#I’ve finally had time and energy to draw again

[nobodyfearspercy]

Smh you work as a bounty hunter why are you showing up to work in a white suit

[possiblyfunny]

I forgot how to make posts, but don’t worry guys, I’m still alive-

Ghostly Assistance

Heyyy! I finally drew Leaf! (Plus a slight Aster redesign-) This took way too long, and I apologize for the delay and the overall messiness. She had been sitting in my drawing program as a sketch for two months 😅 but with the Flashbacks up starting in Missing Numbers, I finally got the will to finish it!

Leaf Aoyama belongs to @creatively-cosmic. They have a blog called @themissingnumbers, which you should check out, like—right now.

[Sketch + Extras below the cut!]

Here’s the cover of the book, if you wanted that- (I know it’s crap but I’m tired)

[And for those who are curious, some notes about the art:

-The book is Aster’s. He’s read the book cover to cover well over 25 times. It’s his favorite book on flowers, but he’s more than happy to lend it to someone who wants to learn about flora.

-The content of the art (because there was intended to be a background that got scrapped-) is that Aster was showing Leaf around his secret garden deep in the woods, guiding her so that she wouldn’t get lost and showing her the different flowers and such. (That’s why she has the book-)

-You know how in some video games, you can press a button and whatever special companion you have will show up to give you a hint? (Ex: Navi, Fi, Rotom, Olivia, etc) That’s what Aster is doing right now. Whenever Leaf had a question—he had the answers.

-And if you’re wondering—Yes. Aster did make her a flower crown afterwards. And Yes, he thinks she looks very beautiful with flowers in her hair.]

[moonstruckme]

pls hear me out 🙏🙏 vampire!james is recently turned and doesn’t feed cause he’s such a sweetheart he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

reader notices how weak he is and finds out he hasn’t been feeding and basically offers herself to him and it’s just really comforting and cute

Babe I hear you !!! I hear you soooooo clear (the voices omg, I was so excited to write this). Thank you for requesting!

cw: blood mention

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

James never had a problem with eating animals before he became a vampire. You pointed this out to him, once, but he only said it’s different. You suppose it is. The chicken nuggets he used to devour came to him cooked, fried, and with sauces, utterly unrecognizable from what they’d once been. There’s no separating the live-ness from what James has to eat now. 

You spy on him over the top of your book. He’s sitting on the other end of the loveseat with your feet in his lap, massaging your arches through your thick socks while he watches a football match on the telly. His dusky skin had paled after he was turned a few weeks back, but he looks even paler than that now. If he were still human you’d think he was anemic. It’s four in the afternoon, and your ball-of-energy boyfriend looks as tired as if he’s ready for bed. 

“Jamie,” you say, and he squeezes your heel to indicate he’s listening, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, lovely, yeah.” 

“Have you been feeding?” 

James stiffens at the term. “Mm, why do you ask?” 

It’s as close as he thinks he can get to a non-answer, and it’s an answer for you anyways. James can never stand to lie to you. It’s terribly endearing. 

You turn your foot to poke his abdomen. “I can hear your stomach growling.” 

His lips curve. He glances at you. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.” 

“Really? How does it work?” 

“I don’t actually have a clue.” James smiles, which was your aim. He’s been far too downcast for your liking, his new condition entirely to blame. 

“Well, you’re looking pale.” 

“I’ve been pale.��� 

“Paler than pale.” You set your book on the side table, moving closer to him. You sit with your feet folded under you. “Also, you haven’t been going out to feed like you used to.” 

James finally looks a bit sheepish. You smile and cup his face in your hand. Though he knows you know, James has still been a tad secretive about the vampire business around you. He sneaks out after he thinks you’re asleep. You’ll hear the front door open and shut when he leaves and then again when he comes back, the kitchen tap running as he cleans himself up. You wish he’d just use the shower. You don’t mind him walking through your bedroom with blood and dirt on him if it means he gets to feel clean when he slips back into bed with you. 

You rub your thumb over his cheek. “What’s keeping you?” 

He sighs. His face weighs a bit heavier in your palm. You think this must be progress, and you repeat your ministrations to his cheek to encourage it. 

“Everything’s hibernating,” says James, a quiet shame underlying his tone. “The…things I used to feed from are gone, and I’m not left with a lot of choices.” 

You hum. “Well, you’ve gotta eat, Jamie.” 

He hesitates, and you give him your sternest look. 

“You do. What about the deer?” 

“They’re harder to catch. And…I…I just feel bad, you know?”

You nod. Take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. Your poor sweetheart. You know James hasn’t killed anything he’s fed from, but even scaring them and potentially hurting them for the time it takes him to feed rattles him terribly. He’s too good, good and kind down to his core, but you know he’s going to have to find some way to cope other than starving himself. 

“What about people?” 

James’ eyes round behind his glasses. “Wha—no, I—”

“I wouldn’t mind you using me.” 

He seems to falter for a moment. His thick brows draw together in stages, from disbelief to confusion and back again. “Angel,” he says, “I couldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because, it’s—it would be—” 

“Or maybe we could try someone else. Someone bad, like a corrupt politician or one of those people who siphons money away from charities.” 

“No.” 

“Then we’re back to me.” You smile at him, one part teasing and two parts genuine. “James, I want to. I don’t like seeing you like this, and I really don’t think I’d mind it.” 

James looks like he’s still having trouble processing. “You don’t think you’d mind?” 

“I don’t,” you repeat patiently. “I’m sort of curious, actually. It could be fun.” 

He looks, to your surprise, like he might actually be considering it. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know if it’d be fun, angel.” 

“That’s okay,” you promise him. “I want to do it for you. You’re hungry, yeah?” You try to make your voice serene and persuasive, your hand coasting up and down his arm. “Let me help.” 

James looks you in your eyes. You hold his gaze. After a while, the fight seems to go out of him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. 

“Oh, baby.” You kiss him on his cheek, your heart bulging. “You won’t. It’ll be fine. How do you want me? Hair up?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s good the way it is. I think, um, it might be easier if you were in my lap.” 

“Okay.” You grin, lifting your thigh over his so you’re straddling him. His hands settle on your hips. “Are you romancing me? Is this part of it?” 

James lifts the corners of his mouth, but you can see the trepidation lingering beneath his smile. You do your best to soothe it away with your hands on his shoulders. 

“I want to be gentle with you,” he says.

“I bet you say that to all your victims.” 

“Sweetheart…”

“Sorry, sorry.” You’re nervous. You kiss his nose in apology. 

“If I hurt you—if you don’t like it for any reason, I want you to squeeze my shoulder. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod, trying to look certain. “Does it usually hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” James admits. “With animals, they don’t usually…move much after I’ve bitten them. I’m not sure if it stuns them or what.” 

“I’ll report back,” you say seriously. You glance down at the couch cushions. “Will it be messy? Should we go to the bathroom or something?” 

“No, I’m—I’ve gotten better at it. We should be fine here.” 

You smile at him, your pride genuine. “Sounds good.” 

James is starting to look worried again, so you kiss him. On the lips, as sweet as you can muster, and imagine all your love pouring through it. Then, you pull your hair to one side and bear your neck. 

His pupils splay out.

“Remember to squeeze my shoulder.” He sounds hoarse. One of his hands slips up your back to steady you beneath your shoulder blades. 

“I will,” you vow. 

James looks dazed, almost reverent. He wets his lips, and when he opens his mouth you see his tongue skim over pointed teeth. Some prey animal’s instinct sends a shiver of fear through you. Your blood hums with anticipation. But just before James’ teeth skim your neck, he pauses. 

“Jamie.” It’s soft, a murmur, a plea. “It’s okay. Do whatever you want with me.” 

He makes a quiet sound, like a sigh or a whine, and closes the gap. 

At first, it’s only like he’s kissing you. He’s exceedingly sweet about it, lips opening warmly over your skin, his tongue pressing over your artery as though testing the waters. He splays his palm wide over your back in silent warning before his teeth sink into you. 

There’s a sting, but you were ready for it. You keep yourself from wincing, from doing anything that would make James move away, and after a second the pain dulls. Everything does, except for the extraordinary feel of James’ mouth on you. 

“Oh.” Your mouth opens of its own accord, head lolling further to the side to give him better access. You want more, more of this, more of him. Your brain fuzzes and your heart pounds, every nerve in your body narrowing its focus to where James is sucking at your neck, lapping you up. 

You wind your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, and his palm coasts up your back comfortingly. You feel molten, spectacularly, transcendently languid, like you could press your fingertips to his shoulders and they’d melt right in. You don’t, not wanting him to misinterpret it as your signal and stop, but after a while James’ arms are the only thing keeping you from tipping sideways onto the couch, and he stops anyway. 

He finishes with a few chaste kisses, and you think giddily that you weren’t too far off about the romancing. 

“Y’okay, lovie?” he mumbles into your skin. 

You hum in reply. 

James presses one more sweet kiss to your neck, almost a thank-you. He seals the wound with his tongue. A giggle bubbles out of you, one shoulder coming up to ward him off. 

“Sorry,” you say to James’ surprised look. Your head is starting to clear. “That part tickled.” 

His grin splits his face, one part tentative and two parts relieved. “Yeah? Are you really okay?” 

“Super okay,” you promise him. You can’t help grinning. “You were right, it didn’t hurt. That was nice.”

James’ expression eases, some mix of relief and interest in his gaze. “Was it actually?” 

“Mhm. I would be your blood donor any time, really.” 

James scoffs, but he’s clearly elated. He strokes from your hip to your ribs with a big hand, trailing tender kisses up to your cheek. You’re thrilled to see how much more energy he already has. 

“I don’t know about that,” he says in between kisses. “I’d still rather not make you my victim if I can help it.” 

“I didn’t feel like a victim, if that helps.” Your words go mushy as he reaches your lips, but you keep talking, wanting to make your point. “I just mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Maybe when you’re lacking in other options.” 

“Mm, maybe. What was it like?” 

“Like a really good kiss.” 

James backs up from you to give you a dubious look. “Better than the ones I give you normally?” 

You grin. “Maybe a little.” 

His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drops open, curving on one side. “Oh, yeah? Bold claims.” 

“I don’t know if you can compete with whatever vampire magic that was, Jamie.”

“My kisses are very magical. It seems like I may have to remind you how good they really are, though.” 

You shrug coyly. “If you think you can top that, you’re welcome to try. I mean, you’re really only competing with your—”

James is on you before you can finish.

[pucksandpower]

Never? Never.

Day 14 → Innocence Play 💋 Lewis Hamilton

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The office feels charged. There’s a weight in the air, one that sits low on Lewis’ chest as he waits. His arms are crossed, and he leans back slightly in his chair, fingers tapping a slow rhythm on the armrest.

He’s not impatient, exactly. More … curious. A steady line of candidates has been moving in and out all morning, but none of them have made much of an impression.

Then the door opens.

You step in, and for a second, the world seems to shift. Lewis sits up straighter, the tapping on the armrest stops as his hand stills. It’s subtle, but something inside him clicks.

You’re standing there, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, dressed in a way that shouldn’t catch his attention but does. There’s something about you — something that feels out of place, but in a way that demands his attention.

You look young. Too young, maybe. But your resume … he remembers it well. It was strong, impressive even, especially for someone your age.

That’s why you’re here, why you got the interview. But now that he sees you — sees the way your lips press together nervously, the way your hands fidget at your sides — he knows. He’s already decided.

You’re the one.

He clears his throat, motions toward the chair opposite him. “You can sit.”

You hesitate for half a second, then move quickly to take a seat. Your movements are precise but careful, like you’re hyper-aware of the space around you.

“Thank you,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper. Lewis has to resist the urge to lean in closer, as if proximity could make you louder.

For a moment, there’s silence. It hangs in the air between you, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He watches you, studies the way your fingers lace together in your lap, the way your gaze flickers between him and the floor.

“So,” Lewis finally says, his voice deep, smooth, breaking the stillness. “You’re younger than I expected.”

You look up sharply, and there it is — that nervous energy he noticed the moment you walked in. “Is that … a problem?”

Lewis leans back in his chair, watching you carefully. “Not necessarily.” He lets the words hang, lets you sit with them for a moment. Then he adds, “Your resume says enough. But you know, experience counts too.”

You nod quickly, like you’ve rehearsed this. “I’ve worked hard to gain as much experience as possible, despite my age. I did an accelerated program, internships, and I’ve had hands-on experience in sports therapy.”

He smirks a little, not unkindly. “That’s what the resume says. But I want to know if you can keep up. My schedule is … demanding.”

“I can handle demanding.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, intrigued. There’s a quiet strength in your voice now, something steady beneath the nerves. It draws him in. “You sure?”

You nod again, a little more confidently this time. “I’m sure.”

For a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something about your determination, your innocence wrapped in a quiet kind of fierceness, that makes him want to test you. Push a little further. See how far you’ll go.

“You know what I do, right?” he asks, voice low, almost teasing. “How intense it gets?”

Your lips part slightly, eyes wide again, but you don’t look away. “I know.”

“And you think you can keep up with that? With me?”

You hesitate, but only for a fraction of a second. “I do.”

Lewis lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and there’s a flicker of something — something he can’t quite name — that runs through him. Maybe it’s the way you sit there, unwavering under his scrutiny. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re still so young, so innocent, yet there’s an undeniable strength beneath it all.

“You don’t look like you belong here,” he says suddenly, the words slipping out before he can stop them.

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t back down. “Maybe I don’t. But I can do the job.”

That makes him smile, really smile this time. “Confident.”

You don’t respond, just look at him with those wide, innocent eyes that make something inside him twist. He’s always liked control, liked knowing where everything stands, and right now, he’s trying to figure out where you fit into that. Because you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t affect him like this. But you do.

“Okay,” he says finally, breaking the silence again. “Let’s say I believe you. What makes you think you can handle me?”

You blink, clearly caught off guard. “I-I mean, I’ve worked with athletes before. High pressure, fast-paced environments.”

Lewis shakes his head, leaning forward now, arms resting on the table between you. “No. What makes you think you can handle me? It’s not just about keeping up with the physical demands. It’s about knowing what I need, sometimes before I even know it myself.”

You swallow hard, and he watches as you process the question. It’s not fair, not really, because how could you possibly know what he’s asking for? But he wants to see how you’ll respond, how far you’ll go to prove yourself.

“I … I think I’m good at reading people,” you say slowly, carefully. “I can pick up on what they need, even when they don’t say it out loud. I don’t know everything about you yet, but I’m confident I can learn.”

There it is again — that quiet strength. The determination that makes something inside him tighten. He likes it. He likes you.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now.

You blink, unsure how to respond. “Is that … bad?”

Lewis shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. “No. It’s not bad at all.”

There’s a beat of silence, then he adds, “You’ve got the job.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “But … you didn’t ask me any real questions. You haven’t seen what I can do.”

“I don’t need to,” he says simply, standing up from his chair. He walks around the table, stopping just in front of you. “I already know.”

You stand too, a little more slowly, still looking at him like you can’t quite believe what’s happening. “But … why?”

Lewis steps closer, close enough now that he can see the way your breath hitches just slightly. He lowers his voice, eyes locked on yours. “Because you’re the only one who walked in here and made me feel something.”

Your breath catches, and for a second, neither of you move. There’s something electric in the air, something that crackles between you, and Lewis feels it in his chest, in the way his pulse quickens.

“You’re going to learn a lot,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper now. “About me. About what I need. And I’m going to push you, test you, see how far you can go. But I think you’re ready for that.”

