#This became way longer than I thought it would be

[davinawritings]

An Alien Thank You

Pairing: Alien X Female Human Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral (Female Receiving), Multiple Tongues, Squirting

You had never thought aliens were real until one appeared in your backyard. When it happened, you had only been in your new home for about a month. As a writer, you had moved to a small, secluded house in the countryside for some peace and quiet while working. Other than the bi-monthly trips to the food market, you were completely alone with your work and thoughts.

The day had started like any other. You had made breakfast, showered, and even got in a few hours of writing. Suddenly, there was a noise outside your office window. Upon looking, you had seen nothing and waved it off, but moments later, you heard it again. No longer able to ignore it, you had gone out back to see what it was. 

Imagine your shock when a massive creature stood in your backyard, poking around your garden. The creature stood about eleven feet tall and was a dark blue, almost black. Its chest was broad, double the length of your shoulders, and seemed packed with hard muscle. Its shoulders had sharp ridges that nearly looked like thick scales. Its thick thighs had similar ridged scales along the outside. Strong arms lead down to large hands that look terrifying with their sharp nails. The creature’s head was all sharp angles, and its eyes were solid black as they stared at you. 

The scream had been stuck in your throat, but the creature must have seen the panic on your face because it quickly held up its hands and claimed that it meant no harm. You still kept your distance as the creature explained that he was not of your planet but was currently stuck on earth while working out how to build a way home.

You had taken pity on the creature and, against what most would consider better judgment, had decided not to freak out and instead befriend the large creature. You learned his name was Oltuth, and he came from a planet you had never heard of. He was traveling and exploring when his ship malfunctioned and crashed a few miles from your secluded home. Your house was the first place he had come upon that wasn’t just open land, so he had been looking for sustenance in your garden.

You knew you probably shouldn’t invite some strange alien creature into your home, but you felt bad for him, and you couldn’t deny that it was kind of nice to have someone to talk to. You also knew that most people would probably just attack Oltuth without hesitation if they found him, so you offered him refuge in your home under the promise of him being peaceful and kind. He quickly promised, and you were very glad he did.

He became a great help around your house and an even better friend. He helped you around the house and with your now flourishing garden. You both built a routine together while you worked on your book, and he worked on a way to rebuild and repair his ship. The days passed much faster with him to talk to, and before you knew it, months had passed. You both grew closer, and you grew almost sad when you thought about him eventually leaving you to return home. 

Today had gone like any other with Oltuth, and you now sat with a nice cold glass of sweet tea, simply enjoying the late-night sky full of stars while you both talked about the different ways of your species. 

Oltuth clears his throat before he says, “I would like to thank you for the kindness and generosity you have shown me these past few months. If you are okay with it, I would like to show you how the males of my planet thank our females for caring for us the way you have for me”. Excited to learn something new about his species; you quickly agree with an enthusiastic, “Yes.” 

He grabs your smaller hand in his own and brings you inside to the couch. He gently guides you to sit, your butt on the edge of the sofa. Your breath hitches as Oltuth moves his large body between your legs, gently prying your legs open. He kneels before you, gently removing your shorts along with your panties. His long, pointed tongue starts gently lapping at your clit as soft mewls leave your mouth. His jet-black eyes stay trained on your face as you wriggle on the couch. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter as he shifts his tongue into your wet hole. The thickness makes you moan as he licks along your inner walls. You lay back against the cushions, hips thrusting against his face as you slowly feel that beautiful high building. Without warning, you feel something wet, flicking against your swollen clit. Your eyes snap open, and you look down. His large tongue is still buried deep in your cunt, but another slightly smaller tongue is now playing with your needy clit.

You whimper and moan out his name at the double stimulation, tears gathering in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling. The tip of his tongue flicks along that special spot deep inside you, and you try to close your legs on reflex. Oltuth growls and pulls your thighs further apart, speeding up both of his tongues. 

Your knuckles turn white as your grip tightens on the couch. The tongue inside you practically vibrates with how fast it’s thrusting inside your dripping cunt. Your back arches as the smaller tongue moves to match the speed and vibrations of his bigger tongue. 

You look down again to find Oltuth staring right at you, and with one more thrust, you cum hard, clenching on his tongue, your juices squirting out of you as a scream is ripped from your body. Each clench of your cunt is met with another thrust from him, making your orgasm feel like it lasts for hours. He finally slows down as your legs twitch in his hands, giving you a few final licks to clean you up.

He stands before picking you up and bringing you to your room to lay you on the bed. You give him a smile and say, “I really like how your males say thank you, Oltuth.” He gives you a grin before saying, “That was just to get you ready for the real way we say thank you.” Your eyes widen as you look down at his body. A slit at the apex between his thighs opens as three large cocks extend out, one by one, each a little bigger than the last. 

Your eyes flick back up to his face, and all you can think is that your next book is definitely going to be a smutty alien romance story.

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

[gf2bellamy]

ouugh. post prison Spencer and reader who he was already dating pre prison... after he gets out he's afraid he's not good enough for r anymore because he did what he had to do in prison... oughh.. and he starts pulling away from r and they reassure him that he did nothing wrong and they still love him no matter what...

just a thought since i saw ur post about post prison Spencer :)

no pressure to write anything based on this i just wanted to share my thought!!

-🪲

changed — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer distancing himself from reader , kind of emotional a/n: hiii !!i hope this is what you asked for !!

You weren’t entirely sure what to do anymore.

Spencer had been pulling away from you, and it was breaking your heart piece by piece.

At first, you told yourself it was normal—an expected reaction to the months he had spent in prison. The trauma of that experience was something you couldn’t fully understand, but you had tried to be patient, to give him the space and support he needed to heal.

The first few days after his release had been okay—better than okay, even.

Spencer had clung to you like you were his lifeline, hugging you tightly at random moments, his face buried in your shoulder as he whispered how much he had missed you, how much he loved you.

Those moments had been bittersweet, filled with relief that he was finally home. You had held him just as tightly, trying to reassure him that he was safe now, that you were here and you weren’t going anywhere. 

But then, slowly, things began to change. It was subtle at first, so subtle that you almost convinced yourself you were imagining it.

Spencer’s hugs became shorter, less frequent. He started talking about himself in ways that made your chest tighten—little comments here and there that were tinged with self-doubt, as if he didn’t believe he deserved the life he had come back to. 

“I don’t know why you even waited for me,” he had muttered one evening, his voice quiet. You had tried to reassure him, but you weren't sure if you had been successful.

At night, it took him longer to come to bed. He would linger in the living room, staring at nothing, or sit at the kitchen table with a book he wasn’t really reading. When he finally did join you, he would lie stiffly on his side of the bed, as if he were afraid to touch you.

And then there were the looks. You’d catch him watching you sometimes, his gaze distant and unfocused, his eyes holding a sadness that made your chest ache.But the moment he realized you had noticed, he would look away, his expression shuttering as if he were trying to hide something from you.

It was those moments that hurt the most—the way he seemed to retreat into himself, as if he didn’t believe he deserved to be close to you anymore. 

One day, the two of you were sitting on the couch, the TV playing some documentary Spencer had chosen but neither of you were really paying attention to.

You were tired and without thinking, you leaned your head against his shoulder. It was a small gesture, something you’d done a hundred times before, but this time, you felt him stiffen slightly under your touch. 

You pulled back immediately, your stomach twisting.

The reaction was small, barely noticeable to anyone else—but to you, it might as well have been a knife to the chest.

You reached over his lap to grab the remote from his side, your movements quick and a little clumsy, and turned off the TV. The sudden silence in the room felt heavy, almost suffocating. You turned to face Spencer, who looked at you with a slightly surprised expression, his eyebrows furrowed. 

For a moment, you just stared at him, your eyes searching his. And then you saw it again—that distant, sad look in his eyes, the one he always tried to hide from you.

It was like a dam breaking inside you, all the worry and frustration and love you’d been holding back spilling out at once. 

 “We need to talk,” you mumbled as you turned your body more toward him, tucking one leg under you so you could face him fully. 

Spencer blinked, his expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded.

“About what?” he asked, his tone careful, almost hesitant. As he spoke, he pulled his legs slightly away, creating more space between you so that your knees weren’t touching anymore. 

Your heart cracked.

You pointed at the space he had just created, your hand trembling slightly. “That,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This. Everything. Are you okay?” 

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and loaded. Spencer didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket draped over the couch.

His silence only made your chest tighten more, the worry you’d been carrying for weeks bubbling to the surface. 

“Spencer,” you said gently, reaching out to touch his arm. He didn’t pull away this time, but he didn’t look at you either. “Please talk to me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” 

He let out a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. 

“Do what?” you asked, your voice soft but insistent, your eyes searching his for answers you desperately needed. 

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His hand dropped limply to his lap, and he let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping.

“Us. I… I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be anymore.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he brushed a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion and guilt that seemed to cling to him. 

You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him that he was exactly who you needed, but he kept talking, his words spilling out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them back for too long.

“You just… you need someone—” He paused, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right word. “Better. Someone who didn’t do the things I did, who isn’t… me.” His voice was barely above a whisper now, his eyes fixed on his hands as they twisted nervously in his lap. 

Your heart ached at his words, at the way he spoke about himself. “Spencer—” you started, but he cut you off, his voice trembling as he finally met your eyes. 

“I love you,” he said, the words raw and filled with so much emotion it made your chest tighten. “Too much,” he added, his voice breaking. “But I’m not the same anymore. I don’t know how to be the person I was before, and I don’t know if I can ever be that person again.” 

Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to him, your heart breaking for the man you loved more than anything.

“Spencer,” you said, your voice steady despite the tear that slipped down your cheek. “You don’t have to be the person you were before. You just have to be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He shook his head, his eyes filled with doubt. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I’m not… I’m not good for you anymore. I’m not the person you fell in love with.” 

“Yes, you are,” you said fiercely, your voice rising slightly as you leaned closer to him. “You’re still Spencer Reid. You’re still the man who loves me, who makes me laugh, who knows more random facts than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re still the man who held me together when I fell apart, who stayed by my side no matter what. You’re still you, Spencer. And I love you. Not who you were, not who you think you should be. Just you.” 

He stared at you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. And then, slowly, he reached out, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be okay again.” 

“You don’t have to fix it alone,” you said, your voice shaky. “We’ll figure it out together. That’s what we do, remember? We’re a team.” 

Spencer’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to find the truth in your words.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. 

“Yes, you do,” you said firmly, your hands cupping his face. “You always have.” 

You pulled him into a hug, holding him tightly as if you could somehow transfer all the love and reassurance you felt into him. And for the first time in weeks, he hugged you back just as tightly, his face buried in your shoulder as he let out a shaky breath. 

[22ayla21]

can i request amphoreus males react to short reader wield a big sword ( their first impression on reader is that they are weak )

First Meeting

The reaction of the Amphoreus men to their first meeting with a 62.2 inch tall girl with a huge sword on her back.

She was... tiny. Well, at least for a man who was used to seeing warriors around him whose size inspired respect. And this one - only 62.2 inches. And with a sword that was clearly too big for her.

He crossed his arms over his chest, assessing her with a reserved gaze.

- And you are going to fight this? - his lips twitched in a smirk, but there was genuine doubt in his voice. The woman did not react to his tone in any way. She did not throw him an angry look, did not flare up with indignation. Instead, she simply grabbed the sword more comfortably, slightly shifted her weight to one leg ... and without warning, made a sharp lunge.

Mydei barely managed to move to the side when the blade flew past his face an inch away.

Too fast. Too precise. His smile slowly faded.

She stopped, holding the sword at the level of his neck, and for the first time looked him straight in the eyes. There was no challenge or mockery in her gaze. Only cold confidence in her own strength.

- Do you think I'm weak? - she asked calmly.

Mydei was silent. And then... he grinned.

He became interested.

When Anaxa first saw her, he was... disappointed.

Here stood a girl, barely taller than his shoulder, with a sword so huge that it could have been mistaken for decoration. He thought there must be some mistake - she couldn't really wield such a weapon, could she? Most likely, she was just carrying it for effect. At best, she was hiding some clever trick behind that blade; at worst, she was another overconfident traveler who would soon realize her helplessness.

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her coldly, almost mockingly.

- That weapon is not for your height.

But as soon as the first fight began, his skepticism quickly dissipated.

She moved quickly, but with a precision that even he had not expected. Her blows were heavy and precise, and her balance was perfect. There was a power in every movement, hidden behind the small exterior.

Anaxa watched the fight with a frown, analyzing her every move. Somewhere in the back of his mind he already knew: he would have to revise his first impression.

Phainon had never been one to judge anyone in advance, but… She looked like a weakling.

Fragile, petite – only 62.2 inches tall, and in her hands she held a sword that clearly weighed as much as she did. It seemed that one careless movement – and the weapon would simply drag her along with it, knocking her to the ground. He even involuntarily frowned, watching how she held it.

How could someone with such a build be a real warrior?

But as soon as she moved – his skepticism crumbled to dust.

Her movements were precise, polished, without the slightest hesitation. No hint of awkwardness, no weakness – just pure technique and confidence in every blow. Suddenly her height no longer seemed like a disadvantage: she was fast, agile, knew how to use her size to her advantage.

Phainon watched in silence as she handled the sword, deftly dodging the enemy's blows. Just a moment ago he had doubted her - now he could hardly tear his eyes away.

He felt a slight smile on his lips.

- So, she is not a weakling after all.

[devnmon]

undoing heat

Summary: Astarion feeds from you the first time and finds himself aroused. What he doesn't know is if you feel the same.

warnings: porn with plot and A LOT of feelings, blood drinking during sex, vampire feeding, grinding, needy, touch starved astarion, piv sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, bj, oral (r!receiving), fingering

a/n: listen. i could’ve made this nice and short but you all know me. can never be normal about This Guy ever. so have fun chowing down on the absolute meal of a fic i’ve cooked up for you all. enjoy mwah (also big big kiss on the forehead to my lovely moots @clericblood n @tillysketch n @bodythieves for all their pre reading n helpful editing they did. i love u <3 )

word count: 12.6k

A vampire feeding from one’s neck is intimate.

It becomes a degree hotter when it’s Astarion doing so.

—

Cold.

For many years, all Astarion had felt was an absence. One that could never be filled.

But warmth… that was something he’d longed for.

Beams of light from the sun, an embrace, a fire crackling before him. All these aspects of life he imagined would never be within his grasp again. Replication of any such gratification was far fetched. A myth, something he would never truly see again.

Then, the tadpoles, the mind flayer ship, and you.

Since the abduction, he’d been in a state less desirable and more disoriented than ever. Weakened from lack of blood— or the deprivation of it. For the first time in two centuries, he had a chance to find something different. 

Astarion has since lost track of the last time he’s had the sun on his skin and been able to freely roam under its blessing light. Vampiric ways of undead life never granted him such a thing.

Once he met you, everything changed.

The many fights that stood ahead of him along with a merry band of companions compiled by fate itself meant that kobolds and boars would no longer suffice. Thus came the shame of wanting to taste that crimson liquid running hot right under your skin.

Catching him staring at your neck was the first hint of his vampirism, the red eyes and fangs moreso a quite literal dead giveaway. He thought himself clever trying to keep that part of himself hidden. But you knew better. 

The first time he fed on you was very special, not only for him, but you as well. To even have the trust in him after you caught the elf trying to steal a nip from your neck while you slept opened his eyes to what kind person you truly were.

Willing to share a part of your life force so he could become stronger, that did a number on him drastically. It warmed his heart the same way it was physically; a spark in the dark, a flickering that soon burned to a roar.

Astarion is lucky in more ways than one to have someone willing to give him blood for no reason other than you wanted to. To find him- a vampire- worthy of something so personal, built an undeserving ache in his chest. 

You could’ve mistaken him for a cougar that hadn’t eaten in days by the way he was zoning out. His eyes dropped to the rapid pulsing of your jugular, so lidded he was almost drooling at the sight. 

Thanks to you, Astarion’s sanguine hunger had been satisfied for the first time in two centuries. Not only that, but the warmth it granted him, down his throat and in the tips of his fingers was so gratifying it had almost made him cry. 

At first surge over his tongue, it traveled through his system faster than light. Eventually coating his teeth, dripping down the sides of his mouth, transiting through every vein to warm his frigid body. 

Tasting it – mortal blood for the first time brought a tear to his eye the second it spread selfishly across his tongue. Each time it soared over his taste buds filled him more than the last, all his strength devoted to reining in the hunger most of all.

He had no words for how consuming it became, only satiating to the selfish desire of getting lost in it. For a split second he was there, floating in an ever so perfect ecstasy, falling deeper and deeper into its embrace. 

Your blood fulfills what he’s tried to do for years with animals. To be his first… he can’t believe you’ve offered yourself to him in such a way.

He’s buzzing as your blood – as you course through him.

Succulent, warm and thick, he forces himself to back off before getting lost in your taste.

“Ah! That- that was amazing.” His words are breathless from the taste of you, almost slurring against the warm slide down his throat. 

You watch as he stands, the sound he makes swallowing a depraved one. He almost looks about ready to lean in for another drink, eyes widening for a moment before focusing on you again. 

“My mind is finally clear. I feel strong. I feel… happy.” 

Happy he was, the blood going straight to his head… and other parts of him. 

One drop hadn’t made it past his lips, swiping it away on his finger. You stare up at him while he stands, weakened from the loss of blood and open wounds on your neck. Afraid the image of him savoring your blood would make your knees falter, you remain sat. 

Even with his pale complexion, he was beaming— glowing in the moonlight. An exceptionally good look on him.

“I look forward to seeing you fight, Astarion.” 

“With you by my side, it shouldn't take long at all.” he says with a wink, curtsying as he continues, “Now if you’ll excuse me, you’re invigorating, but I need something more filling.” 

As he turns toward the outskirts of camp, he pauses and turns back, sincerity filling his wine colored eyes when he speaks again.

“This is a gift you know, I won’t forget it.”

–

Immediately after draining a small animal, he’d noticed the lack of what mortal blood gave him; a rush so intoxicating. How long he’d survived in this world while missing out on such a thing, he would never know. 

Astarion gets overwhelmingly drunk off it all, a sensation he’s never gotten the privilege of exploring. To put it lightly, the man was overly sensitive and even the slightest touch across his chest sent his cock throbbing.

He’s not sure the last time he’s felt this type of arousal, not even sure of the last time he’s welcomed it. But he is aware of how much he wants to run his hands all over your body with his fangs in your neck. It makes him feel dirty, thinking of you in that way when all you’d done was give him a drink from your vein. 

He dotes on the image of you squirming under his touch a bit too long. Perhaps it was the blood talking, but accepting the image of you with your hands on his waist or anywhere else on his body makes a shiver run through him. For the first time it’s not out of frigidness, but one so invigorating he finds his eyes closed in sheer enjoyment. 

Astarion is warm all over, moreso from your blood he’s drank rather than the animals that helped satiate his hunger for the night. Thinking about the red liquid dripping from your neck when he pulled away– gods, the image was enough to make his vision hazy. He wasn’t aware of the raging hard on he’d gained from drinking something as luscious as your essence. It had never happened before when feeding on animals, but clearly this type was different. 

Was all mortal blood this potent? Would Astarion find the same hypnotisable taste in any of his other companions? Or was it you that was already affecting him in more ways than one that drinking your blood magnified? 

Either way, there was no containing it for the moment. What was he to do otherwise, walk into camp with a raging hard on? No, the embarrassment if someone– if you saw– might literally kill him. Better to sort it out in privacy while he still had some. 

Astarion freed his erection, dumbfounded at its warmth in his hand. Granted, he had not indulged in this sort of pleasure since… forever, it seems. The first full stroke down his length, he almost moaned too loudly, fingers gripping at the ruffles of his shirt, bottom lip caught between his pearlescent teeth. 

He was a sight, if you could’ve seen him then. Beads of sweat on his forehead, fangs glowing in the moonlight, cheeks pinked up just the slightest with how much he’s yearned for this sensation again. The elf’s high peaks quite fast, breath quickening as he attempted to stay quiet. 

Though he tries to picture anything else, the only image floating around behind his eyes is one of you. Your natural scent of sweetness, that pulsing jugular of yours, the kind hand you outreach towards all who need it. An inch further, just imagining your lips on his, is what brings him over the edge. 

 He’s not sure whether to feel relief or guilt when he spills over in his hand with a shudder. Once he steadies himself and cleans up, he’s quick to walk off as if nothing had occurred. How his mind and body ached upon his walk back into camp, observing you all tucked away in your separate corners of camp for the night. 

Astarion would just have to push down his guilt and hope to the gods it wouldn’t bother him in the days to come. 

–

Most nights afterwards were spent getting a control on the high your blood put him on. His first time though– had his body tingling in every possible way. Mortals truly underestimate the power that crimson liquid has over his kind. Astarion did not choose to spend two centuries draining animals. When the opportunity presented itself to him, truth be told he was a little nervous as to how he’d react. 

Your blood ran through his veins like lightning. Warming. Shockingly filling for once in his life. It’s up in his gums, behind his eyes, in the very essence of his being.

That night he realized how lucky he is for fate to have brought you to him. For you to trust him not to kill you upon his first taste of it. He’s elated, relieved, and knows for the first time, that he truly has someone who trusts him for the person he is. Not the vampire he happens to be.

He’s quite doting when he checks on you the next morning— a gesture that warms not only your heart, but your cheeks as well. You’ve never heard of his kind to be so concerned towards where their source of blood came from. A regular vampire would have taken what they wanted without care. 

But then again, he wasn’t so regular, was he?

“Good morning. How do you feel?”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to dart across your entire figure, looking for any sign of your current state. 

“I’m fine, I just feel a little woozy.”

“It’ll pass. I’m so glad last night didn’t end badly. I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, though. Your blood was… so filling.”

“End badly? Wait… have you never fed on a human before?"

“Well, yes… We needn’t get into the gritty details as to why right now. I’ve had this condition for two centuries, but truth be told? You were my first.”

The vampire almost presented bashful when admitting this to you, as if it were a secret he’d never spoken aloud. 

“Wow, I’m not sure whether to be surprised or impressed to still be standing.” 

"I fed on animals for the better part of two centuries. Rats, cats, boars, kobolds... anything and everything except mortals. Since drinking from you, I feel at my best for the first time in my life. Apologies again, I should have told you about what I am.”

