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pretty-little-mind33 · 6 months ago

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dbf Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary: Your dad sends Logan over to help you build some furniture in your new apartment, unaware you'll end up with Logan's head in between your thighs.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: swearing, mean!logan, dom!logan, sub!reader, possessive!reader, fictional age gap (reader is early twenties), praise, degradation, unprotected sex, mentions of not being on the pill, oral sex (f and m receiving), power dynamics, kinda dubious consent in the beginning but not really lol, sweet aftercare

~ i have no clue what i'm doing with his character 🥲 be kind pls ~

LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

"No that's what I told him," you chuckle, holding your phone to your ear as you struggle to open one of your moving boxes with the scissors in your other hand. Your friend on the other line returns your chuckle and continues to ask her nosey questions.

You're interrupted by a sharp knock. "One second, my dad's here! He's helping me move some of my furniture around and also assemble them—" you say and leap over some other moving boxes to your front door.

"Hi Da–" you exclaim, holding the door open only your voice suddenly becomes stuck in your throat when you see that this certainly isn't your dad. Your eyes round and your hand falters on your phone. The man before you is one of your dad's closest friends.

"Logan," you whisper, which earns a questioning remark from your friend in your ear and you press your hand over your phone's microphone.

Logan pulls his dangling cigar from his mouth, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips and heading for you. You cough and he smirks. He's towering over you, dressed in a casual pair of dark denim jeans, a thick gold-trimmed belt, and a white tank top that accentuates his muscles. You look away in an attempt to ignore that familiar stirring in your stomach.

"Your Daddy sent me." Logan's voice is hoarse as he looks you over. You feel exposed in the baggy shirt and tiny shorts you're dressed in. "I was in around anyways and he mentioned you needed someone's help with some furniture," he peers in behind you at the mess you'd made of your new apartment.

"Mm. Came round' to help a lady out—" he reaches over and hangs up your phone for you. He shakes it and smirks, "Rude to be on the phone when you have visitors, honey."

You stare at Logan again, taking him in. Your stomach fills with familiar butterflies from your schoolgirl crush but if your dad trusts Logan, you should too. "That's very kind," you say honestly and let him inside, taking your phone and setting it on the counter. You pull up your shirt to cover more of your shoulder and curse your choice to go braless this morning.

You point to all the boxes and the array of furniture in the living room as you walk. "Well, this is all of it," you say and turn to him, watching as his knuckles flex.

Logan hums as he looks around and then down at you. "Now why don't you fetch me a cold beer, sweet girl, so that I can start on this," he moves an Ikea box with his foot, "pink vanity," he smirks.

You feel warmth in your cheeks but don't argue with him as you walk to the kitchen. You aren't gone for long as you come back with his beer. Logan stands directly in front of you, a screwdriver in his palm.

His lips curl upwards and you pray he hadn't heard you. "D'you have any more screws, honey?" he asks you simply, tilting his head.

You nod, looking through a drawer to find him some more screws.

Overall, it takes Logan only two hours to set up your vanity, desk, and some other shelves as well as move your furniture around just how you want it. You're sitting curled up on your couch, trying so hard not to stare at Logan's arms as he wipes some sweat from his brow, and finishes the last touch-ups on some of your shelves.

"Shit," you suddenly jump up, "I'm late! It's Cam's house-warming party! I-" you're interrupted by a strong hand suddenly wrapping around your arm, causing a shiver up your spine, and your breath hitches when Logan roughly pulls you into him.

"Is that all?" he whispers, his lips near your ear, and you whimper. That only makes Logan tighten his hold as he leans down, his face in your hair as he inhales your scent and chuckles darkly, "I come here on my own time, to help you and you don't have the decency to say a simple thank you? Tsk, how disappointing."

"T-thank you," you say instantly, squirming as your cheeks warm and your heart pounds in your chest. You feel him pressed up behind you as he keeps you still. It's intoxicating and you're slightly scared.

He knows it too. He can smell it on you.

Logan spins you around, his hand coming up to your cheek as he looks you over.

"Has your dad never taught you any manners?" he asks calmly as he observes your reaction to his words. You feel small under his gaze. Logan looks so intimidating now as his hands find your hair and he pulls it back, smirking when you whine in pain.

"No," he hums, "you're not leaving this apartment yet. Someone has to teach you a lesson in respect, you fuckin' brat."

Your heart is pounding, staring at him with those round glossy eyes he loves so much. You feel your arousal pool in your stomach and shame consumes you. Logan's lips curl cruelly and he shifts closer, his body pressed to yours as his other hand crushes the sides of your mouth as he sees the tears stream down your cheeks. "You look much fuckin' prettier like this—with your eyes all glossy and dumb," he smirks and continues, "Now why don't you sit down like a good girl and tell me exactly how much cock you've taken."

Logan drops your jaw and pulls out a chair for himself as you sink onto the couch again. He straddles the chair from behind, crossing his arms, and fakes a pout as he leans his chin on his forearm. "I wonder just how much can your pussy take, huh? Six inches? Seven?"

It feels mean. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, shrinking into the cushions.

Logan smiles. "Because I can, and I want to," he shrugs, "And I think you want this too. No, I know you want this too."

"I don't want this, whatever this is! I'm telling my dad—"

Logan chuckles darkly, "Your threats don't scare me," he tilts his head, "and do you know why, honey?"

You glare at him, refusing to shake your head so he continues, "Because I know your cunt is dripping right now, am I right? I can fucking smell you from here," His words travel to your core and you squeeze your thighs on instinct. Logan sees this motion and smirks, "You can pretend all you want, but I know that look in your eyes. I've seen it enough times to know you're just like all the other girls; horny and desperate."

You feel overwhelmed as his words make you feel so good, your chest heaves as you watch him. Logan stands, smirking as he walks over and unbuckles his belt. He wastes no time, making a clicking sound to indicate that he wants you to unzip him. You just continue to stare at him, unable to wrap your head around that this is happening.

"Hurry up, sweet girl, I don't have all damn day. Thank me properly."

"Logan—"

"Don't you pull the virgin bullshit, Y/n. I know you've been fucked. You're too much of fucking dirty slut not to have had someone's dick inside you," he chuckles deeply and earns a small whimper from you as embarrassment settles in your stomach. "Now make me feel good."

You sink to your knees, eyes still glossy as you fumble with his zipper. As much as you wish this wasn't hot to you, your pussy is screaming at you that she needs Logan. Logan seems to know because he smiles.

"Your poor cunt needs me, huh?" he teases and takes himself out of his pants, stroking himself as pre-cum beads at his tip. "I'll reward her if you're good for me."

You lean forwards and he smears his cum on your lips, enjoying the look of you on your knees for him as you service him. He's impressive and every time he pushes into your throat, you cough a little and pull away, your eyes becoming watery.

"I'm sorry," you whisper after a while, succumbing to him just like he wants as your voice quivers.

Logan pets your hair, soothing his large thumb across your forehead. "Shhh, my sweet girl, I'll take care of you."

And he means it because he wastes no time in having you sprawled across your new couch, legs spread wide as his tongue flicks across your clit, lifting the hood. He's enjoying the way you wail behind your hands, tightening your thighs around his head. He pushes your thighs apart, bruising them to his liking as he laps at your cunt.

"L-Logan," you whimper, your eyes rolling back in your head. You need him. "Please," you say and attempt to sit up, your makeup smudged from his rough kissing and your hair a mess. Your mouth tastes like Logan's cum and your pussy is aching for his cock inside it.

"Fuck, you're such a mess," Logan smirks, licking your juices from his lips. "Thank me again."

"Thank you for helping me," you whine, arching up. "Please, need you."

Logan stands and strokes himself again, caging you in with his muscular arms and the tip of his cock glides over your clit and then your entrance. You mewl, nails gripping his arms as you cry from both the overstimulation and also the restraint he's shown.

He grunts as he pushes inside, going inch by inch so you can feel all of him. He peppers kisses across your jaw andwhispers sweet nothings into your ear. You're a whiny mess, drool falling from your lips as your mouth is perpetually open as you moan, feeling the delicious stretch of Logan's cock.

How can something so wrong feel so right?

"Your Daddy will kill me, honey," he whispers as he kisses behind your ear, his thrusts starting slow and precise. "Defiling his baby girl like this—fucking her perfect cunt," he grins, "only you aren't his baby girl anymore, hm? You're mine. All mine." He sinks his teeth into your neck, grinning as he marks you.

"Mhm, yes, I'm yours, all yours."

Logan's thrusts become deeper and harsher. "Fucked the brat right out of you."

His kisses continue as he's fucking you roughly, enjoying the sound of your small whines because he knows he's making you feel so good. Finally, you come around him and wrap your arms around him, tears staining your cheeks as you tremble. Logan follows, emptying himself inside you.

"I'm not on the pill," you sniffle, too hazy to truly think of the consequences.

Logan can't help the way his heart leaps with excitement at this information but he pushes it down. He can't do that to you. Not now at least.

