#EVEN DURING THE DRIVE HE'S HAVING SECOND THOUGHTS

[memorabxlia]

All I Want for Christmas Is You ━ 홍중

genre: fluff (just a tad), smut summary: after getting stranded in your car during a winter storm with Hongjoong, you find other means to pass the time warnings: est relationship, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), car sex (defintely forgot something) pairing: nonidol!hongjoong x fem!reader wc: 1.9k a/n: DAY 4!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The wind howled outside, slamming against the windows of your car like a wild animal trying to break in. Snowflakes swirled in chaotic spirals, obscuring the road ahead and coating everything in a thick blanket of white. You tugged your coat tighter around you, but it was no use—the cold had already seeped into your bones. The heater sputtered weakly, barely holding its own against the storm.

“Hongjoong,” you murmured, your teeth chattering as you glanced at him in the driver’s seat. His hands were still gripping the wheel, even though the car hadn’t moved in what felt like hours. “How long do you think we’re going to be stuck here?”

He exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the frigid air. “I don’t know. The tow truck said they’d come as soon as they could, but…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the windshield. “This isn’t exactly ideal weather for rescuing stranded idiots.”

You snorted despite yourself. “Speak for yourself. You’re the one who thought driving through this was a good idea.”

Hongjoong shot you a look, his dark brows knitting together in mock offense. “Oh, so now it’s my fault? Remind me again who begged to stop for ‘just one more coffee’ before we left?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the grin tugging at his lips stopped you. Even in the middle of a snowstorm, half-frozen and completely stranded, he had a way of making you forget everything else. Your fiancé’s sharp features were softened by the dim glow of the dashboard lights, his black hair tousled from running his fingers through it in frustration. His leather jacket clung to his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but notice how the faint sheen of sweat on his skin caught the light.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling warmer than you had a moment ago. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m partially to blame.”

“Partially?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. His voice dropped, low and teasing. “Try fully.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing now. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the tension thickening like the snow piling up outside. You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re such a brat, you know that?”

His smirk widened, and before you could react, he caught your hand in his. His touch was warm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “And yet, here you are. Stuck with me.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world outside faded away, leaving only the sound of your breathing and the faint thrum of the engine. Hongjoong’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, and you felt a familiar heat stir deep within you. It wasn’t just the cold making you shiver anymore.

“You’re staring,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm.

“So are you,” he countered, his thumb tracing slow circles on your palm. His touch was maddening, deliberate and unhurried, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “What are you thinking about?”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “That maybe… we should find a way to pass the time.”

“Oh?” His eyes darkened, and his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly. “And what did you have in mind?”

You didn’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, you leaned in, closing the gap between you until your lips were just a breath apart. Hongjoong’s sharp intake of air was the only warning you got before he closed the distance, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

It was all fire and need, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your head spin. One of his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the other found your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh through the fabric of your jeans. You gasped into his mouth, your hands flying to his chest to steady yourself, but that only seemed to spur him on. He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, “Tell me what you want,” before reclaiming your lips with a fierceness that left you breathless.

Your mind raced, torn between the rational part of you that knew this was madness and the part that didn’t care. The storm raged on outside, but inside the car, the only thing that mattered was the way Hongjoong’s body pressed against yours, the way his touch set your skin ablaze.

“God, Hongjoong,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. “I want—”

Before you could finish, he cut you off with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. His hands moved lower, slipping under the hem of your sweater to explore the bare skin underneath. The contrast between his warm palms and the icy air sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched into his touch with a soft moan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not when his lips were trailing kisses along your jaw, not when his hands were roaming your body with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. Instead, you let your actions speak for you, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt until your hands met the hard planes of his chest. His skin was hot beneath your fingertips, and you couldn’t resist leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Hongjoong groaned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you into his lap. The steering wheel dug into your back, but you barely noticed—not when his erection was pressing insistently against your thigh, not when his lips were skimming over the curve of your ear.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice rough with desire. “That’s all for you.”

You whimpered, grinding against him instinctively. The friction was delicious, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. “Joong—”

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your pants. “Tell me you want this.”

You nodded frantically, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled your jeans down just far enough to expose your wetness to the cold air. “Yes, yes, please—”

“Good girl,” he purred, his fingers slipping between your folds to tease you with maddening precision. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, as he added, “Now let me hear you.”

You arched into him, desperate for more friction, more heat, more of him. The car windows were fogged up from your ragged breaths, the world outside forgotten as the storm raged on. All that mattered was the way his fingers curled inside you, stroking just right to make your hips jerk uncontrollably.

“Joong—” you gasped, clutching at his arm. “I can’t—please—”

“Can’t what?” he taunted, his voice low and rough. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously, and you moaned at the sensation. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you open for him as he worked you relentlessly. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You whined, your head falling back against the seat as pleasure coiled tight in your core. “I need you,” you begged, your voice trembling. “I need you inside me, Joong—please.”

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Since you asked so nicely…” He withdrew his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss, and shifted in the cramped space of the car. His hands fumbled with his belt buckle, the sound of it unbuckling sending a jolt of anticipation through you.

When he finally pushed down his jeans, freeing his hard length, you couldn’t help but reach for him. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking lightly, and he hissed through clenched teeth. “Fuck, you’re impatient,” he muttered, though the way his hips bucked into your touch betrayed his own desperation.

You smirked up at him, even as your pulse raced. “You like it.”

He growled, catching your wrist and pinning it above your head. “Careful,” he warned, his tone playful but edged with hunger. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly spoiled for space here. Thought you might appreciate me taking my time.”

You bit your lip, squirming under his hold. “Take your time later,” you urged, dragging your free hand down his chest. “Right now, I just need you.”

Hongjoong groaned, releasing your wrist to brace himself against the car seat. He positioned himself between your legs, his tip brushing against your slick entrance, and you shivered at the contact. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with concern despite the tension thick in the air.

You nodded, lifting your hips to meet his. “Yes,” you breathed. “I’m sure.”

With a low growl, he sank into you in one slow, torturous thrust. The stretch was exquisite, filling you completely, and you gasped out his name as he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust. His forehead rested against yours, his breathing ragged as he fought to keep control.

“You feel so fucking good,” he rasped, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “Always so perfect for me.”

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. The pace was steady at first, each stroke deep and deliberate, but it didn’t take long for his restraint to fracture. His thrusts grew faster, harder, the sound of skin against skin mixing with the howling wind outside. The car rocked slightly with the force of them, but neither of you cared.

Every nerve in your body was alight, every touch, every kiss, every word from his lips driving you closer to the edge. His mouth found yours again, kissing you hungrily as he fucked you with relentless intensity. You could feel the coil inside you tightening, winding tighter and tighter until—

“Joong, I’m close,” you panted, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. “Please—don’t stop—”

He chuckled darkly, slowing his pace just enough to drive you mad. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me how much you want to come.”

You let out a frustrated whine, your hips jerking up to chase his. “Please, Joong, I need it—want to come for you—need you to make me—”

“Good girl,” he praised, his hand slipping between your bodies to circle your clit. His touch was electric, and combined with the way he filled you, it was too much. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out his name.

Hongjoong swore under his breath, his own release hitting him hard. He buried himself deep inside you, his movements growing erratic as he followed you over the edge. For a moment, everything was quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths and the faint creak of the car settling.

He collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the seat, but you didn’t mind. His lips brushed against your neck, trailing lazy kisses as he murmured, “Told you we’d find a way to pass the time.”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “You were right,” you admitted, though your smile faded as you glanced out the fogged-up window. The storm showed no signs of letting up, and the thought of someone finding you both like this sent a rush of embarrassment through you. “What if—?”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupted, his tone reassuring. “We’ll hear them coming.” He kissed you again, slow and sweet, before adding with a mischievous grin, “Besides, I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath caught at the promise in his words, and before you could respond, his hands were already moving again, exploring, teasing. “Joong—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips tracing the curve of your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

❥﹒ ateez taglist: @casemoa143 @minkilicious @lice

[overnightheartbeats]

"That is true, I'm definitely feeling the age more these days. Oh okay, show-off," he grumbled, though the smile on his lips would've betrayed him. "I suppose not, but it is idiotic to jump into the most complicated case ever. Not to mention, I'm keeping this on the low. I don't want to tell anyone about this in case we have some eager ears at the CIA too." It was one of the first thoughts to cross his mind, had Karina or her people infiltrated his agency too.

Hearing Eli call him by his name, he knew that he had to sit quietly and just listen to his brother. He leaned his head back into the driver's seat, the car hadn't even been started. This was no longer a conversation to have on the drive home, so he remained parked behind the bowling alley. "Yeah, that might be the case." And, as he spoke, he thought back to their meeting earlier, beginning to think out loud. "I suppose, yes. His way of showing fear was to tackle the hell out of me, then yeah, fair enough." Isaac sighed in agreement, because that definitely was not in question. Although, he had not heard about her before this case, one thing was clear. Karina Hurst-Pollard was a formidable woman, and with access to the agency's resources, definitely not someone to underestimate. "That she does. At least as far as I've seen. I haven't finished my research yet." It did take twice as long to investigate when he was covering his track from his own peers and any other curious eyes.

He raised an eyebrow when Eli emphasized understanding his frustrated feeling. Yep, that's what he was feeling. He was irritated and his short temper didn't help. After that meeting, it just felt like this was more trouble than it was worth. Risking himself, possibly his family, for someone who didn't want help. "I hate it when you're right. Yeah, I am frustrated but dealing with frustrating people is the second bullet point of this job. It's mostly just, yeah. He annoyed me, more than I have been annoyed in ages. The thought of passing this on to someone tempted me."

Thinking of hie niece made him smile. He rarely missed her nighttime routine, or any time with her at all. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time in ages that he was out for a longer mission. "I miss that munchkin. If I can get some time, I'll call during the day so I can say hi to her. I'm sure Laurel would, she sees a new street and she's fascinated. I'll think about it, but it might not be safe. Best to stay home. True that, should've lied and said I was FBI too. Could've taken your old badge." Not that his badge would've gotten him far.

"I knew you'd get me one way or another," he admitted. "Well no, obviously I wouldn't want her to see my file. No, I'm not..okay maybe slight judgement. I just wanted to make sure the file didn't read another way. You had once told me I wasn't paranoid enough. I was just being extra careful this time around. Mines would look pretty bad." If that had made it in. He got lucky that his brother and his partner were able to keep most of it off the record.

"Neither would I, it's becoming more widespread too. His family being affected is concerning." He nodded slowly, even though Eli couldn't see him. Isaac also didn't feel comfortable leaving Wally in this situation, no matter how much he irritated him. "You're sure? You guys would look into this?" A stupid question knowing they definitely would. "No, I agree. It doesn't sit right with me that his niece might be in danger. Yep, same here. Made me think of Rosebud and my girl. Yes, that works for me. I'll send her everything as soon as I get back to the hotel. Don't really know if I'll get much sleep. My personal phone is always on for you guys. "

He shrugged and smiled. "Yours is for sure eighty five. At least mine can still carry eighty pounds of gear up and down a ladder." Eli laughed and couldn't help but agree. "We're almost there. One kid at a time."

"No. You're the agent with heart. Don't knock yourself like that. Helping someone in need isn't idiotic. It takes courage. Not many people would do that without wanting something in return."

Eli could tell isa wasn't hearing him or not wanting to. "Isa," he started. "People close up when they're scared to the point of straddling terrified. Just because he showed off a side you didn't like doesn't mean he wouldn't be terrified. From what you showed me, this woman isn't to be fucked with. She knows how to play the game. Has been playing it a long time. Corruption runs deep. Most people hide behind the tough exterior because they don't want to seem weak to feel helpless. Even agents."

He sighed and shook his head. "That's why you're there. It's a mess right now but it won't always be. I get being frustrated with him. Trust me I do but all I'm hearing here is that you got annoyed so you don't want to help him. Not because its hard but because you're annoyed. He pressed your buttons."

"This is the first night you haven't been around for night routine with Rosebud so she knows you're at work. I don't know how much she will let that go so just know we're covering for you. But, hey. Louisiana is a new scenery from Texas. Laurel would love that." He laughed and thought that was to be expected. "Not surprised. CIA and FBI have beef. You've dealt with worse names being called."

"A file doesn't mean anything. If it did then I think you'd not be having the life you lead at the moment. Imagine if Nettie had gone on just your file alone. Wouldn't you want her to look through your file and see the type of man you are. Also, Isa. Are you really going to judge his file when yours reads off worse? You would be labeled a traitor to your country just by fucking a mafia princess."

"It is ultimately your choice but I wouldn't feel good leaving an innocent out like that. No matter how much of an expert he may be in his field." Hearing a child was in the cross fires he couldn't help but think of his own daughter. "Send Lau the address for the Bordeauxs' and we will see what we can find out and confirm whether or not this kid is in danger. You know, I can't let this one go like that. Not when we have Rosebud and your daughter. If she finds anything helpful we will send it back to you. Make sure you have your personal phone on so we can send it encrypted."

[beeceit]

"If you don't portray Bruce as an abusive parent then you actually don't read comics and are willfully ignorant and an apologizer and-"

dude, I just don't like it when the guy who was probably on my baby clothes hits his kids and I don't think that's really an extreme opinion to have

[dandyshucks]

need Guz to hug me tightly for like an hour solid oh my god dhdjdkl I went driving for the first time in over a year and I chewed my lip raw 😭😭

I'm starting to look like a caricature of Anxiety with all these physical symptoms and signs LMAO

[screampied]

#OOHMAMI! g. suguru

☆ sum. cuban link, diamond cross—you’re a big fan of suguru geto, the top street racer in tokyo. he doesn’t wanna win any more races, he wants to win you this time. keep at it and he might have to fuck you on the highway.

wc. 5.7k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, suguru has a (dick) piercing / tats, semi-public, riding, brief ōral (f! receiving), you get eaten out his window lol, overstim, dirty talk, praise, size kink, impact play, petnames, drive safe, continuation here :)

an. chase atlantic inspired me ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

“you, yeah you. wanna ride?”

stop thinking dirty, stop thinking dir—

you stop dead in your tracks, hearing the deafening vrooming of a certain nissan skyline gtr along with a raspy deep voice. you knew that voice, in fact you’d be a fool not to recognize the voice of the suguru geto, infamous street racer who’s won more races around the world than you could count. he’s got a big hand on the steering wheel with his dark purple helmet cracked open. growing pathetically sheepish, you could barely get any words out before you start to feel your feet gradually dragging toward his rumbling car.

“really?” you mumble, barely even pressed up against his tinted window and you could smell his loud rich cologne from there. you couldn’t help but fangirl—and oh, did he look so much better in person. geto’s got pretty long tresses of black hair that’s usually down, but in every race it’s always pinned back. a few loose strands run down his face, peeking out of his helmet and his glove grips tightly against his bedazzled steering wheel that had ‘s. geto’ carved into the material as it flawlessly spiraled around the wheel.

“reaaally,” he tauntingly repeats your word, cocking his head to get a better look at you. you could smell the thick puffed smoke that weeps out of his silvery flashy tailpipes and he hums. slouching back against his seat manspread, his foot eases off from the break and you watch as the flashy racer’s seat flies open on its on, and you step in. “i take it you’re here to see the race?”

no, no you weren’t.

you couldn’t lie to yourself—you were here to see the race, but you were to here to see geto also. you’ve only seen him during his interviews, magazines, and sometimes on tv where his races would be broadcasted for the entire world to see.

but, you managed to snag enough money to actually see him in the flesh.

without a second thought you make your way inside. on the inside, you were screaming. you were currently living every one of his fangirl’s dream. immediately once you sit down, you’re surrounded by the balmy welcoming warmth of his beloved str. you assumed it was an older model but he made it work anyway — it had cushioned seats with blaring speakers and oh, the smell . . it’s almost as if the vehicle had a signature cologne scent of its self. it’s really masculine and it makes your thighs squeeze together once you recline back a bit. his seats warmed up your backside automatically and you glance around the rest of the car, taking in its glitzy beauty.

it’s pretty, you’ve only seen pictures. ogling near his rear view mirror, you see fuzzy dice dangling as he’s adjusting it. the rest of the cars usually gathered near the meet up spot before the race actually starts.

“she’s pretty, isn’t she?” geto snickers, noticing you gawking at the inside of his car.

indeed, you heard about how geto built this entire thing from scratch. before doing street racing as a little side hustling hobby, he used to be a mechanic. a well known one, but that wasn’t as fun as actually racing.

geto tosses an arm behind the head rest of your seat, preparing to go in reverse. “had her for about two years. haven’t lose a match, since.”

“not one?” you murmur, wanting to call his bluff. sure, you’ve never seen anyone covering him losing a match but that was a bit hard to believe.

