#I couldn't be bothered to give this a background

[writinginatree]

The Taste of Home

Relationship(s): Bodhi Durran & Xaden Riorson & Garrick Tavis & Riorson!reader, background Xaden Riorson/Violet Sorrengail

Summary: When the first snow falls in Aretia, that means it's time for baking cookies, building a blanket fort, and lots of playfulness.

Warnings: Swearing, one tiny injury, the reader is implied to be on the smaller side physically and kind of a brat (sorry, I just got very self-indulgent with this 😅)

A/N: Since I mostly only bake recipes in my first language I'm not that familiar with English baking terminology, so please feel free to correct me if anything doesn't make sense the way I phrased it!

It's 4:32 in the morning when you burst into Bodhi's room — and that's entirely his own fault for not locking the door. He jolts awake, immediately reaching for a dagger as you jump onto his bed, excitedly whispering, "Wake up, it's snowing!"

With an exasperated groan, your cousin drops his weapon and sinks back into the pillows. "It's the middle of the fucking night, bubs."

"No, it's not," you insist, shaking him slightly. "You have to get up in an hour or two anyway. And it's snowing! You hear me? It's finally snowing enough to not immediately melt away again!"

Bodhi tugs on his covers, trying to pull them over his head, but he can't with you sitting on top of him. "Mhh, I heard you the first time," he grumbles. "Now can I please go back to sleep?"

"No."

"Don't be a fucking brat." He's trying to sound strict and commanding, but he's still sleepy and it sounds more like a whine than anything else. "Can't you go bother someone else with your snow?"

You know you kind of are being a brat, but that's never stopped you before, so why should it now? Fully yanking the covers from his grasp, you pout down at him. "Nope. No way am I entering Xaden's room uninvited. I really, really don't want to know what him and Violet are doing in there."

"Probably sleeping, like any sane person," Bodhi grumbles. "What about Garrick? I'm sure he'd love to be woken up just because it snowed."

"Better not..." Unlike Bodhi, Garrick would certainly win a tug of war for the covers. "You're awake anyway now, so you might as well do me the favor and get up," you reason. "Please!"

Bodhi makes another attempt to get his comforter back. "Why do you even want me to get up? It's still dark and it's cold. You can stay here if you just let me sleep some more, how about that?"

For a moment, you consider it, always tempted by the prospect of cuddles. But there's a fresh layer of snow waiting outside, glittering in the fading moonlight and just about begging you to be the first to leave your footprints in it.

"Nope. Get up, we're building a snowman."

Knowing when it's time to give up, Bodhi stops fighting and drops his hands. "Ugh, fine. Get off me, then."

"Can we bake cookies today?" you ask Xaden later that morning, coming up behind him in the line for breakfast and jumping onto his back.

"I have to—" he starts, shaking his head, but you interrupt him. Whatever oh so important stuff he thinks he has to get done today, it can't possibly be more important than cookies.

"Nuh-uh. Fuck that. You can take a break from all your big bad responsibilities."

"You do remember we're at war, right?" He shakes you off, turning to lift a brow at you.

"War can wait!"

"That's not how that works."

"You're not going to bring on the end of the world by taking a day off, Xaden. Give yourself a break. You deserve it."

"You know how useless it is to argue with her about when to bake," Bodhi comes to your aid. "If there's snow, there have to be cookies, too. And she's right, you really fucking deserve a day off."

Xaden scowls, but you can tell how much he wants to give in. "Teaming up on me now, are you?"

"We always baked cookies as soon as it properly snowed," you insist, barely stopping yourself from stomping your foot like an angry toddler. "It's bad enough that we couldn't do it the last six years, but now we're finally home, so we have to do it again! Please!"

Xaden looks between you and Bodhi, both giving him the same pleading look, sighs and raises his palms in defeat. "Fine. But only if Violet can join, too."

"Of course." You grin, throwing yourself at him in a hug. "Thank you! I'll tell Garrick."

Xaden grabs you by the back of your shirt before you can run off. "Breakfast first, though. Let's just meet in the kitchen in about an hour, okay?"

You agree, and leave them standing there when Xaden lets go of you.

"—dragged me out of bed to play in the snow at five this morning," Bodhi is complaining when he walks into the kitchen with Xaden, Garrick and Violet an hour later, but the smile he can't quite hide gives away that he didn't mind it nearly as much as he's pretending.

You've already prepared the dough for one of the recipes you plan on making while you waited for them. Wiping your hands on your apron, you turn to face them, hands on your hips. "You guys are late."

"Looks like you're doing just fine without us," Xaden remarks with a pointed look at the ball of dough before you.

"Yeah, well, as you should know, this has to be in the cold for at least an hour or two before we can roll it out and cut the cookies without it crumbling," you say and open the window, placing the dough outside on the snow-dusted windowsill. "Let's make the white almond ones in the meantime, yeah?"

Bodhi scrunches his face in thought. "Almond ones? What almond ones?"

"I think she means those ugly cloud looking blobs that fall apart when you bite into them," Garrick says.

"Ohh, fuck yeah! I love those," Bodhi agrees, reaching for one of the aprons hanging on hooks in the corner. "Let's go!"

You nod, but before you can get started, the others need aprons too. Garrick and Violet obediently put on the ones you hand them, but a certain someone decides to be difficult.

Folding his arms across his chest, your brother glares down at the brightly striped fabric you hold out to him. "I don't take orders from first-years. And I'm definitely not wearing a fucking apron."

"Yes, you are. If you don't, you can get right the fuck out, and if you don't help, you won't get any cookies, either."

Xaden might be in charge on the battlefield, but in the kitchen, you are the boss. He knows it, too, snatching the apron from your hand and tying it around his waist while grumbling something about you being a brat under his breath. Everyone seems to agree on that today, but as long as they do what you want, that's fine with you.

You grab a fresh bowl and instruct Bodhi to hand you four eggs while Garrick searches for the whisk.

"Did everyone wash their hands?" Violet makes sure, and you all nod.

"Okay, so what's first?" Bodhi asks, placing the eggs on the counter before you.

"First someone has to separate four eggs for me."

"Still haven't learned how to do it?" Xaden teases, cracking an egg as Garrick takes another to do the same.

"I have, actually," you inform him. "It's just that you're better at it."

"Are we? Or do you just not like having sticky hands from the eggs running over them?"

"Both." You shrug with an unapologetic grin. "You can put the yolks aside, we only need the whites for this."

"What do we do with them?"

"Beat until very stiff, and slowly add in the sugar," you reply, taking the whisk and getting started once all four egg whites are in the bowl. Needless to say, your enthusiasm doesn't last long. "My arm hurts."

"Seriously?" Xaden laughs. "You're a bonded rider, strongest of your year, yet you still can't whisk a bunch of eggwhites?"

"I didn't say I can't. I just said my arm is tired. If you don't want to help me, I'm perfectly capable of finishing this on my own."

"Just give it here," Xaden says, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he takes the bowl from you and continues whisking with an efficiency you can only envy. Soon the eggs turn into a fluffy foam, and you slowly add in the sugar while Xaden keeps mixing.

"Okay, now to carefully fold the almond slivers into the mass."

You take that task upon yourself, Violet slowly adding in the almonds for you while Xaden prepares the baking tray and grabs some teaspoons with which to transfer the mass.

The three of you scoop it onto the baking tray in small piles, while Bodhi goes poking at the dough on the windowsill. "Should we start rolling this out while you get those into the oven?"

"You can check if it's cold enough, but it's probably still too soft." Garrick opens his mouth, and you whirl around to point your spoon at him. "Don't you dare make a dick joke," you warn.

"I'd never!"

"Then what were you going to say, huh?"

Garrick clears his throat and looks away, damning himself with his lack of answer.

You nod. "That's what I thought. Close the window, Bodhi, there's no point cutting those yet if we have to wait until these are done to put them in the oven, anyway."

While you place the baking tray in the oven, Xaden offers the batter rests to Violet behind your back — predictable, but still disappointing.

You jump to their side. "Let me too!"

Xaden rolls his eyes, and Violet laughs. "Don't worry, there's enough for all of us. We could've probably gotten a couple more cookies out of this."

"Probably, but we've earned a treat."

"I thought the cookies are going to be our treat?"

"Well, yeah. But we also deserve a treat now."

"So, how long do these have to be in the oven?" Garrick asks.

"About an hour."

"Great, and what are we supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Wait for them to be done?"

"I'm not going to sit here doing nothing for an hour!"

"We could have a snowball fight," you suggest.

"Absolutely not," Xaden immediately shuts you down. "The cookies would be ashes by the time we make it back inside."

"Let's play memory," Bodhi suggests. "You still have one somewhere, don't you?"

"More like half a dozen of 'em," Xaden scoffs under his breath.

"Yeah, I think so," you reply.

Since Xaden isn't entirely wrong about a snowball fight taking too long, you go with Bodhi's idea. Five minutes of digging through a sideboard you haven't touched since your return to Aretia turns up a whole pile of old board and card games, Bodhi's favorite memory among them.

"Xaden, you keep an eye on the time," you order, laying out the cards under the boys' watchful gazes. It may have been years since you've played any games together, but apparently they remember all to well how much you used to cheat at most of them.

"Always me," your brother complains, but dutifully takes out his pocket watch.

It doesn't take long until you regret that you didn't even try to cheat. You'd never had to, always the champion when it came to memory. But then of course, you'd never played it with Violet before. She's crazy good at this. While you have a meager three pairs so far, she is collecting pair after pair, her stack of cards already bigger than all of your and the boys' put together.

Twice she wins, leaving you in second place. You're about to demand you play another round, but the time is up, and Xaden drags you to your feet.

"Stop sulking and come take the cookies from the oven."

"Fine, but I want a rematch later," you insist, still pouting a little as you follow him to the kitchen.

Violet offers you a smile. "Sure. We can play as many rounds as you want."

"Oh, you'll regret that," Xaden laughs. "She'll keep you up till morning, or until you let her win."

You gasp. "Let me win?! No, no, no. Don't you dare!"

Violet laughs, putting her hands up. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on it."

The almond meringues turn out perfect, and after everyone tries one and the rest are put away, you start on the butter cookies. By now, the dough is perfectly chilled, and Xaden easily rolls it out as thin as possible.

There's only one problem.

"Where the fuck are our cookie cutters?!"

"They're not in the drawer," Bodhi reports, shrugging apologetically when your glare darkens even more at his words.

You look from him to Xaden to Garrick, skipping over Violet, since she certainly had nothing to do with this. "Okay, which of you idiots—"

"Oh, no," Xaden interrupts you. "Don't blame this on us. As you said yourself, you're the one in charge of the kitchen, and you were the last one to put them away before the apostasy."

"Yeah, well, I definitely put them in the drawer where they belong, so—"

You stop short as Violet takes a small tin box from one of the cabinets, holding it out to you so you can see inside. "Are these the cookie cutters we're looking for?"

"Yes!" You beam at her, grateful she had the sense to just search while you others stood and argued. Then your face darkens again as you realize none of you would've put them into that particular cabinet, with the fancy tea service of all things. Which means— "Someone used our cookie cutters while we were gone."

"Apparently." Bodhi shrugs. "So what?"

"Those are ours!"

"Yeah, yeah. I know, baby. And they're all still here, so it's not a big deal. Now do you want to throw a tantrum or are we going to make cookies?"

Thus made aware of how childish you're being, you take a deep breath to calm yourself down and mutter, "Make cookies."

Bodhi nods. "Thought so. Come on then, you can cut the first one."

You don't have to be told twice, deciding on the star-shaped one. The others grab cutters too, and soon the first tray of cookies is in the oven.

"When we were kids we did this every winter," you tell Violet, grinning at the memory as you work side by side, filling a second tray. "It was a whole tradition, with Garrick coming over for the weekend and the four of us building a pillow fort in Xaden's room and sleeping there in a huge pile of fluffy blankets and cookie crumbs."

"Sounds fun."

"It was. Is. I think we're too big for the pillow fort part, though." When Bodhi gasps and stares at you as if you just declared the end of the world, you amend, "Well, at least Xaden and Garrick are. I guess we could make one without them and put a sign in the entrance that says 'no giants allowed' or something."

"Excuse you?!" Xaden crosses his arms, glaring down at you. "No way you're building a blanket fort without us."

"It's not my fault you'd bring the whole thing crashing down!"

"We wouldn't!"

"Sure you would!"

"We'll just have to make it a big pillow fort," Bodhi tries to dissolve the argument. "Then we can all fit inside."

"But a big pillow fort isn't as cozy as a small one!"

"If we use enough blankets and pillows it will be," Garrick insists, adding, "Now stop being a brat and take those cookies from the oven before they burn."

You pivot to look into the oven, and sure enough the first batch is already a little darker than the soft golden shade they're supposed to turn. Cursing Garrick for not taking them out himself upon seeing this, and muttering about how he isn't the boss of you, you hurriedly rescue the poor cookies.

The rest turn out better, and time seems to fly until all that's left to do is decorate them.

"Don't you think that's a bit too much chocolate?" Violet asks, looking over your shoulder as you melt it on the stove.

"Probably," you admit, "but better too much than too little."

"Especially since more of it will end up in two certain someones' stomachs instead of on the cookies," Garrick laughs.

Bodhi nods, adding, "Between Xaden and Y/N, getting rid of leftover chocolate definitely won't be an issue."

"Oh, shut up, Bodhi, you're no better!"

When your cousin tries to object to that accusation, you grab another cookie and shove it in his mouth. It earns you a kick against your shin, but at least you get the last word.

Not that him and Garrick were wrong, exactly, you silently admit as you catch yourself licking chocolate from your fingers for the umpteenth time a little later. But it's hardly your fault that decorating always makes such a mess, and covering everything in chocolate-fingerprints would be worse.

And there! A whole spoonful of chocolate glazing disappears into Bodhi's mouth, hypocrite that he is! Meeting his eyes, you raise a brow at him, but he just grins and shrugs.

You blow a raspberry at him, and focus back on the cookie you're decorating.

"We should have dinner and finish this later," Garrick suggests when about half the cookies are decorated.

You blink at him, taking another cookie and slowly shoving the whole thing into your mouth while staring him down from your seat on the counter.

He blows out an exasperated breath. "No, Y/N, we can't have only cookies for dinner."

You share a look with your brother.

"I mean, we could," he says slowly, like he's only just realizing it. "Who's going to stop us?"

"Common sense?" Violet suggests, but judging by the way she's eyeing the fresh cookies, you doubt it'd take much to convince her.

"We already had nothing but cookies for lunch," Garrick gripes. "I need some real food!"

"He's not wrong," Bodhi admits.

Violet also nods, giving Xaden an apologetic smile. "I could use a proper meal too."

Xaden looks at you. "Guess we're overruled."

"Fiiine," you sigh. "Let's eat some real food."

After your dinner break, it takes another hour to finish decorating the cookies, and by the time you've cleaned up, it's full night outside.

"Okay, so are we serious about doing the sleepover, too?" Garrick asks.

"Of course! Right, Xay?"

He shrugs, pretending nonchalance, but you know him too well to fall for that. He loves the blanket fort part of this tradition. "If you insist."

Damn right you do. Someone has to, after all, and if everyone else is too used to playing the responsible adult, well, you have no problem being the childish one and forcing happiness upon them.

The others agree too, and Bodhi slaps his hands. "Okay, let's go then."

"Wait, but we're not done," you hold them back. "I want to make those nougat thingies too!"

"Those aren't cookies," Bodhi says.