He pulls out, thinking of the mess you'd both made later as he kisses your lips. He's tender this time and he strokes his hand in your hair again. "I'm going to run to the store and get you a plan B, m'okay?"

He sees how fucked out you look and he grins, caressing his knuckles down the apples of your soft cheeks. "My sweet girl, look at you, so messy."

You frown, eyes droopy. "It's your fault," you whine.

Logan chuckles deeply and removes himself from on top of you, picking you up effortlessly in his arms. "I know, sweet girl, I know. You made your bed, hm?" he whispers and you snuggle instinctively in his arms. You nod. He kisses your forehead again, his body relaxing with yours.

"I'm going to take care of you now, honey—" he promises, "—you're mine. All mine."

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multicohn · 4 months ago

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summary: fans don’t like lando’s new girlfriend because how scary and emotionless she looks, but he could care less.

warnings: mention of fans not liking the reader

pairing: fem! reader x lando norris

genre: fluff, short one shot, established relationship

face claim: none

author note: lowkey kinda sucks. i don’t have much motivation to write rn but i wanted to upload something 🥲

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the couple had only been dating for only eight months before lando decided to reveal his girlfriend to the public. y/n had no problem with keeping it a secret since they were both unsure if their relationship would even work given the busy schedules they had, but through a lot of communication they managed to make it work. however, fans weren’t very happy since y/n always looked emotionless or angry on screen and in photos despite lando having a giant smile on his face that could rival all might’s ( my hero academia reference ) when he’s beside her. his fans were very vocal about how they felt about her, but neither of them cared.

the british grand prix was only a few days away and ever since they started dating, lando had dreamed of having her being by his side. however, y/n ( had exams that weekend / couldn’t get time off work ). he tried not to show that he was upset, brushing it off with a simple; "well, there's always next year", but y/n knew him too well and knew how much this race meant to him. any other race would have been understandable, but this was the british grand prix.

when lando arrived on thursday, he was immediately greeted by cameras, microphones, and merchandise being shoved at him from every direction.

"you look a little down, lando. not a fan of the weather?" it was quite cloudy that day and the rain was starting to pick up, but it was far from the reasoning behind his mood

"just didn't get a good sleep"

"oh?"

y/n had gone to bed much earlier than usual, saying she needed all the energy she possibly could for tomorrow. lando inquired about what was so important, but she refused to tell him. he had stayed up last night and wondered about what was happening; was her exam worth much more than he realised? / did her job have a special work thing going on that he doesn't remember?

lando sighed deeply as he made his way inside the hospitality area. his hand itching to grab his phone and text y/n despite knowing that she would be busy.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n had lied.

she knew how much this race in particular meant to lando and she wasn’t going to miss it, but the thought of surprising him made her lie about school / work.

unfortunately, her plan slightly backfired as she was going to surprise lando when he finished his practice session, but the weather delayed everything.

shrugging it off, y/n entered the garage to find her boyfriend dressed in his race suit with a windbreak over top and looked to be dozing off in a chair.

“lando” y/n tapped his shoulder gently as she sat down beside him

“oh, hey baby” he commented while staring at her sleepily

. . .

he suddenly shot out of his chair making those around them jump in fright at the sudden movement.

“y/n?” lando rubbed his eyes. sure that his brain is still asleep and making him hallucinate

“yeah?”

“am i dreaming?” she rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the tv where they were showing fans who were in colourful ponchos or raincoats

she almost laughed at seeing someone’s poncho decorated with george russell’s face.

however, all emotion left y/n's eyes as her face popped up on the screen before it shifted towards lando who was just dazing at her lovingly.

if they were in a cartoon, his eyes would've been hearts.

she heard some people let out “awes” and they started cooing at the couple making the edges of y/n's lips twitch upwards. she turned to her boyfriend and placed a hand on his cheeks before caressing softly.

once they were no longer on screen, y/n leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend gently.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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d-z20 · 1 month ago

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A Strange Kind of Healing (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You've just broken it off with your good-for-nothing ex and find yourself at your local watering hole mulling things over. That is until a stunning woman catches your eye - and it just so happens that you've caught Agatha's too

- OR -

Turns out she owns the place and takes you back to her office to treat you right (i.e. giving you all the validation you need as she fucks you)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, top Agatha, fingering (R recv), little bit of biting, hint of soft Agatha but she's cocky too, mentions of a shitty ex, mentions of body worship-ish, obligatory sprinkling of praise

Words: 2k

A/N: Y'all want to know what's been causing my writers block? The mf word murmur. I couldn't find a synonym that felt right 🥲 Fic request

AO3 | Masterlist

The low hum of conversation fills Agnes’, your local bar; it’s dimly lit and the kind of place that feels both intimate and mysterious. The air smells faintly of aged whisky and citrus, and the amber glow from the sconces flickers softly against the polished wood of the bar top. You’re nursing your second drink, fingers trailing lazily over the rim of your glass, when you feel her presence before you even see her.

A throaty laugh cuts through the chatter, and you glance up. There she is: dark, tousled hair, piercing eyes framed by delicate wrinkles, and a smirk that could melt glass. Her confidence radiates from every movement as she leans on the bar, chatting with the bartender. Dressed in a tailored black blazer and slim pants, she looks effortlessly sharp, her shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease. You’ve seen striking women before, but she’s on a different level—someone who knows exactly how powerful her presence is.

You turn back to your drink, unsure whether you want to be noticed, but it’s too late. When you glance back up, she’s looking right at you, her smirk shifting into something softer, more curious. She saunters over, a glass of deep red wine in hand.

“This seat taken?” She asks, her voice smooth like velvet but with an edge of mischief.

You shake your head, suddenly feeling exposed under her gaze. “Not at all.”

She slides onto the stool beside you, and the scent of her—smoke and something floral—makes your head swim.

“Rough night?” She asks, nodding toward your drink. Her tone is casual, but her eyes search yours, seeing far more than you’d like.

You hesitate, then sigh. “Something like that. Let’s just say my choice in partners has been questionable at best.”

“Mm,” she hums, tilting her head. “Let me guess: selfish, inattentive, and couldn’t find your clit even if they had a map and a flashlight?”

Your laugh bursts out before you can stop it, and she grins, clearly pleased.

“Am I wrong?” she presses.

“No, not even a little.” You shake your head, still smiling despite yourself. “It’s been a long time coming, though. I should’ve ended it ages ago.”

“Then here’s to fresh starts,” she says, lifting her glass in a toast. You clink yours against hers, the sound crisp and bright.

She doesn’t hesitate. “I’m Agatha,” she introduces herself smoothly, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Y/N,” you reply, feeling a bit warmer with each passing moment.

—

For the next hour, the conversation flows easily. She’s sharp-witted and shamelessly flirty, but there’s a warmth beneath her teasing that keeps you hooked. She’s funny, too, in that dry, irreverent way that makes you forget everything else. By the time she stands and offers her hand, you’re more than willing to follow her lead.

“Come with me,” she says, her smile promising something you desperately need.

You hesitate only a moment before slipping your hand into hers. Her grip is firm and the way she leads you through the bar, unapologetically confident, makes your pulse race. She doesn’t head for the exit but instead takes you through a discreet door near the back with ‘Employees Only’ written across it. The hallway beyond is quieter, the muffled hum of the bar fading behind you.

“You work here?” You ask, confused as to why she was drinking if she was on shift.

“Honey, I own the place,” she says, glancing back with a sly grin. “One of the perks is having a private office for... moments like these.”

The door to her office swings open, and you barely have time to take in the sleek yet cosy space—a large desk, a leather couch, shelves lined with books and vintage bottles of liquor—before she’s pulling you inside. The door clicks shut, and then her hands are on you, firm but not forceful, cradling your face as her lips find yours.

Her kiss is hot and commanding, her lips soft but unyielding. She tastes of wine and something darker, more rich, and it’s intoxicating. You press against her instinctively, your hands gripping the lapels of her blazer as you lose yourself in her.

She pulls back just enough to whisper, “Tell me if you want to stop.” Her voice is low and serious, despite the heat in her eyes.

“Don’t stop,” you say, breathless. “Please.”

Her smirk returns, but there’s a tenderness there too. She guides you toward the desk, her body pressed onto yours.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your jaw. “Let me show you.”

You barely have time to process her words before she presses you back against the cool, unyielding wood of the desk, her body flush and warm against yours. The sharp edge digs into your thighs, but the discomfort is distant—blurred by the heat of her kiss, searing and all-consuming.

Her hands roam with purpose, sliding over your sides and skimming your waist; her touch is electric. Each brush of her fingertips sends sparks racing across your skin, leaving you hyperaware of every nerve ending. When her hands slip beneath your top to palm at bare skin, a soft gasp escapes your lips. The sound pulls a low hum of approval from her, a vibration you feel against your mouth as she deepens the kiss.