You swallow hard, and he watches as you try to steady yourself, try to keep up with the intensity of his gaze. “I … I am.”

Lewis nods, satisfied. “Good. We start tomorrow.”

With that, he steps back, giving you a little space, though the air between you still feels charged, thick with something unspoken. You seem unsure of what to say, how to respond, but Lewis doesn’t need words right now.

He turns, walking toward the door, but pauses just before opening it. Without looking back, he says, “See you at 6 AM sharp. Don’t be late.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, breathless and wide-eyed, already wrapped up in something you can’t quite name yet.

But Lewis knows.

He knew the moment you walked in.

You were always meant to be his.

***

The penthouse feels warm, alive in the afterglow of celebration. Outside, the city hums in the late hours, but inside, it’s just the two of you. The clink of glasses and quiet laughter fills the space as you sit on the plush couch, facing each other.

The race earlier had been electric — Lewis on top of the podium again, his smile wide and genuine, the energy of the crowd still buzzing in his veins. Now, it’s quieter. The adrenaline has faded to something softer, and there’s a comfortable ease between you that hadn’t been there in those early days. It’s been months of working together, and you’ve found your rhythm.

Lewis leans back, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm resting lazily on the back of the couch. His other hand holds a glass of Almave and he swirls the liquid idly, watching the way the light catches in the amber liquid.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his voice low, cutting through the comfortable silence.

You look up at him, blinking a little as if pulled from your thoughts. “Just … taking it all in.”

Lewis smiles, a slow, crooked thing that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good night, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “It was … perfect.”

He watches you for a moment, studying the way you say it, the way your eyes seem to sparkle just a little more tonight. You’re both a little tipsy on the high of the win and the celebratory toasts that followed. The Almave is smooth, the evening smooth, and everything feels just a little softer around the edges.

“You’re getting better at this,” he says, leaning forward slightly, eyes still locked on you. “The whole celebration thing.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be the one celebrating.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Why not? You’re part of this. Part of me.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, heavier than you expected, and you don’t know what to say. Lewis is always like this — direct, confident, never afraid to make you think, to push just a little further than you’re comfortable. It’s why you’ve grown so much since you started working with him. He makes you better, challenges you in ways no one ever has.

“You don’t have to keep quiet when things go well,” he continues, his voice soft but firm. “You’re allowed to enjoy it.”

You nod, but there’s something in your eyes, something guarded. He notices it right away, the way you pull back just a little, and he doesn’t like it. He wants to break through that wall you still keep up sometimes, even after all these months.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, leaning in a little closer now, his voice low and gentle. “You look like you’re holding something back.”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes darting away for a second before you force yourself to look at him again. “Nothing. I’m just … tired.”

“Liar.” He says it with a teasing smile, but his eyes are sharp, focused on you in that way he has, like he can see straight through the layers you try to put up. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nod, but there’s a hesitation, a flicker of something that passes over your face. Lewis doesn’t miss it. He never misses anything when it comes to you.

“You don’t believe me,” he says, voice softer now, almost coaxing.

“I do,” you protest, but it’s weak, unconvincing.

Lewis sets his glass down on the coffee table, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell me something,” he says quietly, his eyes holding yours. “Something you’ve never told anyone before.”

You blink, the request catching you off guard. Your eyes widen slightly, and Lewis can see the panic flash across your face, just for a second.

“I don’t know if-” you start, but Lewis cuts you off.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No deflecting. You can trust me.”

There’s a beat of silence, and he watches as you wrestle with yourself, weighing whether or not to let him in. He’s patient, though. He knows you need time. And he knows you’ll tell him, eventually. You always do.

“I don’t …” you start, then stop, biting your lip as you look down at your hands. “It’s … personal.”

Lewis leans back again, but his eyes stay fixed on you. “That’s the point. I’m asking you to let me in.”

You fidget in your seat, your fingers twisting in your lap as you avoid his gaze. “I’m just not sure if it’s … the right time.”

Lewis lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “If not now, when? We’ve been doing this — whatever this is — for months now. I think we’re past the point of secrets, don’t you?”

You stay quiet, your eyes darting to the side, and Lewis can see the internal battle you’re fighting. He can almost feel it, the way you’re teetering on the edge of letting something out that you’ve kept hidden for a long time.

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to place a hand on your knee, his touch light but grounding. “It’s just me. You know that, right?”

You finally look up at him, your eyes searching his for something — reassurance, maybe, or understanding. And Lewis holds your gaze, steady and unwavering, waiting for you to decide.

“I don’t know if you really want to hear this,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis tilts his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Try me.”

There’s a long pause, the air between you thick with tension. Then, finally, you take a deep breath, your shoulders rising and falling with the weight of whatever it is you’re about to say.

“I’ve never told anyone this,” you start, your voice shaky but determined. “Because it’s … it’s embarrassing. And I don’t really know how to-”

Lewis cuts you off, his voice gentle but firm. “Don’t overthink it. Just say it.”

You swallow hard, your eyes dropping to your hands again as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. There’s a long pause, and Lewis can see how hard this is for you, how much you’re struggling to get the words out. But he stays quiet, giving you the space you need, his hand still resting on your knee, a steady presence.

Then, in a voice so soft he almost doesn’t hear it, you finally speak.

“I’ve never had an orgasm.”

***

There’s a stillness in the room after your words hang in the air. Lewis watches you, his eyes sharp, but his expression softens — careful. He wasn’t expecting that. Of all the things you could’ve said, this isn’t what crossed his mind. But there it is. Laid bare between you both.

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” His voice is quiet, but there’s something darker beneath it, something that makes the air feel heavier, charged.

You don’t look at him, your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands still fidgeting in your lap. “I don’t … I don’t really know why,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just never happened.”

Lewis leans back against the couch, his arm sliding across the backrest, fingers just brushing the top of your shoulder. He’s processing this, taking his time. He’s no stranger to intimacy, but this is different. This is you.

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, sees the way you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice low, pulling you back from wherever your mind is racing to. “Look at me.”

You hesitate, but finally, your eyes meet his. There’s vulnerability there, a kind of rawness that makes his chest tighten. He’s used to seeing you composed, in control of yourself, even when you’re nervous. But now? Now you look small, like you’re afraid of being judged.

Lewis doesn’t judge. Not you. Not ever.

“First of all,” he says, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “there’s nothing embarrassing about that. Understand?”

You nod, but you don’t look convinced. He can tell this is something you’ve been carrying around for a while, something that’s weighed on you.

“And second,” he continues, his smile widening just a little, “I may be vegan, but I’d be more than happy to devour you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth parting slightly as his words sink in. “What?” You whisper, like you didn’t hear him right.

Lewis chuckles, low and deep, leaning in closer. “You heard me.”

He can see the confusion in your eyes, the way your mind is working overtime to process what he’s offering. He likes seeing you like this — unsure, but curious. There’s something about the innocence in your gaze that stirs something primal in him, something possessive.

“I-” you start, but you cut yourself off, clearly unsure of how to respond.

Lewis tilts his head slightly, watching you carefully, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to do anything. Let me take the lead.”

Your breath hitches, and he watches as your lips part again, eyes darting away from his. You’re nervous, he knows that. But there’s something else too, something that feels like anticipation. You’re intrigued, curious, maybe even a little excited by the prospect of letting go.

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers now twisting the fabric of your shirt again.

Lewis shifts, closing the space between you, his hand moving to cup your chin gently, turning your face so that you’re looking at him. “You don’t have to know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “All you need to do is trust me. Can you do that?”

You hesitate, your eyes searching his, trying to find something, some kind of reassurance. But there’s only certainty in his gaze, the kind that comes with confidence, with control. He knows what he’s doing, knows how to read you, and he wants to show you just how good it can be.

“Yes,” you finally breathe, the word barely audible but enough for Lewis to hear.

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing your bottom lip now. He watches as your breath catches, your lips parting just slightly under his touch. There’s a shift in the air between you, something electric, and Lewis feels it deep in his chest. He’s been patient with you, kept things professional, but there’s always been this undercurrent, this tension.

He’s not interested in waiting any longer.

His hand drops from your chin, trailing down your neck, fingers brushing over your collarbone. He watches the way your chest rises and falls, how your breath quickens just from the lightest touch. It’s intoxicating, watching you respond to him like this, and he knows you’re feeling it too — the pull, the anticipation.

“Let me show you,” he whispers, his voice low, almost a growl. “I want you to feel everything.”

You bite your lip, clearly still nervous, but you don’t pull away. You’re trusting him, even though you’re unsure of where this is going.

Lewis leans in, his lips just inches from your ear as he whispers, “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your body stiffens for a moment, but then he feels you melt into his touch as his hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer. It’s slow, deliberate, the way he moves, as if he’s savoring each moment, each small reaction from you. And that’s exactly what he’s doing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching your face, gauging how you’re feeling. There’s still that uncertainty in your gaze, but there’s something else too — desire. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and Lewis can feel it in the way your body leans into his, the way your breath hitches whenever he touches you.

“Don’t think,” he murmurs, his lips just brushing against yours, teasing. “Just feel.”

You nod slightly, and that’s all the permission he needs. He closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s soft at first, almost testing the waters. But as soon as he feels you respond — feels the way your lips part under his, the way you sigh into the kiss — it deepens. His hand moves to your waist, gripping you tighter, pulling you even closer as he takes control, guiding the pace, the rhythm.

You’re tentative, unsure, but you’re following his lead. And that’s all he needs.

Lewis pulls away just slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and he can feel the warmth radiating from your skin, the way your body is buzzing with something new, something unfamiliar.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, his voice rough but tender, his hand sliding down to your hip, holding you steady.

Your eyes flutter open, and you look at him with a kind of awe, like you can’t quite believe what’s happening. “I … I don’t know,” you whisper, your voice shaky. “I feel … different.”

Lewis smiles, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip again. “Good different?”

You nod, biting your lip again, and he can see the way your body is responding, even if you’re not fully aware of it yet. You’re relaxing into him, letting go of that initial hesitation, and he loves seeing it — the way you’re starting to trust him, to trust yourself.

“Let me keep going,” he whispers, his lips grazing your ear again, sending a shiver down your spine. “I want to make you feel good. Just … let me lead.”

You hesitate for a second, your breath catching in your throat, but then you nod. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s there.

Lewis doesn’t waste another second. His hand slides down your side, slow and deliberate, tracing the curve of your waist, your hip, while his other hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss. This one is deeper, hungrier, and he can feel you responding, your body leaning into his touch, your lips parting for him.

He’s in control. And you’re letting him be.

And as the night stretches on, Lewis knows one thing for sure — he’s going to show you everything you’ve been missing.

Lewis deepens the kiss, feeling the way you respond, how you melt into his touch. He moves with a slow, deliberate intensity, his hand exploring the curves of your body, memorizing every line and contour. There’s a purpose to his movements — he wants to show you what you’ve been missing, and he’s determined to do it right.

“Just relax,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod slightly, your breath hitching as his hand slips under your shirt, fingers brushing against your skin. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and Lewis feels it, the way your body reacts to his touch. He smiles, a dark, satisfied smile, knowing he’s already starting to break through the walls you’ve built up.

His lips leave yours, trailing a path down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly. He can feel your pulse quicken, the way your breath comes in shallow gasps, and it only fuels his desire. He wants to hear you, to feel you lose control, to know that he’s the one making you feel this way.

“Do you trust me?” He whispers, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word barely audible, but it’s enough for Lewis.

“Good,” he replies, his hand moving lower, tracing the waistband of your jeans. “Just let go. Let me show you what it’s like.”

You nod again, and Lewis feels a surge of satisfaction. He wants to take his time with you, to savor every moment, every reaction. His fingers deftly undo the button of your jeans, and he feels you tense slightly.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing purr. “Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You take a shaky breath, and he can feel you trying to relax, to trust him. He slides your jeans down, his hands trailing over your thighs, his touch light but firm. He wants you to feel every sensation, to be completely aware of what he’s doing.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, but there’s a softness there too, a tenderness that surprises even him. He wants this to be good for you, wants to show you how it should feel.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says softly, his hands moving back up, caressing your skin. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

You bite your lip, your eyes locked on his, and Lewis can see the mix of emotions there — nervousness, anticipation, desire. It’s intoxicating.

He leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss, his hand slipping between your thighs, finding the soft fabric of your underwear. He can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body is already responding to his touch.

“Just let me lead,” he whispers against your lips, his fingers teasing you through the fabric. “I promise you’re going to love this.”

You nod, and Lewis takes it as his cue. He slips his fingers under the waistband, finding the soft, wet heat of you. You gasp, your body arching into his touch, and he smiles against your skin.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. “Just feel.”

You’re breathing harder now, your hands gripping his shoulders, and Lewis can feel the way your body is trembling. He watches your face, the way your eyes flutter closed, your lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

“You’re so responsive,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I love how you’re reacting to me.”

He increases the pressure slightly, his fingers finding a rhythm that has you gasping, your body arching off the couch. He can feel you getting wetter, your arousal slick against his fingers, and it drives him wild.

“Do you like that?” He asks, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Yes,” you gasp, your voice breathless. “Oh God, yes.”

“Good,” he replies, his fingers moving faster now, the pace increasing. “Because I’m not stopping until you come for me.”

You moan, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, and Lewis can feel you getting closer, your muscles tensing, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. He wants to push you over the edge, to see you lose control completely.

“Let go,” he murmurs, his voice a rough command. “I want to feel you come.”

You’re close, he can feel it, and he moves his fingers faster, his thumb finding just the right spot. You cry out, your body arching off the couch, and Lewis can feel you clenching around his fingers as the orgasm crashes over you.

“That’s it,” he says, his voice a low growl. “Let it out.”

You’re trembling, gasping for breath, and Lewis doesn’t stop, his fingers still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. He wants you to feel it completely, to know what it’s like to lose yourself in the sensation.

As the waves of pleasure finally start to subside, he slows his movements, his touch gentle now, soothing. He watches you, the way your chest rises and falls, your eyes still closed, a look of bliss on your face.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping out, his hand moving to rest on your thigh. “Absolutely incredible.”

You open your eyes, looking at him with a mix of amazement and exhaustion. “I … I can’t believe that just happened,” you whisper.

Lewis smiles, a slow, satisfied smile. “Believe it. And trust me, it’s only the beginning.”

He leans in, kissing you deeply, his hand still resting on your thigh, grounding you. He can feel the way your body is still trembling slightly, the aftershocks of your orgasm making you shiver.

“How do you feel?” He asks softly, his lips brushing against yours.

“Amazing,” you reply, your voice shaky but filled with wonder. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

Lewis chuckles, a low, satisfied sound. “Oh, it can be even better. I promise you.”

You bite your lip, looking at him with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. “Really?”

“Really,” he says, his hand moving up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “I want to show you everything, make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”

You blush, the color rising in your cheeks, and Lewis feels a surge of affection for you. You’re still so shy, so unsure, but you’re trusting him, and that means everything to him.

“I want that,” you say softly, your eyes locked on his.

“Good,” he replies, his voice filled with determination. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He kisses you again, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that takes your breath away. His hand slips back down, finding the heat of you once more, and he can feel the way your body responds, the way you’re already getting aroused again.

“I want to taste you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “I want to make you come with my mouth.”

You gasp, your eyes wide with surprise and anticipation. “I … I’ve never …”

Lewis cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to gently push you back against the couch. “Trust me,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You’re going to love this.”