“doubtin’ me, sweetheart?” he rasps, and you feel the rough jittering of the car. geto’s backing up safely, curving his wheel briefly to drive out of one of his many garages.

sweetheart, you don’t know why but that single pet name had you feeling hot for a moment. once your eyes dart back toward him for a split second, you spot a toothpick sticking out from the corner of his crooked lips. he’s so pretty — he’s got a natural smirk that’s tugging against the corners of his lips. as he starts to drive toward the starting point for the highly anticipated race, a gloved thumb taps against his furry steering glimmering wheel. with a low hum, he glances at you. “seatbelt, silly girl.”

shit, you snap on your seat belt moments later and notice even his signature’s all over his seatbelt covers. ‘suguru geto’ in bright bold letters.

drafty air wafts against your skin as he’s still creating distance with just a few miles. once he reaches near the starting line, you hear his foot tapping against the break.

one, two, three . . three, two, one . . he’s bored.

geto positions his rear view mirror for the millionth time before noticing you zeroing your eyes at his gear shift that glistens from the dozens of rhinestones that glue against the cover. countless diamonds stick up and down the leather skin of the handle and it’s so pretty.

“hold on, sweetheart,” geto purrs, his eyes slowly locking onto the flagger that’s stood in front of the row of cars.

geto’s still got a firm hand gripped onto his wheel, his right foot just barely hovering over the gas. come on, he just wanted to get it over with. you could almost smell the competitiveness dripping from his body.

it was intense, you could almost feel the anticipation as if you were in the driver’s seat. the tall woman that’s dressed in nothing but sheer black carries a hefty checked flag, swaying it in the air every few seconds. as she safely spaces herself between the cars, she does it two more times and you realize it’s almost time for take off.

the cars that were lined up beside and next to geto start to rev their engines and so does he. it’s a roaring groan, and his rousing wheels burn into the hardened cement, his gold pipes coughing up clouds of purple smoke. geto gives his wheel one more tap with his thumb before glancing at you with a cunning grin. “lie back, i take off pretty fast, heh.”

and he wasn’t kidding.

the moment the flagger does a final up-down sway motion with the flag, all race cars accelerate quickly past the starting point. you sink back into the plushy seat as he meanly yanks back his stick shift.

his engine’s loud, and within seconds he’s already in the lead. it’s like he wasn’t even trying. frantic turbo spits through his rusted pipes and you can feel his car speedily pass through each poor vehicle that tries to get in his way.

vroooooom, he’s flying by each checkpoint and you could almost smell the adrenaline that’s coursing through his pulsating veins.

the thrill . .

you felt it all ghost through your own veins, feeling the frigid air roaming through his vents tickle against the hairs that stand up on your arms. geto makes a few sharp turns, keeping an eye on the time every so often. his personal best was around five minutes and seventy-seven seconds. with a coarse grip, he’s tilting his steering wheel while the thunder of his engine growls louder and louder within each whizzing mile.

over time though—you can’t help but be a bit nosy. your eyes shift toward the racer and god, you’re just now noticing how handsome he was.

geto usually wore sweats along with his street gear. he didn’t have to wear his helmet but he preferred it just in case. its all black with a splash of purple—you can see his signature lazily signed near the very top. outlined beside his name was a curling design of smoke. the part where he sees through was all darkly tinted so you could hardly see his face unless you squinted or he took it off.

it’s like it added more to his appeal in a way. he sat manspread and doing so, it gave you a one way ticket to stare straight down at his barely hidden bulge.

fuck, your mind started to ponder. you had so many unanswered questions. isn’t it painful driving around that hard—

“hey,” your raunchy thoughts get rudely interrupted and you don’t even realize how many minutes had passed from you being cooped up in your own lewd fantasm. geto’s driving a bit slower now, around sixty mph instead of his usual two hundred. he’s way in the lead, first place. one hand’s lazily on the steering wheel and he fakes a yawn.

oh he’s cocky.

with a quick glance out his mirror, he knew the other cars were far behind him and he now starts drifting near the freeway. with an intrigued hum, he notices just exactly what you were staring at. his lap. “don’t tell me this was the ride you thought i meant, sweetheart.”

“i—”

it’s like his cologne got louder.

you choked on your words, wondering if you were hearing right. suguru, the suguru geto was flirting with you?

and the thing that got you the most was that he wasn’t even looking at you anymore—every few seconds, you’d lock eyes against him near the ear view mirror, feeling hot once his eyes slowly rove down your figure through his dark tinted helmet.

not only was his cologne loud but so were your thoughts—shamelessly, you did think he was referring to that kind of ride minutes earlier.

and the more you stared at his hardened bulge through his grey sweats, the more you started to think. .

but, little did you know your dirty wish would be granted.

not even a few moment later, you’d find yourself fucked - literally.

geto positions you on his lap, halfway pulling down his loose sweats just so you could ride something else entirely.

instead of riding just his car — you rode his dick, and fuck was he just ridiculously big.

too big, and he knows it. geto groans once he’s buried full inside, lodging his thick cock in between your slimy gummy walls. “shit,” he’d hiss, his head occasionally tossing back once the ring piercing that’s stuck on his tip tap tap tap’s away against your precious g-spot. it swirls all around the inside of your cunt and your thighs struggled to stay open. it tickles, but you were far from laughing. he’s so big, easily rearranging your insides and be barely even had to move a muscle.

he’s ruthless - but your hips were even more ruthless though, far more.

geto knew all too well that this was dangerous—just one swerve from the swerving stimulation of bodies smacking against his and game fucking over.

you moan, burying your face into his neck as your hips continue to move against him. he’s still burning gas as your cunt’s just merrily drooling all down his length from each slapping thrust.

belatedly, your brows furrow, almost forgetting why you even showed up to this event. well, part of why you came. “f- fuck, what about t- the race?” you speak in a breathy tone, your tempo becoming more and more relentless. the salaciously enticing jerk of your unsteady hips gradually turn into rough unstable bounces and he kisses his teeth. geto feels the convulsing veins that run down his cock pulse right through him and between your walls, you feel it too.

“oh, sweetheart,” he huffs, his back of his helmet hitting against his headrest. looking at you with hazy hooded eyes, he flashes you a sleazy grin. “technically, i already won,” and you gasp, feeling him reach a gloved hand down between your rickety thighs. his touch was so gentle, you felt yourself shuddering from both twin digits that drag further down your chest. he cups one of your bouncing tits that pop out of your tank top, brushing a thumb against your sensitive nipple. “god, what a pretty fuckin’ body. look at you girl,” and he’s still got a hand on the steering wheel.

a trembling whimper dies out your throat at the feeling of his swollen fat cockhead vigorously thrusting in and out of your dribbling entrance.

you’re just so soaked. it’s like you can’t help but be sopping wet on his lap and he loves it. sloshes of sobs echo out of your pussy and your legs pathetically quaver directly on top of him.

both of you groan in complete unison and a big hand of his creeps further down, giving your ass a teasing squeeze. “fuuucck, reel those nasty hips. ride it baby, ride me, yeah,” and you hear the grumbling revs of his engine ring against your ears louder. it makes the entire car shake a bit despite him pushing down a few miles. with widened dewy eyes staring at the back of his car, you squint, seeing dozens of cars trying to catch up to geto.

they didn’t have a chance,

they looked like tiny splotching dots in the far distance. geto even had the audacity to not do his usual speed and yet he was still dusting the other racers.

typical.

“s- suguru,” you whine, the undersides of your thighs sticking against him. each time you bounced back on his cock, each ruthless ‘pap pap pap’ of your skin mashing against his and the clingy recoil never fails to leave you brain dead for a few seconds. he’s so thick. you swivel your hips around him, gasping every time his dick piercing scrapes against your clit. the cold material makes a good portion of your thighs quake and you can’t help but coo out a few sweet ‘ooh’ or ‘ah’s right next to the shell of his ear. your panties were lazily shoved to the side and he didn’t even bother taking them off.

yet.

“so fuckin’ big, shiiiit.” you’d whimper, trying to swerve your way all around him. he’s just too big, you were even surprised he fit. you had to go down slow, aligning yourself against him — every few seconds his cock would pop out of you, making that cute squelch sound that makes his suck his teeth in annoyance.

“mhm, ‘n you’re takin’ it so well. you’re a big girl, fuckin’ take it,” he rasps in a hushed tone, nipping a few teeth near the inside of your neck. his helmet along with his toothpick ends up falling near the side of his seat with a loud thud.

your hips were killer.

unlike any opponent he’s had to go up against. you’re happily squeezing around him like a vice, taking in his curved inches like a champ. “f- fuck, who taught you how ‘ta ride? heh, tryna give me a run for my money, hm pretty?”

your whiny moans only pitch louder once he grips a nice chunk of your ass with one hand, peering at his bedazzled dash. the speed was a bit over one fifty now but it didn’t even feel like it.

“ugh, ‘m gonna cum,” you gasp, growing more and more dumb the faster you bounced on his heavy throbbing cock. his peeling sack hangs from underneath and he’s so swollen, you feel it.

maddened angry balls entirely reddened and puffed up from the delicious stimulation. with every sharp pull of your hips bouncing up and down, he feels himself shriveling — he’s so sensitive inside of you, and he can almost taste his own pleasure. whilst you continue to twirl your ass around in rotation for him, you couldn’t help but shamelessly salivate at the thought of imagining just how full he might be.

“sugu—fuuuckk,” and a bead of sweat races down the side of your face. geto’s primarily focusing on the road, it’s an easy straight shot and with how it was practically the middle of the night it wasn’t that many cars except for the one’s participating in the annual street races.

“bet you are. sloppy girl,” he huffs, groaning at the echoing loud smacks of your ass. you’re mercilessly clamping down his lap over and over, preparing to gush all over the dick that’s currently nestled inside of you. he’s got such a mouth watering curve of his cock that makes your stomach twist and churn.

the kind of curve that doesn’t involve his motor vehicle, that kind.

geto’s dick knew how to do swerves on its own, it even knew how to carve an entire bumpy race track allllll through your insides with his fat pink tip. “touch yourself, pretty. gimme a show before you mess up my fuckin’ seats.”

you could hear the sass in his voice along with a drip of vex and you’d giggle if you weren’t being ruthless stuffed full of inches. “o- okay,” you breathe through clenched teeth, guiding your hands up and down your body. geto’s dark eyes stare at you intently.

he stared at the way your hands caress your pretty plump tits, feeling down the valley of your exposed chest. his eyes flicker toward you then back at the road, then at you again - he repeats it, feeling his own muscles starting to tighten through his clothing. “ngh, suguru. can’t hold—”

your addictive slams against his cock got more intense until he’s fully buried balls deep inside of your squeezing cunt. you hear the saturated plops that’s squealing out of your pussy and you can’t even believe that’s you that’s sounding like that.

your poor sweet cunt was louder than his radio, completely shrieking over some random chorus of a heavy metal song you didn’t even know was playing in the background.

“fuck, cum then. cum on me, girl,” he grunts, one hand grabbing a nice fat piece of your ass again before spanking it.

you moan, the sharp brief twinge of elation sending you a shiver that immediately sends convulses between your thighs. lewd filthy thoughts foil at your brain and pretty soon, the car steams up with steamy clouded fog.

erratic sharp breaths match each other’s pace and you’re left breathless. geto feels your legs on the verge of giving out and he snickers, bringing a gloved hand to stroke against your sopping pussy. “go on, don’t be shy. should make ya lick up the mess later anyway.”

whimpering, your release comes and fuck, a sharp scream ripples out from your throat once you’re finally coming undone on his cock. the wrinkled skin of his base continues to stick against his sack due to you bouncing against him.

it’s hot, literally.

with both plush mounds of skin harshly plummeting on top of each other, the heat of the car made it feel like the air conditioner wasn’t even on. “thaaat’s it, work those hips, goddamn,” and abruptly, he cuts off from his words after feeling his mushroom tip reach a certain spongey spot that’s buried way inside of your gripping walls.

you gasp once you feel him throb inside with a soft upward shimmy of his hips. milliseconds later, your thighs collapse down on him and you feel yourself succumbing. you’re creaming down his shaft with your slippery slick while at the very same time, struggling to catch your breath. as you weakly try to continue your grinding with your feeble knees, geto uses a single hand to quickly make a detour.

he was close.

the race car makes a swift turn to the left lane, driving a few more miles before he then turns the opposite direction — pulling over safely. with a cooing skrrrrt, his rubber tires come to a cruising stop and geto groans, gripping at his tensing bouncing thigh with his glove. the finish line was just a few feet away but he could care less.

once he puts his car in park, geto falls back into his seat with own sable dark eyes flickering back to the very depths of his skull.

you rode him good, good to the point where he doesn’t even know what to say for a hot second. blinking twice, geto smears his glossed lips together before exhaling, “phew,” and he swats another palm against your ass. black unkempt strands of hair tape against the center of forehead like glue whilst he’s finally got a good grip on your hips. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum too,” and your puffy folds continue to dribble with honeyed slick.

you’re damping his cock and the squelches you make, they were loud.

so wet and slimy. he could listen to it all day, just the sound of your sweet cunt whimpering out sweet sloshes of nothing. the overwhelming sensitivity leaves a sourly candied taste in your mouth and you whine, feeling him squeeze a hand against your right hip. with a raspy out of breath tone, he strokes a thumb underneath your quivering bottom lip. “ ‘s okay if i cum inside, pretty?”

“y- yeah, please,” you babble out in broken cries, feeling your tummy frantically heave in and out.

as he grabs your hips, steadying you—you intake a breath, remembering how many inches he was buried inside. your tummy tucks inward and you whimper, feeling him preparing to shoot pure blanks. with a size like his, geto’s cock never failed to leave its sloppy infamous mark.

you’re just marveled at how fat his tip is, it’s voluntarily french-kissing up against sweet beloved cervix that’s screaming out curses just as much as you. he’s got two hands on your veering hips, smooth fabric of his racing gloves sliding up and down your wobbly. with pouty compressed lips, you moan, bringing your hands to grab onto his shoulders. “cum, cum in me—fuck.”

geto huskily groans, tossing his head back once your hips zealously reel into him right as he gives you the final perfunctory thrust that finishes him off. immediately, he’s shooting out ribbons of hot cum that pour into you. you’re panting as he slows down, glossy eyes raking at his body. you could see a bit of his tatted sleeves peek from underneath his shirt - his tense muscles bulging.

“god, better take all of it,” he groans, pretty black lashes sticking against his droopy hooded sockets.

it spurts out slowly but surely.

globs and globs of frothy cum bubble down the swollen sides of his cock and you feel it all. it’s toasty and warm and as he’s pouring his all into you, painting your gummy walls his pristine-white color, you couldn’t help but lean in.

geto’s matching your breathy irregular pants before he feels your trembling lips crash onto his. “mmf,” he moans against your lips, tilting his head back slightly to a certain attractive degree. a hand of his reaches toward his radio, turning the middle notch all the way down just to hear the squelches of his own seed slobbering down your slick cunt.

he tastes sweet. you moan at the lingering taste of fresh cooling mint that lives on his tongue, feeling his hands tighten around your waist.

oh, he’s obsessed—

screw the race by this point, all he wanted at this moment was you.

geto’s still got such a large load that’s dumping into you raw and it even oozes down past your thighs, a few creamy droplets plopping down on his velvet seats. he grunts, both twisting tongues ferociously tangling against each other whilst your pussy’s still squeezing down on him like a vice. a glossed translucent ring forms around his base and he feels you trying to touch yourself with two curious fingers.

with a slight smack, he swats your hand away and you whine in his mouth. “heh, hands to yourself,” you pout because earlier he let you touch yourself but now, no. he teases, breaking away from the hot kiss. a stringy cobweb of saliva tears back from both lax plump lips before he playfully nibbles on your chin. geto notices how slumped out you were and a broad open hand of his crawls between your legs. “ooooh,” and he lifts you up from his swollen flaccid cock, gazing at just how much of a fill he’s pumped into you. “well look at that,” and you whimper, feeling him strum a thumb down your drooling cunt. “would be a shame if it all went to waste,” then he quirks a brow, sliding a tongue across his lips. “princess, stick your head out the window for me real quick.”

“out the wind—”

and not even seconds later, you find yourself literally being bent over, halfway hanging out of his rolled down tinted window. geto wasn’t done, at least not yet.

your sheeny glossed lips immediately part into an ‘o’ as a sweet gasp leaves your lips. with clammy hands, they grip onto the edge of his window and you whimper once he delves his long tongue inside of your cunt. your fingers gripped against the window so hard that it ends up leaving dozens of your cute fingerprints against the tinted glass.

“oh my goddd,” you babble out in elongated sweet syllables. with your pretty eyes bulging, you gasp at feeling the tip of his tongue swirl all around inside of you.

geto lowly grunts, lapping his twitching pink muscle down your runny folds back and forth. between your legs—he’s a menace, and it was no prying him off.

at all.

he doesn’t even bat an eye at the simple fact that he’s eating his own cum out of you, unapologetically savoring the bittersweet taste that lands right on his flavored tastebuds. your legs were so weak and you can feel his warm breath continuously fan against and on your sopping folds as he chuckles.