"I don't care what they are, I want them."

Xaden ruffles your hair. "We'll make them tomorrow, okay? It's late, and we still have to put up the pillow fort."

"And don't forget that you wanted to play another round of memory," Garrick reminds you, "though why you would want to torture yourself like that is beyond me."

You reluctantly give in, since you know Xaden likes the nougat treats just as much as you do, and will probably keep word about making them tomorrow. It really has gotten late, you realize, yawning wide around another cookie.

Bodhi is already piling more onto a plate to take up to Xaden's room for later, along with a teapot full of hot chocolate.

"Okay, everyone get all the blankets and pillows you have and bring them to Xaden's room." Pointing at Violet and Xaden you add, "You take the cookies and hot chocolate, but leave some for us!"

No sooner said than done, you're all gathered in Xaden's room a few minutes later, a huge pile of blankets and pillows dumped onto his bed. You stand around it in a rough circle, staring at your building material in thoughtful silence.

"Sooo... How did this work again?" Garrick finally says.

Xaden scratches his head, then slowly walks to his desk and takes the chair, moving it so it's a few steps away from the desk. "We definitely need this over here to hold up the blankets."

"I think we always used to tuck one side of the top blanket into the armoire," you say, "and then tie the other end to the chair, right?"

Bodhi nods. "And then we drape another one across from the desk and also tie it to the chair."

"Okay, let's try that and then go from there," Xaden decides. "Just keep in mind that it has to be bigger than it used to."

"Yeah, yeah. We know."

After forty minutes, two failed attempts and half a dozen arguments about the correct layout of a pillow fort, you're finally finished, and this time, it's sturdy and big enough that everyone is satisfied with the result.

"Perfect." You spread out on a pile of pillows, admiring your handiwork. "I think this might actually be the best blanket fort we've ever built."

Xaden nods, but then nudges you with his foot before you can get truly comfortable. "You have chocolate all over your sleeve, bug. Go get changed before you get everything dirty."

Since pajamas will be much more comfortable anyway, you all head back to your own rooms to get changed, before meeting back in Xaden's room.

"Not a fucking word," you growl after a single look at the barely suppressed grins on the boys' faces upon your entering the room.

"You've had those pajamas since you were, what, ten? And you still have to roll up the pants' legs?" Garrick laughs.

"It's not my fault they made these for fucking spiders or something!"

"Spiders?" Bodhi chokes out, laughing so hard you're sure he'll bring the whole pillow fort crashing down any moment.

Even Xaden is laughing, though he tries to hide his face against Violet's neck. She's chuckling too, but there's a look on her face that tells you that too long pants are an issue she, too, is familiar with.

"Yeah! No one who isn't a spider has legs so abnormally long!"

The boys only laugh harder, and yeah, okay, the spider comparison is ridiculous. Whatever.

Since you're not going to just stand there and let them laugh at you, you grab one of the pillows not yet inside the fort and hurl it straight at Garrick's face. He's the one who started making fun of you, and the only one standing far enough away from the pillow fort that you can be sure you won't accidentally tear it down.

Your aim is true, and Garrick takes a step back with an angry yelp, catching the pillow before it can hit the floor to fire it right back you. You duck beneath it, jumping behind the bed for cover and grabbing the last two pillows left on it.

Garrick ducks into the pillow fort for ammunition of his own — a perfect target. One pillow hits his behind just as intended, but the other flies past him, hitting Bodhi instead. Your cousin narrows his eyes at you, picking up the pillow and nodding at Garrick.

They're ganging up on you — and you're out of ammo.

Ducking behind the cover of the bed again proves useless, as they come rushing around it seconds later, both of their arms loaded with pillows they start firing at you as soon as they're in range.

"Xay, help!" you squeal, picking up one of the pillows they threw at you to defend yourself as you retreat toward the wall.

Your brother takes his time coming to your rescue, but his picking up a pillow and slowly walking over is enough to draw Garrick's attention away from you. Faced with only Bodhi now, you have room to go into the offense yourself.

"Every time," Xaden grumbles, his shadows saving you from getting hit on the head by a bunch of books a stray pillow knocks from the shelf above you. "They do this every fucking time."

You grin, jumping on top of Bodhi, who has fallen onto Xaden's bed, and think to yourself that that's exactly why you always have these sleepovers in Xaden's room and not yours. He doesn't have nearly as much fragile knickknacks on his shelves as you do.

Bodhi puts his years of sparring experience to use and easily breaks your hold on him, rolling both of you to the side — and right off the bed.

You slam into the floor with a loud thud, the carpet doing nothing to cushion your fall as Bodhi's weight on top of you crushes the air from your lungs. Tears spring to your eyes at the pain shooting through the back of your head.

"Ow," you whimper, the sound embarrassingly high pitched and whiny.

Shadows grab Bodhi by the back of his shirt and lift him off you before he can react as Xaden rushes to your side. You swat his hands away from your head, blink a few times to clear your vision, mumbling that you're fine.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three." You slowly sit up, slowly regaining your composure. "Now get out of my face, I'm fine."

"Let me see your head," Xaden insists. "The way it sounded, you hit it pretty hard."

Since you know the stubborn ass won't back off, you let him inspect the back of your head, waving Bodhi's apology aside. Gods know your roughhousing has lead to this kind of accident often enough over the years that it's no big deal.

"Doesn't look too bad," Xaden decrees. "But you'll probably get quite the bump."

"Told you I'm fine."

"Still, you should probably—"

Spotting a pillow on the floor just inside your reach, you grab it and hurl yourself at Bodhi, ignoring whatever your brother is trying to say.

"Haven't you had enough?" Bodhi asks, struggling to fend you off.

"No."

"—rest." Xaden sighs. "Right. Never mind, then."

You jump to your feet, bumping your brother's shoulder. "Come on, you, me, and Vi against Bodhi and Garrick!"

"Hold up, why should it be three against two in your favor?!" Garrick complains.

"Because Vi and me are small."

Bodhi rolls his eyes. "As if that makes any difference! Everyone against everyone would be fairer!"

"I don't care, I want teams!"

You don't give them the chance to argue any more, throwing one pillow at Garrick and hitting Bodhi over the head with another.

Violet shrugs and joins you, leaving your brother no choice but to go along too.

You're very glad Violet is on your team; her aim is immaculate, every pillow she throws landing right on target — unlike yours, which uselessly smack against the wall half of the time. But you do your part too, keeping hold of your favorite fuzzy pillow and hitting your opponents with it every time they come within your reach.

Finally, Bodhi and Garrick surrender. After moving all the pillows back into the blanket fort, you flop onto them, thoroughly exhausted. The memory rematch will have to wait until morning, you decide. Tired as you are, your chances of beating Violet at it are worse than ever.

"Good night guys," you mumble, feeling one of the others settle down at your side. You don't hear their reply anymore, already drifting off.

When you wake up, your arms have both fallen asleep, trapped underneath yourself and Bodhi respectively. You try to untangle yourself without waking anyone, but Bodhi stirs.

"Not this again, Y/N," he mumbles, clearly remembering your shenanigans from the morning before.

"No, we can sleep some more," you whisper back. "I just have to pee."

Bodhi grunts and rolls over to go back to sleep, leaving you to try and pick your way between the others without stepping on anyone in the dark somehow.

On the way back from the bathroom, you decide to grab a snack while you're up anyway. But as you approach the plate of cookies, a sound coming from its direction has you stopping in your tracks. It almost sounds like... chewing?

Yes, it's definitely chewing. A cookie thief, beating you to your midnight snack.

Tiptoing closer, you try to make out the person's silhouette, but it's too dark. Well, whoever it is, they're in for an unpleasant time if they took the last of the cookies. You're fully awake now and craving sugar, and you absolutely refuse to walk all the way to the kitchen for a cookie.

Your stretched out hand makes contact with someone's head, an annoyed huff their only reaction. Recognizing your brother when your fingers skim the line of his eyebrow-scar, you remove your hand from the proximity of accidentally poking him in the eye and instead feel around for the plate of cookies.

Of course it's Xaden. And of course your approach didn't startle him, what with his shadow powers. He's probably been silently laughing at you the whole time as you clumsily felt your way through the dark. Well, just wait until you get a signet, too. Then you'll show him.

But for now, cookies. You're convinced Xaden is deliberately moving the plate from your reach, otherwise you certainly would've touched it by now. Hearing him bite into another cookie as you still unsuccessfully feel around, you've had enough.

"Share!" you hiss, hand finding his arm and moving along it in hopes of finding the plate, but no luck. His hand is empty.

"The plate's right in front of you," he whispers back, and you swear you can hear him smirking. "Just take one."

"Asshole."

But this time you listen closely to his movements when he takes another cookie, and reaching into that spot, your hand closes around one too. And it's the last one, you realize, sliding your other hand over the plate as you bite into the cookie. It's Xaden's luck he let you have it, otherwise you might've had to draw a dick on his face as revenge while he slept.

Speaking of sleep, you really should go back to bed.

Xaden seems to have had the same thought. His hand brushes over the top of your head as he steps around you, then shadows wind around your arms and guide you back into the pillow fort after him, saving Bodhi from getting your foot in his face and tucking you in as you snuggle into your cousin's side.

[bluetomatoart]

Trying to practice drawing muscles and such.

[lostalioth]

𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫

→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.

→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.

Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.

You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.

“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.

You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.

“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.

“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.

“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.

“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.

“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.

That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.

“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.

Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.

“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.

With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.

“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.

A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.

He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.

“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.

“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.

“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.

Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.

“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.

Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.

→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN

[sttoru]

‘if there’s anyone in this world who loves being a girl dad the most, it must be your husband — gojo satoru.’

☀︎｜tags. girl dad!gojo x female reader. fluff. you’re married. reader gets called ‘mama, sweetheart’. wrote this at work so not beta read. fic one out of two for satoru’s birthday!

giggles fill the living room — familiar laughter that sounded like your daughters’. a more sultry and manly voice also resonates in the background. one that you could recognise from miles away.

your curiosity leads you to investigate the source of the joyful sounds and soon enough, you find your dear husband and daughters sitting on the couch. though, in a situation you hadn’t quite foreseen.

satoru was talking on the phone about important business whilst your little girls were giving him a rather sparkly makeover. the most heartwarming thing was satoru’s surrender to your daughters’ antics — allowing them to do whatever to his face and hair.

“mhm, yeah..” the white-haired sorcerer hums over the phone, not having the slightest idea about what ijichi was yapping about. probably something that has to do with the recent sighting of a special grade curse in the city.

but, that wasn’t satoru’s priority at the moment at all (even if it should have been). his focus was all on his two daughters that were enjoying their playtime with him.

“papa’s so pretty.” one of them comments with a big smile — a smile satoru wishes to protect until his last moment on earth. her fingers push and pull on a small strand of his hair, trying to tug it into another ponytail.

satoru had already lost count of how many messy and half-done ponytails his snowy hair got divided into. the same goes for the amount of stickers on his face and neck.

the two sisters work together to put another pink and glittery sticker on satoru’s chin — though were no match to their father’s playful attitude. he jerks his head forwards and teasingly nibbles on their tiny hands that came in touch with his face.

this causes almost ear deafening squeals to reverberate through his ears. not that he’s complaining — satoru loves to hear them.

“. . .gojo, are you listening?” ijichi’s shaky voice over the phone interrupts the squeals. satoru doesn’t even try giving a proper response and only mutters a quick ‘yeah’ between snickers. that was enough of a sign for ichiji to understand that he couldn't get through.

everyone knew how much satoru loved his little family. he cherished them and put them above everything, including his work. sometimes it was necessary for you to remind satoru that he's needed outside your home - that he was and will keep being the strongest sorcerer that people depend on.

"wow, you two really made papa super pretty!" satoru coos as his daughters bring him a hand mirror. his phone had already been discarded somewhere on the couch - not even bothering to hang up on ijichi first.

your husband effortlessly picks the children up and cuddles them close to his body, smothering them both in sloppy wet kisses on their cheeks and necks - making them giggle uncontrollably. "y'know, papa will give you both a nice little reward for making me so beautifu—”

a faint cough echoing from the mobile device next to them reminds satoru that he was still on call. he reaches out and grabs his phone, rolling his eyes in a sassy way before clearing his throat;

"i need to attend important business. see ya." the sorcerer declares and hangs up right after. to him, playing around and taking care of his daughters was more than necessary. even in comparison with an actual critical situation: it wasn't like there weren't any other special grade sorcerers that could take on the mission.

the second his phone plops back down on the couch, satoru's hands fly over to tickle his little girls' bellies. they wriggle and squirm around in his lap - squealing for help from their mama.

you had been watching the scene unfold from the doorway and decide to join in on the fun once you hear your daughters’ call. you gasp dramatically before scurrying over to the couch, acting like you were genuinely scolding your husband for his 'torturuos' tickles;

"oh no, my little girls!" you pout, taking in the way your daughters laugh and outstretch their tiny arms towards you, searching for an escape in your arms. you gladly help them away from their dad's grasp, though not without getting a whine out of satoru.

one of your daughters sticks out her tongue at the sulky sorcerer on the couch, the other mimicking her sister's actions. you chuckle and decide to do the same; frowning and sticking your tongue out.

"ack!" satoru clutches his chest, fingers curling around the material of his shirt like he just got shot. he topples over on the couch and acts dead with his eyes half closed, "i can't. . . believe. . . it. my girls hate me. ugh, my heart - can't take it."

you scoff at his exaggerated act. you were used to it after years of dating and marriage, but your daughters seemed to still take the bait. they writhe around in your arms and once you put them down on the floor again, they run back to their 'fallen' dad.

they shake him by his shoulders and harshly pat his cheeks in attempt to bring him back to life. a constant loop of 'papa!'s and 'wake up!'-s echo throughout the house. even some 'we're sworry!'-s thrown in-between.

satoru couldn't take it anymore and his arms move at the speed of light so he could pull both of his daughters in a big hug. he squeezes them a bit too tight to his chest, causing them to shriek and laugh.

"are you not joining us, sweetheart?" satoru asks with a shit-eating grin. it's then that you realise that he was blushing from pure joy — his cheeks rosy. well, you couldn't possibly deny his request when he was this ecstatic.

the high-pitched 'mama too! mama too!' coming from both girls mellowed your heart even more. and thus, you give in.

you happily join the pile - climbing on top of your husband and between your daughters which lay on each of his sides. your head rests on his chest, your eyes closed and your ears filled with laughter.

satoru eventually relaxes, however that genuine smile never leaves his lips. this is where he belongs. with his family - the most important thing of all.

[cybertron-after-dark]

Average transformers g1 episode:

Megatron is attempting to black out the entire sky across a hundred mile radius and funnel all the sunlight into one, concentrated solar death ray to target a heavy duty solar panel he's having soundwave and the cassetticons build in order to convert it to energon. Then he plans to hit the autobot base with the death ray just for funsies. Starscream plans to push Megatron directly into the death ray, also just for funsies.

Optimus sends Wheeljack and Spike to deal with it, along with two bots you're pretty sure have not been in this show before this point, but you're kind of past asking how many of these fuckers were on the ark offscreen when it crashed. One of them has the worst fake Canadian accent you have ever heard, and the other's name sounds inexplicably dirty.

Starscream tries to get Megatron to stand in the spot he told Skywarp and Ramjet to direct the death ray, but is interrupted when Rumble asks why Starscream stuck him with extra work (a task Megatron assigned specifically to Starscream). This vexes Megatron. The autobots show up and try to figure out what the point of the blacked out sky is while Starscream attempts to talk his way out of it. Then the death ray goes off two feet away from Megatron, which only pisses him off further.