He moves down your body, his lips trailing over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake. He takes his time, savoring each moment, each reaction, until he’s settled between your thighs, his hands gently spreading you open.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

You’re trembling, your breath coming in short gasps, and Lewis can feel the anticipation radiating off you. He leans in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, and the sound you make — the soft, desperate moan — drives him wild.

He starts slow, teasing, his tongue moving in gentle, deliberate strokes, wanting to savor the taste of you, the way you respond to his touch. He can feel your body tensing, your hips arching towards him, and he holds you steady, his hands gripping your thighs.

“Just let go,” he murmurs against your skin, his tongue finding a rhythm that has you gasping, your fingers tangling in his braids. “Let me make you feel good.”

You’re moaning now, your body trembling as the pleasure builds, and Lewis can feel the way you’re getting closer, the way your muscles are tensing, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Oh God,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “Lewis, please …”

He smiles against your skin, increasing the pressure, his tongue moving faster, more insistent. He wants to push you over the edge again, to feel you lose control completely.

“Come for me,” he growls, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. “I want to taste you.”

You cry out, your body arching off the couch as the orgasm crashes over you, and Lewis doesn’t stop, his tongue still moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. He wants you to feel it completely, to know what it’s like to lose yourself in the sensation.

As the waves of pleasure finally start to subside, he slows his movements, his touch gentle now, soothing. Lewis pulls back slightly, watching you as you lay there, your chest still rising and falling from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

The look on your face — blissful, flushed, and so vulnerable — makes something twist deep in his chest. You’ve just experienced something new, something he’s given you, and the knowledge of that fills him with an intense satisfaction.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his smile slow and full of heat. “You taste incredible,” he murmurs again, voice rough, letting the words hang between you. “I’ve never tasted anything better.”

You’re still catching your breath, but your eyes find his, and there’s a spark of something there — nervous, but … curious.

Lewis can see the way you hesitate, the way you’re trying to form words but don’t quite know how. He leans in, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. “What is it, love?” He asks, his voice soft, coaxing. He’s patient, not wanting to rush you.

You bite your lip, your cheeks flushed with both the intensity of what’s just happened and the thought clearly forming in your mind. “I … I want to …” You hesitate, glancing away briefly, embarrassed. “I want to do the same to you.”

Lewis raises an eyebrow, intrigued, but he doesn’t say anything. He waits, watching the way your gaze drops to his chest, avoiding eye contact.

“I just don’t know … how,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

His heart stirs at your shyness, the vulnerability of your admission. There’s something so genuine about you, so unaffected. He can see the innocence still lingering in your eyes, even after everything that’s just happened. It makes him want to be gentle, to guide you, to show you that there’s no pressure here — just a shared experience between the two of you.

Lewis shifts his weight, sitting up and leaning back against the cushions. He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing across your skin. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

You shake your head quickly, your hand reaching out to touch his chest, your fingers splayed against his skin. “I want to,” you say, the words coming out more firmly now, but still tinged with uncertainty. “I just … I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lewis chuckles, the sound low and warm, easing the tension in the room. “You won’t mess it up,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Trust me, you can’t mess this up.”

You glance up at him, your eyes searching his face, and he can see the resolve settling in. Slowly, you shift, moving closer to him, your hands tentatively sliding down his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle. Lewis watches you carefully, his breath slowing as your touch grows more confident.

Your fingers dip lower, brushing the waistband of his sweatpants, and you pause, glancing up at him again. “What do I … do first?” You ask, your voice small but filled with curiosity.

Lewis reaches down, his hand gently covering yours, guiding it to the drawstring of his pants. “You start by taking these off,” he says, his voice deep, steady. “Just go slow.”

You swallow hard, but you nod, your fingers trembling slightly as you untie the knot and slowly pull his pants down. Lewis helps you, lifting his hips slightly to ease them off, and soon, they’re discarded on the floor. He’s left in just his boxers, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

You bite your lip again, your eyes widening slightly as you take in the sight of him. “I don’t … I don’t know if I’ll be good at this,” you admit, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

Lewis reaches out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch soft, reassuring. “You don’t have to be perfect,” he says gently. “Just listen to me, and I’ll tell you what feels good. Okay?”

You nod, your nerves still there, but there’s a determination in your gaze now, a desire to learn, to please him the way he pleased you. Slowly, you reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down carefully, and Lewis lets out a low breath as he’s freed from the confines of the fabric.

For a moment, you just stare, your hand hovering uncertainly above him. “It’s … bigger than I thought,” you murmur, and Lewis can’t help but grin at your honesty.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice laced with amusement. “You’ll get used to it.”

You look up at him, biting your lip nervously, and Lewis reaches down, taking your hand in his. He guides it to him, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers wrap around him, tentative but curious.

“Like this?” You ask, your voice small, unsure.

Lewis closes his eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of your hand around him, the softness of your touch. “Yeah,” he breathes, his voice rougher now. “Just like that.”

You start slow, your hand moving tentatively at first, feeling your way through the unfamiliar motions. Lewis watches you, his breath deepening as you grow more confident, your movements becoming more fluid. He can see the concentration on your face, the way you’re so focused on getting it right, and it only makes him want you more.

“Am I doing it okay?” You ask, glancing up at him, your eyes wide, seeking approval.

Lewis groans softly, his hand moving to rest on the back of your neck. “You’re doing perfect,” he says, his voice thick with desire. “Just keep going.”

You bite your lip again, nodding slightly as your hand moves faster, finding a rhythm. Lewis’ breath hitches, his body tensing slightly as the pleasure starts to build. He’s trying to stay in control, to guide you, but you’re learning quickly, and the way your touch feels — tentative yet eager — is driving him wild.

“You’re so good at this,” he murmurs, his hand tightening slightly on the back of your neck, encouraging you. “Just like that.”

Your cheeks flush at his praise, and you seem to grow even more confident, your movements more sure. Lewis can feel his control slipping, the pleasure coiling tight in his gut, but he doesn’t want to rush this. He wants you to feel how much he’s enjoying it, how good you’re making him feel.

“Do you want to use your mouth?” He asks, his voice low, rough with desire. “I can show you how.”

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes widening slightly at the suggestion, but then you nod. “Yes,” you whisper. “Show me.”

Lewis shifts, adjusting himself so that you have better access, and he cups your cheek gently, guiding you closer. “Just start slow,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your lips. “Don’t worry about being perfect. Just take your time.”

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you lean in, your lips brushing against him tentatively at first. Lewis groans softly, his hand tightening on the back of your neck, but he’s careful not to push you too hard. He wants you to move at your own pace, to find your own rhythm.

You open your mouth, taking him in slowly, and Lewis’ breath hitches, his body tensing as the warmth of your mouth surrounds him. “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so good.”

You look up at him, your eyes wide, and he can see the uncertainty there, but also the desire to please him. He groans, his hand guiding you gently, showing you how to move, how to take him deeper, how to use your tongue.

“Just like that,” he breathes, his voice thick with pleasure. “You’re doing so good, love.”

You follow his lead, your movements slow and tentative at first, but you’re learning quickly, finding a rhythm that has Lewis’ breath coming in shallow gasps. He can feel his control slipping, the pleasure coiling tighter with each passing moment.

He’s never felt anything like this — the combination of your innocence, your eagerness to learn, and the way you look up at him, eyes wide and full of curiosity — it’s intoxicating.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand tightening on the back of your neck as you take him deeper, your mouth moving in perfect rhythm with his guidance. “You’re gonna make me come if you continue doing that.”

You pause for a moment, looking up at him with wide eyes, and Lewis chuckles softly, his hand brushing through your hair. “Keep going,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I want you to finish me off.”

You nod slightly, your lips sliding back down over him, and Lewis can’t hold back the groan that escapes his lips. The pleasure is building fast, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer, not with the way you’re moving, the way you’re looking at him like you’re determined to please him.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his hand tightening in your hair as the pleasure coils tight in his gut. “Fuck, you’re so good at this.”

You take him deeper, your mouth working in perfect rhythm, and Lewis can feel the tension building, the pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. He groans loudly, his body tensing as he reaches the edge.

“God, I’m gonna come,” he gasps, his hand tightening in your hair. “You should stop if you don’t want to swallow-”

But you don’t stop. Instead, you push even further, taking him deeper into your mouth, your movements growing more confident, more determined. Your tongue swirls around him, your hand stroking in time with your lips, and Lewis feels his control shatter.

He’s never felt anything like this — your eagerness, your willingness to please him, the way you’re pushing yourself to learn and to give him everything he needs. It’s overwhelming, and it sends him spiraling over the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back, his eyes closing as the pleasure crashes over him in waves. His body tenses, his muscles locking up as he comes, the intensity of it almost too much to handle.

You don’t pull away. You keep going, your mouth and hand working together to draw out every last bit of his orgasm, your movements steady and sure. He can feel the way you’re trying to take everything, the way you’re pushing yourself, and it drives him wild.

He’s gasping for breath, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release, and he forces himself to open his eyes, to look down at you. You’re still there, your eyes locked on his, a mixture of determination and curiosity in your gaze.

“God, you’re amazing,” he breathes, his voice rough and unsteady. He gently pulls you away, his hands cupping your cheeks, guiding you up to his level. “You didn’t have to do all that, you know.”

You bite your lip, a shy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I wanted to,” you say softly. “I wanted to make you feel good.”

Lewis’s heart swells at your words, the sincerity in your voice. He leans in, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your lips, and it only makes him want you more. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close.

“You did,” he murmurs against your lips. “You made me feel incredible. You’re incredible.”

You blush, the color rising in your cheeks, and Lewis can’t help but smile. There’s something so genuine about you, so unaffected by everything that’s happened. It makes him want to protect you, to show you that you’re safe with him, that you can trust him.

He pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, his expression softening. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “For trusting me. For letting me be the one to show you this.”

You smile shyly, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Thank you for being so patient,” you reply. “For making me feel … good.”

Lewis chuckles softly, his hand brushing through your hair. “I’d say we both came out of this feeling pretty good,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye.

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and it’s like music to his ears. He kisses you again, slow and tender, savoring the moment. There’s a warmth between you now, a connection that wasn’t there before, and it feels like the start of something new, something real.

As the night wears on, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, talking and laughing, the intimacy of the moment lingering between you. In the back of his mind, Lewis knows that this is just the beginning, that there’s so much more to explore, so much more to learn about each other. And he can’t wait to do so.

[antoncyng]

౨ৎ. STORYTIME - k.sn

synopsis - you listen in when your boyfriend offers to put your daughter to sleep

genre / warning(s) - fluff, ! sunoo is not the dad !, daughter name is jieun and she’s 4 ><, ex-idol!sunoo x fem!reader, sunoo and reader have been dating for 2 and a half years

wc - 792

you sat on the couch with your boyfriend after finally putting your daughter to sleep, taking what felt like hours with how much energy she had at 11:34 pm. he just smiled at you proudly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin softly.

until your love was disturbed by tiny footsteps and a toddlers voice, you sighed knowing what would happen. small sniffles came from behind the couch, turning your head to make contact with your daughter who was standing there in her pajamas, stuffed bunny in one small hand while the other rubbed the tears in her eyes.

“i don’t like the dark.” your daughter said to you after sniffling a few more times and catching her breath. “baby, your nightlight was on. what do you mean the dark?” you responded to her, confused as you clearly remember turning it on before leaving the room.

“too dark.” all you could do was sigh and stand up, but you felt a hand grab yours. “it’s okay, you stay here. i’ll put her to bed.” sunoo said to you with a sweet smile before standing up and turning to your daughter. “how about i put you to bed tonight? how does that sound? i can read you a small story too”

you could tell your daughter really loved sunoo, especially from the bright smile that appeared on her face when your boyfriend’s offer was spoken. taking his hand in her smaller one, they waddled off to her bedroom together.

you soon followed along and put your ear to the door, while watching the small creek that was left open, you couldn’t help but get curious on how your boyfriend would put jieun to sleep.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ IN JIEUN’S ROOM

“what story do you want to read tonight bug?” sunoo asked her sweetly, helping her sit on the bed comfortable, while he sat at the end.

“can you make a story for me? i’ve read all of mine already?” she says back, pointing to the bookshelf of short books that have already been read to her multiple times.

sunoo just nods and smiles, before moving off her bed and drawing a quick picture, than coming back and sitting on her bed again. “are you ready? you have to really focus on this story, okay?” he starts, your daughter just nodding with a waited smile on her lips.

“well, once upon a time in a beautiful bunny forest, lived a pink baby bunny named.. what should we name her?” he asked jieun, trying to make the story more interactive for her.

“rachel!” she said excitingly. “okay, lets call her rachel then. one day rachel wanted to go to the playground with her friends, but her mommy made her make a promise. can you guess what that is?” sunoo read from the picture to her, getting a head shake of denial in response.

“her mommy asked her to promise to go straight to sleep when she comes home, just like your mommy tells you.” he says, tickling her stomach slightly when she gets brought up in the story, earning a giggle from your daughter. “but why does she have to sleep right away?”

“well, when you go to sleep, it gives you energy for the next day! with no sleep or even a little bit of sleep, you’ll be too tired to play the next day. do you want to miss out on a day of playing because you didn’t sleep before? you’ll be very sad, you know.” sunoo cocks an eyebrow at jieun, leaving her mouth agape and she nods her head.

“can i sleep now then? i don’t want to miss playtime tomorrow!” she says, worriedly while she pulls her blanket higher and clutches her stuffed animal in her arm, while sunoo grows a smile on his face and just nods.

“that sounds like a good idea, lets get you tucked in.” he stands up, helping jieun get comfortable in her bed before kissing her forehead, turning off the main loght and turning on her nightlight. “are you going to be here when i wake up?” jieun looks up at sunoo with puppy eyes.

“yes, i’ll be in the room with mommy. call me if you need me okay? goodnight bun, sweet dreams.” he says while brushing her hair to the side before leaving her room quietly, making eye contact with you after closing her door.

“is she sleeping?” he nods in response, wrapping his arms around your neck in a bear hug.

“lets get our own rest now, unless you need a storytime too?” sunoo chuckles with a teasing manner before walking to your bedroom together, you knew you were so in love.

[midnightorchids]

Hey babe- I wanted to know how you felt about booknerd!reader x Jason. Because it's been rotting my brain forever now and I need to know what someone as genius as yourself thinks about it. So like- We know Jason is a book girl. He's got huge floor to ceiling shelves in his apartment filled with non-fiction, historical fiction, classics, and maybe a few Si-Fi titles. I feel like he would love Toni Morison, Maya Angelou, Henrik Isben, Margret Atwood, and maybe even Harukai Murakami. He has this beautiful collection of leather bond additions of the Iliad Bruce gave him when he was 16. And when he finally invites you over, he cannot contain his excited smile as you start gushing over his home library. He makes you guys coffee and you spend hours talking about your fav genres, authors, online author drama - and after he's walking back to his apartment after dropping you off, he's smiling down at his phone at the message you sent. 'I had so much fun today! Ur library is so so so cool, was wondering if you would be ok going with me to Chapters next week? Wanted to pick up the new Skyward book' He's kicking his feet and hiding his face in his pillow. So deeply overjoyed that his crush shares in his immense love of literature. After you guys officially get together, he buys you so many fucking books. He fallows your goodreads wishlist religiously and surprises you almost every month with a new addition to your growing collection. He usually collects used paper backs, but for you, he splurges on the hardcover special additions. Of course it's because he loves you but it's also so that, maybe, you'll be more incentivised to move into a different apartment. One with floor-to-ceiling book shelves and a shared bed... just saying.. He branches out into more genres and authors he wouldn't usually read from just so he could talk about your favourite books with you. You do the same - your book collections getting mixed together in the process. Library dates, bookstore dates, used-bookstore dates. Your first couple of dates and realisations of love happened in and around books. You would always leave little messages inside the first page of the books you give him. So that if your every away or he's on a mission and he takes a book with him, he'll have one of your small messages of love as a reminder of something to return home to.