“If you needed blood, all you had to do was ask.” 

“I- Really?” 

You nodded. 

“I’ll let you have my blood. But only if I come to you first. Alright?”

“Of course, you needn’t say any more. Thank you.”

“Like you said, blood makes you strong. We’re going to need that on the road ahead, wherever it takes us. Have you got my back?”

“Always, my dear. Lead on.” 

–

It took an enormous amount of strength for him to resist his bloodlust turning to a feeding frenzy, even when he was consuming animals. But the ecstasy that came with mortal blood, especially for the first time, was more overtaking than he thought.

Apparently it had awoken another feral part of him. He’d savor your taste, reminisce about it whilst alone at night. Not only did it go to his head, but it focused him like nothing else. So much so that he can’t think of anything except you. Any attempt to keep his eyes off your jugular resulted in something much too overwhelming entering his system. Thus, when he wasn’t out on the road with you, his nose was stuffed in a book to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. 

Many more nights passed with you suffering a woozy morning as if you’d drank one too many glasses of wine. Luckily, a certain druid had joined your party with just the spell to cure you of the disadvantages your bloodlessness came with. 

Astarion noted the way you immediately trailed over to Halsin’s tent in camp the mornings after he fed, almost letting jealousy creep over his shoulder. Once he found you were only doing so to keep a level head on the road, that pinch of guilt became harder to push away. Not just its surge as if he was taking advantage of you, but the notion of something more stirring inside him when he tasted your blood. 

Was it only that you deserved more than what he was asking of you? Or perhaps the appreciation that at least one person in his life cared about how he was doing after so long of being disregarded in that manner? 

When a particularly rough battle left you all drenched in blood and limping back to camp, Astarion was hesitant to reply enthusiastically about feeding on you that night. He’d done so for the better part of all the past nights since his first time. 

You only stared at him, reluctantly confused that he said no. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m using you just for your blood. You’ve been kind to give me anything thus far. I’m grateful for it but… you don’t deserve me taking something so personal as that without anything in return.” 

“So, you don’t want to feed from me anymore?” 

If it weren’t for him being so godsdamned caring and sweet towards you right now, he would’ve picked up the hint of disappointment in your voice. 

“No– gods, no. I wouldn’t be here today without your generosity,” Astarion places his hand on your shoulder, “I’ve just… grown fond of you, and it would be wrong for me to continue taking advantage of how kind you are for my personal benefit. I want you to know I mean that and, well, you deserve something more for what you do for me.” 

His hand leaves your shoulder, the warmth of your body already infecting his ability to think straight while his gaze averts to your neck. 

“Astarion… I wouldn’t be giving you my blood if you didn’t need it. It makes me glad to have you by my side through all of this. If I have to bug Halsin every morning to cure me with a spell, then that’s a sacrifice I’ll make for you. Besides…” You trail off, noticing his eyes have left your face and are now locked on your neck. “Astarion!” 

“Wh-What? I’m sorry… It's been such a long day. What were you saying?” His hand scratches the back of his head nervously. 

“I was saying that what I do for you isn’t because I pity you or some other reason you may have thought up. You’re not forcing me to do anything I don’t want. But, if you’re sure about this, I won’t stop you from hunting for animals tonight. If that’s what you really want.” 

“Well, I don’t want to drink from animals. Their fur gets stuck in my teeth and it tastes awful. Your blood is much more filling,” he states, ignoring the way his chest heats up, “But today has beaten all of us down a peg and I think your neck could use the break. Wouldn’t want a bruise to tarnish your skin. Gods forbid. I’d never forgive myself. What I’m saying is I don’t have to feed from you every night, even though you generously offer it to me.” 

“If you insist… you know where to find me if you change your mind.” You replied, sighing lightly. 

“Indeed I do, darling. See you in the morning.” He bids you farewell with a wave and stalks off into the forest, the usual swagger in his walk making it even harder for your eyes to turn away. The way his tongue curls around the words he speaks throws your mind into a frenzy, wondering what it would be like with his tongue curled around something of yours. 

Astarion had been lucky enough to drink from you the past couple weeks on the road, dissatisfied at how much more hungry he felt after two small creatures. 

Gods, how much more is it going to take to be full again?”

About three animals for him to have the same fullness when drinking from you, but nothing compared to the warmth of your body. That was something he knew could never be replicated, you radiating a forge’s level of heat below him. Though perhaps it was only because he’d been deprived of such for so long. 

Resting against the log of a tree, he took a moment to catch his breath before the blood he'd ingested traveled south. Even when he wasn’t drinking from your neck, his mind went to you nonstop. Innocent thoughts like ones by your side during battle turned to reminiscing about how your body reacted to him when his mouth was against your neck. 

He wasn’t aware of it at first, too caught up in the less than satisfying taste spreading across his tongue. As the nights continued with him feeding from you, Astarion became more aware of your heartbeat pounding significantly faster whenever he neared you in proximity, how your breath shuddered upon his fangs in your neck. Of course you were nervous, what else was he to expect? To welcome some red eyed, pale skinned creature jamming its fangs into your jugular nearly every night without dismay?

Astarion tried his best not to ponder how your blood tasted, rich and succulent when flowing across his tongue, on his lips, down his throat. Unfortunately for him, the more he tried to push those thoughts away, the more you’d wriggle your way into his brain. He had missed his nightly taste of it, how much more full he became after a few sips rather than having to kill a few helpless small animals to even get close to how you made him feel. 

Your scent, your blood, you. 

Once again growing hard under his trousers to the point of frustration, pulling himself out in the cool air. It’s so unsatisfying to feel warmth under his skin that wasn’t from you. Not in the one simple way that got him high faster than light. Especially not when your blood shot through him, lingering at best and he couldn’t take how less buzzed he felt without it. 

Was he an addict for your blood, or just obsessed with you?

It all combined in his frenzy of getting himself off, hoping and praying he wouldn’t moan too loudly when he came. 

Vision hazy and body growing warmer, he stroked himself at a slow pace, relishing in every moment of the electrifying thrill. Every pass down his length makes him grow harder and much more inclined to indulge in thoughts he’d been pushing away. Swallowing the thought of you on your knees for him, his cock in your mouth. He wonders just how warm you are, whether it’s your tongue along the veins of his shaft or your heat sucking him in. 

Gods– he shudders at the vision apparating in his mind. 

Astarion’s hips stutter relentlessly as he comes in his hand, cleaning the warm liquid off with a rag before heading back into camp for the night. His gaze caught your figure before he shut his eyes, relishing in the luck of your presence. 

He woke the next morning drenched in guilt at remembering what he’d done the night before. Taking your blood, selfish as it was, for his own benefit. Then to run off to the woods of all places and deal with the complicated feelings arising because of it?

How fucked was that, he thought. 

How dare he get aroused at the thought of you squirming under his touch with his lips pressed against your neck. Fangs under your skin, sucking out the very liquid that kept you alive. 

That thick, rich, liquid. Running along your veins and pumping through your heart, keeping you standing before him. Quite literally your life’s essence, and he was the only individual out of all the others in your life to have a taste for it. 

It was foreign to him, this pull towards you traveling over his entire body. A thing he wouldn’t have given a second thought to before this whole mess. Now with the control over his own actions, things were much different. He felt if he was ever going to do something right for once, it would be with you. 

Time passed whilst keeping up your little routine; he would only feed from you when you told him so, attempting to rein in his obsession with how you tasted. He was sure the fangs in your neck was a less than desirable experience, which had him shuffling off awkwardly afterwards most times. Truth be told, he didn’t want you to see how floaty and giggly your blood made him, better to keep up his stoic vampire appearance than let you see how drunk he got off your blood, to keep that mask of his up than let himself catch feelings. 

That same mask was becoming heavier with each moment he lingered too long on you inside his head. The only question was, would its slipping result in something catastrophic? Or life changing? 

–

On the road ahead with that certain vampire at your side proved plentiful, finding yourself walking near him more often than not. Astarion became the first person you turned to when in need of a second opinion, reassurance, or for when you just wanted to be in his presence until your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. You find comfort in his voice softening when you’re troubled, talking his pointed ears off about your past and if you’re truly capable of leading this group. 

“Your self doubts… They’re nothing to what you’ve gotten us through so far. You can do it, even if you think you can’t. And I’ll be here to make sure you get through.” 

He’d pushed your hair out of your eyes and made sure you were thoroughly hydrated after crying so much into his shoulder about it all. You thanked him with the promise to wash your tears out of his shirt the next morning, overly fatigued from all your sobbing. He shushed you while stroking your hair, only telling you to let yourself rest for the night. 

Upon waking the following morning, your head ached from the lack of hydration, finding yourself curled up into his chest, softly breathing as he slept. To avoid any awkward conversations, you managed to slip away before he woke. 

From the darker moments to the happier ones, Astarion was there for all of them. Finding the best bottles of wine for the celebrations you rarely had at camp, saving the best bottle for him as a gift. For his endless support of your endeavors, having your back in all the fights, and stealing you things without anyone noticing. 

All the softer times in passing, glancing towards him when he wasn’t looking, were when your eyes lingered. Beyond just his physical attributes, which were distracting enough, you felt a warmth in your chest getting up every day, knowing he’d be by your side. How you ached to see him smile or laugh as often as he was using those daggers he’s quite skilled with. His true beauty, the moments of happiness he found with you. Something about him looking as if he’d taken the place of the sun with the way he beamed. 

–

Choosing you to feed from rather than any of your other companions was special. It meant a great deal to you that it was your blood he was drinking- not Wyll’s or Gale’s- yours. 

His protective nature became much too obvious, as he’d place himself in front of you whenever someone stepped too close or became hostile towards you. Growling a threat towards said person always had your mind going someplace different, along with being thankful he stepped in to de-escalate the situation. 

Meanwhile everything Astarion does for you is out of his own growing affections. Ones he’s kept pushing further into himself. He wants to worship the ground you walk on for everything you’ve done for him. Not only do you make all the hard decisions and bond with others around you as easy as breathing, but to do so with your head held high, taking all the hits whether physical or mental. He adores you with all his being. 

From feeding him to supporting his endeavors with a smile, it’s the mental gymnastics he’s doing to keep himself sane that have been a pain in his ass. Getting off in the woods every night without fail has made the resentment of guilt a lump in the back of his throat. The filth that washes over him as he’s realized the desire to have you doesn’t just extend to your blood. Astarion wants to take in every inch of your body, its warmth with his fangs in your neck, how intimately his lips press to your skin while he sucks. To extend your blood’s warmth to him, understanding how your body responds when he puts his hands in the right place. On your waist, between your legs, down your torso, around the lengths of your hair. Holding you softly while he drinks, the little death being shared between you two. His dreams are filled with his imagining of how you’d sound squirming and whimpering below him, waking up from how vivid they become at times. 

Soon as he’s come with you on his mind again, it’s back to keeping his feelings undercover. 

That is until one night, observing Gale let you taste the camp stew he was in the process of whipping up one night. An aching ball forming in his stomach at the sight of you indulging the wizard. Your batting eyelashes when you looked up at him as your lips dragged over the spoon. Sickness filled him, unlike anything he’d felt before. It made the bile in his stomach begin to churn, slowly shoving its way up his throat with distaste. 

Your actions were innocent on the surface, but he knew Gale had been in relations with a goddess. 

Seriously, the wizard? Who couldn’t shut up for more than five minutes even if his life depended on it? He probably doesn’t know how to be with a mortal after so long. Too caught up on that astral plane nonsense. At least I don’t need to project and want to be a god to get off.

He couldn’t be the object of your affections, surely… 

Whatever his intentions were with you, innocent or not, they would have to stop before he got too confident. Before you slipped right through his dexterous fingers to that fool. Of all the things he’s failed to stop from happening, he had to make sure this didn’t happen the most. All Astarion knew was that he was desperate to be close to you more than ever. 

His voice grinds the vampire’s gears from across camp, like nails on a chalkboard. Why was his laugh so boisterous? Ever heard of subtlety, Gale? 

He doesn’t deserve your kindness, doesn't deserve your opinion on his fucking stew. 

But himself? The gentle vampire who has only ever been by your side, stepped in front of you when people got a bit too threatening? Much better than a human who couldn’t even go five minutes without talking about properties of the weave or something along those lines. Astarion always tuned those tangents out for his own sanity. He’d much rather laser focus on something like your sweet voice. 

Perhaps it was irrational to think he was the only one deserving of your time, but there was nothing else consuming his mind. To even think about someone as talkative as that wizard was trying to insert himself into your close circle when he’s been there from the beginning? He had to stifle the laugh in the back of his throat. 

Just give me a reason, wizard. 

Astarion huffed to himself and walked away from the sight before he did something unsavory he wouldn’t forgive himself for. 

Camp had settled down for the evening, everyone quietly going about their nightly activities. Peeking his head out of the red clothed tent, Astarion glanced over to see that Gale had retreated into his and wasn’t coming out until the next morning. 

Perfect timing for him to visit you for his nightly feed, but the nudging concern of the plethora of words he wanted to get out to you tonight wasn’t fit for the confines of your tent. 

The heat that flushed through his chest upon nearing your tent made him take a deep breath, to which he regretted the moment it was too loud for his liking. 

“Astarion? Is that you?” 

Your sweet, muffled voice sounded out from inside, and before he could even reach out to open the flap, you’d stepped out into the night to greet him. 

“Well, good evening to you too.” he answered, “Eager for my arrival? Or were you expecting someone else?” 

He grinned cheekily, making you smile in return. Who else would you be expecting this routinely?

“We’ve been traveling together for how long now? I always know to expect you over anyone else. If it wasn’t you, I’d be worried.” You move to the side to grant him entry to your tent, but he stands still. 

“Actually, would you mind taking a walk with me? I’ve got to get out of this camp for a while.” 

You agree, letting Astarion lead you down a path to quite a lovely view, one he’s frequented as a moment of peace before heading back to camp from his hunts. 

He stops short and from how closely you were walking behind him you bumped into his back, breathing in his scent of bergamot and brandy for a moment before backing away. That’ when he turns towards you, a soft chuckle leaving him. 

“I… have something to tell you, and I wanted to not be in camp when I said it.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Wrong? No, I–” he sighs, “There’s just something I need to get off my chest.” 

You looked up at him with those kind eyes, already feeling the heat in his stomach, churning his insides into goop. He took your silence as his cue. 

“Your blood, which you’ve been kind enough to grant me, helps me focus, yes. But you have an entirely more powerful effect on me. You’re selfless, kind and generous to those around you. Even to me, when I might not have deserved it.”

“Oh, Astarion…” 

He puts his hand up to stop you, so much more he has to say.

“You’re, well, everything to me.” 

The vampire’s voice breathily skirts over the word, as if it’s the first time he’s admitted it to himself. 

“You… you’re a vision. Everyone’s favorite, clearly. The one they all run to when there’s problems they can’t solve on their own. I… adore you for it. For being resilient even when the world may not have been so kind to you in return. You deserve every good thing that’s happened so far.” 

“No, I… I’m just doing what anyone else would have.” 

“Do you really think that? That me or— gods forbid, Lae’zel would’ve made the same choices?” 

“I… don’t know.” 

“For a fact, we wouldn’t. I don’t say things like this if they aren’t true, darling. I’m not a man of many words… unlike someone we both know. But that’s not the point. What is, is this. I’m fond of you in more ways than one, and I’m tired of keeping it bottled up. It’s become suffocating ever since this routine became regular for us. I’ve not been sure how to go about telling you all of it, but if I didn’t sooner or later, someone else would take the places I desire to be in. All I know is that whenever you’re not around, I worry, and I think about you constantly.” 

He looks relieved upon letting his words settle in the air, wringing his hands together nervously. You’re silent before you take a step closer to him, brushing a curl behind his ear and cupping his cheek. 

The stoic, unbothered vampire persona he’d been putting on had slowly worn away upon spending more time with you. It warmed his heart to see you not turn a blind eye to those in need of help, after he’d done so many a time. From reluctantly going along with whatever you said, to taking pride in being part of the ones who brought joy to less fortunate people, he found himself for the first time in two centuries, glad he had found such a soul. 

“You’re so…” you sigh, “I’ve been thinking about you too. So much.. I wish you had said something sooner. Then I wouldn’t have spent so many nights wondering if you felt the same. Worrying that I served no other purpose to you. But now…” you trail off, his rubies catching the light, as if they were filled with stars. The rest of your words escaped you, except, “Oh, just kiss me, you damn fool.” 

Astarion’s eyelashes fluttered, softening at your words, immediately feeling welcome to step closer. One of his cold hands cups your cheek as you’ve done to his, bringing you in close to touch your lips with his. One kiss sets him on fire, then another, and he’s pressing further against your mouth. It was almost as if he’d been waiting twice as long to do this with you, as you’ve been eager to do it with him. Your arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into your chest; his natural coolness fills the air between you. 

His hands, anxious as they are, softly place themselves onto your waist for the first time. Your lips are warm against his, your everything is warm against him. Intimately and gentle over all.

You pull back from him breathlessly, gods are his lips ever so addicting. Some of his saliva is left on your bottom lip as you do, but it’s not unwelcome. Nothing about him is. 

Your foreheads rest against each other, both of you grinning in the moonlight. There’s a light pink tinge to the tips of his ears, Astarion feels weightless in the grasp of your arms. 

“Somehow you’ve managed your way into my heart. I wouldn’t want anyone else intertwined so deep. I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Astarion. You mean the world to me.” Your words coat his skin like honey, sticking to him as they echo in his mind. 

“You’re such a gift. One of the things in this world I treasure more than anything. Above than any gold or trinket I could ever steal.” His thumb caresses the apple of your cheek, your skin tingling under his touch. Astarion could feel the heat in your cheeks from his simple but sweet contact. 

“Gods, you’ve always been good with words. Not like anyone I’ve ever met before.” 

“None of your past lovers have had such great hair either, I know…” He turns to the side, showing off his profile and the silvery curls adorning his head. 

You giggle. Of course he would take a sincere moment to talk about how pretty he was. “Well yes, that, and none have been at my side as diligently as you without second thought.” 

“You don’t have to. You make it so easy to show up for you and be by your side… that I don’t even have to try.” 

“My sweet star,” you cupped his face now with your palm, “No one as loyal has ever been in my life before. I’m so grateful to have you.” 

Astarion’s pearlescent fangs glistened in the moonlight as he grinned, pulling you in for another kiss. You could feel the vibration of his groan on your mouth as he leaned in further, a firm grip on your waist now. He was almost in disbelief of the luck he’d come about, yet here he is, combining his lips with yours and getting to relish in the warmth of your mouth for the first time without that lump in the back of his throat. 

You pull back, breathlessly, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before you speak again.

“Wait, do you…” you swallow his taste down, “still want to feed from me tonight?” 

“How could I say no…” he replies, “Your blood is so very tasteful. Decadent.. Almost as good as my favorite wine.” 

“You don’t need to flatter me, you already own my heart.” You roll your eyes dramatically, but your cheeks reddening just proves how much it actually meant to you. 

“Even better in that case, now I can watch you blush without worrying if you feel the same.” 

Leading him with your hand in his, the two of you made your way back to camp, taking your sweet time giggling and kissing him while you walked. As you laid down in your tent, Astarion’s hands trailed up your torso, sensitive ears tuned in to your heart rate picking up its pace. The canvas of your neck was too pretty not to kiss, which he took liberty in doing now shamelessly. Each press of his lips against the flow of your blood under your skin only made his hunger grow, but he hadn’t wanted to bite you yet. No, he’d take his time, painting his way across softly. 

Upon his third kiss, you began to giggle again, such perfect music to his ears. Not knowing what came over him, his lips attached to your neck again, desperately. Kissing and sucking and nipping ever so lightly with his teeth, that you whined. 

“Astarion… you whispered, “You need to feed.” 

“I know, my love. But, everyone needs to know you’re mine.” He purred, the tone in his voice making it clear he was not above marking you up. 

You giggled again, “Okay, well when you’re done, it’s my turn.” 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time…” he flirted, eyes lidded as he looked down upon you. 

So you let him continue, marking your neck up with several bruises, before pulling back and gazing at his masterpiece. 

“Gods, I tried to be gentle… but I might have gotten carried away a bit. You know how I get around you.” 

“Oh, shut it and come here.” As if the two of you couldn’t get closer in proximity, Astarion leaned down to give you access to his neck. You decided on leaving the area with his scars alone, but wrapped your hands around his nape for even more contact. When his body reacted to your soft kisses, his thumbs pressed circles into your waist, breathing became heavier. His forehead dropped onto your shoulder as you continued, sucking and laving on his skin with your tongue, almost rasping with how his hunger surged. He could smell your hot blood just beneath the surface, singing in your veins. His mouth opened, scraping the tops of his fangs against your skin with a light scratch. 

“Do it…” you whispered, hearing the growl in his breathing. Without another word, Astarion sunk his fangs into the spot they frequented. What surged over his tongue was decadent, sweet, so thick and familiar that it danced across his tongue with every swallow. 

“That’s a good vampire…” One of your hands reached up to stroke the back of his hair, its soft curls sliding through your fingers with ease. A very prominent whine vibrated through the skin of your neck. 

Meanwhile the hands on your waist never stopped their soft rubbing up and down as he fed. Within his palms stirred a warmth, something he had been itching to do upon his first feed, it became so overwhelming. That sea of ecstasy he wanted to set adrift in seemed so much nearer now. With you, it would never cease. 

He released your neck with a gasp, blood dripping down his lips. Before he could clean himself up, your other hand reached up to swipe it away and let him lick it off your thumb. As he did so, you could’ve sworn his eyes glowed for a second. 

“Thank you, my love. For always feeding me so diligently.” Astarion drops a kiss on your cheek, moving himself to lay next to you.

“How else are you supposed to be big and strong for our battles, hm?” 

“Certainly not without your beloved blood, that’s what I know. Now, let’s get some rest. Today’s been long enough, no use in making it longer. Although I could stare at you forever…” 

“Oh, shush. Goodnight, Astarion.” 

“Goodnight, love.” 

He pulled you in close to his chest, so you’d fall asleep in his arms, listening to every heartbeat. 

