chopsticks to give your ramen a stir before bringing it up to your mouth and carefully blowing on it. "no," you say before stuffing a mouthful of noodles into your cheeks. "but who knows what will happen? like, last year, those freak accidents?"

haechan seems to give what you said a careful thought. "i think we all know they weren't just 'accidents,'" he pauses at his last word. "people always take the closing race so seriously--"

"yeah, and you know why," you jump in, one side of your mouth still full.

haechan rolls his eyes. "yeah, yeah, prize money—all that. but, they act like it's worth sabotaging other people for it."

you sit with his words for a minute. they ring a certain truth to it, but to some extent, you can also understand the motive behind the so-called "sabotage" that haechan was talking about. you were sure that you would never stoop so low—but again, you've never been put into a position where you had to cross that line.

the two of you continue wolfing down your midnight snack in prolonged silence.

"renjun asked about you the other day."

and with that simple sentence, it catches you off guard. you try your best to stifle a cough by sipping on some of the ramen broth—salty to the point that it reminds you why you shouldn't have done that. "what did he say?" despite sparing no effort to sound unaffected at the sound of his name, a waver in your voice can be heard if you paid close enough attention.

haechan finishes the remaining broth in his bowl before giving you an answer. "you know, the same old." an answer that's barely an answer.

you're unsure whether you should prod to find out more, or if you should just leave the topic here. you know what you would find out if you asked, anyway, so even though your lips opened up to respond, nothing came out of you.

"he's worried about you."

the word strikes a familiar chord within you. worry. as expected, it's nothing you didn't already know; he's always been worried.

"i'm not telling you this to try and change your mind about anything; i know you well enough to know you won't," haechan continues, "but maybe just talk to him."

"and say what?" instead of sounding defensive, your tone instead comes across as helpless, and haechan simply shrugs. "we're never going to see eye to eye on this. he wants me to stop racing. if i do now, what was it all for? if i don't win now, then everything i've done, i've done for nothing."

haechan inhales a deep breath. he lifts up his hand and lands two pats on your knee. "then, tell him that," he adjusts his body so he can get up on his feet, "the both of you are stubborn, and i don't want to play middleman anymore."

haechan stands towering over you still sat on the curb, his shadow casted over the entirety of your body. he extends a hand toward you, a sheepish grin overtaking his face and you know what he's about to ask you: "be a gentleman and give me a ride home?"

you take his hand, pulling yourself up from the ground. making sure the annoyance is visible on your face, you cock your head in the direction of your bike, "sure, i guess."

...

after dropping haechan off at his apartment, you return to yours. the rest of the night seems to pass like a blur. and before you know it, you're in front of your apartment door, trying to forcibly push it open. the door's lock has been jammed for at least a couple of months. telling your landlord would do absolutely nothing and a strong budge is good enough to get it open. so you're in front of your apartment door, putting your all into getting this damn thing to move, and it does after a few attempts.

you drag yourself inside, and once again, having to put your weight into making sure the front door is locked. in all honesty, you would up and leave here any second if you could, but you're barely making the rent on time here, so forget any wishful thinking of finding another place to stay here in the city.

plopping down on your slightly decrepit beanbag, your mind starts jumping back to the closing race. the last race of the year, where the prize is always the most considerable. this year, there's a hundred grand on the line.

maybe, wishful thinking isn't so bad, after all.

you push harder and harder onto the pedal until your toes curl. in your sight, there is nothing but the finish line. in this instance, the finish line being where haechan stood with a stopwatch in his hand. your back tyres leave skid mark after skid mark on the concrete of the desolate parking lot. you speed past where haechan stood, so fast to the point where he didn't even register in your peripheral. and you come to a stop, turning so that your vehicle is now horizontal in relation to the track. kicking open the driver's door, you step out, almost with a kick in your step. there's certainty in your head that this had to be your best time.

"how was that?" you shouted over to haechan, who was now stalking over to where you had stopped.

he waited until he had reached within an arm's distance from you to speak, "not bad—1:27.03"

you exhale a deep breath, puffing out your cheeks. "1:27's better than 1:29," you had bested your own personal record. haechan holds his hand up and you meet his gesture with your own. he gives your hand a firm shake up in the air, "good job," a slight, but sincere smile appearing on his lips.

a sudden vroom catches both of your attentions from a distance. you turn your head to the entrance of the parking lot. a black blob, somewhat resembling the shape of a motorcycle, swiftly darts from one side of your vision to the other from behind the wire fence that surrounds the lot. "who's that?" you mutter.

you've never seen anyone here before. you thought that this lot was just a deserted junkyard that happened to be of good use to you, and no other racer bothered to drive out here, and to what? to practice? they simply roamed and tyrannised the streets for that.

then again, the same shadowy figure blitz past the entrance gate, but this time in the opposite direction. "they're leaving?" haechan voices, watching the figure as attentively as you.

that's weird, you thought, who just drives into a dead end and then turns around to leave immediately?

"huh," haechan pokes his tongue into his cheek.

as if you've been reminded of something, you hastily drag your phone out of your back pocket to check the time. "shit," you mutter under your breath, "i need to get to my shift." you turn on your heels, taking strides toward your car. leaning over the driver's seat, you dig around in the bag sat in the passenger for your keys. your fingertips quickly rifle through your belongings until you feel something cold and metal. swinging your keys into the palm of your hands, you walk back over to haechan. "she's yours," the pitch of your voice going up near the end of your statement, making it sound more like a question.

"i won't hurt your baby, don't worry," haechan responds to the clear concern in your voice with a teasing smile in his eyes.

you take purposeful steps toward the entrance of the parking lot, your bike parked right next to it. sliding your helmet off of the handle, you flip it over atop your head, each action carried out with an awareness of time. without hesitation, you secure on your helmet, swing one leg over your bike, and switch on your engine. a blare erupts from behind you—haechan is already lined up for the entrance with you being his only obstacle. fighting back the urge to flash up a gesture at him, you reluctantly begin to drive off to your shift.

...

"hey," you greet your coworker, almost out of breath, as you stagger into the convenience store right on time for your shift.

"i thought you weren't gonna show up, again," she comments, clearly impatient. eagerly, she makes her way out in front of the cashier counter.

you mumble a quick apology, and she doesn't respond further. she goes into the employees' lounge to collect her stuff; two minutes later, she's back and she's clocking out without a word.

seeing as there's no one in the store right now, you enter your pin to the employees' only room. there's a small circular desk in the middle of the cramped room with two teal sofa chairs next to it. you set down your bag, your jacket, and your helmet before getting out again.

as you straighten your shirt, you start thinking about the next several boring hours you're obligated to spend in this stuffy shop as you make your way behind the counter. immediately, as if it's muscle memory, your head tilts upwards to the right side of the store where the tv is positioned. on screen, they seem to be showing some celebrity reality show that you've seen once or twice but haven't kept up with. you watch absentmindedly, counting down the hours you have left before you can go home. 8 hours. 8 hours until it's 11pm. 8 hours until closing. whatever made you pick the evening shift over the morning shift, anyway? now that you think about it, 7-3 seems a lot more desirable than 3-11.

as you're lost in your regretting your work decisions, the door bell chimes, snapping you back into consciousness.

a manly figure steps through, dressed in ash grey jeans paired with a brown leather jacket, visibly worn. the figure's face is covered by a jet black helmet, one similar to yours. the figure stops in front of the glass doors, gloved hands reaching up to cast off the helmet. once it's off, the man tucks his helmet into the crook of his left elbow and attempts to adjust his hair in a rather shaggy manner with his other hand.

your eyes dart outside through the glass panes; a black motorcycle.

as the man browses through the aisles lackadaisically, you try to pay him no mind, returning your gaze back to the mediocre reality tv.

he takes several minutes, walking up and down, then down and up again through the display racks, only picking something up once. then, he approaches the counter, helmet still in his arms. he sets down a bottle of water in front of you, "can i have a pack of those?" he gestures behind you, pointing to the cigarette stand. you pick out the brand he's pointing at and scan it through on the register, then repeating the same with his bottle of water.

"that'll be 8.99."

the man sets his helmet down on the edge of the counter, careful not to knock any of the gum packets on display off. his arm reaches behind him and pulls out a worn leather wallet. as he's digging through to find his card, or cash, you don't know for sure, your eyes dart back outside. "that your bike outside?"

he seems to be caught off-guard by your small talk. the man's head snaps to look at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and his lips slightly ajar. "uh- yeah," he returns his attention onto his wallet. now, his fingers look to be struggling to pull a card out.

you nod your head, almost like in approval. "what model is it?" truth be told, you knew what model it was, you even knew the make. but something about the man standing before you made you want to keep talking to him, regardless of if it was small talk.

"tuono 660," basically confirming what you thought you knew, "aprilia."

he hands you his card and you take it in your hands, m. lee embossed along the bottom. you hover over the card reader until a beep sounds out. you return his card wearing a small smile on your expression, "would you like your receipt?" instinctually returning to your customer service tone.

"no... thanks," he replies, followed by a tight-lipped smile. he shoves his wallet back inside his pocket and grabs ahold of both his water and cigarettes in one hand.

"thank you," your much practiced tone and expression still dripping on each word.

the man catches your eyes for a split second, before he turns his head, then his whole body to exit the store.

a sudden eruption of laughter comes from the tv but it fades into the background of your mind. the man is now outside on the curb, pocketing his pack of cigs into his jeans before climbing onto his bike.

"haechan!" you exclaim as you push the door closed behind you. it's surprise visits like this that makes haechan sometimes regret giving you a key to his apartment. "helloo?" you call out again.

you make your way over to the kitchen island when you hear a door click. footsteps begin to shuffle on the wooden floorboards.

"yn," a curt voice speaks out.

the voice sends a sudden jolt through your body. you lift your head to see a pair of brown eyes fixated on you. "renjun," you greet him but the enthusiasm you had a second ago is now nowhere to be heard.

in your head, you debate whether you should ask how he's doing, you know, normal friendly stuff people do. would it be weird? surely not. but before you can reach a consensus in your mind, renjun cuts your thoughts off.

"haechan's in the bathroom."

your lips mimic an 'oh.' perhaps this is the one time that you regret haechan giving you his key. you purse your lips together, an "um," tumbling out of you. and now you're back to debating whether or not you should ask him about his day. seconds tick by, made evident by the clock hung up in the centre of their living room. seconds that feels like hours.

haechan bursts out from the bathroom, curses slipping past his lips. thank god, was the only thought you can form. you don't know how much more of the awkward silence you can take from renjun.

"yn! oh my god," haechan demands your attention from the other man standing right across from the pair of you.

"what?" you blurt out, unsure whether haechan's franticness is genuine, or if he heard the scene that went down before and decided to be a saving grace.

"listen!" his thumbs scroll on his phone at a rate that you're sure he can't be comprehending anything.

after waiting a few seconds for him to follow up on his eagerness and having been met with nothing, you prod a bit, "go on, then. i'm listening."

his thumbs suddenly stop, eyes scanning the lines of text rapidly on his screen. "they're saying some new kid won the league race last night." his words almost slur into one another at the pace which he is speaking with.

"...so?"

haechan must've seen the genuine confusion that's struck your face; he seems stuck in a trance-like state for a moment as he tries to register your hint of nonchalance.

"you don't get it!" he clicks his tongue and his eyes go back to his phone. "he won, by like- a lot. his time was only 3 seconds away from yours."

and that's when you begin to understand the sort of panic seeped into haechan's demeanor. in all honesty, he's acting more panicked than you are, or should be.

"what- who's telling you this?"

"people we know- it doesn't matter! what matters is they're saying he might beat you at closing this year."

you lean over to catch a glimpse of what haechan is intently looking at. your head turns to the back of you to the hallway leading to renjun's room, and he's not there anymore; his door shut as well. you would've said something about renjun to haechan but the both of you are rather preoccupied right now.

"there's no way," you whisper under your breath, more so to relieve your own disbelief than anything. "who is this guy?"

haechan scrolls up in the groupchat thread that he's in, until he lands on a picture sent by someone who you don't recognise. "i don't know," he clicks on the picture, zooming in. it obviously was taken with the subject being unaware of it. "they're saying his name- well, at least his racing name, is drift."

"a little on the nose, don't you think?" you mutter as your eyes study the picture haechan is showing you. the man pictured is in the distance, in the middle of taking his helmet off. dressed in an outfit you've seen before. that same brown leather jacket and the grey jeans that looks black due to the poor resolution. "i've seen him before," you admit to haechan.

his head turns to you as fast as humanly possible, "you have?"

you give him a nonchalant nod of the head, the corners of your mouth dropping down like in understanding.

"why do you not seem even a bit concerned?" haechan questions.

"should i be?" you distance yourself from haechan as you approach their fridge. maybe you should be, but humility has never been a strong virtue of yours.

haechan watches your every action carefully, even as you reach inside of his fridge to grab a cold soda into your hands. "i'm telling you, yn, this guy is good."

the league races sound exactly like the opposite of what they are. they're the smaller street races that take place right before the closing race for people to blow some steam off; kind of... take the pressure off the closing for some. point is, they're unimportant. to you, at least. which is why for as long as you've been racing, you've never attended one, to save some gas for the closing, that's what you've convinced yourself.

your fingernails dig below the tab of the can and a release pops. 'i guess i'll have to see for myself," you swig back a mouthful of sweet, bubbly soda. "when's the next league race?"

boring, boring, boring.

that's how every one of your shifts go. but you don't have a choice. well, you do. either you work, or get evicted, and it's pretty clear to you which one you prefer. the only strand of motivation you're holding onto at this point, is the fact that after you win closing, you can maybe start looking for a better job somewhere else. maybe even move out of that shitty apartment. but that's after the closing, and haechan would like to remind you that that's even if you win.

and as if scripted, the topic of debate between you and your best friend for the past few days steps through the glass doors to the convenience store. you don't know how you recognised him that quickly, you don't know why you recognised him, but you know it's him. once again. m. lee, huh. drift. you still haven't grown fond of his stage name.

today, he's wearing grey, baggy sweatpants, with the same leather jacket you've seen him in on all occasions you've seen him. he's browsing through the aisles again, with a cap obstructing your view of his face. you watch him more carefully this time than before. looking outside, no bike this time.

he walks over to the row of refrigerators situated on the left side of the store and pulls out a can of beer. his actions seemed to be performed with a certain kind of preciseness, meticulousness.

he saunters over to you, stood behind your counter.

you watch as he places the can in front of you, head down, once again, looking for his wallet. it's like you have deja vu. instead of scanning the can through, your fixation on watching his every action overrides your muscle memory.

"so, are you new 'round here?"

he looks at you through his brows, the same deer in headlights expression he wore the first time you've seen him. however, his lips quickly break into a small curve. "you're really fond of small talk, aren't you?"

you don't know what to make of his tone—half teasing, half amused, but his gaze is cold and hard, despite the smile lifting on the corners of his mouth.

"just being friendly," you break eye contact with him, a slight gratefulness twinges within you for your duties as a cashier as you go to scan his can of beer through to the system.

"well, in that case, yes. i am new around here."

you go to meet his gaze again, now with a small, satisfied grin on your own face. as subtle as you can, you scan his outfit, or what you can see of it with the counter in the way. the hems of his leather jacket washed out in colour; a lighter brown as compared to the darker shade on the sleeves. a light discolouration throughout that you can't deem whether as intentional or not. a sudden urge overtakes you.

"do you race?"

his off-guard expression is now back again, "sorry?"

"i saw your bike last time," you try to say casually, "it's modified, isn't it?"

he purses his lips tightly together, eyebrows lifted as if you caught him in a lie. then, his expression softens. "yeah, it is. you know quite a bit about bikes, i assume?"