Hi hon!! I’m so sorry for the late response, I’ve been dying with uni and just life in general recently, but I’m back and ready to write again!! But I agree with pretty much everything that you said, like you’ve written it out so well and it’s just so cute! I was literally giggling and kicking my feet at the last one omg. I shall try to add more stuff!!

Jason’s go to present for his loved ones is annotated copies of his favourite books. He only does this when he feels comfortable with a person because sharing his thoughts feels raw and vulnerable sometimes.

Having a significant other who loves to read and appreciates these types of gifts would make him feel happy and very emotional. It’s not often he gets to share this side of himself with people.

When he gifts his copies to his friends or his partner, he feels like he’s leaving a piece of him with the person, so he only does this when he trusts you.

He leaves detailed little messages on the margins of his books. He draws little smiley faces on the cute parts and angry faces on the parts that made him upset.

In the books for his significant other, Jason leaves little notes around the quotes that remind him of you. He highlights them in a different colour and makes sure his notes look extra tidy.

He sucks at wrapping things, so sometimes you’ll get a very poorly wrapped, tape covered novel. You’ll look at the wrapping and laugh, you’d pinch his cheeks teasingly and tell him he did a good job. He’d turn his face away in embarrassment, which leads to you placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Then, there would be times where he doesn’t have the energy to deal with the horrible wrapping paper. So, you’ll be gifted a plain paper back with a sticky note on the front cover that reads ‘for you,’ in squiggly lines.

It’s honestly sweet and he gets very shy about it.

Also, Jason’s taste in books is very diverse, he reads anything from the classics to romance to gothic horror. He reads anything and everything and because of that, I think that it would be very easy for you to share your thoughts and recommendations with him.

Even if Jason hasn’t read the book, he listens intently with a huge smile on his face. He loves listening to you talk. If he doesn’t know the author or the book, he will try to familiarize himself with what you’re reading and branch into different genres.

There would be lots of reading and bookstore dates. You’d browse through the different aisles with his hand in yours, only letting go when a particular book catches your attention. He watches you in awe as you gush about the different series.

(Side note, my friends and I always go to bookstores and just point out the worst books we’ve read and I think Jason would do that too.)

As you search through the shelves to find your next read, he’ll come to you all excited, rambling about the book in his hand. From the looks of it, it seems like he loves the book. His hands are moving around, he’s smiling and giggling, but if you pay attention, he’s actually just cussing out the author.

This becomes a tradition in your relationship. You both bring up books that you hate instead of the ones that you really enjoy. You’d spend the next hour of your bookstore visit just giggling at the random passages that the author thought were good enough to share with the world.

I think this would also lead to a book club of reading awful books sometimes just for shits and giggles. There would be weeks where you would read amazing, well written stories together, but then there would be times when you guys would pick up something bad just to make fun of it.

Overall, Jason would love having a book nerd significant other because he finally has someone who he can geek out with.

[quibbs126]

So I’ve been making this

So basically last night, I was listening to some music, specifically Not Gonna Die by Skillet, more specifically a version on YouTube with the intro (because I’m not the biggest fan of Good to be Alive where the intro actually is). Anyways, when it’s night, my imagination tends to be more active and I tend to have more energy. While listening to the song, I eventually got this mental image in my mind of this scene with Dark Choco, and the more it crystallized the more I wanted to draw it. I was going to go to sleep and maybe do it in the morning, but I realized that I probably would forget the vibe and not have as much energy, so instead I decided to power through and draw the idea

It was a bit difficult since I had limited references for the pose I wanted, and I suppose I can admit the sword looks a bit off anatomically, but it looks good enough I think, and lets me keep the eyes revealed

I did eventually have to stop drawing, because my iPad had been worked all the way down to 4% (and it was at 30% when I started, the poor thing), not to mention it was around 11:30 already which is pretty late for me, and my earbuds had been running nonstop for over 2 hours (yes I was listening to the same song, it’s how I keep the vibe). I was at least able to get the pose, base colors and lineart done, and I’m still pretty proud of where I left things last night

Today was mostly just doing the background and lighting, which admittedly I may have fumbled. I’m not very good at backgrounds and I didn’t know how to draw lightning. I tried my best, but honestly I don’t think I got the image in my head. Didn’t help that my brain was playing the wrong Skillet song this morning

Oh yeah and by the way, the background is supposed to be from this. That’s what I used as reference

The lightning both feels like too much and too little. Like, it’s crowding the picture, and I can’t have more because it’d be way too crowded with it, but also at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough, like there isn’t as much power as I wanted

Actually wait, maybe I can add some small particle effects to like, enhance the lightning feel. That was in the original sketch but I omitted it in the final. If you see one with that, you know I did that

Edit: I did indeed do that

To be fair though, I don’t think I have the art skill to properly convey the image in my head. Basically the scene is that Dark Choco is using absolutely every amount of his power for this final swing down, so much that it’s too powerful and the Strawberry Jam Sword completely shatters. But also it’s too powerful that Dark Choco’s body simply can’t handle it, and he basically ends up exploding. The scene depicted would be the wind up to that final swing that destroys the both of them

This isn’t necessarily the first time I’ve come up with this scenario, and the setup would basically be that he turned on the Cookies of Darkness slightly earlier, because he didn’t want to destroy his homeland again, and he tried to get rid of them while in the kingdom but not yet at the Citadel, but he ended up failing, so with nothing to lose, he chases after them and decides to put everything into destroying them, even if it likely ends in his death. After this he probably killed Pomegranate and crippled Licorice in some way (I don’t think he’d attack Poison Mushroom), so his final act did have some effect, but he’s still dead by the end of it. And he and his father never got the chance to properly reconcile because Dark Choco thought that could never be a possibility anymore and he had resigned himself to his fate

But yeah, I just don’t know how to convey that sheer overwhelming power and emotion that this scenario suggests. I tried my best though

I also want to submit this to the Dark Cacao Forever contest, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough for it. What do you think?

[kissagii]

it's finals season, and nishinoya desperately needs a savior

cw: gender neutral reader, 2k words, reader is a bit of a nerd and noya is smitten, both are a little dense, i didn't proofread this nearly enough.

Nishinoya Yuu cannot fail high school. At least, not if he wants to go to the Tokyo training camp and meet the funny guys from Nekoma again. As it stands, the only obstacles between Noya and going to camp are the steadily approaching final exams - exams that he hasn’t spent nearly enough time studying for.

That’s how he found himself here: not-so-casually asking (read: begging) for help studying.

“But I can’t fail these exams!” He half-yells, smacking his hands dramatically onto your desk, “I’m too cool to fail! And I want to go to camp!”

You sigh, not thrilled to have the libero drawing so much attention to you, especially in the middle of the school day. But his pleas are pitiful - and bound to get annoying if left unanswered for too long - so your only real option is to offer whatever assistance he needs.

“Sure, I’ve got time, what do you need?” You offer, hoping desperately that you sound relatively nonchalant. You had grown fond of him as first-year classmates, and now being in separate classes made any opportunity to spend time with him one worth taking. Even if it ended in studying with Nishinoya Yuu, a man not exactly known for being studious. Loudness aside, he's a good guy: caring (at times overbearingly so), observant (but never when he needs to be), and unendingly passionate about his interests (and very little else). And undeniably attractive, though you’d never tell him that. It would go straight to his head.

His face lights up as soon as the offer is made. “You’re amazing! An angel sent from the heavens to help me go to camp!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, now what subjects are giving you the most trouble?” You say, heart fluttering at the subtle words of appreciation. 

“Math. And physics, but that’s basically just math but more evil. Oh, and English. And history. And writing.” His expression shifts from joy to a pout with each subject, brows knitting together as he realizes just how inept (and uncool, he’s probably thinking) he is.

“Noya, you just listed every subject, that’s way too much,” You laugh, “But I’ll see what I can do. Give me a day to prepare?”

“Just try not to miss me too much!” Noya says as he jumps excitedly, waving to you as he walks backward out of the room. He waves the entire way until he walks back-first into the doorframe, letting out a squawk of surprise and continuing proudly like nothing ever happened.

This boy is going to be the death of you.

Exactly 24 hours after his first visit, Noya bounds into your classroom and over to your desk again. Despite expecting his visit this time, you’re caught off guard by his punctuality and higher-than-usual energy. 

“It is I, Nishinoya Yuu, Guardian Deity of Karasuno!” He announces, dropping into a neighboring desk.

“Yeah, I know that, Noya.”

“Hmph, but it’s more fun to do that,” He huffs, poking at the papers you have lined up on your desk, “What’s all this? For me?”

You stack up all the papers, creating a thick packet, and hand them to him. He loses interest the moment he realizes that the ridiculous-looking stack is indeed for him, mortified by the concept of having to do all of that. He pays minimal attention as you explain everything he’s supposed to do - something about the order of the subjects versus the tests, the problem difficulties, and suggested pacing - instead choosing to focus on something far more interesting. 

The way certain subjects make your eyes light up more than others. The way you tilt your body to face him as you talk. The way your lips move with each word. How much he wishes he could grab your face and kiss you.

And, ultimately, that which brings his attention back - the reward system. Your method of motivating him to put effort into his practice.

“The rewards are indicated with symbols, the key is at the back, and you don’t have to take any reward you don’t want. I’ll be here to check your work and help you with the harder ones, does that sound good? Oh, and no getting answers from your teammates. You’ll only get prizes for your own work.” 

“All this? really? These rewards better be good,” He sticks out his bottom lip, thumbing the papers, itching to flip straight to the back and see what he might have a chance at acquiring. 

You laugh, shooing him out of the chair he sits in, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you’ll like one or two of them. Now go get working, deal with your prizes when you have an actual chance at earning them.”

“Hey! At least let me try to get motivated!” He whines, making a point to struggle to carry the twenty-or-so pages in his hands, “I might never forgive you for this!”

Though he acts offended, the moment he’s out of your sight his posture straightens and he hurries to his classroom. Only there does he set down the papers and fumble to the back, finding the Prize Key at the very end.

♤ - 1 sticker (assorted themes)

Who do you think he is? A first grader? Though he has to admit, the concept is cute.

♧ - Snack coupon

Now this, this is good - he could use them to barter with the team… if he could convince himself to not hoard them.

♢ - 10 minutes letting you show off at practice

Finally, you’ll come through on your promise of visiting him at practice!!

☆ - Bento Box

So you had been paying attention to how he always ogled your food during lunch hour. Oh, Tanaka is gonna be so jealous.

♡ - Kiss

He rereads the single word again. And again. He blows away nonexistent eraser shards; wipes the paper with his sleeve; traces his finger over the word. And still, there it is, inked directly onto the paper, completely intentional. Kiss.

Frantically he flipped through the packet, searching for the problem sets marked with a heart. Just what would he have to do to earn the sweetness of your lips against his? He’d do just about anything, really, he’d craved your affection since midway through first year.

Nishinoya Yuu would do anything to kiss you just once - even a physics problem so brutal even the most genius of his classmates might shy away from it.

“Ok, fess up, which one of you gave Noya answers to his study work?!” You shout, storming into Karasuno’s volleyball gym as the team begins their practice. The underclassmen’s confused stares hardly dent your frustration with the team and whichever of them was insolent enough to go directly against your request.

Ennoshita winces, smiling bashfully. “Well… I didn’t help him, exactly. He just told me to check his work and it was right, I didn’t give away any answers.”

Noya smiles proudly from across the gymnasium, “See! I’m perfectly capable of doing physics on my own!”

“Suga? Daichi? Is this true?” You ask, turning to the reliable third-years on the team, who you’re sure were there to witness Noya’s breakthrough.

“Mhm,” Suga nods, “And he went skipping to first period like a little girl.”

“I do not skip!” Noya insists.

The first years giggle amongst themselves, clearly amused by the dispute. Though, in their shoes, you probably would’ve laughed too.

“No, you were skipping,” Daichi adds bluntly. Noya’s jaw drops, insulted.

“I do not- Oh, fine, whatever, maybe I skipped a little. But see, I didn’t get answers from anyone, I solved the problem by myself! So therefore I deserve my reward!”

So maybe he did solve the problem on his own. So maybe he did spend all night working on that one near-impossible problem just to get the reward. So maybe he does want to kiss you.

“Alright, alright, I accept it, you solved the problem yourself. Good job. Call me when you’re done with practice, you’ll get your reward then.” You say resignedly, turning to leave the club room.

“No, don’t make me wait so long! I gave you the problem at lunch, you’re so mean to me!” Noya calls after you.

As you leave, a redheaded first-year (Hintata, if you correctly remembered Noya's ramblings about his teammates) whispers to you: “I think he’s in love with you.”

Thank the heavens that your back was turned, because your flustered expression would’ve made your crush on the libero painfully obvious to all in the room. 

But oh how you hoped that first year was right.

Only minutes after the end of practice, Noya found you behind the gymnasium. Still sweaty and haphazardly changed, he jogged to you excitedly. 

“I’m here now! Now don’t tell me I sat on the sidelines through morning practice for nothing, Daichi was ready to kill me,” He said, breathing slightly heavier than usual but still energetic.

“Have you just been pretending to be stupid this whole time?” You ask, “I spent days making that problem for a different study group, days, doing everything I could to make it impossible. I gave it to you as a joke, more than anything, I didn’t think you’d actually solve it.” 

Noya inhales sharply, looking down to the ground. “So, the part about… the kiss… was that a joke too?” He begins stepping back, feeling a fool for getting his hopes up so high. Frustrated and confused, he begins running his mouth like he always does, muttering about being a fool, being hopeless, the evilness of your schemes, and having wasted his energy and time in search of something he would never get.

“Noya, shut up,” You say, but he pays you no mind. “Yuu!” 

The one lesson he needs to learn is how to quiet down, and you know he won’t learn it on his own. You grab him by the cheeks and pull his lips to yours, cutting him off mid-sentence, kissing him right there behind the gymnasium as night descends upon the city. When you part he remains speechless, cocoa-brown eyes darting between your eyes and lips.

“It was a joke because I didn’t think you’d want it,” You murmur, letting a hand slide into his sweaty but somehow still soft hair. “If I had known this was what you wanted I would’ve let you kiss me as many times as you wanted.” 

Noya leans into your hand, as if making sure that you’re actually there, actually touching him. Gently you bring your foreheads to touch, a silent reminder that you are indeed real. “You're more than just a friend to me, Yuu, and in every moment that you’re silent I’ll remind you.”

“Ehehe, guess I’ll just never speak again,” He laughs cheekily, stealing another kiss, quick and playful. 

You pull back, but don’t move your hand away. What an idiot, snapping from speechless to silly in such a quick moment, and absolutely desperate for affection to boot. And yet this dramatic idiot had you absolutely smitten and wanting to kiss him over and over until evening turned to night turned to morning.