Morning came with warm coffee and fresh bread that Gale had picked up before anyone woke. He offered you some along with a nice jam spread he’d made. Before he started along another spiel of talking his head off just to be near you, you moved your hair to the side, exposing your neck littered with red splotches from the night before. The wizard, rendered speechless, was even more surprised when Astarion made his way over and slinked his arm around your waist with a kiss to your temple. He then rushed off, almost dropping his own cup and getting to whatever business he’d be up to in camp. 

Across the many days that passed, from the goblin camp, eventually to Baldur’s Gate, your relationship with Astarion became so much more. He was devoted and kind, everything you expected him to be, not just spitting flirtations at you without care. The man knew which names you preferred to be called, ones he knew would have you bending to his every whim. 

You didn’t have enough gold to purchase a new knife for him? There he was, whispering into your ear, Darling, the store manager is slowly going over all the different potions with another customer. She won’t even notice its disappearance. 

So when you slipped the knife into your pack, he knew he’d gotten what he wanted. Perhaps not the best use of your time, but he took a little joy in corrupting your usual honest self. As a treat to lighten your conscience though, he’d had a necklace engraved from the same shop with his initials. It looked so delicate around your neck, the shine of its metal mirroring the glimmer in your eye. 

The soft mattresses of Elfsong Tavern were a blessing; not only did Astarion persuade the barkeep to give you the rooms for free, but the top floor was also all private. Everyone finally got their own space, save for the ones who decided to pair up together. 

He would feed from you almost nightly again, save for a few days here and there. Taking his time to kiss your neck, helping clean you up afterwards after he was done. Always using his lithe fingers to rub a healing salve into where he’d bitten. Though it became a guilty pleasure for him to see your eyes closed when he did so, ending up indulging in each other’s lips more often than not. Along the way, your desire for him simmered under your skin, desperate hands traveling across the expanses of his back, across the ridges of his scars ever so gently. 

One night you quite literally began grinding up against him, his thigh pressed under yours for a little tease. It was even before he started to feed, that you couldn’t resist him any longer. Your kissing quickly became more feverish, dotting your lips across his face and his neck with wild abandon. It was when you flipped Astarion over to straddle his lap that he caught the ravenous look in your eye. 

“What’s gotten into you?” He inquired, hands finding their place on your waist. 

“Astarion, has it occurred to you that we haven’t had sex?” You asked in reply, hastily moving your hair out of your face. 

“Well, of course it has. I just never wanted you to feel obligated to, if that wasn’t something you were ready for.” 

“I wasn’t… not at first. But I trust you much more now than I ever did, and… I don’t think I can hold back anymore. I want to do this with you.”

“You do?” 

“I dream every night about how it would be to feel you in that way. To cry your name in pleasure as I…” You trailed off, already recognizing the growing arousal for him stirring. 

“Oh… I see my love. This is something you’ve thought about for a while, isn’t it?” 

Astarion’s voice borders on genuine concern and his purr-like tone, almost as if he’d been thinking about it as well.

“I’ve thought about it and thought about it to the point where I can’t take the fantasies anymore. I have to have you…” Your voice dripped with desperation, as he noted your scent pricked with desire. 

His eyes go lidded, wrecking the image of that sweet vampire persona you’ve come to know and love in a second’s time. 

“I’d love nothing more. But if you get uncomfortable, we can stop whenever you’d like. Promise.” 

“I promise. I love you, Astarion.” 

“And I love you, too. My precious darling.” 

Your lips attached to his again, ever fervent than before. You so proudly moaned into his mouth, tasting his tongue swirling around yours. His breathing became heavier, growling into your mouth as his hands slid down to the soft padding of your ass and gripped firmly. The wet sounds of your lips moving together so perfectly sparked the filthiest of desires in his brain. 

Pulling apart from him with a gasp, you swallowed before thinking again. 

“Wait, there’s one more thing I have to tell you.” 

“What is it, pet?” 

“That night when you fed on me, it… did something to me. Something I didn’t understand at first, but now I do. It turned me on… and I liked it.” Astarion noted the scent of your lust as you spoke, and the way your heartbeat jumped. 

“Oh, you filthy devil. And I thought you were nervous about me feeding from you… When really it was turning you on… making you crave me, hm?” 

“I... yes.” 

Astarion bit his lip, dragging his eyes down your torso slowly before meeting your eye again. 

“And…?” 

“And… I would love nothing more than to honor you with my blood once more while we make love.” 

Astarion’s fangs make an appearance when he smiles oh so wide, eyes glowing with how much he is relishing in this moment. 

“You’re serious?” 

“Astarion, take whatever you want from me. take my love, my blood, my body. I trust you. Wholly.”

"You have no idea how much those words mean to me, thank you.” 

He pressed his lips to yours passionately, before pulling away to speak again. 

“May I confess something, this time, love?” 

“Of course.” 

“I felt the same when I fed from you.”

“You…” 

“Well darling, I can’t lie, I watch your blood slide along your veins whenever I’m close to you. It’s just part of my vampiric nature, but I can’t help it. Not when you’re this addicting,” 

“Tell me more…” your hands cupped his cheeks, playing with the stray curls that threatened to fall in front of his face. 

“From the first bite… it was such an aphrodisiac, and I couldn’t resist what power it had over me. It felt so wrong at the time, when we weren’t together. To think of you like that, I mean. The blood… took on a life of its own inside me. But now that we’re together… it seems right to tell you.” 

“That’s… gods. I don’t blame you at all. I would’ve done the same if I were in your place.” Immediately after your admittance, your cheeks pinked up right quick. 

“Oh, really?” 

“You’ve got me there, it seems.”

His hips grinded up onto you from below, noting each time his breath hitched between kisses. A hand scraped through his hair, sensation heightening what arousal was already beginning to simmer throughout his body. 

“You know… not once did I think you were too rough with your bites. You never even left a bruise… When you were close enough to breathe in my scent, you always made sure it never hurt. And I guess that… along with so many other things… is what made me fall for you. I enjoyed being close to you, I always will.” 

“I had to. I couldn’t take something so precious from you without care. I would’ve hated myself if that happened.” 

“I admire the strength you had… even for your first time drinking from a human. What an honor.” 

“The fact that you continue to bless me with your blood is just another testament to our bond. Thank you for trusting me.” One of his hands slinked its way down and interlocked with yours, thumb rubbing the top of your hand delicately. 

“I always will,” you replied, bringing his hand up to your lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. 

“May I ask for just a little taste before we… dive head first into each other? A petite one, at that.” 

You smiled. As if he’d ever have to go hungry again with you. 

“Anything you want, my star.” 

“Perfect…”

His eyes closed in bliss at the sneaky idea he’d just thought up. “Turn around for me, I want to try something.” 

You sat with your legs sprawled out, with Astarion out of your view. 

 “Close your eyes, darling.” 

You did as you were told, awaiting his first move. Astarion’s contact began with one of his hands running up your back triggering a flurry of goosebumps to rise across your skin. You exhaled shakily, intrigued by what he had in mind, but also the aching need for him continued to grow. 

That same hand moved to the right side of your neck, resting his fingers over your pulse point to take in how fast it was pumping that rich blood through your system. 

But he wouldn’t bite you just yet. 

His second hand wrapped around your waist, doing the same motion of small circles after slipping his hand under your shirt. You felt his breath turn to a low snarl against your neck, running his left hand across your stomach to your midriff and down the cloth of your pants. 

That hand rubbed over your crotch as he finally sunk his fangs in, leaning into his chest. Sharp coldness of said bite turned to pleasurable and warm quicker than you could expect. 

Your whole body warmed under his touch, the same heat filling you as it did on the night of his first bite. Except there was no shame or reason to hide it this time. So you welcomed it, along with the filthy desires that followed. 

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, moaning low in his ear as he drank, with your head tilted to the side. His cold hand on the cloth of your mound only made matters worse, lifting your hips up for more friction. Gripped firmly under his hands, you could tell Astarion was smiling by the way his lips moved over where he had bitten. 

He lets up quickly after a few gulps, satisfied with his little drink. 

When your head falls back onto his shoulder, glancing upwards to the red lipped vampire, he catches the glimmer of your hazed eyes. 

“Oh, there’s the spark.” 

“Astarion…” you whined, unwilling to keep your desire for him under wraps. There was no point in doing so, he had you right where he wanted you. 

“Ah, you don’t have to say another word. I already know, darling.” 

His lips, stained with the crimson of your blood, press against yours again, moving his left hand to the waistband of your pants. 

The other that’s cradling your neck travels downwards, fingertips sliding over your shirt to grasp at your breast, nipple hardening under his light touch. All he has to do is rub over it once, before it made an appearance through the cloth. 

You aren’t wearing anything else under your shirt. Cheeky, he thought. 

“Your whole body’s been waiting for me to take you since that first day, hm?” A soft, massaging grip from his hand continued on the plush of your breast. 

“Mmnh… yes,” you whisper, “Please…” 

“Shh, sh sh sh. It’s alright. I’ve got you right where I want you.” 

You look to him, buzzing with eagerness in your eyes and plead again silently for him to touch you. The eager hand at your navel slips into your underwear, inching towards where you truly need him. To find you completely soaked wasn’t much of a surprise. 

Two of his fingers part your drenched folds apart, licking his lips at the knowledge of how much slick is gushing from you. With his fingertips, he ghosts over your aching clit once before traveling downwards again and pressing into your wet entrance ever so slowly. Not only do they slip inside almost immediately, but the sound that leaves you is incomprehensible compared to the ones you were making before. 

His digits are welcomed with no resistance, as if he couldn’t tell how alight your body became under his touch. Even through your clothes, the squish as they drag against your walls is enough to make him groan appreciatively. You gasp, the intrusion of such a different temperature compared to your own, noting the undeniable pleasure when he finally manages to find that sweet spot inside you.

Letting them rest against it for a moment before curling to his leisure stretches you out so nicely for him. Any upper body strength holding you up faded faster than light, falling against his broad chest with ease. 

You moan his name without a single thought, the apples of his cheeks pinking up from your glorious sounds that no one else was lucky enough to experience. It was music to his ears. How desperately he let the electricity form, tingling its way around on his skin. Slowly letting his own enjoyment build out of dragging his fingers in and out of you, he attuned to the hammering of your heart against his chest. 

Astarion took pride in every whine you let out upon the motion of his fingers, letting his thumb rub circles into your clit while he did so. 

“Gods, I want to undress you with my teeth… take my time with you… forever if I could.” he purred in your ear, earning him another breathy moan from you. 

“I can hardly resist you. Don’t make me–” 

“Beg? Oh, but that would be such a nice look on you…” 

“Astarion…” 

“Relax, darling.” 

You melt under his touch at the command, eliciting a proud smile from him from the knowledge that you’re wrapped around his finger. It’s not surprising how you already feel your arousal peaking from his simple touches, his heavy breath in your ear only urging you on further. Already eager to feel you clench around his fingers as you come undone. 

“You’re so close already, pet. Want to come on my fingers so bad, hm?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, “Please…” 

“Then come for me.” 

The next circle over your clit sends you soaring over the edge, breathing heavily and whining with a blinding release. Astarion’s lips peck and lick softly over your neck as you do so, relishing in the scent of pure ecstasy you emit. He’s already itching to be inside your walls, but desires to savor your taste on his tongue beforehand, as if he could be sustained from only that. 

He knows the way you write underneath his hands is only because of him, which only makes him grow harder tenfold. As his fingers pull out of your underwear, the sheen of your slick is such a sight to his eyes. Astarion is quick to bring your fingers to his mouth, letting your aroma fill his nose before indulging himself with you on his tongue. His eyes close upon your taste, almost as good as your blood, but nonetheless, one that takes hold of his mind so strongly, he can’t think of much else. 

“Your taste is like nothing else…” 

He crawls around you to your front, pushing you back onto the pillow behind him. 

“I must have more of you…” 

“Take whatever you want from me.” 

Astarion’s nifty hands pull both your pants and underwear down in one motion, not before noting how soaked your garments were and discarding them behind him. Between your legs was such a mess, one he undoubtedly caused; seeing you like this though, in the shallow wake of your high coursing through you, was where he found himself entranced. 

As if that wasn’t enough of an image to sear into his brain, you discarded your shirt off to the side, tired of the confining layers that kept him from seeing all of you. 

“I knew you were a vision, but this… not even the gods could find enough time to worship at your altar. You’re perfect.” His last compliment is admitted almost breathlessly, as if he’d walked in on a painter sculpting their muse. 

“Stop with the flattery and get up here.” 

Astarion compiled, meeting your lips with his while his hand grazed down your chest, fingertips like drops of cool water in between the sensitive skin of your cleavage. The stark difference in his body temperature made a chill run up your spine, turning on the most sensitive parts of you so easily.

Your lips intertwined moan after moan with his, while the touch of his hand traveled to your nipple. Another trails feather light across the expanse of your thigh. One flick of his thumb against it, and you were rutting up towards his body again. 

“Do you like that?” he murmured, too entranced with how you look below him. 

“Mhm… do it again.” 

He needs no further encouragement, diligently placing each way you like to be touched into a perfect little spot in his mind. Your mind is empty of anything else other than his hands on your body, exploring every inch. The echo of your voice in his ears does more than enough to spur him on. His subtle flick over your hardened bud is like a switch, setting your whole body off. 

You grip at the hair atop his head, pushing him down towards the apex of your legs. What you don’t expect is his lips to travel with the movement, pressing a path from your jawline down your neck, not before stopping to kiss and lick once or twice over each hardened peak and soft skin surrounding them. It then follows down your stomach to your navel before his tongue comes into play, laving over them the slightest bit through each kiss. 

When he comes face to face with your core, Astarion can’t control the way he begins to salivate at the sight. He’s breathing so heavily still, your scent of lust and sweat wafting around his head. He leans down, expecting to feel his tongue on you, but instead he kisses your pubic mound with appreciation, hooking his arm over your thigh. 

“Astarion…” 

He knows what you want, what you need from him, and he’s quick to indulge. He leans further down to your sensitive parts, and can’t help but run two fingers through you again to see how you shine. That ecstasy he took from licking you off his fingers would be nothing compared to diving in head first to your joyous arousal. When his eyelashes flutter and go hooded, it’s no surprise that he finally leans in, tongue first starting from your dripping entrance and all the way up to right over your sensitive button. His tongue laps at your opening, swirling and darting around to collect and devour every drop of your sweetness. 

The tip of his nose prods at your clit just enough to make you clench, each of the rogue’s movements calculated and determined to relish in how you spread across his tongue. When he swallows, a moan of content vibrates through you and your head falls back in gratification. It made his nose against your clit much more hypersensitive and your hips almost began stuttering upwards for more. 

Astarion’s multi talented tongue threatened to send you over the edge once more, but you nudged him a certain way and he let up. 

“You taste so good, I can’t get enough of you. My love…” His hand stroked your inner thigh softly, an action of comfort that only sent another jolt through you. 

“You’ve already made me come once and I haven’t even gotten the chance to touch you yet…” you whined, knowing all this pleasure taken should be given in return. Especially for a man such as himself. Your mouth watered thinking about it. 

“Oh, darling,” he laid a kiss on your heat, “You don’t have to do a thing for me.” 

“You’re very sweet, but if I don’t get to have you as you’ve had me, I will lose my mind. Now…” 

The assertiveness you commanded over him did nothing but command him to obey, unwrapping himself from your thighs before sitting up. Your eyes immediately traveled down to his crotch, where his pants did very little to obscure his tenting beneath the fabric. Without another thought, you push him back onto the bed to straddle him, grinding your bare cunt against his cock. The friction is incomprehensible, but you must stay focused; this was about him now. 

Your hands lock around the nape of his neck, only letting one of your wrists trail over his lips. His first instinct is to kiss it, but then he remembers why you both are here. Your blood continues to pump loudly in his ears, its aroma still prominent in his mind. 

“Go ahead, I know you want to…” you spoke in a low voice, goading him on to sink his fangs in. His head lowers, red eyes lidded and locked on yours. He abides, the quiet squelch into your wrist paired with the sting of his teeth’s sharpness a minor pain at this point for you. 

The slow pulls he takes immediately pink his cheeks and tips of his ears up so much so, you thought he might’ve been feverish if he wasn’t of vampiric nature. Out of curiosity, you ran your fingertip over the pinkness in his ear to find it warm– hot, even. Astarion released your wrist with a whine, gasping at your sudden contact. 

“Sorry, did that hurt?” 

“N-No… do it again, please…” He whispers his last word, the alluring persona washing away with every small rub, whining even louder this time. Within your teasing, Astarion takes liberty to heal your wrist and kiss it once the puncture marks faded away. 

His head falls back in bliss, feeling the warmth of his blood travel down his throat with your hand. It lightly trails down his jaw, your thumb lightly ghosting over his adams apple as he swallows down the rest. Astarion whimpers something pathetic, the weight of you over his cock making it throb unnecessarily harder than it already was. 

“Did my blood just… do that?” You glanced downwards at the erection you straddled. 

“I think so,” he replied breathlessly, passionately connecting your lips with his. 

“Let’s get these off you. That does not look comfortable and… I want to make you feel so good…” 

“That sounds delectable, pet.” Astarion replies, letting your greedy little hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt to discard it. 

You paused a moment before going any further, taking in the picture of him below you. What a vast expanse of his chest that has your eyes glowing, as his rubies look upward to you. You kiss him once more, peppering kisses down his sharp jawline to the sensitive skin between his pecs and flitting your tongue across his nipples in the same nature that he’d done to you. 

“Hah-” you hear him gasp, knowing you’re doing something right. He intently listens to your heart rate and how fast your blood is pumping through your body while you travel down his own. Kissing your way to his navel and licking softly, pulling the cutest little moans from him. The strong ridges of his torso are next for your lips, letting your tongue drag across it from time to time. Your hands tug his pants down over the length of his prominent bulge. 

You discard them ever so quickly, his cock springing up eagerly, as pretty as the rest of him. His pink tip throbs in the cooler air, finally freed from his tight clothing. 

“Gods damn…” You muttered in disbelief. Of course such a pretty man would have a pretty cock to go along with the rest of him. 

“Look at what you do to me…” Astarion whines, biting his lip and tossing his head back. He doesn’t have to say anything else before you’re lowering your mouth and kissing his tip, lightly dragging your tongue over his slit, desperate to please. His cock twitches, standing even more upright against his toned stomach. 

“You’re perfect… in every way.” You comment, looking up at him before wrapping a warm hand around his base. It’s as if you could feel all of the blood he’s consumed pumping through him while in your hand. You inch up his shaft, letting your palm cover his tip completely to hear him whimper again. 

“Ah–” 

What makes him grow even harder is the gaze in your eyes as you continue to fist him, the way your lips are parted and your tongue threatening to escape again. Astarion doesn’t expect your other hand to massage his balls, only earning you an even higher pitched moan from him. 

Before he knows, you’re bending down again, flitting your tongue over his slit to taste the salty precome. Your soft lips roam down his length, leaving the sweetest of kisses as you continue. His chest heaves, whole body firing up in response. When your hands are replaced by the warmth of your mouth and your tongue down the side of his cock, he almost cums right then and there. 

But he indulges you, letting your movements continue and swallows down what noisy sounds he would’ve made. The moment he does, you lift off him with a knowing look. 

“Let me hear you, please,” you ask, your vampire nodding before raking one of his hands through your hair. Your warm mouth continues, before his hips begin stuttering and his curses switch to unintelligible whining again. After all the teasing and pushing all the right buttons on his body, you’re seemingly about to send him barreling towards his release with the consistency of your mouth on him. Licking the side of his cock as you move up and down, lips red and swollen from the friction. You look a perfect mess with your saliva covering him and doing so willingly on him like this. 

“Gods, I’m going to–” 

“Come…” you plead, “for me…” 

That’s all Astarion needs to hear, hips stuttering as he bucks into your mouth, spilling down your throat with a groan that tapers off into a content whimper of your name. You swallow every drop of his spend and ease him down from the peak of his high. Chest heaving, you release him with a pop, cock twitching in the open air, dripping and still half hard. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead, glistening in the light of the room. 

“Thank you, my darling.” Astarion leans down, cupping your cheek with his hand and kissing you, tasting himself on your lips. 

“You look so pretty when you come…” you reply, wiping the extra saliva off your mouth. 

“Not as pretty as I’m going to look when I fuck you.” His voice lowers to a purr, immediately bringing you closer to him with his strength. “You'll take every inch, won’t you?”

“Mhm,” You whimper in reply as Astarion crawls over you, dragging his fingers ever so lightly over your torso. 

“Now tell me, did you touch yourself while thinking about me?” Your face is too quick to give you away to deny it, feeling your cheeks heat up. That’s enough of an answer for him. 

“You did, didn’t you? Don’t be shy. I want to hear that dirty little mouth admit it.” 

“Yes, I did. I… fucked myself with my fingers wishing it was you. I got off on the high your bite gave me. Gods…” You cover your face in embarrassment, but there was no admitting that to him with a straight face. 

“It’s alright, little love. No need to be embarrassed. I did too. My mind said no, but my body, filled with your blood, might I add, said yes. I dreamed of you laid out like this for me, so many damn times before I ever thought about it being real.” His hand pulls yours away from covering how much your cheeks are pinked up at the admittance of such a thing. 

“My tongue still remembers the way your blood tastes, you know. I can’t wait to fuck into you and taste you again.” 

“Please… please, please…” you whimper, finally at the crux of your fantasy where it becomes reality. All the nights you spent forcing yourself to be quiet, coming with a whisper of his name, were your real life now. 

“Please, what?” 

With the way he hovers over you now, his cock rests just over your navel, almost perfectly lining up with how it’ll fit inside you. 

“Bite me– drink my blood as you put your cock inside… I want to feel it grow.” You mewl, and when he growls with that all knowing smile, you know he’ll give you what you want. 

Your lips smash together this time, ever so hungrily, almost bordering on needy. Astarion pulls back for a moment, before letting his eyes drop to the pulsing point on your neck to lean down and meet it with a kiss. 

There’s nothing like the cold sharp sting of his fangs that soon melts into the purest form of euphoria as he slowly drinks, tongue greedily sweeping over the marks he’s made. The way he murmurs little strings of praise upon his approval against your throat, with blood covered lips. 