The Canadian bot yells "AH BINARY-BEAVERS!!" because the death ray caught him off guard and completely gives away the bots' position. Soundwave immediately fires on them. Gratuitous robot violence ensues. Spike is generally useless and tries chucking rocks at Rumble. Megatron is too busy trying to almost-murder Starscream to bother with the autobots and just lets Soundwave handle it.

Probably-an-innuendo-name-bot is luckily a flier and takes the chance to see what's blocking the sun now that their cover's blown anyway. He gets up there and the seekers are sticking tinfoil on the clouds to make the tops reflective. The writers are really just hoping you don't think too hard about it.

Skywarp starts firing on dirty-name and calls him a nerd. Dirty-name takes evasive action. Skywarp runs out of ammo and starts just chucking tin foil at him. Dirty-name calls him dumb and says his processor is made of spare toaster parts. Then he crash lands and canada-bot asks if dirty-name's wings are spare toaster parts as well. Wheeljack yells that they'll all be spare toaster parts if they don't focus on the decepticons. The death ray goes off again and barely misses the autobots. Wheeljack corrects himself to Melted spare toaster parts.

Dirty-name gives Wheeljack the rundown on the tinfoil clouds so he can figure out a way to get rid of them while Canada-bot fights Soundwave and the cassettes in the background. Spike is kind of helping too sort of almost. Those rocks hes chucking sure are damaging. Ravage gets straight up drop kicked. It cuts back to Wheeljack whipping up a good old fashioned Device™️.

Starscream flies up past the tinfoil barrier while Megatron shoots at him. All the holes he's shooting in the blackout barrier are just making more, slightly shittier death rays and the main one is losing concentration. One of them hits Megatron right in the optic and he keels over with an over the top screech. Starscream descends, breaking another hole in the tinfoil to see a golden opportunity.

"MEGATRON HAS BEEN BLINDED!!! I, STARSCREAM AM NOW YOUR LEADER!!!"

Wheeljack finishes his Device™️: A grenade that makes tinfoil entirely invisible, thus rendering the whole weapon unusable. The writers are hungover, please do not think about it too hard. Pretty please. Dirty-name doesn't know if he can throw it into one of the holes in the barrier on his own since he can't fly in robot mode and he cant throw in altmode. Spike offers to get on his back and throw it in for him if he can get close enough. And he's just SO good at throwing things. The other two agree he's their best shot, they're so happy spike is around, couldn't do it without him.

Starscream is hovering in the air as he gives his Decepticon Leader Acceptance Speech he's prepared for this very occasion, golden light streaming in from the him-shaped hole in the barrier. Dirty-name and spike zip past him and spike makes the best goddamn throw of his life. Before starscream can properly question the Fucking Audacity of these autobots interrupting him while he's trying to have a moment, the invisible explosion goes off that the animators are just happy they don't have to put that much effort into drawing. Starscream gets knocked out of the air and crashes directly onto Megatron. This vexes Megatron.

Sky's normal again. Don't worry that there's still tinfoil there, don't even fuckin worry about it dude. Spike and Dirty-name touch back down. Round of applause for spike for throwing super good. Wheeljack comments that he's just happy it blew up the way it was supposed to. Cue uncomfortably long laughing. Megatron manages to roll starscream off him and calls for a retreat.

Back at the decepticon base, Megatron has an eyepatch and is skulking. Starscream yaps about how it makes him look like a proper tyrant, brooding and battle scarred, and, dare he say, darkly handsome? This vexes Megatron.

[alchemistc]

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[faebled-stories]

Under Control

Le Sserafim's Kim Chaewon x Male reader

AN: First time writing smut and male reader. all for the request of my friend. (you know who you are)

Chaewon had always been the kind of person who thrived on control, keeping people at arm’s length with her sharp tongue and biting wit. Even before Yunjin met her, Chaewon had already cemented a reputation for being difficult—a self-proclaimed “brat” who could both charm and irritate in equal measure. Her mastery in pushing buttons was unmatched; it was as if she derived amusement from digging under people’s skin, just to watch them squirm.

Tonight was no different.

The soft hum of the café filled the background as Yunjin glanced at Chaewon from across the table. The overhead lights cast a warm glow, contrasting with the chill of the iced coffee Yunjin gripped in her hand. Outside, the faint sound of rain tapping against the windows added a rhythm to the evening, a subtle underscore to the tension simmering between them.

"You know unnie," Yunjin muttered, her patience starting to fray, "one of these days, your attitude is going to backfire." She took a long sip, savoring the brief respite as the coolness of the drink soothed her frustration.

Chaewon, lounging back in her chair with her usual casual defiance, smirked. The sharp lines of her bob cut swayed slightly as she tilted her head, her eyes glinting with the challenge she knew Yunjin was trying to avoid. "Backfire? Please. You know people love me for it, they pretty much beg me just to be in the same room. I can't help that I'm all that"

The confidence in her voice was almost palpable, filling the space around them. Her fingers traced the rim of her glass, a small, idle gesture that betrayed just how much she reveled in Yunjin's irritation. It was a game she loved to play—pushing, prodding, and watching to see how far she could go.

Yunjin sighed, rolling her eyes, the exhale carrying the weight of her exasperation. "It's exhausting, unnie. You keep everyone at a distance, do you know how many people come up to me and the rest of the members begging us to pass on a message to you. Not everyone’s going to play along with your games forever, you know."

Chaewon merely shrugged, her smirk unfazed. "Maybe I just haven't met someone interesting enough to bother with, actually no, it's impossible because no one will be able to stop me" She leaned forward slightly, the playful air around her intensifying. The soft light caught the edge of her grin, casting a mischievous shadow over her sharp features.

But Yunjin wasn’t letting it slide this time. Her eyes narrowed, lips twitching as a sly smile began to form. The café’s ambient noise faded for a moment as she leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Oh, don’t worry. That’s about to change."

For the first time that night, Chaewon's smirk faltered. She blinked, her brow furrowing just slightly as she caught the shift in Yunjin’s tone. There was something different here, something she couldn't quite place. “What are you plotting now?” The suspicion in her voice was thinly veiled, her usual bravado giving way to the sliver of wariness that had begun to creep in.

The café lights seemed to dim just a fraction as Yunjin picked up her phone, her fingers dancing over the screen with a practiced ease, the number wasn't saved but her fingers seemed to by typing out of muscle memory. Her smile grew, her excitement barely contained as she made the call, sealing the fate of the days to come.

“Hey… yeah its Jen, I need to borrow you… no no no, not for me but for a friend”

---

Days later, the sun had just begun to dip below the horizon, casting a deep orange glow over the café’s interior. Chaewon’s arrival was met with the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversations blending together. She slid into her usual seat across from Yunjin, her sharp eyes immediately picking up on her friend’s uncharacteristic excitement.

"Okay, spill." Chaewon’s eyebrow arched as she studied Yunjin’s barely concealed glee. "What’s going on? You’ve got that look again."

Yunjin leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that seemed to hover between them. "You’re going to love him."

Chaewon crossed her arms, her posture stiffening as skepticism washed over her. The café’s warm light bathed her in an amber hue, highlighting the suspicion etched into her features. “What? Who are you talking about? What are you planning, Yunjin?”

Yunjin’s grin widened, a spark of mischief dancing in her eyes. “Just trust me. He’s perfect for you, in more ways than one.”

A faint drizzle had begun outside, the rain tapping lightly against the window panes as Chaewon’s curiosity was piqued despite her better judgment. She huffed, feigning disinterest even though her mind was already racing through the possibilities. “I swear, if hes like anyone of the weirdos i’ve met i'm going to kill you”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Yunjin interjected with a barely suppressed chuckle. “He’s not what you’re expecting.”

The rain outside grew heavier, the pattering against the glass intensifying as if matching the undercurrent of tension that began to fill the space between them. Chaewon’s gaze flickered to the window, watching the droplets streak down before returning to Yunjin, her suspicion deepening. She could feel something shifting—something inevitable on the horizon, just out of reach.

“Cmon it's almost time” the red head pulled her leader out of her chair as the excitement was too much for her to handle.

---

The bar’s atmosphere was different from the quiet warmth of the café—darker, more intimate. The amber glow of low-hanging lights bathed the space in a soft golden hue, casting long shadows across the floor. The air was thick with the scent of worn leather and whiskey, mingling with the low murmur of voices and the steady thrum of background music. It was the perfect setting for what was about to unfold.

Yunjin leaned against the bar, tapping her nails on the counter as Chaewon adjusted in her seat. The space was comfortable, the kind of place they frequented, but something about the air tonight felt heavier, more charged. Chaewon’s eyes flitted toward the door as it swung open.

In walked Y/N.

He moved with a quiet, deliberate confidence that immediately drew attention. His tall, broad frame seemed to absorb the space around him as he made his way across the room, his dark eyes scanning before locking onto Chaewon’s. She felt the shift immediately—a faint flutter in her chest that she was quick to squash. Her fingers tightened around her glass, the condensation wetting her palm.

There was something about him that irritated her. The way he walked with such ease, as if the room bent to his will, set her on edge. Who did he think he was?

“Unnie, this is Y/N—Y/N, meet Chaewon,” Yunjin said with a grin, the playful glint in her eyes betraying her enjoyment of the situation. She greeted Y/N with a hug, whispering something quickly to him  "You know what to do." before turning back to Chaewon.

Y/N extended a hand toward Chaewon, but she didn’t move. Her smirk widened as she surveyed him, her posture cool, detached, as if she were appraising him like a figure in a gallery she was already bored of.

“Chaewon,” Y/N greeted, his voice deep and steady. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Chaewon’s smirk remained, but there was a sharpness in her gaze as she tilted her head. “Oh really? All good things, I hope,” she drawled, the sarcasm dripping from her words, “Or are you here to try and do what other couldn't”

Y/N lowered his hand without a hint of hesitation, his smile never faltering. “Yunjin did say you have a knack for getting what you want,” he responded smoothly, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. “She said you can be a bit… bratty when things don’t go your way.”

Chaewon’s expression shifted, her smirk vanishing, replaced with a cold, sharp glare. “Excuse me? Bratty?” The word lingered on her tongue like a bad taste. "That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugged, his gaze calm and unyielding. “Well, she did say you’re good at using that charm of yours to manipulate situations in your favor. I’d call that bratty.”

Chaewon leaned back, crossing her arms in defiance. “Manipulate? I prefer to think of it as persuasion, and I don't even have to try, It's not my fault they bend over backwards for me. ” Her voice was haughty, each syllable dripping with superiority. She tilted her chin up, daring him to challenge her.

Y/N didn’t rise to the bait. His response was calm, measured. “Whatever you want to call it. It’s a fine line between persuasion and manipulation, though, isn’t it?”

Chaewon’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, her eyes narrowing as she felt her control slipping, just a little. “You think you know me? You think you can come in here and figure me out with a few words?”

He smiled, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know everything about you,” he admitted, “but I know enough to see through the act.”

Her smirk faltered.

Y/N leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his voice soft but laced with confidence. “You hide behind that attitude because it makes you feel powerful. It’s how you keep people at your fingertips. But I’m not playing your game.”

The air between them thickened, the space closing as Chaewon leaned in, her glare icy. “You think you’re different? Special?” Her voice lowered, venom in every word. “You’re just like the others. And you’ll crumble, just like they did.”

Y/N’s gaze didn’t waver, his smile deepening slightly. “I’m not like the others. I won’t let you push me around.” He paused, letting the weight of his words hang between them. “You’re not as tough as you pretend to be.”

Chaewon’s breath hitched. The words cut deeper than she wanted to admit, and for the first time in a long while, she felt off-balance. Vulnerable.

But pride was a stubborn thing.

She straightened, forcing her usual smirk back into place. “ I heard that speech way too much. Do you really think you can handle me?” she asked, her voice dripping with arrogance, even though a flicker of doubt crept into her mind.

Y/N’s gaze softened, though his confidence never wavered. “I don’t need to handle you, Chaewon. I just know that you’re not as untouchable as you want everyone to believe.”

Chaewon leaned in closer, her voice low and dangerous. “ I'd like to see you try and prove it. I need a good laugh”

Y/N’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a quiet, unshakable confidence. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, “I will.”

Just then, Yunjin came back to grab her bag that she left next to her leader. Sensing the charged energy between them she knew it was time. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said casually, grabbing her bag. “Don’t kill each other while I’m gone,” she added with a wink before slipping toward the restroom.

Moments later, Chaewon’s phone chimed softly. She glanced down, seeing a message from Yunjin, who had left her seat.

Yunjin: His safe word is cantaloupe, I thought you should know. I told him not to mention it, but better safe than sorry. Have fun! xoxo

Chaewon stared at the text, her brow furrowing. "Safe word?" she muttered under her breath.

Before she could make sense of it, Y/N leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Yunjin has a blabber mouth, doesn’t she?" His voice was low, a quiet murmur laced with amusement. "She told me what you are. And what you need."

Chaewon’s cheeks flushed at his words, though she fought to maintain her composure. She pushed him back slightly with a scoff, though her voice wavered with a trace of uncertainty. " She might know a lot but she doesn't know everything about me"

Y/N’s smirk deepened, his dark eyes gleaming with a quiet intensity. "You’re a fake," he said matter-of-factly. "You go around pretending to be something you’re not, just hoping one person can challenge you. but deep down, I know the type of person you are. I've seen them multiple times. Yunjin knows it, too. You want to be put in your place. You need to be taught a lesson."

The words stung, but Chaewon couldn’t deny the way they ignited something deep inside her—fear, anticipation, and a thrill she couldn’t quite place. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to respond, her voice filled with false bravado. "And who do you think you are to teach me anything?"

Y/N’s expression didn’t waver. He leaned back slightly, his calmness almost maddening. "Someone who won’t let you get away with it." His voice was a low rumble, a quiet challenge that seemed to vibrate in the air between them.

It was a challenge she couldn’t resist, though hesitation lingered beneath her bravado. Her pride wouldn’t allow her to back down, even as curiosity gnawed at her. "I bet you’re all talk and no bite," she said, crossing her arms defiantly. 

Chaewon stood up with a huff, her expression a mix of determination and uncertainty, the storm outside mirroring the turmoil inside her. “Well, get on with it. Let’s go to the place where I will inevitably prove you wrong."

---

Once they arrived at his apartment, Chaewon felt a surge of confidence, believing she had the upper hand. The interior was cozy and inviting almost like there was a family inside, with dim lighting casting long shadows across the walls. The scent of something warm and delicious wafted through the air, enveloping her senses and putting her at ease. Chaewon looked around, feeling a sense of control return as she surveyed the space. “So, this is your home?”  she said, a playful smirk on her lips. “Nice ambiance, a little soft for someone with tough words don’t you think? I’m not impressed .”

Y/N turned to face her, his expression unreadable as he watched her closely. Chaewons pride was strong, really strong but seeing the look of the man in front of her For the first time in a long time, Chaewon felt vulnerable—truly vulnerable.

He looked at her with a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Strip," he said, his voice a command that sent a shiver down her spine. His command echoed through the quiet space. Chaewon's eyes widened, but she didn't move. "I said strip," he repeated, his tone unyielding.

Her hand started to move but it stopped, “What? You don't get to tell me that, if anything you should be the one stripping first” The Idols heart was pounding and she didn't know why but she was slowly crumbling.