“my my, look at her. this prize’s way better than some money,” he hums, using a leather thumbed glove to swipe down your entrance. he’s slow, dragging it all the way down just to watch spurts of your slick pop onto his digit. you’re just so wet, metallic fingers of his ghost further down your clit before you whine. geto sees your cunt pulsing from the sheer thrill and he snickers, smacking a palm right against your slobbering core. “she’s fuckin’ nasty today, yeah?” and his eyes flicker toward your drooling cunt, giving it a teasing suck. “mmph, listen to her with me, gorgeous,” and one spank against your pussy turns into one, then two, then three.

growing quiet, you listen to the weeping sounds purring out of your own cunt. so loud, so shamelessly loud. you could hear it and he barely even had to touch you. you’re drenching up his seats and you couldn’t help but bite your lip, feeling your heart pound ruthlessly out your chest. his tongue knew just where to go—it’s creating a path of its own, laying flat against your clit before sucking against every tender spot. your legs were on its final hinges. you felt like they were about to snap shut. you’re staring out the window, still not seeing any cars which was good.

if anyone saw you like this, being eaten out in this kind of position, you don’t know what would happen.

geto resumes to flick his long tongue down your swollen slit, lapping up the last few droplets of his own cum that tries to dribble down the crevices of your thighs. another final swat from his mean palm sets against your clit and you let off a cute squeal, your tummy instinctively caving in. “so much back talk from a pussy this fuckin’ sloppy. oughta teach it some manners, pretty girl,” he grumbles, and your eyes blissfully roll back once you hear him starting to sluuuurp.

geto had no shame — it was decided, this was far better than any race he’s ever had.

his teeth nip near the inside corners of your thighs before he trails back to munching on your clit, burying his nose deep. “mhm,” he groans, and it only takes a few seconds before his jaw finally locks. geto reaches down, giving his cock a few solid pumps. his pretty reddened tip was angry, it still had dried spurts of cum racing from the sides and he grunts at the memory of being inside of you only just a few minutes ago. whilst his face’s shoved right between your thighs—you don’t even realize you’re trying to reach back to grab onto his hair. you’re hesitant though, and he finds it cute. departing his wet slick lips briefly, a wry grin spreads against his lips. “kinky,” the dark haired man flicks a tongue across his lips, savoring your juices that smeared against his mouth. “don’t be shy. do it,” and you moan once he teasingly whistles against your pussy, kissing against your nub. “pull my hair girl. pull.”

you give it a good yank and his head pushes forward into you—geto’s lengthy tongue dips further inside your cunt and you whimper, gnawing the inside of your stiff jaw. “fuck,” you gasp, and as his tongue gradually curls various bubbly letters inside of your pussy.

it multitasks, continuing to send your entire body a plethora of fluttering butterflies. he was so sloppy, seeping from the corners of his mouth with your slick and just your slick. his head moving side to side eagerly and every few seconds, he’s got to flick away long shaggy strands of his hair. geto’s proudly devouring you entirely whilst you’re just literally hanging out his window.

“oh, come on. harder, sweetheart. even i can do better than tha—ngh.”

with more force, you tug roughly on his pretty black strands and you heard the most sluttiest moan pour from his lips. god, he was so close that you could literally feel that infamous smug grin spread against his lips. geto brings a fat round thumb to run down your drooling cunt, giving it a ‘good job’ kiss. “atta girl. that’s my girl.”

geto ends up coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of over and over and over again.

he’s mean with his tongue, slurping everything out of you until you had no more - nothing more to coal his chin with. his favorite thing to do was to playfully bite against your clit, feeling you writhe and shiver all because of his mouth.

you end up leaving his entire chin with a pretty stream of your syrupy slick. geto’s panting, falling back after talking you through your nth orgasm, and with a peek through his rear view mirror, he spots the remaining race cars that were finally approaching the finish line.

“ah, about time,” geto rolls his eyes, sliding his lips near the corner of his chin where a bit more of your slick laid.

he acted like it was nothing, like he didn’t just have his tongue shoved inches deep inside of your cunt, stuffing his race gloved fingers in and out of you until you gushed right down his lengthy thick digits. you’re just sat on his lap, and you’re too dumb to move an inch. “heh, comfy?” he purrs, dragging his seatbelt across both stacked bodies. you fall against his chest, inhaling his signature manly scent and feel the car jolt once he puts it back in drive.

needy silence was your only reply and he tsks, resting his chin on top of your head before driving toward the finish line. it was barely even a few feet away, and waiting there was a bunch of fans that were awaiting to greet their new winner.

geto couldn’t care less though—he had you on his lap and he could already feel himself bulging again.

he found it cute how you were just clinging onto him now.

maybe you were delusional—maybe it was the fangirl in you screaming, begging for more, but your body wasn’t just begging anymore, it ached for more.

he drives you back toward the car meet up spot, helping you fix back your skirt. with wobbly legs, you step out of the flaunting vehicle with the help of his burly arms wrapped around you. “t- thank you,” you pant, trying to catch your breath, even still. geto stands up tall and he completely towers over you. you feel so small all of a sudden, watching as he puts his helmet back on.

“anything for a fan,” he coos, and he brushes a thumb against your lips. just a single gesture just as that felt so intimate. your eyes lock with his for a long moment, and just before you could say anything more, he mumbles. “oh, you probably want an autograph?”

your eyes light up and you grow sheepish, awkwardly tugging on the vip-checked lanyard that wraps around your throat. “yeah, please.”

“such manners like a good girl, cute,” and you bring out a magazine with his face plastered on it as a headline for this week’s up and coming races in tokyo. “nah,” he waves it away, and as your brow quirks, he takes out a sharpie. geto slides the cap in between his teeth before he glances at you. “pull your shirt down real quick, sweetheart,” and without a second thought, you tug down the hem of your shirt, barely exposing your chest.

geto’s eyes rove down your skin before he swiftly signs right against your left tit. the ink softly runs against your skin and you gasp, watching as he marks up the upper part of your chest. “aaaand, perfect,” he concludes, adding a ‘xo’ at the end of his signature. geto puts the cap back on and he flashes you a sly expression. “so i’ll see you at the next race?”

he starts walking away before you could even reply and you feel the weight of your shaky legs grow heavy. “y.. yeah,” and with dewy eyes, you watch as he steps in his car, playfully revving his engine at you.

the cool air sets against your skin once more as you stood there with shaky legs. the car meet slowly gets more crowded as the rest of the racers pass the finish line.

but, your brows furrow once you realize you felt a bit . . . empty between your legs.

with a soft gasp, you squint near the inside of geto’s car before he pulls off.

hanging over his rear view mirror instead of the fuzzy dice you once saw—was nothing other than your panties,

his real prize.

[affableramen]

I don’t think I made it to 6k words but you get what you get, I guess

⟢

The wine was as sour and repulsive as the moonlight seemed to him. It was a full moon tonight, which he hated for a reason and was completely reasonable to do it. The wine was not to his taste and speaking frankly he had never been much a fan of wine, but to uphold the status of the wealthiest man in the planet he could not simply indulge in vodka or other ‘primitive’ drinks, as he considered them so. Perhaps the whiskey’d make a better choice however he knew he’d end up with heavy hangover the next morning after.

The full moon shone so brightly through his big window it was almost an offence. The banker was not never a fan of vivid lighting and preferred dimly lit offices and obscenely dark surroundings. He just finished writing his last report for tonight when he heard a knock into his door. Strange, he thought, everyone except for him had already left the office at 10 p.m. This is how things have been and should always be.

He ignored the knock and appeared strictly focused into his late paperwork, the moon casting light upon his dark eye bags. Those circles nowadays had become a part of his regular image and was a subject of gossips addressing the Northland Bank CEO in serious need of a day off. Yet he was no such person. He didn’t sleep, didn’t eat much, drank lots of coffees and buried himself deep in his work. All for the purpose, for the dream that had been occupying his mind for hundreds of years even after he got a second life gifted by Tsaritsa herself. His hatred and abhorrence had become nothing but a fuel to his end goal which he held strongly to his heart. And although he’d always deem himself a rational man who had no bias, he was if one, if not the most biased Harbinger of them all.

As the knock was rudely ignored no one was bothered about it for the rest of the evening.

When Pantalone finished his drink and his papers were neatly folded, he turned the key in the drawer lock and stood up from the desk. He looked nothing but charming with his blue-black locks, if not the dark lines on his face bringing up signs of the man who was not by all means a young lad anymore.

As he had consumed alcohol that evening it would be an offence for him to drive so his loyal butler (who had also been his chauffeur) was waiting outside. Pantalone entered the car smoothly and he did not have to say his order as the butler immediately took him back home.

His mansion was a synonym to gothic decorum, however it was also obscenely lavish as if he were compensating his inability to give away certain genuine emotions with big sizes of his house. The other Harbingers put his house as a subject of jokes during formal meeting and there was not a single day Pantalone wouldn’t receive a regular pang of irritation being subjected to such jokes. As someone who had been heavily destitute he wanted to have it all and always be sure that he didn’t have a need in anything. And he most obviously didn’t lack anything, that wealthiest banker. Except for one thing, however.

The moonlight was still as vivid as ever and when Pantalone entered his house something seemed off. He felt colder than ever, as if Tsaritsa’ magic suddenly faded and he was again a regular human being, vulnerable and mortal. The cold felt so real he for a moment became petrified, which was an offence to a Harbinger of his rank.

“Make a fire. Why is it so damn cold in my own house when I need a little bit of warmth?” He barked at his staff, and they immediately rushed to the vast fireplace.

He headed upstairs to his bedroom and only then he noticed a thick layer of some sort of magic smoke coming out from it. When he looked around he realised that the smoke was not coming out of his bedroom, but wrapped around the whole mansion entirely. Pantalone did not know what to do. First he did not possess a Vision and his weary condition after overtime was definitely not the perfect match for Delusion usage. Second, he never faced such kind of magic, although it did remind him of something very faintly. Something he was honestly deeply afraid of.

Pantalone pushed the door to his bedroom, and froze upon seeing the balcony door opened, transparent curtains floating to the sides discerning the shape of the creature who succeeded in breaking into his supposedly protected mansion.

No matter how tired and unprepared he was, Pantalone that instant grasped his Delusion tightly on his waist.

“You dare intrude into my palace?” His Delusion glistened with electro particles as his facial features were grim and strained.

The ‘creature’ was a woman wearing long white robes and a precious diadem on her head. She was like the twin of the moon: her skin glowed with almost silver, and her silky dress looked as if it was made by divine tailors. Pieces of noctilucuos jade were not only encrusted in her diadem but her jewellery too.

That woman, of course, was you.

Upon sensing his blunt hostility you only turned to face him but never moved from your place.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me after all these years.”

“You…” Pantalone let out a devilish smirk, something edging between dangerous sadism and subtle vulnerability. As if he found himself cornered, he only spoke through teeth, shaking with fury: “You destroyed me, my life and everything I believed in.” He took a step closer to you, and the contrast between your images became as radiant as possible: his black and purple clothes stood proud and dark against your white, glowing Celestial look.

“I know there was once Pantalone who loved me, and I believe that there is still a part of you that’s soft for me.”

“Fat chance”, he approached you closer and began almost circling you - a familiar signature habit of him when he was studying someone intricately. “You were my biggest enemy. Everything I fought against… you were a part of it all the way. What is not clear in my words? I told you to stay away from me the moment I learned who you are. Me and you, we don’t have anything in common and I hate you, hate you to the bone.”

This was the look in his eyes that you knew very well. Not the subtle hate he bore every day while going about his Fatui business. It was the open hate to everything ever connected to the Gods. He did not just hate them, he despised them, utterly and ridiculously abhorred.

You took a step closer to him and placed your pale hand on his pale cheek. The movement caused Pantalone to flinch yet he did not waver nor backed away. His gaze immediately shifted to the side, his eyes never wanting to interact with yours.

“I was thinking about us. I know that you are still there, inside this… well-conserved body, and you can still hear me.” You dropped your hand to his neck, collarbone and then rested it on his shoulder. “I know that a part of you who dreamed together with me about our possible future never ceased to exist. And despite knowing who I am, your heart,” you placed your hand on his chest, that was heaving violently, “still beats faster because of my presence.”

And when your touch enveloped him, even though with such lightness and subtlety, it was as if his eyes suddenly returned to those of the person who used to love you. They became bright with colour, - deep azure shade of amethyst that would always stare at you infatuated, and the lock of his hair inflicted to the curse and Delusion use suddenly grew healthy with his natural blue-black colour. But it was all only for a moment, before he stepped back from you, breaking the closeness abruptly, and his appearance shifting to that morphed by curse.

“I won’t let you enchant me again. I am the Ninth Harbinger now, and I am more years old than you can count”, Pantalone made another step back and turned away from you completely. “I don’t know how you entered this house,” he sighed, “and I shall of course punish those who let you in”, he continued, his tone still playing with the mix of sadistic pleasure and irritation caused by vulnerability, “but me and you won’t ever become a thing again.”

“Because you what? Prefer a company of whores?”

Pantalone felt a pang of guilt in his chest, but in fact it was just his means to an end.

“Don’t speak of my private life so lightly. You know nothing of it. And yes, I prefer a company of a paid lady.”

A sudden appearance of a butler on the staircase made you two cease your dialogue, but Pantalone lifted his hand and dismissed the old man soon.

“This is only between me and you”, at last he turned to see you but it was only a side eye look. “Yes, I do fuck whores, because they don’t ask my emotions back and only need cash. I am not obligated to give them anything else except for money, while I get a stress relief back. It’s easier for me this way, but consider I never told you that.”

Pantalone pointed the most impolitely at the door.

“You shall leave now and pretend we never had that conversation. I’m sure you will find better than a feeble old man, conserved well by his Archon.”

You didn’t want to press or push, yet this man in front of you seemed to avoid one most important fact and he was unconscionable about it.

“I loved you when you were a beggar. I still love you when you are a rich man. Why can’t you accept that I am a Celestial being?”

“Because I despise the mere mention of Celestia; your face is what makes me detest you even more.”

“I only pretended a regular human for you. I risked my life too, every day, playing a mere woman with you. But after all, I never left you. You just pushed me back.”

“And now, after three hundred years you suddenly decided to appear. What for, I wonder? How are you going to use me this time?”

“I never used you. Your mind grew so twisted that you see enemies in each person talking to you. You need help, you’re almost unrecognisable.”

“Oh, truly? Well, you look like someone I trusted, and became miserable because of it. You are my biggest regret, one which I wish to never have indulged.”

***

The surrounding in the living room thanks to the lit fireplace were much bearable than in his lavish bedroom designed to his extraordinary taste, and the fact that it served the purpose of receiving the most inappropriate kind of guests only doubled its insufferability.

His staff quickly prepared a tea for the two of you. While holding his cup Pantalone was subtly fidgeting and the gears were obviously shifting in his head but he spoke nothing for the entire hour just looking at you now and then.

At last, you were the one to speak while he refused to even lift a finger in your presence.

“How are you these days?”

Pantalone learned to be good, if not perfect, at concealing his emotions yet his charms and shallow manipulations never worked on you, as if you were immune to it. Tired of going back and forth he finally uttered:

“My plan is a success. Soon, I will meet the Traveler and gain even more support. That is, if he will be willing.” He takes a sip of his tea. You suddenly realised that now you were his rough enemy and soon he would be to fight against you.

Or, maybe not after all?…

“I always believed in you, but I also told you that you chose a very difficult path. One that in time will be less likely redeemable.”

Pantalone’s face went sour immediately, he shut his eyes and clasped his hands.

“I never needed one. The losses I had to suffer and sacrifice the Fatui had made were not for nothing. People died for a greater purpose, and if my plan works out, they will all understand how money can be controlled in the hands of a mortal.”

You stared at him with awe and admiration, your gaze much softening upon seeing the fire in his eyes as he explained you his ambition.

“It’s interesting though how you can be so calm spending time with me. Won’t you get punished or something?”

“No one has to know, besides I am a complete separate creature and I do not owe anyone my constant presence on floating kingdom of Celestia.”

Pantalone nodded. “Do you like my tea?”

“Quaint and sweet.”

“Huh? Just the reaction I expected.”

After a few long moments the two of you settled on the sofa, Pantalone immediately grasping your hand in his with the look that almost had no disgust in it. Almost.

“How long can you stay?”

You responded plainly, but to you (and to him) it meant everything.

“As long as you need me to. I am not obligated to constantly stay in Celestia.”

“Truly you’d do that for me? After learning that I spent time with someone else, and after hearing all those degrading words coming out of my mouth?”

Looking at his pale amethyst eyes directly you placed your hand on top of his.