Her hands move lower, tracing the curve of your hips before deftly unfastening your pants. The motion is fluid, confident, like she’s done this a thousand times but still finds the thrill in it. Her lips leave yours, only to trail a slow, deliberate path along your jaw and down your neck. Her breath is warm, teasing against your skin, and every press of her mouth feels like a promise—one she’s intent on keeping.

Her teeth scrape along your collarbone before she bites down, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to make you cry out. The sound earns a growl from her throat, her hands gripping your hips to pull you closer.

Then her hands slide further down, finding your clit with ease. The first circle of her touch steals the breath from your lungs, and your hips move instinctively, arching into her hand, chasing the friction she offers so expertly.

She nips at your earlobe, her voice turning commanding. 'Stay still for me,' she murmurs, her fingers holding your hips in place even as your body twists against her touch.

Your hands fly into her hair, gripping tightly as if to anchor yourself to her. She hums in satisfaction, her lips ghosting over your ear as she whispers, “Let me hear you.”

You let go of your reservations, letting the sounds spill from your lips, each one urging her on. Fingers working you steadily, her rhythm relentless and perfectly tuned to your responses. The pleasure builds with each pass, but a flicker of something else pushes to the surface—an ache for more, for something deeper, something that will tip you over the edge completely.

The thought lingers, teasing the edges of your mind. You want more. You need more. The way her fingers tease and circle feels incredible, but you crave something fuller, something that will truly unravel you. The desire is sharp, but it’s accompanied by doubt, a familiar weight that settles heavily in your chest.

Your ex’s voice echoes unbidden in your mind, a memory of every time they dismissed your needs, every time they made you feel like asking for more was too much. The hesitation claws at you, tightening your throat even as the heat in your core builds.

Her lips press against your collarbone, the soft warmth of her mouth drawing you back to the present. “You’re so perfect,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice reverent, her fingers never faltering. “So responsive. Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want to give it to you.”

Her words pierce through the haze of doubt, cutting through the insecurities threatening to hold you back. You hesitate, your body trembling beneath her touch, before finally forcing the words past your lips, shaky but audible. “I want... more,” you whisper, your voice barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

She stills for the briefest moment, lifting her head to meet your gaze. Her eyes are soft, filled with warmth and a quiet intensity that steals your breath anew. “More?” she repeats gently, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “Show me what you mean.”

Your hand trembles as you guide her, positioning her fingers so they’re at your entrance. She watches you carefully, her gaze steady and unyielding, and when she pushes them in, the effect is immediate. Your body jerks, a moan spilling from your lips that you can’t hold back. Her smile widens, a slow, wicked curve that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

“Like this?” she asks, her tone low and smoky as she begins to move with a new purpose.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching at her, pulling her closer. “Exactly like that.”

Her mouth finds yours again, capturing your gasps and moans as her rhythm intensifies, driving you higher and higher. All thoughts of your ex, of hesitation and doubt, dissolve under the force of her touch, replaced by nothing but sensation and the raw, undeniable connection between you.

Agatha’s fingers curl a couple of inches in, pressing firmly in a way that makes you see stars. She strokes you deliberately, her fingers slipping deeper, dragging over that spot with precision. Each thrust makes you gasp, the slick heat of her movements leaving no doubt as to how much she’s undoing you.

Your back arches, a broken cry escaping your lips as your body clenches around her. She doesn’t stop; if anything, the precision of her touch sharpens, the rhythm of her movements intensifying.

“You’ve never had this, have you?” She taunts gently, her fingers curling harder. “Someone who knows exactly what you need.”

Her free hand braces against the desk, holding you in place as her other works relentlessly, her fingers stroking that spot with devastating accuracy. The pressure builds with each thrust, a relentless wave climbing higher and higher. Agatha’s movements become faster and harder, her palm pressing against your clit in just the right way, amplifying the delicious friction.

Each thrust of her hand makes the desk creak beneath you, the rhythmic scrape of its legs against the floor a staccato beat in time with the growing tension coiling deep within you. The wet, rhythmic sound of her fingers fills the room, mixing with your ragged breaths. It’s messy, overwhelming, and utterly obscene, and it drives her to press even harder.

The coil tightens, winding impossibly taut, and then—like a thread pulled too tight—it snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and all-consuming, stealing the air from your lungs. You cry out her name, your hands clutching desperately at her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you ride out the waves of pleasure that ripple through you, each one stronger than the last.

“You’re doing so good,” she growls, her smirk widening. “Let me hear you. I want everyone in this bar to know who’s making you feel like this."

Your body trembles uncontrollably, your thighs quaking against her as she works you through the aftershocks. Her lips hover at the curve of your neck, planting soft, grounding kisses. When she speaks, her voice is low, thick with awe.

“Perfect,” she hums, her breath hot against your ear. “Every inch of you.”

Her words send a shiver through you, warmth pooling in your chest even as your limbs remain boneless and spent. You’re panting, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you cling to her. The heat of her body pressed against yours is grounding, her hand still resting against your waist as her lips trail along your jaw in languid, soothing caresses.

Finally, she eases back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing over your cheek. Her eyes search yours, and what you find there—a mix of tenderness and pride—makes your chest ache in the best way.

“You okay?” She asks, her voice low, the edge of it rough with lingering desire.

You nod, still catching your breath, and a small smile curls at her lips, warm and genuine. She leans in, brushing her lips gently against your temple before pulling you into her arms. Her next words make your chest tighten in the best way.

“Whoever let you go,” she murmurs, her thumb grazing your cheek with infinite care, “was a fool.”

-----

I had to pull on every 'cares for another person' Agatha moment to write this and there wasn't a lot to go on 😂

-----

Taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 (let me know if you want to be added)

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you-know-honey · 2 months ago

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omggg i see you are taking viktor x reader requests and i am in desperate need of something relatively cute and fluffy after act 3 🥲

i’ve had this idea for ages where once viktor and the reader starts dating, viktor just generally starts being healthier and a little better? even though his leg is still the same he is stronger and in less pain (he really deserves this come onnn).because he is totally smitten by the reader he is spending loads of time with them which ends up to him getting more rest, eating better, etc. the reader maybe does subtle things to encourage that but in some ways it happens naturally. (although i’ve seen some scenarios where the reader helps viktor with massages/physio and that is so wholesome too)

maybe he is talking to the reader after some months of dating, sharing how he feels better in his body and how he wants to actively try to be better? like, before his work was his whole life and he had kinda given up on his health - he just wanted to make the most progress in whatever time he had. but now he wants to spend the rest of his life with the reader and is willing to fight for it (and come on that will also help him work more anyway)

thought it was a cute idea and i love your work so i’d love to see your take on this!!! ❤️

Hanging in Your Hands

Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5K

2/2→→→

Viktor finds in you a love that subtly transforms him: without realizing it, he begins to take better care of himself, rest better and relieve his pain, all thanks to the peace you bring him. Finding a way to show you what he could never do with words.

N/A: English is not my native language, feel free to correct me in the comments and I will update it. Remember to share and comment if you liked it. Endnotes.

The cold of the early morning began to creep in through the window, giving your body chills from head to toe. You didn't want to wake up, you felt like you had barely slept a second after so much work.

You couldn't get anything more than a superficial sleep that ended even with the walking of an ant on your neighbor's floor. The bed felt too big for some reason and there was no pillow to hug that didn't make you feel terribly alone. You sighed, knowing it would be another long night, you went down to the kitchen to get some tea to sleep, if getting high was the only way to fall asleep so be it. While you watched the steam come out of your cup you leaned against the wall of the hallway, looking at your empty room. You couldn't help but let your imagination fly to a corner where you didn't want it to be, the darkness emulated with the shadows a sleeping figure on one side of the bed and your mind quickly gave it shape and name...Viktor.

NO.

You shook your head to get that image out of your mind, being in love with your boss was already a silly thing, you shouldn't even think about something like that. But... you couldn't help it, you liked to imagine him around the apartment, like your own homely fantasy.

The violent knocking from the other side of the front door brought you out of your little daydream. You pulled the blankets tighter around you, it wasn't time for visitors.

“Y/N!” Sky’s voice called from the other side of the door, she seemed agitated and in total panic.

You quickly rushed to open the door, finding your friend and coworker in tears and as pale as a sheet of paper.

“Sky? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You rushed to take her inside and sit her on the couch as she tried to catch her breath.

“It’s Viktor, he’s in the hospital, he fainted and… and he started bleeding! He won’t wake up!”

Sky said something else, but your mind refused to continue listening. You could feel your entire body turning into glass and shattering, your heart had stopped suddenly before beating desperately again.

That night was the worst night of your life. You don’t remember what happened exactly, you just remember dressing up in one of your long work jackets to hide your pajamas, not even bothering to put on shoes, arriving at the hospital and searching every room in desperation only to find him intubated and still unconscious on a stretcher, he looked so pale, so feverish, his hands were cold and stiff as a stone, his hair was wet with sweat and the nurses hadn’t cleaned the stain of dried blood that spread across his cheek and lips like a crimson river. You don’t know how long you cried that night. You only remember clinging to his body until the nurses basically ripped you from his side. It was the first time you truly thought you would lose him, the first time you saw what his illness could do to him.