“I'm not going to ask again” that's all Y/N responded with but his words held such power. They stared at each other for a while. Chaewon’s eyes were the first to break under the the pressure of Y/N’s stare

With a huff, she began to remove her clothes, each article dropping to the floor like a declaration of war. She felt his gaze on her, hot and assessing, as she revealed her body to him. Her cheeks burned with a mix of anger and arousal. Who did he think he was, ordering her around like this? And who was she? to blindly follow orders.

But as she stood before him in nothing but her matching bra and panties, her group's title on the hem of both, she felt a strange sense of vulnerability. Her usual armor of snark and sass had been stripped away, leaving her exposed and...wet?. She could feel the dampness growing between her thighs, and she hated it.

"On your knees," he said, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from arguing. She dropped to the floor, her knees bending on its own, her eyes flashing up at him with defiance. "Now,” he started, staring into her eyes  “tell me, who's in charge here?"

Chaewon opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat. She knew the answer, but she didn't want to admit it. The power she had clung to so fiercely was slipping through her fingers like sand. She could feel it, the shift in dynamics, the tipping of the scales.

Y/N stepped closer, his hand reaching down to cup her face, slightly squishing her cheeks together. "Answer me" he said, there was no room for argument in his tone.“I am?” Chaewon forced out. Her tone answered the question for her. He squeezed her cheeks tighter as he stared down onto her eyes. She couldn't stand him staring at her like that, and involuntarily her voice responded “You are” . It was quite as she was still clinging on the small thread of pride she had left, He let off the pressure on her cheeks. Before caressing it with his thumb “ Correct and tonight, you're going to learn what happens when you misbehave."

The air grew thick with anticipation, the soft lights casting a warm, flickering glow across their bodies. She got picked up with ease and placed on a brown leather couch. She was sitting on it as he stood above her. Chaewon felt the heat of his hand as it trailed down her neck, over her collarbone, and down to the swell of her breasts. She gasped, her body betraying her.

He chuckled, a dark sound that sent shivers down her spine. "So eager," he murmured, he grabbed her short hair and forced her to look down, her black underwear had a very visible wet mark. Chaewon stared at it in shock. Why is her body liking this? He then had his thumb circling her hardened nipple through the fabric of her bra. "But I do have a rule for girls like you, no cumming until I say so."

Her eyes widened, and she felt a jolt of panic. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go, he was supposed to be the one begging, like every other guy she had been with. Not her, especially not on the couch just in the middle of a living room. But as his hands continued to explore her body, setting every inch of her on fire, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she had met her match.

Y/N's touch grew bolder, his fingers tracing the middle of her panty, teasing and taunting her. She squirmed, desperate for more, for the relief she knew he could give her. But he remained in control, his eyes never leaving hers as he toyed with her.

"More" she whispered, hating herself for the need in her voice.

A small smile appeared on Y/N’s face “what was that?” Chaewon did not want to repeat herself, but as he kept tracing his fingers just inches to where she wants it, her words came out without a thought

“More!” this time it was louder

He leaned down, his lips a mere breath away from hers. "Not yet," he said, his voice a soft growl. "I want to hear you beg just a little while longer. It will be good practice for what you will endure"

The humiliation burned, but the desire was stronger. Chaewon had never begged for anything in her life, but as his hand slid down to her soaking wet panties, she found herself doing just that. "Please!," she cried, her pride crumbling like sand.

Y/N's eyes gleamed with victory, and he finally gave her what she needed. His fingers slipped inside her easily, stroking her with a skill that had her back arching and her eyes rolling back in her head. It was never easy for her. The amount of fake orgasms she had to do was a number she wasn't proud of. But almost instantly she felt the beginnings of an orgasm build, her body tightening around him like a vice.

It felt amazing but just as she reached the peak, he pulled away, leaving her trembling and desperate. "Not yet," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You still haven't earned it."

The night had turned into a battle of wills, Chaewon's pride clashing with her desperation. She begged, she pleaded, she cursed, but he remained unflappable. He could hear it in her voice that her heart wasn't in it yet.. Each time she was brought to the edge, he would pull back, leaving her gasping for air and begging for release.

It was a dance of power, one she had never experienced before. And as much as she hated to admit it, she found herself enjoying the thrill of the chase.

Finally, in what felt like hours for Chaewon, the last piece of pride hanging on by a thread had snapped, the unbreakable had been broken and… 

She broke.

"Y/N please, I'll do anything!" she panted, her voice raw with need. "Please, let me cum. I can't take it anymore, you win, PLEASE!"

Y/N's smile was wicked as he leaned down, his breath hot against her skin. "Anything?"

Her nod was frantic. "Anything. Please Y/N! "

With a chuckle, he leaned in, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Then, my dear princess, prepare to be tamed."

The words sent a shiver down her spine, and she realized that she had no idea what she had just agreed to. But in that moment, with the storm outside mirroring the tumult within her, she didn't care.

He picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom with an ease that belied his strength. The rain pattered against the windows like a drumbeat, setting the rhythm for what was to come. He laid her down on his large bed, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly stripped away her remaining clothes.

The thunder rumbled in the distance, a prelude to the storm he was about to unleash on her. Chaewon felt her body respond, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was his, utterly and completely.

And she had never felt more alive.

Y/N's touch grew more insistent, his fingers delving into her wetness, stroking her until she was mindless with need. His lips followed the path his eyes had taken earlier, kissing and nipping at her skin. Each touch was calculated to drive her to the brink of insanity. Chaewon could feel the tension in the air thicken, coiling around them like a living thing.

Her breath came in desperate pants, her body arching towards him. "Please," she begged again, the word falling from her lips like a prayer.

He smirked, his eyes dark with lust. "Since you asked so nicely, I’ll shorten the time. Just hold on a little longer okay?" he murmured, his hand moving to her throbbing clit. He rubbed slow circles, the pressure just right, and she could feel the beginnings of a climax building. It was as if he could read her body like a book, knowing exactly where to touch to make her squirm.

But just as she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped again. Chaewon let out a wail of frustration, her body trembling with the effort of holding back. "You're going to cum when I say you can," he reminded her, his voice a low growl.

The power exchange was intoxicating, and she found herself eager to please him, to do whatever it took to earn her release. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the words, but they spilled out anyway. "I'll be good. I promise. I’ll even say sorry to Yunjin if that’s what she wants. I’m begging you please let me cum"

He chuckled, the sound sending a fresh wave of arousal through her. "We'll see about that."

He began to speed up his touch on her again, she was dripping more than ever, his touch feather-light. Each stroke brought her closer to the precipice, until she was begging for more. "Please, Y/N," she whimpered, her voice barely audible over the rain.

Suddenly, she felt his fingers plunge deep inside her, and she lost control. Her body bucked against his hand and like a switch something clicked, without her choice she had the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced ripped through her, her inner walls clenching around his fingers her voice screaming as if she was in a climax of a song, but this climax was different than anything she had before. For the first time in her life, she squirted, the wetness soaking not only her legs but the bed beneath her and her master.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, and then narrowed with a hint of anger and amusement. "You weren't supposed to do that," he said, his voice tight.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the pleasure was too intense for her to care. "I couldn't help it," she gasped.

He then let her legs fall as he stepped away, slowly undressing his clothes while Chaewon can barely watch him, her vision foggy and her legs still shaking, but what she could make out was him placing his keys, wallet and his phone off to the side as if there isn't and trembling idol just behind him. Any thought was immediately pushed out of her mind.

He walked over, his cock, not the biggest but larger than any she had ever seen in real life, standing tall and proud. She didn't want to think about it but her mind goes to Yunjin, what the heck, she's been taking this monster?  " It seems you're going to need to be taught a lesson after all," he murmured.

Y/N took his position and sat behind the idol and let her lean on him, she felt his member rub against her back there’s no way Yunjin took that for fun. Now facing the wall Chaewon justn noticed the abnormally large mirror facing perfectly towards her. She felt a slap on her thighs indicating for her to spread them. Once open her legs were locked as Y/N used his own legs to secure the position. 

He started to rub her breast gently pinching and pulling each nub. “Why did you cum without permission?” He whispered directly to her ear. The idol had done plenty of interviews but this was a question she couldn’t answer. 

A loud smack was heard across the room as Chaewon failed to respond . A smack directly to her sensitive area. “AAGGH” she squealed. Why was the smack making her more wet? was the only thought in her mind before it was interrupted “That’s not the answer I want”

“I-I don’t know why it just happe-“ another smack across her pussy, the sound that came from it was different, her pussy was soaked, and now Y/N's left hand now snaked around and found itself onto Chaewon neck giving a light squeeze. 

In the reflection Chaewon saw his other hand lift up about to slap her lower region again but she forced out the only answer she could think of. 

“I came because I’m a bad girl” she saw his hand stop before she continued “I’m sorry for cumming, I’ll do better”

“Good, but you still need to get punished” he released her legs before giving one more slap to her pussy he knew she was ready again. 

“On your hands and knees, show that ass to me” Not like before when Chaewon would hesitate, she almost immediately used her remaining strength to get on her knees and her hand resting on the sheets. She looked up and could see herself in the mirror, a sight she had never seen.

“Y/N I’m still sensitive, please be gentl-

Without warning, he entered her aching pussy, filling her to the brim and then some. Chaewon screamed as her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt herself stretch to accommodate him. He began to thrust, hard and deep, making sure to pull out just enough for Chaewon to think it was done before slamming back in, the sound of their bodies slapping together echoing through the room.

He didn't relent, pushing her past any limit she thought she had. Each stroke brought a fresh wave of pain and pleasure, until she was a writhing mess beneath him, her nails digging into the bed. She could feel her orgasm building again, despite the fact that she had just cum.

"Y/N, If I cum again it will hurt" she begged, her voice hoarse. "I can't take it."

But he was relentless, he began to speed up his hips pistoning into her without mercy. "That the point baby. you came without permission," he grunted. "Now you're going to be punished."

Her body betrayed her, responding to his rough handling with a second orgasm that was even more intense than the first. She screamed his name, her muscles clenching around him as she squirted again, less than before as she was empty. but the sensation is still overwhelming.

He groaned, his own release imminent. But he held back, he flipped her so she's now facing him, his eyes boring into hers. "You're going to cum again and again until I'm done with you," he said, his voice a command.

The thought was too much, her body already so sensitive. But she could feel it, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within her. Placing her legs on both sides of his torso he positioned himself so he was above her, piling down with force and giving her no room to move as he fucked her through the aftershocks, his strokes unyielding and unforgiving.

"Please," she whimpered, the same word she would use earlier but now for a different reason. tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "I can't."

But she did. Over and over, this position made it easier for him to hit that spot that everyone craved to be abused. until she was a trembling mess, begging for him to stop. Her voice was raw, her body bruised and sore. But he didn't listen, not until she was so overstimulated that she was begging for mercy.

As Y/N was using his body weight to press down even deeper into the idol she felt another one coming but this time she felt like she was at her breaking point. As the orgasm drew closer she tried her best to avoid it.

“No no no please noo-AGGHHH ” she screamed as she felt it, the pain of another orgasm, her pussy squeezed so tight it almost made Y/N pull out but he kept hammering

Finally, Y/N leaned down, his face flushed with exertion and pleasure. "Where do you want me to cum?" he asked, his voice thick with arousal.

For a brief, prideful moment, Chaewon considered telling him to pull out, to prove that she wasn't his. But the feeling of him inside her, the way he filled her completely, was too much. Her body was singing with the need to be claimed. "Inside," she gasped, the words foreign to her mouth. "Please, I need it." She instinctively wrapped her legs around Y/N leaving no room to pull out.

He groaned, his eyes darkened with lust. "As you wish, princess" he murmured,before he pressed a searing kiss to Chaewon, his strokes growing erratic. And with a final, powerful thrust, he came deep inside her, his thrust getting slower with each pump.

At the same time not even a minute after her last one, Chaewon's orgasm crashed over her, she had never ever had anyone cum inside her, even with a condom, the sensation set her into spasms of pleasure and pain so intense she saw stars. The idols' abs cramped for a couple seconds and her body quivered uncontrollably around him , her nails digging into his back as she screamed his name. Her voice was hoarse. It was as if her entire being was made of pleasure, and she was shattering into a million pieces.

As the tremors subsided, she collapsed against the bed, her chest heaving. The room was quiet except for their harsh breathing and the steady patter of the rain outside.

Y/N pulled out of her, and she felt the warmth of his cum spill out, mixing with her own juices. The intimacy of the moment was almost too much to handle. He took his finger and scooped up the leaking cum before placing it in front of the pillow princess. She took his finger in her mouth tasting the cocktail that they made, her pussy pulsating at the taste.

As Chaewon lay there, sweaty, trembling, and panting, she barely registered that the sound of the rain had stopped. The rhythmic pitter-patter against the window, which had once mirrored the erratic beating of her heart, was now replaced by a heavy silence that enveloped the room. The air was thick with the remnants of their passion, hanging like a cloud of heat and electricity, while the dim light flickered, casting playful shadows on the walls that seemed to dance in time with their heavy, labored breaths.

Le sserafims leader felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way that was both terrifying and strangely comforting. The cool sheets beneath her stuck to her skin, clinging like a second layer, and every inch of her body hummed with a lingering sensitivity, as if it had been electrified from within. She could still feel the phantom touch of Y/N’s hands ghosting over her skin, their warmth and weight a reminder of how completely he had taken control. Her legs felt weak, barely able to hold any tension, while her arms lay limp at her sides, as though every ounce of strength had been drained from her.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened. The memory was a blur of sensation—hands gripping, bodies moving in perfect sync, his voice commanding, hers yielding in ways she never imagined possible. She had never given up control so willingly, never allowed herself to be led so fully by someone else. It was foreign, intoxicating, and the overwhelming pleasure that had coursed through her body like a tidal wave had left her utterly spent. But at the same time she had never had an orgasm let alone multiple so full, so powerful, so electric, in her life. The realization sent a fresh wave of shock through her. It was terrifying, being so completely vulnerable, so stripped of her usual defenses. Yet, it was exhilarating in a way she had never known before. As much as she hated to admit defeat, she couldn’t deny that Y/N had proven himself to be more than she could handle.

Y/N leaned over, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, the touch soft, almost reverent, and in stark contrast to the intensity he had shown earlier. "You did well," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, a balm to her frayed nerves. "How did you feel? You know... being so obedient?" 

The words sent a shiver down her spine, her body reacting before her mind could fully process the question. Obedient. It was a concept that felt alien to her—Chaewon, who had always been fiercely independent, always in control, now reduced to something so pliant, so willing. It was as foreign as the deep, bone-deep satisfaction that still thrummed through her body. And yet, she found herself nodding, unable to form words, unable to refuse him anything at this moment. The submission was startling and in that silence she smiled softly and nodded her head.

Y/n smiled at Chaewons response, petting her hair affectionately  before he slid out of bed, his body glistening with sweat under the soft light, muscles still tense from exertion. Chaewon’s gaze followed him as he moved, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his back, the way his shoulders flexed with each step. The absence of his warmth left her feeling exposed to the cold air in the room, and instantly, she missed his presence. The space between them felt like a chasm, though it was only mere feet, and her body still thrummed from the overstimulation he had caused. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts and emotions she didn’t know how to process—desire, confusion, fear, and a strange sense of relief all battled for dominance in her head.