"just a bit."

a smirk now dragging on his lips, "i'm delighted that you think i'm good enough to race." something about the way he enunciated his sentence made you pause for a split second. "so, how much?" his finger gestures toward the beer on the counter, drops of condensation beginning to pool at the base of it.

it should be here, you think to yourself as you begin to approach a rather quiet part of the city. haechan said it was going to be here. he would've went with you, like he'd said, if renjun—his roommate—wasn't conveniently out of town tonight.

you take a turn onto the main road, and sure enough, there's a crowd of people standing on the pavements on all sides of the intersection a little bit further down. indistinct murmuring begins to fill your ears. the sound of bottles hitting the concrete ground, laughter, music, all of it. as you get closer and closer, a heavy smell of smoke also enters your airways.

you approach the crowd a bit more, but keep your distance—about 6 feet away from the perimeter of the group of people. suddenly, several heads turn in your direction. the scene is unsettling, you've never seen it from this perspective. it's as if they're all being remotely controlled as more and more heads turn. they're not looking at you though but—

without warning, a car speeds past you.

speed is an understatement; it was in your peripheral vision for less than a second before it zooms off down the rest of the main street. right as the car passes you, cheers erupt from the conglomerate of people, all of them following the car's trajectory. a loud voice booms, seemingly out of nowhere.

"and there we have it! newcomer drift takes another one!"

there's a moment of stillness before another car zooms by, one that you recognise. the voice continues without missing a beat, "and revy comes in at second!"

the crowd of people all start to move up the street towards the two cars that have now slowly come to a halt up at the next intersection, their movements reminiscent of a stampede of sorts. giving into curiosity, you follow the crowd but with the same distance you kept as before.

cheer and fanfare can probably be heard from several blocks away. excited screaming strikes your eardrums, and before you can even hope that it quiets down at least a little bit, even more screaming fills the atmosphere. you tilt your head to get a better view at what everyone is cheering at. and sure enough, a familiar silhouette steps out. the man raises a palm as if to wave at the crowd of people who all cheered instantaneously louder for him the second he did so. he walks toward the crowd, and the voice booms once again all over this part of the street. you see a boy, presumably a teenager, approach the man with a mic in one hand and a speaker in the other. the boy drops his microphone as he goes to whisper something in the man's ear. of course, you can't hear anything, but you're also a bit too far to even attempt to read his lips. it's hard to say you're not intrigued by all this commotion. and for what? for the man who you've now decided frequents the convenience store you work at? you need to find out more, we'll call it researching your competition.

you cut your way through the crowd. cars are still zooming past that first intersection, which is now behind you, but no one seems to pay them any mind.

you're behind the first row of people within the crowd and you're just about to come out on the other side when a familiar face peers out from the side, startling you just a tiny bit.

"surprised you turned up," her voice is silky smooth. a too perfect beam tugging on her lips.

"minjeong," you try your best to mirror her smile right back at her. you have no energy for trivial smack talk tonight.

"i always thought you were too good for the leagues... what changed?" her charm is undeniable. the expression on her face still as polite as ever, but you know better than to assume what you can see.

"nothing, just wanted a change of scenery."

before minjeong replies, someone else steps in to join your conversation. "come on, we have to go," they don't seem to be addressing you. you do them the favour of letting yourself fade into the background as your eyes search again for man you've been focused on prior. at that second, the two of you stare directly at each other. you force yourself to look away but you can't, it's like there's a magnetic field surrounding just the two of you. he turns his head away first, refocusing his attention to the teenage boy who is still stood next to him.

"we'll see you around, yn," minjeong waves goodbye to you but instead of rotating her wrist, she flutters her fingers lightly. her words spoke with such careful calculation, and yet her voice as sweet as honey. you eke out a small, courteous smile; no point in calling her out on her bullshit tonight.

as you're watching minjeong and her friend walk off into an alley, someone else is headed towards you. you don't notice until you turn your head and-

"so, we're stalking now?" he stands a little bit taller than you, a glimmer in his eyes as he's staring down at you. this man is an enigma. how could he come off as shy one second back at your work, and here, he's completely charismatic. must be in his element.

the people around you seems to take notice of the pair of you, or maybe just him, but you've grown used to scenes like this; it's not like you've never been to a race before where there's an attractive racer that everyone seems to go weak in the knees for.

"you flatter yourself," you can't hold back the urge to bat your lashes—just once—at him.

"if i didn't know better, i would think so," he drags his words out one by one. his response causes you to wrinkle your brows, not sure what to say to that, which earned a light chuckle out of him. "you think i don't know who you are?" a playfulness ringing in his tone. is he teasing you right now? had he known this whole time?

"how did you-?"

a chorus of voices flare up in the middle of the crowd. you turn on your heels to see people running off in every direction. suddenly, the same teenage boy from before is propped up on others, shouting out, "someone called the cops!"

immediately, you turn back around. you can feel a firm grasp on your wrist pulling you in the direction of the alley that minjeong and her friend walked into earlier. for a second, you're stood still where you are, the panic of everyone else around you freezes you to the spot. then, you hear a "come on!" from the man holding your wrist, and before you know it, you let yourself get hauled away in midst of the chaos into leather jacket man's car.

wordlessly, he starts his engine and speeds off into... you don't know where, yet, but far enough away from where the gathering was. once the two of you are at enough distance away from the race, he starts decelerating, but shows no indication that you will be stopping any time soon. you look over to the driver's seat, his gaze is fixated on the road ahead and you're not sure whether you should make conversation.

you sit in silence for about 5 minutes as you watch out of the window. you can tell that you're getting further and further away from the centre of the city, and in fact, you're nearing the beach that runs along the coast.

it wasn't long until you turn into the parking lot, and finally, come to a stop. he unclicks his seatbelt, provoking you to do the same. he flips the handle on his door and gets out, still without a word. you watch as he zips up his jacket, stuffs his hands into his pockets, and crouch slightly to look at you through his windows. he tilts his head in the direction of the beach which you took as a signal to get out of the car as well.

as soon as you step out onto the tarmac parking lot, a cool evening breeze sweeps right past you. with the wind caught up in your hair, you clasp your hands together to gain some warmth. leather jacket man is already headed for the shoreline, a lax pattern in his steps, making it easy for you to catch up to him.

"congratulations," you break the silence once you're at the side of him. he looks at you, and you continue walking down the beach. "for winning leagues tonight," you follow up.

he stops walking. when you peer back at him, you're met with the same playful expression that was on his face back at the race. "thanks," a glint reflected in his teeth. "sorry about... dragging you back there," he bends at his waist, and then sits down on the soft sand shimmering under the moonlight.

you take a step towards him, and then decide to join him on the ground. your fingers sink into the sand as you're setting yourself down. waves lap over and over at the shoreline, the body of the ocean twinkling under the void of stars up above.

"so you knew, huh?" you grab a handful of sand and delicately let it fall off your fingers.

he extends his legs and leans back on his hands that rested behind his torso. "how could i have not?" an air of confidence interweaved within his voice. you turn your head towards him, and he looks to be biting back a cocky smirk, "gotta know your enemies, right?"

you're not sure which part of his sentence you should address. "know?" what does he know about you? and it didn't register within you that he saw you as an enemy, as a threat before.

"alright, then, since you know so much about me, it's my turn to ask you something." you dust off the sand on your hands and reposition yourself so that your body faces him—your legs criss-crossed with each other.

"shoot."

"what's your name?"

he gives you a suspicious look; a slight tug at his lips and furrowed brows. he pushes himself off one hand to lean in closer towards you, "well, did you not hear the announcer? i think he said my name pretty loud and clear when i passed that finish line."

you roll your eyes, seriously considering the idea of shoving sand down his throat so he could stop with his mockery. "do you know mine?"

without missing a beat, he replies, "yn."

"so what's yours?"

he looks straight at you, a face full of careful consideration, before he gives in. "mark," a smile plastered on his face that you can't describe as other than 'dorky.'

you repeat his name under your breath, attention now back to the sand between the two of you.

a brief minute passes by as you two listen to the ocean's waves rippling quietly.

"i'm guessing it was you that day at the junkyard?" mark asks.

and so the puzzle completes itself in your mind, "you say that like i'm invading in on your space." a sudden gust of wind blows past you, sending a chill down your spine.

"it was my uncle's," mark hangs his head back, directing his gaze at the stars. "i'd recently just moved back so i didn't know it'd be empty. or that you'd be there." you watch mark watch the stars.

"what happened to it being your uncle's?"

mark's adam's apple dips as he gulps down a swallow. "he'd passed, not too long ago."

"oh..." you return to fidgeting with the sand under your fingertips, "i'm sorry for your loss."

"it happens," mark exhales a deep breath. you feel there's a change in conversation coming with the way he's readjusting his shirt, pulling down on its hem poking out from underneath his jacket. "anyway. you down to help me practice tomorrow?"

your eyebrows shoot up, not just at the sudden change in topic, but at his request, "help? you practice?" it's almost laughable.

"i mean, yeah," he shrugs, "the enemy of your enemy is a friend, right? we have plenty of shared enemies."

as promised, you show up the next day up at the parking lot that you're pretty sure you would've went to anyway regardless of if mark asked you to or not. after all, closing's in a week and you need to get whatever amount of practice in that you can.

sure enough, mark is already there. you park your car right at the entrance gate and you step out to see him controlling his vehicle expertly. at every turn, he steers sideways with a precision that's unrivalled to anything you've ever seen in person. his front wheels pointed in the opposite direction of his turn as the back tyres glide on the cement as if it was ice—a screech can heard as a result.

he begins to pick up his pace again and drive in your direction, his focus seemingly entirely on the front of your car. he wouldn't. it's not that you trust him, but he wouldn't put himself in a danger like that, would he?

and before he reaches the point where it'd be too late for him to swerve, he carries out another one of his perfectly controlled, drifted turns, stopping with his driver's side window facing right at you. you stand unflinching and notice that his window is rolled all the way down.

"flashy," you voice, "going for style points, are we?"

he juts his head out of his window. cheekily, he suggests, "you down for a race?"

not being one to back down, you agree. mark points to a spot in the middle of the parking lot and you get back into your car to follow him. you pull up right next to where mark is, rolling down your passenger's window so you can communicate with him. "how does a lap sound?"

"sounds good to me," mark smirks back at you.

you turn your head to face the vastness of the empty lot in front of you. mark counts down out loud from 3. you press down on the gas pedal, revving your engine. 2. your hand reaches for the gear stick. and 1. both of you shoot off into the distance, and unexpectedly, you're neck in neck with him. you push on harder on the pedal, gaining you a little bit of ground, which mark makes up for without hesitation.

the remainder of this little mock race carries on like this. you earn the lead for 2 seconds, then mark takes it back. then you're in the lead again, and... not anymore. as you're close to finishing your lap, you can tell you're just the tiniest bit behind mark. so, in a last ditch effort, you step on your pedal to the fullest, as hard as you can, allowing you to surpass him the most you have so far, and just as you're about to pass the finishing point again, you can see mark catching up to you. and like that, both of you have crossed into the second lap. it's impossible to tell which one of you took the lead at the end with just the naked eye.

mark's car comes to a slow.

you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't even the slightest hint of frustration within you. no one has ever been that close to you before. sure, when you were just starting out. but not now. not when you've earned yourself the title of being known as the best in this city. needless to say, you're pissed. but not at mark.

you throw your head back onto the headrest, sighing a deep sigh.

mark makes his way around to your side of the vehicle. he rests one hand on the roof of your car and the other on his hip. "was that a just practice for you, or...?" a light pant in his voice.

"don't get cocky now." you gesture for him to back up. flinging open your door, you step out, pulling on the muscles of your traps as you stretch your neck.

he takes a single step closer to you. now he's standing a little too close for comfort, close enough that you can smell the woody notes of his cologne. "that take a lot out of you?"

"you got lucky, that's all." his gaze on you is unwavering, only moving away from your eyes to study the other parts of your face.

"i did, didn't i?" you catch his eyes flicker between yours and your lips.

an unsettling feeling sparks in the pit of your stomach. slowly, mark brings his hand up to your face. with his index finger, he traces from the back of your jawline to your chin. at the slight of his touch, you can feel a shiver running down you.

you can feel his warmth emanating off of him. bit by bit, he closes the gaping distance between the two of you. mark places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, gently guiding your face towards his.

but, something in you tells you to stop. stop whatever he's doing, stop yourself from giving into whatever he's doing.

you place a hand on his chest, met with the cold, harsh leather of his jacket. you drop your head, so that you're not facing him directly.

"i think..." at your words, mark releases the gentle hold he had on you and shuffles a step or two away from you. he clears his throat.

"i'm..." mark shuts his eyelids for a moment, "i'm sorry," his hands seem to begin to gesture something before he puts them in his pockets.

"no, no," you feel a slight shake of your head. a sudden train of thoughts rush through your mind. "i think i should go."

mark seems to mutter a small "yeah," as he backs away from your car.

...

"haechan, open your damn door right now," you call out as you're knocking so hard on haechan's bedroom door that it's sure to give out after another minute.

"i'm coming! i'm coming," you hear his voice from the other side. "god, you don't have to come breaking down my apartment every time; phones exist for a reason, y'know?" the handle twists and his door swings open.

your heart is practically pounding out of your chest. you had so much to tell him that you don't even know where to start. haechan stare at you blankly, "so, speak."

"mark! mark fucking lee-"

"sorry- is this someone that i'm supposed to know?"

you're pacing up and down the hallway of haechan's apartment, "yes! you do know him, it's that guy! that drift guy from the leagues."

"you're on first name basis with him?" he questions with a grin on his face that you know too well.

"it's not like that!" you take a pause in pacing, "i don't know, maybe it's like that- i just- ugh!"

haechan exhales and steps out of his doorway. he closes his door behind him, and begins to shuffle you towards the kitchen. "slow down, take a seat," he points at the kitchen stool, "you want a drink?"

"what- no, just listen!"

"i am, i am," haechan proclaims as he goes to grab a glass bottle of beer in the middle of the island as he sits on the stool facing you. "go on, then."

you tell him that you met mark—drift—back at the league race that he was supposed to go to with you the other night. then, about how mark took to you the beachside for whatever reason afterwards. then, today, you were racing him and he was about to kiss you? now that you're regurgitating all this information, you couldn't even wrap your head around it.

"but he was good, haechan, you were right."

"you should say that more often," haechan takes a sip of his beer.

"bro, if he beats me at closing..." your shoulders deflate at the thought. you hadn't even considered this possibility of losing until mark showed up out of nowhere.

haechan forcefully sets his bottle down on the hard counter. "you're tweaking. like, actually," a chuckle comes out with his words. what he's saying doesn't seem to be resonating with you, so he tries to go another approach, "look, listen, i know i was worried before but, i know your skillset, yn. there's no way some guy can just come in and beat you."

you try to convince yourself into believing what haechan is telling you, but rationally, you know that today's race proved to be way too close. "no, but, that kiss as well- that almost kiss. what am i supposed to make of that?"

haechan leans his elbows onto his knees. "isn't it obvious? he's distracting his competition," he goes to wrap his fingers around the base of the bottle, "and look at you; it's working, isn't it?"

you sigh. you hated how logical haechan's reasoning for it was. surely, that was it, it's stupid to think it was anything more, right?

"so, what do i do?"

haechan takes you in for a second. a devious smirk begins to appear on his face. you know that whatever he's about to say, you won't like it.

"you show him..." he points the neck of the beer bottle at you, "...that two can play that game."

you sit in silence staring at haechan for a moment—he looks like he expected to be applauded for such a genius idea. "okay... and how the hell do i do that?"

"revy's party, tomorrow night. we're going."

you step through into a dimly lit kitchen, it's floor sticky with who knows what. it's been less than 24 hours since haechan suggested the two of you attend a party thrown by another one of your racing rivals. less than 24 hours since you've gone back on your word, claiming to yourself that you will never attend a party like this. and the reasoning is right in front of your eyes: a cramped room filled with people you don't know, music so loud that it penetrates inside of your skull making your brain physically vibrate, and not to mention the lack of actual food? there's no way you can survive on cheap liquor and cheese puffs all night. and thinking about tomorrow makes it all the worse.

and that's why when haechan first proposed this idea to you, you were dead set on denying it. "no," you'd said, "absolutely not." his genius idea turned out to be voluntarily putting yourself in uncomfortable social situations? added with the fact that it's the night before closing?