“Yes. Misunderstandings and even such deep wounds can take time to heal, but they should not serve purpose of separating people who were destined to one ano-“ as you said that Pantalone immediately grabbed you by your cheeks cutting your words and started devouring your mouth first with unspoken fervour that had a potential to grow into something more gentle. And so it did, as his arms wrapped around your body to push you onto the sofa, and to only lay over you, he kept kissing every accessible inch of you.

By the time you two stopped it was already a sleeping time. The two of you settled on the sofa, not minding the slight discomfort and not even thinking of moving to the bedroom any soon, fearing to break the precious, almost domestic moment.

“Stay with me. This is all I ask.”

Running your finger over his lip as if shouting him you whispered while pulling your fingers into his gloves, where slowly decaying, cursed skin took place.

“Only if you don’t kick me out this time.”

“I won’t.” He gasped feeling you touch his rotting hand and realising you did not hesitate even seeing something horrific.

And so he let you touch wherever you wanted, even the areas that grew explicitly bad-looking due to his age of almost four hundred.

“Do you promise, Pantalone?”

“I, Pantalone, the Ninth Harbinger, Regrator, promise you to never let you go again.”

hii i love your fanfics so so much. i’ve been reading them non-stop ever since finding your account. if you have any thoughts regarding this idea, could you please write about pantalone or pierro with a reader whom they loved very dearly(whether during panatalone’s life during poverty or young pierro’s life in khaenriah), who they later found out was a god from celestia(possibly primordial one disguised as a mere person) and one of the reasons for their misery? their motivations of joining or creating the fatui centered around the betrayal and love-hate for the reader

Will 6K words suffice?

[golden-ebony]

Ten's a Crowd ·ᴥ·✿˖°

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 2.4k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: SMUT! MINORS DNI, p-v, oral fem!receiving, a tad of overstimulation,

♡ Summary: As Robo said: Logan would turn your plushies around before fucking you raw btw, he told me himself—pulls em off to the side with a gruff little “You don’t wanna see this next part bub” before turning you every way BUT loose.

♡ Note: @robo-writing MADE A POST THAT MADE ME BOTH SCREAM CHUCKLE AND INSPIRED TO CREATE THIS PIECE. robo is also one of my favs so check them out too!

You wanted to take it slow with Logan. Even if every bone in your body wanted to jump his, you actually liked him and didn’t want to do anything you believed could sabotage your budding relationship. This was a mutual yet unspoken understanding between the two of you. 

He had every intention of taking things slow with you–make his intentions clear. Having met you while you bartended at his favorite spot, you had seen him pick up and take a few girls home. You were different, and he wanted to make that clear. 

Still, every time Logan dropped you off at your apartment, it became more charged. After your first date, he simply dropped you off. After your second and third date, it ended in short yet sensual kisses. The tension was building the entirety of your fourth date. When Logan had you pressed against your apartment building door, your moans were smothered by the passionate open mouth kisses. And by god, you wanted to give in, but mother nature had other plans for you. Despite either of your wishes, you called it a night.

Your fifth date was at a drive in-movie. You brought the blankets that were laid out in the bed of Logan’s truck. The both of you admittedly got a handsy during the movie, practically missing the end of the movie.

As Logan parked in the front of your building, he carried the folded blankets that you brought to your building door. Before he could offer to bring the blankets up for you, you muttered the four words he had been waiting to hear for almost a month.

“You wanna come up?”

Logan couldn't help but perk up at that question. Your voice was as sweet as honey, and the soft glow of the porch light framed your face perfectly. He tried to keep a straight face, but the corner of his lips tugged into a small smile when you invited him up.

"Course," he said, his voice rough and low as he tried to contain the lewd thoughts that started flooding his brain. 

As you brought him up the elevator, the tension between the two of you was thicker than the blankets he carried. You needed him–need him bad. 

As soon as you entered the apartment, you told Logan that he could put the blankets on the couch. He haphazardly tossed them on the cushions but didn’t take his eyes off you. The intensity in his eyes was betraying the restraint he was trying to maintain for weeks. 

Barely a beat afterward, you were all over each other. The kiss was sloppy, your tongue immediately submitting to his. Logan’s hand roamed slightly under your sweater, fingers pressing against the warmth of your skin. 

Stumbling backward toward your bedroom, Logan kept his lips on your, drinking in the taste that he desperately wanted–hell, needed. As he laid you down, he didn't break the kiss, slowly trailing his hand up your thigh. His lips found their way to your neck, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about this all night, darlin’,” he growled against your neck as he hovered over you. His grip on your thigh tightened, earning a gasp from your lips. “Just like that, baby, I need to hear ya.”

Logan’s other hand hiked up farther near your head until his hand began crushing something soft, something smaller than a pillow. Still focused on marking the skin over your pulse, he moved his hand again just to squish another item, almost losing his grip on the bed. 

With a hint of frustration, Logan’s eyes glared open. His stare was immediately met with glossy, black buttoned eyes of a brown cow and the cheery eyes and blushing face of…maybe a dumpling, he thought.

He paused his lips’ freezing against your skin. Logan pulled away slightly to get a better look at what was under his hand. He chuckled, his voice gravelly as he looked down at the squished yet irate octopus.

You sighed due to the loss of contact, swiveling to see what had caught Logan’s attention over the woman he was making out with. He had a mixed expression of confusion and amusement. 

“You find my plushies entertaining?” you softly giggled, propping yourself up by your elbows.

“I just…” Logan’s voice was gruff with a smirk as he sized up the 6–no, 8–plushies eyeing him down. The cow, dumpling, octopus, platypus, jellyfish, hot sauce bottle, bumblebee, and mushroom propped against your pillows all had their eyes on Logan, silently judging him. “I just didn’t expect an audience. Your little posse is a bit intimidating,” he teased, looking down at you with a cheeky grin.

“Didn’t think you were one to falter under pressure,” you chuckled. From your back, you turned to look at your plushies. You gave him a tantalizing look as you grabbed the angry octopus from his hand, shaking it in his face. “They’re just here to be cute.”

“Yeah, they’re cute.” Logan’s attention was diverted back to your exposed abdomen from your slightly lifted sweater. A deep growl emitted from his chest as he lifted your sweater further to reveal your plum colored bra. His large hand cupped your right breast as a wry smile grew on his lips. “But what I’m planning on doing with you…it’s far from cute, sweetheart.”

Logan was quick to remove your sweater, throwing it toward the  mushroom, causing it to fall off the bed entirely. He dipped back down to your lips with a renewed passion. Dropping the octopus on your nightstand, you were quick to tug at Logan’s t-shirt, practically begging to lose it.

Ripping it off, you could feel your arousal pool at the sight of his broad, hairy chest and sculpted form. Over your head, he tossed his shirt. It landed over the eyes of the soft platypus, but you didn’t notice. You were too enveloped in the hot kisses Logan was lying between the valley of breasts down to the waist of your leggings. His rough hands massaged your breasts until they popped out of their constraints. 

Ragged short moans fell from your lips as he grazed and twerked your hardened nipples. Your hands raked over his larger hands before moving to his taunt shoulders, nails scraping his shoulder blades. Logan grunted as he felt your nails rake across his shoulders, his darkened eyes locking on you, hungry and filled with lust.

“Love the pretty moans you make for me, baby,” Logan groaned, his hands moving to the sides of your leggings to wiggle you out of them. Taking your panties with them, you were exposed to Logan. The glisten and scent of your arousal was too tempting.

Feeling his warm breath against your aching cunt, you inched forward, desperate for any form of contact, “Please, Logan. I need to feel you…”

Without another word, Logan applied a heavy striped lick against your cunt all the way to your pulsing clit. A stuttered moan escaped your lips as Logan buried his face into your cunt, wrapping his arms around your soft thighs to pull you closer and keep you legs opened wide.

“Hm, so fuckin’ sweet. All for me, sweetheart?” he muttered against your cunt, the vibrations causing a shiver to run up your spine. You almost missed what he said as tongue lap and darted into your sopping core at a speed that had to be sinful. 

You could barely get the words out. Your mind was reeling with such intense pleasure that Logan could only grab your attention again by nipping on your inner thigh. You quickly winced 

“You gotta speak up, darlin’. I gotta hear you,”

“All for you, Lo-Logan! Because of you!” Despite your volume, your voice came off small and pathetic as your need for Logan grew.

Rewarding you, Logan pressed a harsh kiss against your clit, sending shockwaves through you. Your hips tried to buck but were secured firmly by the strength of Logan. He was practically making out with your cunt, his nose adding just enough pressure to your clit to run you like a facet.

“So goddamn pretty, so perfect,” he softly breathed against you, darkened eyes temporarily meeting your lust-blown ones like man possessed. Your head tilted back in ecstasy, his stare too intense.

Your finger interlocked with your comforter and his hair. The grip Logan had to keep around your thighs only grew harsher as you thrashed around him. It was a vicious cycle. Your elevated moans drove Logan to delve deeper which only made your thrashing worse and your moans more boisterous. Logan knew you’d learn better once you woke up with the bruised prints in the morning. You knew you’d cherish them. 

From your tightened grip on his hair and the sheets, Logan knew you were near your edge. His name was spilling out of your lips as if it was the only word you knew now. Coming up for air didn’t matter; Logan was prepared to drown in your soaked core.

Your climax was almost violent, your legs quiver as you released. Logan lapped it up like a dying dog, the taste of you making him moan. He couldn’t help but rut against the edge of your bed as he licked you clean through your high. The friction was welcomed but not enough.

Your body relaxed as you tried taking in deep breaths to regain a semblance of control. Before releasing your thighs, Logan affixed one last bold brush to your ruined cunt for good measure. Your cheeks were flushed as you looked down at him again. His eyes locked with yours, dark and intense. His eyes seemed almost feral, his need for you evident. He needed more–more of you, all of you.

Logan slowly kissed a path up your body, pausing momentarily to admire the indented prints he had left on your hips. He relished the taste of your skin, his lips leaving a trail of light kisses along your thighs, hips, your stomach, your chest. Your body was still quivering 

Finally, his face, still damp with your arousal, was mere inches away from yours, a smug smile on his lips. He gave you a moment to catch your breath before he spoke, his voice a low, rough whisper.

“You okay, darlin’?”

You huffed into a small smile. It floored you how he’d asked, knowing damn well he could still feel your toes curling and your leg involuntarily shaking. It floored you further how badly you still wanted him.

Kissing the corners of your mouth, darting your tongue to gather the remainder of your arousal from his face, you hand grazed his growing bulge. You received a strained grunt from Logan.

“Why do you still have these on?” The sound of your rough and sultry voice, your question–it only made the strain in his jeans worse.

Standing and exposing his full physique, he was quick to remove his jeans and briefs.  Your eyes went wide as the sight of his thick, engorged cock, the tip already leaking down a vein. 

Logan chuckled lowly at the sight of your reaction. Seeing your widened eyes and parted lips, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“So goddamn greedy, baby. Didn’t get enough already?” he mocked, laying down to cage you under the weight of his body again.

In response, you pulled him closer, your lips attached to his neck. Your tongue smoothed over every nip. Logan growled, his cock finding some relief from the friction against your hip.

Logan's eyes softened as he was again face-to-face again with the soulful eyes of your cow, slightly tilted on its side. Its fallen comrades were on the floor, preemptively averting their own innocent eyes.

He spoke gruffly, under his breath, “Uh, yeah, you don’t wanna see this next part, bub.” He picked up the cow and spun it around, leaning it against the headboard.

Your plushies didn’t see it, and you could barely handle it. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes as Logan continued to roughly push into you climax after climax after climax. From your back to your stomach to your side, your body was completely coated with sweat and pleasure. Hearing you moan, beg, and whimper only drove Logan to push you further and further till the only word you could conjure was his name.

“It’s not too much, sweetheart, yeah?” Logan’s warm breath groaned against the back of your neck, raising the hairs on it. His bulky arm hooked around to belly, trapping your pelvis against his. He had slowed his tempo in comparison to the previous two rounds, but he hadn’t been this deep. With his leg The tip of his cock was pressing faint kisses against your cervix. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he could witness your face contort in continued pleasure. “You can take it, baby. Taking me so fuckin’ good all night.”

Your voice was gravelly–surely going to be gone in the morning–as your exhausted eyes peered toward Logan, “I-I can’t, Lo-gan…not again.” 

“C’mon, just one more for me, baby. Fuckin’ sinful how good you feel,” he murmured against your flushed cheek. 

You nodded as you watched Logan hand move down to your overstimulated clit. The slightest pressure was enough to make your soft walls abruptly clench around his cock with a lusty ring. Rolling your hips against his, Logan was close to losing it. A growl escaped Logan’s chest as he picked up his pace–a stuttered pace. 

“That’s it, baby. Let it happen. Drench my cock.”

“Fuck, Logan!” You cried, your entire low body trembling against his. Your own arousal dripped down to your thigh, dampening your blanket.

Logan pressed your arched back closer to his hairy chest. With one final thrust, he was incoherently grunting before staining your walls with his seed. Filled with his warmth, you felt your body completely relax–finally. 

Logan's breathing was ragged against your neck. The only things that filled the room were your and Logan’s shared pants and the scent of your mixed arousals. He held you like that for a few moments, his heart pounding against your back. Logan was now having second thoughts about ravishing so rashly for your first time.

“Too much?” Logan asked, his voice tired and laced with concern as his hand softly massaged your side.

You wrapped your hand behind you to caress Logan’s cheek. A weak smile formed on your lips, “No, no…it was…” You couldn’t find the words. Your brain was foggy with gratification. Instead, you reached for your irate octopus on your nightstand. Quickly inverting the plushie, the octopus now had a gleeful expression. 

Handing it to Logan, he gruffly chuckled, accepting your response. He planted a chaste kiss on your cheek with a satisfied smile. It was just the beginning for you two–or the ten of you.

♡ note: i love hearing y'all's thoughts

[mephisto-reporting]

Princess Treatment - LADS HCs

Premise: You spoil him rotten, giving him the true princess treatment whenever he least expects it. Based on this request. Pairing: reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. This is pure fluff and I wrote these as headcanons on how the MC would spoil the lads men.

XAVIER

Tying His Shoelaces: Xavier, perpetually lost in thought or too sleepy to notice, never realizes his shoelaces have come undone. You’ve taken it upon yourself to stop him mid-step, kneeling down without hesitation to tie them up for him. "Y-you don’t have to do that,” he murmurs, his ears tinged red as other hunters in the UNICORNS squad snicker or raise eyebrows. Despite his protests, he secretly loves the care and attention you give him. Sometimes, he’ll glance down at his laces before heading out, secretly hoping you’ll stop him again.

The Crumb Crisis: You’ve come to notice that Xavier is always getting crumbs on his face—whether it’s from a snack he didn’t realize he’d left out or a meal he’s rushed through. You’ve made it a habit to carry a handkerchief with you, and whenever you see those crumbs stuck to his cheek, you gently take the cloth and wipe them off. He’s always caught off guard, sometimes even stammering, "I'm fine, really!" but the quiet appreciation in his eyes is unmistakable.

Homecooked Comfort: After grueling missions, Xavier is too drained to do much beyond collapsing on his couch. And given his well-documented kitchen disasters—he once managed to burn soup—you’ve made it a point to spoil him with hearty, homecooked meals. From comforting stews to his favorite snacks, you make sure he’s well-fed and taken care of. The first time you did it, his sleepy eyes widened in surprise. “You… made this for me?” “Of course. You deserve it.” He savors every bite, and though he’s not great with words, the way he quietly finishes everything on his plate is thanks enough.

Fuck the machines: Claw machines are Xavier’s mortal enemy. You’ve watched him struggle time and again, his focus no match for the slippery claws, even when he uses his Evol. So, you’ve taken over as his claw machine champion. "Which one do you want this time?” you ask, cracking your knuckles as he hesitates before shyly pointing to a particularly adorable plush. You win it with ease, handing it to him with a triumphant grin. “For you, Your Highness.” He laughs softly, his rare smile lighting up his face. “You’re too good at this.”

Bedhead Boy: Xavier’s perpetually messy bedhead is endearing, but sometimes it’s just too much for you to resist smoothing down. With a quiet hum, you gently comb your fingers through his hair, fixing it without a second thought. “Hey…” he starts to protest, but he always lets you finish, his ears pink as you pat his head affectionately.

ZAYNE

Door Dash: Zayne’s disdain for hospital canteen food is no secret, and you’ve made it your mission to ensure he eats something wholesome during his grueling shifts. You send him meals carefully packed in insulated containers, often including his favorite dishes. Occasionally, you’ll slip in a small dessert, knowing his secret sweet tooth. He doesn’t say much when he gets them, but you’ve caught a glimpse of the faint smirk he wears when he opens the package. “You know I can survive on vending machine snacks, right?” he’d quip over the phone later, but the fact he finishes every bite says otherwise.