Time passed, a lot of time indeed. Viktor had a long recovery process after such a hard relapse and was prescribed, in his opinion, the worst of medications. Rest. Instructions that he clearly hadn't intended to follow, but you didn't think the same. He didn't know when or how but you simply kicked the chained door of his heart and like a spoiled child you refused to leave. But he liked it that way. During his long stay in the hospital he hadn't stopped working and the doctors were really considering tying him to the bed, like a guardian angel there you were, reading his books for him and writing in his notebook by the side of his stretcher, making sure he took his medications and vitamins until he was ready to get back in the ring. So, gods! It would have been impossible not to fall in love with you.

You made him feel alive, seeing you filled his face with color, he couldn't help but smile and ignore everything that wasn't you, he loved being able to hold your hand, he delighted in the dropped jaws that left when they walked together through the academy. His mind was an unstoppable machine of chaos that only found peace when you were near.

How did he get to that point? He never imagined that someone like him, with his proud attitude and busy mind could attract the attention of someone like you. You... you simply shined. Everything about you seems so simple, so natural. Your laugh, your words, even the way you look at him as he always wanted to be seen, as something more than a man with a cane and too many ideas in his head.

He couldn't help but wonder what you saw in him. Is it his mind that interests you? Or did you just see something he couldn't see in the mirror? Maybe, just maybe, you've seen beyond the walls he built around himself. Beyond the weight of his ambitions.

And yet, for the first time, he feared something more than failure. He doesn't want to lose you.

When he's with you, when his hands touch yours, when you smile after one of his sarcastic comments, everything seems to fit together. For the first time in a long time, he feels like he's not a stranger in his own skin. He feels like, maybe, there's something more to him than just work.

You give him something he can't explain, something that isn't in any formula or prototype. Maybe, for once in his life, it's enough to just feel.

…Wow, he was a genius in love.

Months Later...

The sound of the lab door slamming open loudly caught Jayce's attention as he stretched out in his chair. They had been working all morning.

You walked in with a tray of breakfast and books under your arm.

“You need to grease that door,” you said, as you walked over to his desk. Jayce held the books you asked for and took one of the steaming cups on the tray.

“I'll write it down,” Jayce said, burying his face in the cup, inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. He looked really exhausted. They would have a conference soon and they had to be prepared, even you and Sky had a lot of work to do.

“Have he eaten anything today?” you asked, nodding at the one you can now proudly call your partner, sitting across the lab without even noticing your presence.

“What do you think?” You sighed, it's common for your boyfriend to forget to eat, if breathing wasn't essential you're sure he would forget too.

“Viktor…” you exclaim as you walk up to his desk, his posture in front of it is terrible, a shrimp would be proud of his posture.

He doesn’t seem to hear you, he mutters things as usual while he quickly writes down in his notebook and fiddles around a bit with a design that releases sparks and steam. You can see the inner mechanism, it’s so complex that it makes your head hurt just thinking about having to fix it like he does. There’s something about that stoic concentration he has that really attracts you, you could watch him work all day. You place the tray in one of your hands, balancing it so as not to spill anything and you use the fingers of your free hand to lightly tickle Viktor’s neck, he quickly adjusts his posture, you’re sure you could hear a joint or two creak, letting out a half-gasp. Which you take advantage of by uncovering the delicious breakfast on the tray.

You know he smiles and his gaze softens when the smell of food reaches him, he stops his work and looks at you.

“Good morning” you murmur only for his ears.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said, turning his chair to face you, letting go of his design so easily that even Jayce couldn’t believe it.

“Can’t I take care of my favorite genius?” You shrug, leaving the tray with breakfast on the small mound of leaves on his desk. Changing his empty cup of coffee for a cup of hot tea.

Viktor smiles barely, but there’s something warm in his gaze as he takes the first sip of tea. You’re surprised when he stands up without even making a move to look for his cane, only using his good leg for help. He rests his forehead on your shoulder, you can feel his breath so close that it makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He’s been working since before the sun came up, it’s something you can’t change about him, but seeing you is a huge relief that he doesn’t know he needs until he has you in front of him and can’t help but put everything aside for you. His hands slide under your arms until they grip your back, wrinkling your perfectly ironed shirt and you can feel him finally sigh and let his shoulders slump as if he were carrying lead on them.

That gesture is all he needs to tell you, he is not a man of words and even less so when Jayce is present because he knows that Jayce will use everything he says against him as soon as you walk out the door. He can feel you, the heat emanating from your body makes him feel warm, breathing your perfume is the breeze of fresh air he needs to keep going. If they were alone he would probably kiss you, it is the only motivation he has to make it to the end of the day.

“What? He is your favorite genius? Y/N how do you break my heart like that” Jayce dramatizes from the other side of the room with a huge smile on his face. He loves watching how Viktor basically melts for you but he can’t help but feel like a bad third between the two of you.

You can't help but giggle at the comment. “There's enough room in my heart for both of us.”

Viktor gives a small shake of his head and snorts at your shoulder, it's obvious that he doesn't like the idea.

“Will you have breakfast with me?” he asks as he pulls away from you and drops his weight back into the chair.

You've both had this habit since the hospital, when he barely had the strength to blink and refused to be fed with a g-tube. It was a hard blow to his pride that you had to feed him, but you handled the situation with a lot of respect, and at the end of the day you both always ended up eating all your meals together, it was a moment that you both could enjoy and secretly for you it was a way to make sure he gets something more than caffeine.

You sighed and shook your head. “Not this time.” The look he gave you was as painful as that of a newly abandoned puppy.

“Why not?” he asked, making a colorful gesture with his hands, quite offended.

“Sky and I are still clearing their schedules and getting everything ready for this afternoon’s conference.” You felt guilty and even more so when he gave you that look but if you lied to him it would only make his mind wander to very dark places. “I promise we’ll have dinner together. Will you forgive me this time?” you said, caressing his cheek subtly.

Schedules were something Viktor had very established, something out of that routine irritated him in ways he didn’t understand. Normally and if you were anyone else he would have pushed your hand away and ignored you for the rest of the day but… you weren’t just anyone, he couldn’t get mad at you, he couldn’t even think of a reason that was strong enough to not even look at you with annoyance.

“Just don’t miss it” He replied, enjoying your touch. Forcing you to stay on his cheek a little more for taking your wrist, when it was time for you to leave it was very difficult to let you go.

“Don't forget to take a break, Sabre, if you didn't have lunch.” You walked through the door, giving him one last look before leaving him back in the lab.

“Love is so beautiful,” Jayce mentioned, sighing like a teenager while humming the sound of the newlywed bells.

Viktor rolled his eyes and went back to his table to find his breakfast. The idea of putting it aside and continuing to work crossed his mind, it was what he used to do in the past. Before letting that idea take hold, he stuck his fork in the bacon next to the small bowl of fruit and quickly brought it to his mouth. His taste buds wept with excitement at finally receiving some food after so many hours drowned in coffee, even the breath itself with a certain guilty pleasure. “Shut up, Jayce,” was the only thing he could say before devouring the plate.

“Are you ready? We’re going to be late,” Viktor mentioned, leaning against the outside wall of the lab’s bathroom, with a hanger holding his suit in his hand.

He had been waiting for more than 45 minutes for his lab partner to finish showering and getting dressed. He used to skip all the conferences, especially if they were with the council. It irritated him how certain people with more than limited intellect could have power over his work and what he could and couldn’t do with it. The only reason he started attending was because you were there, both of them could whisper to each other continuously and have a good time being gossips about the other councilors, although of course, there were also times when Jayce called him to the front, when a more raw opinion was needed, without all the flourishes that surrounded Jayce’s speeches.

“Just a second,” Jayce said as he opened the door, in his white and gold suit he finished fixing his hair in the middle of a cloud of masculine perfume.

Viktor just rolled his eyes and made his way into the bathroom, leaving his suit on the rack behind the door, sitting on the closed toilet to wait for Jayce to leave.

“Hurry up,” he said when he saw Jayce smiling at himself in the mirror.

“Someone looks pretty excited to go…” He hummed, “I thought you said conferences were a waste of your precious time…”

“Jayce…” Viktor said in a tone that Jayce understood as a warning accompanied by a stern frown, but the shy blush that crossed his cheeks and the bridge of his nose told him he was right.

“Come on, there’s nothing wrong with saying you like going because your girlfriend is there. If Councilwoman Medarda wasn’t there I wouldn’t want to go either.” Jayce leaned back against the sink. Although it wasn’t exactly the most opportune moment to have a talk.