“You didn’t earn that one, Yuu! I guess I’ll have to cut your showoff time rewards by half,” You tease, poking the tip of his nose with your finger. It’s a ridiculous facade on your part - he’d never have to earn a kiss from you, just ask and you’d gladly give it to him. But the way his face twisted yet again, horrified by your mock threat, was too cute to pass up.

“Half?!” He scoffs, “I guess I’ll have to be extra flashy for my sunshine!” 

“Sunshine? Since when am I your sunshine?”

“I dunno, since now? Come on, it’s cute!”

Sunshine it is, then. Though if either of the two of you is the sunshine, you’re sure it must be him, because his giddy grin is easily the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life.

:)

[bipanicoverthegravessiblings]

can you make a little fanfic about andrew being a fucking yandere? or hc's? i beg youu

Well since you begged <3

TW: Kidnapping, Starvation, Forced kiss, also- Yandere shit so be weary y’all

Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader

Truly, you don’t know how things got like this

Your stomach churned with hunger, so much you feared it would start eating itself if you didn’t eat anything soon

Though you didn’t trust what he would bring you

The cold chains digging into the skin of your wrists was a good reminder of what trusting him brought you

If you had the energy, you would chew through the piece of cloth he gagged you with. Spit it out and scream for help

But- that wouldn’t end well for you

He made that clear last time…

“Relax beloved…” his voice was so calm as he circled you, the only indication of his anger being how white his knuckles were from clenching his cleaver, “I’m not gonna kill you..”

You wished he would. You wished he would slit your throat with that fucking thing and finally release you from this torture you’d endure for a week now. But no…you were his beloved. He would never harm his beloved, not unless they deserved it.

Harm, but never kill. Fucking psychopath.

Your attempt had been utterly futile, having managed to wiggle the Christmas lights tying you to the pole- leaving you to slink away like a slug in an attempt to get away. Andrew had come down to investigate the noise, where he found your pathetic slug ass on the floor, crying with fear.

He knelt down beside you, taking your chin in his hand.

“Awww…sweetie…” his voice was sickeningly sweet, like he was trying to provide you with comfort. If you weren’t gagged, you would’ve bit him. He helped you sit up, you flinched under his touch, “Why do you resist me? I’m helping you..”

He wiped your tears with his sweater sleeve, though your eyes were fixated on his cleaver- prepared to duck if he used it. Andrew wouldn’t use it if you didn’t give him a reason to, he’s exclaimed multiple times your first few days here.

He cupped your cheek in his right hand, you tilted your head into it instinctively. He had done this so many times before…

Before he showed you what he was like..

Andrew leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips felt cold, sharp- taking away any tenderness he could provide to you.

“I’ll let you off either a warning this time…but if you try this again…” he roughly grabbed his chin, pulling your face close to his. He glared at you, his green eyes filling you with nothing but fear as his true intentions were clear behind them, “I won’t be so nice..”

You nodded the best you could with how he was holding you. He was satisfied with that, his expression changing on a dime to that of adoration.

“That’s it.” Andrew kissed your forehead again, releasing your chin, “Come on…let’s get you back to your spot, I’ve picked up something that’s a bit….heftier to prevent something like this from happening again.”

You lost track of how long you’d been here now

Realistically, it was probably a couple of weeks

But it felt more like years

You perked up, hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs- and then the faint sound of a lock clicking

Fear coursed through you. The pole you were tied to was just far back enough that the railing blocked the top of the staircase- but you knew the footsteps anywhere

In your time living in the basement of the Graves house, you’d memorize the two sets of footsteps that visited you: Andrew, and his little sister, Ashley.

More often than not, Andrew would visit you- Ashley only did once a day to feed you- so it was a safe bet to assume it was him before you memorized Ashley’s somehow heavier steps.

Andrew’s were light, like he’d have practice not drawing attention to himself while walking

He maneuvered down the stairs slowly, his frame slowly coming into your view. He carried two plates in his hands, each with a fork set upon the conglomerate of spaghetti noodles piled on top of it.

His eyes met yours, and he gave you a smile. A warm smile.

You hated that smile

“Evening beloved.” He greeted you, striding over to your bounded self. He set a plate down in front of you, “Dinner time! Tonight’s meal is pasta, I thought I’d eat with you.”

He seated himself across from you, leaning forward- his hands going behind your head. Fear flashed through your eyes, but his poisoned touch left as he removed your gag.

You could scream. You wanted to scream. So, so badly. But he was right there. Scrawny as he was, he had the energy and upper hand against you to silence you…permanently.

So you clamped your mouth shut, which made Andrew frowned.

“Aww, come on sweetie..” he twirled some of your pasta on to the fork, “You need to eat.”

His face went dark as his sickly green eyes stared holes through your wide, teary eyes.

“I know you haven’t been eating what Ashley brings you.”

Your muscles tensed, and you did the foolish thing of opening your mouth a little with surprise for him noticing. He took that moment to thrust the fork into your mouth. You gagged on it, the prongs poking the back of your throat. You didn’t want to eat this, but Andrew retracted the fork and took your jaw in his hand. He manually made you chew, the noodles felt heavy in your mouth. Before you knew it, the cursed nutrients flowed down your throat and into your empty stomach. Andrew gave you a satisfied smile.

“There we go..” he released your jaw, picking up the fork again, “Come on, I want this plate cleaned.”

Each time he forced the food into your mouth, you wanted to vomit. You didn’t trust any of this. You have no idea what he laced this with, but the paranoia was already making your stomach ache. The plate was soon cleaned, and the feeding stopped.

Thank god, you would’ve said if you were coughing on pasta. You inhaled sharply, suddenly you were silence again- although not by the usual cloth you’d grown used to.

Andrew’s lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face to stop your squirming to try and get away. You screamed into his mouth, demanding to be released. Your teeth met his, saliva shared between you as he opened his own- then..

“OW!”

Andrew hissed, moving away and bringing a hand to his mouth. You had bitten his tongue…hard.

What were you thinking?

Cold terror filled your body as you struggled against the chains- and suddenly your mouth felt the familiar taste of the cloth gag. Andrew tied it tight around you, his eyes flashing with fury.

“Well…someone’s in a mood..” he grumbled, standing up and taking his plate with him. He glared down at you, “Look at all I’ve done for you? I’m protecting you!”

He clenched his plate- you could tell he wanted to throw it at you.

“You know how many people out there want to hurt you? Want to mistreat you?” His words felt like daggers, “You may not understand it…but I love you. And I’m doing this because I love you..”

Andrew turned on his heel, heading over to the stairs. He placed his free hand on the railing, glaring back at you.

“Happy 1 month beloved…” was all he left you with as he stormed up the stairs- the singular lightbulb in the basement being turned off, covering you in darkness.

You didn’t sleep that night

You sobbed into your gag until it felt gross in your mouth

A month ago, you had met a sweet boy in the library

He was browsing the poetry section, rambling to you about the underrated works of Edgar Allen Poe

He was so sweet

He was so caring

….maybe in a twisted way he still was.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine talking to Makino about Shanks...

You woke up to a soft kiss against your shoulder. Feeling the bedsheets shift a little, you heard quiet footsteps pad across the room until they eventually disappeared. Stretching, your limbs ached reminding you of pleasant moments from the night before. You hummed at the comfort and slowly fell back into a deep slumber.

When you finally felt the sun the backs of your eyelids, it was clear that it was time to get up. With a small huff, you gathered your energy and began to start the day.

Once you had freshened up, you peered into the room adjacent and found that it was missing one troublesome curly-haired boy. With a small hum, you ventured out to village to the only bar that he frequented.

“If you’re looking for Luffy, he’s under the piers again.” Makino offered when she saw you enter with eyes darting around the empty chairs.

Her comment eased your mind. At least he was safe in his space. Taking a seat opposite the working woman, you sighed a little.

“What day is it?” A yawn escaped your lips and Makino passed you the only drink that helped lift your spirits mornings like this. Her special blend of ice and select fruits was incredible.

“It’s the end of the week thankfully. Come to think of it, it’s the second last week of the month.”

Choking on the liquid, you leaned forward and hammered your chest to clear your airways. You had thought yesterday was just a rogue visit.

Crap. Quickly setting the drink onto the table, you turned to face the harbour and saw the familiar flag of the Red-Haired Pirates draw near which meant that-

“Shanks is back!” Luffy declared as he ran into the bar and stood in front of you. His eyes were bright with excitement and his smile carefree. Knees bounced as he could barely contain himself.

“Shanks is back!” He cried once more before dashing out of Makino’s bar with great speed towards the port.

“Hey!” You called out and leapt from your seat to the edge of the Makino’s bar.

“Luffy, don’t run so fast!” The warning fell on deaf ears. Resigning, you leaned on the wooden pillar.

“That kid’s going to be the death of me.”

“I would have thought that you would be just as excited?” Makino wondered as she restocked the shelves. “That ship means their Captain is here as well.”

You smiled a little at the mention of Shanks and took a seat at the bar. “I - um, I actually saw him last night.”

Makino hummed a little and sent you a knowing smirk. The captain of the Red-haired pirates had been smitten with you ever since he landed months ago and she had caught him sneaking out of your home on many occasions.

Raising an elbow to the table, you leaned against your palm and sighed. “What am I doing Makino?” You asked. “I work during the day, I’ve somehow become Luffy’s guardian and now I’m sleeping with a pirate.”

“I think you’re enjoying the fruits of life. Especially when they sail in a day early just to see you.” The barkeep comforted. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She was right. It was okay to live in the moment and let things be as they are. Besides, Shanks made it adamant to give his heart to you from the start.

Masterlist here (for more One Piece)

[moonselune]

hello again!!! can we have tav and gang playing keep away with gale and throwing a book around so gale dont get it? Lol just for funsiessss

ahaha i love tormenting the rizzard for funsiesssss. I did do it x gale but only slightly and right at the end x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale x reader | Team Effort

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

It all starts with an innocent flicker of irritation. Gale's nose has been buried in his book for hours now, his eyes skimming line after line of ancient script while the campfire crackles and pops nearby. You’ve tried everything to get his attention—conversation, light touches on his arm, even sitting directly beside him with your head leaning against his shoulder—but the man remains steadfast in his studies, mumbling to himself about this theory or that enchantment.

That’s when an idea strikes you. It’s childish, maybe a bit petty, but you can’t resist. You lean forward, snatching the book right out of Gale’s hands before he has a chance to react.

“Enough with the reading,” you declare with a triumphant grin. “It’s my turn now.”

Gale blinks, taken aback. “What on earth—hey!” He reaches out, but you’ve already tossed the book over to Astarion, who catches it with a gleeful smile, holding it just out of Gale’s reach.

“Aww, is the little wizard upset?” Astarion taunts, his tone dripping with mock sympathy as he lifts the book high above his head. Gale lunges for it, but Astarion swiftly tosses it to Shadowheart.

Shadowheart catches it effortlessly, raising an eyebrow as she smirks. “You know, Gale, I always thought there were more interesting ways to spend an evening than staring at musty old pages.”

Gale lets out a huff, clearly torn between amusement and exasperation. “Very funny. Now, if you’d be so kind, that’s a delicate and irreplaceable—”

“Catch!” Shadowheart interrupts, throwing the book to Karlach, who fumbles it slightly before securing it against her chest with a loud laugh.

“Damn, this thing’s heavier than I thought!” Karlach grins, looking at Gale’s increasingly frustrated face. “You know, wizard, I’ve seen you move faster in battle. What’s the matter? Can’t keep up?”

Gale glares at her but can’t suppress the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re all insufferable,” he mutters, but there’s no real heat behind his words. He makes a half-hearted attempt to grab the book from Karlach, who merely twirls away from him with surprising grace and flings it back to you.

You catch it with a flourish, sticking your tongue out at Gale. “Oh, come on, don’t look so serious! It’s just a little game.”

Gale’s eyes narrow playfully, and he takes a step toward you, his fingers twitching as if to prepare a spell. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You laugh, tossing the book over his head to Astarion once more. “Try me!”

The game continues, the four of you taking turns tossing Gale’s book just out of his reach, laughing each time he comes so close only to have it snatched away again. He’s trying to remain calm, but you can see the growing frustration mixed with amusement etched into his features. He darts from one of you to the next, his hair becoming more tousled, his shirt slipping from his shoulders, and his eyes flashing with a determination that’s far too intense for something so trivial.

Finally, Gale has had enough. As the book soars from Astarion to Shadowheart again, you see a shimmer in the air. A ghostly hand, glowing faintly with arcane energy, appears out of nowhere and intercepts the book mid-flight, catching it gently and cradling it in its palm before drawing it back to Gale.

The camp goes silent for a moment as he holds up the book triumphantly, a smug smile plastered across his face. “Mage Hand, my dear,” he announces grandly, as if he’s just solved the most complex puzzle in Faerûn. “Sometimes, a little magic goes a long way.”

There’s a collective groan from the group as you all boo him, playful jeers and shouts filling the air. “Oh, come on, that’s cheating!” Karlach protests, throwing her hands up in mock indignation.

“You really had to bring magic into this?” Astarion rolls his eyes dramatically. “Honestly, Gale, I thought you were above such cheap tricks.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, sighing theatrically. “And here I thought we were having a fair game.”

You, however, step up to Gale, arms crossed but a smile tugging at your lips. “I can’t believe you just used a spell to win a game of keep-away,” you tease, unable to hide your amusement. “What, couldn’t stand losing to me?”

Gale looks down at you, a playful light dancing in his eyes as he steps closer. “It’s not that,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough that his voice drops to a whisper meant only for you. “I simply needed an excuse to finally catch you.”

Before you can respond, he leans forward and presses a quick, soft kiss to your lips. You melt into it, momentarily forgetting about the game, the others, everything but the warmth of him.

Behind you, there’s an exaggerated gagging sound from Astarion. “Ugh, I’m going to be sick,” he complains, though you can hear the grin in his voice.

“Get a room, you two!” Karlach chimes in, laughing loudly.

Gale pulls away with a smirk, still holding his book, his gaze never leaving yours. “Next time,” he says softly, “perhaps you’ll think twice before trying to steal from a wizard.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that breaks across your face. “No promises,” you reply, and though he groans, you can see the warmth in his eyes, the way they soften just for you. And that’s worth more than any game.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

poor rizzard. Hope you guys enjoyed it!! - Seluney xox

Keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[paddockbunny]

Repeat Offender

Summary : Charles is recently single and quickly finds himself in a "friends with benefits" situation with none other than his ex-girlfriend's best friend.

Rating : 18+, Mature

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x Reader

Word Count : 7, 345

Trigger Warnings : 18+, Mature & Adult themes, Angsty, FWB situation, PinV sex, Unprotected sex, Oral (female receiving), slight choking, c*m talk & language

Authors Note : Firstly, I had around five or six requests for a newly single charles or rebounding charles so I've amalgamated them all into one. Thank you for the inspo to all of those who requested something to do with this. I'm trying out some first person stuff on this one so although it's labelled as "reader" YOU are in fact the author/reader if that makes sense. I also don't mention Charles' ex by name and that is very much on purpose as I keep my blog as IRL WAG free as possible so none of my stories will feature any of their names, hope you can all understand why. Anyway, this is LOOOOOONG so it has not been proofread yet.