Sticky notes: Zayne isn’t the type to expect grand gestures, so you leave small, thoughtful surprises instead. A note tucked into his hospital coat pocket with a cheeky, “Don’t overwork yourself. I still need my heart surgeon around.” Or a sticky note on his dashboard that reads, “Drive safe, handsome.” Once, he found one in his mail that simply said, “Stop glaring at everyone, I know you’re secretly nice.” He pretends to be unfazed, rolling his eyes or muttering something sarcastic like, “Am I being stalked?” but he keeps every single one in a drawer at home.

Spoil me, rotten: Zayne’s wardrobe is filled with impeccably tailored long coats, a staple of his polished appearance. You’ve taken to buying him accessories like elegant brooches, leather gloves, or even scarves that perfectly complement his collection. He always protests when you present them, narrowing his eyes and saying, “You do know I can buy these myself, right?” But the next time you see him, he’s wearing the latest item with an almost imperceptible look of pride. You tease him about it, and he deadpans, “It’s just practical. Don’t overthink it.”

Doctor's Day Out: Knowing how chaotic Zayne’s schedule as a top surgeon can be, you take charge of planning the weekends so he doesn’t have to lift a finger. Whether it’s booking a cozy dinner reservation, arranging a quiet getaway, or even planning an at-home movie night, you ensure everything is set. “All you need to do is show up and look stunning,” you joke, and he raises an eyebrow. “Well, I’m halfway there already,” he retorts dryly, but the way he leans back and relaxes during those weekends tells you he’s more grateful than he lets on.

Massage therapist: Zayne’s hands are his lifeline, and after long, intricate surgeries, they’re often sore and strained. You’ve made it a habit to take his hands in yours and gently massage them, working out the tension in his fingers and wrists. He pretends to be indifferent at first but notices that your skills have improved. After all, you’d put in the effort to learn different techniques to aid him and his skilled hands. “I hope you’re not charging me for this.” He jokes. But as your thumbs press into the tight knots, his usual stoic demeanor falters. The sharp lines of stress around his eyes soften, and his shoulders, once hunched from exhaustion, slowly unwind.

RAFAYEL

After you: It’s no secret Rafayel enjoys being the center of your attention, and you’re more than happy to oblige. Wherever you are—be it a café, an art gallery, or even your own home—you always make it a point to open the door for him. Without fail, he pauses, waiting for you to complete the gesture. It’s not that he can’t do it himself, but he loves seeing that soft, proud smile on your face when you hold the door just for him. Of course, he’d never outright admit it. Instead, he’ll quip something bratty, like, “Took you long enough, Cutie” but the faint curve of his lips tells you he secretly adores it.

Color Splash: Rafayel’s world revolves around his art, and you’ve made it your mission to fuel his creativity. Whether it’s hunting down rare pigments, finding unconventional materials to create new textures, or gifting him innovative tools, you never miss an opportunity to surprise him. When he first discovers your thoughtful additions to his collection, he’s practically radiant, eyes gleaming with inspiration as he eagerly experiments. Of course, he’ll nonchalantly mutter, “I could’ve found this myself, you know,” but his excitement is undeniable, and you know you’ve made his day.

Cheater, Cheater: You pride yourself on your competitive streak, but when it comes to Kitty Cards with Rafayel, you can’t help but let him bend the rules. He catches on every time, glancing at you with a knowing smirk as he casually switches out cards while you pretend not to notice. He knows exactly what you’re doing but plays along with a sly grin. Winning always means he gets to name his prize, and without fail, it’s more time with you. “Your competitive streak is slipping, cutie,” he teases, already pulling you closer. “Guess you’ll just have to pay for it with another evening by my side.”

Passenger Princess: Whether it’s the car or your motorbike, Rafayel is always the passenger princess with you. He’s perfectly content letting you take the wheel, whether it’s navigating through traffic or cruising down open roads. He’ll sit back, casually tossing a playful comment your way, his relaxed demeanor making it clear he has no interest in taking control. But even more than that, he loves the attention you give him. He’ll rest his hand on your shoulder or his head against the seat, basking in the comfort of being close to you. It’s his way of enjoying the ride—and you—without the fuss.

Creative Clean up: Rafayel’s studio is a whirlwind of creativity, but it’s also a constant mess. Brushes, paints, papers, clothes—everything’s scattered around like a storm wrecked his living space. Coffee cups would double as pen holders, and brushes would be left lying around like they were an afterthought. But no matter how chaotic it became, you never complained. You’d roll up your sleeves and clean up every single time you visited him. He’d give you a cheeky grin, the same one he wore whenever he was being a brat, and say, “You know you don’t have to do this, right? I like my space just the way it is.” But he never stopped you, and in the moments when he didn’t look, his eyes would soften, and a hint of appreciation would slip through his normally playful mask. He knew you cared for him in a way that no one else did.

SYLUS

Product Placement: Sylus was used to getting what he wanted, whether it was luxury items or rare finds. He had his preferences, and he wasn’t one to settle for less. But when you made it your mission to keep his favorite, expensive brands stocked in your home—whether it was gourmet food, skincare products, or niche equipment—it didn’t go unnoticed. The first time you did this, Sylus had been caught off guard. He’d teased you, of course. “I don’t need you to be my personal store, kitten. I’ve got everything I need.” But when he came over and found everything perfectly laid out just the way he liked it, the teasing turned into a more meaningful smile. He would let you spoil him just enough to acknowledge your effort, but never enough to let you feel like you were getting the upper hand. That was the Sylus way.

Rare Rhythms:  Sylus’ love for rare records was well-known, and so was the fact that he had an extensive collection of limited-edition vinyl. But you didn’t mind diving into the world of obscure, indie artists just to get him something new for his collection. It wasn’t easy, though. It took long hours of scouring flea markets, searching online auction houses, and talking to music enthusiasts who knew more than a thing or two about underground talent. It was often a challenge, but for you, it was worth every second. Sylus didn’t say much, but you could tell by the way he listened to every single one of them, that he was genuinely impressed. "They’ve got potential," he'd said, before you knew it, that same artist was suspiciously rising in popularity, and you’d smile every time Sylus mentioned them. “You really know how to find a diamond in the rough, don’t you, sweetie?”

Spoiled Stubborn: Sylus was always the one taking the lead, always the one orchestrating the grand gestures. Spoiling him? Not so easy. He didn’t make it easy for anyone to do that. He would never outright refuse, but it was clear that when you tried, he preferred to return the favor rather than let you take charge. But you were stubborn—probably even more so than he was. You wanted him to be spoiled just as much. You wanted him to experience the kind of care he gave to everyone else, and you had just the way to do it: Planning dates where he couldn’t take over. Once it was picnic in the woods. You went all out—your best blankets, his favorite snacks, wine you knew he’d like—and most importantly, you took care of every detail so that he couldn’t take charge. The other time, it was a movie night at your place where everything was set: Popcorn, soda, the projector and candy. “You’re stubborn, you know that?” he remarked softly, but there was affection behind his words. "I want spoil you... but you’ve managed to spoil me instead." You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading, knowing that in these small moment, you had made him feel cared for—something he usually avoided letting others do.

Sylus’ Salon: Sylus had always been a little gruff, his rugged demeanor giving off the impression of someone who was clinical and composed. But you knew him better than that. One of those moments was when you washed and dried his hair. He’d never asked for it, but you’d begun doing it without thinking. Maybe it was the way his silver hair shimmered under the water, or maybe it was the way he looked so disarmed when he let his guard down, letting you comb through his hair with graceful  fingers. You’d always notice how his breath would deepen, how his eyes would close just a little longer than necessary. "I know you like doing this," he’d say, the faintest hint of a grin playing on his lips. "But you’re making it hard for me to act all tough with you fussing over me like this." You’d laugh softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before continuing to dry his hair. It was an act of tenderness, a side of him that no one got to see.

Touch Starved: Sometimes, it wasn’t the grand gestures that mattered. It was the little touches. —a soft brush of your hand against his cheek or the fleeting warmth of your fingers tracing his jaw—he couldn’t help but pause. He’d find himself rewinding moments of you brushing his hair out of his face, or simply wrapping your arms around him when he least expected it. He’d tense, but only for a moment, before letting the warmth of your embrace dissolve his guarded exterior. “It seems like a certain kitten cannot keep her hands to herself.” Sylus would tease, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as you snuck in another kiss, letting him know that you’d spoil him with your touches and kisses, even if he won’t admit it loudly.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

[steddiealltheway]

As soon as Steve hears the phone ring, he sighs.

Robin is away visiting her family in Kentucky for the holidays, and the only other person to ever call would be...

"Dustin," Steve says, his free hand coming up to rest on his hip, "why are you calling?"

There's a pause on the other line before Dustin whines, "How do you always know when it's me."

"Because your irritating energy bleeds through the phone."

Another pause. "You got that from Robin, didn't you?"

Yes. He did. Sue him for wanting to be witty and taking a few notes from Robin. "What do you want?"

"Okay, so..." Oh boy. "I've been meaning to talk to Suzie for a while now, and we made plans not to talk on Christmas because she would be with her family all day, and I knew my mom wouldn't want me to be away for too long so-"

"The point, Dustin."

Dustin mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like multiple curse words before continuing, "The point is that I'm taking Cerebro to that hill, but I'm going to need a ride."

Steve frowns, walking toward the nearest window until the phone cord is fully stretched so he can pull a curtain open. He winces a bit at the bright light. "Dustin, it's freezing out, and the hill will be covered in snow."

"You would've done the same for Nancy!"

Steve's eyebrows raise. "Not the best approach if you want a ride, dude."

"I'm not trying to approach the whole you and Nancy thing. I'm trying to make a point," Dustin emphasizes a little too loudly into the phone. "You would do anything if you were in love! Even sit out in the snow for a few hours just so you can talk to the person you love."

"Have you ever heard of the phone?"

"Have you heard the number of siblings she has that would jump at the opportunity to listen in on our call? Plus, Cerebro is our thing."

Steve really wishes Dustin were in front of him, so he could see the way his cheeks are flushing during this exact moment. "You just like using your Cebro thing because it makes it feel like your love is forbidden."

"I do not!"

"Alright, Romeo," Steve says with a laugh, "I'll give you a ride. If you promise to only be there for an hour."

"Not including the time it takes to get there, set it up, and leave."

Steve sighs and knocks the phone against his head for a second before reluctantly agreeing, "Yes, but you better be bundled up so much that you're sweating out there. I don't want to hear you complain." He also secretly worries about the kid getting frostbite or something, but he'd never admit to it.

"Fine I'll see you in an hour?"

"Yeah, I'll see you then," Steve says as Dustin hangs up. "A thank you would've been nice..."

He really hopes he doesn't regret this.

-:-:-:-:-:-

When Dustin climbs in the car, he's bundled from head to toe but still manages to laugh at Steve who is wearing the same amount of layers as him. "Look in the mirror," Steve comments dryly before driving off.

The drive there isn't too long, and although Steve saw Dustin a few days ago - after Claudia insisted he spend Christmas with them instead of home alone - he's kind of glad to hang out with Dustin again. It's not often he gets a lot of one-on-one time with the kid anymore.

Which is why Steve is particularly bitchy when he pulls up to the familar area below the hill and find a familar van there.

"Dustin..."

"I didn't think you would agree to take me here and stay! So, I asked Eddie to give me a ride back this morning-"

"This morning?"

"And he said he was already going to be in the area and wanted to briefly meet Suzie and my Cerebro, so he's here now! And if you want, you can just drop me off. Think of it as a late Christmas gift."

Steve shakes his head. "And leave you in Munson's capable hands only to find out you two froze to death? No thanks." He gets out of the car with thoughts of a mourning Claudia Henderson on his mind.

"We wouldn't freeze to death!" Dustin practically shouts as he climbs out.

At that same moment, Eddie exits from his van, wearing his usual attire, only with maybe an extra added layer - a leather jacket.

Steve turns to Dustin, raising his eyebrows and gesturing toward Munson. Dustin sighs before going to the trunk to dig out all the different Cerebro parts.

Before Steve can join him, Eddie approaches him with a big smile. "Steve Harrington. Looking awfully toasty."

Steve rolls his eyes in response before openning his car door and reaching toward the back, grabbing the spare pair of gloves and a hat that he keeps whenever Robin forgets the extra layers - which is often. He hands them to Eddie without a word then helps Dustin grab his things before heading to their snow covered destination.

Eddie only lasts a few minutes up the hill before he manages to push into Steve's space while Dustin hurries ahead of them. "So, you look happy to see me."

"Just peachy, Munson."

Eddie snorts. "I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I would be tagging along when you got here?"

"And I'm guessing Dustin didn't tell you I was planning on staying."

"Actually," Eddie says, nudging Steve's shoulder, "I told him you would jump at the opportunity to hang out with him, and there was no way you would drop him off to freeze to death."

Steve narrows his eyes as he looks at Eddie.

Eddie shifts things around in his arms to grab his shirt and jacket and lift them up enough to show off some of his scarred skin. "Our matching battle scars will forever bound us, Steve. I wonder if the bats gave us telepathic abilities," he says, way too cheery for Steve's liking.

"If it did, then I would teleport up to the top of the hill right now."

"Telepathic means the ability to read each other's minds. The word you're thinking of is 'teleportation.'" Eddie corrects him without judgement - something Steve's always found surprising.

"Oh. Then guess what I'm thinking about right now."

Eddie hums before leaning in to mumble in his ear. "You're thinking about getting a piece of this."

Steve laughs and shoves him away. He's glad it's cold out so he blame his blush on the cold. For some reason, he's still not entirely immune to Eddie's flirting. "Definitely not what I was thinking about."

"You are now," Eddie teases.

Steve swallows heavily, pressing down those thoughts and many... many.... images. "I think you're confusing my thoughts for your own thoughts."

"Tell me about it," Eddie sighs dramatically.

Steve is relieved when he sees they've reached the top of the hill. He's even more relieved when Dustin doesn't ask for his help to put Cerebro together, but Eddie is all too happy to help while calling Dustin a genius - in various annoying, dramatic ways.

It's not long before Dustin is awaiting Suzie's response while Eddie bounces on his feet. Steve's not sure if it's from excitement or being cold - probably both.

"Dusty bun?"

Dustin's face lights up in a way that is entirely too endearing for Steve's heart to handle. The jedi has learned the art of love from the master - or something like that. "Suzie poo! I'm here with Steve and Eddie for the next few moments. Eddie wants to say hello."

Steve frowns and raises his voice, "I want to say hello, too! Eddie just wants to be dramatic about it."

"Because I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the lady," Eddie argues before turning up the charm. "Suzie, it's a pleasure. I'm sure you've heard nothing but wonderful things about me just like I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you. Unlike Steve over here who you've probably never heard a good thing about."

"Hi, Eddie, it's nice to meet you," Suzie replies, giggling. "And hi Steve!"

"Hey, Suze. Don't let Eddie win you over with his charm just yet. It's bad for his ego."

"You think I'm charming?" Eddie asks, batting his eyelashes.

Steve makes a see? gesture before realizing Suzie can't see him.

"Alright," Dustin says, "Now they're going to leave us alone for the next hour."

"Hour? It's already been at least five minutes," Steve complains.

Eddie grabs him by the shoulders and steers him away. "Don't worry, Suzie! I'll make sure you get the fulll hour!"

Steve lets Eddie guide him a little down the hill, ignoring when Suzie asks, "Do they always bicker like an old married couple?"

When they get a comfortable distance away, where they're out of earshot but Steve can still see Dustin to make sure he doesn't freeze to death, Steve sits on the ground. He glances up after he gets as comfortable as he can get on the side of a hill, only to find Eddie frowning down at him.

"What?" Steve asks.

Eddie shrugs. "Doesn't seem fair that you get to sit on the ground, and I can't."

Steve's eyes scan over Eddie's body. "Not my fault that you didn't wear a long enough jacket to cover your ass when you sit."

"Not my fault that I wasn't born into a wealthy family that can afford those jackets."

Steve's stomach flips, but he knows Eddie isn't looking for an apology. "Why don't you sit in your van then?"

"Wouldn't want to miss my chance to hang out alone with Steve Harrington," Eddie says with a wink.

Steve nearly scoffs and gives him a snarky reply, but his thoughts go out the window when he notices Eddie's teeth chattering. "Shit," he mutters.

"What was that?"

Steve groans and stands up before unzipping his large jacket.

"Am I in a dream?" Eddie jokes, but his voice shakes a bit.

"You're about to be living one," Steve says dryly as he stands in front of Eddie and opens his coat. Eddie just stares at him. Steve huffs out a breath that becomes visible in the cold air between them. "Come here."

"What?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at Eddie before tugging at his coat. But Eddie continues to stare at him with wide wandering eyes. "I'm not letting you freeze to death up here, so come here before I tell Dustin to pack it up because you're cold."

Eddie crosses his arms a little tighter. "I'm f-fine." A shiver visibly runs through Eddie's body.