Girlfriend… Viktor still felt chills when that word was mentioned, he himself wasn’t able to say it yet, it always got stuck in his throat and he blushed like never before, he felt shy just knowing that the one who carried that title was you. When they started dating he was nothing more than a rigid bundle of nerves, holding your hand, hugging you, kissing you or just walking by your side were things he got used to with difficulty, as if he were walking on thin ice, looking for a single rejection reaction from you that would confirm to his anxiety that he had made a false step and should return within his fortified comfort zone. It doesn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy doing those things with you, he did, he loved them, but a part of himself always whispered to him that he didn’t deserve it, that he hadn’t been born for love and that he looked ridiculous pretending he wasn’t like that. It was hard to fight against it, but you never gave up, you knew how to read him like the back of your hand and you knew when he needed time alone and when he needed to melt into you in affection. Now it was clearer than ever that if there was someone who could love him and who he could love back, it was you. Only you.

“Y/N and I know how to separate work from our relationship, our… dating” he savored the words with pride “it doesn’t influence my work.” He couldn’t help but smile silly “Although I admit that her company is always welcome”

Jayce excitedly crossed his arms at his friend and colleague's terrible way of hiding how totally in love he was with you. "Really?" he said raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "So I guess what you've been building for her is part of the 'job'..."

Although Jayce was a little naive he wasn't stupid, of course he had noticed how revitalized Viktor was since he started dating you, he could hardly remember the irritated Viktor who lived all the time in the lab. The night of his relapse he had gone to his mother's house for his birthday, if it weren't for Sky and you he would never have found out what happened and he would never be able to finish thanking you for taking care of him with such love. Jayce knew with total certainty that Viktor was more in love with you than he could ever admit to others or to himself.

“…It’s a gift for her.” There was something of amazement in his words, as if he had never imagined himself saying it. “I read that couples usually give each other gifts sporadically, without reason… I want to do something that does justice to everything she does for me.” He answered as if it were the most logical thing in the world, trying to regain his composure.

“Tell me what it is?” Jayce asked interested, his eyes big like a little boy’s excited to receive a lollipop after the dentist.

“No.” Viktor refused flatly. “I know you, it will come out of your mouth in a some moment.” Jayce felt offended, even more so because it was not a lie.

“But! Come on Victor!” He tried to convince him but the answer was still a constant negative. “Boring.” He sighed giving up. “I’ll wait for you outside, Mr. Romantic.” Jayce managed to escape from the bathroom before Viktor’s sharpness reached him and he walked away laughing.

Viktor sighed when he finally managed to be alone in the bathroom, he put his cane aside, using the sink to support himself and stand up, his leg gave him a small cramp that was reflected on his face and it took him a second to recover and start preparing.

The conference was nothing out of the ordinary, brutally exhausting as always, you felt your feet unbearably tired, avoiding Salo's venomous comments were not for everyone. You should be given a prize for enduring such a thing, you knew that it didn't really matter much to present each project in a thorough manner before the council but according to Councilwoman Medarda, that would make Hextech more trustworthy, being transparent with the creations left no room for doubts or misunderstandings. But that only meant more work for you and Sky, emptying Jayce and Viktor's agendas, planning their speeches and even elaborating the thread of the entire conference, it was definitely the only part you hated about being an attendee.

Jayce had stayed to 'discuss' some matters with Councilwoman Medarda and Sky had taken the first opportunity that presented itself to leave as quickly as he could. That left you and Viktor alone in the hallway heading to the lab for your coats, autumn was already upon the city and the cold was more usual and stronger.

“Is something wrong?” you asked as you saw Viktor’s jaw muttering things to himself, his gaze looking a little lost as you approached the lab.

“Oh, no… I have some things to tidy up in the lab that’s all” He answered trying to lighten the mood. Clearly forgetting that you knew there was nothing to tidy up because… come on… that was your job.

“Can I help you with that?” You said with some disbelief as you reached the door, it was clear from your tone that you didn’t quite believe him.

“No, it’s not necessary. Could you wait for me outside?” Viktor asked, looking a bit nervous, even serious.

“From the door?” you asked, crossing your arms as Viktor left his hand on the door handle. You had never seen him so nervous trying to hide something, especially from you.

“From the academy…” I knew the answer, obviously you would say no.

You sighed heavily, it was late at night and your brain was tired “Viktor if this is a ruse to keep working...”

“No, it’s not that” he interrupted you quickly, his hand moved away from the door handle as if it were a hot iron just to take yours “It will be quick I promise” and there it was, that lazy smile and that sweet look that could convince you to do anything without hesitation, he using his thumb to draw soft circles on the back of your hand. He slowly leaned down to your ear to whisper “I can’t wait to go home with you, this will just be a… slight setback. I won’t take long, I promise.”

The words got stuck in your throat and in your belly millions of butterflies were released and fluttered everywhere, the blush was quick to rise to your cheeks “Fine… But... Don’t take long, okay?”

That act had taken you by complete surprise, but he seemed quite pleased with the way he had completely altered the chemistry inside your brain and he knew it, of course he knew it, behind that look you were sure he was proud of his little misdeed.

Viktor left a small kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the lab. A shiver ran down your spine to help you come back to yourself. The last thing Viktor heard from you was the clicking of your heels at the end of the hallway.

“She didn’t believe it at all,” he said to himself as he leaned back against the door, taking a minute to compose himself, running one of his hands through his hair as if that would work. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and his brain was still fluttering with your blushing image. What he had done had been a risky act but it felt so good to do it… Viktor shook his head, getting those thoughts out of his mind.

The lab was empty, it felt cold and that didn’t help his leg at all. Holding on to his cane he walked towards his desk, in one of the drawers, the one most full of failed prototypes, the only one you never dared to clean, in the back, wrapped in a somewhat singed piece of curtain, he found what he was looking for. A velvety box, upon opening it he was greeted by the intense glow of a Hextech gem much smaller than the rest, he had worked on it for quite some time, it wasn't the gift itself, but it was the eternal battery that would keep it running, it had already been quite a challenge to get the crystals to stabilize at their original size, he had lost count of how many times he could have died while making it. He quickly closed the box and carefully put it away in his bag, losing it would be a huge disaster. He had kept the rest of your gift in a safe place at home.

Viktor took a moment to look at his desk, years ago doing what he was doing now would have seemed ridiculous and a waste of time. Now there was nothing else he wanted to spend his time on. His hand slid across his desk, feeling papers and the leather of his notebooks under his fingers. His hands wandered until they entered between the swollen pages of one of his old notebooks, opening it he felt a little embarrassed by the content.

The pages were filled with notes and sketches of designs, as the pages turned one had established itself among the others. All around it was filled with details about you, your favorite color, your favorite scent, your favorite sound. Such sweet descriptions of your laugh, your hair… of your essence, there were even small drawings of your face and your unmistakable look, motivating him to continue. There were dates and small appointments that his mind read with your voice while he smiled.

“I really hope you like it…” He sigh longingly.

You hugged your bare arms as you hopped from foot to foot to keep warm, the dress you were wearing worked inside the heated academy but now that you were outside you were freezing, every hair on your body standing on end.

“What are you doing Viktor?” You said into the air.

Since the conference had been a huge success you both had planned to go to his house to hang out. Although well, it wasn’t long before it was your house too, after all half of your closet was in his and you even had matching coffee mugs in his kitchen. Still you didn’t want to push Viktor at all. It had already been a bit difficult for you to get him to dare kiss your cheek in public without making it look like you had a gun on his back.

You panted into your hands, your breath bringing some heat to your fingers that were starting to get cold as an iceberg.

Something brushed against your back, a sudden touch that made you turn around instinctively, almost unnaturally, only to find yourself facing Viktor, who was blinking in surprise at your reaction. His hands were outstretched, holding your coat.

“What were you trying to do?” you ask, your tone more accusatory than you’d like, as you try to calm your racing heart.

“Put your coat on, maybe?” he replies, his tone matching yours, but a sly smile playing on his lips. It’s obvious that your startlement amuses him. “Here, let me put it on you. You’re going to freeze.”

You sigh to release the tension in your body and turn your back to him. You feel his cold hands touch your neck, drawing a gasp from you that you instantly suppress, determined not to give him any more reasons to mock you. There's something about his gesture, the way he gently places the coat over your shoulders and guides your wrists into the sleeves, that disarms you.

When he's done, he gently turns you around to close the buttons, fastening them one by one, while his fingers brush your hair away from the coat. It's a simple gesture, but he does it with such care that you melt a little. Crowning the moment, he puts your bag over your head and lets it rest on your shoulder with elegance.

Your eyes watch him with a tenderness that seems to stop time. Viktor notices it; his hand slides from the strap of your bag to your cheek, caressing it with cautious delicacy before removing it, leaving a cold sensation behind.

A laugh escapes your lips, soft and sweet, filling the frozen air with a warmth that seeps into his bones. He smiles with you.

You take a step closer to him, not expecting it, you see him seek support from his cane, the only thing that stands between him and you really.

His scent envelops you instantly: coffee and honey. It’s such a unique combination that you could identify it among millions.

“Your nose is red,” you comment, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

You can see how his eyes widen at the proximity and your close touch to his face makes the tip of his ears red, his gaze avoids yours nervously.