You know when you wake up but your not fully awake yet, you’re like conscious but not alert? Well, that was exactly how I was feeling as the room was ever so slightly spinning and the faint memory of strawberry daiquiri's and vodka shots were beginning to flash across my eyes. So was the deafening sound of the music, the ache in the arches of my feet from stupid heels and the feeling of hands creeping around my waist pulling my ass against a firm crotch while dancing. Then as I slowly crept more and more into consciousness I felt the slight ache from my thighs kick in and the feeling my body had been through it.

Finally, after summoning up the energy to do it, I managed to open my eyes. They felt heavy and dense and I realised there was no way I had made it home because I had slept in my make-up - and regardless of whatever state I was in I would always manage to stumble into the bathroom to at least wipe most of the night out greasepaint off of my face so the fact it was still firmly in place meant the worst. As my vision was struggled to focus I wriggled around in a rather comfortable bed and attempted to pull myself up without a wave of nausea lash upon me. Exactly how much did I fucking drink last night? But then as eventually my eyes concentrated on something and a very loud groan reverberated from my throat. The familiar bright coloured art work that hung from the white wall across from the bottom of the bed was like a vicious, unwelcome enemy. I had studied it far too many times to count and each time it got worse and worse. It was like the eyes of T. J Eckleburg in The Great Gatsby, but instead of the judgment of an inanimate object upon American society, this horrendous painting was judging my piss poor decisions of the night prior which lead me to waking up in this damn bed, once again. And as my stomach lurched I had to force myself to make sure I was in the bed of the man whom the awful painting belonged to.

At an almost glacier pace my head began to turn. Crawling up the sheet clad outline of a pair of calves, knees and up to big, broad thighs and into the covered - yet barely - crotch. The outline of his cock almost visible through the white cotton that was practically failing to protect his modesty. His hips were next, then the outline of abs which yeah ok - I can admit it, I’ve traced with my tongue before so sue me. Then I couldn’t do it any longer. I was just drawing things out. I snapped my head immediately up to his and yup! It was Charles.

“Oh fuck!” I groaned loudly and with an eye roll I drew my hands over my face. Listen, you might be thinking “he’s fucking hot as hell, probably an incredible shag and I’d love to know how big his cock is” but, it’s all the other stuff that goes along with these nights of drunken yet passionate sex with Charles that makes me sick to my stomach each time I wake up here. You see Charles had so much awkward baggage that spilled over into my own life and I really went through several stages of self loathing when I left his apartment and had the embarrassing walk of shame home the next day. “Good morning to you too.” He scoffed loudly but by this point I knew he probably felt as guilt-ridden and dismayed as I felt.

Silence had momentarily befallen us. All I heard was the quick typing of his thumbs hitting his phone screen. It was almost annoying. That incessant tap, tappy tappy tappy, tap, tap as he typed whatever was in his head into a text or whatever he was doing. I couldn’t help it, I rolled my eyes and thought how likely it was that he was probably texting one of his friends telling them how the pair of us had hooked up AGAIN! Most likely he was asking for their advice on how to get me out of his bed. Not that he needed any because there was no way in hell I felt like staying. I wanted to get out of here as badly and he wanted to kick me out. Just as I moved to sit upright a bit more and try search for my stomach lurched and I had to take a few deep breaths not to feel the effects of last nights alcohol. Something which unfortunately Charles noticed and as he asked if I was suffering from a the dreaded hangover, sarcasm laced thick in his voice.

“Why does this always happen? Why do we do this?” I sighed while letting out a long, drawn out exhale. The question hung in the air and I could feel Charles’ eyes suddenly burrowing into the side of my head. I knew there were words teetering on the tip of his tongue and could practically hear his brain working out a response that sounded appropriate for me but thankfully, he remained in silence. There was no doubt he would have been regretting whatever things happened last night as much as I was and yet, he didn’t seem particularly consumed by guilt. He seemed rather carefree right now so scoff I closed my eyes in an attempt to piece the puzzle together remember what the fuck happened last night.

The music was far too loud but the fourth fruity cocktail I currently clasped in my hand made me rather immune and numb to it. I danced just like all the other girls out in the middle of the crowded dance floor. Hips swaying side to side in time with the rhythm. Hair swishing around without a care in the world. Feet aching in stupid stilettos. To have looked at me in that moment anyone would be forgiven for thinking I was a party girl. One of those glamorous girls always out on the town, partying, blowing cash (boys and snow* too probably) but really I hated going out. I hated the stress of finding something to wear, doing the whole routine of make-up and hair and then feeling like I was in the middle of a cattle market. At least the men in Monaco happened to be rich and therefore no girls spent a dime all night from all the free drinks that would get bought. And the fact that someone in my group always seemed to know someone else in another and that meant VIP was inevitable. And I mean come on, who wouldn’t want to be sat in VIP?! Which was funnily enough, where Amelie was pulling me in the direction of and then I sighed when I saw why.

Sat in a booth was none other than Charles and his gang of buddies that I really wish would have been anywhere else in the world tonight and not in this nightclub. As soon as he looked around and saw me heading toward him I swear he rolled his eyes.

“Fucking hello to you too Charles.” I thought, muttering under my breath while I and rolled my own eyes back at him sarcastically. And that was when my mind flashed back to the last time we saw each other. It had been at that shitty dinner where I actually felt sorry for him having to sit the whole night flashing googly eyes at his ex girlfriend hoping she would notice him even though the night before he had had his cock shoved down my throat, me! The one he spent the entire time ignoring. But the thing was, I knew one thing he didn’t and that was she was already moving on with someone who might have been too close too home for him to even comprehend. Yet, with his attitude I said nothing and allowed him to remain in purgatory. Sad thing was, she never even so much as glanced at him the whole meal. Then I remembered what happened after, once everyone had drank heavily and shared cars home. It hadn’t been the first time (nor the second, third or fourth and was actually more like the eleventh or twelfth) that Charles had put the moves on me and I stupidly succumbed to his seductions. But now as I reached the table the thought of his hands being between my thighs, his fingers caressing my desperate clit with the door to his apartment wide open behind us in an utterly voyeuristic display - one that I would never have pegged him as the type to enjoy - danced teasingly through my thoughts. He slid into the booth a little more and nodded in the direction of the now vacant faux leather seat beside him for me to sit in. He looked good tonight and for once that wasn’t the alcohol in my system talking. He seemed to be in good spirits and I figured he must have been celebrating a good race. It was neutral ground so I thought it was something I could talk to him about. When I went to open my mouth to do exactly so, my words were swallowed by his; “Have you seen her recently?” Your mouth parted slightly before closing. You had to bite your tongue before you said something to the effect of “fuck off” or “fuck you” and quickly shook your head to respond to him. Then loudly from across the table one of his friends shouted loudly “shots” and thankfully it distracted Charles from pushing the conversation toward her like he wanted.

Several shots were taken and yet another strong strawberry daiquiri was being drunk while having as everyone sat at the table has as much of a conversation as possible over the loud thumping music. I raised my voice as I leaned forward to answer one of the questions Charles’ friends had asked me. We had met before and yet he did that typical male thing of forgetting who I was and therefore I had to tell him all over again much to my slight annoyance and dismay. But as I was explaining what I did for a living, I stuttered when suddenly I felt the flesh of soft fingertips ghost up and down my bare naked thigh. The action almost made me brake my calm, collected exterior. He couldn’t be serious? We had barely spoken since I sat down nearly an hour ago and as his thumb stroked up and down the skin of my inner thigh I glanced at him. He wasn’t even paying attention, he was doing it just for the sake of it, because he could. And so without a single thought I decided it was time to go and dance again. I wanted to put distance between him and I because we would only end up doing what was by now becoming a habit and falling into bed together.

As I grabbed Amelie and pulled her back to dance with me, I could feel the familiar pulsating throb from between my thighs at the thought of Charles. I tried to push the thoughts of him out of my brain as I began dancing and yet, it was a pointless task as all I kept thinking about was how badly I needed him and how he melted all of my annoyed thoughts of him away with a simple touch of his damn hand. The worst part was, just as Amelie and I settled into moving our bodies one of Charles’ friends rudely pushed between us. I was just about to argue and tell him to get lost when I suddenly felt hands creep around my waist. I didn’t need to look to know who they belonged too and I realised the intrusion in between me and my dance partner had been orchestrated.

“Running away from me?” Charles purred against the side of my neck. Why did he do this? Every single time we saw each other he always got underneath my skin. I hated him for it but I felt powerless against him and his cocky seduction techniques. His hands gripped my waist tighter as he pulled me back so I was flush against him. Our hips moving side to side while he got all the friction of my ass grinding against his crotch. “We said the last time was the last time.” “No. You did.” His words were more direct than I would have expected them to be. Almost like he was annoyed at me for implying I was about to turn him down - as if I could if I wanted too, just having the teasing action of his clothed cock so close to where I wanted it would have had me making a public embarrassment of myself right here in a nightclub. And without warning he used those lingering hands to turn me around to face him. “Let me take you home.” “No, Charles. We cannot keep doing this.” The sheer fact that when I spoke to him he was looking at my mouth instead of in my eyes made me want to kick him in the shin for being so vexing. But right as I was trying to convince myself to stand my ground against him he cast his eyes across my body and fuck, the things it did to me when he looked at me like that. “Charles, we’re playing with fire….”

“So? We’ll both burn together.” He shrugged nonchalantly. And I suddenly realised how we were no longer dancing and simply standing staring at each other while everyone else around us continued. In a regular situation - when alcohol wasn’t coursing through my body clouding my judgment - I would have felt self conscious but right now all I could think about was the fact he wanted me so badly he was out here making bold declarations. For a second the fact his first words to me earlier were about his ex girlfriend entered into my mind and a fleeting crushing feeling passed through my soul. He just wanted me to release his tension, not because he ACTUALLY wanted me. I zoned out briefly as I thought of how bad I always felt the next day and considered if I was strong enough to do it again. But as I was contemplating his hand travelled up to my neck and he made me look at him and I was gone. I wanted him to make me feel good.

How he managed to get us both out of the nightclub so easily I had no idea. His hand was wrapped around my wrist guiding me past hordes of people and out toward an exit. It took all but two minutes until we were in the back of a car heading back to his. It seemed too swift to me, too well thought out and I realised that he was so arrogant because he knew I would say yes and probably pre-arranged the car to pick us up. In that second I knew I should have been so pissed off and angry that he would think I was that easy but I let it slip again because I knew I was using him as much as he was using me. I liked the momentary, fleeting high he gave me. I was like a drug taker, he was the drug, and I was willing to take the short hits when I could. So I was every bit as bad as he was. Charles normally didn’t behave to politely in the back of the cars we took as we went back to his. His hands would be roaming, following suit with his mouth. He always made sure to light the match inside of me before we even got to the safety of his apartment. The fact he could be caught out, someone could tell, seemed to always be the furthest thing from his mind and so tonight, it was different. He sat further away and kept his hands very much to himself. And when I couldn’t help but glance across the car toward him and watched as his jaw seemed to clench I swallowed while nerves buzzed through my brain.

As soon as we got to his apartment building Charles called for the elevator and I couldn’t help but feel the same attitude radiating from him. It was the same attitude he had in the car and I thought about turning on my heels and leaving immediately. I didn't even know how to read him. Which meant I was so caught in the thought of trying to work him out that I missed the ding of the lift stopping on the lobby and sliding open. It wasn’t until Charles practically purred my name and held his hand out for me from inside the elevator that I snapped back into reality due to the look that filled his eyes. You knew it all too well. It was self assured, cocky confidence. He knew I couldn’t turn him down, I couldn’t turn his cock down, I craved it and what he could do with it too much. And so when my high heel clad feet crossed the marble floor and passed the iron thread hold of the lift I felt the surge of excitement buzz throughout my body.

The pair of us rode the elevator is silence but my hand remained firmly gripped in Charles’ and his thumb was delicately running over the back of my knuckles. It would be almost fucking romantic if there was any smidgen of a “normal” relationship between us. Now that I had registered the buzz of excitement I also felt the more steady and familiar hit of anxiety that went with it. It was pre-sex anxiety - that realistically I had no reason to have, this wasn’t my first rodeo (certainly not with Charles) but I still had it anyway. The silence would have been deafening to anyone else but right now I was kind of thankful for it. I didn’t want to chat because if I did I would feel guilt and I really didn’t want to feel guilty about what my body craved and desired above all else. The short ride up to Charles’ apartment ended when the lift door slid open and he gently pulled me out behind him. Fuck, I wish I had drunk more. Alcohol would have banished the unfair apprehension I was feeling. I leaned against the wall while Charles opened the door with his key. The curve of his shoulders made my mouth water. The thought of kissing his thick, strong neck while hearing the sound of pleasurable moans escape him sent a pulsating ache through my core. He pushed open the door and held it there with his hand, waiting for me to enter his abode first, ahead of him. And I mustered up all the confidence I could manage to saunter past him and glide into the hallway. The millions he took home from his career driving in fast circles paid off. Charles home was beautiful but like always, I wasn’t here to appreciate it.

Charles hands on my bare arms reminded me of that. He pressed against me from behind and I could feel his semi hard cock already straining against his jeans and I tried desperately to hold it back but a gasp escaped passed my lips as he moved my hair to the side to expose my neck to him. Fuck. The feel of his lips as they pressed delicate tender kisses against my flesh had my mind whirling. I pushed back into him more, instinct completely taking over, and a low groan rolled out of his parted lips and sent tingles up and down my spine. It was dangerous to have allowed myself to think it but I gave in and thought about how it would feel to have been his - properly, as a girlfriend - for all but a few fleeting seconds.

When Charles hands moved from my arms to my waist and I wasted no time. The alcohol came rushing back to me and I turned to him at breakneck speed. My lips finding his immediately. As my hands slowly glided upon the skin of his neck holding him to me. When I let out a small moan it was the sign he needed to start pushing me backward till my back pressed against a cold wall and his tongue pushed into my mouth. He tasted like the liquor he had consumed and as his tongue ran teasingly across my bottom lip he followed it with his teeth and it brought another moan from me, like he knew it would. Charles’ hands left my waist and I felt them slip down to my legs. His fingers skimming the outside of my thighs. I knew he wanted to push my dress up. He was growing impatient and that became very obvious when he yanked me away from the wall and pulled me through his house to his bedroom. The familiar surroundings welcomed me like a sneaky comrade. The walls practically smirked as I was pulled in by Charles. I could become accustomed to these plush surroundings if he saw me as more than a just a hook-up but that was a fucking dumb idea.

My dress was off faster than I knew what was happening. It was around my ankles on the floor and Charles was already making fast work of removing his shirt. His eyes hungrily fixed on my bare chest. He was practically wolf like as his eyes remained on my skin the whole time. I would have blushed if I had been less confident. “Take them off.” It was the first time he spoke since we had left the club. “You heard me.” He flashed his eyes down toward the thin scrap of black lace material that could barely behold the name of underwear. As my eyes travelled down to where his hands were working on ridding himself of his jeans I realised I wasn’t ready to allow him to have all the fun. “No.” I stated. “Take them off me.” My stomach flipped and I watched as a smirk disappeared from his face as quick as it appeared.