Steve rolls his eyes for what feels like the hundreth time this day and wraps Eddie in his jacket before he can protest.

He's stiff for a moment, then Eddie relaxes enough to wrap his arms around Steve who is able to close the jacket around them. They linger in each other's arms long enough that Eddie stops shivering and Steve wonders how much time Dustin has left with Suzie.

"Better?" Steve asks to break the silence.

He feels Eddie nod over his shoulder before he pulls back enough to look him in the eye, nose brushing against Steve's as he whispers, "I know something we could do to keep ourselves warm."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest.

Eddie laughs and tucks his head into Steve neck, his lips far away enough from Steve's that it's no longer the only thing on Steve's mind. With the new brain space, he can feel Eddie drum a nervous rhythm onto his back and bounce a little on his face. He wonders if maybe Eddie was onto the whole scars making them read each other's minds thing because he swears he knows the first part of what Eddie's about to say before he says it.

"Sorry if that was too much. No guy has ever let me flirt at them the way you do."

Steve gets stuck on flirt at and, "No guy?"

Eddie lets out a short humorless laugh. "No guy."

And for some reason, Steve has to ask, "Has any guy let you kiss them before?"

Eddie pulls back to look at him with a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "What are you getting at, Steve?"

Steve glances at Eddie's lips, slightly chapped but they've never looked more inviting. Maybe it's time to listen to Robin's knowing looks whenever Eddie is around and Steve finds himself simultaneously drawn to him while also wanting to run to the bathroom with Robin to have another floor talk. "What if one guy let you kiss them?"

"Steve..." Eddie whispers, his eyes flicking over his shoulder.

Steve turns to find Dustin, facing away from them. Still he loosens his hold on Eddie and says, "Wrap your arms around my neck instead of my back."

Eddie does as he's told, and Steve gives him no warning before saying, "Hopefully this goes alright." Then, he slightly picks up Eddie before falling back, letting the snow break their fall as he lays back with Eddie on top of him.

"That went better than I thought it would," Steve says with a big smile then asks, "Can Dustin see us?"

Eddie glances up and shakes his head.

"Perfect," Steve says, heart practically beating out of his chest when Eddie looks down at him. When he doesn't make a move, Steve can't help but tease, "So you really are all bark, no bite."

"Shut up, Harrington," Eddie says before finally kissing him.

For only a moment, Steve nearly laughs at the fact that Eddie Munson told him to shut up. But then his brain goes nearly haywire yet completely silent when Eddie's lips meet his in what he thinks might be the single most transformative kiss of his life.

His arms tighten around Eddie's back, and Eddie's hands move to cup the back of his head as they deepen the kiss. Somehow, laying in snow, Steve has never felt warmer.

They eventually break the first kiss reluctantly, both of them going back to steal more as they catch their breath, which turns into laughter and giggles between more kisses. Then, Eddie breaks away long enough to say, "You know, the van is seeming like a really great option at the moment."

"And Dustin's a smart kid. He knows how to not freeze to death," Steve says, kissing Eddie every chance he gets.

"You're right. No need to stay here in the snow," Eddie replies.

"Right."

Neither of them make a move to get up, but they both move to kiss again.

It's only a little while later before they hear Dustin yell out, "Guys?" And that's when they finally break away.

Eddie pops up first and calls out, "Yeah?"

"Let's pack up! It's been over an hour! Come on!"

Steve pulls Eddie back down into the snow one more time for a kiss before stomping up the hill. "Alright, alright. We thought you'd be happier that we gave you more time and that we both waited for you."

"it's cold," Dustin complains.

Steve nods, but he still feels warm.

Eddie joins a few moments later, stealing glances at Steve before asking Dustin what they're doing next.

"I'm thinking we change out of our snow clothes and get food somewhere maybe..." Dustin trails off and frowns at Eddie. "Why are you covered in snow?"

"We were making a snow angel?" Eddie hurriedly says.

Steve tries not to laugh.

"One?" Dustin asks.

Eddie nods. "You'll see it on the way down."

Sure enough, on the way down, they all see one horribly disfigured snow angel.

While Steve laughs and Eddie smiles proudly, Dustin shakes his head and mutters something like more curses to himself. In a volume that's able to be picked up by the other boys, he asks, "Eddie, you'll drop me off at my house, and we'll meet back up in an hour at my house?"

"Hour and a half," Steve says. When Dustin opens his mouth to complain, Steve explains, "I need to take a shower so I don't get pnemonia. Plus, I'm not letting my hair freeze on my way to your house."

"Fine," Dustin sighs. "See you then."

"See you then," Eddie echoes to Steve, winking at him once.

Soon after Steve gets home, he hears a knock on the front door, and when it's Eddie on the other side, Steve pulls him in and says, "Maybe you were right about the telek- tele-"

"Telekentic abilities?"

Steve nods as he closes the door behind Eddie and traps him against it. "I definitely know what you're thinking about now."

Eddie cocks his head to the side and wraps his arms around Steve's neck. "Yeah? What am I thinking about?"

"Kissing me again," Steve says, leaning in.

"Actually," Eddie says turning his head away, "I was thinking about a lemon."

"Crazy. I happen to have lemon scented body wash," Steve comments as he grabs Eddie's hands and tugs him up the stairs.

They're both a little late to Dustin's house. And maybe their hair freezes a bit.

But Dustin was right. There's a lot of things Steve would do for love.

[21280]

my first sauna experience, told with katsuki bakugo. warnings for nsfw, afab reader, no pronouns used tho! reader wears a bikini, semi public? (it's a sauna), bit of nipple play, kats likes boobs n booty, hickeys, uses of "babe" and "bitch", fingering, mentions of the pill.

katsuki bakugo despises saunas. he sweats like crazy during his day to day life, so him being trapped in a room that makes him sweat balls isn't ideal. unless, he's trapped inside with you.

what started out as a pool day to cool off led to to borderline suffocation, the vapor and eucalyptus leaves making your body tense up even more as you straddle the blond's lap. his lips clash against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, as his hands roam over your thighs.

katsuki bakugo is intoxicating. once you kiss him, it suddenly becomes impossible to stop. the way his tongue slips past your lips to wrestle yours so easily, how he bites your bottom lip not too hard for it to bleed, but hard enough to leave a mark, how he always manages to find that sweet spot on your neck as he nibbles his way to your breasts—

katsuki bakugo is a fucking genius. sometimes.

there's a limit to his greatness. because you're katsuki's first everything, and he's fucking clueless. as his hand carefully (and cluelessly) fondles your breast beneath your bikini, you giggle. looking at him, you smile. "you can leave a mark on me, y'know? i don't bite."

he scoffs, "you think i wanna hear shit from my mom during lunch when she sees you?"

"you can leave it somewhere she doesn't see, kats. i'll give you creative liberty, picasso."

katsuki retrives his hand as he starts to think. his looks your body up and down, looking for a spot. neck is a no-go, you never wear turtlenecks. thighs and stomach are off limits too, because half your closet is filled with cropped tshirts and shorts. you knew he had figured something out when his fingers gently pushed aside your bikini, driving his mouth to your breast. he suckles on a spot right above your nipple, as his fingers pinch to his liking.

your body's quick to react, back arching slightly as your hand is placed on katsuki's chest. "careful" you hiss, and he pays no mind. unconsciously, you buck your hips towards him, earning a groan in return. you let your hands roam through his hair, when he pulls away, a smirk is plastered on his face. "kinda looks like a heart. i did a damn good job."

his lips connect with yours once again, and his hands lower towards your ass. it's not unusual for katsuki to do so, but you notice their trajectory is a bit different this time. his fingers brush over the hem of your panties as you shudder, holding back a moan.

"let me see it" he demands, "just once."

and you nod, looking up at the ceiling from pure embarrassment. because it hasn't been too long since you and katsuki have been intimate. it drives you crazy how he's not shameful at all.

he pushes your panties to the side, groaning at the sight. his fingers ghost over your clit, two of them slowly sinking inside you. the sight of you taking his fingers is enough for katsuki to feel his cock twitch with excitement in his swim trunks. and as they begin to thrust, you lean closer to him, mewling his name right in his ear. it’s exhilarating, the thought that anyone could burst through the door is enough for katsuki to speed things up, just the way he likes it.

you curse your boyfriend’s coarse fingers, the sounds that escaped your lips were so raw, so lewd—you thought the security guard would bust you down at any second. and as you gripped desperately on katsuki's shoulders, he hums. it’s mostly during these moments when you see a side to katsuki bakugo the world has never seen.

“fuck—i need your pretty pussy. right now—please—just take me raw.”

katsuki bakugo begs.

your eyes widen at his statement, “katsuki, you do realize i’m not on the pill, right?”

he abruptly retrieves his fingers. “i’ll pull out, i swear—just fucking do it.”

you giggle at your boyfriend’s neediness, “you do realize if something goes wrong, we’ll have little me’s running around in a few months, right? it’s a no for now, kats. we’re still young.”

katsuki sighs, his hands guiding your hips as he aligned your entrance with his clothed cock. “then fucking use me. got that?”

you waste no time rocking your hips, slowly grinding against his bulge. with his hands still on you, katsuki throws his head back as he bucks his hips forward, helping you quicken the pace. “d’you know how good you feel? ‘s like you’re riding me, babe.”

you know katsuki is long gone from pleasure when he pulls out the names. when he’s a moaning mess, hungrily pulling you towards him, you know you have him right where you want him. a few slaps, rough kisses, and hair pulling, and katsuki is at his limit.

“fuck—bitch—i’m done” is what he manages to say before he comes undone, his forehead bumping against yours as he mutters a small ‘i love you.’

as you catch your breath, you plant a quick peck on your boyfriend’s cheek. “you ready for lunch with your parents, kats?”

“you shitting me?” he asks, bewildered. “you’re lucky i’m changing my trunks, cause i got nut all over.”

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ in which: itoshi sae feels inferior to itoshi rin; even if for just a moment

includes: itoshi sae! x reader. 1.7k wc. fluff and humour (i promise the title is just dramatic). silly itoshi brothers but we love them. kind of ooc rin. includes some swearing but it's meant to be lighthearted <3

itoshi rin being sick was somehow more of an inconvenience to sae than it was to rin himself. his brother falling ill during his stay at sae’s place was already a disgusting coincidence. now, sae had to watch the unfortunate scenes unfold in front of him without a choice.

“woah, you’re burning up, rin,” your voice filled the room, holding the thermometer up to check it again, your voice laced with concern. rin only nodded, his quiet nature amplified by the haze of his fever. his half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks made him look pitiful, almost drowsy.

to sae, it was nauseating how pathetic he looked—and worse, how effective it was.

“here, i got you medicine,” you said, helping him sit up from a lying position. “say ahh,” you sang sweetly, holding an ibuprofen capsule to rin’s lips and following up with a glass of water. he obediently parted his lips without a word, swallowing with a slight grimace but no complaints.

meanwhile, sae stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, scowling like a cat. rin must have it so damn good right now, he thought bitterly. crashed out on his bed, coughing like a mess, and worst of all—being pampered by you! him spreading germs all over the room was annoying enough, but the fact that you were doting on him? that was the real problem. sure, rin was sick, but did you have to treat him like royalty? it made sae feel almost childish how much it irked him. he knew you were just being you—kind, caring, and attentive. you weren’t a complete jerk like sae; of course, you’d take care of your boyfriend’s little brother.

but still, the sight of you meticulously adjusting rin’s pillow, tucking him snugly into the blanket you and sae usually shared, and gently brushing his hair out of his face like he was some spoiled kid—it was enough to drive sae up the wall. and if all that wasn't bad enough, now you were feeding him. feeding him.

rin opened his mouth again without so much as a sigh, his quiet compliance somehow making the scene even worse. sae glared as you dabbed the corner of rin’s mouth with a tissue, your expression always remaining soft and tender.

sae’s patience finally cracked as he scoffed. “pick up your own damn spoon,” he muttered under his breath.

you finally tore your gaze from rin to look at sae, laughing lightly. “it’s okay, sae. he’s sick. it doesn’t bother me.” it didn’t bother you, but it sure as hell bothered him. watching rin quietly accept another spoonful while sae fumed in the corner felt like a fresh insult every second.

“is the soup good? i tried my best,” you asked, giving the bowl another stir, awaiting his answer. your expression was so stupidly expectant that it effortlessly tugged at sae’s heart. rin, naturally, noticed the way his older brother’s jaw tightened from the corner of his eye, sae’s glare sharp enough to cut through steel—nonverbally screaming at him to be nice. rin wasn’t dumb—he knew better than to even consider giving a bad review of your cooking, especially with sae simmering in his spot by the door. and besides, the soup was actually delicious. “it’s good,” rin said, glancing at you. he took another spoonful for good measure, his movements deliberately slow, before adding, “it’s like our mom’s cooking.”

your face lit up instantly, a warm smile spreading across your lips. “i’m glad! good thing i asked for her recipe,” you shared, feeling accomplished. then, after a thoughtful pause, rin continued, “nii-chan should try some.” that last line, paired with the smallest, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at rin’s lips as he subtly shifted his posture toward sae, was so perfectly calculated it could’ve been a soccer play. rin didn’t even bother looking at his brother; he didn’t need to. the strained silence from sae’s corner was reward enough.

sae’s knuckles flexed against the doorframe, his patience wearing thinner than ever. try some? was rin actually inviting him to participate in this ridiculous display? no way in hell. you turned to sae with an inviting smile, completely oblivious to the brewing tension. “sae, you can have some if you want. i made more just in case…” his eyes flickered to you for a moment, and he opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a quiet, disgruntled, “i’m fine.”

rin didn’t look up, but his breath released ever so slightly faster—barely perceptible—like he was holding back laughter. and yet, rin wasn’t done being petty. he shifted slightly under the blanket, letting out a low sigh that seemed almost contemplative. “my back hurts.”

he murmured quietly, drawing out the words just enough to give them weight. his gaze flicked briefly to sae—long enough for him to notice—before turning to you with a soft, almost too-casual tone.

“i think i need a massage.”

before sae could even process the audacity, you were already setting the soup aside. “oh no! here, turn around—” “it’s fine,” sae absolutely snaps, stepping forward and snatching you up from the bed. he firmly guided you toward the door. “i got him. just bring a hot towel, will you?” “huh? oh, okay…” you blinked, a bit startled by his sudden intervention, but nodded. “if you need anything—anything—just call, okay?”

you shot rin a sympathetic look as you left, sae’s hand still firm on the small of your back until you were out the door.

the moment the door clicked shut, it was as if rin’s back was in pristine condition—like he was born with the perfect spine. he sat up straight, stretching with ease, his back suddenly requiring nothing but a headboard to rest on. sae responded with nothing except his expression, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer. without a word, sae lifted his leg and dug a kick square to rin’s back. “what the fuck?!” rin hissed, flinching forward. “back pain, huh?” sae asked flatly, mocking his claims. “you’re too old to be attention-seeking, dumbass,” he said, giving him another shove with his foot. “go back to okaasan, since you like being babied so much.” “fuckin’ hypocrite,” rin kicked back with both legs, shoving sae’s leg away with surprisingly good strength for someone whose supposed bones were crackling just a second ago. “you’re the one fuming for her attention.” sae rolled his eyes, unable to accept the fact that he was probably right. “she’s my girlfriend, you fucker,” despite the possibility, he defends, his voice sharper now. “and yet here you are,” rin said smugly, leaning back against the headboard, “competing with a sick kid.” sae opened his mouth to retort but froze. damn it. he was competing. and somehow, rin was winning.

“here’s the towel—” you finally walked in, but not without sensing the tension hanging in the air. “did something happen?…” you quickly remarked, in a suspicious manner. “no.” both rin and sae responded in perfect unison, their tone almost too quick, too practiced. you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only one who wasn’t in on whatever strange, silent competition they were having.

“rin’s feeling better,” sae suddenly spoke out, his voice way too casual, as he bolted for the door. “call if you need anything.” “ah, okay…” you blinked, eyes lingering on him watching him go before shaking your head. maybe you did imagine that awkwardness.

you quickly turned your attention back to rin and handed him the towel. “you should get some rest. i’ll attend to some chores.” rin gave a quiet nod, already looking more comfortable with the towel draped over him. you gave him a smile, relieved to see him at least looking better, before stepping out of the room. you found sae in the kitchen, carefully dishing out a bowl of soup. the act was too adorable; you couldn’t resist. you snuck up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a gentle backhug. “what do you want?” sae asked, his voice trying to sound neutral, but you could hear the softness underneath it. you rested your chin on his shoulder, feeling his warmth, and smiled. “why are you sulking?” you asked softly, your tone full of concern. “i’m not,” sae replied, though the words came out more quietly than he intended, a little hint of frustration still there. you could feel his tension, so you just squeezed him a little tighter, letting the silence settle for a beat. “i know you’re worried,” you said, voice gentle and sincere, “but it’s okay. he’ll be fine. i’m making sure of it.” sae remained quiet for a moment, but there was something different in the way his shoulders eased under your touch. he wasn’t used to this kind of reassurance, but somehow it always worked.

there was always something disarming about your presence, the way you seemed to understand him without asking for anything in return. he didn’t quite know what to do with this feeling—this overwhelming need to just be close to you. without making any effort to break the hug, sae's hands gently moved to rest on yours. he turned slightly so he could look at you, his eyes soft and filled with something tender you couldn't quite place. there was a subtle shift as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. he paused, just for a moment, before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. the kiss lingered longer than usual, a silent reassurance in the simple gesture. “i’m not worried,” sae whispered firmly, trying his best to rely his feelings. “since you’re taking care of him, i’ll just take care of you.” you blinked, your chest tightening with warmth at his words. it was rare for sae to lose his guard, and in these moments, his affection always spoke far louder than anything he could say. you could feel the space between you narrowing as he moved even closer, his lips brushing near yours. “isn’t that right?” he whispered, his voice low and filled with a quiet confidence.