"what other option do you have?" haechan had asked.

and you supposed he was right. you had no other choice. you had tonight, and only tonight, to really play your cards right.

so, that's why you're here, in the kitchen of someone's house—whose, you didn't know. haechan steps through with you right at your side. you're scanning through the heaps of people, some drinking, some making out, some straight up dry humping on each other. truly a stereotypical scene that looks as though it came straight out of a coming of age movie.

and you spot him. just like haechan had said, he's here.

mark stands all the way across the kitchen, preoccupied talking to a girl. you haven't seen her before, and you certainly haven't seen the pair of them together before. cups in both of their hands, they seem to be chatting, enjoying each other's company, and you turn the plan you had come up with together with haechan over in your head.

finding yourself stuck in a rut—luckily one that's shallow enough—you tap haechan on his arm, then gesture toward the beverage table. the both of you approach it but neither giving in to the giant bowl of red punch in the centre of it. the kitchen floor was sticky, the air is sticky, you don't want to think about the implications of what could be in this bowl. you reach out to grab a can of beer, and haechan follows. "i spotted him," you tell haechan, not necessarily speaking carefully because if you did, he wouldn't hear you over the booming of the house music that's being played.

"yeah?" he takes a swig of his room-temperature beer. "you know what to do then?" he lifts a brow at you, and when you respond with an expression that told him 'yes' no matter how hesitantly, he snapped you a quick wink, and did a 180 heading for another cramped room in the house.

for the next several minutes, you're stood by the bar, back facing the rest of the party downing gulps after gulps of canned beer. you don't feel it doing much aside from warming you up a little bit. you're about to reach for a second one, when a figure steps into your peripheral.

you try to discreetly figure out who the person is standing next to you, but the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you knew.

mark wanted to break the ice by saying something witty, but... was that appropriate after your last encounter?

"you're a... big fan of the beer, i'm guessing?" he remarks as he's observing your hands; one holding an empty can, and the other reaching out for a new can.

"it's not as bad as i thought," you respond curtly.

as you're pulling back the tab on the new can, you think to yourself. if you want to make this plan work, you've got to kill the awkward tension. and so, your mind jumps to the only topic you can think of.

"who's that girl you were talking to?"

mark seems to be surprised; were you asking him? after a brief moment of silence, a recognition slips out of him, "oh," he shrugs, "she was just saying how she always wanted to race and, stuff like that." he seemed to have caught himself rambling, and stopped before he went on any further.

"sounds like she was hitting on you," you shoot a quick look in his direction as you take a small chug from your can.

he gently shakes his head, eyes fixed on the bottle clasped between his hands, "no, she was just being friendly."

"mh," you're watching mark now. "so, not another one of your conquests?"

mark truly looks puzzled, if he's not, then he's doing great acting like he is with that expression on his face. you can practically read his internal monologue at this very second: what are you talking about?

"i'm not... picking up on what you're saying, exactly."

you have to turn this around somehow. but how? in your mind, this is already botched. go home, you ruined it.

"i just..." you set down your can on the table in front of you. one thing that obnoxiously loud house music is good for is filling in the spaces of silence as you think about what to say next to him. "i guess, i'm just thinking about the other day."

at this moment, you piqued mark's interest. he looks at you with a glint in his eyes. "about that," he turns his body to face you, "look, i'm so sorry- i didn't mean to misread the situation and-"

"you didn't."

mark's lips are still left slightly parted, frozen from his last words. confusion strikes him again.

"i'm sorry- you didn't," for whatever reason, you can't look into his eyes, but you continue anyway, "just in that moment, it was so..."

the bass had been booming since the moment you stepped foot into this house but right at that second, it blared even louder—you didn't even know that that was possible. you can physically feel your heart in your chest jumping each time it thundered.

mark wears an agitated expression from this sudden change in atmosphere, and now, you practically had to yell out to even hear another person standing a foot away from you.

he gestured toward the window outside, mouthed something along the lines of, "wanna head out?" and you followed. mark grabs ahold of your hand, leading you through the horde of sweaty, sticky people until he finally pulls you outside. though, you're not completely free from the roaring bass, you can at least rest your ear drums for a bit.

mark exhales, air puffing up his cheeks. "you were saying?" he turns his gaze towards you, and it strikes you as the perfect time now.

your features twist in a manner of disarray—"i think i have a headache from that whole... situation." you press the inner wrist of your right hand up against your temple.

mark takes one step closer towards you, "are you alright?" he tilts his head to get a better look of your expression.

"yeah, i think i just need to get somewhere quiet," you wave the concern in his voice away.

"do you want me to take you home?"

for a second, you would've agreed, but then you thought back, and you don't think your apartment's in any state to be seen right now.

you give a brief shake of your head, wrist still pinned to your temple. "no, not right now," you say, hoping that he wouldn't ask for an elaboration.

"um, i can take you to my place if you don't mind?"

not wanting to give away too much of your act, you agree hesitantly. "is that alright with you?"

"yeah, of course," and he leads you to his car.

he'd insisted on you waiting out where you were so that you didn't have to walk all the way to his car, but he also didn't feel right about making you wait on your own, so he guided you to where he'd parked, each of his steps designed to match your pace.

...

the ride to his place was quiet, but not uncomfortable. it was a quick drive, but even so every now and then he would look over to make sure you're not too out of it.

he unlocked the door to his apartment, and it was beautiful to say the least; much more kempt than yours. it was mainly one big room with the bathroom tucked away somewhere in the corner. floor to ceiling windows lined the walls facing the entrance door and his bed laid in the centre of the room, facing the windows with a view of the cityscape.

you drag your feet inside, trying to hide at least some bit of your awe.

mark's voice snaps you out of it a little, "do you want some water? anything?"

"i don't mean to have you take care of me," you look back at mark, a tiny spark of guilt igniting within you.

"it's just water, yn," he chuckles as he goes to grab a glass off of his drying rack and pours you some water. "if you want you can rest a bit in my bed."

you're not sure what it is, but it's like you're seeing another version of mark; another side to him. his generosity takes you by surprise and as you take the glass from his hands, wanting to extinguish that guilt, drinking from it only makes the flame grow stronger.

you're stood by the counter, him being only a few steps away from you. the kitchen lights are off, the entirely of his apartment dimly lit with ambience lighting being the only sources of light.

you watch mark's face. the parts of it that are in light, and the other parts that are in shadow. his lips are illuminated by the light along with the right side of his face. maybe the alcohol has gotten to you, or maybe it's your raw, unfiltered desire, but you reach out with the back of your fingers and gently caress the sunken plane under his cheekbone. he seems to melt at even a trace of your touch. he takes ahold of your hand with his, and brings it down.

you take half a step closer towards him, eyes lingering on his.

"what are you doing?" he whispers breathily, eyelids fluttering.

you lean in the slightest bit closer, eyes focused on mark's lips and that was all the invitation mark needed to press his lips onto yours.

he's slow, and gentle. he takes your lips into his with a softness you hadn't expected. one hand goes to cup your face and the other wraps around your waist, pulling you closer into him. he savours every second that your lips are on his, and every time they part, he would go in deeper so as to not forget the taste of your lips on his tongue.

he kisses you with a deep, deep hunger. his hands, too. they roam every inch of your back, pulling you into him as close as you possibly can be until your chests are pressed against each other. you go to wrap your arms tightly around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and it's still not enough. you need to breathe him in as if he is the very oxygen that your life depended on.

he pulls away with a smack from your lips. panting heavily, he begins to breathe out, "do you-?"

"yes." whatever he would've said, you knew you wouldn't have denied him.

"are you sure you want this?" he asks again, still breathing heavily with his chest rising and falling against yours.

you give a quick nod of your head, "just kiss me again."

and so he does. mark devours your lips with a newfound lustfulness; pressing onto your lips a little bit harder than before, even biting down on your bottom lip, eliciting a curse out of you.

his hands slide all the way down to your thighs, and he grips tightly onto them as he lifts you up to around his hips. you wrap your legs around him, without breaking away from your kiss. you can feel the two of you moving, but your eyes remain shut.

mark once again pulls back from you, eyes looking right through you with a need to devour. he drops you onto his bed but his hands stays on you. one of them runs up... and then down the underside of your thigh. you're leering at him, desperate for him to touch you more, explore you more, and he can tell.

he kneels down, hands still gripping onto your thighs, and he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. he pushes your legs open, making space for himself in between your thighs. "take this off for me, baby," he utters quickly, impatiently, as he taps on your upper thigh, veiled by the thin fabric of your skirt.

you respond not with words, but with the speed of which the skirt is stripped off of you—eager to please, eager to be pleased.

his fingertips settle into a crook on either sides of your upper thigh as he's pulling you closer to him. you can feel his breath sticking to your skin. every second that he's not touching you, you're aching. the tip of his tongue glides over your panties and you shudder at his movements. you're growing more and more impatient with his obvious teasing as the desire within you becomes harder and harder to fulfil. "fuck, mark," you curse him for purposefully not removing the barrier standing in between you and pleasure. you hear him chuckle, and a word from you is enough to get him to oblige, for now. he pushes the fabric of your panties to the side, baring your slit on full display for him.

"god," he breathes out, and you can feel his breath fan out on your pussy. and in a second, his tongue is licking circle after circle over your clit, exploring between your every fold. he's losing himself in eating you out. he can't help but groan against every buck of your hip, and every time, it sends vibrations that seep into your skin. "you taste so fucking good," he mumbles out. in between the insatiable movements of his tongue against your cunt, he would plant soft kisses onto your folds—the contrast of it all driving you absolutely crazy.

a mixture of his drool and you is running down his chin, but that's nowhere near enough to stop him. the thought of having you dripping down him turns him on even more. your hands are grabbing at fistfuls of mark's hair. with a single swirl of his tongue, you suddenly jerk too hard and he moans against the fiery sensation pulling on his scalp. you try to fight against the urge to push him deeper into you, both of your arms and legs shaking at this point.

as you begin to feel a clench in your stomach, mark uses his hand to separate your legs that are threatening to close together, "keep your legs open for me, baby." you try and try, but you can't help the pressure that's building between your thighs. you bite down on your lip, trying not to let mark hear any of the embarrassing moans and cries you would want nothing but to let out. and just as you're so close to your orgasm, mark takes his tongue off of you.

he stands up again, using the back of his hand to wipe his chin.

"what the fuck-?" you bite out. a bit dazed, but you know enough that that wasn't the release you wanted.

mark coos at you with feigned sympathy, "aw, poor baby." he plants one palm onto the mattress as he leans in, hovering over you. "don't you want to taste yourself on my lips?"

you pull yourself out of your haze, latching your lips onto his. his thumb drags along your jawline. mark hums against your kiss, "you turn me on so goddamn much." he climbs over you, his entire body hovering over yours, and your hands grip at his waist before flipping him under you. he looks surprised, a delighted smirk drips on his mouth. "you had that in you the whole time?"

you reply brusquely, "lose the shirt already," not up for any more teasing tonight.

"bossy," he utters, but complies without hesitation.

you place your hands directly on top of the waistline of his jeans, positioning yourself so that you're sat directly on top of the bulge in his pants. a tiny moan escapes you. mark watches you with a satisfaction glistening in his eyes, "can you feel how hard i am for you?"

you would grind down on his bulge until you gave yourself the release that he owed you if it weren't for the roughness of his jeans. frustrated, you moved yourself further down his lap and impatiently worked the zipper on his pants, pulling them down until his hard cock sprung up hot and red. you ignore the watering in your mouth at the sight of his dick, too eager to feel it inside you.

you wrap your fingers around his cock along the base of it, giving it a tiny squeeze before you slide your hand up his shaft. mark watches with a furrow in his brow and grumblings stuck in his throat. he doesn't want to take his eyes off of you for even one second. you give his cock a few more strokes, so, so painfully slow, though. then, using just your middle and ring finger, you run it up on the side of his dick, reaching the tip, and you drag small little circles over on top of it—spreading his precum all over. mark breathes out a repeated string of curse words as you begin to apply more pressure to his head.

holding back a sly smirk, you take your hand away from mark. you get up on your knees, still straddling him, and you extend your hand out in front of mark's face. "spit on it."

he follows your words without even having the chance to think about challenging you. he is so, so eager to please you. you bring your hand with his spit up to your own chest and you do the same. you smear the two of you all over his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke now than before. his hands goes to grip tightly on your hips, fingertips already digging into your flesh.

you position yourself so that you're hovering directly over mark's big, hard cock, twitching under you. reaching under you, you can feel the tip of his erection resting against your cunt. you drag your hips in a back and forth motion, sliding his head up and down your slit. mark throws his head back, groaning and whining, "fuck, baby- please." you have to admit, the sight of him absolutely unravelling under you is the sexiest fucking thing you've ever seen. "please, please, please," he blurts out a few more pleads..

"what do you want me to do, huh?"

"please, just ride me," he mumbles, words just tumbling out of his mouth at this point. and who are you to deny such a polite request?

you sink down on mark's cock, with each inch you can feel your core beginning to shake. the two of you moaned and groaned with a shared pleasure. a gasp whacks itself out of you as you fully sit down on his cock, taking every inch of him.

mark bites down on his lip, pleasure overriding him, "look at that." he throws his head back, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, "you're taking all of me." his hand palming over your ass in a way that you can tell he wants to just pick you up and bounce you on his cock.

you start moving your hips gently, still letting yourself adjust to his size. with every whimper that you let out, mark goes absolutely crazy—he wanted to hear you, he wanted that so badly.

and deciding that he needed more, his hands goes to lift your hips up from him and he pins you back down underneath him. his erection now rested atop your thigh, dragging over your skin as he goes to whisper in your ear, "you tell me if it's too much, okay?" you nod, eyes lingering on each other.

he looks downwards, aligning himself with your entrance. he doesn't waste any more time and-

"fuck!"

you cry out, with the first thrust of his hips into you. mark stops and watches your expression for a second before he rams his hips into you again.

he picks up the pace, hips smacking into yours at a steady rhythm. the sloppiness of the two of you filled the room with the melodies of your moans.

"shit, baby," disjointed thoughts fell out of his mouth one after another, moans peppered throughout. as he thrusted himself in and out of you, all he could do was whisper next to your ear how good you felt.

as he kept on thrusting into you, it wasn't long before you can feel that pressure building up again. "fuck, i'm so close," you pant out breathily to mark.

"yeah?"

he pounds into you even harder and harder, making you want to scream out his name but you fight against it.

"don't hold back, baby," he grunted, "i want you to get fucking loud for me."

however embarrassing the noises you made were, you didn't care anymore. you just wanted to feel good with mark's cock dragging in and out of you and you wanted him to know how fucking good it felt. you moan out, alternating between 'fuck,' his name, and pure cries of ecstasy. you slither your hand down in between you two, rubbing violent circles on your clit just so you can reach that orgasm you so badly wanted faster.

you can feel your core tightening around mark. you try to tell him but your mind is gone, only leaving behind unintelligible moans.

"you gonna cum for me?" mark teased, his hips still ramming into you at the same pace, "come on, then. cum on my cock, baby."

even at the slight of his request, you begin to fall apart. your muscles tensing up, fingertips digging into his back and your head thrown back as you reach your orgasm. you scream out in pleasure.

"that's it, baby- good girl," mark's hips are still thrusting into yours, though at a slower pace, fucking you through your orgasm. "god," he looks down to see you clenching around him so tightly that it propels him into his own orgasm. "oh, fuck- i'm gonna cum-"

and just as he does, he pulls himself out of you as he shoots his load all over your stomach. still coming down from the high of your own orgasm, you feel an aching void now in between your legs. mark grunts and collapses his head into the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breath as he milks all the cum out of him onto you.

the air is sticky between you two, heavy breathing filling the silence. mark flops onto his bed next to you, one hand covering his forehead.

"are you okay?" he looks over at you.

"yeah," you breathe out, catching your breath.