The sound of the bathroom door opening pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. Her body tensed in anticipation, a flicker of excitement sparking in her chest as she expected him to rejoin her, maybe push her over the edge again. But instead, the sound of running water filled the room, calming and steady. A few moments later, Y/N returned, carrying a warm washcloth. The contrast in his demeanor from moments ago—when he had dominated her completely—was stark. Now, his touch was tender, almost reverential, as he pressed the cloth against her skin, gently wiping away the sweat and the remnants of their passion. 

Chaewon squirmed slightly when he reached her most sensitive areas, the sensation still sharp, and he chuckled lightly at her reaction. It was a sound that was both comforting and teasing, a reminder of the control he still held. Yet, there was a tenderness in the way he cared for her now that spread warmth through her chest, a feeling she didn’t quite know how to name. Was it gratitude? Trust? Or something deeper, more dangerous, that she wasn’t ready to confront?

As he finished cleaning her, he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did," he whispered, his voice low but firm, the words laced with a promise that sent a ripple of something dark and thrilling through her. "But don’t forget, you’re mine now." The possessiveness in his tone made her heart race anew, a reminder of the shift in power, of the new reality she had stepped into willingly. 

And with that, Chaewon knew she had entered a world she had never known before—a world where she might just find that being tamed was exactly what she needed. Her body, her mind, her very will had bent to his, and instead of fear, there was an undeniable sense of liberation in that. 

---

Across town, in the dimly lit dormitory of the Le sserafim girls, Yunjin sat in her bedroom, reclining comfortably on her bed. Her breath was steady, though her pulse still raced from the high of her own release. Her lips curled into a satisfied grin as she slowly pulled her hand away from the waistband of her underwear, her fingers glistening from the pleasure she’d just given herself. The feeling of euphoria mixed with a deep sense of triumph settled in her chest. She had been listening… to every word, every breath, every plea, and every sound that had unfolded between Y/N and Chaewon, all of it pouring through the open line on Y/N’s phone.

Perfect, she thought, as she brought her fingers to her lips, licking them clean, savoring the taste of her own satisfaction. The echo of Chaewon’s voice, her begging, her screams, and her cries replayed over and over in her head like a song she couldn’t get out of her mind. Each sound had fueled her own pleasure, bringing her to the edge and pushing her over it with such sweet satisfaction.

Yunjin’s body trembled with the aftershocks of her release as she stared at the phone screen, the call still running, the seconds ticking away in silence now that everything had played out. She savored the moment, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, and let the sense of power wash over her. Everything had gone exactly as she had expected. Chaewon was exactly where she needed to be—under control, vulnerable, and pliant.

With a final glance at the screen, Yunjin smirked, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. She tapped the screen to end the call, and as the screen went dark, she let her head fall back against the pillow, letting her sleep take over with a smile on her face.

[lovemomhatepolice]

(my) world champion - max verstappen

navigation taglist requests

pairing: max verstappen x fem! reader

warnings: established relationship, cursing, p in v, pet names, English is my second language!

type: smut!with small plot

word count: 2k

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER, las vegas gp

summary: it's time to deal respectively with the winner of the fourth championship

more content: formula 1 masterlist, max verstappen masterlist

a/n: I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and my first thousand celebration

Las Vegas was noisier than ever before. Bright lights and colorful neon signs lit up the paddock. Noise caused by people who were celebrating. The night was amazing - and although Russell, Hamilton and Sainz stood on the podium, the eyes of most were on Max Verstappen. Vegas was not in his favor, but what it gave him was a fourth championship title.

Fireworks burst in the distance, showering the sky in golden sparkles. Cameras flashed, champagne sprayed, and his Red Bull team surrounded him with hugs and cheers. But through the chaos, Max’s eyes searched for only one person.

And then he saw you.

You stood on the side, waiting for Max to finish celebrating with his team. You were as happy as ever, wearing a jacket with his name on it, which you proudly displayed. This was your second time to stand by Max's side, celebrating with him this greatest of all possible victories. This year it was even more exciting - after all, there were as many as seven race winners, while the year before, besides your boyfriend, only two managed to break through.

Max walked away from his team, making his way through the reporters who insisted on getting his attention at least for a moment. When he reached you, the noise around you faded into the background. You smiled at each other, simply standing and looking into each other's eyes. It didn't take much to realize how close and important you are to each other.

“You made it,” you said quietly, and your voice trembled with emotion as you reached out to touch his face. “Four times, Max. You're amazing.”

He smiled, and adrenaline was still bubbling inside him as he drew you into his arms. “We did it,” he corrected, his voice muffled by your hair. “I couldn't have done it without you. All this time you've shown me that I'm more than just a man driving around the track”

“Oh stop, or my makeup will run off,” you laughed lightly, pulling away from him just enough to look into his eyes. Max focused all his attention on you. He didn't give a damn that there were people around who he should be interviewing. He didn't give a damn that there was even more formal business ahead of him. The moment he had you in his arms, he thought of nothing else. “And to me you'll still be the most beautiful,” he muttered, smiling at you. His hands moved to your cheeks and without a rush, he drew you even closer to him. Your lips joined in a sweet kiss. Your hands wandered over his collar from the suit he was still wearing. In the background you could hear cheers and photographers taking pictures of you, but this time it didn't bother you, you were already used to it. As soon as you felt his smile against your lips, you moved slightly away from him, but your foreheads were still connected.