“That’s how you want it huh?” He abandoned trying to remove his jeans and his hand suddenly went to my neck and held me firmly before he used it to push me backward on to the bed. My heart hastily quickened. It hammered against my rib cage so quickly it began to hurt. I looked up at him full of expectation but he wasted no time in hooking his fingers around the sides of the only material left on my body and roughly pulling them down my legs and off completely. I watched Charles as he took me in. His eyes casting over and lingering in all the important areas. I bit my bottom lip as my own eyes mimicked his and I took in his perfectly sculpted chest and then his defined muscular abs. The lines on his hips that were line a tempting signal down toward his now erect cock, standing to full attention. He watched me watching him and cockily laughed. “Go on.” He tilted his head and I knew exactly what he was referring too. He wanted head. He wanted me to blow him. And I would have, I would have blown him till my jaw ached and throat couldn’t take anymore, but I reminded him that he wasn’t getting full control.

Much to Charles surprise, I pulled my ankles up and put myself on full display for him. I played him at his own game. If he wanted me to go down on him he had to do it first. I held his gaze and so when he laughed again I wasn’t so sure he was as willing to be a giver as much as a taker, but within a few agonising moments he proved me wrong. Charles was down on his knees and instantly pulled your legs up so you could rest them on his shoulders. And although it was something of an embarrassing confession to make, all of the times we had had sex, Charles had never gone down on me. Not once. So now that his head was between my thighs, mouth so tantalisingly close, eyes locked on to mine, I held my breath in anticipation. Charles gently ran his fingers up and down my dampening folds. I swallowed the breath that was caught in my throat as Charles finally licked a slow, teasing stripe that followed the pattern of his fingers moments earlier. He repeated the action over and over again. Using it to torment me. My hands grabbed hold of the sheets, fingers entwined in the high thread count duvet, when Charles began to pay attention to my pulsating, throbbing clit. Small, short flutters were mixed in with strong kisses. And then a loud exhale left my lips as he pushed two of his fingers inside me.

“Char….” I couldn’t get his name out. My breathing was erratic and all I could think about was what his mouth was doing. As his tongue continued lapping at my clit, his fingers curled up inside of me and Charles immediately found and started massaging that magical spot that made me gasp. And he continued even when I shoved my hands through his hair and gripped on for dead life. My eyes squeezed tightly shut as I felt the first high of an orgasm fast approaching. Swear words were all I could manage. My mouth going between wide open to get as much air as I possibly could and tightly shut with my top teeth digging into my bottom lip practically drawing blood. I was almost so lost in the beginning of the wave of euphoric pleasure that I missed the moan Charles made as he felt my walls start to convulse around his fingers. Fuck. How and why did I not beg for him to do this to me sooner? He was far too good at it. It was borderline obscene how good he was at it. And totally criminal that he had never gone down on me before. Right as I felt every nerve in my body begin to be ignited with the high of a climax Charles removed his mouth and in its place used the fingers of his other hand to draw rapid circles against my clit. The motion made me loose complete control of my mind and his name burst free from my mouth as wave upon wave of ecstasy crashed upon me. The high was undeniable. It took hold of my body and I felt myself quivering as he slipped his fingers out of me, covered in the product of my orgasm.

“Look at me.” Charles voice came quietly but strongly and I did as he requested. I opened my eyes and looked down at where he still remained, between my thighs. He held my stare as he ran the fingers he had brought me to orgasm with back up and down my now dripping folds. A small tremor shuddered through my thighs as he did so. And then with my eyes trained straight on his he raised his fingers to his mouth and licked them. It took a second to register the feeling that I felt in that moment but as he raised to his feet and I saw his cock rock hard, with its purpling tip already leaking pre-cum, I knew it was one that filled me with unashamed excitement. “Turn over.” He demanded and I relinquished the control I had won earlier so easily. Not because he wanted me too but because I wanted too. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than for Charles to fucking rail me into oblivion. I turned and got on all fours on the bed. Ass facing him. It was a position I had come to realise was one of his favourites. Sure he liked watching my boobs bounce as I rode him cowgirl and sometimes if he was feeling slightly more tired he’d fuck missionary, but Doggy was his favourite (like most guys). The momentary lapse of concentration earned me a firm thwack of his hand against the round flesh of my ass. I yelped and lunged forward and I felt the enjoyment radiating off of him. I doubted she let him do that, I doubted she would have enjoyed it. I moaned and after I wiggled my hips around a little he did it again so that a more audible whimper left my mouth.

“Fuck me…” I knew it was what he wanted to hear so I gave it to him. “Please, Charles….” I added more good measure and sure enough, he pulled my hips back and immediately ran his leaking cock over my sensitive folds to collect the mixture of his spit and my juices.

As he lined up at my entrance and pushed the head of his cock inside of me, teasingly slowly, I pushed back for more. It was an action that I knew he would have enjoyed and he groaned as he gave me more of himself. His hand splayed on my lower back and forced me down into the mattress more so I arched for him and then he gave me all of himself. He bottomed out and the stretch from his girthy cock had me once again gasping and gripping the sheets. He stalled for a moment - savouring the feeling no doubt - before he began moving. Slow at first. A steady but slow rhythm that I needed, rather than wanted, to quickly increase. Charles moaned loudly and paused for a second only to surprise me completely. “Your pussy is so fucking perfect. You, are so fucking perfect.” I knew he didn’t mean it in THAT way - he didn’t like me like that, I knew that and he didn’t even need to verbalise it - but his praise made me feel good all the same. I wriggled my hips again to urge him to move and when he did his pace increased. It increased until I was a panting writhing mess. I loved how big he felt at this angle and how he would alternate between giving me quick, short spanks and pulling my hair. And honestly I truly had to focus so I didn’t cum just yet. His cock continually hitting my g-spot could have made me see stars but I didn’t want to give in yet. I wanted more of him so I urged him on my moaning his name over and over and over again through heavy sighs. His hand wrapped itself around my hair once again and this time he pulled me back so my back was flush against him.

“Say my name again.” His voice was lower than I had ever heard it before. Lower than I ever thought possible. The hand that had been wrapped around my long hair was now around my throat, holding my in place against his body as he continued thrusting up into me. I couldn’t focus on words. I just kept thinking about Charles’ lips being on my neck and feeling how fast my heart was going through the vein they lingered upon. His teeth grazed the flesh and his name whimpered across my lips a few times before he finally called me a “good girl” and I almost lost my mind between that and the angle his cock was at. He had to know how close I was. He had to feel how my pussy tightened around his cock and I was beginning to struggle to keep going. His teeth sunk into my shoulder and he groaned as I couldn’t stop the orgasm that came thrashing down upon me. I grabbed his arm so tightly my fingernails would leave marks upon his skin. My whole body convulsed as finally I let go and let the climax take hold of me. The high Charles had given me seemed to be otherworldly and stratospheric. It took me to another fucking planet and none more so than when he groaned, gripped my hips and held me down in place while he himself, found release. I could feel the pulse of his cock inside of me as his hot, milky cum poured out of him. The feeling was insurmountable. The twitch of him as he filled me up seemed the prolong my orgasm even longer and when the shakes that ravaged my body became too much, I couldn’t keep my knees from giving way and so finally fell forward against the bed again. All I could hear was Charles and I’s heavy, exhausted breathing.

As Charles settled down beside me on the bed he ran his hands up and down my back. It was a rather tender, sweet motion for someone who had just railed me into oblivion but I didn’t mind it. Suddenly as I found myself lying still - still recovering from those two incredible orgasms - I felt the alcohol from earlier catch up on me. The room seemed a bit spiny and I really didn’t want to throw up anywhere in Charles all white apartment. But then - right on queue - with his breathing still laboured Charles asked if I wanted anything and suggested a towel and a glass of water. Not to sound like a broken fucking record but this was new, he had never done this before. He had never really spoken after we had fucked so this was totally left field. I nodded and said both would be nice if he didn’t mind.

“Ok, be right back.” I listened to his words but stayed in the same position as I had earlier - mainly because I was scared of being sick and because now I was completely exhausted but also because I didn’t want Charles’ cum to leak out of me and go all over his extortionate sheets. I thought the action of him going to get me things would have been nice for a normal, regular girl (y’know, one he was dating) but seemed unusual for him to extend such gestures to me, his fuck buddy, his hook-up, his piece of ass. When he finally came back clutching an ice cold glass of water and a warmed damp towel for me to clean up with I expected him to hand me my dress as well. But my dress remained on the floor and he stared down at me while I drank from the glass. “Let me.” He motioned when I went for the towel. Charles took the glass from me and placed it on the floor before crouching down there himself. I was about to question him, ask him what he thought he was doing, when he lifted one of my legs and slowly parted them. My breathing all but stopped as he dabbed at my slightly red, a little bit tender pussy with the warm cloth. I let out an unsteady, unsure exhale of air as he watched his cum slowly seep out of me.

“Hmmm….” He purred “I should have told you my pull out game is weak.” He chuckled and in that singular moment he made me laugh. He sat back on his heels and laughed with me and all of the nervous energy in my body disappeared. All I could focus on was the sound of his laughter and how much I liked it and in a different life I would have wanted to hear it every single day for an eternity.

I rushed to try and find my dress, hoping that he hadn’t torn this one like last time. I wanted to spend the least amount of time naked in front of him as possible now snapshots of last night began coming back to me. Charles observed from his place in bed. Watching me as I sprinted around to get back into last nights clothes so I could leave. As the sunlight streamed in through his window it bathed us both in the cold harsh reality of the day and it was very much bringing a self loathing vibe along with it. Suddenly a wave of riotous nausea flashed upon me and my head felt like it belonged in a vice. Through clenched teeth I rubbed my forehead from the searing pain screaming throughout it

“Can I get you painkillers?” His voice had turned soft and was rather strange because it wasn’t what I was used too from him - or was that the narrative my own brain made up for me to believe he was a metaphorical bad guy? “Don’t do that, Charles. Don’t be nice to me.” “Why?” He acted so innocent and I knew he was putting on a front, there was no way he could be so stupid. “Because!” I practically shrieked, “I’m your ex-girlfriend’s best friend and we can’t stop fucking each other.” “I think you’ll probably be her ex-best friend if she finds out about us.” FUCK! He really didn’t need to hit me with the reality stick right now. The smugness was almost woven through his voice and I had to restrain myself from throttling him. But in reality the cold light of day made me feel angry and disappointed with myself, something I doubted he felt about this situation at all.

“That’s not going to happen.” I snap back at him. “Because there is no “us”, there never will be an “us.” Your voice lowered and you knew it sounded sadder than you intended. It didn’t stop Charles from continuing however. “Right…..” he rolled his eyes “until you’ve had too many strong cocktails and vodka shots and then you won’t be able to say no. Just like you always.” With his words lingering in the air I had to fight the urge to yell at him that I was never the instigator and he was the one who always came after me. I desperately wanted to fucking correct him and scream at him that he used me to forget about his ex, about Ferrari, about all the pressures of the life he leads and that it was HIM that sought ME out, not the other way around. But for some unknown reason, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to start an argument with him. I pulled on my dress hurriedly once I found it, no longer wanting to be so naked in front of him. All I wanted was to get the embarrassing walk of shame back to my apartment over already. I busied myself from the silence by looking for my shoes and I almost missed Charles getting out of bed and getting dressed.

“I’ll give you a ride home.” I heard him say as I pulled up the covers and found my black heel under them at the bottom of the bed. I now felt uncomfortable in his presence after the last words he spoke. Instinctively I told him; “It’s fine, I’ll call an Uber.” “I’m not suggesting. I’m telling.” He stated bluntly and this was new, this had never happened before. He was rarely awake when I slunk out the door of his apartment - because it was always his apartment or hotel room never mine - so this was completely foreign to me. “If you’re sure.” I half expected him to say of course he didn’t mean it, laugh, explain he was messing and to call that Uber immediately. But he just nodded and picked up my other heel from beside the door and held it out to me. I tried to avoid his eyes. I didn’t want him to see any emotion at at all behind mines so I took the shoe and shoved it on to distract myself.

We didn’t speak the whole ride to my apartment. The silence was only somewhat uncomfortable but for some strange reason things felt rather calm. Sitting in the passenger seat of Charles’ Ferrari - which I had never before sat in - felt somewhat surreal. I was hyper aware that the seat still practically bore another girls name. It still belonged to her and he would have her back without so much as blinking. I kept my eyes on the roads as Charles expertly drove the expensive luxury vehicle around them. Hoping the red lights would turn green as soon as we approached them.

“I do like you, y’know?” Came abruptly from Charles mouth when we turned onto my street, my apartment building in sight. I thought my ears were deceiving me so I broke my trance and glanced at him. “I know you probably think you’re just a rebound or….” He trailed off as he put the blinker on to pull over into the lane he could stop in to let me out. I could see the front door to my building and I had never seen a more welcome sight. “…but it’s not like that.”

I was desperate to ask what it was in fact like, what exactly he thought was going on but thankfully he brought the car to a stop and I could finally jump out and escape the awkwardness. There was this uneasy feeling in the car that hit me like a led balloon and right in the middle of my chest. I hated it. I wasn’t used to it, especially not with Charles. I was used to feeling annoyed, frustrated and fuck, disappointed by him. The first few times we fucked I’d have said I felt used but that went away because I enjoyed our trysts as much as he did. And besides I didn’t need validation from him. I didn’t need him to need me. But then right now, as I waited to get out of the car with my hand on the door handle, it hit me how badly the words he had just spoken were actually all the things that I craved and desired above all else and it was startling. Then Charles said my name so gently, totally unlike he had ever said it before, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “I’d like to take you out sometime, properly. On a date.”

But before I knew what I was even doing I pulled the handle, pushed the door and started getting out of his car. He yelled my name so I would stop and for a second I did but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, to fall for him. “You know that can’t happen, Charles.” I managed to say in something struggling to be above a whisper “you don’t want me, you don’t even really like me, you’re still in love with her.”

The elevator ride up to my apartment felt like it took an eternity. The words he had spoken rang throughout my head as if a bomb had gone off and I was momentarily deaf. Fuck him. Fuck his bullshit and fuck how I fucking felt right now because of him. I was right for telling him that he was wrong and he still loved his stupid ex but it hurt because being with him always did. Being picked up and dropped all the time hurt. I wanted to be one of those girls who would have fallen for his words, whose stomach flipped when he told them he liked them, but I wasn’t and mines didn’t. I knew it was just about sex. I wasn’t his type. I wasn’t right for him. I’d never be his girl….and yet as the doors opened to my floor, I couldn’t wait till the next time I could fall asleep beside him and hate myself for it the next day.

*snow = cocaine

[mooonage-daydreamer]

hey guys! this is my first ever micro-fic for the marauders! i hope it’s ok xx

marauders playing monopoly- 705 words - hope u enjoy!

It was already 11 p.m; how is it possible for a monopoly game to last this long? Remus thought to himself. Mary had fallen asleep on Lily’s shoulder, Remus was reading his book, and James looked as though he was on the verge of tears; it was just Sirius and Marlene shouting at each other. Remus was certain no one had any idea what they were arguing over at this point, but none of them really cared; they all wanted the game to just finish already. Finally, the arguing died down, but then Lily nudged him to draw his attention from his book and let him know it was his turn. Why did he agree to ever play in the first place?

“Remind me to never play monopoly with Sirius and Marlene again," he asked Lily. She looked just as fed up as he was and sighed in agreement. He took his turn, and unfortunately, he landed on Sirius’ property.

“HA!” Sirius exclaimed, “That will be 200 quid, thank you very much, my dear Moony!”

“I’ve ran out of money," replied Remus. He hadn’t really; he just didn’t have the energy to play anymore.

“WHAT!” replied Sirius angrily. “THEN HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET PAYED?"

“Padfoot! Calm down!” James said.