"good," he mutters as he reaches out to cup your face in his hand. "come here," he pulls the two of you closer on the bed. then, he returns to kissing you ever so gently, his fingers on the back of your neck and his thumb resting in front of your ear. "let's get you cleaned up."

...

you're sitting on mark's bed in a fresh new t-shirt that he gave you, drinking from the glass of water that he also gave you. mark is in the bathroom, cleaning himself off.

now that the heat of the moment's gone, you're not too sure what just happened. what does this all mean? because believe it or not, your original plan with haechan did not include jumping mark's bones.

mark walks out of the bathroom, sweatpants on with a thin white tee. he throws a towel over his shoulder, his hair wet from his shower. you watch as he walks over to his kitchen to grab another glass of water for himself.

he approaches the bed—you—and truly, you did not know if you should address some of your concerns with him. so, what are we? or is this a one time thing? you should've known that this would make you spiral.

he sits down right next to you after setting down his glass on his bedside table. "are you sure you're okay?"

to be met with a consideration like that shocked you a little, when you yourself didn't even think to ask him that. "yeah, why wouldn't i be?" you try to dismiss his worry and concern.

"you just looked a little shaken up- that's all." he watches you for a moment longer before turning his head. you look over at the clock on top of his bedside table: 11:17pm. it's still not too late, you can go home if you wanted, to run away from the consequences of your own actions, but what then? you're still going to see mark tomorrow at the closing race, and leaving now would just make everything the more awkward.

as if he read your mind, mark voices out, "stay the night," he's not looking at you as he says this, "stay with me," but now he is. his hand reaches over and clasps over the back of your hand, giving it a tiny squeeze.

you were about to protest, "don't you know what tomorrow is?" but of course he knew. so instead, you mumble out a fragile, "okay."

he crawls into bed, lifting up his covers, and he pats on the space next to him. taking that as a signal, you set the glass in your hands on your side of the bedside table, and slide in underneath the covers next to him. you pull the sheets up over your shoulders, head laying half on the pillow, half on mark's chest. mark wears a silver necklace with a cross pendant hanging from it. as he's laying down, that pendant droops down the top of his chest sliding along its chain, sitting right in front of your eyes.

you rest your hand over mark's heart, feeling every thump underneath your palm. mark breathes out loud, then he plants a kiss on your head. your fingertips fidget with his pendant.

"can i ask you something?"

mark looks down at you playing with his necklace, "sure."

"why did you start-?" you take the pendant in between your thumb and your pointer finger and you flip it over so the right side is facing you. "...racing?"

you thought you'd knew what was not the answer: money. living in a place like this—no doubt it wasn't cheap.

mark hums. he shifts his body so that he's now laying on the back of his head on top of his hand. "i like it," he drawls.

you tilt your head up to look at him, without a word, saying that's it?

he continues, "my uncle used to do it." he has one arm wrapped around you and you begin to feel a gentle tapping on your shoulder from his fingers. "it's something i can do to remember him by."

before he even lets you contemplate what to say to that that's not "i'm so sorry for your loss," again, he reflects the question back onto you.

"what about you?" he tucks his chin inwards, looking at you lying on his chest. "tell me about your big goals and ambitions," you can tell he's trying to lighten the mood with the way his voice carried an airiness to it.

"mmh, i like it as well," you say, "and it'd be nice to not have to rely on working at that convenience store." you catch yourself in an unexpected moment of unbridled honesty.

you didn't mind it so much—mark. you didn't mind telling him more about yourself; something about being in his arms made you feel like the world was small, and only the two of you are in it.

"for what it's worth, you're my favourite cashier," mark smiled a skittish smile.

"how many cashiers do you know?"

"two."

"i guess i'll take that."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 10AM

you wake up the next morning with an ache in your neck. you raise your head from mark's chest from the night prior. he's asleep.

as quietly as you can, you slide your body out of mark's bed. as soon as you're up on your feet, the scent of mark's cologne hits you—his shirt.

immediately, you get to scavenging for your clothes that got strewn all over the apartment last night in a frenzy. haechan had given you something the night before, and you hid it in the pocket of your skirt—where is it?

you spot your skirt on the floor. you kneel on the floor, hands patting down every panel of the fabric, fingers dipping into every crevice. and then you feel it. something soft, but not like the softness of the skirt. you pull out a carefully folded square of tissue paper. you grip the tissue tightly in your hands, crumpling the square.

you pull your clothes up from the floor and quickly change back into them, shedding out of mark's t-shirt that you toss onto his bed.

tissue still in your hand, your head snaps toward mark—lying there, still asleep. then, your attention turns to the glass next to him. it was half full last night, now it's filled up again. he must've refilled it in the middle of the night.

you look back in your hand. then, at his glass. you close your fingers tightly, folding the tissue paper into itself, and you can feel two distinct pellet shapes pressing into your palm through the paper.

there's no way you can even contemplate this, right?

you recall your conversation with haechan just the previous night, before all of this happened:

"you want me to-?"

"no. whatever you're gonna say- no. well..."

"this is insane," you remembered exclaiming in the living room of haechan's apartment.

"2's barely enough to knock him out, much less kill him," haechan started to sound unhinged trying to rationalise this idea to you. "he'd just be too out of it, he won't show up to closing tomorrow, and boom. you're winning, guaranteed."

your mouth is agape, mind completely blank. there's no way you're willing to drug someone for a race. you may not be the most humble, yes, but being immoral?

haechan seems to have given up trying to convince you, "look, just take it with you. whether you use it or not, it's up to you."

and now you're staring at your closed palm, shocked that you're even hesitating to up and leave right now, when you're given the chance.

they're just sleeping pills. you can hear your thoughts merge with haechan's rationale.

no, no, no, no, no. you have to leave.

you have to leave right now, before doing something you're going to regret.

you contemplated throwing the pills away still wrapped up in the tissue here, at mark's place. but if he finds them, what is he going to think? so, you shove it back inside of the pocket of your skirt, rush to grab whatever you'd taken here with you last night, and hurried off.

...

luckily enough, mark didn't live too far away from where haechan lived, and as you make your way out of the lobby, you can recognise where you are in the city.

you walk the few blocks it takes to get to haechan's place.

bright and early, you knock on his door for once—you didn't bring his key with you last night.

you wait outside for a minute or two, before deciding to knock again. this time, calling out for his name as well.

then, an alert pings through on your phone. a text. from haechan

'you're scaring my hookup.'

before you can type out a response, haechan appears in front of you as his apartment door swings open.

"so, where's the hookup?" you step in, making sure your voice is loud and clear—you know haechan too well.

"she climbed out the window, she was so scared," haechan yawns. his hair messy and his glasses slanted on his nose bridge. "so, what happened?"

you draw out the crumpled piece of tissue from your pocket and hold it up like you're putting it on display for him.

"i knew you weren't going to do it—i'm talking about your outfit. you clearly didn't go home last night... what happened?"

oh, you thought, shit. maybe you should've changed first before coming here. now you have to come up with a logical cover-up, or tell haechan the truth of what happened—you don't know what's worse.

"i guess... i was the hookup who climbed out the window or something, i don't know," you mutter under your breath, trying to shrug it off nonchalantly but you can see haechan's jaw drop.

"oh, my god, yn," a sense of pride booming through in his tone, "look at you turning over a new leaf. sleeping with the competition?" he gives a slight shake of his body that makes you immediately regret your decision to tell him.

"no, it had nothing to do with that," you shake your head, "i don't know."

haechan looks at you with a certain look, one that has his eyebrows raised and one that tells you 'i don't believe you.' "whatever you say~" he mocks. "you're ready for closing tonight, though, right?"

"yeah, i think i am."

NEW YEAR'S EVE, 11PM

you haven't spoken to mark today, yet. you've never exchanged phone numbers, or any social medias now that you think of it.

you spent the day tirelessly getting yourself ready, both physically and mentally, for the big closing race tonight. tonight's the night. tonight is what you've been looking forward to all year. the culmination with 100k on the line. practically double your annual pay all in one night. you don't want to sound shallow, but you don't want to disregard that this could have a genuine impact on your life.

you're familiarising yourself with the streets tucked away in another quiet part of the city. as you're walking through intersections and making turns at the corners, you hear a sudden blast of feedback.

"hello, testing."

the voice is not too loud but strong enough. you decide that you need to put your mind to rest, and walking, roaming these streets weren't going to do that. you make your way back to where the majority of people are; at the finishing line. crowds of onlookers haven't manifested yet, but soon these streets will be full of people, chanting and cheering either at your loss or your triumph.

although you have a few years of experience under your belt, it was this year that rapidly shot you into notability. last year, you also attended a closing race—your first closing race—but your performance wasn't the most remarkable. you had less to lose then. but since then, you've gained more and more recognition, more credibility. it'd be crushing if you had a repeat of what happened last year.

time seems like a blur. before you know it, there's 10 minutes left until the race. tradition was that it begins right as the clock strucks midnight, cars speeding off into the new year. and now you're standing off to the side, watching 11:50 statically on your lock screen.

a group of people heading for one direction catches your attention. the other racers. they're all already getting into their cars, you suppose you should, too.

there's a certain melancholy within you. there shouldn't be, right? tonight's the big night. but you can't fight this feeling away.

you crouch into your car. your previous performances earning you a spot right in front of the starting line; a huge advantage.

you shake off your wrists, cracking one side of your neck, then the other. your fingers grip onto your steering wheel tightly. to your right, you spot minjeong already looking at you, a sweet smile on her face. you turn your focus back onto yourself.

you know what to expect. the 'announcer'—not official, but whatever—will give you a 10 second warning. then, along with the crowd, they'll all count down to the new year from 3, and from there, it's all you.

you still haven't seen mark around, yet, you have no idea what spot he would be in. as you're attempting to get a deep breath into you, the 10 second warning comes... then...

"and everyone! 3!"

"2!"

"1!"

you had your foot already on the gas before '1' was chanted, so once you heard the signal, you shift your gear and you race off onto the meandering street. cheers erupt behind you, but you're already too far gone to hear the choruses of "happy new years!" clearly.

the velocity at which you're racing at forces and pins you against your seat. the grip on your steering wheel tightens. before you knew it, the adrenaline kicks in. minjeong isn't next to you, and you don't have time to check behind you.

you tell yourself you don't care. you don't care where your opponents are at, as long as you're first.

and so, you put yourself in the forefront of your mind. the beginning's gone pretty smoothly so far.

just as you're about to fly past a speed bump, you hear a long beep from behind you. as your tyres land, jolting you in your seat, you flash a quick glance at your rearview mirror. you can barely make out the person's face, but you recognised the car as mark's. shit. and what was he thinking—honking at you—is this a joke to him?

he's following closely behind you, you don't know exactly how close but the audience does. he tails directly behind you as you zoom past the horizontal road running through the starting intersection. for a second, you can hear the collective shouts and hollering as you speed past the crowd. the announcer makes some comment on—you're assuming—how close mark is to you, but you can't hear.

you're nearing the incline, the part of the course that spirals up, then leads back down again reconnecting into the main streets. you press onto your pedal harder to maintain your speed even as you're driving up at an angle. mark is catching up, the front of his car now aligned with where the edge of your door is. you twist your steering wheel, turning way sharper than necessary, but that's the only way you can think of to gain some more ground on mark.

you're going back down now, and the finish line isn't far. one more turn, and it's a straight line to the end. the revving of mark's engine is still within earshot.

approaching the turn, you push your steering wheel down to the left, your body swinging in the opposite direction. you can see the horde of people at the end of the street, now just a blended blob to you, about 100m away.

you glance back at your rearview, and just at that moment, mark looks to have overdone his turn. he quickly recovers from it, but you've gained at least 2 seconds from that, and even a split second matters.

you had it.

the adrenaline now courses all throughout your body, and it's like you get deja vu from that make-pretend race you had with just mark. you step on your gas as hard as you can, like you did before... and you blitz past the finish line. mark, too, right behind you.

you slowly release the pressure on your pedal and you can hear the fanfare in the not-so-far distance. finally, you feel like you can take a breath.

you pull off into the parking lot reserved for the candidates, the whole time with mark following you. there's no spectators around this area. you come to a halt, your body forced forwards before leaning back into your seat again.

you hop out of your vehicle, a jittery feeling arising within you. you'd just won, but you're not sure if that's the sole reason for your giddiness.

mark pops his door open and practically jumps out at you, launching himself towards you with his arms open. "you did it!" mark exclaims. you jump onto him and he catches you, arms tight around your waist.

"oh, my god," you pant, still in disbelief.

"you did it, yn," mark repeats. his smile beaming so brightly.

you look down at him, eyes glimmering, and you can't hold yourself back from kissing him. you take his lips into yours and you wish in that moment that you can stay like that for eternity.

"mark, i-" you're at a loss for words, truly. he puts you down onto the ground again. you exhale.

"you did it, baby," he leans down to peck your cheek softly.

you don't know how to feel. there's a wild range of emotions within you that you can't comprehend all at once.

"go on, they're all waiting for their winner out there. go and celebrate," there's a sweetness in the melody of his voice.

you grab onto mark's hand.

everything else, you're not too sure about, yet, but right now, you want to share this moment with him.

#📂 - nct #mark lee fanfic #mark lee #nct mark #nct dream #nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #mark lee x reader #nct 127 smut #nct smut #kpop #mark x reader #mark lee smut

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chosos-mascara · 2 years

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｡˚۰˚☽ K I N K T O B E R D A Y 30 ☽˚۰˚｡

I'll Treat You Like One - Obanai Iguro

cw: jealousy sex, degradation, name calling, forceful, dub-con, slapping, hair pulling

Obanai catches your glances at Tengen and his wives, and decides it's time to teach you a lesson.

minors+ageless dni. 1.1k words

masterlist

Obanai slammed the door. Angrily rushing through the house, you could hear his footsteps hitting each stair as he'd practically ran in his temper tantrum, breathing audible as he sighed through his mask. His outburst had been due to jealousy, something he'd frequently done after seeing you talk to other men. You'd simply met up with the other hashira, speaking with Tengen and his wives, but Obanai had seen things differently.

He saw how your eyes would drop to cleavage level - even if just for a second. Or how you'd laugh a little too hard at their jokes, and the way they'd reciprocate your borderline flirting by touching you a little too much on the arm, or moving to brush something from your cheek. Today, he'd had enough when Suma had poked fun at the lack of sex you'd had; another clear dig at her distaste to your relationship.

You'd felt a little guilty when she'd brought up something you'd discussed with her in a time of need, feeling that you hadn't been enough for your boyfriend, but the lack of intimacy had been due to his own insecurity. It was a bad jab at the snake pillar, one that even Tengen had slapped her on the wrist about, but Suma always got to be a handful after a few drinks.

You'd told Obanai time and time again that his scars were beautiful, but the facial disfiguration had played a large part in his timidity. He'd suffered a lot from the self consciousness, and you'd felt empathetic to his situation. Though, you wished that he would ease up, and enjoy the time you spent together, instead of worrying about what other people had thought.

Following him, you exhaled heavily at the possessive behaviour, as this was becoming a common theme. "Obanai, please." You huffed, opening the bedroom door to reason with him, racking through the words you'd choose to say in your head, prepared to fight for the next hour.

You stopped in your tracks as you saw him removing the bandages from his face, Kaburamaru slithering from his perch at Obanai's shoulder to move past you to reside in the hall. You stepped into the room, skepticism written on your features as the last loop of the bandages fell, exposing the face you dreamed of. Even after three months of dating, seeing below his nose was a rarity, one that you'd had to bask and appreciate in with every chance you'd gotten.

"If you're going to act like a slut," He spoke, watching you through the mirror he'd been stood in front of, turning to face you as he finished the sentence. "I'll treat you like one."

Obanai's hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling your arm tought until your knees bent and you'd hit the floor beneath you. He pulled his trousers down to knee level, grabbing a fist full of your hair as he forced your face into his crotch. He'd been flaccid, but you took him into your lips anyway, mouth hitting the base of his cock as you warmed him inside your cheeks. His hair fell to surround his face as he looked down at you, and you could feel him harden in your mouth.