You barely finish and without waiting for an answer, he began to walk down the stairs of the academy. Leaving you upstairs with a satisfied smile, he seems quite in a hurry to get home.

The icy wind of Piltover forces you to get a little closer to Viktor when you manage to catch up with him while crossing the street. His steps are long and determined, he has barely taken a break since you started walking.

“Why are you so nervous?” you ask, breaking the silence. Normally he takes one or two breaks along the way, excusing himself by looking at the shop windows that you know he has little interest in.

“Nervous? Me?” Viktor arches an eyebrow and looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his tone has a doubtful tone.

“Yeah, even when you’re making fun of me,” you retort, remembering the coat incident earlier. “You seem to have your mind somewhere else.”

He lets out a short, almost dry laugh. “It’s not like that, just, you know… Someone has to keep the calm.”

“Someone? You mean you?”

“Of course. If you’re too busy freaking out over coats.” Viktor looks at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes, “someone has to take charge of looking professional.”

You frown, though you can’t hide the smile that threatens to appear. “If you put it that way it’s okay, I like you like that.” Is it dirty play? Yes, but it’s worth it when you see Viktor’s face.

Heat rises to his cheeks before he can stop it, but he hides it by burying his face deeper into his scarf. You’ve beaten him this time, but like any sore loser, he won’t let things go.

He stops walking abruptly, his body hunched over his knee.

Your triumphant expression leaves your face completely and you don't hesitate to approach him, worried. The weather was cold and that used to increase the pain in his leg, but you didn't expect it to be so strong as to double him over in pain.

“Does it hurt?” you asked somewhat worried, your hand on his back ready to help him stand up if necessary. “Not at all.” He turned his face only to be met with a proud and victorious smile.

The streets are empty, and the shops are beginning to close, Viktor resumes his straight posture while looking from side to side as if he wanted no one to see his next move, you follow his gaze, not quite knowing what to look at or what to look for. You feel the cold handle of his cane touch your chin gently and guide it to make you look up, towards him. He approaches cautiously and you know his pulse is shaking a little from the way the handle of his cane shakes, finally he presses his lips against yours, with an overwhelming softness that at another time would have made you draw him closer, but like all good things, it didn’t last long. The sound of a metal shutter being loudly lowered pushes him away from you like a scared cat before you can properly reciprocate. He tries to compose himself but the blush on his cheeks and the nervous movement of his eyes give him away; even someone as controlled as Viktor isn’t immune to nervousness.

You laugh, like a little child, savoring his kiss at the same time. Giving affection in public is a huge leap of faith for him and you know it, you melt every time he does it.

“Don’t look at me with that eyes.” he says avoiding your gaze, a shy smile forming on his mouth and refusing to disappear no matter how hard he tries.

“What eyes?” You ask, feigning innocence at the subject, searching for his free hand with yours to take it and not let it go.

His eyes meet yours, his pupils dilate quickly like drops of paint in water. That's one of the things you like about him, no matter when he tries to hide his feelings, you know exactly that his gaze will always give you the answer.

“Forgotten” he snorts trying to lighten the subject. This time offering you his arm to walk together.

Both of you walk in silence, just enjoying each other's company for the rest of the way, you look at the shops, some are closing, others still have warm lights on inside and a few people looking through the windows. People from Piltover don't usually go out at night, maybe because for them there isn't much interesting to see when the sun goes down. But you and Viktor are from Zaun, you reject the sun like hermit vampires and the night is the perfect time to go out and to let out certain romantic gestures as you already taste before.

Continue...

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red-doll-face · 3 months ago

Text

Getting caught in the rain with Arthur leads to him finding creative ways to warm you up.

(high honor) arthur morgan x fem. reader

I love this trope! prob been done before but I cant resist... 😔Can you believe I wanted this to be a short head canon post?? LMAO it ended up way longer than that. That's why it has a more casual thing going on despite being super long 🥲Happy thanksgiving! This is for the girlies who are stuck with family and need something absolutely filthy to read !!! 💕💕💕💕💕

Warnings: NSFW content, vaginal sex, while honor isn't too relevant, arthur is very sweet and hes kind of a weenie here, in a good way! arthur does not have bad intentions here, he's genuinely a sweet little man...

Thinking of begging Arthur to take you away from camp for a while. Maybe you haven't had a bath in a bit or you're sick of hearing Swanson drunkenly parade around camp. But you've decided to ask Arthur, he's always so sweet to you and you know he won't say no. And Arthur and his stupid bleeding heart (the one that bleeds so much more for you) grumbles and pretends he's thinking about it but really he'd probably say yes to anything that came from your lips. He has no regrets when he sees the smile you give him. You're hoisted up onto the back of his horse, holding onto his waist so you don't fall. Arthur is desperately trying to play it cool.

Then the rain starts coming down, you're soaked through very quickly and Arthur, such a gentleman, sheds his coat to give it to you, except now he is soaked through as well. The both of you are freezing and he tells you that you have to stop until the weather clears. He’s cussing up a storm worse than the one you're in. You nod, just wanting to be warm, wracked by shivers. He comes up on an abandoned shack and guides you inside, shutting the rain out. You're standing in the center of the room, looking like a wet cat after a miserable bath, Arthur is kind enough to take his coat off of you, giving you a ratty old, moth bitten blanket but it doesn't do much of anything for the cold. Trying to get a fire going proves fruitful but it's a small one and the wind blowing in from the flue almost puts it out several times.

Arthur feels so helpless, sitting there watching your teeth start to chatter as you sit in front of the pathetic little fire. He's trying to apologize (Ah, I’m sorry, I didn't know it was gonna come down like that,) but you only tell him it's not his fault. He has to help, all he wants to do is help. Things aren't getting any better and he doesn't want you to come down with something on account of him being an idiot. And then he gets an idea. He’s red all over flushed at the thought but he knows taking your soaking clothes off would help. And he's standing there, awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while he tries to hide under his hat. He’s gently clearing his throat, trying to get your attention.

“Maybe we could try… I…could…” he's nervously stumbling through his words and he's looking at you, sitting on the floor, desperately trying to warm your hands by the fire. You look up to him but he can hardly speak, so enraptured by the look of utter trust, reliance on him. His mouth hangs open but he swallows the lump of spit in his mouth. He tries to shake off these boyish jitters he gets around you. “Uhhh- I mean, it would be better if we weren't sittin’ round in these clothes, I guess, can’t be doin’ you any good...”

“Really, you think so…?” Your voice is quiet and meek, struggling to say anything past the clicking of your teeth and the shivers. “Well then, turn around, Arthur,” at your obvious attempt to be modest, he nods stiffly and turns towards the wall, listening to you take your dress and your underskirts off, landing in a wet plop on the floor. You whine, peeling yourself out of your undergarments before a quiet ok leaves your lips. He turns and you're desperately covering yourself with that dusty blanket, legs bare, fabric hardly long enough to cover the soft mound between your legs, the fat of your inner thighs squished together. Arthur has a hard time keeping his gaze from locking onto any of the inviting bits of skin you show him. You're embarrassed, biting your lip, squeezing your arms around yourself.

“Aren't you gonna- Arthur, you're gonna do it too, right?” Arthur has a hesitant nod and a course even though he just now thought he should probably follow along to help make you more comfortable. He’s removing his hat first, nothing to hide under now and he notices that you watch him take his gun belt off, unfastening his suspenders from his pants. You finally look away, his boots and his pants are peeled off and his shirt is unbuttoned. He’s breathing heavily now, naked as the day he was born. But you won't stop shivering. Your hair is still wet. And the fire is struggling to warm you from the bitter cold that clings to the dusty air. There isn't much left to burn for the fire.

“You want me to hold you?” It's out of his mouth before he can stop it, trying to smack away these thoughts about the glimpses he’s getting of your naked figure underneath the blanket. He swears it's only out of necessity, that you're just not warming up fast enough. “Don’t want you gettin’ sick on me,” He really does only want you comfortable. Unrealistically hoping this won't change what you most likely consider a friendship. You nod, vigorously.

“I think it would be ok, maybe if you just didn’t- didn’t look. Just- don’t look,” and you're desperate, curling up in his lap in front of the wavering fire. You're unable to look at him, but you still rub into him, enjoying how his body warms up a lot faster than yours. And both of you make some excuse that things would be better without that old blanket between you two. And suddenly you're pressed into him, his arms tight around you while he looks at the ceiling to avoid staring at things he shouldn't. Arthur struggles hard to keep from rubbing upwards into you, trying to keep you from sitting directly between his legs, afraid the way his body reacts to the feel of your body will scare you, scandalize you. But you only seem to want to be there more, getting comfortable with him. His chest hair tickles you, the hair creeps all the way down his torso. You giggle softly as it tickles you. His heart beats fast at the feel of you, so soft compared to the roughness of him.

As if all of the blood hasn't already rushed down to the very center of him, you just have to sit squarely on his lap. He tries to readjust you but it's too late and you've felt him, hard as a rock, pushing at you. He's so embarrassed, stumbling over an apology, “Shit-I-I’m sorry, I-” in that surly voice, all rough and low. you gasp and look over your shoulder. You see how he can hardly stand to look at you with his pretty blue gem-toned eyes. Instead he shows you his profile as he turns away.