“BUT HE NEEDS TO PAY ME! HE LANDED ON MY PROPERTY, SO HE MUST PAY ME! THATS HOW THE GAME WORKS!” argued Sirius.

“That wasn’t the rule five minutes ago when you landed on my property," Marlene retorted quietly.

“Look,” James replied, “why don’t we just call it quits for tonight? We’re all tired, and we want to go to bed.”

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement except Sirius and Marlene, of course.

“THATS NOT FAIR THOUGH!” they shouted in unison. They glanced at each other, then back at James.

“If you two are so desperate to win,” interrupted Remus, “why don’t you two just carry on?”

For the first time in that long evening, everyone agreed, even Sirius and Marlene.

“Fine.” Marlene said while glaring at Sirius.

They all knew it was a bad idea to leave the two most competitive people alone while playing a board game, but they were all too tired to care. Peter, James, Remus, Lily, and Mary all headed upstairs to go to bed, but only minutes later they heard more shouting.

"NO, YOU DONT DESERVE MY MONEY!” screamed Marlene.

"THAT IS NOT HOW THE GAME WORKS!” screeched Sirius.

"WELL, THE RULES ARE ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT! WHY SHOULD I GIVE MY HARD-EARNED MONEY TO A CRIMINAL?” Marlene shrieked.

“ITS NOT MY FAULT IM IN JAIL!” yelled Sirius.

“Ok, rock, paper, scissor, who goes down to sort this out as they clearly can’t sort it out themselves?" suggested Remus.

“Good idea,” Lily responded, “rock, paper, scissors shoot!”

“For fuck sake,” Remus complained, “it was my idea; why do I have to do it?"

“Remus, please,” Peter said, “we don’t give a shit what you do, just sort it.”

"Ugh, fine,” he replied. So Remus made his way down the stairs, but just as soon as he reached the bottom, Sirius bombarded him with questions.

“MOONY! "DON'T YOU AGREE WITH ME?" he asked. “RULES ARE RULES RIGHT?”

Remus just ignored him and slowly started walking over to the monopoly board. Once he reached the board, he looked them both in the eye and just flipped the board upside down. “There”, he thought, the game was finished.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Sirius and Marlene screamed at him.

Ignoring them, Remus began making his way back up the stairs to join the others. Peter looked at him with genuine fear in his face. “Moony, what have you done?" he asked.

“We all wanted the game to end, right?” he said. There were murmurs of agreement.

“So I just did the simplest thing and flipped the board over.”

"Oh, Moony, mate, you’re absolutely fucked.”

James told him.

“I mean, someone had to do it,” Mary responded while yawning. “Does this mean we can go to bed now?”

“Yes,” Lily said almost immediately, “come on.”

It was almost 1 a.m. when the screaming finally died down. Remus assumed they had fallen asleep while arguing. ‘I’m chucking that board game out when I wake up tomorrow’, Remus thought to himself

[ddejavvu]

idgaf about eddie but i’ve wanted venom since i was a wee lad. venom who’s all big and mean and manhandles you because you’re nothing. talks about how he could squash you like a bug between his fingers yet here you are letting him fuck your interesting little human pleasure hole

FUCK indy i've had this brewing in my inbox and now i've finally got the time to give it the attention it deserves <3

this post is 18+, minors dni. cw for mentions/'threats' of extreme violence/death, don't like don't read.

"I could kill you," Venom grunts, not a threat but an observation, "I kill lots of people."

Your face pinches down into a grimace but the waver in your voice isn't from the imagery, "Venom, no, don't- don't say that! I don't want to know."

His viscous appendages, more tentacle than hand, edge deeper into your hole, filling in every inch of space and unconstrained by defined mortal flesh. A web of the black goopy substance holds you against an empty wall in Eddie's apartment, pinning your back to the brick and scraping your skin.

"But you liked hearing me tell you," The symbiote practically purrs, his voice gravelly and miles away from the safety of human baritone, "Your hole got tighter around me when I said it."

"No, it- I don't like- no!" You gush, unable to defend yourself but desperate to save face, "That's not true."

"It is," Venom presses, another stray tendril suctioning to the curve of your ass and leaving burning skin in its wake, "I will do it again. I am stronger than you."

As a testament to his statement, he expands the web of black fluid that's holding you against the wall, forcing it around your neck like a snug sleeve. He's right; you can't move. Of course you'd known it since the first time you laid eyes on the alien, but the effortless proof he offers you has your hole fluttering around his tendril once more.

"I could smother you," Venom continues, and you feel a distinct throb between your legs, his makeshift dick only seeping further into you, "I could flood your lungs and drown you," He threatens, the slime crawling up around your chin and mouth, hovering teasingly over your nose as you frantically gasp through it, "I could squeeze you until each of your bones break and you are helpless."

You do more than clench around him. The acrid stab of fear in your chest couples with the rising swell of bliss below it, and you wriggle your hips pathetically in his strong grip as you ride out your orgasm on his tentacle.

"I was right," Venom concludes, far from human niceties, though he still suspends you against the wall as your limbs sag with exhaustion, "You want me to kill you."

"No, Venom," You swear, though you don't have the energy to be as alarmed as you should be, "I- I don't want you to kill me. It's just- sometimes I think it's hot to remember that you could."

Milky white eyes blink at you, once, twice, and Venom decides, "I do not understand humans."

But you're saved the effort of explaining yourself when he draws his tendril out of your sensitive hole, letting his obscenely long tongue draw your wetness into his mouth, "But if you think it is hot, I will not let you forget that I could crush you."

[gaybatmanenthusiast]

heeey, can i req arthur morgan

THE ARTIST, AND THE OUTLAW (oneshot)

(ARTHUR MORGAN X GN! READER)

⋆★ word count : 1,112

⋆★ warnings : n/a

⋆★ summary : arthur meets the reader sketching the landscape, intrigued by their talent and he approaches them, asking for a portrait of someone important to him.

⋆★ extra : wrote this with a friend in mind once again, praying shes the one that requested this orrr someone has been waiting for their request for a hot minute …

Arthur hadn’t expected to see anyone out here, let alone someone so intently focused on sketching the open plains. He paused, just watching for a moment, leaning against his horse as the sun dipped low over the distant hills, casting warm light across the land and across the lone figure on the ledge.

The artist—a stranger whose name he didn’t know—hadn’t noticed him yet. They were too absorbed in capturing the scene before them, their hand working swiftly over a sketchbook balanced on their knee. From his distance, Arthur could barely make out their features, but he didn’t need to. It was the energy in their movements, the quiet reverence in how they observed the landscape, that held his attention.

Finally, he cleared his throat and took a few steps closer, boots scuffing over the dry earth. “Hope I ain’t interruptin’ anything important,” he called, voice rough but softened by curiosity.

They looked up, blinking in surprise, though they didn’t seem startled. Instead, they offered a slight smile, as if strangers showing up in the middle of nowhere was just part of the day. “Not interrupting. Just trying to get the light right,” they replied, glancing back at the scene before them with a quiet determination.

Arthur nodded, a little more intrigued. “S’pose you come out here often?”

“Anywhere I can find something worth sketching,” they replied, holding up the book as if it answered everything. “There’s just… too much beauty out here to let it pass by unrecorded.”

Arthur studied their sketch from a distance. Though it was unfinished, he could already see the skill behind it—the way they captured shadows and the contours of the land with a precision that felt both raw and alive. The sight stirred something in him, an odd mixture of nostalgia and longing he hadn’t expected.

“Mind if I take a look?” he asked, nodding toward the book.

They hesitated only a moment, then passed it over. Arthur took it gently, scanning the pages. There were sketches of wildlife, mountain ranges, campfires, and even little moments—a flower caught in the breeze, a lone bird perched on a fence post. Each drawing held an attentiveness that felt almost sacred.

“You got a way with things,” he murmured, still focused on the pages. “Ain’t many folks out here would even notice half of what you put down.”

They shrugged, though there was a flicker of pride in their eyes. “Guess I like to see the world for what it is, not just what people want it to be.”

He nodded slowly, feeling the weight of their words settle in his mind. For a while, they sat in a comfortable silence, he by his horse, and they back to their sketching. Arthur watched, noting the way they glanced up every now and then, catching little details with an intensity he envied. It was as if they saw the world through a different lens, one that softened the rough edges he was so used to.

After a while, he found himself speaking up again. “You, uh… ever think about doin’ a portrait? You got the skill for it.”

They glanced over, brow raised in mild curiosity. “I’ve done a few, but it depends on the person.” Their eyes lingered on him, considering. “Why? Got someone in mind?”

Arthur shifted, uncertain for a moment. “Yeah… my ma, actually. She’s been gone a long time, but… you got a way of makin’ things feel alive.” He almost regretted the admission, but the words had come unbidden.

The artist’s expression softened, a gentle understanding in their gaze. “I’d be honoured,” they said quietly. “Tell me about her.”

He hesitated, caught off-guard by the tenderness in their tone. But as the words spilled out, he found himself recounting little things he hadn’t thought of in years—the sound of his mother’s laugh, the kindness in her eyes, the way she’d held him close when he was small and scared. The artist listened, not interrupting, letting him speak in his own time. And when he was finished, they simply nodded, already starting to sketch.

Over the following days, Arthur returned to the spot by the ledge, finding them there nearly every afternoon, waiting patiently with sketchbook in hand. With each meeting, they asked small questions, drawing more stories from him, little by little. He spoke about his ma, then his old life before the gang, and even the first time he’d ridden a horse on his own. Each story felt like an offering, as if he were putting pieces of himself down on paper through their hands.

As he spoke, he started asking about their life, too—where they’d come from, what had brought them to this place. They answered with quiet honesty, sharing tales of a life spent moving from place to place, driven not by restlessness but by a love for the land and the people within it. They talked about the way different skies looked at dawn, about quiet moments in bustling towns, about the simple peace that came from just sitting under an open sky.

Arthur began to see the world differently through them. The mountains seemed taller, the rivers gentler, and even the dusty roads they walked on felt more alive. For the first time, he wondered if there might be more to his own story than just the guns and blood he’d left in his wake.

One evening, as they were finishing up the day’s work, they turned to him, a small, contemplative smile on their lips. “Arthur… you ever think about what you’ll leave behind?”

He blinked, surprised. “Ain’t never thought much of it.”

“Well,” they said softly, looking down at the nearly completed portrait. “Even outlaws deserve to be remembered for more than just the dust they kick up.”

Their words struck a chord, one he hadn’t expected to feel. There was an ache in his chest, something that felt like hope, and it unsettled him. But as he looked at them, at the quiet sincerity in their gaze, he felt that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth holding onto.

They reached out, a light touch on his hand, fingers brushing his calloused knuckles. The gesture was simple, yet it felt electric, a silent promise that there was more to life than he’d known. He held their gaze, feeling the faint stirrings of something unfamiliar, something that felt like warmth and light all at once.

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice rough, barely audible. And in the quiet that followed, they just smiled, a hint of something fond and knowing in their expression—a look that told him they saw him, the real him, and they still cared.

[khristie16]

Your daddy Carlos paid for your visit to Paris as a birthday present for you and in order to make it better, he travels to you to show a side of himself not many people know

Warnings: just sweet asf

Based on this request ^^ : Meow

I’ll pick you up at seven at your place;)

You just were at your solo trip to Paris to explore the city you’ve always wanted since you were a kid. And today you were supposed to see your boyfriend. Just last week you had your birthday and Carlos made you decide on what you wanted for the gift. You liked jewelry and beautiful piece of clothes but you were really feeling to go travelling instead and that is why you’re right now in a fancy hotel at 15 place Vendôme.

Carlos wanted to spend your birthday with you and had a nice plan to visit you on your last two days to enjoy the time together.

You’ve put the last pieces to your fabulous outfit and waited for Carlos to arrive, already excited about what he planned for the two of you. You cannot wait much longer to see his beautiful big brown eyes and get lost in the warmth of them, as now when you finally meeting him in front of his car waiting for you. You kissed softly as he had a hold on you laying his hand on your waist to keep you close to him. You chuckled at his actions scratching your nails on the back of his neck. He groaned in response and closed his eyes.

“I missed you”

You smile and plant a kiss on his right cheek.

“Me too”

Smile was the first thing he saw after opening his eyes again and the light sparkled in them it warmed your heart.

“Let’s go”

Carlos opened the doors for you to hop in and be excited about what’s to come.

After few minutes the engine turned down and it made you wonder why you’re stopping. You turned your head to your handsome boyfriend to get some answers.

He was already smiling. “We’re here already”

The air outside was getting colder with each passing second as it was early spring. You hugged your arms and looked around. The moment you realised where he took you, he was already reading your mind and responding to you.

“I hope you haven’t been there yet?”

You shook your head with a smile on your lit up face.

Goosebumps on your skin disappeared the minute you went inside and walked together through the security X-ray.

“I didn’t know you liked art?”

A soft smile on his face and eyes on the floor signalled you it was not something he talks about much and your curiosity with this fact only grew. He had to chuckle to see you that way because he loved your curious nature.

“I’ve actually studied Art History back in home”

Your mouth fell open as you couldn’t put Carlos and Art together, but you closed it as soon as it opened so he doesn’t feel bad he told you. He just shook his head and shrugged.

“Let me show it to you my way”

Light beautiful decorations all around the space you two were right now standing in made you feel like you’re breathing a different type of air in here and lift you up with a different energy you immediately sensed all the possible symbolisms and meaning displayed on the canvas.

“That’s Luig Loir”

He nodded towards the painting on his right.

“Loir was a master of capturing everyday scenes with a touch of enchantment. Notice how his use of vibrant colors and soft brushstrokes brings life to the bustling streets and tranquil landscapes.”

You take a look properly on the painting and try to concentrate on those colors and contrast they give. You tilt your head slightly to see more.

“Do you like it?”

He suddenly asked you which made you frown and wonder where the urgency came from. When you looked at him you saw a slight worry on his face.

“Y-yes of course! It’s a masterpiece.”

You’ve heard a light sigh left his lips and his composure relaxed a bit.

“Whether it's a bustling Parisian street corner or a peaceful countryside vista, his attention to detail draws you into it and you can see how effortlessly he worked with lights and shadows”

You cannot hold back yourself to observe Carlos instead because you’ve never seen him like this. It made you feel intrigued?

“Does it make you feel anything ?”

Answer came to your conscious as you narrowed your eyes some more back on the painting.

“It all look so slow and simple. I feel kinda nostalgic to be honest.”

With the last words you snapped to him as if waiting to be corrected from your teacher. He smirked a little and nodded. You felt immense sense of pride filling your veins and you had to blush for yourself. Damn this guy is so much more than he let you know.

“In essence, Luig Loir's style can be described as a harmonious blend of realism and romanticism, capturing the beauty and charm of everyday life with a touch of poetic flair.”

His warm eyes landed on yours with a serious undertone.

“That’s why I like you. You’re like a piece from this old man. Real yet charming as the fairytale itself”

His broad shoulders were now facing you and closing the distance between the two of you. His hands cupped your face. Your eyes on contrary were wide open with so much admiration for this man and for the way he makes you feel. The presence of his eyes on your lips made you lick them.

“No, baby”

Frown appeared on your face, searching for answers in his warm eyes.

“If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

You bite your lower lip because you’re a brat that likes to play with your daddy Carlos. And he loves it. His low groan and amusement in his voice made you melt and wetter by the passing second as his scent filled your nostrils and let your imagination run wild as all those paintings here.