"I see the way you gawk at them." His tone was riddled with disdain, a look of pure hate across his expression. You'd attempted to pull back and scold him, but he held your head in place. "Don't start." He rebuked your attempts, pushing his hips forward to slide his now erect cock into the back of your throat. You gagged, but couldn't move as he held your head still. "You're clearly infatuated with them, such a fucking slut." He teased, finally loosening his grip on you, allowing some movement. Your eyes watered but you bobbed back and forth for him, watching his expression for any sign of pleasure, but he'd been too pissed off to give you the satisfaction.

"Whore." He spat, the insult causing a hum to leave your lips, the vibration causing his cock to twitch in your throat. Your arousal to the situation was a little shameful, but you'd continued on nonetheless, taking him as far as you could. He pushed himself deeper, anger fueling his actions as he watched his cock disappear into your mouth. You'd been crying at this point, tears running down to mix with the saliva that had been pooling at your chin, gargles erupting from your tired mouth. You pulled back, but he interlaced the second hand into your hair, pushing you to suction him once more. "Did I tell you to stop?" Obanai shouted, groaning as he took one hand to slap your cheek, leaving a stinging sensation. You continued your previous movements, whining against him while you felt his cock slide to the back of your throat. He was groaning, stomach sucking inward with each motion, pupils following your head as you maneuvered it back and forth. Your jaw had already grown tired, but you'd tried to ignore the ache, pleasing the male before you.

"Gonna be a good slut for me?" He questioned, leering down at you suctioning him, a nod gracing your contorted face, for he'd eased his grip for only a moment. "Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth." Obanai commented, though the stinging sensation from his hand roughly slapping you once more had said otherwise. You brought a hand to pump over the shaft as he'd allowed you to move back a little, fist bumping to meet the drool covered lips you'd had locked around him. You licked over the head of his cock with your tongue, while following the other motions, knowing how he'd liked to be touched from years of experience.

"Gon' swallow my cum like a good whore?" His voice was husky, a tremble laced through the question that he'd tried his best to hide, pleasure evident over his face and tensed body. He groaned, forcing himself further into your mouth, a gag around his head as the seed had shot straight to the back of your throat. You'd coughed, liquid flowing down your esophagus without being able to swallow as his cock had simply forced it's way into your neck, but he'd continued with the action. Obanai kept his eyes open, though squinting, wanting to watch as he'd punished you for the bratty actions you'd taken, admiring the way your salty tears had mixed with the other fluids on your face.

You pulled back, spluttering beneath him. An attempt to get yourself out of the position had Obanai's fingers back in your hair, a sharp pain in your scalp as he'd gripped you tight. "Who said you were getting off that easy?"

#obanai smut #obanai x reader #obanai iguro smut #iguro smut #anime smut #demon slayer smut #demon slayer oneshot #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer x reader #obanai oneshot #obanai fic

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max1461 · 2 months

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I have this notion of "horror", by which I mean something like "badness which is inscrutable or not quite explicable; wrongness which can be experienced but not truly articulated, even in principle". In a horror movie, what do you think happens when a character is dragged away by the ghost? I think most of us do not just feel that they are killed. If we did, movies about ghost would not be much scarier than actuarial tables. I think we feel, on some level, that something worse happens. Something worse than any particular thing we can imagine. It's not death, it's not torture, it's something else. Something inexplicable whose badness cannot even be spoken or imagined. This is "horror".

One of my very core beliefs is the non-existence of true horror. I believe that all actually existing harms can, with enough thought, be put straightforwardly and mundanely. I believe that whenever something bad really happens, we can speak it, we can imagine it, and we can denounce it in plain terms, if we really try.

I don't like horror because I think it robs us of our power and of our basic dignity in the face of struggle. If we are suffering, we must be able if absolutely nothing else to say "here is what is hurting me, and setting aside all other factors, that fact qua that fact is an injustice". The existence of true horrors would, on a metaphysical level, rob us of the ability to do that.

I imagine this discussion will seem like pure navel gazing (in the derogatory sense) to some, but to me it's quite important. People invoke horrors all the time. I think it's a pretty frequent throughline in gender/relationship discourse. People see a bit of horror in sex, romance, gender dynamics and so on.

If faced with a true horror, very few lines of recourse (practical or metaphysical) are available to you. You must run and keep running forever or you must kill it. I think large swaths of gender discourse are mediated by this principle; I think both incels and radfems (wrong as they are about many particular issues of fact) are at some level both motivated by the belief in horrors, the belief that the injustices they have genuinely been faced with are horrors and not plain things, and therefore that they have only the options to run or to kill. Why this is bad for them and bad for the rest of us is clear enough.

I say: horrors do not exist. All harms are mundane harms, even the most heinous. All harms can be spoken, named, laid bare for any sober mind to see. We may be vulnerable to physical attack, but we are invulnerable to metaphysical attack.

#navel gazing

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a-d-nox · 2 months

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I was wondering if you could do a simplified way to read a chart. like use an example chart and show where you start with and so on

how to read a chart: the planets' signs and houses

the most simple way to read a chart is to break things down by sign, planet, and house. its better to start with the basics then step it up to evaluating the aspects in a chart, degrees, house rulers, asteroids, etc. there is plenty more to look at but this is a starting point - if there is interest, i will continue the discussion in a series. i am going to do something that i have never done before and dissect my own chart in front of everyone who is reading this in the most non-biased way in which i am capable.

the ascendant

pisces: as we know, a pisces rising is a skilled chameleon. they are so skilled that they can vanish into their surroundings. it is uncommon for a pisces to stand out even though they can be thought of as beautiful. most people take them for granted - people don't often give them the recognition they deserve. and because they don't, a pisces rising will undervalue themselves. not that they really want tons of recognition and power - that can be too much for an aloof and dreamy pisces person. a pisces rising is likely to create a persona to present to others - they can very quickly lose their true self to it too...

sun

scorpio: its like a dramatic love story - sex appeal meets jealously and obsessiveness. scorpio suns are known for their depth, obsessive, and analytical thoughts. they, like sheldon cooper, "don't need sleep" they "need answers". they will take things to the extreme if they don't find the answers they seek. they seek insight and intimacy - they want everything they can get out of life. scorpios are natural chasers - persistent ones at that. they are a bit childish though because they want everything to themselves including their knowledge - they might even weaponize what they know to be cruel to those they feel wronged them.

8h: 8h sun people are deep people - they don't do fluffy stuff. they like things succinct and purposeful. often they are identified as know intuitives - i mean they have the ability, they just need to tap into it and use/control it. they often hunger for self-knowledge (stuff like shadow-work, psychology, astrology, philosophy, etc is attractive to them). introspection is an art form for them. they enjoy analyzing and obsessing over things like that. either a 8h sun is driven by sex OR money, growth, and power OR maybe all of the above.

moon

scorpio: they have a very deep well of emotional energy - they feel nothing halfway. they are easily provoked and can go 0 to 100 very quickly (they are prone to boiling over / experiencing sudden outbursts). every emotion is very pure/vivid. they can be harsh and even cruel in emotional situations... emotionally, they are possessive and tend assume that others around them don't have it as bad as they do. everything can be a comparison for them - if someone is upset over something, they will comment with something "worse" that they previously experienced. they are quick to respond/react - they aren't the type to think before responding when they are upset. though they are sensitive, they have great inner strength and have the power to overcome any difficult emotional situations.

8h: emotionality is like a sixth sense - these people are intuitively gifted; they can sense not only their own feelings but everyone else's around them too. they are often obsessive when they feel intensely like this, especially when they are romantic. trust to them is the most important part of any connection. they are naturally jealous and suspicious of others so when they can't trust someone to be honest with them, they won't be vulnerable at all - they become cold and stoic. their trust issues are next level and often need professional help to work through. security is important to them in all senses so monetary savings are of their interest too.

mercury

scorpio: these people are intuitive and are known for their intensity. they have the gift of being logical/rational and determined all at once - they make great sleuths and detectives. generally, they struggle to leave any stones unturned. they hunger for truth and honesty, thus they enjoy research and the search for such. there is a tendency to become obsessive with the hunt for truth and honesty. they are often more introverted and apathetic than those around them. they struggle to open up just as they struggle to find honesty/trustworthiness in those around them. they are intellectual individuals who are easily fascinated.

8h: pessimism and/or deep thoughts are real with this placement. they have a dark mind that might be best suited for philosophy (especially existentialism) and/or occultism. they are predisposed to being overwhelmed by their emotions and being overly sensitive. often they are overcome by fantastical thoughts due to their over active mind. they seek spiritual growth via research and exploring life's many mysteries.

venus

sagittarius: these people are warm, enthusiastic, and lively. they require their independence - feeling tied too one person can be suffocating to them, especially, if that one person only fills their sexual or intellectual needs. they require both to feel comfortable staying in a connection. even then they are likely to experience more than one great romance in their lifetime. their relationships are best built on friendship first.

9h: there is a great hunger for travel and experience when it comes to this person. they are extremely likely to fall in love with a foreign land or a foreigner. it is considered rare for them to never travel and to in the stay in the same place they were born life long. they are notably wise and philosophical people who have an idealistic view and opinion of the world around them. university is likely to be an enjoyable experience for them where they gain more than just bookish experience that impacts them life long.

mars

virgo: these are willing and hard workers. they have a lot of nervous energy and tend to want to keep their hands busy - they don't do well when there is nothing to do. it makes them edgy and tense. they require a steady routine and timetables. without such things they might lose motivation to get anything done and they likely feel pain bodily (they have a stomach ache, head ache, skin issues, etc). but when they have something to do they are patient and detailed with their work. if they lack self-confidence, their work could fail to come to fruition. too much attention to detail may lead to analysis paralysis.

7h: these people are passionate and are willing to work through anything in a connection. they do have the tendency to push their partners too much to the point where they push them away. their relationships are always with a sense of purpose and direction - they are unlikely to date without intentions of a long term connection. these partnerships are great for those that professionally work together as well - they tend to have a shared objective in that monetary matter.

jupiter

gemini: these people are knowledge starved. enough is never enough for them - they are intellectually restless. they could seem very scattered because they seek knowledge of all things. they need to be more consistent with their efforts if they wish to gain anything at all. these individuals are broad/open minded and tend to be very clever. they have a quick mind that critically thinks in the craftiest ways possible.

3h: these people feel a great need to exercise their mind, and they seek intellectual challenges. often they wish to share their opinions and they tend to impose them on to others (they frequently think their opinion is fact). they have excellent communication skills and a great sense of what is just and what is not. they are people of their word and that word is reliable. they love school and to learn - even when school ends for them, they will continue to seek education. they are restless people who need both mental and physical mobility.

saturn

taurus: these people are patient, careful, and cautious. they will persist despite suffering until they have or accomplish whatever it is they want. while they are typically kind they can however become mean and overly frugal. they are ambitious and often seek financial stability which can support their their lifestyle. they frequently will ask if they truly need something however. they are overly rigid and routine oriented. they grow to appreciate what is functional over what is beautiful.

3h: it is possible that this person hated school or didn't think they were good at it at some point. often, they triumph as time goes on however. they develop skills (and fill gaps in their education) to overcome obstacles they have in the educational sector and might even become first in their class or prominent in some other way. these people are sensible and practical - they tend to be cautious and conservative when it comes to their long-term plans.

uranus

aquarius: this generation is notably kind, friendly, and inclusive. they want everyone to feel comfortable and as though they belong and are supported. often everyone in the generation has a bit of a humanitarian streak. they wish to keep their independence in most every way. they can be a bit unpredictable, inventive, and original. they typically associate money as a means of charity to ease suffering in a practical way.

12h: these people feel the need to be charitable and make sacrifices for others. strangely, they have the tendency of doing so in a logical and unemotional/cool/detached way. they do so because of some subconscious belief/motivation. often, they will trying to understand what they do and why they do it using astrology, when they truly should leave it to the psychological professionals.

neptune

aquarius: i feel like this is why we are the way we are online as a generation. we can be hyper emotional one moment then cold and detached the next. we like to stand out yet we are followers of trends and prefer to blend in. we are sensitive and intuitive, yet uncomfortable with dependence and prefer a touch of logic.

11h: these people tend to have a lively social life that keeps them busy, however, they might not have the best circle of friends. their friends might take them in, only to use them. their caring nature is often used. they enjoy helping others. they aren't fans of having lots of responsibilities. they might be very worried or concerned when having such - heavy expectations cause them too much stress.

pluto

sagittarius: this group of people is in a mental tug-of-war. they are open but secretive. they seek independence yet are possessive. they are fun loving yet prefer intimacy and intensity. often, this combo appears to me like a purge moment - get all the terrible energy out every once and awhile and be civil the next period of time. we are the people of the revolution; we see it in how we stand up to political powers and fight for our rights. we do what we do because we are wise and know that all people deserve freedom and autonomy.

9h: this is a compulsive studier who loves a mental challenge. it doesn't matter how advanced the topic is, they desire it. often to the point of mental strain. they desire intellectual perfection - this is their downfall as they force themselves to the extreme and only become unhappy with their progress and frustrated with themselves. they frequently give up and walk away in a dramatic fashion to their detriment. apart from that, i recommend that they visit a country apart from their own as they are likely to gain significant experience and knowledge in a foreign place apart from the one they already know.

the midheaven

sagittarius: to an outsider they appear excited and enthusiastic to just exist in a space. people might see them as risk takers. they are boisterous to those that watch them - they are charming, flirty, and quite funny. but they need to be careful their charm and flirtiness can attract the wrong people or cause them to assume the wrong instincts. not everyone finds the jokes that are made funny - some find them insulting. they can also seem flighty and like they do too much at once. it is important that they read the fine print of any public or high up position that they take.

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wholoveseggs · 2 months

Note

Hi this request will probably be a bit different but I’m hoping you’re ok with it

I’m a trans guy and I was wondering if you could do a Elijah smut with a he/him pronoun y/n? If you don’t want to do mlm smut then maybe just change pronouns?

For the actual fic

You’re first time and Elijah is like really sweet with u but also dominant lots of good boy and praise n stuff

Tyyy

Perfect

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a date with Elijah, you want to take things to the next level and he makes you feel like the only boy in the world.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @elijahmikaelsonsboy ! this was a fun challenge and I hope it's what you wanted (I truly believe that Elijah is a pansexual king... he had chemistry with Damon~) ♡♡

2.8k words - Warnings: pure smut no plot, transmale!reader, virgin!reader, sprinkle of dom!elijah, blowjob, lots of praise...

You adjusted your shirt and tie in the mirror, smoothing out your hair for the fourth time. There was this piece that just wouldn't stay down no matter what you did. You wondered how Elijah managed to never have a hair out of place, you made a mental note to ask him.

It was finally here, the night you were going to tell him. The night you would confess that you loved him. The plan was to tell him after your date... Or maybe during. You weren't sure. He had said it was just a casual date, nothing fancy. But you wanted to impress him, so you made sure there wasn't a single wrinkle found on the dress shirt and pants you were wearing. Your tie was a perfect knot, the shoes you wore had not a scuff on them.

He arrived at your door looking amazing as always. His hair was perfectly styled, his suit a perfect fit, and the way his dark eyes pierced through yours... It made you weak in the knees. He smiled and offered you his arm, kissing your cheek. "You look very handsome tonight."

You smiled back, kissing him. "Thank you. You look very handsome yourself."

You spent most of the ride there making idle chit chat, just talking about each other's days and such. You were so happy to have him in your life, sometimes you couldn't believe how lucky you were.

When you met him you had made the assumption that he was only interested in women. You had no idea that he was pansexual until he kissed you. You were surprised, of course, but pleasantly so. After that, he had been taking you on dates every other week, and you fell more and more in love with him as time went on.

You were ready to take things to the next level, but you were nervous about it. You had never gone all the way with anyone before, and the last thing you wanted was for it to be disappointing for him.

It didn't help that he was so much more experienced than you. You had discussed it one night while cuddling, and he said it wasn't a big deal. You felt better after that, but you still worried.