His tip prods at your entrance, pushing in slowly but with no resistance to the hilt before he’s consumed too much. Between the pulls he takes from your neck, he’s groaning with each swallow. Your blood sings inside him, truly feeling the aphrodisiac that is your essence of life. It consumes him, taking over the vast inches of his pale skin. Astarion’s grip on your body becomes the thing he clings to, letting his hands find your waist and back of your neck again. He pulls you closer to him, attempting to override the high he’s been put on, but he falls short just the slightest bit. 

From this point you were overjoyed to finally feel the drag of his cock against your walls, going from filled to the hilt to somehow even deeper, your blood filling him as he has filled you. It was poetic in a sense, erotic, and if you weren’t so lost in the high his bite was giving you, you could have cried at this ever so perfect moment. 

Finally he releases your neck with a gasp, apples of his cheeks pinked up, and eyes shimmering. Astarion is grinning ear to ear as he looks down on you, triggering a blissed out smile from your own lips. 

“How do I look?” you ask, slurring your words a little. 

“Beautiful. Like you always do.” When he asks, “Did you feel it?” in a low voice, you know he’s growing so impatient. 

“Mhm… fuck me… fuck me so good, the way you know how, Astarion.” 

Your moan again as his lips collide with yours, the first few thrusts of his cock slow and methodical. He angles his hips in such a way to hit that spongy sweet spot inside of you without trying, relishing in the friction of your walls. 

“So ready for me, and still so tight. Fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you? Hah–” 

His voice drips with lavishness, a devoted tone and desperate to please. 

“Astarion… faster, please…” 

He says no more, only growling in agreement as his hips pick up the pace. He smiles blissfully while his thrusts find a steady pace inside you. It’s even harder to not lose himself like he has in your neck several times before, soaked in happiness as his pace evens out. What a mistake he makes as he looks down at your neck, becoming so much more difficult not to lose all control and rut into you like a cat in heat. 

You moan out his name, every thrust a commitment to giving you his all each and every day he’s with you. 

“Again,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Astarion.” his mouth is on you again, eager for another taste, snagging your lip with his fang. 

“Again.” 

He commands in a tone that leaves no room for second thought. The friction of his cock against your walls, swallowing him in repeatedly, as if it were what your body was made for, brings you barreling towards your release. It’s when he reaches down where the two of you meet in the most intimate way, that you lose all train of thought. Your mind goes fuzzy as his fingers swirl at your clit, your combined fluids doing enough to lubricate the way he circles over your clit. 

“I’m going to…” 

“Come for me… Please darling, gods, please…” 

The ruthless pace he keeps up in order to come with you will definitely leave you sore in the morning, along with bloodlessness and at much too many disadvantages. But in this moment, you just don’t care– sharing this pure hot bliss and pleasure with Astarion has tied your souls together for eternity. 

So when his hips stutter again, holding himself inside you as he paints your walls with his warm cum, is when you know he’s yours forever. You shatter around him, clenching uncontrollably that he almost comes a second time. Both your movements slow to a halt, catching your breath as your heartbeats continue to pound in your ears. 

“I love you, thank you…” Your voice is hoarse, but appreciative, as you speak

“I love you, infinitely more…” He returns your sweet words. 

When Astarion lays down next to you, he can’t quite help the throb of his heart in an endless river of warmth. You’ve put him there, not just physically, but spiritually and mentally. Within his heart he knows he can love and trust you like this till the end of his days. 

[imagine-it-was-us]

Stephanie's place || Lando Norris

Inspiration: Joesef "Stephanie's place"

Author's note: Been obsessed with this song since the drop. And my interpretation of lyrics immediately went to some form of unrequited love and dependency. So here's my take on it. Hopefully you will have fun reading it 🔥

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: none really. Just mentions of drinking.

Summary: She’s the one he always calls. And she always answers. A habit, a ritual, whatever you want to call it. They orbit each other, close enough to feel the pull but never enough to collide. Maybe it’s love. Maybe it’s just fear of what’s left when the line goes silent. Either way, she stays.

Word count: 3.2k+

“Lando, have you seen the time?”

Her voice was thick with sleep, groggy yet edged with familiarity, because, of course, it was him. Who else would be calling at this hour?

“Yeah, sorry to bother you. Could you pick me up, please?”

She sighed, already rolling out of bed, rubbing at her tired eyes. 2:46 AM. At least she had managed to get a couple of hours of sleep before this inevitable call.

“Where are you?”

“At Stephanie’s place.”

Her brows knit together.

“Who’s?”

“I will message you an address. Thank you, angel.”

Angel. She sighed again, not out of annoyance, but out of something deeper, something she didn’t have the energy to name.

This wasn’t the first time she had to step up for him. But lately, especially during his break from F1, it had started to feel like a pattern. A habit. The locations changed, the drinks changed, the people around him changed. But one thing stayed the same: he always called her.

It should’ve meant something.

Maybe, once upon a time, she would have let herself believe it did. But after the last embarrassment that happened a couple of years ago, she wasn’t about to go there.

That time, she really thought that what they had was something. Their friendliness slowly turned into flirting, spending every minute possible together which was easy due to proximity, being almost next door neighbors. When they hang out, the stares would linger, the rest of the world would be out of focus. And she knows that it was not in her head, because they even kissed.  Just once, in a haze of alcohol and late-night honesty. Yet in the morning, he acted like nothing had happened, so she rolled with it, thinking it was just a matter of time. Believing that it would inevitably happen again.

Yet a couple of weeks after the kiss, Magui appeared from what seemed to be thin air. Just like that, the lines shifted. She wasn’t pushed away. Just pulled back. Reframed. No longer a possibility, just a presence. Always within reach, never quite held onto. The good neighbor. The dependable friend. The shoulder to lean on when things went to shit. 

And it happened more than you would think. Margarida was a sweet girl, no matter what world whispered about her behind her back. But simply her and Lando were never meant to be. Their relationship became undone in slow, inevitable fractures. A wrong word here, a missed call there. Too many nights spent apart, too many silences stretching too long. She had seen the way he tried to hold on, and worse – the way he finally let go.

And through it all, she had been there.The one who picked up the phone at 2:46 AM. The one who drove him home when he had nowhere else to go. The one who never asked for anything, even when she wanted to.

And now? Now, she wasn’t sure if he was calling her because he needed her… or because she was simply the last person left to call. Still, she grabbed her keys. Because even after everything that went down, when it came to him, she always would.

After 20 minutes, when she pulled up, she spotted him immediately. Lando was already sitting on the sidewalk, head tilted back toward the night sky. He looked almost peaceful, like none of the mess from the past few days could touch him here. As if it was all floating somewhere far above him, out of reach.

She rolled down the window.

“Lando.”

It took a second, but he blinked, as if shaking off a trance. Then, with a sloppy sort of grace, he pushed himself up and stumbled into the car.

“Here’s my favorite neighbor,” a sheepish grin never leaving his face.

There was another eye roll on her end. Drunk Lando was always full of rizz, dripping in flirtation he’d never remember in the morning.

“More like your personal driver around Monaco,” she muttered, shifting the car into gear. “So who’s this Stephanie?” she asked, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible, even though there was a pinch of curiosity in her voice.

“Oh nobody, we just met last night. Crashed at hers, but I think I overstayed my welcome.”

“Wait, you have been here since Thursday?”

“Yeah, we were drinking last night. Then drinking today,” he just shrugged his shoulders casually. 

She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. Classic. There was no point in pushing him, no point in asking anything remotely serious. She knew better by now. This was the stage of the night where anything she said would slip through the cracks of his drunken haze, lost by morning.

So she just kept her eyes on the road, gripping the wheel a little tighter than before. But he was the one who didn’t want to sit in silence.

“Oh, Magui asked me to pass you a message.” His voice was lighter than the words themselves. “She said if I ever find something of hers in my apartment, could you please reach out to her as she’s, uh… blocked me in every possible way.”

Her brows lifted slightly, though she kept her eyes forward.

“So it was that bad?” she mumbled more to herself rather than him. But, of course, he picked that up.

“I wouldn’t say it was bad. It was… messy.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “She kept on yapping about how I was never in it with everything.”

“And were you?”

Silence stretched for just a second too long.

“I don’t know.” His voice was softer now. “I thought I was. I really liked her, you know. She was great fun. I maybe even loved her.”

Maybe even.

She swallowed, keeping her expression unreadable. “Loved her… or were you in love with her?”

It felt like he was willing to overshare tonight, and if that was the case, she wanted the details.

Another pause.

Then, quietly, almost like an afterthought –

“I was never in love with her.”

It was hard for her to let this conversation go.

“Then why did you stay with her for so long?” 

Almost two years. That was a long time to be with someone, to build a life together, to share moments that, at least on the surface, should have meant something. In her opinion, it was plenty of time to figure out whether someone was your person or just a passing chapter.

Lando exhaled, his head resting back against the seat.

“I don’t know. Maybe I was just holding on because I didn’t want to be alone.”

She wasn’t prepared for that answer. For a moment, she kept her gaze locked on the road, fingers flexing around the wheel.

Not wanting to be alone.

The words settled in her chest, heavy and unexpected. She had never thought of Lando – charming, reckless, constantly surrounded by people – as someone who feared loneliness. He was always the one filling rooms with laughter, the one who had a million plans, a thousand friends, a life too fast-paced for solitude.

And yet… here he was.

Maybe that’s why he always called her. Because she was easy to reach. Familiar. Safe. The realization settled like a weight in her chest. If that was all she was to him – just a reflex, a habit – then why did she keep picking up?

She swallowed, pushing down the unease curling in her stomach.

“And what about now?”

He stayed silent for long enough that she thought that he had fallen asleep. But then, just as she was about to let the conversation drop –

“I’m scared shitless,” he admitted silently, almost like a whisper. “But I knew I couldn’t do it for longer. For both of us.”

The way he said it sent her into a spiral, her mind latching onto those words, twisting them in every possible direction. 

Which “us” was he talking about? Him and Magui? The relationship he had just ended? The one he had stayed in out of fear of being alone? Or… No. No, she wasn’t going to do this to herself. She wasn’t going to let hope creep in where it didn’t belong.

Lando sighed, running a hand down his face. He looked tired, like the weight of everything had finally started pressing down on him. And for a split second, she wanted to reach over, wanted to do something, but she kept her hands on the wheel instead.

“You know,” she started, her voice carefully measured, “for someone who didn’t want to be alone, you sure spent a lot of time acting like you were.”

It slipped out before she could stop herself. But once it was out there, hanging between them, she didn’t regret it. Because it was the truth.

That is what she has witnessed in his previous relationship – he was always the one to put his distance between himself and Margarida, not the other way around. He was always in some way emotionally unreachable. 

At first, she had blamed his lifestyle. The relentless travel, the expectations, the way his world was built around schedules and speed. But deep down, she knew better. If he had wanted to make it work, he would have. Because she had seen him do it before. A couple of years ago, when things between them were different – he had tried. He had made the effort. He had shown up, in ways that mattered. And then, just when she had started to believe in the possibility of them, he had turned away.

She also knew that this conversation was slowly pushing them to the point of no return, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to brush it off and change the subject. She just kept her hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, counting on the alcohol in his system to blur the edges of this conversation by morning.

Lando exhaled, rolling his head against the seat to look at her.

His voice was quieter this time, almost thoughtful. “You could say I’m good at self-sabotaging, then.”

It was an attempt to shake off what she had said. To make it sound like a joke. But his voice lacked the usual carelessness. And she knew – he wasn’t just talking about Magui anymore.

“That’s a hell of a thing to admit so casually.”

Lando let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “What, you want me to say it dramatically? Maybe get on my knees and confess my sins?”

“I want you to say something that actually means something when it means something.”

The words came out before she could soften them into something easier, something safer. But maybe she was done making this easy. Because honestly, if that’s the route he wanted this night to go, she was finally willing to let it happen. If she was just his safety net – just the person he landed on when everything else fell apart – then fine. But she wouldn’t sit in silence and pretend she didn’t feel anything. Not anymore. If this conversation was shifting toward the edge of something dangerous, something irreversible, then she owed it to herself to stop pretending she didn’t want to know where they stood.

Lando blinked, caught off guard. For once, he didn’t have some quick-witted reply ready.

“I mean it, Lando,” she pressed, voice steady but laced with something heavier, something she didn’t want to name. “You say you sabotage yourself, fine. But are you ever gonna stop?”

His jaw tightened. His fingers twitched against his thigh. She could tell she had struck something deeper. 

It was for him to decide – brush this off like he did with their kiss those years ago, or finally face it and break the toxic cycle he was stuck in. And he had the perfect opportunity, as she had just pulled up into his driveway. 

The longer they sat in the silence, the more suffocating it felt. But he didn’t move and she didn’t either. Through the window, she was looking at the moon looming over them, thoughts running through her head at the speed of light.

Lando finally broke the awkward silence.

“You know, sometimes I think about that night.”

Her breath hitched. “What night?”

Lando let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You know which one.”

The weight of his words settled between them, thick and undeniable.

“Thought you didn’t remember?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Oh I did. For weeks whenever I closed my eyes all I could see was your face. But I was a coward, so it was easier for me to pretend that nothing happened,” he shook his head. This whole conversation felt like it was sobering him up. 

“And how was it fair on my part?” She turned to him, annoyance written all over her face. So not only he pretended that nothing had happened, but he also left her on hold for two years. Alone. With her feelings. Where she thought that maybe she read too much into his behaviour and it was just a drunk impulse, that meant nothing to him. She had to see him fall in and out of the relationship, dragging someone innocent into his toxic ways. All because he was letting fear to dictate the way he was supposed to be living. 

His jaw clenched. “It wasn’t fair. I know that.”

She let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “Do you? Because if you did, you wouldn’t have let me sit with it alone for two fucking years.”

Lando opened his mouth, but for once, he didn’t seem to know what to say. His hands curled into fists on his lap. 

“It did mean something.” He finally admitted. 

“Then why didn’t you act like it?”

Silence. Thick, heavy.

She turned away, blinking hard at the windshield. The weight of everything, years of buried feelings, of watching him with someone else, of being the one he always called but never truly saw, was crushing.

“You don’t get to sit here and act like you suddenly see me just because your relationship crashed and burned,” she whispered, voice shaking, because she hated how much it was taking a toll on her.

Lando exhaled, rough and unsteady. “That’s not what this is.”

“No?” She let out a humorless laugh, looking at him again. “Then what is it, Lando?”

He didn’t hesitate this time. “I know I was never in love with Magui, because I am in love with you.”

Her breath caught. But she couldn’t let herself believe it – not yet. 

“Don’t do that.” Her voice wavered, but she held her ground. “Don’t sit here and say things you don’t mean just because you’re scared of being alone.”

“I’m not scared of being alone.” He turned toward her fully now, desperate for her to see him. “I’m scared of being without you.”

She let out a sharp breath, looking away again, because she couldn’t let herself fall – not when he had let her drop before.

Lando ran a hand through his curls, frustration written all over his face. “You think I don’t know what I did? You think I don’t fucking hate myself for it? Why do you think I drink myself to oblivion, when I can’t just face you sober.” His voice cracked. “I see you, okay? I always have. I just… I was too much of a coward to do anything about it. And then Magui came along and for a flicker of time I thought that maybe the kiss was a fluke. But the longer I stayed with her, the better I understood that it wasn’t. I was just an idiot who would rather keep you at arms length in my life than risk it all and eventually lose you.”

She clenched her jaw, still facing away. “And what’s changed now?”

“I have.” His voice softened. “And I know that probably doesn’t mean shit to you right now. But I swear, I love you. I really do.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Those words… God, those words. She had wanted to hear them for so long. But wanting them and believing them were two different things. And she wanted to believe him so bad.  For two years, she had convinced herself that what had happened was nothing but a drunken misstep in his eyes. She had picked up the pieces of her own heart in silence, forced herself to move forward while he moved on with someone else. And yet, no matter how much she tried to bury it, the truth remained – she had never stopped loving him. 

Because that was why she stayed. That was why she always answered when he called, why she showed up when he needed her. She wasn’t just his safety net – she had made herself one. And that realization twisted something deep inside her.

Maybe that made her pathetic. Maybe that made her just like him – stuck in a loop of self-sabotage, never brave enough to step off the ledge.

The weight of his confession hung between them, thick and fragile all at once. She could feel him watching her, waiting, hoping, maybe even pleading.

“I won’t say it back, if that’s what you’re hoping.” Her voice was quieter now, but no less firm. It took everything in her to stand her ground, to not just give in.

“I’m not asking for anything.” His tone was steady, but there was something raw in it, something that felt real. “You don’t owe me shit. It just wasn’t sitting well with me, that’s all.”

“If you mean it, and I mean really mean it, you’re going to have to show me.”

Lando didn’t hesitate. He nodded once, his gaze steady, unshaken. “I will.”

She faced him, studying his expression, searching for doubt, for hesitation. Something to prove that it was just another bluff. But for the first time in a long time, she didn’t see any.

She exhaled slowly, reaching for the gear shift. Getting back in touch with reality from something that felt surreal. “Go inside, Lando.”

He didn’t move right away. “And in the morning?”

She met his eyes, holding him there. Letting the weight of this moment settle.

“In the morning, we start by not pretending that this didn’t happen.”

It was a clear dig for his past behavior. And he welcomed it as a slow exhale left his lips, shy smile creeping to the corners of it. Then, finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

She watched as he stepped out, his usual drunken stumble replaced with something steadier. Something different.

She stayed in the driveway for another minute, just to steady herself, to let the conversation sink in.

For two years, she had convinced herself that this was one-sided. That she had been foolish for holding onto something he had long since let go of. And now, in the space of a single conversation, everything had shifted. 

Of course, there was always the possibility that after sobering up, things will look different to him again. And yet… something felt different tonight. Maybe it was the way he had looked at her, steady and unshaken. Maybe it was the way his voice had cracked, or how he hadn’t tried to take the easy way out. He hadn’t asked for forgiveness or promises – just the chance to prove himself.

That was new.

She exhaled, resting her forehead against the steering wheel for a brief moment before finally leaving his driveway.

Hope was dangerous. But at least until the morning, she was willing to take this gamble of hoping. 

[lazyjellyfish300]

lightning strikes twice 🖤⚡🎲

Synopsis: it all began with meeting Nanami Kento at a ruined MCR concert one night in Vegas that was as fleeting as it was passionate. But, sometimes fate has a funny way of repeating itself when he shows up as your blind date years later.

words: 11.8k

CW: x FEM! READER, READER IS SHORTER THAN KENTO WHO IS 6'0 AND HAS CURVES. College age emo!Kento, Post Shibuya scarred!Kento, SMUT(69, virginity loss(kento), protected p in v, elevator makeout), READER HAS SOCIAL ANXIETY, DRUNKENESS, ALCOHOL, SMOKING, ANGST, FLUFF.

a/n: written for @thesoftuglywrites for @unintentionalseductress blind date valentine's event. I profusely apologize for being late again.😭😭 I hope this is worth it!! 🫶🏽 I have two versions, this is the more general reader version and then there's the oc reader version based on your description.

No need to read both if you don't want to but I thought I'd include them both just in case. 🙂‍↕️Thank you so much for having me & reading in advance. 💕 dividers by @/saradika-graphics pics from Pinterest. My emo!Nanami inspiration as always: @actuallysaiyan.

@ambiguouslady42

Can lightning strike twice? Can the same piece of Earth be hit in such perfect succession as no coincidence of nature? Is such a formidable force destined to repeat itself despite the miracle of happening in the first place?

It is a rare occurrence, you would guess, and that is what many scientists would tell you. So, how can it be, as you stare, dumbfounded at the man across from you on a night like tonight, so similar to one you encountered him years earlier?

A face you knew once, intimately, similar, but the full weight of the time that had passed between you slowly became realized the longer you stare at one another, almost like he’s brand new.

A moment back then that was just like this one. A second strike of lighting landing directly in the same spot.

Maybe it can after all.

—---

Years earlier

It was spring break. When the temperature warmed up and the sun stayed in the sky a little bit longer. That trademark feeling of youth crept in the breeze that blew in your hair that felt like freedom with the weight of academics temporarily forgotten. You slowly worked up the bravery to take advantage of it while it lasted after a long, lonely winter of being frozen and cooped up in the same place.

That's how you found yourself on a plane to Las Vegas with a bunch of friends with unwise decisions brewing and holes burning in your pockets.

Every cell in your body was telling you that this was a bad idea. Normally the idea of going out would make your skin crawl and fill you with the exhaustion of running a marathon before you even stepped out of the house.

But FOMO would be an even more difficult force to contend with. Add the fact that My Chemical Romance was playing in Vegas, and that feeling tripled until you had no choice but to cave in and get through the vacation to the best of your ability.

As you got ready with your friends in your hotel room and jumped into the Uber, you prayed for the best and plastered on your best fake-it-til-you make-it-mask that you prayed would last the entire evening.

—-

Kento feels massively out of place in this endless sea of people. Doing his best to not let his attention linger on the strong stench of body odor, cheap liquor, and perfume, he absentmindedly bounced his knee as he surveyed the area around him, wondering how much longer he'd have to put up with the crowd before the show would finally begin.

This had all been Satoru’s idea, spending spring break in Sin City. He and Suguru were attached at the hip, of course, while Shoko and Utahime were in some kind of their own secret club, leaving him the odd man out. The fact that MCR was one of his favorite artists of all time was about the only factor keeping him here, aside from the unfortunate fact that he was effectively trapped since they were his ride.

“Nanamiii-PSSTT!”

Kento's eyes widened as he watched Satoru and Suguru roll like secret agents underneath the red ropes to the VIP section while Utahime giggled and looked around, holding them up as Shoko slid through, before following after.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me…” Kento grumbled and felt his stomach turn, looking quickly both ways to make sure the coast was clear before darting in as well before he could be seen.

—

It feels like an eternity that you've been standing in this same spot. You're excited for the show, but you were slowly being put to the test the longer you stood packed in like a sardine in an overheated and very loud tin can. Your friends are chatty with excitement due to the anticipation as well as the alcohol they snuck in, too preoccupied with taking selfies to notice your building distress.

As your social battery rapidly depleted, you feel yourself start to go nonverbal as you began envisioning how much better the air conditioned hotel room with some greasy food and a good nap sounds, and a sense of dread settles in your body because you don't want to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity to see MCR in all of their glory live.