“It's ok”, Arthur has no idea how he's supposed to look at you after this, he can't see himself looking you in the eyes for a long while after you've felt his cock nudging the swell of your ass, unable to deny his own reaction to you. Hopefully he’ll be able to dismiss it as a fluke and not a devastating hope that you’d be interested in him that he's been crushing down for months now. He's trying to will away the burgeoning desire just under his skin, tamping down fires that rage on. And you look up at him again with that look of trust in your eyes, too ashamed to continue touching you, wholeheartedly convinced you don't like him.

But then you're only closer than you were, looking up at him, so close, he's breathing in your scent, sweet and like fresh summer rain. His eyes search yours for any inclination and all you have to do is put your hand on his prickly cheek for him to lean and kiss you, hands on his broad chest, rushing over the warmth you can feel. How he ends up with you on his lap, tits pressed up against his hairy chest, his big hands squeezing at your hips, he's not too sure. Your arms are over his shoulders, playing with his light brown hair sweetly, rubbing the sore muscles in his back. And the glide of his tongue over yours is heaven, he swears. You whine into his kisses, the heat between the both of you licks over your skin, noses clumsily bumping into each other.

Then he’s on top of you, tucking you over the blanket. “You gotta tell me you want this, want me,” and all you can do is say “Yes, please, Arthur, please,” features showing your ecstasy, anticipating his hands on you.

His hands are rough; petting down your sides. Any worries he had about being too old, too ugly and too brutish for you are forgotten when you kiss him, spread your legs for him to fit between them. When you push your breasts in his hands when he goes to touch them. Your nipples are hard from the cold but his hands start to warm them up when he gropes at them, squeezing languidly at your breasts, grabbing handfuls.

It's not long before he’s pinning your thighs up with his hands, spreading you and licking eagerly between your legs, so selfless. Letting you moan as loud as you like, telling you how good you taste, the roughened pads of his fingers circling at the sensitive button at the top of your slit. And he's so strong, doesn't put much effort into keeping your legs up. He has dulcet praises for you, “Such a pretty girl, darlin’, jus’ beautiful,” making you soften and ease.

He’s so warm, holding you, like you wanted him to, messy kisses that taste like you. The very tip of him catches on you, dipping softly between your folds. Your nails dig into him, thighs clench tight. He's sweet talking to you, shushing you, rubbing hard at the delicate little nub, getting you as wet as possible. Saying how good you look. How he must be dreaming. That’s my girl is what he says when you soak his fingers with your own arousal, heat rising to the apples of your cheeks. Even more when he's working his cock inside of you, panting, he seems overwhelmed, mumbling and groaning praises to you, his sweet girl, perfect in that slow easy voice of his. You feel him carefully easing you open, hissing at the feel of you wrapped tight on him and leaking down his shaft. You can't say much but his name, begging him not to stop, feeling his fingers almost bruise the tender softness of your hips.

Arthur pushes so deep, a growl of pleasure leaking from his lips. You didn't think he would feel so big. Telling him how big he is and feels; “You're so big, Arthur,” in a wispy moan, makes him groan. He just wants to hear how much you like him. The rhythm he was trying to keep slow and careful speeds up. And he doesn't last very long, poor thing. It's been a while for him and he's flushed bright red, embarrassed and feeling a tad emasculated. The disappointed son of a bitch he lets out has you petting his hair back tenderly.

But all you have to do is give him a minute, kiss and nip gently, lock your legs around him so he can't pull away, until he's pushing his own seed deeper, mindlessly pinning you under his weight. He loves feeling so close to you, so small underneath him.

The way you feel clenching down on him, moaning for him, begging him to keep going has him rutting into you, following his instincts, brain feeling like it's melting. He's harder than he has ever been, listening to the sound of your wetness slide on him, the mess he’s left between your thighs sounding dirty and sticky. You don't have to tell him to keep rubbing you, grinding your hips into his so he can press into the perfect spot.

His thumb is rubbing at the very center of you, that tender bud, so sensitive, has you pushed to the edge and falling over, legs locking up behind him, bucking and moaning much too loud. You sink your fingers into the layer of fat over his broad muscles, arching your back, feeling so complete. Seeing you so relaxed, feeling so good because of him makes him push as deep as he can, making your toes curl, forcing more of his cum even deeper, a sloppy wet mess that drips out of you when he pulls out. But he revels in those few moments where he's catching his breath, still so deep inside of you, feeling you pulse on him.

Arthur can’t not hold you afterwards, unsure what to say. He thinks it might be too soon for I love you, maybe you’ll be scared away by his raw sentiments and his lovesick words. But you stare into his eyes; his heart jumps when he blurts it out in the silence, too late to shut his damn mouth. But you only smile and say you love him too. You're the farthest thing from cold, tucked into his chest, not even noticing that the rain has stopped.

Thank you for reading! SO sorry this ended up being so long. Excited to write more for high honor arthur, this was more fun than i thought... I love him 😔😳

#red writes #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #rdr2 x reader #high honor arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 community #high honor arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader

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pintrestgrl · 4 months ago

Note

Okay, listen!! Being very angsty here

Kook!reader and Rafe are wonderful together— the it-couple of Kildare. They both love partying and going on boat trips and shopping on the mainland. Rafe loves her and she loves him, and it's been like that for years.

Now for the angst: during spring break Topper hosts a party and reader loses Rafe while talking to friends, so she obviously goes to look for him, a little drunk, a little horny too, maybe, and poor baby finds him doing lines in some room and she just doesn't know what to say or do...

— 🪼

aw poor baby. she probably thinks he’s like the perfect bf too. 🥲 anyways hi 🪼 anon !! i missed u ! i love this idea too send more pls

also, for your season 4 ask, it might be like terrible to say but i haven’t watched season 4 yet… ik shocking. but im currently rewatching all the seasons rn 😭

but i will try to do it once i get to season 4 !!

i’m so so sorry 😭

also this ask is from like weeks ago.. but i just now got to it.. anyways im terrible at posting

pls enjoy !!

sweetheart!kook!reader with boyfriend!rafe.

you and rafe had been together forever, and everybody knew it.

everyone knew that you were his girlfriend, and he was your boyfriend.

you two were perfect together.

you went on yacht trips on his family’s boat, shopping excursions to the mainland, and you both attended every party that the outer banks had to offer.

another party came, so naturally you went with rafe.

you arrived with him, and began drinking and dancing the night away as he subtly pulled down your dress from behind you.

you had been there for around 30 minutes, when you realized you had lost him in the crowd at some point in time.

you already were a bit drunk, and kinda needy at this point. so, you needed rafe. desperately.

you stumbled along the crowded halls of the mansion, accidentally opening a few sex-filled rooms a long the way.

you finally came to the end of the hall, opening the door.

you froze.

behind it, was rafe. which should have calmed you down.

but the sight made you want to run away from the whole situation.

he was sitting in the laundry room, his head down as he snorted a line of white powder off the laundry machine.

you guessed you let out a small noise of shock, because his head raised.

the look on his face, was nothing but one of shock. of fear. of shame.

he wiped his nose, quickly standing up from the chair.

you backed away a little, not able to find the will to speak right now.

he spoke to you.

“oh, fuck— god, baby. it’s not what it looks like, okay. c’mere.”

he attempted to approach you, but you only backed away. you didn’t know what to say, or do, or think.

all you could think of, was that you just witnessed your sweet boyfriend doing a line of coke.

you finally found it in you to speak.

“what— what was that, rafe? what were you doing?”

he took hold of your wrists, not allowing you to move. he avoided your eyes, his pupils blown out.

he spoke.

“nothin’, baby. don’t worry about it. just calm down, okay. listen to me.”

you nodded slowly, afraid of who he would become while he was on drugs like this.

he spoke again.

“let’s just— go home. i think it’s time for you to go home.”

you shook your head, rather quickly. you didn’t want to go. you wanted to be with him. you didn’t mean to see that sight, it wasn’t like you wanted too.

you spoke.

“‘no— please, rafe. i wanna stay. please, it’s fine.”

he grunted, shaking his head.

“no. you’re goin’ home, okay? just listen to me for once, god.”

you frowned. his words got so much meaner, and you could only blame it on the drugs coursing through his body.

he took a bit too tight hold of your arms, leading you towards the door, then to his car.

you got in, too scared to protest staying at the party anymore.

you were scared. very, very scared. you’d never seen rafe like this in all the years you’d known him.

he turned the car on, sloppily pulling out of the driveway.

he sped all the way home, his car going well over the speed limit.

you were frozen, and silent with fear the whole car ride.

you wanted him to slow down, but you were much too fearful to say anything to his face right now.

he arrived at your house, letting out a gruff noise that only told you to get out.

you reluctantly opened your mouth, and spoke.