Tonight he took you to go see a movie, it was one of those big blockbuster films that was a long awaited sequel. You had seen the trailer and were excited, and when you saw the posters and the crowd at the theater you got even more excited.

It was the perfect date. You couldn't focus on the movie, however, because your mind was racing with the possibility of having sex for the first time. You were nervous about a number of things, him seeing your body, what it would feel like and how you would react, not being any good at it. The list went on and on.

After the movie, you drove to his place and ordered some takeout. You tried to keep a conversation going, but you kept spacing out. He noticed your lack of interest in the conversation and placed a hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Are you okay?"

You smiled at him and squeezed his hand back. "I'm fine. Sorry I'm being quiet. Just thinking."

He leaned over and kissed your forehead. "That's alright. What is on your mind?"

You leaned in and kissed him, gently. He responded in kind, moving his lips against yours. He pulled away, brushing his fingers along your cheek.

"I've just been thinking a lot lately. About us." You whispered, looking into his eyes.

"Thinking about us, huh? Well, I'm all ears." He gave you another quick kiss, casually playing with your tie.

You swallowed hard, "you know how I've never..?"

He nodded. "I do."

"I want to."

He gave you a gentle smile, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

He kissed your neck. "Well, I am always up for the task." He chuckled

You nodded, blushing a bit as he stood and took your hand, leading you upstairs. He opened his bedroom door and pulled you inside, kissing you softly. He knew how nervous you were, and he didn't want to rush you.

He sat on the bed and pulled you onto his lap, his hands on your hips. You draped your arms over his shoulders and pressed your lips to his, closing your eyes.

Elijah began to undo your tie, then the top two buttons of your shirt. He trailed kisses from your mouth to your jaw and then down to your neck, pausing at the juncture of your shoulder. He gently scraped his teeth across your skin and you gasped, clutching his shoulders.

"You smell nice, is that my cologne?" he asked, pressing his lips to your throat.

"It is," you breathed, running a hand through his hair. "I may have borrowed some."

"Mmhm." He kissed you again, his tongue slipping past your lips.

You let him control the kiss, melting into him as his tongue explored your mouth. Your tongues slid together, fighting for dominance. He pulled back, panting.

He kissed your cheek, moving his hands up your sides and onto your chest. He slipped his hands inside your shirt, his thumbs grazing over your nipples.

"Is this okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip.

"Use your words, handsome,”

"Y-yes." You managed to get out.

He pinched one of your nipples and you gasped, gripping his shirt.

"That's my good boy." He purred.

He took your shirt off and tossed it onto the floor. He ran his fingers down your sides, tracing the outline of your ribs.

He pressed his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around the hardening nub. You gripped his hair, arching your back.

"So sensitive," he murmured.

He moved to the other nipple, sucking on it until you were squirming in his lap. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, and you blushed.

He lifted his head and smirked. "Feels good, huh?"

"Yeah." You whispered, blushing more.

"You're so cute when you blush." He grinned, pressing his lips to yours again.

He undid your belt, and unbuttoned and unzipped your pants. Reaching inside, he touched you through your underwear.

"Oh, someone's already so wet." He chuckled, rubbing his thumb over the damp fabric.

You bit your lip, grinding into his hand. His hands felt so good on you, his thumb sliding across your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

He pulled your pants and underwear down for better access. You moaned at the feeling of his fingers stroking you, teasing your entrance.

"Look at you, all worked up and we've barely even started." He whispered.

He pulled his hand away, and you groaned in frustration. You tugged on his tie, pulling him in for a kiss. He chuckled and bit down gently on your lip.

"Patience, mister."

You ignored him and began to unbutton his shirt, running your fingers over his bare chest. Your fingers moving through his soft chest hair.

"Can I touch you a little bit?" You asked shyly, running your fingers down his abs.

"Of course."

You unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down, freeing his erection. It was big, and the thought of it filling you up was exciting and scary at the same time. You stroked him, wrapping your fingers around the shaft and pumping slowly.

"Mmm." He groaned, leaning his head back.

You continued stroking him, rubbing your thumb across the tip. He moaned, thrusting his hips up.

You moved off his lap and onto your knees in front of him, you never had done this before, but you wanted to make him feel good. You looked up at him, and he smiled down at you.

"You don't have to." He whispered, running a hand through your hair, messing it up a bit.

You smiled, kissing the head of his cock. You took the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

"Show me how?" You asked, blushing a bit.

He guided you, placing his hand on the back of your head. "Suck on the tip. Lick the underside. Use your tongue. You can use your hands, too."

You did as he instructed, taking him in as far as you could without gagging. Your cheeks felt hot, and you could feel yourself getting wetter.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good." He whispered.

You closed your eyes and bobbed your head, taking him deeper with every movement. He groaned, tugging on your hair.

The sounds he was making were turning you on, and you felt yourself clench.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to cum."

You pulled back, releasing his cock with a pop. "Will you to cum in my mouth?"

A flash of something dark and dangerous crossed his face, he gave you a crooked smile and his voice dropped lower, "aren't you a dirty boy,"

You blushed, looking down at his cock. It was shiny with your saliva, and was leaking precum. You leaned forward and licked it, lapping up his release.

He groaned, and pulled you back onto his lap, kissing you hungrily. His hands tore away your pants and underwear, leaving you naked and vulnerable. He gripped your hips and licked along your chest, biting on your nipples and then soothing the sting with his tongue.

You began to tremble a bit, knowing what the next step was. Elijah noticed and stopped, stroking your cheek.

"You okay?" He asked.

You nodded.

"Just nervous, that's all."

"I'll be gentle, I promise."

You kissed him again, grinding your hips down into his. He reached down and rubbed your clit in slow circles, making you moan.

"You don't have to be that gentle," you breathed, feeling lusty and wild.

He let out a soft hum, slipping a finger into you, watching your eyebrows arch up. He chuckled, the sound reverberating deep within his chest.

"You're so sensitive," he mused.

He began to pump his finger in and out, watching as your mouth fell open and your eyes closed.

"I bet I could make you cum like this, just with my fingers," he mused, slipping another finger inside.

"Mmm." You moaned, rolling your hips.

"Or maybe with my tongue," he murmured, leaning in to press his lips to your neck.

"Elijah," you breathed, "stop teasing me."

He chuckled. "But it's so much fun," he said, punctuating his words with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers.

You groaned, bucking your hips. He smirked, pressing his lips to yours. He suddenly flipped you over, pinning you down with his body, and then his hand was between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out of you, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your sensitive nub.

He let out a low growl, leaning in to nip at your ear. "Naughty boy, making a mess, all flushed and sweaty." He whispered.

He pulled his fingers out and positioned himself at your entrance. You tensed, looking up at him.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, stroking your cheek.

You shook your head. "No."

He kissed you, pushing inside of you. You gasped, biting down on his lip. You felt so full, so stretched, it was a little painful and yet... It felt so right with him.

He stilled, giving you time to adjust. You took a few deep breaths, trying to relax.

"Eyes on me," he whispered, cupping your cheek.

You looked up at him, and the love and lust shining in his eyes took your breath away.

He began to move, slowly, rolling his hips against yours. You moaned, arching your back, trying to match his rhythm.

He nipped at your neck then moved down to your chest, biting at your nipples, before sucking on them, making you whimper and squirm.

"Do you like that? When I suck on your cute, little nipples?" He whispered.

"Y-yes."

He hummed, his teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh. Your hands tugged on his hair, urging him on.

He chuckled, sucking on the bud. He released it with a wet pop, moving to the other one. You moaned, your hips bucking.

He groaned, picking up the pace. He took your hands and pinned them to the bed, intertwining his fingers with yours. He watched your expressions, your eyes shut tight, your mouth slightly parted, a flush on your cheeks.

He was honored that you trusted him enough to be your first. You were a beautiful soul, and he was grateful for the privilege.

"You are such a good boy, all nice and wet for me. So good, my beautiful, precious boy," he murmured.

"Elijah," you gasped.

He grunted, kissing your lips. He rolled his hips, thrusting deep and hard. He felt you tighten around him at his praise, and he smiled, he enjoyed learning what turns you on..

He nuzzled your neck, sucking on the skin, leaving little bites and hickeys. You arched your back, wrapping your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts.

"You like when I bite you, baby?"

"Yes." You whimpered.

He nibbled on your earlobe, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

"What about when I do this?" His thrusts became harder, slamming you with such a force you moved a bit on the bed.

You nodded, too blissed out for words.

"Or when I do this?" He let go of one of your hands and trailed his fingers down your chest and stomach, pressing down on your lower abdomen.

Your eyes widened and you moaned loudly, the sudden pressure almost too much.

He smirked, nuzzling your neck, licking and biting, his tongue and teeth tracing along the tendons of your neck.

His grip was strong, his fingers digging into your flesh. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and harder, pounding you into the mattress.

"Do you want to cum, mister y/n?"

"Y-yes."

He kissed your lips. "Beg me," he growled.

You were surprised, but the roughness was thrilling. "Please, please let me cum."

"Mmm, not yet," he purred.

You groaned, your legs beginning to shake.

"Elijah," you pleaded, your voice cracking.

He chuckled, "such a good boy, begging so well."

You clenched around him, panting and whimpering. You could feel Elijah losing control, his pace becoming erratic. His breath was coming in harsh gasps.

He kissed you, his tongue delving deep into your mouth. His thrusts were wild and desperate, the sound of flesh slapping together loud in the quiet room.

"Cum for me, my boy," he commanded, his voice a deep growl.

You obeyed, clenching around him. You cried out, your eyes rolling back in your head, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

"So perfect," he murmured, pressing his lips to your throat.

You collapsed, panting, sweat trickling down your back. He released your hand, his fingers ghosting along your skin.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his tone tender.

"Yeah." You whispered, looking up at him.

He kissed your forehead. "It wasn't too much?" He asked, cupping your cheek.

"No." You said breathlessly, your mind still spinning from the intensity of it all.

"Good." He pulled out of you, and you grimaced. He noticed, and his eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Just a bit sore, but I'll be fine." You assured him, reaching up and brushing your thumb across his cheek.

He pressed a kiss to your palm, then got out of the bed, scooping you up.

"I know just the thing," he said, carrying you to the bathroom.

He set you down on the edge of the tub, and started the bath. Once the water was warm, he helped you in, and then climbed in behind you.

"Lean back," he said softly.

You did, resting against his chest. He gently washed your body, being careful to avoid the more sensitive areas.

"Thank you 'lijah," you whispered.

"Of course," he said, his voice quiet and soft.

He kissed your neck, wrapping his arms around you. You closed your eyes, feeling warm and safe.

He ran his fingers through your hair, making it stick up in weird places. He chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back.

"I learned so much about you today," he said, a teasing lilt to his tone.

"Did you now?" You asked, your cheeks heating.

"Indeed, I did." He chuckled.

"Like what?"

He leaned down, pressing his lips to your ear. "Like how sensitive you are," he whispered. "How much you like being praised." He nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Mmm." You sighed, relaxing.

"And," he added, "how good you are at begging."

You giggled, covering your face.

"But I didn't get to explore all the ways to make you beg," he teased.

"We have time," you said, smiling.

He hummed, kissing the side of your head. "I love you," he murmured.

"I love you too," you said, turning to look up at him.

You would never forget this night and how special Elijah had made it. How he made you feel. How loved you were.

It was perfect and you couldn't wait for more.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #transgender #trans man #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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sepublic · 5 months

Text

Jokes aside, I’d argue Belos isn't openly homophobic because there's no point to it; There's no point in trying to 'redeem' witches and demons by changing their lifestyles if he's convinced himself they're all going to Hell anyway, so the only thing he needs to do is kill them. "Why bother teaching them anything if you can just wipe them out?"

Belos only changes aspects of witches' lives that are directly necessary to his plans; In this case, applying sigils by justifying the lack of them as 'wild magic', and then keeping magic divided with different covens so they can't easily rebel against the system that's applying sigils, thereby allowing it to keep doing that and marking as many targets as possible for the draining spell. It's really quite simple. That's why he'll refuse to replenish the Palistrom forests but then promote women like Hettie and Terra to coven heads; Because Hettie and Terra will be killed by the draining spell anyway, but Palismen won't be.

And let's be real... He's a Puritan white guy. He absolutely believes that queerness is inherently a threat to society not just on a spiritual level but a biological one, because it discourages people from making babies because they're more focused on partners of the same sex they can't reproduce with. He probably thought Boiling Isles queerness was contributing to an inevitable decline that he merely hastened and that's why he allowed it. And Belos can't be openly bigoted because people wouldn't listen to him that way.

He's also definitely racist. Belos making an 'exception' for Luz is totally meaningless because white racists make exceptions for brown and gay folk all the time, while still clinging to their beliefs. Luz just happened to be the only human around since centuries, and that's better than no humans because the lowliest one is still above the greatest demon. And he still tried to murder Luz when she didn't flatter his white savior complex, and didn't adhere to his idea of what a proper human should be.

Even if Belos didn't try to kill Luz... Genocide isn't just murdering people. It's also erasing a culture, such as when white people assimilated Native American children, forcing them to convert to Christianity and dress like white people and speak only English, under the claim that they were 'civilizing' them. So even if they were alive, it was still genocide and it was still racism in the form of the White Man's Burden.

He was a white boy raised in a colony, everyone would've taught him that the indigenous people were 'savages' and Philip not only devoted his life to exterminating an entire culture he deemed evil and demonic, but actively enjoyed it too. Why would he stop at brown humans, unlike Caleb who already unlearned one major prejudice of his. If he never learned of the Boiling Isles, he'd have gone after women in Gravesfield (which would've been misogynistic in practice regardless of Philip's intentions), and probably Native Americans too because his witch hunting games are no different than Cowboys VS Indians.

Like I dunno man these white racists do have fellow white people they care about, and are willing to make exceptions and humor brown women too. But they're still racist and will refuse to listen to those people when called out over their bigotry, and ultimately choose that. Any argument that Belos wouldn't be guilty of other human prejudices is purely wishful thinking, and fairly contradictory to his characterization and whole narrative.

And we can wax poetic about why Belos doesn't openly disparage Luz for being brown, queer, and/or a girl, but we know the real reason why; It's because Disney censors would throw a conniption over portrayals of bigotry, and the show was already shortened for 'not fitting the brand'. Look at how Texas banned critical race theory. They think discussing racism is inherently racist, kinda like Twitter users. But with the added difference that they know it's a callout of the people running corporations and the government and investors (AKA themselves) and they hate that.

This kinda gets me back to an earlier point I made; I think the fundamental disconnect fans have with the show over Belos is that Belos stans (not necessarily fans) recognize their character's backstory and motives are something gross that can't be romanticized, and that's why they work so hard to reframe the focus towards Philip's dynamic with his brother Caleb, emphasizing codependency, and religious suppression and guilt. Because they can romanticize that, but not the intentionally pathetic core of Belos' character (itself a satire of certain subgroups).

They're seething over the reminder that their sexy aesthetic will always be second-banana to a 4channer complex, and salty that the crew chose to discuss something topical instead of making a sexyman villain, because their complaints can be boiled down to tastes and preferences, not actual objective critique. That's also why they claim the finale 'retconned' Belos and stripped him of nuance, because all the show really did was just frame and acknowledge his desire to be right as cowardly and selfish, instead of flattering him with tortured abandonment angst over a brother he never cared enough for. As if we didn’t have the ghosts in the previous episode for that purpose.

#the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #racism #homophobia #misogyny

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genderkoolaid · 10 months

Note

What do you think about the concept of "since kink and porn is an art form, you should be able to critique it like an artform" (but like, with actual critique rather than just kink-phobia AND ALSO don't critique someone's specific piece of art if they didn't ask you to, like we're still applying the basic rules of art critique to this).