"I love you the most, Max"

~~~

Inside the luxurious suite, Max reclined on the plush sofa, sliding his head onto the backrest. The faint clink of the champagne glass in your hand caught his eye and elicited a small smile as he looked in your direction.

“You did it again,” you muttered, and your voice was filled with admiration. “Four times. You make it look so easy.”

Max couldn't take his eyes off you. And even though you were already without makeup and your hair was already slightly curled, he thought you were the most beautiful thing that evening. You were wearing his shirt from the celebration, which was too big for you, but that was the whole charm. Surrounded by the lights of the city, you headed toward him.

“Easy?” he laughed, crossing his gaze with yours. “Certainly not with you distracting me from the side.”

You giggled quietly, setting your glass down on the table, then sat on his lap. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, combing through the faint stubble. “You love it,” you purred close to his lips until they met in the process.

“I love you,” Max replied, and his hands found their way to your hips, quickly finding a rhythm together.

Max's hands explored your body, memorizing every curve, just as he memorizes every turn of the track. Each kiss was unhurried, each touch purposeful, as if you had all the time you needed for each other.

Max's fingers entwined in your hair, tugging gently as your lips clung to his. The faint taste of champagne lingered between you, reminding you of the celebration just hours ago. This time the kiss was deeper, hungrier, as if you were pouring all the emotions bubbling inside you into it. His hands slid lower, grasping your buttocks and pulling you closer until there was no more space between you.

You didn't even notice when you found yourself in the middle of the bed in your hotel bedroom. It was even darker here, with only the golden lights from the street illuminating the room.

“You are mine tonight,” he said, his voice firm but laced with tenderness as he laid you gently on the large bed, his body pressing against yours.

“I've always been yours, Max,” you replied, and your voice trembled with both love and anticipation. “And I always will be.”

Max's eyes softened, and his intense gaze stopped on you as his hands roamed your body, each touch igniting the fire between you. He took his time, savoring every moment, every reaction - your sharp breath, the way your back arched under his touch, the way your hands gripped his as if you couldn't bear to let go.

You didn't wait any longer. In a heated kiss, your hands reached the faucets of his shirt, exposing his trained chest. You stopped your gaze on him for a moment, looking hungrily at your boyfriend.

Max smiled at your reaction, his confidence rising as he leaned closer, his lips brushing your collarbone. “Do you like what you see?" he teased you in a low and hoarse voice, causing you to shudder.

“Mhm,” you muttered, rising slightly from the bed.

Now the two of you were in one straight line, looking into each other's eyes. The room was filled with your uneven breathing, which grew louder with each passing moment. You could see that the way you were moving at the same time forcing Max to lie down on the bed by himself, as you had moments before, was bringing him out of the control he had just built up for himself. Rarely did Max lose control, and she relished the power she had over him at that moment.

You moved your hands down his torso, and your fingers followed the hard lines of his abdomen, tracing the contours with a slow, deliberate touch that made him breathe rapidly.

Your hands quickly found their way to the buckle of his pants, unbuttoning them as quickly as you removed his shirt. Along with his pants went his boxers, too, freeing him all over. His excitement was already evident, and the way your eyes lit up with mischief made his chest tighten. He propped himself up on his elbows to get a perfect view of you.

“You're too good for me,” muttered Max, his voice strained as you wrapped your hand around him. Your touch was light and teasing, too much for him.

“You deserve it,” you replied, then leaned in to place a kiss on the tip of him, and your tongue slid out to taste him.

Max's head fell back against the pillows behind him, and a low moan escaped his lips as you took him into your mouth. Your movements were slow and deliberate at first, and your tongue swirled around him as you explored every inch of him.

“God, you're perfect,” muttered Max, entwining his hands in your hair as you took him deeper.

You set a steady rhythm, your hand working at pace with your lips, looking at him through your lashes. The sight of you in such a state, so eager to please him, made his stomach clench with desire.

“That's right,” he groaned, and his voice was filled with pleasure.

Encouraged by his reaction, you increased your pace, your movements becoming more confident as you puffed out your cheeks and let him slide deeper into your throat. Max's hips moved involuntarily, and his body was overwhelmed by the sensations as he muttered curses under his breath. You licked slowly along his length, and your eyes never left his face.

You felt him approaching the edge, so you slowed down and your lips slowly moved away from his. Max hissed under his breath, looking at you with a mischievous smile, in which displeasure also prevailed.

“Don't be like that,” he muttered, looking at your lips next to his craving red member.

You giggled quietly before taking it back into your mouth, your tongue working expertly as you brought it closer to the edge. Max's breaths became faster, and his grip on your hair tightened as his muscles tensed. Max's moans soon gave their vent, his body trembled, and your mouth flooded with his cum. You swallowed it all, and your hands continued to work around him, helping him come down through the aftershocks.

Max was quickly over you, leaving you no longer in any clothes. His movements were quick and decisive, but gentle on you. It was as if he had the greatest prize in front of him, and yet it wasn't long before he won something else.

There was a warm smile on his lips and his body tensed from restrained desire. His weight pressing you against the plush mattress was grounding, but every touch made you float. His hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to leave a memory, drawing you closer until there was no space left between you.

His movements were slow at first. He tried to pick the perfect pace for you, but he didn't speed anything up, gently teasing you, seeing as you were impatiently pushing your own hips out to meet him. You arched your back, and his body instinctively pressed you against him. Max kissed you tenderly, but at the same time it was very intense, even making you dizzy - the best of your life. His hands moved over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist, trying to memorize every little part of your body, even though he already knew it so perfectly. Like a favorite circut he was never wrong on.

“God, [Y.N.],” he breathed, his voice strained as he tried to maintain control.

Max shifted slightly, adjusting your position to push in deeper, hitting a spot that made you moan into the hollow of his neck, and your fingers quickly went to his neck, pressing him harder against you.

“Let me,” he muttered, looking into your eyes. “I've got you.”

His hand wandered between the two of you, circling around your swollen clit, which was begging for attention. Because of the feelings you were experiencing, you practically screamed into his neck, crying from the pleasure. His words were your undoing.

The orgasm gripped you so hard that your body trembled under his heavier muscular body, which continued to smell of champagne. You clung to him, and your breathing picked up speed, turning into desperate gasps. Max came a moment after you, spilling inside you and creating quite a mess on the mattress beneath you.

You were both panting loudly, trying to catch your breath, but all you were able to do was laugh quietly. Max placed gentle kisses all over your face, ending with your lips. In his eyes flashed those beautiful skylights you hadn't seen in a long time through the pursuit of mastery.

“I've got you champion,” you purred, kissing him once again on the lips and smiling at the same time.

You could finally have a break from all the hype for a while, until the next season, where everything was going to start all over again, as it had for the past few years.

“For you I would even be able to give up the title,” he muttered, looking into your eyes.

And even though you didn't want to believe it, let alone for it to be true - you knew he was sincere.

A/N: God, I won't even hide how much I already want to end the season of smut. i have so many cool fluff stories that i want to publish!!! but it's my first time writing for max - i hope it went well

although I kept my fingers firmly crossed for Lando in this battle for the title of champion - congratulations to Max, he deserved it! May the next season bring us as much excitement as this one

I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and in my celebration to the first thousand!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[ellecdc]

Ok ok may i request a pt 3 to the zombies au where reader is trying to figure out how they fit in the dynamic with the boys. Maybe like halfway through they set traps or something around that the boys don’t know how to do, and the boys see. Also I feel like this would take place kinda shortly after pt 2, so the boys (esp Sirius) would be super protective when reader tries to walk around.

thanks for your request! I think this is the perfect prompt for the next part of this series <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who set up camp for the night [1.3k words]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

CW: zombie apocalypse happening in the background, reader is slightly shy in this, chronic pain, slight angst? but not much

“I think we should stop here for the night.” James declared rather ruefully, wincing after Remus tripped for the third time over the past few minutes.

“No, we’re nearly there.” Remus practically barked; pain and exhaustion intermingling in his tone as he tried to shoulder past James.

“You’re sore, Remus.” James tried.

“I’m fine.”

“Well I’m not.” You declared with a huff, shucking your rucksack off and letting it fall to the ground decisively with a thud. “I want to stop for the night.”

Sirius tried to ignore the protective fire roaring inside of him as he moved his gaze from Remus’ sore leg to take in your form.

He’d been more than a tad reluctant to have you join them on this excursion, but after what took place the last time they’d gone without you, well, there would be no arguing with you (and, Sirius had to admit, rather reluctantly, that he felt better when he was able to keep his eyes on all three of you). 

So, while Sirius was already accustomed to keeping a close eye on Remus to see when his knee or hip started acting up, he’d been keeping an equally close eye on you. 

He had noticed you'd been quiet today -  he wasn’t sure if you were just trying to be particularly agreeable so that they wouldn’t fuss over you (or leave you behind again), or if you really were content - but as he took a quick inventory of you, he couldn't seem to find anything wrong with you.

But it was the way you looked up quickly to make eye contact with him that let him know you were doing this for Remus’ sake.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Sirius agreed, playing along as he pulled off his own rucksack and sat on a log.

“I know what you’re doing.” Remus spat at Sirius, though it was you who let out a long sigh in response. 

“All we’re doing is taking a break, Rem.” You murmured patiently as you dug through your bag, and most of the ire that Remus had been directing at Sirius melted away when he turned his gaze to you. 

Sirius wasn’t sure if his capitulation was at your use of his nickname, your soft, calming tone, or just because he didn’t really know you well enough to take an attitude with you the way he did with James and Sirius.

But what really struck Sirius was the fact that he didn’t feel at all bothered by the fact that Remus was willing to argue with him and not with you. He found he couldn’t blame Remus, really; you were difficult to be mad at.

Sirius never had a difficult time being mad at anyone, though, hence his temper with you last time. 

“I’ll run back to the river and collect some water, okay?” James offered then, clearly speaking to Remus though the stubborn sod wouldn’t look at him. 

“Thanks, James.” You agreed when it became clear Remus wouldn’t.

James shot you a grateful smile and Sirius a pointed look - keep an eye on them - before heading back in the direction of the nearest stream. 

“Where do you think we should sleep, Moons?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” He grumbled petulantly as he sat down directly on the ground and stretched his leg out.

You and Sirius shared a look before you picked up your bag and moved to sit a few meters away to give them some privacy. 

“Don’t be grumpy with me.” Sirius whispered, sitting beside Remus and nudging him gently with his elbow.

“I’m not grumpy, Sirius, I-” Though Remus cut himself off when he realized he was really only serving to prove his point. 

“Listen, we take care of each other, okay? James always packs the heaviest stuff into his rucksack. You never let either of us clear the room first. And we make sure you take breaks when you need it. Yeah?” 

Remus let out a long sigh and craned his neck until it cracked as he kept his eyes trained on you. You’d pulled out a spade and a rod that seemed to snap together to form a long shovel and were digging into the earth. Sirius found that this was something he'd grown to like about you - the three boys relied heavily on one another, “should I go down to the river and collect water?” “Sure, and I’ll try to find us some shelter”, and nothing got done until they had formulated some sort of plan - but you saw something that needed to be done, and simply did it, unprompted. 

Sirius, Remus, and James once came back from bathing in the river to find bowls of soup waiting on the makeshift table; you barely commented on it as you grabbed your towel and walked down to take your own bath. One morning after a trip to town that saw James’ glasses snapping in half after a close encounter with a zombie, they woke to find the bridge of the frames taped back together for him. 

Acts of service, Remus had called it one night when Sirius voiced his observation, it’s how some people show they care. 

He didn’t know why you would - care, that is - though he certainly found that he (and Remus and James) cared an awful lot about you. 

Remus had rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder in way of apology as they watched you work, and Sirius felt slightly embarrassed about the fact that a) neither he nor Remus did anything to help set up camp whilst you and James fussed, and b) didn’t actually know what you were doing, yet enjoyed watching you do it nonetheless. You dug a hole about a foot deep before pulling some seeds from feather reed grass nearby, dropping them, and watching them drift to the east with the wind. You picked the shovel back up and began digging a second hole at an angle nearly a foot to the west from the first hole.

And to both Remus and Sirius’ surprise, by the time James appeared through the brush with two jugs of water, you had a concealed fire roaring in your hole. 

“Whoa,” James called rather breathlessly, “did you bury the fire?”

You chuckled at James, though Sirius could tell you were turning slightly bashful. “I, well… it’s called a Dakota fire…it uses the wind to keep it burning, and produces little to no smoke.”

James let out a breathy yet impressed ‘huh’ as he turned to look at Sirius and Remus - both sitting uselessly - as if saying ‘are you seeing this? Can you believe her?’. 

���That’s rather clever, Y/N.” Remus called as he stood - hip audibly clicking and eliciting a small wince from the tall boy, though Sirius knew it was good for Remus to keep it moving - and made his way over to inspect your handiwork. “It’s concealed too; we could leave it burning overnight without worrying about being spotted.” 

“Right.” You agreed, clearly finding it impossible to look directly at any of the boys. Sirius found it rather adorable. 

“You sound surprised by her clever nature, moons.” Sirius taunted, relishing in the way you went from bashful to straight up timid. “Well, since she’s the only one you won’t bark at, why don’t you sit here and help her keep the fire going now that she’s already done the hard work, and Jamie and I will set up camp?” 

And before either of you could argue, Sirius stamped a loud kiss right on the side of Remus’ face that he pretended to wipe off in disgust, and a much gentler kiss to the crown of your head before he and James headed back towards their bags. 

“So sodding cute.” James whispered gleefully as they pulled out the tarp and sleeping bags from their rucksacks, stealing glances over at the two of you ever so often in a way he knew James thought to be discreet.

Sirius didn’t know whether James was talking about you, shy and bashful from the praise Remus was no doubt showering you with right now; Remus, and his lovesick gaze as you explained the steps of building your Dakota fire; or Sirius being brazen enough to plant a kiss to your head for the first time.

But Sirius found he didn’t need to know, because he certainly agreed.

It really was so sodding cute.

[sahisan]

— curiousity killed the cat.

featuring . pm!dazai osamu.

tags . suggestive, so slight nsfw. civilian!gn!reader. dazai's a bit sick. just pmzai things yk (he's scary). weapons described (he has a gun). blood mentioned. gunplay mentioned (brief suggestive description). wc 1.8k.

author note . this is so random i don't even know if the paragraphs do well together bc i just poured my most random thoughts into it and i was sleepy and barely managed to proofread it. yep. i imagined mostly 20-22!pmzai here. continuation kinda here.

dazai hid many things. he hid them well; years of being on constant standby, awaiting, on guard about anything enemy or not related. he hid in the shadows no matter day or night, but the shadows didn't always necessarily mean him only scrambling around in narrow alleyways or in the safety of the headquarters—in reality, he spent little time in the latter, nor did he 'lurk in the shadows' often, unless on a mission.

he hid everything from everyone, including you; of course including you. and the thing that bothered him the most was you finding out about what he does. did. has done. keeps on doing every day. not only does he not want the port mafia's countless enemies to know about you, but dazai also dreads the thought of you getting even a little bit closer to the truth of what he does for a living. he thinks of how he might slip one day and just reveal his true nature, intentionally or not, and either let you be disgusted and scared or kill you immediately because you might report to the police; it bothers him in both ways.

dazai avoids the area of your home when out at work. he makes sure to put on some casual clothes before visiting your place. when things are bad, work routine and you colliding together closer to night, he makes sure to hold a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his inner pocket to quickly wash away the stains of blood from his clothes. he keeps a bit of cologne there as well, to hide the stench of blood he usually reeks of during the day—he doesn't even use cologne daily. if you need him right after work, he disposes of his weapons, giving them away to the underlings that follow his word.

everything is always under control.

like tonight. he'd had a "kill and dispose" assignment, after which he'd had to go to yours and spoil you with a movie night he promised you. ah, the long-awaited respite from everyday bloodshed.

yet he was still on guard; he always has been, but today was busy and rough and all he needed was your embrace and a movie as a background noise while he showered you with kisses and cuddled you with neverending hugs.

and dazai forgot.

already at your doorstep, already having ringed the bell by your front door when dazai looked down at himself and—

fuck.

there was a small but clear blood stain right next to his tie. ah. how great. he definitely won't have time to remove it, but he might try to win some time to divert your attention from it if you notice—and you will, if he doesn't do anything about it.

with the door opening, dazai threw himself at you, literally waltzing into your apartment, hip to hip, your left hand in his right and his left hand at your waist, he led you through the corridor in an almost hasty improvisation of a dance, causing his tie to sway just in the right direction and have you giving him a look that screamed "you and your antics again?". good.

"ah, you look especially divine tonight," he mused, nuzzling your neck and making you place your chin on his shoulder; very good, the stain was out of your sight at least for now, and he couldn't be happier about that. "i haven't had dinner yet but i already know what i want for dessert."

distract. distract and avert and keep away—best tactic of dazai's that rarely failed, and he was used to putting it to use everywhere he could, including you. you could be perceptive or gullible, didn't matter—it worked wonders on anyone and will continue working for as long as he wanted to.

dazai swayed you around a few more times, dancing his way into your living room while humming a nauseatingly sweet, random tune he made up in his head a second ago. hip against yours again, he let a content smirk wash over his lips.

a clank. soft, quiet sound of metal clanking once echoed through the room, and it was almost eerie silence aside from his barely audible humming just as his hipbone met yours.

that didn't sound good, considering the only thing on his hip was—

ah. dazai forgot two things tonight.

in reverie about cursing himself head to toe in his mind, he lost the sensation of your touch until it felt too suspicious and he was too late, you reaching for the side hem of his coat and tugging it away from his side to reveal it to the light. you were always so curious, and he couldn't tell whether it was bad or good for him in general.

the soft clink echoed once more as your fingers grazed the object, and his eyes narrowed. the gun. shit. in his distracted state, he'd forgotten to dispose of it along with wiping away the blood.

dazai's hand shot out from beneath the coat, and he knew he wasn't doing himself a favor by raising his hand to grab yours, only revealing the holster further, but he didn't necessarily give a shit right now. he ought to do more than care about the gun right now, like a proper boyfriend, first being calming you down and assuring you it's not loaded and isn't as scary as it looks and that you shouldn't be afraid and the second being change of course of the conversation so seamlessly that you forget about the weapon for the rest of the night at least (unfortunately, the last sentence never crossed his mind).

but when did dazai ever go according to an adequate plan?

his hand held yours in the air, palm gliding up and down your inner forearm, trying to, first, soothe every negative emotion that might come up on the surface of your face, as well as keeping your curious hand away.