AH-CHOO! a loud sneeze rang through the hallway, shattering every sense of peace in the house. sae froze, his entire posture stiffening, as he shot a death glare toward the room where rin was.

god he’s gonna kill him.

a/n: this is such an old draft omg...finally got inspired to publish it bcz i currently feel like sae lmao. still figuring out my writing style so i hope nobody minds the randomness of my works T-T

[rafesdollette]

LATE NIGHT DRIVES

PAIRING: BSF!RAFE X SWEETHEART!FEM!READER

summary: Rafe cherished these drives with you. Where you both would blare your wildly different music, talk about anything that came to mind, and stop at random convenience stores for snacks. It was the only time where he felt genuinely relaxed and content.

a/n: okayy new setup? 🫣 I dunno, I'm trying it out but I likee. very professional, very cutesy. Anyway, this is my first well thought out writing so please do leave constructive criticism if you think I could do something different next time...

word count: 0.6k

The route to your house was second nature by now. He's been there so much that he almost knows it better than his own home. which he doesn't mind at all, cause your house was basically his second home.

As you lie in your bed, your phone buzzes with an "I'm outside" text from Rafe. So per routine, you get up, throwing on the first hoodie in reach and heading out of the door.

He blows out out a breath, letting out a low "Its about fucking time" as you get in his truck.

"yeah yeah, it wasn't that long. you're just impatient"

he pulls out of your driveway, scoffing slightly "I must have plenty of patience, I deal with you, don't I? and put your seat belt on."

Once your seat belt is fastened, he begins driving on the road, having no destination in mind like usual. For a while, it's just silence between you two. Which isn't uncommon for both of you, it's familiar and more comforting than he'd like to admit.

"Lets stop at a gas station for snacks" you request, looking out the window

He nods, a murmured "sure" leaving his lips as he drives in the direction of the nearest gas station.

Entering the gas station, you immediately make your way toward the section with candy, picking out packages of a variety of candies while he heads towards the chips.

Once you both have gathered a good amount of snacks for each of you, which you both are gonna end up sharing anyway, you set them down on the counter as the cashier to rings up all of the items that he ends up paying for like usual since he'll throw a fit if he doesn't.

When you both make it into the car, he drives to the usual spot you both spend nights at. An empty parking lot. "Oh my gosh, turn it up!" you motion to the radio, smiling widely.

He groans as he turns up the radio "What the hell is this? Taylor Swift?"

"Sabrina Carpenter" you correct "And it's good, just listen."

"Yeah, I'd rather not" he replies as he takes a few gummy bears from the bag in your lap. He always claims to hate your music taste but you always find him humming a beat to one of the songs you pick out during a drive.

He leans back into his seat, chewing slowly as he listens to the lyrics. "You listen to some dirty music" he chuckles

"Hey, she's not that bad. You should see her on tour though, you'll have a stroke."

he raises his eyebrow, an amused expression on his face "really, huh? what, are you gonna go?"

you hum, shaking your head "No. I want to, though. But her tickets are kinda pricey. Maybe if I have extra money to spend soon."

"I'll take you."

The Skittles you were eating nearly get stuck in your throat as you look at him in bewilderment "What?! No! Rafe, that's too much money."

he shrugs "It's fine. I wanna do it. Just let me? Please?" of course he wouldn't bat an eye at spending that much money, he was loaded.

you hesitate for a moment, but seeing the insistence in his eyes, you eventually nod slightly "Fine. You can take me. But I'm paying you back eventually, alright?"

"Mm okay, sure. Deal." he agrees, even though he knows when it comes time for you to pay him back, he'll either give the money right back to you or refuse it.

"Thank you, Rafe. I appreciate it." you smile, genuinely touched by his willingness to spend that much money on you. It was rare that he went out of his way to please someone.

"Mhm, of course" he smiles back before throwing a gummy bear your way "consider it a late birthday gift."

"my birthday was like nine months ago, but okay."

"Mm yeah, just go with it" he chuckles, reaching over and talking your hand.

That was definitely new...

[muletia]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[tfp] obsessed!orion pax x human!reader

summary: what if optimus' obsession bypassed his memory loss? what if he was so infatuated that even his past self yearned for you?

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, canon divergence: orion is taken by the autobots, obsessive thoughts, clinginess, orion literally cannot be left alone for one(1) second, tbh nothing happens in this, i just wanted to write obsessed!orion interacting with you, bad writing, silliness

word count: 4700

"Come to the base. It's urgent."

As you stare at the terse message from Ratchet, your chewing slows and stops. A storm of questions whirls in your mind, panic creeping into your body. Before you can even type a single letter, your phone rings. The caller is none other than the Autobot medic himself. You answer in less than a second.

"Hello? Ratchet, please don't scare me—what exactly happened?"

"It's about Optimus." Your heart skips a beat. "During the last mission, he was... injured. Or, to be precise, damaged."

"Is it serious?" you ask, pacing nervously around the break room. Lunch now long forgotten. "Will he be all right?"

"Physically—he's never looked or felt better. Mentally, however... that's a different story. I'll explain the details when you get here. And make it quick."

"Hold on, wait—I can't just leave work early like that. There's a whole procedure for this. I can't just waltz out, even though I’d love to leave right now."

"...In an hour and a half, I expect to see you here at the base. See you then."

He hangs up. You stare at your phone screen for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head. Something serious must have happened—Ratchet wouldn’t disturb you at work otherwise. And it involved Optimus... You bite your lip, torn by indecision. You need to at least make sure he's okay, to see with your own eyes what Ratchet was talking about. Otherwise, you'll regret your negligence and spend the rest of the day worrying.

Shoving the half-eaten sandwich into your bag, you rush to your computer to draft a request for early leave, praying fervently that your boss will grant it.

You kept pressing the gas, speeding toward the base, trying to balance obeying traffic laws with worrying about the Autobot. You knew he had been preparing for a mission recently, he had told you about it during a ride you shared, but you didn’t expect it to end like this. Maybe you should have, considering you were associated with a race of aliens deeply embroiled in a centuries-long war, but you always pushed such unpleasant thoughts to the back of your mind, wishing your friends the best. Now, though, all the worst scenarios were coming to the surface. Had he fallen into a coma? Was his processor damaged? Had he died? You didn’t want to think about such an ending. Optimus was alive. You were sure of that.

Seeing the familiar red rock, a tight knot of anxiety gripped your throat. In a few moments, you were about to drive into what was practically your second home, not knowing what awaited you. You glanced at the clock. You were half an hour late—well beyond the time Ratchet had given you.

As if on cue, the medic called you again.

“Don’t enter the hangar. Leave the vehicle at the entrance.”

Before you could say a word, he hung up, leaving you to sigh in frustration.

Following his instructions, you parked at the main entrance and made the rest of the journey on foot. The lights seemed especially harsh, glaring into your eyes as the tunnel stretched endlessly ahead of you, as if warning you, giving you one last chance to turn back. But no force on Earth could stop you now. Determined, you marched forward, needing to know what had happened to your friend.

The hangar was full of Autobots, their sheer presence intimidating. You had thought you were over the feeling of smallness that came with being one of the humans among them, but now it hit you again, hard, dredging up memories of when humans in their midst were still a novelty. You froze for a moment, your courage momentarily disappearing in the shadows of giants.

It wasn’t until your eyes landed on the reason you had left work early that you began to breathe again. Optimus stood there, seemingly whole and healthy, facing the platform where the kids likely were. Relief washed over you. He was alive. Your heart was still racing, but the weight of dread lifted slightly, leaving you braced for the next wave of bad news.

"Hey, sorry I’m late. Work took longer than I expected," you called out.

Your voice immediately caught his attention. Optimus turned to you so abruptly that it shocked everyone present, abandoning the conversation he had been engaged in. Tilting your head back to meet his gaze, you were surprised when he knelt down on one knee, making himself more accessible. You still had to look up, but now his face wasn’t obscured by his… windshields.

The first hint that something was off was his smile—wide, cheerful, and curious. Optimus didn’t smile like that, not even when something genuinely delighted him. Worry started gnawing at you again. Something was wrong.

"Greetings. You must be our next human ally, correct?"

At first, you were at a loss for words. Of all the scenarios you had imagined, memory loss hadn’t even crossed your mind. But before the conversation could veer into awkward territory or panic could take hold, you managed to reply, mirroring his smile.

"That’s right."

"You seem… familiar. As though we have met before."

The hangar fell silent, the atmosphere thickening.

"Of course he would remember her," Ratchet hissed under his breath. You shot him a glare filled with venom.

Focusing back on the mech before you, you forced a calm smile, masking the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You felt like you were on the verge of exploding—uncertain whether to jog his memories or pretend this was truly your first meeting. Why hadn’t anyone given you guidance on how to handle this?

"Erm, well…" you began, only for Ratchet to step in and spare you.

"Humans can look quite similar at first glance," the medic interjected. "Orion, this is [Name], the last human who should know of our existence."

A flicker of something lit up in his cyan optics—something indefinable, known only to him.

"Greetings, [Name]. It is a great pleasure to meet you."

He extended a servo toward you. Tentatively, you clasped one of his digits, ignoring the ache in your heart. This shouldn’t have been happening. You shouldn’t have to forge a new relationship with someone so dear to you. It felt uncanny—like he was wearing Optimus’s skin but was someone entirely different inside. It was unnerving, disorienting. Yet this stranger had knelt before you, reduced himself to your scale to show respect, just as Optimus always had. It was a glimpse of his alternate self, a sign of the inherent honor and kindness he still carried.

"Hello, Orion. The pleasure is all mine."

Letting go of his servo, you gave him an apologetic smile, signaling the end of the conversation. You needed answers, clarity about the situation, before you could decide how to proceed. As Orion straightened up, you stepped past him toward the platform. You could feel curious optics on you, particularly his, as you fist-bumped the kids. Unbeknownst to you, Orion clenched his servo in the same way you had during your handshake.

"So," you said to Ratchet, "what happened?"

The medic sighed, clearly weary of recounting the story yet again. But you had to know. You listened intently, the details unsettling and at times horrifying, but you felt a growing sense of calm. At least now you knew what you were dealing with—what topics to avoid, how to act. The relief faded, however, when you learned that the first attempt to restore Optimus’s memories had failed, and no date had been set for the next.

As Ratchet spoke, most of the team dispersed, leaving only you, the medic, and Orion in the hangar. Taking a moment to process everything, you glanced at Orion, catching his curious gaze.

This was your new reality. Optimus was gone, yet not entirely, standing just a few meters away, watching you intently. It was too much to dwell on. You needed something to distract yourself.

Standing from the couch, you headed down the stairs. You figured you’d be here for the rest of the evening, so you might as well find something productive to do.

"[Name]?" Orion’s voice stopped you in your tracks. He looked genuinely concerned. "Are you leaving already?"

His behavior puzzled you.

"I’m just going to grab my things. I’ll be right back."

"I see. May I accompany you?"

Oh, that was adorable—especially with the hopeful tone in his voice.

"I’m not sure you’ll fit in the tunnel in your current form," you teased with a laugh. "It won’t take long. I’ll be back in a minute."

This time, you quickened your pace.

For several hours, Orion's life had been filled with uncertainty. He didn’t know how he had ended up on this planet, who the Autobots around him were, or why they called him "Prime" when he felt he was unworthy of the title. And now, another enigma had appeared—you. Orion could not rationalize the overwhelming need to be near you. He had felt it the moment he laid his optics on you. The need to stay close, to converse, to observe. The need to know you better. Never before had such intense emotions stirred within him for anyone, let alone a stranger. But you weren’t a stranger. This may have been your first meeting, and he may have spoken to you for the first time, but you were not unfamiliar. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

Seconds stretched into minutes, and minutes into hours since you had disappeared into the tunnel. He regretted not following you, even if it meant transforming into his alt-form. At least he would have kept an optic on you, preventing the gnawing feelings of confusion and longing from devouring him from inside.

Ratchet watched his friend closely. He recognized that look, that body language. He knew what it signified, what storm was brewing in Orion’s processor. Optimus had been the same when it came to you. For a brief moment, his friend was back. Too bad it was under such circumstances.

"Do you really remember that woman?" he asked.

"I am not certain," Orion replied, still gazing toward the tunnel. "I feel like she is not a stranger, even though I know this was our first encounter. And as… Prime, if I indeed held that title, was she close to me?"

Primus.

"Perhaps closer than any human, but only Optimus knew to what extent. That might explain why you recognized her."

"Then she is special."

"Everything points to that."

Orion glanced at him, offering a faint smile. For reasons Ratchet couldn’t quite explain, the gesture was hard to look at. Fortunately, you emerged from the tunnel, giving him an excuse to start working again.

"See? I told you it’d only take a minute," you laughed, a black backpack slung over your shoulder.

Orion didn’t confess the truth—that by his reckoning, you had been gone an eternity. He watched intently as you climbed the stairs and took a seat on the couch.

"So, Orion," you began, "what did you do on Cybertron?"

Oh. You were curious about him? Truly? He had never thought of himself as particularly interesting.

It was fortunate that you were not looking at him because his body language betrayed his embarrassment.

"I was an archivist. Do humans on Earth have similar professions?"

"Of course. You know, I’ve always admired archivists. It’s meticulous work, requiring patience and nerves of steel—if you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s an important job, and anyone who takes it up is very cool in my book."

"Cool?"

"You know, fascinating, impressive, admirable."

"Does that mean that... in your optics, I am… cool?"

He asked without thinking and immediately regretted it when you gave him an amused look. Embarrassed, he tilted his helm downward. For such a towering and formidable being, he was also astonishingly skittish. It was peculiar to see a former Prime in such a light, but it made him more relatable, more emotionally accessible. Even so, you couldn’t deny that you missed Optimus.

"Of course, you’re cool to me."

That answer brightened him. A spectacle of stars dances in his optics.

You returned to typing on your laptop, but Orion had other plans for you.

"It seems I still have much to learn about this planet."

"I think you’ll catch on quickly. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, the other bots don’t know everything either. If you’re ever unsure, just ask. I’ll do my best to help."

"Thank you, [Name]. Your kindness is very important to me."

"Anytime. If you’d like, you could also explore our literature—it’ll give you a good insight into what humanity is all about. That sounds like a fitting activity for an archivist, doesn’t it?"

He would much rather have you as his sole source of knowledge about your species, as it meant spending more time with you. He wanted to know not just what you were but who you were—your interests, where you worked, how you spent your free time, your philosophy, beliefs, and hobbies. Everything you were willing to share. He wanted to know you inside and out, to solidify this sense of connection and make it real. And if you wished, he would bare his own secrets, reveal his spark, and show you every part of himself. Perhaps then you might look at him just for a second longer.

"Yes, I believe that would be an enjoyable activity. And what is it that you do?"

He asked question after question, each answer adding a new layer of understanding about you. He shared a little in return, preferring listening to you—your opinions, your perspective.

Time passed swiftly in your company. Relentless and unforgiving, it waited for no one. Orion realized this when you set aside your device and began stretching. It was a mesmerizing sight—your movements were so different from those of Cybertronians, fluid, and light. That was until the air was pierced by the loud crack coming from your back.

Energon froze in his fuel lines, and his spark leaped to his intake.

"[Name]? Are you alright? Are you harmed?"

"Hm?" you hummed, confused. He looked as though calamity had befallen him, as though you’d been beheaded. Then you remembered—it was Orion, not Optimus, and the human body was weird. "Oh, that. Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s perfectly normal." To prove your point, you began cracking your knuckles, stopping quickly when you saw his horrified expression. "Okay, sorry about that. But really, I’m fine. I just need to stretch."

"Alright…" he replied, though he didn’t seem convinced. You couldn’t blame him.

You rose from the couch and stepped down from the platform, intending to take a short walk. Panic erupted in his spark. Oh no. No, no, no. He didn’t want to be left alone, not after such a jarring experience. He wouldn’t let you out of his optics now—not even for a moment.