In the same way you would examine and criticize someone animating a character saying something violently transphobic, you would criticize someone for making violently transphobic porn. (Of course there is nuance to this, just because a character says something violently transphobic doesn't mean the creator is transphobic in that and same with violent transphobic porn)

But I guess in order to get to that point, we need to get past the "it's not morally pure" and "you're gross for liking that" type shit in order to do that in a healthy way. Because I believe there is a healthy and honest way to critique porn and what kind of message people are putting out into the world with porn (oddly enough, porn can be used as propaganda), but I don't think we as a society are ready to do that with the current state of puritanism.

I would say, one, that kink =/= porn. I think it makes sense to critique porn like an artform, but kinky sex in private is, y'know, private, so it would be weird to try and artistically critique someone's sex life. Not all kink exists for public consumption & it private kink shouldn't be judged like its inherently meant to be consumed by the public. Porn, on the other hand, is meant to be viewed (for purposes of arousal), and that includes kinky porn. (Also, we can critique the way people do kink, but I don't think that should be compared to how art is critiqued yk? Like there's a difference between artistically critiquing movies about sports and critiquing the way sports are played. And when it comes to interpersonal relationships it should really be left to people actually involved in the situation since they know their needs best.)

I definitely think there's merit in critiquing porn in an artistic sense. But it definitely has to be done from a perspective outside of "this is depicting a Bad Thing and making it seem like a Good Thing, therefore its Bad." Personally, I think more should be done to emphasize the kink aspect of kink- a lot of CNC porn removes the context of kink, which is extremely important for not only engaging in but just understanding CNC. If you listen to people who have rape kinks & engage with them in healthy ways, its very clear that part of the arousal is the fact that its in a kinky context, and the knowledge that you either have power taken away or are given power based on mutual trust. I said this before in another post but I think a lot of the negative things attributed to kinky porn itself comes from people consuming it without having any kink education to put that porn in context. But this has to come alongside systemic changes to how we approach kink and sex in general, and make it easier for people to get educated about these things in an open way. I very strongly feel that we should have some kind of at least surface level kink education in sex ed- by "surface level" I mean, at the very least, getting the concepts of "scene" "safeword" "soft/hard limits" "SSC/RACK" "aftercare" etc. into the general consciousness.

Anyways, the point is that if your critique only goes as deep as "this makes rape seem good, and thats harmful!" then its not a very good critique. But something like "the choking method used is dangerous and shouldn't be encouraged" or "this video showed the discussion of safewords and limits before the actual scene, which emphasis that its a scene & encourages good communication" could be very helpful.

But also, why limit porn critique to that? I wanna see people writing articles about the camera angles & the talents of the performers.

#m.#ask box #rape tw

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604to647 · 3 months

Text

Safest with You (Ch. 11 - The Poker Game)

5.9K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din hosts a poker game and invites you and your friends; the meeting of friends prompts a discussion about the status of your relationship.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), new-ish established relationship, dirty talk and teasing, mentions of infidelity (not Din), reader gets in her own head a bit (some anxiety), pet names as usual (Pretty bird, pretty girl, baby, sweetheart, etc.), reader is described as shorter than Din and Din can pick her up.

A/N: Please kindly suspend your disbelief and allow me to write Poe Dameron as Boba Fett’s son 😂😂😂 Like, when I thought of a roguish, charming, sh*t disturber son of a mob boss, Oscar Isaac’s delicious face just came to mind 🤷🏻‍♀️ I'm going to level with you, I wasn't a big fan of Poe in the Sequel trilogy - too much fly boy/fuck boi energy for me, and that's kind of how I'm writing him here. I'm sorry, Poe-lovers, please don't come after me! (For the record, I *am* a big fan of OI!)

I ran a poll on WIP Wednesday asking asking if there was a preference to separate the smut at the end this chapter into its own post. I told myself that if even one person answered that they wanted it separate, then I would do that; it's easy enough to click on the link at the end of the chapter to take you to the smut if you so choose! I hope no one is disappointed that the storyline is moving in the direction where smut will be a regular addition to the chapters - but if that's not your bag, I totally understand! I'm sorry if you need to go and am so thankful that you've read along to this point 😘😘😘

Series Masterlist

In the following weeks, you and Din fall into a comfortable rhythm and easily slot each other into your busy lives.

Your nightly dog walks resume and on most week nights Din tries to stay at your apartment, with you working late more often than not and it being closer to your office. He’s becoming a familiar face to your work colleagues, bringing you (and often them as well) dinner as an easy and welcomed excuse to see you. Some days he’ll just join you for a lunch trip to your favourite sandwich shop and the two of you will have a quick picnic outside your office building if the weather is warm enough. Weekends are for long, lazy dates that span the entire day, rolling into romantic dinners that have you and Din eating your way across the city. It’s so easy being with Din; the conversation never stops, the sex is brain meltingly good, and he never ceases to make you feel adored. If anyone were to ask, you were the smartest, funniest, most beautiful woman on this planet and Din would readily unretire his boxing gloves if anyone dared to disagree. Every moment with Din makes you giddy; not only is this bear of a man actually a secret softie, he’s also goofy and funny, and lucky for you, his new favourite pastime is to make you laugh.

One night over dinner, you mention in passing that you love the arm waving tube men outside of used car dealerships (actually, you don’t know what they’re called, so you did a sort of arm flail with both your arms above your head and Din almost died laughing). The following Saturday, you arrive at the gym in the afternoon to find that Din has rented two tube men and they’re bending, blowing this way and that, arms flying and rippling from the force of the air being blown from the fan units in their base. You join a large group of onlookers in front of the gym, mostly children, laughing and watching with amusement as the silly attention-grabbing gimmick brings you pure unadulterated joy for a good 10 minutes. After going in, you find Din folding some towels next to the boxing ring and you launch yourself at him directly, too full of laughter and delight to care who sees. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” you murmur against his lips, unable to stop smiling. Din picks you up so you can wrap your legs around him, not caring who sees either; he wants everyone at the gym to know whose girl you are. Feeling your big smile against his mouth before seeing it, he grins, “You’re welcome, pretty bird.”

“Are they a permanent feature?”

“Unfortunately, no. Just for the weekend, then I have to give them back to the used car lot down the street, Watto’s. Plus, people keep coming in asking if we’re having a special on memberships today,” he says with a groan.

Giggling, you slide down Din’s body and give him a long, deep kiss, one that will guarantee a fair bit of ribbing from the guys, before heading up to Din’s apartment via the gym’s second floor entrance. Most of these indulgent weekends start at Din’s so he can stay close to work – you take to baking in Din’s apartment and bringing down treats for the patrons, which are generally very well received. When you brought down ginger molasses cookies, Greef had jokingly scolded you saying his boxers shouldn’t have too many sweet treats as part of their training, before scarfing down two cookies, then swatting Jimmy’s hand away from the plate and pocketing three more. You’re sure your offering the following weekend of high fibre raisin bran muffins were better for training regimens, but the enthusiasm for them seemed lower.

Din’s place, the apartment and the gym as an extension, starts to feel more and more comfortable; a small collection of your things (books, toiletries) have migrated to his apartment, and you love that the familiar faces at Mando’s are starting to fold into your life as well.

The only small twinge of regret you have is that with all the time you're spending with Din, especially the time spent at his place, you’re not spending as much time with Al. He’s more than welcomed at Din’s but you hadn’t wanted to uproot him too much, or impose too much on Din too quickly, so on the weekends Bea’s been coming by to walk Al and take care of him. You miss your special guy, your long weekend walks and dog park events; as you cut the butter into your shortbread cookie dough in Din’s kitchen, you decide that you have to make more of an effort to make sure Al isn’t left out.

“Can you do me a favour?”

“Anything, pretty bird.”

“Do you think you might be able to hang out with Al tomorrow night? I feel like he’s feeling a little neglected, and I don’t want to leave him alone. I’d take him to Rory’s but her building has a weird no pets rule,” you pout a little as you scratch Al’s head with one hand while holding the phone to your ear with your other.

Without hesitation, Din agrees, “Sure, baby. I’d love to have him over during poker night. Guarantee he won’t feel lonely.”

“I’ll make some food for your poker night as a thank you! And I’ll bring a dog bed too. God knows I have a few to spare,” you chuckle as you scan your apartment to pick a bed to bring.

“No need, pretty bird. I bought Al a dog bed for here already.”

“Of course you did,” you smile to yourself. Thoughtful, thoughtful man.

And that’s how you find yourself with two big bags of food, an overnight bag each for yourself and a dog, and said dog in tow, looking up at the long flight of stairs leading up to Din’s apartment. Luckily, you don’t have to wait very long before his thundering steps are heard and he comes to help you carry everything. Once on the top landing, Din gingerly places everything on the ground before pulling you in close for the greeting you deserve.

“So… I’ve been thinking…” Din starts, almost shy, “Do you think your friends might like to come over and hang out here? It won’t be a ‘girls’ night’ but there’s food and drinks and it might be fun for our friends to meet? …I mean, if you think it’s a good idea?”

Grinning at Din’s suggestion, you think outloud, “I mean, it’s not a bad idea… I’ll check with Rory and Bea, but what brought this on?”

Din answers by burying his face into your neck and nibbling on your earlobe, “Just like being with you, pretty bird.”

You relent easily, “Ok, but I’m warning you right now about playing with Rory, she’s going to take you all to the cleaner’s.”

“Good. It’s been boring being the only one who wins money,” laughs Paz, who has suddenly appeared. Giving Din a pointed look, “Hey, you know, the gentlemanly thing is to help the lady carry her bags inside,” before giving you a big bear side hug and greeting you with his new nickname for you (“Hey, Lil’ Lady.”) He picks up the food bags and heads in, passing Bo who’s on her way onto the landing to say hi. For one reason or another, you haven’t seen her since Jimmy’s fight night; after a big hug, she looks at you with seriousness, “Thank god you’re back. This one,” she jabs a thumb at Din, “was an unbearable grump while you were apart. Please never leave us again.” She takes Al’s leash from you, and leads him inside the apartment; a second later you hear a raucous cheer of “Alfredo!!” followed by Al’s happy barks.

After setting out the food you brought (caprese sandwiches, sugar dusted mascarpone-blueberry turnovers, bruschetta) and putting what needs to be warmed in the oven (garlic knots, salmon-onion dip, turkey meatball pops), you text the girls and receive an enthusiastic response to the suggested change of plans.

Sitting on Din’s lap to give him the good news, you pass around the sandwiches to the delight of the players already seated at the big card table Din set out for the occasion. You’re excited that the Mandos that are here tonight will get to meet some of your friends and you tell them so.

“Looking forward to it! And… you get to meet Poe tonight,” says Koska, with an almost apologetic look.

“Who’s Poe?” you ask, curiously looking around at the facial expressions of the Mandos, ranging from eye rolling to what can only be described as shit eating grins.

Din explains, “He’s Boba’s son.”

“And you guys… like him?”

“We have to,” quips Paz, which is met with laughter from the group, “but we also do for real. He’s just… a lot.”

Mayfeld chimes in, “He’s all about having good time; always trying to up the ante cause he’s got ‘My dad’s a big deal’ energy and always has. Used to start shit for fun when we were in school cause he knew no one could do anything to him.”

“I remember it more like he would start trouble with that smart mouth of his, then one of us would have to finish it.” Paz looks at you, “Used to be me and Din standing between him and a bloody nose, every damn time.”

Din appears to be a bit more forgiving of the past, “He’s calmed down a bit now… still has the smart mouth and a lot of energy, but blows off steam in more constructive ways… like poker instead of all night partying. Which is like the rest of us, really…”

Jimmy reaches past you to grab a sandwich, “Yeah, the rest of you old timers…”

“What was that?”, Bo cocks an eye brow at the young boxer, who smartly pretends to be incredibly invested in selecting the right sandwich.

Wrapping his arms a little more tightly around your waist, Din draws soothing circles on your thigh with his fingers, “Don’t let Paz give you the wrong impression of Poe; he’s just bitter because he was always the one who ended up getting in trouble when someone wanted to kick Poe’s ass.”

Paz huffs, “Yeah, getting in trouble for defending him when he probably should have taken a pounding; kissing someone else’s girlfriend half the time.”

“Omigod” you giggle, as Paz puts Jimmy in a loose headlock; revenge for the “old timers” comment.

Woves pipes up, “Oh yeah, he’s still a shameless flirt. Warn your friends.”

“Warn her friends?! Warn herself!” exclaims Koska.

“He’s mainly all talk though. Lisa would slit him from balls to throat if she ever caught him cheating,” Woves explains, seemingly to you.

“Caught him again, you mean,” Koska grimaces.

“Oh shoot. I forgot about that girl on the yacht.”

“I wasn’t even thinking about Fennec’s birthday party, but yeah she was pissed.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Donut shop,” chime in Bo, Mayfeld, Din and Paz in unison.

“Lisa is his girlfriend?” you ask, unsure.

“His wife. And the mother of his two beautiful kids. They’ve been together since high school. On and off, if you haven’t guessed already,” Bo looks embarrassed, even though she has no reason to.

Din hooks his chin over your shoulder and says gently, “That was in the past, though. They’ve worked through it and he’s been good.”

“Nah. I bet he just got good at not getting caught. Always assume cheating until proven otherwise, is what I say,” pontificates Mayfield.

“And that, Mayfeld, is why you’re single,” snickers Woves.

“Right, and you’re beating them off with a stick,” counters Mayfield. The group laughs, but you find yourself quiet. You know the Mandos are just joking around and that they’ve all known eachother forever, but you can’t help but bristle a little at the casual way they talk about Poe’s past (and potential?) infidelity. If the rest of the Mandos are anything like Din, you know they value loyalty and fealty, but did their sense of unwavering commitment not extend to partners? You and Din haven’t officially discussed exclusivity; you had assumed that like you, Din wasn’t seeing anyone else – but maybe that wasn’t the case.

You can feel yourself getting in your own head and before you can help yourself, an image of Din kissing someone else flashes before your eyes and your heart constricts painfully. Sliding off of Din’s lap, you excuse yourself to go check on the food in the oven; you make to busy yourself with taking out and plating the food, but you can’t help it, the heart-breaking image has taken root in your mind. You’re mad at yourself for spiraling so quickly over something created entirely by your own overactive imagination. Yes, you haven’t confirmed your relationship status with Din, but he hasn’t given you any reason to give any weight to your sudden anxiety. This stabbing pain in your chest is entirely of your own making and you feel so much embarrassment that you start to tear up a little bit, which makes it even worse.

You’re not sure how long you’re in the kitchen wallowing, but it must be a while because Din comes in looking for you, “Need any help, pretty bird?”

Turning away from him, you say quietly, “No, thank you though. I should have everything out in a minute.”

And just like that, Din knows something is wrong; he makes sure you don’t have anything in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose right behind your ear and kissing your neck lovingly, “I’m here, baby.”

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, even though he wants to know. He doesn’t ask how he can help, even though he would do anything to make it better; he just wants you to know he’s there and that you can come to him on your terms. You turn in his arms and bury your face into him, breathing in his soothing scent and instantly feeling calmer. Face smooshed into his chest, you mumble, “Dhnn, dyoothkchhhteenisohhhk?”

Din chuckles, “Sorry, pretty bird, I don’t think I caught that.”

Leaning away slightly, but not making eye contact, you re-ask your somewhat loaded question in a quiet voice, “Din, do you think cheating is ok?”

Cupping your jaw and tilting your head up to meet his concerned eyes, Din says gently, “No, no, I don’t, sweetheart. What brought this on? Is it because we were talking about Poe?”

You sigh a small sigh, “I guess so. You just seem to all be so… okay with his cheating history? At least everyone talks about it so casually. And I’m guessing you all know Lisa too… I feel so bad for her if everyone is talking about how her husband cheats like it’s so normal or something…” You collect yourself and take a deep breath, “Din, actually, no, I’m sorry. That’s being presumptuous. You’ve all been friends forever and have so much shared history… I don’t mean to assume anything about your friendships. I just… I didn’t know if the way Poe’s cheating seems to be no big deal… means that all cheating is no big deal.”