"ah-ah-ah, how naughty," dazai purred, voice dripping with false sweetness even as his eyes glinted with dangerous amusement; what he was supposed to be doing absolutely slipped from his thoughts the second he sensed the quickening of your heartbeat and breath and the cautious halting and tensing of your body against his, and he was already getting hard just from this. sick. "what did i tell you about wandering hands, hmm?"

he ground his hips against yours once after that, letting you feel the growing hardness in his pants. distraction. that was the key. keep you focused on his body, on the pleasure he could give you, and you'd forget all about that pesky gun in no time.

“careful there, baby. wouldn’t want you to accidentally shoot yourself,” he said with a twisted, growing grin. his other hand, previously holding your left one, slid away from it to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your jawline in a mockery of tenderness, visible eye looking down at your mouth.

"i'd hate to see those pretty lips marred by blood."

and yet, once he'd lifted his eyes up to yours, dazai could feel you tense under his touch, heart racing beneath your skin. he knew that look in your eyes, that widening of your pupils; he was all too familiar with it. fear. he had been so focused on the thrilling, twisted satisfaction the situation brought him momentarily, that he hadn't noticed how his actions were affecting you. his grip on your wrist loosened, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your inner wrist.

dazai sighed, deciding it was time to stop scaring you with both his demeanor and the weapon, even if it wasn't what he wanted right now at all; he had a switch to pull off, an appearance to keep up in front of you. ah, but how he'd love to prolong that moment for just a little longer: your fear palpable in the air, that scared glance you cast at him once, the trembling of your hands, hitch in your breathing and increase of your heartbeat.

maybe later.

"easy, easy," he murmured, voice low and soothing even as his mind raced. he tapped the holster twice. "it's not loaded, see?" a lie. "just a little souvenir," a lie. the gun was always loaded, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice, but you surely didn't need to know that. he'd already subjected you to more horror than a civilian would need to witness.

dazai leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he spoke. "you know i'd never be involved with these types of things and would never hurt you, right?" honey-sweet, dripping with false sincerity words. what he was absolutely best at was lying and manipulating, and he couldn't even control it anymore; if he needed you to believe, he will make you believe, one way or another.

"but you also shouldn't go poking around where you don't belong," he purred lowly with an audible dangerous lilt to his tone, lips now moving lower and ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck. "who knows what kind of trouble you might find yourself in. curiosity killed the cat, you know. you never know when you'll be the cat. and I'm not sure i'd be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

dazai could try to keep you away from his sicko tendencies and mind and thoughts that were all over the place and mingled together; the thoughts of protecting you from all of this meeting the ones of putting that gun to better use that just shooting people. and right now, he was barely holding it all in.

think of it this way: the thoughts of keeping his precious favourite civilian away from the corrupted knowledge and pain and feeling you tremble in fear underneath him, with the barrel of his gun tracing over your bare skin and getting dangerously close to where you'd need him most? oh, did the latter make dazai's stomach contort with desire and hips buckle up into yours. he would have to think more clearly about this later when his head wasn't a wreck of everything at once, but now...

"you want to play with something hard, baby?" dazai murmured in the end, all sultry and beaming with desire. "i'll give you something much better than a piece of metal to wrap your pretty fingers around."

dazai was sick and his mind twisted and he didn't get how he could ever keep someone like you by his side, but he supposed it was fate; and for as long as fate was merciful to him, he would make good use of it.

"but behave, hmm?"

[queers-gambit]

Silence

prompt: ( requested ) anxiety plays tricks on your mind, making you mistake your boyfriend's stress for anger - at you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 2.5k+

note: it's short but to the point.

warnings: cursing, hurt and comfort, depiction of mental health: anxiety, slight self-destructive thoughts.

Silence could be a good thing.

Libraries were silent for ample focus. Theaters were silent during the showing. Sometimes, long drives were peacefully silent.

Silence could also be a bad thing.

Demanding an explanation and the silence stretches. The silence before a doctor delivers life-changing news. Asking someone if they're okay and they don't answer.

When your boyfriend, Carmy, had returned from work that evening, he slammed the front door, dropped his backpack, toed out of his shoes, and stormed around the apartment silently. He didn't greet you, didn't offer a kiss, nothing - just breezed past you as if a pile of dirty laundry he's ignored for the past two weeks. You watched him from the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine, worry sprouting in your gut and chest. It was obvious something was bothering him - but couldn't fathom what it was that made him ignore you; to make him not look at you one single time.

It was like you weren't even there with the way he projected his moodiness. Even on his worst days, he always always always greeted you with a kiss; but the lack of affection hallowed your chest into a pit, wondering what you had done to make him avoid you.

Suddenly, the silence was eerily deafening, coiling your stomach and pumping lead through your veins; no TV or radio switched on to fill the void and create passive, background audio. Carmy was obviously upset about something, but the fact that he didn't even look at you made you think he didn't want to talk. This worried you because before dating, you and Camry Berzatto were the best of friends; talking about literally any and everything you could think of. He came to you with every single grievance, every frustration, every slice of drama - so why wouldn't he now?

Unless... Unless you were the cause of his annoyance? The idea made the pit in your chest stretch to your gut - anxiety rapidly spreading, confusion warping rational thought into something darker and self deprecating. The idea of upsetting Carmy - or anyone, for that matter - was enough to bubble nausea and turn your skin clammy. Muscles tensed, eyes darted, and your mind was plagued with every single thing you had said or done in the past 16 hours.

However, your memory couldn't pinpoint any moment you could've upset him; things had been normal and easy-going lately, there being no clear indication you were the culprit of Carmy's anger. However, there didn't need to be anything clear because your mind was fully convinced you were the bad guy now.

After swallowing a gulp of wine, your eyes adverted to give him privacy and begin on dinner; being obvious that his phone was much more important than you right now. Unfortunately, when it came to picking which sauce to dress your meal with, you were forced to slowly enter the living room where your boyfriend had taken refuge.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hmm?"

You tried not to be offended by his lack of verbal acknowledgement, but your intestines flipped and grew heavy. "Uh, just wondering, you want the marinara or Alfredo tonight with the - "

"Doesn't matter, you choose."

"I mean, which would you prefer?"

"I just said it didn't matter," he repeated with a hardening tone, "it's not like it's a difficult decision to make."

You didn't want to make his attitude worse, so you backed off silently and returned to your task. Yes, yes, Carmy was the professional cook between you but that didn't mean he wanted to come home and continue the act. So, you learned a few new recipes to keep meals interesting - a feat your boyfriend didn't seem to appreciate or even recognize most days. Tonight especially.

Tension tangibly filled the apartment the longer the silence stretched. Your mind conjured a hundred questions at once, begging your mouth to run rapidly if it meant getting answers - yet your logic stuck the words in your throat, refusing to let them fly, and even shoving them deep down for your soul to hold.

You poured a second glass of wine, throat thickening with silent emotion. There was always the worry in the back of your mind that Carmy would one day realize you didn't fit into his life and would break up with you. Or that perhaps, his irritation tonight wasn't due to anything you did specifically, but instead, was attested to your normal behavior and quirks - like the want to talk throughout the day.

Blinking the moisture away, you remembered Carmy hadn't answered a single one of your texts the entire day - a normal act for you, but maybe one that now got on your boyfriend's nerves. You dished up dinner, standing in the open kitchen with two plates and feeling silly for the nerves prickling your skin. You barely noticed the slight tremor in your hands. "Dinner's ready, Carm," you alerted, leaving the plates on the kitchen island you normally ate at; distracted by the need to pour a glass of water.

When you turned, your heart stalled in your chest when you noticed his plate missing - locating him in the living room, again, and it being obvious he didn't intend to eat with you. Now you knew for sure, you had indeed done something. So, you gingerly took a seat and tried to take up as little space as possible; shying in on yourself, eating silently and quickly so you could do the dishes right after.

Sure, there was usually the rule that the cook didn't clean, but there was no way you were gonna ask Carmy to do the simple chore; afraid of pushing him over whatever edge he teetered at. After storing any leftovers, you started the dishwasher and retreated to your bedroom with another glass of wine and the intention to get a bath. You felt like a glaring inconvenience all of a sudden, regret inking your blood and reprimanding yourself for being so - so - so... Clingy?

Is that what it was? Did Carmy think you were clingy? Perhaps texting him throughout the day without him ever answering was the final straw of annoyance he felt toppled the haystack. You wanted to apologize and eliminate the tension, but couldn't necessarily understand what you were sorry for; thinking you were simply paying attention to him, being attentive and interested in his everyday life.

Maybe you needed to apologize for being suffocating? Was that it? Your love was suffocating him? Was he feeling pressured by you? Did he think you two too comfortable in this relationship? Was your wall of texts an indication you were more serious than he? Oh, God, was that it - did Carmy think you were getting too serious, too fast?

Granted it'd been a few years of dating, a lifetime of friendship before that - so how much more serious could you get? Why would your attempts of communication rub him the wrong way? How could the pair of you ever manage to fall off from the same page? Make him think you were pushing for something more? Didn't he know he was enough for you? Didn't he appreciate your presence? The want to be closer? Your desire to maintain the friendship your relationship was built off of? The appreciation you had for him? The support you wanted to offer?

You soaked in epsom salt for the better part of half an hour. Draining the tub, drying off, and changing into pajamas were done silently; feeling almost fearful to venture out of the bedroom to return your wine glass to the sink.

So you decided to just get in bed, figuring if Carmy was so angry at you that it resulted in him ignoring you, he wouldn't want to sleep beside you, either. With your thick framed glasses on, you nestled into bed with your newest novel, trying not to let your mind go into overdrive as your need to fix whatever was upsetting Carmy was overwhelming. Yet there was also the nagging idea that trying to fix whatever was 'broken' would've made things worse - again, resulting in you doing nothing and giving Carmy his space.

The silence haunted the apartment like a ghostly presence; leering over your heads, embracing you uncomfortably.

When the bedroom door opened, you masked your surprise and just read the same paragraph three times in a row - distracted by your boyfriend milling around, preparing for bed. Your eyes widened in shock when the bed dipped and shifted, jostling you as Carmy got into bed beside you, but you still didn't look up from your book.

"What're you reading, sweetheart?"

His mood swings often gave you whiplash. You glanced at Carmy, finger holding your place to let you fold the book over and present the title on the cover. You worried that anything you said and did could make this tension fester, so, you remained silent and went back to reading.

"Is it any good?" He pondered, watching your profile. You nodded mutely, lips slowly rolling between your teeth in a show of anxiety Carmy could now recognize. "Hey, hey, you all right, babe?" He asked softly, sounding mildly confused - perhaps even alarmed.

"Yeah, 'course," you mumbled.

"Well, how was work?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

There was a brief pause, then Carmy gently pried, "C'mon, baby, what's wrong? Why're you so quiet?" He chuckled gently, "Usually so talkative in the evenings."

You offered him a bewildered look with slightly pinched brows, swallowing nervously and slowly shutting your book to trace the spine mindlessly in an effort to distract yourself. Typically when anxious, your hands needed stimulation, something tangible to do and feel when your mind numbed with nervousness.

With a great deal of bravery, more than you thought was necessary to muster when talking to the person you love, you asked softly, "Are you mad at me, Carm? I mean, did I do something? T-To upset you?"

"Wait, what?" He asked in confusion. "Nah, baby, you didn't do anything, why would you even ask?"

"'Cause you've been ignoring me...?"

He scoffed, "Ah, 'cause I didn't answer your texts?"

"That, and you've been ignoring me in favor of your phone since you got home. Slamming doors, brooding in the living room, didn't eat dinner with me - got a little snappy when I asked what sauce for dinner? Feels like I did something but I don't know what, so I don't know how to fix this."

Carmy sighed, leaning back to the mound of soft and fluffed pillows you had stacked on your shared bed. "Shit," he breathed, huffing a dramatic sigh, "didn't even realize I was doin' all that, baby."

"If you're mad, just tell me what I did - "

"No, no, hey, hey, hey, hey," he rushed, turning on his side to look at you, elbow supporting his weight; clocking the glassiness coating your eyes. "You didn't do anything, baby, I swear. There's nothing for you to fix 'cause you didn't do nothin'. I just - I've been havin' a shit day, didn't realize I was bein' mean to you let alone that you'd take it to heart."

"Kinda hard not to when I'm the only one here."

"No, right, I get that," he sighed. "I'm sorry, baby, I know you get anxious when I shut down like that, but I promise, I'm not mad at you."

"Well, who else would you be mad at? I thought you were annoyed 'cause I was texting you all day. Thought I was, I don't know, being clingy or something since you didn't answer me."

Carmen frowned, "Sweetheart, no, hang on, listen to me. You didn't do anything to upset me, okay? I didn't answer you 'cause I dropped my phone in the sink and it got all glitchy, I couldn't answer you. I tried to fix it when I got home, but I think I fried it - should just get a new one. It was just one of those days that everything went to shit, it all built up, got the better of me."

You nodded, still looking dejected and making a shot of guilt plunge his heart. "You usually talk to me when you're upset," you pointed out softly, "and when you didn't say anything, I thought I was the reason you were upset. Figured you wouldn't talk to me if I did something to cause your attitude."

"No, hey, I'm sorry, c'mere, baby," he opened his arms and curled them around you when you shuffled into his chest. "Shit, I'm really sorry, I didn't even realize what I was doing - but Goddamnit, that's no excuse, though. I don't mean t'take my shit out on you, you don't deserve that."

"I just got a little nervous, maybe let my anxiety get the better of me."

"That's okay," he promised, kissing your forehead, "I can understand why. I was a dickhead, being snappy and ignoring you when all you do is support and love me. I'm real sorry, sweetheart," he sighed against your skin, tightening his arms to keep you cocooned in his warmth. "You know, you can always talk to me - don't gotta shut yourself down and avoid me."

"Do you even hear yourself? Should take your own advice."

"Yeah, I should," he smirked. "Hey, promise I'll do better not to shut down like that."

You nodded in acceptance, wondering softly, "Do you wanna talk about it? Whatever happened today?"

"Uh, nah, you know what? Think I owe you some cuddles, maybe a dessert? You know, to make up for my bullshit attitude."

"You don't have to - "

"I got you all worked up, feels like the least I can do."

With a hum, you smirked, "I won't say no to a slice of cheesecake."

"What baby wants, she gets," he grinned, a hand caressing your cheek to direct your eyes up to his. His thumb swept back and forth under your eye, "Still sorry about today. I didn't mean to be such an oblivious dickhead, I swear."

You nodded, "I know, baby. Just don't shut me out next time. Had me worried when you didn't even kiss me when you got home."

"A heinous crime on my part," Carmy smirked. "Should I remedy that?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

He chuckled and pressed his lips to yours in a soothing kiss, hand sliding to the back of your neck. It was a slow and languid kiss, something he took his time in engaging; lips sticking together, moving in-sync, creating chains of saliva when he pushed his tongue against yours. "Yeah," he mumbled, "I'm the dumb fuck who had you thinkin' I didn't want this from you." He pressed another kiss to your waiting lips, "You're intoxicating, baby - always want your kisses. Yeah? Always. The day I don't, take me out back like Old Yeller."

You wanted to voice that he wanted your kisses now until one day, he simply wouldn't - but refrained from doing so because you knew it was just anxiety talking. So, instead, you chuckled at his comment and leaned in to initiate your own kiss.

requesting rules and masterlist

FX's The Bear masterlist

[sayuri-of-the-valley]

On how Crowley and Aziraphale felt during the kiss (but mainly Crowley here):

Ok so first, the main idea for this huge meta is that a LOT of us noticed how the music from the kiss scene is similar to the nebula one, right?

Second, a lot of us also correctly noticed the parallels between the kiss and how it was to taste food for the first time for Aziraphale: bc of his reactions, the hand on lips, the similar way MS acted both scenes, the little inhale etc. So how was it for Crowley?

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss is practically a puzzle to solve on its own, so it's fun to analyse it, but basically, in a few words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley and he discovered he was physically starving for him, longing for him, yearning for him, for his kiss, and he had no idea. Just like with the ox. And now he needs to gorge himself in him but he can't. Great amazing heartbreaking chef's kiss someone give MS an Emmy.

But there's already so much amazing meta out there about Aziraphale x Ox ribs x The Kiss that I want to focus on Crowley here, and on the music.

So back to the music. The song in "Before the Beginning" and the song that plays during The Kiss (I Forgive You + Don't Bother) are so similar. They're not *exactly* the same, but they're totally reminiscent of each other. The viewer is immediately reminded of those chords that played in the opening scene. It's no coincidence that the fandom was talking about this fact only minutes after first watching those final fifteen minutes. This is an obvious intentional choice for storytelling reasons (David Arnold is a genius).

I have no expertise whatsoever when it comes to music, so I asked our friend @otsanda to see if that made sense and not only it does and she explained it, but she also uncovered so much more hidden meaning in all of it (musicians are amazing), so check out her meta about the music that not only serves as evidence to what I'm proposing here but it also has so much more juicy information in it 💖.

Back to the point: WHY thought? Why choose a similar song? Why intentionally COMPOSE a similar song for that moment?

Hear me out. WHAT IF, by reminding the audience of the creation of the nebula, they meant to convey to us that, for Crowley, kissing Aziraphale gave him the same feeling that creating his stars did?

THAT'S what the music is telling us. THAT'S why it makes us remember "Before the Beginning". It may sound cheesy, but Crowley may have literally seen stars when he kissed Aziraphale. He couldn't react accordingly (just like Aziraphale couldn't), bc it was an overwhelming and extremely sad moment (the music is also telling us that) for both of them. They knew it was ending . They were both having a moment of huge revelation that was fated to not come to completion. Crowley was right, it was too late.

It makes sense to show Crowley's feelings through the music, bc he was the one who started the kiss, and also he was wearing sunglasses in that scene, it's different from a character like Aziraphale that has all his million expressions for everyone to see at all times. And they've been doing this ever since s1 with the Queen songs that play in his car or in the background.

So my point is: the same song being used there makes me wonder if kissing Aziraphale finally gave him what he lost. His purpose. What Aziraphale was trying to give back to him by taking him back to heaven. There's no need for Heaven. Just kiss him, Aziraphale, and there he'll find the stars you want to give back to him. There you will one day see that smile on his face you saw Before The Beginning. Neil Gaiman and David Arnold I am in your walls 😭

This is what may lead us to see this happiness in Crowley again (not the action of kissing itself, of course, but what it represents to their relationship, them being together, them being an Us).

As @otsanda said: from the music we can interpret that that moment was a Revelation for them. Almost a religious experience. Crowley found his purpose again. What he'd been missing the whole season (or even his whole life since the Fall, but we've seen him especially depressed this season).

I'm not even getting into the poetry of how one can interpret the parallel to the angel's reaction to the kiss as carnal, and the demon's as religious; that would be another whole essay but let's just agree that it's incredibly beautiful. (Let me be clear that I mean here Aziraphale's reaction is carnal specifically for Crowley, and Crowley's is religious specifically for Aziraphale, not religious as in "worshipping god")