“Give me one of those.”

You order one of your friends to hand you a mini bottle of Crown Whiskey, and they cheer you on as they watch you throw it back. The alcohol leaves a trail of fire down your throat and your body feels tingly, warm, and numb as it begins to work its impairing magic.

“Girl! This way!” Your friends call for you as they begin disappearing in a mischievous chain inside a random opening in the crowd.

Eyes watery, you grab the clammy hand of your friend who's bringing up the caboose right before she's lost in the crowd, letting them drag you to who knows where without a word of protest.

—--

Shit…oh, shit.

Coming to the realization that you and your friends illegally infiltrated the VIP mosh pit is not one you want to make while you're becoming more and more intoxicated. Judgement blurry, mind in a boozy haze where you couldn't think straight, you toss back one more mini bottle and that's when you clap eyes on each other.

“Sorry.” Kento mumbles as he feels himself stumble backwards into someone, and turns his head momentarily in half-hearted acknowledgement. He does a double take, and his pupils almost comically enlarge as the fact that the person he stumbled into isn't just some forgettable stranger, but a rather beautiful one, smacks him in the face.

The way that surprise was worn on your face as a sweeping dash of warmth spread across it that only complimented the sheen of the glow on your skin that was brought out by the stage lights, the way your hair fell around your face like petals framing the exquisite flower in the middle.

But, most of all, your eyes, the roaring depth of your irises echoed the other ethereal qualities about you that vacated his brain of all trains of thought like a vacuum of space.

An unexplainable force of nature that can only be likened to that first strike of lighting that smites him where he stands and his lips part a little.

The force does not go unexperienced by you, either. He's tall, and slightly lanky with skinny jeans and a black concert t-shirt to match. He has silky blonde locks with bangs that fall in his face that slightly cover one of his eyes that are subtly traced in eyeliner just around the edges that makes them pop. His gaze is gentle, contrasted with eyes an intense shade of amber brown like pools of darkened honey. He emitted an aura that was shy, reserved, and awkward even.

In a nutshell, he was absolutely perfect.

“Sorry,” he murmured again, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“It’s okay.” You reassure him. The alcohol has gone to your head, making you uncharacteristically chatty. “What's your name?”

The pink spreads to his cheeks as he leans in again for you to repeat your question over the noise in the venue. “Hmm?”

“What's your name?” You repeat closer to his ear.

“Kento.” He answers you, a little louder.

You beam, and that first glint of your smile sends a shudder through him. You were trouble.

“Yours?” He asks, since it was only the polite thing to do.

You give him your name and then more questions slip out from your loosened barrier. “Where are you from?”

“Japan.” He answers. “Japan.” He repeats when you lean in to hear him better.

“No way?” You answer, an incredulous look on your face as you gave him another disarming smile. “Spring break as well?”

“Yeah.” He nods in the opposite direction. “I'm here with some friends.”

“You seem like you don't belong here either.” You tell him.

He can't contain his blush yet again and shrugs as though you saw right through him. “Big crowds aren't really my scene.” He pauses, slightly at ease by your statement. “Not yours either?”

You shake your head profusely, grinning as you fan yourself a bit with your hand. “Fuck no. I'm trying to fight the urge to get out of here.”

The corner of Kento's mouth twitches a little in sympathy. “I hear you on that.”

The silence lingers between you for a moment, but neither of you want the conversation to die just yet.

“I’d stay if I were you, since you probably spent a lot on a VIP ticket. I would imagine.’ He adds quickly, not trying to appear as though he was prying in his statement.

You throw your head back and laugh. “Uhm, I didn't, actually.” You lean in to divulge your secret. “Technically, I'm not really supposed to be in here, sooo…” You nod in the direction of security.

“Ha, me neither.” Kento confesses with a chuckle.

“Hey, I won't say anything if you don't.”

Kento looks down as you offer him your hand, blush appearing yet again on his face as he accepts in a clammy handshake. “Deal.”

The lights go out and deafening screams echo throughout the venue as fog fills the stage. The crowd surges forward and you and Kento cling onto each other as it sweeps you up like a treacherous wave. The drums pound in your ears as Helena starts to play.

You can't help the butterflies that erupt all over your body as you're thrust into Kento's space and he can't either. But, right now as the music plays, you figure you'll just blame the lack of distance between you on the crowd.

You both bob your heads as you sing every word. You sneak glances of one another every so often, looking over at him, carefree and the most bubbly state you've seen him in all night as the lyrics you both know and love tumble out like muscle memory, broadcasting that gorgeous elusive smile of his that he tried so hard to hide in the beginning.

He also looks over at you, lost in the music with your eyes closed, hands in the air as you move to the beat. You both might still be considered strangers, but he can't help but feel like whatever connection that was drawing you to him ran much deeper than just passing acquaintances at a concert. Even though you were shy, your disposition was sunny and kind, almost like someone he used to know.

You trade small talk where you can between songs. Slowly, you piece together that he's also in college, loves the same music as you do, although you both would much rather stay in the comfort of your rooms and not leave the house.

It's almost uncanny, you think to yourself when he reveals that he also adores reading, though he'd rather opt for historical fiction or classic literature as opposed to your preference for fantasy. Though, he hates to admit, some of the romance isn't all that bad.

About halfway through, your view gets a bit obstructed by some taller attendees that stand in front of you. Kento clears his throat, wondering if he should say something, his fists growing sweaty again as he wrestles with how to breach the silence.

“Oop, my bad.” You giggle and he goes breathless for a moment as you use him as a wall to lean against as you try to stand on tiptoe in vain.

“Need a boost?” He asks shyly, nodding in the direction of the stage.

Warmth spreads through your body when you realize what he's asking. “Oh no, no I couldn’t.”

“I insist.” He nods.

“I don't wanna crush you!” You mouth to him over another roar of the crowd.

“You won't.” He answers assuredly, scooping you closer without a second thought. He stands you in front of him, slotting you between his legs, letting you balance your heels on his feet as a built-in chair, enabling you to see much better from where he's standing.

For someone who was a bit lanky, he's actually quite solid, and he smells intoxicating, a new brand of electricity ebbing and flowing between you as you adjust to this closeness to each other in which your personal space has all but disappeared.

Kento's face burns with a fever, but it dissolves into relief when you're finally in his proximity. A feeling of protectiveness fills him from the warmth you emitted from standing so close, the very faint waft of your floral shampoo that still lingered in your hair.

“Hey!”

Dread seeps in both your expressions as you realize you're right next to security and not wearing VIP wristbands.

“Run.” You mutter to him and before you know it, you're darting through the crowd propelled by nothing but pure adrenaline and the impaired judgement of alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Oh shit!” Kento curses but has no option but to follow after you, his own adrenaline banishing all rational thoughts for the time being as you both bobbed, ducked, and weaved through the crowd like a sweaty obstacle course of chaos until you make it to the finish line.

“And don't come back!!” The head of security shouts as you make your great escape into the night.

You both stumble onto the street, panting and breathing heavily as your heartbeats slowly return to normal.

He looks at you and you can't help but burst into raucous laughter, holding your sides as you felt like they were being split open.

“What's so funny?” He huffs but he can't help his own fit of giggles that slowly overtake him. The sound of your laughter was funnier than the non-existent punchline, and soon you both have tears leaking out of your eyes and sore ab muscles as you laugh together in disbelief.

“I'm sorry.” You sigh, throwing your head back as you dab your eyes with the back of your hand. “I just, that shit was unbelievable… You should've seen the look on their face.”

“I didn't.” Kento scoffs ruffling his hair. “Because you practically yanked my fucking arm off.”

You seize in a fit of laughter again and he shakes his head.

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry.” You take a deep breath. “Really I am, cause I fucked up our night.”

“You think?” Kento asks you in mock disbelief.

“Okay, okay, now I really do feel bad.” You kick a pebble, trying to wrack your brain for ideas.

Kento shrugs. “It's alright, I guess.” He thinks for a moment then shrugs again. “Wouldn't be the worst night I've ever had.”

“Yeah, what was that?” You ask, curiosity piqued.

Kento pauses as he recalls his past night-outs gone wrong, but then lingers on the haunting memory of his true answer, cold walls of the morgue and a stale smell under his nose, a wet towel splayed across his forehead.

“Never mind, don't answer that.” You raise a hand as you sense his mind traveling somewhere far off, and he nods quickly in agreement, shaking himself out of that dark place.

“Hmmmmm…” you tap your chin as Kento retrieves a cigarette from his pocket, cursing when he can't find his lighter Suguru must have taken for the umpteenth time.

“Got a light?” He asks.

“Yeah I got you.” You take out a purple one from your bra cup, and Kento does his very best to ignore how warm it still was as you hand it to him.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” You reply with a thoughtful hum. “Well, there's always Fremont Street.”

Kento exhales a plume of smoke, and you do your best to hold his gaze, knees growing a little weak at how handsome he looked with the clouds of smoke around his honey eyes, cigarette balanced between two long, dexterous fingers.

“Fremont Street?”

“Yeah, I hear there's usually lots going on. We could wander, get some drinks. On me, of course, because I fucked up our concert.”

Kento shakes his head. “I can't ask you to spend money on me.”

“I insist! It's no big deal, really.” You state firmly, hoping he’d cave in. “Let me make this up to you so your trip to Vegas doesn't suck entirely.”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking around. Part of him was simply still in shock that someone as pretty as you took such an interest in someone as awkward and shy as him. Were you still tipsy from earlier?

“What about your friends?”

You sigh and shrug. “They'll be fine. To tell you the truth, they probably didn't even notice I was gone.”

Kento extinguished his cigarette against the side of the building, nodding in solemn solidarity before tossing it into a nearby receptacle. “Me neither, if I'm being honest.”

A part of your heart pangs a little with sadness at this revelation from him. How could anyone not find someone like him as a person they'd want to be around all the time? Besides, this whole situation was crazy and a little reckless, spending an evening in Vegas with some guy you barely know. But somehow, in its own odd, messed up, and chaotic way, it makes more sense to you than anything you've done on this entire trip.

“So, Fremont?”

That glimmer in your eye was so enticing, the spring breeze blowing wisps of your hair under the flashing neons. Was he really about to spend his last night in Vegas with some gorgeous stranger?

Well you know what they say: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

“Fremont it is.” He agrees with a hopeful smile.

—-

Fremont Street, like the rest of the city, is alive as ever.

Flashy animated graphics illuminate the ceiling of the street experience, with cartoon bunnies and brightly colored flowers dancing across it in a hypnotizing light show in the spirit of the incoming Easter holiday in America. People mosey past, many of them intoxicated, with boisterous laughter and drunken yells. Street performers line the open space: contortionists, musicians, magicians, and scantily clad show girls with almost nothing left to the imagination.

There are several stages playing live music, small audiences built up around them while some patrons hollered and raised their glasses from their patio tables of the numerous outdoor restaurants and bars, a mixture of tobacco,marijuana smoke, and opulent lights pouring out of the open casino doors on every corner.

You and Kento stand there, mouths agape, fascinated by the display as you observe and take it all in for a few moments. You spy a vendor who sells frozen fruity alcohol slushies that come in the outrageously tall plastic cups and your mouth waters.

“Want a drink?” You nudge Kento and he looks where you're focused, his eyes lighting up at the fruity concoctions.

“Y-Yeah, let's do it.”

—

Kento feels like a kid in a candy store as he walks the street with you, peering into the numerous gift shops as he sipped his piña colada and mango tequila slush with a curly straw as he watched you sip yours(paid for him despite your protestations), unknowingly endearing yourself to him by the minute as the slush turned your lips and tongue red.

It was a feeling of being carefree that he hadn't felt in so long, something he only got to experience in fleeting doses ever since he started school at Jujutsu High and he had to take on more responsibility than the average person at his age.

And that happiness became all but foreign to him ever since tragedy struck a few years ago and he had to eventually start college, barely moving forward while his mind still lingered in that dark space. But here, in the flashing city lights of Vegas, somehow you make it all vanish.

He's ripped out of his thoughts as you hold up matching I love Vegas hoodies.

“Can we get 'em, Ken, please?”

And who is he to say anything but yes to any silly, wild demand you make of him tonight?

Maybe except to going on the zipline.

—

“No way.” He shakes his head as you stand in front of the large marquee that read: “Slotzilla” in green letters. “There's no way that we're doing this.”

“You scared?” You ask him, voice playfully laced in a teasing taunt. The alcohol was working both of you into a pleasant buzz, but such a proposal was crazy enough to make even Kento think rationally for a moment.

“I'm not scared. I just think you're bluffing.” Kento folds his arms defensively.

“But it's Spring Break.” You answer, and you can't deny there's just a tiny shiver of fear that pulls at you as you look up at the riders flying by above your heads on the ceiling, taking in how high up you'd really be.

There's no denying the booze was turning you into a whole different main character tonight, but by God if you'll let anything else ruin this vacation for you after you fucked up the MCR concert for both you and Kento.

“I'm sure. C'mon, let's do it once, just so we can say that we did it and we'll never do it again.”

Kento swallows, keeping his eyes on the towering zipline.

“Together?” You ask, offering him your outstretched hand. His expression is reluctant at first but a grin of mischief spreads across his lips as he accepts his fate with a solemn sigh.

“Together.”

—-

“Allllright, you'll wanna stand right here where my foot is, yep, right there in front of the sign so we can take a picture of you and your girlfriend.”

The attraction worker moves Kento right next to you. Butterflies fill your stomach first as he wraps an arm around your waist, and his second when you lean into him with your hands on his chest, even more so when you don't correct the worker at all when she refers to you as Kento's girlfriend.

“Cuteeee!” The worker beams and snaps a photo of you, and you can't resist pulling one another even closer so your arms are wrapped around his neck and his hold around you is even tighter, with his chin leaning against your forehead as you posed for a few more shots.

Soon, you and him are bobbing in midair, lightly suspended over the platform in your respective harnesses, hands still intertwined as your hearts raced in mutual anticipation for the go ahead.

“Last chance to back out.” You grin, giving his hand a squeeze.

“No way. You wish.” Kento huffs returning with a squeeze of his own. “I'm all in.”

“Okayyy lovebirds, you're gonna have to let go of each other's hand for just a moment. I know, ugh.” The worker announces over the loudspeaker.

You both give each other bashful looks as you let go, and speed off down the ziplines.

The flashing lights blur past your vision as you become weightless, gliding and flying across the dome of Fremont Street, wind in your hair as the air of the nighttime floods your senses, a wave of adrenaline that bleeds into a fleeting glimpse of eternity as you watch Kento, beaming wildly with freedom as you two zip across the buzzing street below.

“I'm flying!!! Whooooo!!” You cheer with elation and Kento giggles beside you, going breathless for a moment, the cause he can't trace exactly to the adrenaline, or to how stunning you look in this moment, just like the one at the concert, where every answer to every question he's ever had somehow lies in those bewitching eyes, sealed permanently in your lips that bore solutions to his every problem.

As you both come to a halt and catch your breaths as you walk down the stairs and back onto the street, you can't help but feel closer than ever as you walk hand in hand, as though you've been doing this for ages long before tonight.

“I'm hungry.” You state as you both come to a stop in the middle of the street.

“Hmm…” Kento can't deny the rumble in his stomach either, his eyes perusing the choices available until they land on a neon orange sign. “How about some White Castle?”

“Yes pleaseee.” And he beams as you both follow the trail of the distant smell of fresh french fries.

—-

Soon you're sitting across from each other in the burger joint, splitting a sleeve of mini cheeseburger sliders and some freshly salted crinkle cut fries, feet touching under the table, sharing some more meaningful conversation about the latest anime you're both into, sipping sodas until you've eaten so much you can barely move.

—--

The night feels like it's winding down a bit, but the tension has only amped up to undeniable levels. It almost hangs in a cloud around your heads, as you walk to a less busy corner and stop to stand in front of one another, too afraid to confront the obvious question about how it would end.

“Well then.” You sigh and Kento puts his hands in his pockets, nervously fiddling with the pack of cigarettes. “I um…I should probably be getting back.”

Kento can't deny the wave of disappointment he feels, but he clears his throat in a weak effort to keep it from showing on his face.

“Yeah, of course.” It was foolish of him and kind of a douchebag move after all to assume you would want to go back to his hotel room, despite this accumulation of events tonight that makes him feel like he's known you for much longer.

“But, I could make a detour…” You give him a shy smile and he can't stop the disappointment from turning into obvious excitement on his face.

“Really?”

God, he was adorable without even trying.

“Of course.” You smile as the spaces between his fingers find their way between yours. “I'm okay with it if you are.”

Kento swallows. It's probably a horrible time to drop the very teensy but extremely important tidbit about him that he's actually a virgin. But, he doesn't want to let this opportunity to spend more time with you slip him by. The reality that you'd have to go back to your separate lives tomorrow was one that he'd just have to contend with in the morning.

“Definitely, let's go.”

—--

The Uber ride feels like an eternity as you sit in the backseat, thigh to thigh. The intoxication from the alcohol earlier has now been replaced with intoxication of the late hour, and the tensions that were at a boiling point and threatening to spill over with the implications of what would happen when you got to his hotel room.

His lips part softly, pretending to stare ahead as he realizes the circles you're drawing on his thigh are brushing dangerously closer to a spot he really wants them to go.

You lean in, pressing your lips to the vein in his neck as your pinky meets the inside of his thigh, and he has to clench his fists and bite back a sigh when you run the expanse of your palm over the outline where his cock throbs under the fabric.

He pulls you out of the Uber with an urgency you hadn't seen all night, a smirk on his lips as he leads you to the elevator, almost as though he was stirring up a plan for revenge for all the teasing you did in the backseat.

But, it seems you're both on the same page. As soon as the doors close, you pounce on one another immediately, a passionate meeting of lips and soft groans, and hands sneaking under clothes as you grabbed and stroked one another as though the closeness alone wasn’t enough to sustain you, and you had to consume one another to get some semblance of completeness.

The taste of his lips surpassed anything you could have expected. They were soft and messy, with just a bite of chill lingering on them from the cold of outside you just emerged from. His mouth is so addictingly sweet, a mixture of the tobacco he smoked, and the lingering pineapple and tequila as you kiss one another deeply in the ascending elevator.

You taste just as perfect, he thinks. Your lips are still laden with the subtle gleam from your chapstick, the sweetness from your drink intermingled with the promise of so many possibilities, like stepping into the sun after years of living in a world where it hid behind unmoving clouds of grey, the smoothness of your skin and how it seemed to melt into silk underneath his touch, his mind slowly going delirious until nothing but you occupied it, doing his best to use what little function he had left to take a mental picture he could retrieve at a later time before it slipped away from his grasp.

“Kento, put your hands on me…” you pant, bringing his hands higher up under your shirt until they reached your breasts.

“Oh God…”

He groans at this permission as he feels your nipples harden and pebble. He watches your back arch responsively to his own doing, almost going faint from the heat of it all whose intensity that he had never encountered before, before he goes back to concentrating on kissing you while carefully kneading your breasts.

You notice the walls of the elevator are mirrors, and you feel your descent into lustful arousal needlessly deepen as you open your eyes intermittently during this heated makeout session, observing how far gone he was to the throes passion with his eyes closed and a look of pleasure spreading quickly across his face, this normally shy and quiet guy you met hours earlier as he allowed you to peel back all his layers, revealing how pent up and aching for you he really was.

The doors open with a ding and you almost topple over on each other when a stunned older couple is standing there, shell-shocked. The shade of red he turns is deeper than a tomato, and you both sweat profusely, doing your best to revert to normal, though both of your disheveled appearances aren't fooling anyone.

The woman is clutching her pearls, averting her eyes with a disapproving tsk of her teeth and grumbling under her breath. The man gives Kento a sneaky pat on the back and a thumbs up as they shuffle into the elevator and close the doors behind them.

“What just happened?” You ask, out of breath as you make the walk of shame hand in hand down the hall to Kento's hotel room.

Kento dismisses the humiliation of the incident that was still fresh in his mind, and he wraps an arm around your waist, turning a bright shade of cherry yet again. “Umm, let's just forget about it.”

“Good idea.” You chuckle.

—

You splash a bit of water on your face, staring at yourself in the fluorescents of the hotel bathroom while he waits outside.

You tapped your fingers on the granite countertop, shaking your head as you stressed over your hair, a bit mortified that you were in this less than ideal state for the majority of the evening, trying your best to fix it.

Somehow, you could deal with your fears of being in public, talking to this handsome stranger, yeeting yourself across a zipline over a hundred feet in the air, and making out with him in an elevator. But ironically, this was by far the scariest thing you were up against all night long.

Finally, you gain some semblance of a grip, and take a deep breath.

“Don't be a coward.” You mutter to yourself as you slowly consolidate whatever scrape of bravery remains.

—-

Kento bounces his knee, staring at his faint reflection in the black TV screen, almost jumping when you open the door.

You ditched your jacket, he notices, as you slowly make your way towards him, the shadows of your curves being hugged in all the right places in the dim light of the lamp on his nightstand. He swallows as he lets his eyes roam, mouth watering as his lips long to be on yours again.

“Hi.” You smile timidly, coming to a stop in front of him, standing between his thighs where he's sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hello.”

His Adam's apple bobs as he cranes his head slightly to gaze up at you, tingles of warmth erupting on both your cheeks as you cup his face, those liquid pools of hazy amber with the power to submerge you from a simple glance. His hands tremble, a little uncertain as he brings them to your waist, already going a little numb at the feel of your softness he got just a glimpse of earlier.

“You can touch me, Kento.” You reassure him and his eyelids droop, his breath shuddering as you run your hands along his chest. “Can I touch you?” You check in with him, emotion welling inside his heart when you give him the sweetest kiss on the forehead.

“Course you can.” He answers softly, giving you a smile. You gaze down at him as you run your fingers through his hair, gently massaging the back of his neck, a hint of hesitation you can't help but notice still hangs between you.

“Are you sure?” You ask, leaning your forehead against his, as if to soak up any worries that were brewing in his mind. “You seem hesitant.”

Kento sighs, a bit of shame filling him. It's almost spooky, how well you can see through him. He silently dreads the truth that he knows he needs to come clean about, knowing there's a possibility he might lose you tonight before he even had a chance, not that he'd blame you one bit for backing out.