“I see,” considers Din. He knows this is a serious topic and it obviously means a lot to you, but he can’t help but find your anxious state somewhat endearing, you aren’t usually so flustered and it makes him desperately want to scoop you up in his arms and soothe away your worries. He bends down to give you a little peck on your lips before picking you up by your waist and placing you on a free space on the counter. He doesn’t want you to be able to avoid eye contact with him when he answers, “Pretty bird, I don’t blame you for getting the wrong idea. You’re right, we probably are too casual when we talk about Poe’s exploits. It’s been going on forever, and he’s kind of like… a show that we get front row seats for? Like a celebrity kind of? We love him, and he give us something to talk about, but the way he lives is not the way we live. He lives in a totally different world than the Mandos; when you’re the boss’ son, you play by different rules.”

You gaze reverently at Din as he so patiently and lovingly talks you down from your self created ledge and can’t help but let a little smile crack.

“Poe… well, you’ll see. Poe is Poe. Can’t be mad at him. And sometimes that makes it seem like the shit he pulls isn’t that bad. But, baby, for ourselves? I promise you, no Mando has ever been a cheat. It goes against everything we stand for; we don’t cheat each other, we don’t cheat the family, and we definitely don’t cheat in our relationships. And I swear to you, baby – I never have and would never cheat. Not on anyone, but definitely not you.” Leaning in to alternate soft kisses to your lips, your neck, the corners of your mouth and your nose, Din’s voice gets low and husky, “Why would I want anyone else? You’re my dream girl. You make me laugh and smile. You’re so sweet. And the smartest. You know how smart you are? I’m obsessed with everything that comes out of that mouth. I could listen to you talk about anything for hours. Days. And you’re beautiful, and kind, and you take care of me, and my friends. Just look at how much effort you put in to the food for tonight when you didn’t have to even bring anything at all. I’m so lucky. Why would I ever want anyone else?”

“Oh Din,” you whisper, marveling at Din’s talent for saying all the perfect things; you had wound yourself up inexplicably tight, but he knew exactly how to calm you and pull you out of your dark place, “How do you always know what I need to hear to feel better?”

“It’s actually very easy, sweetheart. All I need to do is tell you the truth,” murmurs Din, as he starts to deepen the kisses, “Actually, scratch that. I lied a bit, I’m just obsessed with this mouth, period. Love kissing this mouth. Love when this mouth opens up for me. How it feels pressed on my skin. The way it takes my cock…”

“Oh fuck, Din-“

“…but the thing I love the most about this mouth is the sounds it makes when you come,” Din buries his face into your neck, nipping at your sensitive spots as you cross your ankles behind his back and pull him closer.

A round of raucous laughter from the poker table pulls you out of your arousal laden haze and away from Din, both of you panting lightly. Looking in Din’s eyes and finding nothing but sincerity, you feel comfortable enough to broach the last of your overblown concerns, “Din, if you were seeing other people though, I couldn’t be mad, I guess. It’s not like we’ve had any talks about exclusivity.”

At first, Din isn’t sure if you’re being serious, the idea so absurd to him. But when he sees you start to chew your bottom lip nervously, he placates you, “Oh, pretty bird, I didn’t think we needed to have a talk about it. I’ve been exclusively yours since I met you in the coffeeshop. I was yours and only yours before I even knew your name, before I knew if I would ever see you again,” Din leans his forehead against yours and you can barely breathe from his romantic words.

When you sigh, relaxed, Din grins, “Feeling better, sweetheart?” Looking up at him, your eyes bright, you smile and nod happily. As he helps you hop down from the counter, you cheekily ask, “Don’t you want to ask if I’m seeing anyone else?”

Din stills, hands frozen where they were holding your waist not a moment ago, “Are you?”

Now you can’t help but be mischievous, “And if I were?”

Eyes darkening, Din reaches for you, “Baby, I-”

At that moment, your phone buzzes and you’re saved, “Oh! Bea and Rory are downstairs! I’m going to let them in!” You grab a plate of garlic knots and practically flounce out of the kitchen, depositing the plate at the poker table before exiting the apartment. You’re about halfway down the stairs when you hear the outside door being buzzed open, and see the smiling faces of your friends along with a the attractive face of a dark haired man you don’t recognize.

The man is chatting animatedly with Bea, his smile lighting up his whole face. He is quite handsome, you admit – soft longish curls frame his face and he’s mainly clean cut with just a hint of a shadow, giving you a clear view of his chiseled jaw. His lightly hooded eyes are bright and full of mirth, and his expression is currently so energetic he has a charming, almost boyish look about him.

You wait for the trio on the second-floor landing; Rory spots you first (“Babe!!”) and rushes up the last few steps before enveloping you in a big hug, the bags in her hands full of clinking wine bottles. You giggle and give her a big kiss on the cheek, “Is this overkill?” as you peek in her bags and find 7 bottles (2 Cabernet Sauvignons, 2 Sauvignon Blancs, 2 Beaujolais [that’s for you], and one bottle of Rosé).

Rory shrugs, “Didn’t know what everyone would like?”

“That’s why I brought tequila! Everyone hates tequila!” quips the stranger, beaming widely.

“…and tequila hates everyone,” you smile and introduce yourself while pulling Bea in for a hug.

“Poe! Poe Dameron! You must be Din’s girl. Must say, I can see what the fuss is all about,” he winks, “Guess it’s true what they say, beautiful girls only hang out with other beautiful girls.”

You’re so confused. The line is so cheesy. And you know about his flirting from the Mandos… but you’re not creeped out? Apparently you and your friends are not immune to Poe’s famous charm and earnest brown eyes and you suddenly understand what Din meant when he said you just can’t be mad at Poe.

“Dameron!” comes a shout at the top of the stairs; it’s Paz, with a look of impatience on his face. Unless you’re Paz, you chuckle to yourself.

“Sorry, Heavy P! Got distracted, I mean, even you can’t blame me,” Poe flashes his winning smile again before angling out his elbows and offering up his arms for any willing woman to take. Letting your friends have at it, you walk ahead and mouth to Paz as you get to the top, “Omigod. Heavy P?!?”

Paz rolls his eyes and shakes his head (“Lil’ Lady, don’t.”) before muttering, “I swear to god,” and holding out his hands to take the wine from Rory and the bags of food from Bea (which you now realize that Poe notably did not offer to help carry).

You enter the apartment as a comical looking group: Paz laden down with bags that he carries directly to the kitchen (scowling), you looking amused (eyes wide with a kind of astonishment at the scene that just played out), then Poe bringing up the rear, making a grand entrance with a beautiful woman on each arm, grandstanding like a debutant making her entrance at the cotillion. Al makes a beeline for Rory and Bea when he spots them, and they readily abandon Poe to greet the pup; you have to stifle a snicker when you see Poe’s look of disappointment at having been upstaged by a dog.

“Told you he’s a lot,” a voice whispers in your ear; you turn to find Din grinning at you. He gives you a little kiss on top of your head before going to greet and welcome your friends. Introductions are made and everyone gathers around the card table so that those who are playing can play, and everyone can chat, drink and eat. The Mandos are incredibly hospitable and warm towards your friends; you don’t know if it’s out of kindness to you and Din or just because they really are a friendly bunch, but it fills you with joy to see your friends so well taken care of. To no one’s surprise (not even Bea or Rory’s), Poe insists on pouring everyone a shot of the tequila he brought and plays deaf to people’s protests. Rory downs hers without complaint before going back to her cards; you wrinkle your nose in disgust at your shot and when Poe isn’t looking, Din drinks yours, and you see Mayfeld nonchalantly do the same for Bea. Poe just goes about his business, pouring himself more shots and chaotically raising bets while telling wild story after story about the people in the room (usually targeting the last person who called his hand). He’s entertaining for sure, and he's seems less interested in winning at poker than he is getting everyone to have a good time. It’s working. Poe’s energy is infectious and the tequila is effective - the party gets livelier and livelier as the evening goes on.

At a certain point, Woves and Paz nearly get into it after Poe (deliberately?) exposes his hand and everyone decides it’s a good time for a break so people can stretch and get more food. You and Bea flop down on the couch with your wine, and a few people, including Poe, come over to join you, “So, when are you going to come and meet my dad?”

“Why would she meet your dad?” Bea asks curiously.

You look at Poe, your eyes widening just a little, mouth open to interject but having no response ready. Without missing a beat, Poe says smoothly, “Oh, my dad and Din’s dad were best friends. Din’s basically family. My father’s favourite son.”

Bea laughs and you shoot Poe a grateful look, which he acknowledges only with the quickest of winks. Din comes over, catching the tail end of this exchange; he claps Poe on the back appreciatively before sitting down and throwing his arm around you, “I think I’m done for the night, pretty bird. Don’t have any more money for Rory to take.”

“Told you she’d clean you all out,” you giggle.

“I think both Bo and Paz are in love with her, too. I’m not getting in the middle of that, so I’m just going to hang out here with you for the rest of the night, if you don’t mind.”

You shake your head, “Of course not, but are you sure? I don’t want your friends to think that when I’m around, your attention is divided.”

“Oh, it’s not divided, sweetheart.” Smooth talker. But you can’t help but feel flushed at Din’s words.

“Ok, ew. Yeah, Dad is going to love you. He’s been wanting Din to settle down for forever and he deep down he loves this gooey stuff,” bemoans Poe, and the group cracks up.

When the card game looks like it’s going to start up again, Bea yawns a bit and announces she’s going to go hover over Rory to gently encourage her to cash out her winnings so they can head out soon. This reminds you that you have something for her, and you excuse yourself saying you’ll be right back.

When you emerge from the bedroom with the book you brought for Bea, you run into Din in the hallway; he’s leaning up against the wall, as if waiting for you.

“Hey you,” your smile easy and wide, reflective of how content you are with how this evening has gone.

Din moves towards you and using only his size advantage, crowds you against the wall he was just leaning against, then braces his forearm above you and peers down at you, “Hey pretty bird.”

You can’t help but let out a school girl giggle at this move.

Still holding your gaze, Din says in a low voice, “Don’t think I forgot what we were talking about in the kitchen before.”

Oh. So that’s what this little display is about; you’ve had a little time to think about it and you smile sheepishly, “Oh Din, I have to apologize for that. Like, the image of you kissing someone else only flashed across my mind for a second and it upset me so much! I shouldn’t have teased you with the same thing. I’m sorry.” You look up at Din with your most innocent, forgive-me eyes.

Din softens internally; he had been prepared to tease you mercilessly, but now looking down at you and feeling a little bad that you had been upset earlier, he’s tempted to let you off the hook. Maybe.

“Pretty bird, I’m sorry you had even a moment’s doubt and that it upset you; in case it’s not clear, I’m yours and yours only. There isn’t anyone else, baby. Couldn’t be anyone else.”

You melt under Din’s words and you want to make sure he knows how you feel too, “I feel the same way. You’re so sweet, and kind, and caring, I can’t believe you’re real sometimes. You make me so happy. There’s no one else for me but you, Din.”

“But,” Din leans in to whisper darkly in your ear, “if you were seeing other people…”

You gasp a little at the low edge to his voice. “…I would want to know who they were.” Din places a light kiss on your jaw before pulling back to move to the other side of your face and when he does, the expression you see on his face makes you shiver. “I’d want to make sure they were treating you right.” Another light kiss on your jaw. Switching back again to the other side to nuzzle just below your ear, he continues in his deep, sultry drawl, “But when it’s my time with you… I’d remind you of who you really belong to.”

Afraid of letting out a whimper, you bite down on your lower lip, eyes open wide while you take in Din’s words. “The things I would do to you would make you scream out my name until you couldn't speak, until you forget every other name but mine. And when I’m done, there wouldn’t be any doubt in that pretty head of yours that you belong to me, sweetheart.”

This time you do whimper out loud and you’re sure everyone on the other side of the wall can hear; at this, Din dips to kiss his way to your other ear and growls, “Mine.” You feel your panties dampen at his possessive words, the low timber of his voice making your knees buckle; Din catches you by wedging his thigh between your legs and you curl your arms under his to steady yourself. “Yours,” you whisper, “all yours, daddy.”

Din’s mouth is on yours in a flash, tongue gaining quick entrance as your soft moans escape without your permission. He drinks you in like a man parched, chasing your taste, unable to get enough. You match the pressing brush of his lips and the movement of his tongue, stroke for stroke; his possessive manner and almost jealous sounding tone unlocking a deep desire within you. It’s the same part of you that loves to be marked by his mouth, his hands, his cum; that part of your being that wants Din to claim you. You’re getting all the way lost in Din and the way he surrounds you when you drop the book you’re still holding for Bea and it makes a loud thud that silences the chattering voices on the other side of the wall.

“Hey, lovebirds! We can fucking hear you!” booms Paz.

“Looks like I’m not the horniest one for once!”

“Shut up, Dameron!” Din yells, but with a grin only for you, “Yeah, I’m kicking them all out now, pretty bird.”

Chuckling, you give Din a sweet kiss before picking up the book that gave you both away, “Don’t do that. We need to give Rory time to take all of Poe’s money.” Winking, you turn to blow Din a kiss before rounding the corner to a chorus of hoots and hollers.

---

Poker night has been so much fun, you’re almost sad it’s over. Everyone ate and loved the food you and the girls brought over; Mayfeld quietly apologizes for eating over 70% of the garlic knots and on behalf of everyone else who plan to politely demand that you supply the food for all future poker games. To no one’s surprise, Rory leaves the poker game the big winner, having taken nearly everyone’s money and also the hearts of both Paz and Bo. Jimmy and Brian encourage you to invite your friends to the next big fight, making sure to do so in Bea’s earshot. Woves and Koska, both wine drunk, fight over who gets to take Al out for his nighttime walk; a fight they both lose when Din steps in and declares clearly that Al’s late-night walks are spoken for. Poe, to (poorly) quote Pride and Prejudice, simpered and smirked all evening and made love to them all – you concede that the Mandos were right, he really is the life of the party.

After everyone leaves and you put your girls in a cab, you and Din set out on your nightly walk with Al. As you stroll through the neighbourhood, still bustling despite the late hour, you feel Din pull you closer into his side and you respond by hugging his waist and looking up adoringly at him, “I think Al had such a good time tonight, Din. Thank you for letting me bring him.”

“Of course. Al’s my boy. What about you, pretty bird? Did you have a good time?”

You nod truthfully, “I really did. I think everyone had such a good time and your friends were so, so nice to my friends.”

“Even Poe?”

“Especially Poe.” You both chuckle and continue the walk in comfortable silence for a bit. Deep in thought about the serious discussion the two of you had in the midst of all the fun tonight, Din wants to make sure you’re feeling okay, “How are you feeling about what we talked about? I know some of the stuff with Poe made you a bit uneasy.”

“Mmmhmm, I went to a bad head space for a bit, but you pulled me out. Thank you, Din,” you say, lightheartedly, your easy tone suggestive of having moved past it.

“I’m always here for you, pretty bird.”

“And I’m more than okay with what we talked about,” you add; it’s an innocent enough response, but now you’re thinking about how hot your conversation in the hallway was. Recalling Din’s dark expression as he talked about making you his has you squirming and you feel the warmth of your arousal start to seep through your panties. When you finally make it to the sidewalk outside of the gym, you decide to broach the topic again.

“Din?”

“Yes, baby?”

You consider how to ask for what you want, “When we get home, do you think you can.. I want you to… do what you said in the hallway?”

Din tilts his head slightly to convey he’s not sure what you mean.

Suddenly shy, the words spill out in a hurry, “I want you act like I’m seeing other people, and then I want you to fuck me hard until I forget that anyone exists but you.”

Realization hits Din like a freight train and he’s overcome by his need to have you right now, “Is that what you want, pretty bird? You want me to make you scream my name so many times you don’t need to know any one else’s?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip, “Fuck me and claim me, daddy.”

“Holy fu-, I can do that. But tonight, I’m not your daddy. You only call me by my name. Got it, pretty bird?”

Wordlessly, you nod again.

“Good girl. Now get upstairs.”

Go to: Ch. 11 Addendum - After The Poker Game

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