"Do you ever wonder what's the point?" Crowley asked in s2e1. The point, for him, is Aziraphale (if you've seen The Good Place you know what I mean). I hope he figured this out with that kiss, even as heartbreaking as it was. Even if it was a (temporary) separation kiss. (I hope Aziraphale figures this out with time too, that he's more than enough to make Crowley happy, that Crowley doesn't need Heaven, or stars, that Crowley needs him.)

Maybe that's why Crowley didn't leave and kept waiting outside until the very last moment.

Aziraphale and Crowley both bit the apple at the end of s2. There's no turning back from that Knowledge now.

Edit: I just have to add here this brilliant colour analysis of the nebula scene by @halemerry. And it's pointed out that during the nebula formation there's a moment when it looks like two people embracing. And the fact that a similar song is used in the actual Kiss scene I just... I have no words

[ozzgin]

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] | [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

[shapelytimber]

Ok hear me out.......... wlw Wilhuff Tarkin and Orson Krennic-

the dynamic very much is unhinged creative vs rigid control freak in a context of evil bureaucracy- and personally the context is why I love to read stories with imperials jdjdkd nothing is more crack cocaine literature for me than to make drama in a space office filled with awful people

More flavor text and me trying to sell you on why this ship of two truly terrible people is great below vvv

For Krennic, lean more into the evil genius artist. She's been up for 46 hours straight drawing schematics, she's rambling about incomprehensible shit, her only meals have been cigarettes and energy drinks, she's so full of herself she might one day think she's god, she's gonna die by 60. She doesn't care much about the politics of the empire, but they don't bother her either. She works for the imperials because they have a lot funds to give to engineers willing to build them a battle station the size of a moon capable of blowing up planets. Before that she worked on a lot a architectures on imperial center/Coruscant.

The imperial uniforms are a bit boring- so I'm taking full advantage of the fact Krennic is more of an engineer/architect to tweak her uniform a bit (and the cape was already not respecting regulations sooooo) For Tarkin I'm keeping it tho, this woman won't be caught dead without it.

For Tarkin, lean less into the whole buff survivalist aspect- she very much was in her youth, but she *is* a 65 year old woman based on *Peter Cushing*, and has been in a very high and prestigious position within the empire for the past 20 years. She still as an extensive knowledge on how to survive in nature, and fight with her bare hands or a knife, but that doesn't come up very often in her line of work anymore. She still killed a space bear unharmed when she was like 17 tho. She hates chaos and developed the main philosophy that drove the empire to this day : to govern with fear and impose order. She is a bloodthirsty woman in her sixties, with a never ending hunger for power, currently cheating on her wife with a coworker she hates.

They both love the death star more than they tolerate each other, but they did end up bonding over plotting the demise of one coworker they couldn't stand and digging out rebel spies. Make no mistake tho, this is very much a love triangle/trouple between two women and a giant battle station.

In the end, Tarkin killed Krennic by shooting her from orbit with the death star, the project was finally finished, she didn't need her anymore and she might have gotten in the way of her control of the station.

Tarkin dies a few days later during the battle of Yavin, along the death star, not willing to back down in her moments of glory.

PS : a lot of this is inspired by the fic "Propagating structure" by oneinspats ! it's what made me like and understand this pairing, and is truly a great work of fiction. I really think this fic is a masterful work when it comes to expending the character of Krennic, and extrapolating on existing things. Exploring his more creative side, his passion for his work, his truly abysmal lifestyle, giving him a hatred of nature and a background as an architect on Coruscant. While also keeping his horrific aspects, like reading his internal (or external) monologues sometimes makes my skin crawl with how disgusting his ideas are and how deep they run, but making him an interesting and compelling protag for the story. While all of it is surrounded by this delicious dramatic irony, because we know that no matter how hard they try to scheme (or fuck), the death star will blow up and it's incredible.

[paulyenvol6]

Relief

Daemon Targaryen x Dornish POC reader

Based on this request

(Thank you for the request and feel free to send me whatever you would like me to write :))

Contains: smut, lactation kink, breast and nipple play, kissing, giving birth, mentions of pain during child bearing, very soft and kind husband Daemon, fluff

Wordcount: ~2.27k

Masterlist

You felt a stitch in your breasts just like you had the past days but still you remained feeling ashamed and tried to ignore the pain.

As if this pregnancy wasn't already exhausting enough and now there was an additional discomfort. You crossed your legs and tried to shift your position while holding your chest in an attempt to make the ache go away but it didn't work. In fact you knew what this was about; your body produced too much milk and it made your breasts feel swollen and sore and you hated it so much that tears threatened to well in your eyes.

It was stupid, it was unfair and you just wished it would magicially vanish. This hadn't happened during your pregnancies with Maela, your eldest daughter and Daerion, your son. Not that these pregnancies hadn't had their complications but at least your breasts hadn't produced so much milk that you nearly couldn't stand straight and had to rest against the wall in order to support yourself at times.

Your mood only worsened when guards came into your chambers, which you had visited this afternoon to seek some comfortability, to tell you that the hand of the king, Lord Dylvin had some business to discuss with your husband and you. You pressed your lips tightly together but heaved yourself from the chair.

"I'll be there. Just a minute.", you told the knight and he bowed. You didn't know what it was about and in truth didn't care either. That's why you didn't even receive the each person in the group of people standing in the corridor when the guards led you to Lord Dylvin. He was surrounded by the master of coin, master of whisperers, a steward and your husband, prince Daemon.

His sight brought you so much relief but at the same time you wished you could've remained in your chambers preferrably in a bath tub. But you were here now and when Daemon spotted you he immediately walked towards you and kissed you on your forehead.

"How are you, love?", he asked gently as though he could already sense that you weren't feeling fabulous. But you were too ashamed of telling him the truth and also simply didn't want to cause any trouble so you nodded.

"I'm fine, darling. Just a little tired." He took your hand in his' and then Dylvin cleared his throat and you found out that this meeting in the midst of the corridor was about the construction and refurbishments in the keep. King Viserys had ordered to have some parts of the castle renovated and had given your husband and you the task to watch over the work of the builders. So Dylvin led you through the castle while talking about things you couldn't receive. You really had tried and concentrated on his words but the discomfort was too much. His words faded into a bubbling in the background and your eyes were on the floor trying to collect yourself.

But Daemon had already noticed that something was troubling you. "What is it, y/n? You don't seem well."

You really were on the verge of breaking down but wanted to appear strong so you shook your head. "I'm well, really."

And for the next few minutes it seemed to you that Daemon believed you until suddenly when the group passed the small council chamber he gently pulled you with him and into the room. You gasped for air in surprise and confusedly looked to the door but were distracted quickly when your husband came close to you.

"I know that something is bothering you, sweet love.", he started. "Please, tell me how I can make it better."

"You can't make it better.", you insisted with a weak voice.

"What is it then?", Daemon said, softly caressing the side of your arms.

"It's hurting.", you whispered, because you knew that Daemon was so caring and protective over you that you actually shouldn't feel embarrassed telling him. He ran his hands soothingly over your shoulders and lowered his head so he could look in your eyes.

"What is hurting?", he asked softly.

"My breasts.", you said with teary eyes and pouted at him. "I think they're producing too much milk and so they're all swollen and aching and I feel like I can't do anything all day because it's always distracting me." Daemon pulled your head towards him and kissed your head.

"I'm so sorry, my love.", he whispered and your hands clung to his tunic. "I'm sorry, is there anything I can do?"

"No…", you said but your husband was determined to make you feel better so he held your face in his hands and ran his thumb over your cheek.

"Show me.", he whispered and you widened your eyes. "What?"

He smiled and looked down your body. "Please show me, sweetling. I want to help you."

You were suspicious and felt odd but did as he had told you so you removed one layer by one until your upper body was bare in front of him. His eyes ran over your figure and your swollen breasts and you nervously breathed. You knew Daemon for such a long time now that you were way beyond feeling embarrassed of being bare in front of him and yet you felt nervous with your aching breasts. But Daemon just reached out to you and caressed your waist.

"May I?", he asked looking to your chest. You were confused but even more curious so you nodded. His hands wandered up and he started to massage your breasts which made you sigh. It felt so good to have him distract you from the pain and though he couldn't make the swell disappear it felt so much better. Daemon was content with the look on your face and the way your eyes closed and smirked down at you.

His hands cupped and kneaded your breasts and you thought about if your husband could just do this for the rest of your pregnancy when he stopped and lowered his head. You wanted to stop and ask him what he was doing but something inside of you told you not to and because you trusted Daemon more than anyone else in the world you let him do what it was he was doing and felt him wrap his mouth around your left nipple. He had done this a million times already of course, almost every time when you had laid and created your children but this time it felt as though he had a purpose. His lips sucked at your nipple while his hand soothingly massaged your right breast.

Everything felt good to you and you wanted him to continue so you held on to his head as you felt him suck the milk that left your nipples. It brought you great relief and you felt your breath go slower than it had ever gone those past days.

"That's so good, Daemon.", you breathed and he licked and toyed with your nipple.

"I know, love. It's gonna feel so much better once I'm done with you."

You unconsciously smiled and dreamily watched his head as he was so determined to make you feel better and free you from the discomfort.

"You're so pretty, darling. Such pretty and sweet breasts. And the way you look pregnant with my child, it's making me go feral."

You quietly moaned as your left breast started to feel so much better and you were beyond relieved. As Daemon noticed it his mouth wandered to your right nipple and he repeated his technique.

"Seven hells, I can't believe the gods created something as beautiful as you and your pretty tits for me.", he moaned and roughly, but not so roughly that it would feel uncomfortable, kneaded your left breast.

You exhaled loudly and felt your milk spill and then being sucked up by your husband. It was odd, obscene perhaps, strange and new but you felt each and ever of your worries drop with Daemon's mouth on your tits and with him making the ache vanish.

"Yes Daemon.", you whined and wanted to let your eyes roll back. Your nipples felt vulnerable and sensitive so his swift tongue made them tingle with desire and then, you had lost your sense of time, he let go of your breasts and left you panting heavily and free of that uncomfortable feeling of your tits feeling too full. He crookedly smirked at you and you sighed feeling light.

"Thank you, husband.", you breathed and Daemon embraced you in a soft hug.

"No need to thank me, dear.", he whispered against your hair and his hand stroke your back.

"It's so much better.", you said quietly.

"From now on,", he then started and pulled you slightly away so you looked at him. "Every time your breasts feels swollen you'll come to me and I'll make you feel better."

Your heart fluttered and your knees felt wobbly and you felt like the young girl again who had laid her eyes on the rogue prince for the first time. You had been flushed, unable to speak an intelligent sentence, so taken had you been from his appearance.

"Thank you.", you breathed and he took your hand in his'.

"You're carrying my child, sweet love. That's the least I can do."

And then the two of you smiled at each other. The way a love couple did when they were in love and nothing in the world existed but the two of them. Daemon's hand reached down to caress your belly that was quite swollen by now and he lovingly watched the bump.

"I love you, y/n.", he spoke and in this moment you forgot why you had felt sad an hour ago. Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time from happiness rather than pain.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next months passed as they passed for a woman like you, pregnant with her third child. Or so you had thought because this pregnancy wasn't like the ones before but at this point you didn't know yet. Moons came and went and your belly grew bigger and bigger. As he had been with your first and second child, Daemon was at your side every moment looking out for you and caring only about your well – being and that of your children Maela and Daerion.

He joined you for baths, massaged your sore skin, dried your hair with towels, combed and oiled your hair, helped you get up from your chair as the pregnancy progressed and held you when you woke in the middle of the night because you felt sick. And as he had promised you, every time you felt that your breasts were filled with too much milk he put his mouth on your sensitive nipples and sucked at them in order to relieve you from the soreness. He would lick up the liquid, massage your breasts and afterwards you felt newborn.

And then you finally gave birth to your child with Daemon sitting by your bed and holding your hand while you pushed, pressed, screamed and cried. It was painful and exhausting just like you had already experienced it with the birth of your first two children but this time it was different. You had laid in your bed feeling tired but not the way you had before and then there was the maester's shout. "There is another!"

And you had gone through it again, pushed and pressed and then there was a second child. Twins, two little girls with the one crying and screaming while the other laid calmly in the maester's arms. Tears fell down your face as well but now it wasn't from the pain anymore but from feeling relieved and happy that you had just carried two healthy babes out in the world.

You were flooded with love and joy and Daemon's hand still enclosed yours as you ordered the maester to bring your children to you. And so he did after he had cleaned them. He placed the two small human beings on your breasts and your body trembled with this overwhelming feeling of love and relief. Daemon caressed the cheek of one of his daughters while you held the other.

"What should we call them?", you breathed while tears filled your eyes.

"I would like to call her Alyssa. After my mother.", Daemon whispered as he watched his child's small mouth that opened now and then to let out little noises.

You nodded. "Then she shall be named after my dear mother. Sheran." Your husband nodded as well and you even saw a tear rolling down his cheek while looking at his daughters.

"They are beautiful.", he breathed. "Like their mother."

You held your daughters carefully as if you were scared they could break. Another wave of tears flooded over you and Daemon soothingly ran his hand over your trembling shoulders.

"I love you, y/n. You are… amazing."

"I love you too.", you whispered and couldn't take your eyes off the delicate sweet creatures in your arms.

"Do you think Maela and Daerion will be happy?", you giggled and your husband scoffed. "It most definitely is unexpected. We were making them adjust to the thought of having one more sibling, but two? But I don't think there is a chance they can not love them."

You agreed and then the maester came back, who had previously left the room to give the two of you some privacy. Now he approached you as well to take a look at the twins, who contendly rested on your chest.

"Beautiful girls, my princess. They are strong, very strong."

Daemon smirked. "I should hope so. They're the blood of the dornish."

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, FINALE

Background: The future heir of Hell is on the way! Alastor has his doubts about being a good father and Lucifer is losing his mind.

_ _ _

(Y/N) Morningstar is due any day now!

That dreaded due date was getting closer and closer and honestly, Alastor didn't know how to handle it.

Of course, he was happy when he found out that his beloved was pregnant. From what he knew, sinners couldn't reproduce! But from a brief (while crying) explanation from Lucifer, (Y/N) is extremely fertile and this could continue happening or just be a one time thing.

Honestly, it broke Alastor seeing her miserable. Her swollen hoofs, going days without sleep because of their spawn kicking up a storm, and not to mention the crying. It didn't bother him that she became much needier, as he was happy to give her all the hoof rubs and cravings she desired.

Alastor felt bad because he hears her confide in Charlie, "honestly, I'm not sure I want to do this again. It feels like my body doesn't belong to me."

He's heard that some pregnant women feel that way, but the way her voice broke when she said it.

He'd never touch her again if she asked.

"Need anything, mon cher?" Alastor asked as she waddled to the bathroom.

"No, but thank you," She smiled. He had been so attentive and it made this pregnancy a bit more enjoyable.

(Y/N) hated herself. Not because she hated their child, no, but because she hated how she felt. She hated that she wasn't enjoying her pregnancy like so many other mothers, and hated how she felt like a prisoner in her own body.

But today: she'd be free.

"ALASTOR!"

A scream awoke the half asleep Radio Demon and he instantly appeared by her side, "what happened?! Are you okay?!"

"I think my water broke last nigh-ah! I'm having contractions!"

The baby was coming.

THE FUCKING BABY WAS COMING.

He instantly got them to the hospital, all while waking up the entire hotel. Vaggie shook Charlie awake, Husker threw a bottle at Angel Dust, and Niffty was frantically killing any bug she saw.

"MY BABY! WHERE'S MY LITTLE PUMPKIN?!"

Lucifer was panicking more than Alastor.

"Oh, my sweet pumpkin!" Lucifer ran to her side as she groaned at the contractions, her horns peaking in and out every time pain lashed through her body.

"Dad, it hurts."

"Where are the scrubs?! I need-!"

"Dad, isn't it the father who's supposed to get scrubs?" Charlie questioned nervously.

"But my baby needs me!"

"What I need is everyone to get the fuck out!" (Y/N) screamed, completely overwhelmed by all of it. Charlie dragged their dad out of the room, and Alastor stayed.

"I'm sorry," She began to cry, feeling horrible about yelling at him.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my sweet girl," His radio voice broke momentarily as he held her hand, "all this pain will be over and we can finally hold our child."

"I already feel like such a bad mom," She cried, "I'm supposed to love being pregnant, but I fucking hate it."

His heart ached for his sweet love. She was in constant pain but hated herself for it.

"I'd never lay another hand on you if it meant you'd never feel like this again," He confessed.

"I'll cut off anyone's hands who touch you."

She smiled at that, "I think. . .I think I'm done after this little one. Definitely need to find out if I can stop being so fertile."

But just as things were calming down, her hand tightened his, and another wave of contractions came. It continued like this for an hour, and with a few more pushes, their child was born.

And even though Lucifer tried breaking into the room, he kept away for a little while longer.

"It's a girl?" Alastor asked.

"Yes. Congratulations!"

"Oh, she's so precious," (Y/N) looked at their daughter, now resting in her arms. She had two small deer horns poking out of her soft head, a ruffle of red hair to go along with it.

"I will give you all the demon meat you desire," Alastor felt satisfied when he looked at his daughter, and felt a pang of happiness within him.

"I think I know what her name is, Alastor," she had been snooping around and found a name from his past, which would make her future husband all the more joyful.

"And what's that, my dear?"

"Manon," His smile faltered.

It was his mother's name.

He looked upon his daughter as she handed him over, her eyes opening to see the Radio Demon - her father.

"It's perfect," He smiled.

"Manon Morningstar."

When Alastor looked at her, all his doubts faded. He remembered how his mother doted on him, loving him and always being his number one supporter and just new that he would do the same for her.

"Can we come in?" Charlie asked carefully with Lucifer peaking in.

(Y/N) nodded and in came Vaggie, Charlie and Lucifer. Lucifer held two giant bouquets of roses, setting them on a table.

"Oh, she's adorable!" Charlie grinned.

"Would you like to hold her?" (Y/N) asked, and her sister happily accepted. The small demon wasn't fussy about being in her arms, just staring with curious eyes.

"Vaggie?"

Her eyes widened, "oh? Me? Uh, I mean, I don't know, I've never-"

"You'll be fine," before she could contest any further, Vaggie was holding Manon. Manon babbled at her, spit dribbling from her mouth as her hand reached up and pulled her hair.

"Okay! My turn!" Lucifer snatched his granddaughter away, staring at the baby with a happy-go-lucky smile.

"Oh you're so precious! I think you'll love duck's! In fact, it's your first toy," He squeaked a small rubber duck with wings in her face, and she began to cry.

"No, no, no, no! Please don't hate me! I love you!"

"I think mommy needs some rest, and Manon is hungry," Alastor scooped back his daughter, and Vaggie dragged Lucifer out as he cried over the fact that he is convinced his granddaughter hates him.

"She's perfect," (Y/N) sighed as she begun to feed upon her, and Alastor gave them both a kiss on their foreheads.

"You're perfect."