“Um, it's just that…I'm a virgin.” He says quietly.

You sit there for a moment in disbelief, taking a moment to process his words. “Really?”

Kento nods, the silence a bit unbearable as he holds his breath, unable to discern what you were thinking.

“Hey, that's okay it's just…”

He braces himself for the worst, averting his gaze to a spot on the carpet.

“Hey, it's perfectly fine.” You answer, turning his chin to look at you, your heartstrings tugging in response to his weary expression. You can sense the weight of the effort it took him to be vulnerable with you in this moment, something you won't take for granted. The implication of grave responsibility on your part in response to this new information is a lot to take in, but for him, you'll do your very best to rise to the occasion.

“That doesn't bother me at all, Kento. I just want to make sure that you're sure about all this. We don't need to have sex. But if we do, then I want to make sure that you're a hundred percent comfortable, and we can stop at any time.”

Relief floods inside of him like heavy rain, his heart immediately growing much lighter in his chest.

“I'm positive.” He gives you a reassuring grin. “I have protection too, just in case.” He blushes a little, all the anxiety quickly giving way to arousal at what was to come next.

“That sounds perfect...” You lean in and kiss him, the soft smack of your lips echoing in the empty space. You hold your face close to his, hearing him inhale softly as your lips linger closely together, not wanting to part just yet.

He makes the next move, leaning back in and capturing them again, his hand finding residence on the back of your neck. All bets are off now as you take that as permission to deepen the kiss, albeit slowly as you don't want to rush perfection, letting him soak in and experience his first time the way it was meant to be: tender and meaningful.

“Help me?” You gesture to your clothes. Your doe eyed expression sends him reeling, your lovely pout with wetted lips, the built up warmth between you only made the natural glow of your skin stand out even more like it was matter from displaced stars in the scarce light. The number of times you've rendered him speechless is practically innumerable by this point, but he nods earnestly again, not allowing himself to be derailed from his mission.

“Of course.”

The act of undressing you is slow, and a little shaky on Kento's part, but still every bit as sweet. You shudder a little as he gently peels your shirt from your body, entranced as your hair spills out of the opening, your bare breasts bouncing free from the cups of cloth in a hypnotic sway.

You can't remember the last time someone took their time with you like this. Hands that were usually impatient were replaced by his: tentative and nervous, but sweet in a way that was uniquely his own. Eyes that would devour you like a piece of meat with little regard to the soul underneath your exterior were replaced with the caring chestnut of his. His gaze was chaste, but only sensual when you allowed him to be. He looks at you like you were a piece of art to be appreciated first and foremost, and explored only second. From the invisible halo over your head, to your shoulders, to your breasts, to every curve and dimple that flowed to your voluptuous hips, now presented completely bare before him.

It's all you can do before your lips are immediately on his again with a newfound hunger, more strained under the building weight of passion you longed to burn inside this room together.

“Kento…” You whisper his name as your lips work their way away from his, leaving kisses in a heated path starting on the corner of his lips, to the juncture underneath his sharp jaw, and his throat that thrummed as your name left his lips in heady abandon.

He practically whimpers, his cheeks painted in that dusty pink you’ve come to adore so much on him. He was slightly embarrassed at how pathetic the sound was, but a low groan rumbles from the center of his chest, and his thumb grazes tenderly over the point of your chin when you don't seem to give a damn. If anything, you're even more aroused from his pleasure which is just as good as your own as you begin to slink lower down his body.

“Can I?” You purr as your hands pause at the studded belt buckle.

“Go right ahead.” His mind temporarily factory resets as he feels it unravel through the loops, the sound alone adding fuel to his fire as he scoots back a little more on the bed to allow you to straddle him, sliding his jeans down his long legs.

He's so hard in his boxers, and this preview of his size in just his underwear sends immediate warmth to your core. He blushes and can't help the feeling of self consciousness creep up on him as your eyes rake over him, wondering how on Earth all of him will fit if your eyes really weren't playing tricks on you.

Once he helps you strip away the confines of boxers, your suspicions are reaffirmed as his large erection bounces free, uncut and heavy, the tip a darker shade of pink than the one that so often showed up on his cheeks.

Despite his obvious well-endowment, the sight of him naked, laying there like a god, hairy in all the right places, a divine masterpiece of lean muscle with an even more dazzling soul underneath, didn't even begin to scrape the surface of wonderful things about him.

“You can touch, i-if you want…” Kento prays that he doesn't come off as perverted from this statement. Intimate touches like yours were a foreign concept to him. But, still he couldn't evade his desires and would often daydream about what such an experience would be like. It's all so surreal in this moment that might be coming true tonight.

“I'd love to.” You whisper, pulling another melody of moans out of him as you stroke. He's incredibly warm and responsive as he pulses and twitches in your hand, the evidence barely concealed in a blooming trail of precum flowing from the slit, coating your palm.

“But let me take care of you too.” He whispers sheepishly. “To be honest…I, I dunno if I'm gonna last so, s-so I wanna do what I can to make sure you get taken care of too…”

His honesty is endearing, and you can't deny that the pornographic image that his words conjured up in your mind is a deeply arousing one.

“You want me on top?” Your tone is sultry and the effect your mere words have on him are very apparent as his cock throbs again, leaking another bead of pearlescent precum from the bulky tip of his cock and drooling all over your fingers.

“Yeah…I mean, yes please.” Kento’s heart rate begins to accelerate, breath becoming irregular before it departs his lungs when a literal goddess is now on top of him, your juicy ass and glistening pussy spread to his hungry gaze.

He is equal parts enthralled and impossibly turned on as he gazes at the lewd sight in front of his face, followed by a low stirring of pride to his ego, knowing from the presence of your shiny slick that he could have that kind of effect on you.

It's an experience that almost borders on religion for him as he marvels in silent worship what you're so willingly offering to him in this precious moment.

“You're perfect…” He mumbles, as all other words seem to fail him at this time. Despite your numerous assurances, he still hesitates.

“And…I can touch, too?” He asks gently, swallowing a lump that he didn't realize had built in his throat, hands hovering over the globes of your ass.

“Yes, baby. I want you to.” You coo as you situate your mouth over his cock, pressing a dainty kiss to his tip that ripples in chills all over his body. Your first use of a pet name for him almost wrecked him on the spot. Getting used to the idea of being desired by someone was a concept he still had a long way to grasp. You can sense it, and right now, you want to do everything you can to make him utterly drown in it.

“Still okay?” You check in with him and he nods. You lean down, pressing little kisses in a circle around his tip, sticking out your tongue to caress and lick near his slit before you take him in your mouth.

The next moan that Kento makes is downright sexy, low and breathy as the plush, silky inside of your mouth swallows him whole.

“Fuck…me…”

Somehow, heaven for him appears just around the corner, his resolve crumbling exponentially every second that passes, his long fingers bruising into the soft flesh of your ass. It exceeded anything he could have expected, and he can only imagine how warm and perfect your pussy must feel if this delectable sensation was only from your mouth.

You lick and massage all along the forest of veins that run vertically along his cock before wrapping your entire mouth around his tip and bobbing your head in a rhythmic pattern, making sure you're not neglecting his heavy balls and the underside of his shaft you goad with your free hand, using the slick mess of drool and precum to keep him nice and wet.

He begins with slow, careful kitten licks to your syrupy folds, eager to deliver on his promise he made to you, before he lengthens his strokes and makes them more relaxed as he delves deeper into your drooling cunt, exploring the folds and crevices of your velvety warmth, wincing and groaning as he feels his balls tighten as his release creeps up on him even faster, his low husky sounds causing you to drip and leak more creamy nectar onto his tongue.

You feed off one another’s energy in lewd exchange, the more he savors your dripping cunt in prolonged fervid strokes of his tongue, the deeper you try and take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you suckle and swirl your soft tongue over every inch of him you can reach, relishing the tang from the wafts of his natural scent from his pubes.

“Shit..shit, I'm gonna…” His stomach muscles tighten, unable to hold back his release for much longer.

He decides to do something he saw in porn, using his fingers to rub and circle over your warm clit, alternating using his other fingers and tongue to fuck you. You stop dead in your tracks and moan like a siren, your rousing gasps intoxicatingly angelic.

“Ken…”

There was no way a guy as inexperienced as him could be so damn good at this on the first try. But then again, he was full of surprises as you came to discover tonight, this one being no different.

He's patient and a speedy learner, something you pick up on as he focuses on just you for the time being, curling his tongue in just the right squishy spot inside you, inhaling deep breaths of your slick as your honey coats his jaw and chin, your cunt clenching tightly and leaking more juices with every careful flick of his tongue and massage of his fingers on your clit.

“Cum for me.” He mutters and only seconds pass until you do, and your beautiful climax is the straw that breaks him, hot cum dribbling in warm trickles down his thighs.

He seizes up when he feels your smooth mouth envelop him again, practically dissolving into a fit of twitches as you lick him up, cleaning up the milky gloss and swallowing him down your throat.

He leans in and does his best to clean you up too, his tongue tracing in warm trails between your inner thighs, collecting and slurping your juices into his mouth.

You roll off one another in a shaky mess and he stumbles to the bathroom, returning with a few fluffy towels as you help one another wipe up.

—-

You're underneath the covers now tucked against his chest. You can measure the slow, calming thrums of his heartbeat where your head is resting, a cozy feeling settling inside both of your bellies as this eventful evening draws closer to a close.

“Stay the night?” He asks, fingers dancing featherlight across the smooth skin of your shoulder.

“Absolutely.” You respond, turning to him and pouting your lips.

He smiles as he leans in to fulfill your request, giving you an adorable peck that lingers, once again begging to be more. He was tired, but now he figures he's got another good half hour or so in him if you're not opposed.

You take the lead, opening your lips and depositing the softest of moans into his open mouth that drip with sinful implications. He gets the message immediately as he rolls on top of you. The weight of his body, careful not to crush you and feeling of his cock lengthening and pressing against your belly makes you widen your thighs to welcome him, his tip oozing again already as you softly run the bottoms of your feet up and down his calves.

“Do you still want to try?” You gaze up at him from where he's positioned, long bangs falling in his face as he leans over you, caramel eyes somehow even softer in this moment if such a thing was even possible.

“I…I do. But only if you do.” He answers.

“I do.” You nod before puckering for one more kiss. He can't help his smile as he leans in again, the simple gesture feels awfully domestic, a simple demonstration of how comfortable you became with one another.

You bite your lip as he carefully slides the condom over his swollen length, taking the liberty of helping him out by playing with your pussy while you watch him in a trance, taking note of the smallest things about him: the tendons flexing in his arms, the spotting of freckles across his shoulder, the meat of his thighs, his strength that was ever present that made him look so majestic, so beautiful in this intimate setting despite his lean frame and dark clothes he had on earlier that concealed it. All of him, every inch of his beauty was plain as day as you inhaled him like the purest oxygen.

—

“Kento…”

He begins to push the tip of his cock into you, cradling your head in his hands.

“You okay?” He murmurs, the fog of lust was intoxicating, but not strong enough to not check on you, particularly after he knew it was a struggle for you to take all of him.

“I'm…perfect…” You whisper before your breaths bleed onto his lips in another stolen kiss.

“Fuck, you're good, so good… I'm gonna…gonna start moving…”

He mumbles haphazard words of praise as his body ripples slowly against you in a gentle dance. Both of you are long gone as you settle on a tempo together, hands intertwining against the mattress, cementing the memory of your hair and the way it looked against his pillow, that inimitable glint in your eyes like no other he's seen at the very moment you became one.

Time is a concept, a pest, a nuisance that has its place in the dreaded morning that you both pray never arrives. The things that currently matter inside this cocoon of warmth between you is pure carnality, absolution in the tender pace of his thrusts, euphoric release that fans the flames at the base of your spines as you stretch and clench warmly around him, his thumb thrumming in infinite circles on your clit to open you up even more when you struggle to take him, amorous moans and endless spilling of the others name, this piece of himself willingly, permanently, and hopefully entrusted to you.

“Gonna cum...”

His salty ropes eventually dribble into a final act of undressing his soul, filling the barrier between you, your cries swallowed into the hollow of his neck.

—--

The sun springs itself onto you without warning.

You sit straight up in a frenzy, heart sinking to your chest when you notice that the hour said you only had 30 minutes until you needed to leave for the airport, and had over 10 missed calls from your friends.

You dart around the room, cursing and seething the time that pulled the rug out from under you. Robbing you of the slow moments you were supposed to share with him this morning until there was nothing left, and you had no option but to leave him stranded.

You look at him when you're fully dressed, peacefully still asleep, trying to stifle the overwhelming sadness when the harsh pain of the cruel reality of living on opposite ends of the world becomes too much to bear.

As a final act of desperation, you jot your phone number on a stray piece of paper, folding it and leaving it on the desk.

You can't bear to look at him one more time, not noticing the wind from the closing door behind you sweeps the paper under the desk and out of view.

—----

He had never been in love, but somehow within the span of one night you brought him the closest to feeling it that he's ever been, while simultaneously depriving him of it in the same breath.

Sadness stings in Kento's chest as he sits on that long flight home, doing his best to hold back any tears as he replays the memory of you, which for now you'll remain, before it gives way to bittersweet gratitude. Whispering a silent “thank you” which he only hopes can reach you some way, wherever you are now.

He was grateful he was lucky enough to experience it, even if it was never meant to stay.

What happens in Vegas, stays there after all.

—-----

Years later-Japan

This bar that Shoko recommended is far too loud, but the drinks are fairly decent.

You tap your foot impatiently, staring at the clock on the wall that seemed to stay in place, taking out your phone to check the time as though that would make any difference.

Agreeing to a blind date felt so…juvenile. Almost desperate, even. Love was something you put on the back burner when negative experience after another slowly turned you off to the idea of it entirely.

But, there were good ones that were few and far between that had you holding out hope. Enough remained that led you to agree to this silly date, after all.

But you didn't like to linger on those memories, one in particular that was approaching the 10 year mark during one spring vacation in Vegas. Every now and then, you'll allow your self-restraint to slip and you'll daydream about that blonde man. The kind of lover you meet that's too perfect, that's almost doomed for failure because everything about him was too good to be true and too idealistic to fit into the ugly reality of a long term commitment.

You recall the tears you cried over him and the haunting of the phone call that never arrived. But, you made peace with the ending a long time ago, chalking it up to an isolated experience that was never meant to be long lasting. He didn’t owe you anything after that night, that, looking back, was honestly blurred with bad decisions.

It wouldn't have been practical in either case. Between you both starting college in opposite corners of the globe, you were only barely sticking your toes into the real world that you soon would learn was cruel, cold, and could spit you out as quickly as it swallowed you up.

You should be grateful you even had the opportunity to meet someone like him. Some happiness was better than none, no matter how much you wished at the time that things were different.

And, without even trying, you subconsciously looked for him in every person you saw, but it never came close to that first strike of lighting.

Sure, there were other storms, other wonderful people you met along the way that ignited feelings and taught you lessons, but none quite like him.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, recognizing you're being led by the alcohol in this moment, setting yourself in the opposite direction before you're too far gone, knowing it would be unfair to your incoming mystery date to dwell on loves of your past that need to remain that way.

—---

Kento does his best to stifle his thoughts as he preoccupies himself with his tie, over and through, secured in his usual knot. Routine and order as always, a mere shadow of the young man he once was a long time ago.

He checks the time on the Heuer watch adorning his left wrist, marred in pink scars that peek from underneath his navy dress shirt layered under his tan suit coat. He still has plenty of time, just as he planned. He sighs and looks at himself in the mirror, thoughts somewhere far away as he ponders the true meaning of what exactly he agreed to tonight that was so unlike him.

Was he facing the onset of an early mid-life crisis? Was he in denial about how lonely he really was, causing himself to make decisions uncharacteristic of him in the name of finding some semblance of humanity after going down fruitless paths, chasing aloof ideals like money and honor that left him more hollow than before?

Maybe he was reverting to old patterns, like when he ran away from the world of jujutsu and tried to force himself into a societal standard that was never meant for him?

He can't play mind games with himself like this.

Whether the task at hand was a mission, or something as frivolous as a blind date like tonight, his way of reframing his perspective and focusing on the present moment came into full play.

He nods and studies himself one more time, gaze shifting to where an eye patch now covers where his left eye used to reside, before he turns and walks down the hallway, the quiet click of the door closing behind him.

—---

You had arrived a half hour early, because you knew the only other option for you was arriving a half hour late.

The gentleman you were supposed to meet, according to Shoko, had a preference for punctuality and order. In all honesty, you were probably his worst nightmare in that regard.

Your anxiety about the situation continued to nag you the longer you stayed seated amidst the chatter and bustle of the bar. You bounced your knee, once again daydreaming about curling up in bed and forgoing this ridiculous date altogether.

Just as you're about to bail, he walks in.

The same piece of Earth hit in perfect succession as no coincidence of nature. That formidable force statistically at odds to repeat itself, unfolding before your very eyes as he approaches.

You would not recognize him under normal circumstances. The left side of him has undergone some changes that rattle you to your core as you realize their extent.

His left eye is missing, now concealed behind a black eyepatch. The skin underneath is mangled and pink, but faded in such a way that would suggest that some time had passed since he received them. He walks proudly with a slight limp, an air of propriety and confidence he exudes that's both attractive and extremely jarring in contrast to the shy and insecure version of him you once knew.

It's clear as he takes your hand in his that the old Kento is long gone, but that space in your heart that he latently occupied ever since that night came bubbling, unscathed to the surface.

A night just like tonight, so similar to one you encountered him years earlier. He undergoes the same reel of emotions that zip through him like lightning. The unmistakable hue of your eyes that gripped him the moment he saw them and knew he needed to walk away that night with more than just your name. The promise of your kiss, the way that freedom ran in your hair that decorated his sheets. That happiness he thought was permanently out of his reach that you managed to restore in him that night, leaving him with hope if not anything else.

A face you knew once, intimately, similar, but the full weight of the time that had passed between you slowly became realized the longer you stare at one another, almost like he’s brand new.

A moment back then that was just like this one. A second strike of lighting landing directly in the same spot.

“Hello, my name is Kento Nanami.” He greets you nonetheless in ritual decorum that was instilled in his foundation. His voice is slightly deeper than before, a sign of the mature man he grew into from his twenties.

“Do you remember me?” You ask, trying not to make your tone sound emotional as you feel like you're speaking to the ghost of not quite someone you used to know.

“I do.” He answers honestly, possibly the faint glimmer of a fond look he gives you in the subtle crinkle of the crows feet by his eyes.

Both of you sit in silence while the bar around you carries on, him emerging from it momentarily to order his drink: whiskey on the rocks. You note that his preferences have also changed, hardly believing they belonged to this man who once sipped a fruity cocktail slush with you on the Las Vegas strip.

You ride a bitter tide of emotions, bearing a mixture of sadness, resentment, bitterness, and nostalgia.

Why did he never call?

Instead, you ask him, “How have you been?”

He almost scoffs, as such a simple question requires such a complex answer from him. He keeps it casual for now.

“I've been well. What brings you to Japan?”

“You know Shoko?”

He pauses, slightly confused at how this is relevant, but answers your question nonetheless. “Yes, I do know Shoko.”

“And she…she set me-us, up on this date.”

“That’s how it would appear.” He sips his drink.

You stare, confounded at him, a bit miffed at how…nonchalant he was about the entire situation. But a part of you also was slightly relieved that he didn't make it as awkward as it needed to be.

You narrow your eyes. “Are…you using sarcasm?”

“I'm not, I'm merely agreeing with your observation.” He raises a brow as he looks at you. He seems genuine and you blink, a little embarrassed now at your question that you hoped didn't come across as an attack.

“Sorry, I- it's just. There's just so many memories, and I'm still in disbelief if I'm honest with you.” You shake your head as you take another generous sip of your cocktail.

He sits in silence as he observes you out of the corner of his good eye, slightly bemused as it seems some things about you haven't quite changed.

“It's alright.” He answers. “It's quite a lot for me to take in as well.”

“Is it?”

“Well, yes. You're not exactly who I imagined running into here tonight.”

“Mm, then who did you imagine?”

He side-eyes you and you roll your eyes in response, much to his quiet amusement.

“Actually, please don't answer that.”

“I figured as much.” He hums and he leans back a little, and cocks his head while you're not looking. Your charm was certainly one of the things about you he missed. And this bite you possessed was something rather new.

“You know, I enjoy this bar quite a bit, but there's a quieter spot I know of that we could go to, if you're up for it.”

You pause, getting used to this initiative from him that you're experiencing for the very first time. His suggestion is a very welcome one, you can't deny and you nod.

“Very well.”

“Splendid.” He stands, allowing you to pass in front of him first, leaving the cost of both your tabs on the bar as he follows you onto the street.

------

The vinyl shop is nearly deserted as you enter, much to both yours and his relief. It's a pleasant surprise as you take in your new location, the premise of a record store telling you that there were things about him that stayed the same after all, taking you back to that night as one of the things you bonded over.

“This is nice.” You muse, eyes coasting over the abundance of albums available to peruse.

He nods in agreement, also satisfied that you're pleased with his suggestion. “It is. This one has a better selection than most I've been to.”

You browse, occasionally aware of his hand nearly brushing as you pass him in opposite aisles, enjoying the mutual silence as he gives you a moment to recharge and explore the selection of artists since it's your first visit.

There's two elephants in the room, and neither will be easy to address. You still feel burned by him. But, if this was going to be a meaningful attempt at a new start of your relationship, then beginning it from a place of honesty seemed like a reasonable thing to ask of him.

“What happened to you?” You ask gently.

He looks at you. Questions about his looks used to bother him in the very beginning when they were still fresh. After years of healing, both physically and emotionally(which he would argue was the most difficult to recover from out of the two), he's taken emotion out of the equation. And in your case, given the intimate history between you two, despite it occurring almost a decade ago, he recognizes it's a reasonable thing for you to ask.

“Asking the hard hitting questions already?”

You turn your head quickly, a little horrified in case you offended him already, but the look on his face makes you sigh in relief when you realize he was being playful.

“No, I'm-”

“It's alright.” He reassures, resuming your walk along the aisles, putting his hands in his pockets. “For another time, though.” He promises you, and you nod in complete understanding.