"May I accompany you?"

"Of course!" you replied without hesitation, smiling—a gesture he immediately mirrored. "It won’t be very exciting, though."

"On the contrary, I find you to be a most intriguing individual."

"Oh, thank you," you said, clearing your throat, embarrassed. Compliments delivered in that baritone still flustered you.

Together, you ventured deeper into the base, bypassing various sections. In the training room, Arcee worked on her speed, while Bulkhead struck a makeshift punching bag fashioned from an old car. The children watched the spectacle, occasionally entertaining themselves. You both quickly slipped past the always-open entryway and continued on your way.

“[Name]?” Orion inquires. You turn into an empty hangar with a high platform, starting to ascend the stairs.

“Hm?”

“How do humans attempt to court their partners?”

You hadn't expected that kind of question. You stop mid-step, pondering your answer. When you look at him, his expression is dead serious, though his optics betray a determination. Why would he want to know this? You decide it’s probably mere curiosity.

“It depends on the person.” You continue climbing the stairs until you finally reach the top, now level with his faceplate. “Some buy gifts like flowers, others go on elaborate dates. But the common factor is spending time together, and getting to know one another. Feelings tend to develop naturally that way,” you explain. “Actually, that’s an interesting topic. How did it work on Cybertron?”

“Similarly. However, instead of exchanging ‘flowers,’ we presented rare metals or crystals to leave the best impression. To demonstrate strength and potential as a partner.”

“I know a few people who would totally fall for that approach. Heh, I’d be thrilled to get a geode myself.”

Orion suddenly lights up. Were you suggesting something or just sharing an opinion? Whatever it was, he felt compelled to try. To prove himself worthy. Perhaps he could even find the ‘flowers’ you mentioned.

“I see. Thank you for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome?” you reply, unsure exactly how you’ve helped, but the sight of his broad smile and bright optics makes it all worthwhile. He was utterly adorable.

The two of you chat casually until you’re forced to check the time. You inhale sharply, and Orion tilts his head slightly, curious about your reaction.

“It was great talking to you, but I really need to go. I have work tomorrow and I’d like to get some sleep.”

Panic flashes across his face. He had enjoyed your company so much. He didn’t feel alienated or alone when he was with you. The sense of connection played a significant role, but Orion had already let you into his spark. He had found a safe harbor in you and wasn’t ready to drift away just yet. He wasn’t ready to let go, even if the world around him were to crumble.

“May I accompany you?” he asks, desperation seeping into his tone.

“Excuse me?”

“May I accompany you?” he repeats, now begging.

“My home isn’t exactly designed to host a giant robot. Besides, it’s dangerous and... wait, do you even know the traffic regulations?”

His expression answers the question, but he still attempts to defend himself.

“I have acquainted myself with them partially.”

“Who has the right of way at an uncontrolled intersection?”

He opens his mouth but quickly closes it again, visibly crestfallen. He looks as though he might cry.

“Orion, we’ll see each other tomorrow,” you reassure him. “The first thing I’ll do after work is come here.”

He frantically searches for an argument to keep you with him—anything to prolong your company. Then he remembers his first encounter with human children.

“Every child was assigned a guardian who escorted them home and ensured their safety,” he states, refusing to give up. “Do you have a protector?”

“Unofficially, that was Optimus…”

“Then I would like to carry on his mission.”

“I’m not a child, Orion.”

“I understand that. I merely wish for your safety, [Name],” he explains earnestly. “And… I would prefer not to part from the company most dear to me.”

Your thoughts drift back to something he said earlier—how he recognized the bond you once shared, even though this was your first conversation. He hadn’t recognized Ratchet or anyone from his team—only you.

You tried to put yourself in his position. To suddenly find yourself in a foreign place, surrounded by strangers addressing you by a false name and feeding you information that might as well be fiction. And then, in a world where nothing is familiar, someone steps in—someone you vaguely recognize. You might not know their name, but you know there was once a connection. Wouldn’t you cling to that tiny thread, desperately pulling it closer if someone tried to take it away?

Orion had found solid ground, and you were unintentionally trying to undermine it. You exhale softly. You already knew you’d be saying goodbye to sleep tonight.

“Alright.” His smile makes it all worth it. It’s as though you’ve handed him a star from the sky. “Let’s see what Ratchet has to say about all this.”

"I see no objections."

Orion looks at you with excitement sparkling in his optics.

"Wow, that was quick."

"It's a good excuse for Orion to explore the area and get accustomed to his alt mode."

The medic refrains from adding that if the former leader remained at the base, he would likely have wasted away in longing for you, lamenting to every sentient being that he couldn't wait to see you again. Though the comment teeters on the edge of his glossa, he opts for discretion. Optimus, at least, had never vocalized his peculiar obsession with you quite so openly.

"Should anything unusual occur, contact me immediately. Someone will come for you in the morning," Ratchet advises his friend before turning to you. "Good night, [Name]."

You thank the medic for his diligence and ask him to take some rest, earning a piercing glare that almost feels lethal, then retrieve your backpack and head toward the tunnel. Orion stays close by, not leaving your side even after transforming. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door for you, visibly delighted at the prospect of your first shared drive together. In his mind, this was more than a mere drive—it was a deeply intimate act, almost akin to inviting a partner into one’s private space.

But his dreams are promptly shattered when you inform him that you have your own car.

The journey is uneventful but nerve-wracking; you constantly check your side mirror to ensure Orion is still following you. Thankfully, there are no issues, and he even remembers to use his turn signals when necessary. Everything proceeds smoothly until you pull into your driveway and are struck by a dreadful realization: Will a Peterbilt even fit in my garage?

You park your car to the side, leaving Orion enough space to drive safely. Exiting your vehicle, you open the garage door and wave at him to proceed. You nervously bite your thumb, watching the massive truck carefully edge into the space. There are barely three centimeters between the roof of the truck and the ceiling. When you close the garage door, the already limited space shrinks further.

"So, do you regret your decision now?" you ask, stepping around to the front of the truck.

Orion transforms with meticulous precision, carefully positioning his limbs and helm to avoid damaging the walls. The process goes well until his helm grazes the ceiling with an audible thud, dislodging a few small pieces of debris. He winces slightly and rubs his helm but offers you a warm smile.

"I do not regret my decision."

"Pfff, well, that's good. Are you all right?"

"I am unharmed."

You can’t help but feel guilty for confining him to such a cramped space, but it was his choice. If he insisted, he would simply have to endure it. Of course, that meant you would have to endure it, too, as the issues began almost immediately.

"All right, I’m going to grab my things. I’ll be back in a moment."

He panics again—something you’re beginning to expect from him.

"Please, do not leave me."

His voice is unchanging. A deep and thick baritone that permeates your body, speaking straight to your soul. It is strange to hear the same voice coming out of a shamed and uncertain being, begging you for company.

"I’ll only be gone for two minutes."

You reach for the door handle, but his servo shoots forward, blocking your exit.

"Orion," you chide, your tone sharp and reprimanding.

He doesn’t meet your eyes, his apprehension laid bare.

"Please, I do not wish to be alone."

"Two minutes," you say firmly, though your annoyance falters when you see the raw emotion in his optics. Sighing, you place a hand on the edge of his digit, catching his attention. "I’ll be back. I promise."

He believes you, of course he does. He trusts you to return, yes, he even knows it. It doesn't change the fact that he is frightened, he feels alone, and your proximity calms the storm raging through his processor. His whole body is clamoring for you, screaming for you to stay with him. He craves bodily contact, he wants your soft hands to stroke his metal and your lips to whisper sweet nothings. He wants more, he wants to feel the softness, more, more, more.

He takes his servo away.

"Good mech."

As you disappear through the door, Orion buries his face in his hands. Despite his embarrassment, he can’t suppress a grin. He had enjoyed that moment—far too much.

He wants to hear you say it again.

When you return, you’re carrying a blanket, a deck of UNO cards, some snacks, and your laptop. Orion beams at the sight of you but frowns when he notices you shivering.

"Are you cold?" he asks with concern.

"Hmm? A little, but I’ll warm up soon."

Without warning, he gently scoops you up in his servo, handling you with the utmost care. The shock is brief—you don’t even have time to protest before he places you on his chassis. His servo remains loosely wrapped around you as a precaution, but your back presses against his warm metal frame. Tilting your head up to glare at him for pulling such a stunt, you find him already watching you, amusement dancing in his optics.

"Ask next time before you do something like that," you scold lightly.

"I make no promises," he teases, earning a playful flick to his digit.

"I was planning to play UNO, but since you pulled that move, let’s watch a movie instead. Unless you’d rather do something else?"

"I leave myself entirely at your mercy."

He would have been content doing nothing as long as he could hold you close.

"All right, then. A movie it is."

It's hard for him to keep up with the plot when he's overstimulated, but he tries, because your questions encouraging discussion come out of nowhere. And it was just at moments when he started to drift off, when the optics shifted from the tiny screen to you; when there was only you and him in the world. Sometimes, however, he would focus for longer, especially during the romantic scenes. He longs to experience something similar with you, an indestructible, sappy love. To recite poetry into your ear and watch you blush, to announce to everyone how much you mean to him. To bestow expensive gifts, the geodes you mentioned earlier. He needs your tender words, your praise, your touch. You could do whatever you liked with him, and he would give you his spark.

He worries when you fall silent for too long.

"[Name]?" he calls softly, leaning closer to check on you. Relief washes over him when he sees you’ve simply fallen asleep. Poor thing—you must have been exhausted.

Still, a part of him resents it. He wanted to talk to you longer, watch more films, learn more about human romance to win your favor. But he knows his thoughts are selfish. Setting the laptop aside, he carefully covers you with his other servo, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety.

He's not sure he'll be able to recharge. At least not now, when he was too absorbed in devouring you with his optics. You felt safe with him. You gave him your trust. You chose him.

A spark of possessiveness sweeps through his processor. He doesn't want to let you go. He doesn't want you to go to work tomorrow and leave him for eternity. He also knows he shouldn't think that way. The spark goes out.

Watching you sleep, his processor churns with thoughts. You trusted him. He vows to prove his worth tomorrow, to show you just how deep his feelings run.

Because he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be himself. How much longer he will remain as Orion Pax.

[dream-with-a-fever]

ron weasley did not

come to privet drive to rescue harry from his abusive home after he hadn’t been replying to any of his letters and he was worried

almost back out of following the spiders bc they’re his biggest fear, but upon seeing hermione’s empty seat at dinner, find the courage to go

defend hermione from any and everyone who called her a mudblood

constantly worry about hermione’s workload (especially in 3rd year) and notice that whenever she disappeared

offer to teach hermione his entire family tree so that she could pretend to be pure blood to keep her safe from death eaters

defend harry to everyone (percy, seamus, half the school) when everyone thought he was lying about voldemort’s return

stand up on his broken leg in front of harry and say that “if you want to kill harry, you’ll have to kill us first!” to what they believed to be a raving lunatic mass murderer

gift dobby his newest weasley jumper and the new socks he got given for christmas

stand up against snape when he was bullying hermione (and got a detention as a result)

beg the deatheaters who were torturing hermione to “leave her alone!! take [him], have [him] instead!”

always check up on his friends when he notices something is up, even if it’s in subtle ways

immediately befriend harry on the train in ps and teach him about the wizarding world

write to charlie immediately so he could help hagrid out of trouble (re the dragon, norbert)

encourage neville to stand up to people, and praise him when he actually does it

help harry put on his pajamas after he broke his arm during quidditch

have to be physically restrained from attacking malfoy after he said he wished hermione had died in cos

worry about harry’s preoccupation with the mirror of erised and how it was affecting him

remind hermione to eat her meals and get a good night’s sleep when she’s studying 24/7 for their owl exams

display acute levels of emotional intelligence in the way he interacts with harry and hermione, essentially being the glue that keeps them all together

get splinched almost in half, lose blood and suffer agonising pain but seem more worried about the cattermoles and whether or not they were okay

realise his mistakes & own up to them, acknowledging his role in certain falling outs (especially in deathly hallows)

be genuinely hilarious and fun, and lighten the load in everyone else’s’ lives with the humour he brings to

write to his mother in ps asking her to give harry presents too because he doesn’t think he’ll received any

go to the department of mysteries to help harry without a second a thought

go on the run with harry to hunt for horcruxes without a second thought

run to hermione’s aid when malfoy hits her with a nasty hex outside snape’s classroom and take her to the hospital wing

help hermione with buckbeak’s appeal, spending hours upon hours reading up on the case

extend the first olive branch after fighting with hermione because of scabber’s “death” and apologising, after which she then apologises too

demand to re-try out for the position of keeper on the quidditch team because he wanted to earn it himself with no favouritism or help

choose to stay on the quidditch team despite the bullying from the slytherin team and his nerves about his flying ability

stand up to malfoy at every opportunity, when he was insulting him, but more importantly, insulting his family & his friends

save harry’s life in dh by pulling him out of the lake, and then kill the horcrux

remember the houseelves during the battle of hogwarts and worry about their safety

continue to admire and adore his older twin brothers despite the fact that they were sometimes cruel to him

become almost annoyingly protective of his little sister (ESPECIALLY after the diary situation)

single-handedly out smart and escape five armed and deadly snatchers

try his best to overcome his insecurities and feelings of being overlooked, in order to support the people around him

sacrifice himself without a second thought during the chess game in ps because he knew harry’s survival was more important than his

for y’all to speak on him the way you do. calling him cruel, evil, selfish etc??? open your fucking eyes

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ CAPITANO: husband headcanons ♡

pairing: capitano x afab!reader/you warnings: reader is addressed as 'wife', canon and modern!au cho's note: the kinich one did rlly good, so now lets try it with our big boi hehe. happy reads everyone! lmk if u guys want an nsfw ver. of either/both characters ;3

this man is the definition of YEARNING.

he wasnt comfortable with the label of him being your boyfriend. with all his eternal affection and love for you? to just be a mere boyfriend? absolutely not. he just HAD to be your husband. proposed the moment he realized he loved you.

definitely proposed with a big stone :p

wears his ring 24/7 and kisses it whenever your not around and he misses you dearly.

he abuses the power of his mask and never misses the chance to stare and just admire your beauty. underneath his mask his eyes are full of love and admiration for you.

discreetly clingy. if your going out somewhere he wants to go with you 'to keep you safe' or he 'needed to pass by that area later anyway'.

hates taking off his helmet, but never stops you from sliding it off of his head to shower him with praise.

his nicknames for you are my love, dear, darling, prince/princess

his love language for you is physical touch, and words of affirmation

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your forehead, lips, the palm of your hands and your knuckles.

engraved your initials into his sword, and because of that he makes sure he takes good care of it always.

his kisses are always slow and intimate.

he is a quick-kisses or pecks HATER. he has to kiss you for atleast 10 seconds. he doesn't care if hes late, if theres someone right infront of you— he kisses you like its the last time, everytime.

more of a listener than a speaker

he likes to go on dates or do activities with you where you both have to talk to eachother a lot. like fine dining dates, late night walks or driving!

very touchy in private. he likes to snake his arm around your waist, pull your hair to the side and kiss the back of your neck.. hes just addicted to praising and carressing your body.

ever since he married you, he absolutely despises overtime. he gets bossier and meaner to his subordinates when he realizes he might have to stay a little later to supervise them. sometimes he even leaves his job or his expeditions early just to get home to you.

frequently brings you gifts. a bouquet of rare flowers, a jewelry set with special ore customized just for you, lavish wine.. you name it.

never wants to argue with you. the second you tell him he's wrong, he just immediately agrees with you, spewing "yes ma'am." "your absolutely right. i didn't think of it properly.. apologies my love."

ever since he married you, he likes to subtly flex he has you as his wife.

"Sorry, i must end this conversation early. My wife is waiting on my presence." and you can just HEAR how cocky he is to say that.

writes you longgggg letters when he has to get away from business for awhile.

regarding his letters, he made you scribble/draw a design which he got custom made to become his wax seal for said letters :) a very keen man

got you a coat matching his own!

when your crying, he likes to hug you in silence, just letting you soak him in your tears. when you've calmed down, he tells you hes there to listen if you want to talk about your feelings, and theres no problem of yours hes not willing to help you solve. in his mind, your pain is his own, and he'll always be there to support you through any troubles.

very possessive. he wants people to know your his, and hes yours.

princess treatment on TOP. carries you easily when your tired of walking, idly massages your hands or feet when your both lounging together, regularly brings you flowers

during misunderstandings, he likes to take a minute of silence to compose himself and his thoughts to make sure he doesnt say anything he doesnt mean

likes to properly sit down with you to talk out problems between the both of you, and keeps an open mind. he doesnt rush you or cut you off when your talking about your feelings, and lets you know hes present and he cares about how you feel

takes extra time and effort after an argument to remind you he loves you.

overall, capitano is a very romantic lover despite his cold resolve, and honors your wishes with his life.