“rafe, we can— we can talk about it. please? can we talk about it?”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes. he finally looks at your eyes, and you saw nothing in them. nothing but his dilated pupils. usually, you’d seen a hint of love or admiration in his eyes.

there was nothing.

he spoke, harshly.

“just— shut the fuck up. got it? get out. now.”

you sucked in a shaky hiss at his mean words, nodding and opening the door of his car, hopping out.

usually, he’d have the common decency to walk you to the door and say hi to your parents.

as you walked to the door, you heard him speed off. not even bothering to see if you got in okay.

you felt tears prick your eyes, as you rushed upstairs. avoiding the words of your parents.

you showered, and changed. finally sitting down in your bed.

you were so worried, so confused.

where did he go? did he get there okay? what was he doing in that room?

you thought about sending him a text or two, but deciding to drop the idea when the memory of his blunt words came in your head.

you took a shaky breath, rolling over and clutching the stuffy that rafe had gotten for you a while back.

you had many questions.

how could he just dismiss you like that? and treat you so much different then he usually did?

you hated what he had done. hated what you had witnessed. hated what he said to you.

but yet, you couldn’t quite find it in you to hate him.

you loved him, with everything you had in you.

and he had been hiding half his life away from you.

you let your tears soak the plush animal, as you let every bad thought consume your mind.

before you finally, succumbed to a deep slumber.

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your-nanas-house · 11 days ago

Note

hi there hope you okay

I love your lactation kink Thomas' story...could you write more? 🥲

🤣 Hi, dear. Of course. I think I will write some kind of series or AU since I have more than one ask asking me for this kink with Tommy 💕

A healthier drink

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby X wet nurse!Reader

◇ Warnings: Breastfeeding, Charlie convincing his father, wet nurse, sexual tension only between Tommy and the wet nurse (they are both off age).

◇ Summary: Little Charlie doesn't want his father to continue drinking alcohol so he suggests something healthier.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"Dada, NO!" little Charlie's voice squealed out, his little legs wobbling quickly to his father with a little frown on his cute chubby face. Behind him, his wet nurse kept a close eye on the baby boy. A gentle look on her face that remained there even when she met Thomas' slightly annoyed gaze.

Charlie had wandered to his father, ready to reach for the whiskey glass on the desk so that Tommy couldn't finish it.

"No, good, dada!!" His high voice scolded since he heard the doctor joke about how bad it was for Thomas to drink it... the little man was on a very specific mission. Healthy drinks for his papa... drinks like milk.

Milk was the better option for the gangster instead of alchol, or at least that's what the baby thought.

He could tell that he pissed off his dad by interrupting his work and trying to take his favourite glass, but he didn't care too determined to do the right thing for him.

"Dada no" his little chubby finger wiggled to prove his point as he got picked up by Thomas' calloused hands

"No? Daddy can't drink his drink now?" The man inquired, challenging silently his son to continue with his shenanigans. The little boy was quite persistent, though, fussing to move the glass further away, clearly thinking that Tommy wouldn't manage to reach for it anymore if he couldn't too due to his short arms.

"Dada milk, no dat" he scolded for the third time, matching the tone and the expression that his father used sometimes in those situations.

Even if his intentions were pure, innocent, and led by his big heart, the confusion was still present on Tommy's stoic expression. It was happening all too quickly: his baby son rushing in his office, stopping his schedule, him now pushing the glass away and blabbering nonsense while pulling his wet nurse closer.

It was all bizzare, but when Charlie pat the woman's chest, everything clicked in their minds. They both realized that the little boy was trying to make his father drink something healthier and good tasting for... him. He wanted his wet nurse to breastfeed Thomas as well.

"Charlie, daddy needs to go back to work" he informed with a tense but soft tone, his icy eyes watching his son slightly with a glimpse of amusement and embarrassment. Sadly, if there was something that Charlie took after him, it was his stubborn mind. He wouldn't have dropped the topic until Tommy hadn't done as he requested, and since he was on a thin schedule and needed to continue with his work, the only possible way was to indulge.

The man could tell the young woman's thoughts just by looking at her expression. It was surely odd, and she surely wasn't expecting that day to end breastfeeding a grown ass man... expecially not her boss.

But she didn't comment on it, opting to just follow their antics to receive her pay and to empty her full hurting breasts. She could sense both, Tommy's and Charlie's, gazes on her hands as she unbuttoned her dress and moved aside the fabric of her bra to expose her boobs to the cold air. Her nipples were already leaking a bit, shining softly due to the candles that lighted up the room.

It was odd, embarassing, but Tommy's gaze managed to make butterflies explode in her stomach. Her hand carefully held her right breast, ready to just breastfeed like she always did. Not exactly knowing if she should hold his head or just let him do as he preferred.

A step closer and Thomas' mouth hesitantly wrapped around her nipple, his warm tongue licked the first drop of milk before he started to suck.

His eyes flattered shut, his mouth moving on his own as he kept swallowing down the milk he managed to get, making sure to not bite or make his teeth brush too much her sensitive skin.

Little Charlie had already grown bored and had climbed down his father's lap, ready to play with his toys in the other room. Leaving them in the office alone.

Tommy's hand grabbed the wet nurse's hip, pulling her closer as his mouth kept working, moving to the other breast as soon as he was sure the first was empty. Soft guttural hums were leaving his throat due to the woman's gentle touch and the taste of her milk.

Too lost in the new experience, he didn't dared to move right away when he finished. His warm tongue still stroked softly the nipple a couple of times before ending the 'meal' with a pop sound. His gaze dark and lazy, and his lips a bit swollen and red.

"I better go check on Charlie" the woman whispered, hiding back her breasts in her dress. Not daring to look her boss in the eyes and just wishing to get rid of the ache between her thighs... but sadly work came before pleasure.

#tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you

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ooffmlsorry · 1 year ago

Text

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #luffy x reader #law x reader #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #ace x reader #sabo x reader

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lokideservesahug · 8 months ago

Text

Happy "Family"

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-Pairing: Mark Webber x fem!reader, Oscar Piastri x Webber family (platonic)

Warnings: Nothing, this is just cute fluff.

Notes: Right this request is 2 whole races late and I am so so sorry. But better late then never😅 (I'm so sorry)!

Summary: How do the Webber family react to their favourite adopted member's shenanigans in Monaco? Well let's see...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

(The photos in higher quality):

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: A midly stressful weekend from start to finish. I think and Mark and I have developed a large amount of great hairs with the amount of stress (especially with that contact) but in the end it was all worth it when

@ oscarpiastri got Second place. We are incredibly proud, all of us🧡

P.S. I had to include a photo of both of Oscar's adoptive dads sharing an interaction!

Liked by Aussiegrit, Oscarpiastri and 409,765 others

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Oscarpiatri: Thank you all for the support and thanks to the little gremlins for being so amazing yet again🧡

↳ Yourusername: Well done Oscar we are so happy for you (and see you tonight at dinner)

↳User1: They are getting dinner to celebrate?!?!?🥺

↳Yourusername: We were going to get dinner regardless but we can now use at as an excuse to celebrate (and let someone babysit the kids)

↳User2: #justiceforbabywebbers

User3: This is the sweetest thing ever. I need The Piasebber family more than I need air atp

↳User4: FR. Like they are the sweetest most supportive group ever

User5: Welcome back celebratory Y/N captions

↳User6: It's been a long time since we have seen those

↳User7:🤨

↳User8: Because Mark retired ages ago!😅🥲 (he deserved a championship😔)

Aussiegrit: Well done Oscar, what a great performance today

↳Oscarpiastri: Thank you Mark (also I'm afraid to ask Y/N but what is the dress code for tonight)

↳Aussiegrit: Any time🧡 (Smart casual for the resteraunt, and I get your fear)

↳Yourusername: Do you guys remember that this is my comment section so I can see what you typed...right🤨

↳Aussiegrit:Nothing to see here darling x

User9: THE CHARLES AND MARK PHOTO

↳User10: That had me giggling bro

Charlesleclerc: Well done Oscar 🤍

↳Oscarpiastri: Thank you parent #2

↳Charlesleclerc:Who is parent Number 1?

↳Aussiegrit: Im sorry to break out to you mate, but Oscar has a clear best parent!

↳Oscarpiastri: Yeah. It's Y/N

↳Aussiegrit: Oi!

↳Yourusername: Sorry darling, and sorry Charles (and well done on your home win)! But Osc said it best...

-°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°--°•°•°•°•--•°•°•°•°-

Thank you for reading and sorry for hoe delayed this is.

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @mysoulispainted @leclercings @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @a-beaverhausen @nichmeddar @lozzamez3 @stinkyjax @marymustdie @littlesatanicassholebitch @mehrmonga @insanedeathwish @ems-alexandra @a-disturbing-self-reflection @cherry-piee @thatgirlmj

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #mark webber x fem!reader #mark webber smau #mark webber x y/n #mark webber x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #monaco 2024 #ldah's writing

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withleeknow · 10 months ago

Note

i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.