“Of course.”

There is more, so much more to him now that he must have experienced that you can conclude from just his appearance alone. But, you understand that such an in-depth unraveling of him will need to take place in steps. You're at a loss of where to even begin. But, another issue begs both your attention.

“Do you have another one for me?” He prods.

“Yes, actually.” You state cautiously, doing your best to make your tone even, before you rip off the bandaid.

“Why didn't you call?”

He exhales softly through his nose as you continue your slow walk. “I wanted to.”

“But?”

“But you left me.”

You stopped, confused as you try to suppress your long buried anger that was attempting to resurface.

“No…” You correct him. “You left me.”

He experiences a bit of frustration as well. It was an old forgotten fling, after all, but delving with you headfirst into the source of your connection going cold overnight digs up all of those old, forgotten feelings of hurt, particularly over something that happened in his early twenties, it feels so childish, a fact he really doesn't appreciate.

“I recall the opposite.” He rebuffs, keeping himself calm.

“Well, I do too. So it seems we're at an impasse.”

“It would seem very much so.”

You pause together in stalemate, lost in the tangled mess of all things you long to say with no idea of how to say them. He recognizes you're emotional, and you sense the same from him. But despite the emotional charge behind your conversation, neither of you pick up on hostility from the other. Taking a moment to recognize that a passionate and short lived affair from your twenties ended badly for both of you, leaving a scar with no resolution, and now both of you simply want to use this rare opportunity to gain some closure if nothing else transpires from your meeting tonight.

“Please.” He gestures patiently. “You first.”

“I left you my number, and you never called.”

Kento raises his eyebrows. “I don't recall that.”

“Well, I did.”

“When?”

You scoff, a little frustrated by something that seemed so obvious. “On your desk! At the hotel right before I left! You were still asleep.”

Kento nods slowly, beginning to understand, “This…changes things.”

“What do you mean?” You respond, puzzled.

“Why didn't you wake me up?” He counters with a question of his own, leaning against a shelf.

“I didn't want to disturb you.” You look down meekly, the memory coming back to you all at once, including the rather intimate happenings that unfolded that night.

Kento remembers it too, similar feelings of warmth cascading throughout his body at the sensual recollection that would have made his younger self blush profusely.

“Well, I can assure you wholeheartedly, I did not get your message after you left. I was actually under the impression that you abandoned me, for some reason or another.” He shakes his head.

“I'm sorry.” You apologize softly, eyes full of regret.

“No need.” He replies firmly. “We were young, it was a misunderstanding. There's no harm done.”

“No harm done.” You echo with a hum.

“Precisely.”

Silence.

“Well.”

“Well?”

“Can we start over?”

He smiles, the first genuine one he's given you all night. “I'd like that.”

You both grin in mutual elation, slightly lost at first at how to transition into this fresh beginning.

“So.” You wrack your brain for ideas, meandering over to the section alphabetized, “M.”

“Do you still listen to MCR?”

He nods, offering you another closed lipped smile. “Every so often.”

“Really?” You finger through the vinyls, landing on Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. “Do you have this one?”

“I do, actually.” He muses, an idea popping into his head. “Why don't we get you started on your own collection?”

You shake your head quickly, stowing the vinyl back like it was on fire. “Oh, no. Kento, no, I really shouldn't…”

“I insist.” He glides next to you, retrieving it with a hum as he examines it before stowing it under his arm, moving on in search of the latest album from Modest Mouse.

And you can't help but accept defeat with an affectionate shake of your head. Definitely one of the things you remember about him that hadn't changed.

There was no winning when it came to debates over him doing you favors. So, in the spirit of starting fresh, you'd let him have this one for now.

—--

You stand outside of the vinyl shop, a new connection born between you, lots of old feelings mixed in with apprehension, yet hope for the future.

He studies you under the light from the city streets, noticing you're every bit as beautiful as the night he found you and lost you all at once.

He longs to close the space between you, reunite with what he had missed out on for so long that he was certain he'd never taste again, brought back to him by sheer coincidence, a gift of fate.

But, unlike last time, he knows he can't repeat his mistakes. And though you long to just as badly, you know you can't, either.

Instead, he sweeps you into a warm embrace. He smells different than you remember, but this new scent is every bit as intoxicating as the old one.

You stay like that, wrapped up in each other for the longest time, buying back some of it that had been robbed between you. This hug was the physical apology you owed to one another for everything that happened in the old chapter, and the cornerstone you needed to pass over into the new.

When you part ways, he doesn't allow his gaze to drift from you until he ensures you're safely aboard your bus, watching until it rounds the corner before he ventures in the opposite direction, mind full of you he has no plans to clear anytime soon.

And, just like that, lightning does strike twice. The clouds of the storm have receded to sunny skies, a rainbow of hope glimmering on the horizon.

He smiles as he walks away, your number tucked neatly in his breast pocket.

This time, he'll make sure he doesn't lose it.

---

[ariadnehelx]

— LESSONS IN LOVE.

pairings, alhaitham x gn!reader, college au.

summary, one particular study session with your crush was all it took for you to realize he might feel the same way about you. 1.1k words.

content, reader being a tease, alhaitham blushing, fluff.

There was a strange, unfamiliar silence between you two today. Not that Alhaitham was a particularly chatty person, but it was you who had a habit of chirping in his ear all the time. He was often amazed at how productive his tutoring sessions with you were, considering how distracted you were. Talking constantly.

He didn’t mind being your tutor. In fact, he even enjoyed it. He was surprisingly patient, you’d heard, and a very excellent tutor. So when your college assigned him as your tutor, he’d expected another dull and uninterested student. Which you were, he had to admit.

But there was undeniably something about you that had him drawn to you. Whether it be the way you’d push yourself past your limits, surprising him when you were able to answer exam questions with ease after struggling for the longest time, or staying in the library late to finish your assignments. More so your charming personality, how funny you were… You always captivated him.

So, you became friends with him. It was you who initiated conversations, not because he didn’t want to talk with you, he just… couldn’t quite place the turmoil of emotions brewing within him like an unforgiving storm, growing even more blustery each time he saw you. Denying what he thought he felt.

Today, he wanted to get through the material like he would with any other student that wasn’t you. No talking; questions and guidance if something didn’t wrap around your head. He didn’t rise to the bait whenever you made fun of him. Didn’t suppress his small smiles whenever you routinely thanked him for his help, because today he didn’t smile at you at all. Would there even be one second today where the two of you would meet each other’s eyes? Wait, now that you thought about it, there were surely quite a few more textbooks he brought than usual—

After a few more minutes of silence, while you completed another worksheet, you noticed that you could feel his intense gaze linger on you. 

“You've been around Kaveh a lot more recently, [Name].” He muttered. It wasn’t a question, and not a statement either. A simple observation. He’d hoped you hadn’t noticed the sharp edge in his voice as he spoke. 

You looked up, letting out an oblivious laugh. “Oh, I have been, haven’t I?” At first, you didn’t think much of what he’d said, smiling playfully at him. But then you caught his eyes narrowing, as if in curiosity, almost—and maybe something else you couldn’t quite name— still, even now, looking anywhere but at you. “How’d you know? Did he tell you?”

Not exactly, Alhaitham thought. It’d been a rumour circling around the campus for a few days, he’d heard about you and Kaveh walking around and dropping each other off to your classes, sometimes making the occasional plan to go out for a coffee. It was the truth. But in your eyes, what you and Kaveh had was platonic, and you were certain that Kaveh saw things the same way you did. Although, to anyone else, it did seem like you two had a little romance blooming between the two of you. He didn’t try to respond, thinking about this.

The stillness stretched on for longer. You considered if what you wanted to ask would make him uncomfortable. Bit your lip. And ultimately chose to ask him. “What’s it to you, ‘Haitham?”

He clearly hadn’t expected you to raise such a question. For the first time in a while, he glanced up at you, hiding the surprise in his eyes. Knowing that he just couldn’t tell you how he felt about you, because, quite frankly, he didn’t even know what the fluttering in his chest meant himself. And he certainly didn’t know that the feeling was mutual.

“I didn’t like it.” Straightforward as he could be, as always. That’s how he’d always been, you supposed. Now, it was your turn to feel the strange beating of your heart, beating like a drum.

“And… why not?” Steadying your voice, because certainly, his claim had you flustered. Maybe the heat on your face was noticeable. Your studying session had long since paused. A few beats of silence passed, beats rhythmic with your own heartbeat, and, unknowingly, his, too. 

Again with the silence. He didn’t want to answer, this much was clear. He only stared at you. Staring, as if in a trance, so much that you couldn’t help but to meet his own intense gaze. There was no way to understand what he was thinking. His gaze never left your own, and suddenly you began to notice little things about him you’d never thought about before.

The way the early evening glow of sunlight highlighted the contours of his face, radiated off the light turquoise of his eyes, making them glitter in the dimness of the library. The way his usually stoic and reserved facade was now crumbling. The way the tips of his ears were tinged with a rosy pink. That was cute, you couldn’t lie. Not something you’d quite expect from a man like Alhaitham.

“...He doesn’t deserve you. You shouldn’t be with him.” Oh.

“What?” So that’s what happened. He thought, as most students here had also, that you might’ve fallen for Kaveh. An interesting thought, in its own way; but it couldn’t be farther from reality. 

Now he had turned his head away completely. “And who are you to tell me who I can and cannot date?” you mumbled. Not that you were trying to win Kaveh’s affections, but the idea that Alhaitham was telling what you could and could not do rubbed you the wrong way, evidently. But then an idea sprouted in your mind.

“Surely you’re not… jealous, are you?” Alhaitham was all-too-familiar with that honeyed tone, the one you used whenever you teased him. He turned his head around.

“Be quiet and do your work.” He tried to change the subject, tried to put up that stoic facade he could never put up with you around, tried to get you back on track, but now, you had other plans. 

“ ‘Haitham~! You don’t like the idea of me and Kaveh being together?” Alhaitham’s silence seemed ordinary by this point. “ ‘Haitham, did you know that your ears are really red!!” As if on cue, his ears became impossible redder. “Alhaitham~!!” Although outwardly it seemed like you took pleasure in embarrassing him, inwardly you couldn’t help but think that he looked so strangely cute like that, red ears, averting gaze from you.

“Shut up.” And, inwardly, he liked that you always teased him as much you did.

for my best friend <3.

[rositaslabyrinth]

Oblivious - Ruby

Ruby x female!reader

Ruby’s patience is running thin. She’s been dropping hints, slipping in innuendos, and even lingering her touch longer than necessary—but you? You just smile, nod, and carry on like she didn’t just whisper filth into your ear. It would be frustrating if you weren’t so damn cute.

Content warnings ; smut, making out, fingering, eating out, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, sweetheart etc) innocent!reader, somewhat soft!ruby

Word count ; 2,310

Minors PLEASE do not interact and please check my note at the bottom of this post, thank you !!

Ruby was used to playing the long game. She had spent years perfecting the art of manipulation, of planting seeds and letting them bloom exactly when she wanted. But this? This was something else.

You were something else.

Sitting across from her in the dimly lit motel room, your legs were tucked beneath you, a book in your hands as you absentmindedly nibbled on your bottom lip. It was adorable. And distracting. And if you had any idea what you were doing to her, she might have thought you were teasing her on purpose.

But you weren’t. That was the problem.

Ruby stretched out on the bed beside you, propping herself up on her elbow, watching you with a smirk. She reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear, letting her fingers graze your skin just a little too long.

You looked up, blinking at her. “Thanks, Rubes.”

Oh, for hell’s sake.

Ruby exhaled through her nose, biting back her amusement. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She shifted closer, voice dipping lower. “You know, I could help you relax. If you wanted.”

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head in confusion. “Relax? I mean… I’m not really tense or anything.”

She bit her tongue. This was too easy. “Mmm, not yet.”

You blinked again, eyes wide and clueless, before nodding. “Okay! Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby swore she could hear the universe laughing at her.

She tried again the next night. This time, she let her hand settle on your thigh, fingers tracing absentminded circles over your jeans. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t supposed to be.

But all you did was smile at her, completely unaware of the fire she was trying to start beneath your skin.

She tried dirty jokes—thinly veiled comments that should have had you blushing, shifting in your seat.

But no.

“That’s funny, Ruby!” you’d laugh, shaking your head, completely missing the point.

And yet, despite your innocence, your body was still reacting.

Ruby noticed the way your breath hitched when she touched you, the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt when she got too close. And, if her demon senses were right—which they always were—she knew what she was doing to you.

You just didn’t understand it.

That became clear one night when you sat beside her on the motel bed, eyes flickering down as you squirmed slightly.

Ruby arched a brow. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

Your lips pressed together, eyes darting away. “I don’t know.”

Ruby smirked. “Yeah?” She leaned in, voice a murmur. “Wanna tell me about it?”

You hesitated, fingers twisting together. “I just feel… weird.”

Ruby’s smirk grew. “Weird?”

You nodded. “Like, my stomach feels all fluttery, and I feel kinda warm. And, um…” Your voice trailed off, and Ruby nearly groaned at the way you bit your lip.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ruby cooed, brushing a finger beneath your chin, tilting your gaze up to meet hers. “You really are innocent, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

Ruby leaned in, lips ghosting over your ear. “I mean, you feel that way because of me.”

Your breath caught, and Ruby could practically hear the gears turning in your head.

She pulled back, watching the slow realization flicker in your eyes.

“Oh.”

Ruby grinned. “Yeah. Oh.”

She ran her fingers down your arm, feeling the shiver that followed. “And the wetness in your panties?” She tilted her head, eyes dark. “That’s me, too.”

Your lips parted, cheeks burning, but you still didn’t pull away.

Ruby chuckled, cupping your cheek. “So, tell me, sweetheart,” she murmured, thumb brushing over your skin. “Do you want me to teach you what it all means?”

You swallowed hard. And then, finally, you nodded. Ruby’s smirk was pure satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t demanding. She let you set the pace, let you melt into her. Her hands rested on your waist, warm and steady, as if she was letting you decide how far this would go.

And you wanted this.

You pressed closer, sighing into the kiss as your hands found their way to her shoulders, clinging to her like she was the only thing tethering you to this world. She deepened the kiss slowly, her tongue brushing against yours with the kind of reverence you had never imagined a demon capable of.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“I won’t,” you whispered.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “That’s not the point. If you need me to, you tell me.”

You nodded, the weight of her words sinking into you.

She kissed you again, this time trailing her lips down to your jaw, to the hollow of your throat, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. You shivered as warmth pooled in your stomach, the feeling unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Her hands slipped under your shirt, fingers tracing over your skin, slow and deliberate. You gasped at the sensation, at the way your body responded to her so easily.

“You’re so sensitive,” Ruby murmured, pulling your shirt over your head, letting her gaze rake over you. “Every little touch makes you shiver.”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

Her hands slid down your sides, thumbs stroking over your hips as she pressed her forehead against yours. “You don’t have to do anything,” she assured. “Just feel. Let me take care of you.”

You exhaled shakily as she guided you back onto the bed, her hands never leaving your skin. She took her time undressing you, pausing between every article of clothing to kiss and worship every new inch of skin revealed to her.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, her voice reverent.

You had never felt beautiful before. Not like this.

Ruby took her time, mapping your body with her lips, her hands, her tongue. She traced every curve, every hollow, learning you in a way that made your breath catch in your throat. And when her mouth moved lower, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, your thighs, your entire body tensed.

She noticed immediately.

“Relax,” she soothed, looking up at you from between your legs, her fingers tracing slow circles against your hip. “I’ve got you.”

You nodded, trying to breathe, trying to let yourself be here with her.

And then her mouth was on you.

You gasped, your back arching as a surge of pleasure shot through your body. Ruby held you down gently, her hands firm but comforting as she worked you open with agonizing care.

“You taste so good,” she murmured against you, the vibration of her voice sending another shock of sensation through your core.

You clutched at the sheets, your mind spiraling as she continued, her tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes. She wanted you to feel this. All of this. She wanted to make sure that when you came apart, it was because of her.

Every sound you made seemed to fuel her, her grip on you tightening, her movements growing more confident. She knew exactly when to slow down, when to speed up, when to curl her fingers just right to have you gasping her name.

“Ruby—”

She looked up at you, her mouth and fingers still working you over. “I know, baby. Let go.”

And you did. The pleasure built and built until it crashed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in sensation.

Ruby didn’t stop, not until your breath slowed, not until you were boneless beneath her, completely undone.

The world around you felt distant, blurred by the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.

Ruby hovered over you, her body warm, solid—a grounding force in the chaos of sensation she had just pulled you through. Her lips ghosted over your temple, pressing a slow, lingering kiss there.

“You still with me, babe?” she murmured, her voice soft but teasing, her hands gliding up your sides.

You nodded, but words failed you. Your limbs felt heavy, your body spent—and yet, deep in your core, there was still a lingering ache, a quiet hum of want that hadn’t faded. If anything, the tenderness of her voice, the gentle drag of her fingers across your skin, only made it grow stronger.

Ruby smirked, sensing it immediately. “Oh, you’re not done yet,” she whispered, her lips trailing down your jaw. “I can feel it.”

Her fingers brushed against your thighs, spreading them again with ease. Your body jolted at the sensitivity, a whimper slipping from your lips as she touched you again.

“Ruby—”

She hummed in response, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, working her way downward. “I told you I was going to take care of you,” she purred. “And I meant it.”

Before you could even process it, she shifted lower, sliding down your body, settling between your legs once more. Your breath hitched as her mouth found you again, her tongue flicking over the most sensitive part of you, drawing out every last aftershock.

It was overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once. Your hands flew to her hair, gripping tightly as pleasure bloomed anew, sharp and unbearable.

“I—I can’t—”

Ruby chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her fingers replacing her mouth, stroking you with slow, deliberate precision. “You can.”

Your body arched off the bed as she slipped her fingers inside you again, pressing deep, curling just right, her tongue following in perfect rhythm. She worked you open slowly, methodically, building you up again before you even had time to recover from the first.

“Ruby—please—” You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore.

She smirked, pulling back just enough to look up at you. “You look so good like this,” she murmured, watching the way you writhed beneath her. “Falling apart for me.”

She moved suddenly, pulling her fingers from you, making you whimper at the loss. But before you could protest, she was shifting, guiding you onto your side, her body pressing flush against your back. One arm wrapped around your waist, holding you steady, while the other slipped between your legs again, her fingers finding you with ease.

You gasped at the new angle, at how much more you could feel. Ruby’s lips found the back of your neck, trailing slow, lazy kisses as she worked her fingers inside you, each movement careful and deliberate.

“You feel so good,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “So tight, so perfect—”

Your body clenched around her fingers, and she groaned against you, her hand tightening on your waist.

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Let go for me again.”

The pleasure built quickly this time, sharper, more consuming. Your body trembled in her hold, completely at her mercy as she pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

And when you finally shattered again, Ruby held you through it—her lips at your shoulder, her fingers still working you through the intensity, drawing out every last tremor until you were gasping for breath.

She didn’t let go, didn’t pull away. Instead, she shifted you onto your stomach, her body pressing down against you, her knee sliding between your legs, pressing against the soaked heat of you.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. “But you’re still so needy, aren’t you?”

You could barely form words, your mind clouded with pleasure. But Ruby didn’t need you to answer. She already knew.

She lifted herself slightly, pulling you back against her lap, guiding you to straddle her thigh. The pressure sent another jolt of sensation through you, and you gasped, your hands gripping her arms for support.

“Ride me,” she murmured, her hands resting on your hips, guiding you gently.

You hesitated, uncertain, still overwhelmed.

Ruby leaned in, brushing her lips over your ear. “You’re safe with me,” she whispered. “Just feel. Just let go.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, and slowly began to move. The friction was dizzying, the steady press of her thigh between your legs sending sparks through your core. Ruby held you steady, her grip firm but careful, letting you set the pace, letting you use her.

“That’s it,” she whispered, watching you intently. “Take what you need.”

Your movements grew more frantic, more desperate, and Ruby’s hands tightened on your waist, holding you in place as you chased your release.

And when it finally came, when the pleasure ripped through you for the third time, it was almost too much. You sobbed her name as your body locked up, shuddering against her, your wings trembling, your grace flickering wildly.

Ruby caught you as you collapsed, wrapping you in her arms, her breath warm against your neck as she whispered soft, soothing praises.

“That’s my girl,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You didn’t even realize you were shaking until she shifted you onto your back again, pulling the blankets over your exhausted body.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, her fingers stroking your cheek.

You nodded, dazed, completely spent. “That was…” You trailed off, still unable to find the words.

Ruby smirked, brushing damp hair from your forehead. “Yeah,” she murmured. “It was.”

She didn’t move away—not like you had feared she might. Instead, she pulled you close, her arms tightening around you, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

“You did so well,” she whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling you under. But before you slipped into sleep, you felt Ruby’s lips at your temple once more, her voice barely above a breath.

“You’re mine now, baby,” she whispered.

And you didn’t mind one bit.

Liz talks : So! This was a request, and I did see a few other Ruby authors get this request which kind of confused me but I didn’t see that until after I started to write it and I really didn’t want to scrap the whole thing because I genuinely did love the request plus it’s Ruby! But for future reference I do not take requests for the foreseeable future. I’m in college + I have two jobs and I feel that I wouldn’t be able to get through all of my requests in a decent amount of time to have that type of thing open!! (Not that I’m guaranteed to get a lot of requests but yk) so please be cautious about this. Thank you :)

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @saltcxrcle , @vmiina , @nymphet-quenn , @samsblades

To get tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post!!

[killerplink]

Ik this is kinda random, but could I request Jason Todd x a taller reader? Doesnt have to be a story, maybe js a drabble or headcanons? I realize in a lot of peoples fics the girl is always tiny haha

Oh, I totally get that! The whole "tiny girl" trope is everywhere, and while it can be super cute, I think it's also fun to flip it sometimes. Jason's definitely a big guy—strong, built, and just intense in general—so having a taller girlfriend would be a cool contrast.

Plus, I like the idea of him being the one to get a little thrown off by the height difference instead of the other way around. It'd be fun to see him react to that! Especially since he's used to towering over most people, and then suddenly you can look him dead in the eye, and that's gotta mess with his whole "I'm in charge" vibe 🤭

There's just something about a taller partner that I think Jason would secretly love. Like, yeah, he's always gonna be stronger, but there's something about you towering over him just enough to make him feel like he's gotta prove himself even more 😈 And trust me, he'll find a way to make you feel small, even if you're taller 🙂‍↕️

Here are some headcanons I came up with for Jason Todd x Taller!Reader. Just some fun thoughts I had, enjoy! 🥰

Jason finds it hot. He won't admit it outright, but the first time he has to tilt his head up slightly to meet your eyes, there's this little flicker of something dark and intrigued in his expression. It messes with his instincts a bit, but in a good way.

Still stronger than you. You could be taller, you could even be a gym rat, but Jason? Jason can bench you. That's just facts. He's all brute strength, years of training, and ridiculous durability, so even if you tower over him, he's still tossing you around like it's nothing.

Loves proving it. Oh, you're taller? Cute. Let's see how much that matters when he's got you pinned under him, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. Jason isn't insecure about his masculinity, but he is stubborn, and if he can still make you feel small, he absolutely will.

Forehead kisses. He loves them. It took him a minute to get over the fact that you could kiss his forehead without effort, but once he did? It became one of his favorite things. He'll pretend to grumble, but if you lean down and press a kiss to his hairline, he's melting.

People don't expect it. Jason is huge, broad-shouldered, and built like a damn truck, so when people see you next to him—taller, confident—it throws them off, but he kinda likes that.

Teasing goes both ways. Jason has a sharp tongue and loves to tease you about anything—big hands still make you feel tiny, don't they?—but if you ever call him short, he's throwing you over his shoulder and making you regret it.

He's still the big spoon, no negotiation. Even if it takes some logistics, even if you're longer-limbed, he will find a way to wrap himself around you at night. You're not escaping the Jason Todd human furnace treatment.

Height jokes? Only from you. If anyone else comments on it? They get the look. That dead-eyed, you've got two seconds to shut up before you regret everything glare. You're the only one who's allowed to tease him about it.

Okay, but imagine being taller than Jason and him still absolutely ruining you. Here's how that would go. NSFW below 👀

Height difference? Yeah, he's using it. Jason loves when you loom over him, but he's even more obsessed with flipping the script. He'll shove you against the nearest surface, forcing you to look down at him—until he makes you collapse onto your knees.

Loves bending you in ways you didn't think possible. Just because you're taller doesn't mean he won't fold you in half. He'll grip your hips and push your legs back when he's on top, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Manhandling goes both ways. He loves how easily you can push him down, pin him against the bed, or hold him in place. But if you think for one second that means he's giving up control, you're so wrong. The moment you straddle him, he's gripping your thighs, fucking up into you until you're the one breaking.

Overstimulation? Oh, he's gonna ruin you. Jason doesn't stop until you're wrecked. He'll fuck you into the mattress, watching your body tremble under him, and when you whimper that it's too much? "Too much? Thought you were tougher than this, baby." But he still slows down, pressing kisses to your face while he pushes you to the edge one more time, just because he can.

Spreading you open. Jason loves watching you fall apart. He'll pull you onto his lap, spreading your legs over his own, keeping you wide open while he teases you with slow, deep thrusts.

Absolutely feral for riding. There's something about you towering over him, looking down all smug while you ride him that makes Jason lose his mind. He grips your hips, watching himself disappear into you, before growling, "Enjoyin' the view? Don't get cocky, baby, I'm about to fuck that attitude right outta you."

Biting. Scratching. Bruises. Jason's a rough bastard, and he loves leaving evidence. Doesn't matter if it's your thighs, your shoulders, or the back of your neck, he's leaving marks. And if you try to tease him about being shorter? Bite marks on your inner thighs. Enough said.

Fucking against the wall? Yeah, he's got that covered. Doesn't matter if you're taller, Jason's strong as hell. He'll lift you up, pin you to the wall, and fuck you like you weigh nothing. Bonus points if you wrap your legs around him.

Makes you ride his face just to prove a point. He wants you breathless, shaking, gripping the headboard for dear life. Jason grabs your thighs, pulls you down onto his tongue, and doesn't let you go until your legs are jelly.

Loves bending you over random surfaces. Kitchen counter? The hood of the Batmobile? The couch? Nowhere is safe. If you ever tease him too much, he'll bend you over the nearest surface, shove his hand between your legs, and make you beg for him.

Aftercare king. After he's fucked you dumb, Jason gets all soft. Kissing your forehead, running his fingers through your hair, whispering how good you were for him. And if you ever tease him about being shorter again? "Say it again tomorrow, baby. You won't be walkin'."

Hope you enjoyed these as much as I enjoyed writing them, let me know what you think, bestie 🥹✨

[dreamweave01]

I just found this AU for a few days and is now really really (two really's) invested??? My God this separated AU is so fresh and unique?? (no offense to other separated AU creators, i love them sm y'all have no idea how many tears were shed reading them all <3)

Anyways i love the fact that the boys were yoinked from different timelines with majorly different experiences (and baggage ofc) and would love to know how that affects their dynamic with each other and their newly (re)acquired parents. And i wonder if Drax and Big Mama were the same in their own timeline? Like were they good with them, indifferent or straight up villainous?

Thank you for your time! <333

Omg thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it, this au has had a lot of trial and error XD

There's a bit that's changed with how they act around each other actually.

Mikey was obviously very excited to have his brothers back, but his biggest issue is trying to learn how to have brothers. He lost his when he was just a baby turtle tot after all, raised as an only child his entire life.

Now he has three severely traumatized siblings. It's a very new family dynamic for him, and he feels that he has to be the one to help them through their issues. He's the "okay" brother, the one that doesn't have demons inside, and his self-assigned role of family therapist is a lot more draining than he ever lets on.

Leo was very ready to jump into a family again, very eager for a second chance. To any unsuspecting persons, he's still the fun-loving face man (albeit older and with less energy than when he was younger.)

But he blames himself so much for everything that happened in his timeline, and he never lets himself lean on others when he needs it. It's his fault his family got hurt, so it's his job to make sure that never happens again. Even if it hurts him.

He was a little hesitant with Draxum and Big Mama at first (especially Big Mama) given his history with the two. He didn't know if the two had gone good in Mikey's timeline, but the second he met them, it was clear that they weren't the villains of his childhood anymore. He's quickly learned to see them as much as his parents as Splinter is.

Donnie is really really hesitant with trust. It took him months to learn to trust his new family, and even longer to learn to trust anyone else. He stays closed off, emotionally detached, because he's learned that's the best way to stay safe. If you don't care about them, then it won't hurt that much when they stab you in the back.

He's slowly learning that his family won't abandon him, but some scars are harder to heal from than others.

Now the person in Donnie's family that took him the longest to get attached to would definitely be Draxum. Donnie kind of gave the poor guy the cold shoulder for a while, would never be in a room alone with him, avoided talking to him. It was really frustrating to say the least, but eventually Draxum earned Dee's trust.

Raph for the longest time was always on edge around his brothers. Everything he did was controlled, he thought about his every move before he made it. He was so terrified to hurt them again that it took forever for him to finally relax around them, a part of him still believing he's the bloodthirsty monster the Kraang made him out to be.

When it comes to the parents, Raph's gotten very attached. He wasn't so sure about Big Mama for the first couple of weeks, but it became clear quite fast that she was a kind and caring mother who loved her sons all equally.

Baron Draxum and Big Mama started out as villains, yes. But Michelangelo was able to help them change their ways.

Now, they are two very supportive parents along with Splinter, and the three have become very important figures in the turtles lives.

Of course, this is just in Mikey's timeline.

In Donnie's timeline, Draxum was killed by the Shredder. It was the same in Raph and Leo's timeline, just with the Kraang instead.

Big Mama on the other hand became a bit of a recluse in Donnie's timeline, was taken down by the Kraang in Raph's, (no one is really sure if she survived or not) and in Leo's timeline, she was a bit of a wild card, but eventually played the hero card to help out the Resistance.

[imaginarytheatre]

I’ve been in great need of fluff lately, can you write something where the reader just kisses Arlecchino’s cursed hands, telling her how much she loves them (and her ofc), just a cute scenario in general ! <3

Your writing is super good, I love it sm ! ^^ Take your time writing this.

In Her Hands - Arlecchino x Reader

Soft Arle hours!! We love to see it!!

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“My love, what are you doing?” Arlecchino asked when you held her hands together in yours. 

“Just looking!” You giggled, drawing imaginary shapes on the backs of her hands. 

Your smile was contagious, as Arlecchino’s face naturally matched yours. “Are my hands that fascinating to you?” 

“Well, actually, they kind of are. They're just the prettiest colour!” You press a kiss to each of her hands before nuzzling into her palms. They were warmer than you expected. No wonder she always felt like home.

Arlecchino grazed her fingers across your cheeks. Your lovely cheeks felt so soft and wonderful to her touch. She gently pinched your cheeks; she couldn’t help that you looked so adorable in her hands. “Alright, what do you need? Do you need my attention?”

You leaned into her chest, sinking into her embrace. “I always want your attention.” You mumble.

“If I could give you my attention all the time, I would. Are you feeling sad because I had to step away from the House of Hearth last night?” She asked.

You felt a pang of guilt since she asked in such a worried manner. You didn’t want to sound spoiled. Not when she gave you the world when you asked.

“I was before, but I feel better now.” You rested your chin on her chest, gazing up at her. Each time you look at her, it always feels like the first.

“Then anytime you feel upset, you’re to come to me, understood?” Without separating her hands, she brought them up and around you, trapping you. “You’re welcome to hold my hands until you feel better. Hold my hands, my neck, my heart… but I suppose you’ve had the latter for a while.”

You blushed a bright red, harmonizing with her eyes. ‘We match so well. We’re clearly made for each other, wouldn’t you agree?’ She had pointed it out the first time. 

“I’ll happily do that, Father~” You teased. 

One of her hands came up and traced your jawline. Her nail trailed along your chin, scratching underneath it. She leaned in close, close enough to feel her breath on your face. “I prefer the term husband from my spouse.” 

A squeal left your lips as you nearly jumped. Just when you thought she could no longer surprise you! “H-husband??” 

“Yes, my spouse?”

“Arlecchino!” You buried your face into your hands. You could feel how hot you became in just a few words. 

She gently pried your hands away from that beautiful face she could never tire of seeing. She gently pressed a kiss to your nose, her touch now feeling cooler than you. “I’m sorry baby, didn’t mean to fluster you.”

“Liar…” You pouted, silently demanding more kisses.

Arlecchino knew you better than anyone. All the secret glances, hidden smirks, and muffled laughs. She knew what every one meant from your lips. 

She planted a kiss at the very top of your head.

“You’re right my dear, I lied–”

She kissed the corners of your eyes.

“I couldn’t help it–”

Finally, she enveloped your lips in hers. Her hand tangled in your hair and the other held your waist. Beside you, she wasn’t just the Father of the House of Hearth. She was your beloved, your love, your future husband. 

She swears it.

Each kiss from her felt magical. Her touches make you feel lightheaded in the best way. You didn’t want to think anymore if not thinking of her. 

She reluctantly pulls away. “I couldn’t help, but want to tease you to see that delicious look on your face.”

You would combust if you heard anymore. “No more kisses for my… husband.”

She gasped, “My spouse is upset with me? Oh my, I’ll have to do everything to make them feel better.”

Arlecchino brought you in close again. “I’ll just have to spoil you until you forgive me.”

A smile crept onto your face, “Nothing else I’d rather be doing.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Masterlist

Discord

[unvoluntaryauthor]

I don't know how to feel about Homura

( Before reading this, please no, I do not hate Homura, nor do I love her, and all of this is my personal speculation of her character and her actions. Please do not take anything to heart. I would like to hear your opinions as well)

When it comes to Homura, I don't feel strong emotions like love or hate; instead, I feel indifferent. I understand that Homura's primary goal is to save Madoka, but at what point does her determination cross a line?

In Madoka's witch form, we see that the various leg-like structures symbolize different timelines where Homura repeatedly tried and failed to save Madoka. This raises the question: Is Homura ultimately doing more harm than good? On one hand, she's protecting Madoka from Kyubey, but on the other, she's sacrificing everyone else in the process.

I'm not saying Homura doesn't care about others — I believe she does — but she's become so accustomed to witnessing their fates that she's grown numb to their suffering. From what I gather in the anime, it feels like Homura doesn't just want to save Madoka — she wants to be the one who saves her. While her actions are driven by love and concern, there's also a selfish element at play.

When Madoka ultimately became a god, she wasn’t happy about it. It wasn’t a choice she wanted to make, but she knew it was necessary to ensure no other magical girls would suffer as she and her friends had. It was Madoka's empathy and compassion that led her to sacrifice her humanity, creating a world where magical girls would no longer succumb to despair and become witches. Was this an easy decision? No. But Madoka accepted the consequences, fully aware of the sacrifices involved. To her, it was worth it — she would rather endure sadness and misery than allow others to go through the same pain.

When Homura realized Madoka had become a god, she went back in time to try and prevent it. In doing so, Homura rejected and disrespected Madoka’s decision. While her intentions may have been out of love and concern, she ultimately disregarded what Madoka wanted — a world where no magical girls had to suffer as they had. Homura couldn’t accept that fate for Madoka, even if it was what Madoka chose for herself.

Madoka once said something to Sayaka that highlights this point: "I know this isn't the way you thought things would turn out, but I do think it's the way you would want it to be. Your wish was a precious gift, and you sacrificed so much for it. I have to honor it and respect it because it wasn’t meaningless." Madoka sacrificed everything for that wish, and I mean everything. Homura failed to extend that same respect to Madoka's decision.

That said, I understand why Homura acted the way she did. If one of my dearest friends was in Madoka’s position, I know I would struggle to accept it too. Even if it meant disrespecting their wishes, I would do everything in my power to stop them from enduring such pain. As a human being — especially as a teenage girl — I can’t blame Homura for trying to change fate. Love is powerful, and it can blind us to reason. It can make people act selfishly, recklessly, and dangerously. Homura’s actions are the ultimate proof of this.

Homura once said, "Because I finally remembered all the times I repeated history, got hurt, and suffered over and over again — all of that was proof of my feelings for Madoka. So now, even pain is dear to me. It wasn’t curses that spoiled my soul gem... it’s something you have no chance of understanding, Incubator — it’s the pinnacle of all human emotion: more passionate than hope, deeper than despair — love."

Love can change a person — not always for the better. While it can be kind, generous, and uplifting, it can also be dark, destructive, and overwhelming. In Homura’s case, her love for Madoka consumed her, driving her to make dangerous choices without regard for herself and anyone else.

That’s why I’m conflicted about Homura. I recognize that her actions are wrong, yet I also understand why she did them. Homura and Madoka’s relationship is complex — one person is clinging to the past while the other has sacrificed everything for the future. Homura refuses to let go, while Madoka has willingly given herself up for the greater good. It's a tragic dynamic, yet deeply compelling.

[yoomiwrites]

Sweet Innocence

Summary: Princess Y/N’s kingdom is falling apart, and her family’s only hope is her marriage to a cruel, old king. Desperate, she makes a reckless choice one night—and wakes up in Niji Vinsmoke’s bed. Now, caught between a dangerous engagement and Niji’s growing interest, Y/N must navigate a deadly game of survival where one wrong move could cost her everything.

Note: A new story? Yes, sorry. But I had the idea while playing Bounty Rush and had to write it. Bare with me. ;-; Already wrote 3 chapters of this one, but it will get slow updates. Also trying to make the read-flow better with some bold Highlights. Long chapters! I used Google as help for fancy names, hit me up if you know where they're from.

Third-person pov. Female Reader. Sensitive topics. Hard language. Slight Gore. Slow Updates. Enemies to lovers. Sex mentioned. Forced marriage. Death mentioned.

The Kingdom of Velderis had always been a jewel among the southern realms—a land of rich history, golden coastlines, and a proud naval fleet that commanded both respect and fear across the seas. Nestled between towering, mist-kissed cliffs and sprawling fields of wildflowers, the kingdom’s capital, Eldoria, stood as a monument to centuries of wealth and power. At sunrise, the city’s marble domes and copper spires gleamed like fire against the sky, and the scent of salt and citrus drifted through its cobbled streets.

For generations, Velderis had thrived under the rule of King Eldric and Queen Selene, their governance blessed with prosperity and an unshakable alliance with the great naval forces of the region. The people of Velderis lived well; merchants boasted of the finest silks and spices from distant lands, and the harbors were always bustling with trade ships. Knights patrolled the city with pride, and even the poorest citizens rarely went hungry. It was a kingdom built on strength and diplomacy, and for years, it had seemed untouchable.

But gold does not last forever.

Princess Y/N had spent most of her childhood blissfully unaware of the slow decay creeping through her family’s empire. She had lived as any princess should—dancing barefoot through the palace gardens, racing horses along the sea cliffs, and sneaking away from her lessons whenever the opportunity arose. The world had felt endless in those days, filled with color and warmth, and she had never once thought to question the security of her home.

She and her sister, Hitomi, had been raised in privilege but not in cruelty. Their parents were not the kind to lock them away in gilded cages or deny them the joys of youth. Queen Selene, ever graceful and wise, had taught them kindness before etiquette, while King Eldric, though impulsive at times, was a man who adored his daughters fiercely. His booming laughter could shake the very halls of the palace, and when he wasn’t tangled in matters of state, he was lifting them onto his shoulders or telling them stories of battles fought and won.

Yet even the strongest of men cannot stop the tide of time.

Y/N had first begun to notice the shift in the kingdom’s fortune when the feasts grew smaller. At first, it was subtle—certain dishes missing from the banquet tables, a quiet decrease in the servants attending them. The once-lavish festivals of Eldoria became less extravagant, and the royal family made fewer appearances outside the castle walls.

Then came the rumors.

She would hear them whispered among the maids as they folded linens, spoken in hushed tones by the palace guards when they thought no one was listening. The kingdom was in debt. The once-mighty fleet of Velderis had weakened, unable to keep up with the growing military power of rival nations. Trade agreements were failing. Coin was slipping through the cracks faster than it could be replenished.

By the time Y/N was sixteen, she could no longer ignore it. She had seen her mother’s quiet worry, the way her father’s temper had grown shorter. She had watched Hitomi’s perfect composure falter when their parents sat them down and explained the truth—Velderis was on the verge of collapse. Their noble status meant nothing without wealth, and if they did not act soon, their family’s legacy would crumble into dust.

And so, a decision was made.

Hitomi, the elder daughter, the beauty of the family, was to be wed to a prince of GERMA—a powerful and militaristic empire whose name alone struck both admiration and fear across the seas. It was an advantageous match, a way to secure an alliance that could restore Velderis’ strength. The engagement was arranged swiftly, and while Hitomi had not protested, Y/N had seen the sharp glint of resentment in her sister’s usually calm eyes.

But Y/N’s fate was far worse.

Her marriage was not to be a political alliance of status, nor a romantic tale of duty and love. No, her betrothal had been arranged to a widowed king, a man of great wealth and military strength but of no charm, no youth, and no kindness. He was known across the region for his cold nature and calculating mind, a man who had already buried two wives and sought a new, young bride to bear him heirs.

The worst part? It was not her beauty that had sealed the deal.

No one compared her to Hitomi, whose face was a thing of delicate, sculpted perfection. Y/N was neither as poised nor as graceful; her hands were calloused from climbing trees and handling horses, her laughter too loud for the refinement expected of a princess.

But that was exactly why she had been chosen. Because she was innocent.

Because her father, desperate to secure Velderis' survival, had gambled with her very life.

And he had lost.

One week after her twenty-first birthday, Y/N arrived at GERMA, a floating fortress that defied the very laws of nature.

It was not a kingdom in the traditional sense—no lush valleys, no grand palaces carved into the hillsides, no gentle rivers winding through quaint villages. GERMA was a nation built atop warships, a fleet so massive it could swallow entire naval forces whole. It moved across the sea like a living thing, an ever-shifting empire of steel and thunder, where politics were decided by power, and alliances were sealed in blood.

The royal vessel from Velderis docked at one of GERMA’s sprawling platforms, an expanse of blackened metal and towering, gold-plated buildings that shimmered beneath the midday sun. It was eerily quiet, save for the low hum of machinery and the rhythmic crash of waves against the hull. There were no bustling markets, no street performers filling the air with song—only the constant movement of soldiers in crisp uniforms, their faces unreadable beneath their helmets.

For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt small.

She had traveled before, seen neighboring kingdoms with their own unique beauty, but GERMA was something else entirely. It was a war machine, a kingdom of conquest, and its people lived under a different set of rules—ones dictated by strength, not diplomacy.

It was also where her sister’s fate would be sealed.

The entire reason for their visit was to finalize Hitomi’s engagement. Their father, ever the tactician, had insisted on traveling with them to ensure that the arrangements were to his liking. Their mother had gone to serve as a mediator, while Hitomi… well, Hitomi had no choice but to follow.

Y/N had been invited to the political gathering as well—her presence was expected, after all—but she had refused.

Not openly, of course. She hadn’t thrown a fit or dramatically stormed away. She had simply declined in the same quiet way she always did when something made her uncomfortable. "I’ll just get in the way," she had said, offering a small smile, though no one believed that was the reason.

Her father had sighed but hadn't pushed. Her mother had given her a knowing look but had said nothing. And Hitomi—perfect, elegant Hitomi—had simply nodded as if she understood.

So while her family disappeared into the depths of GERMA’s grand warship, where political discussions and marital negotiations were being handled behind closed doors, Y/N stayed behind.

And she fed the seagulls.

She sat on the edge of the docking platform, legs swinging over the side as she absentmindedly tossed bits of stale bread to the hungry birds. The seagulls were fearless here, darting dangerously close, their sharp beaks snapping at the crumbs before they could hit the water.

The sea was calmer than she had expected—an endless stretch of deep blue, reflecting the golden light of the late afternoon. From this vantage point, she could see the rest of GERMA's fleet scattered across the horizon, each massive warship interconnected by thick metal. It was a floating empire unlike any other, but Y/N found no beauty in it. It was cold, unyielding, built for battle rather than for life.

She sighed, tearing off another piece of bread and flicking it toward the birds.

She was delaying the inevitable.

Once Hitomi’s engagement was settled, her family would return to Velderis, and she would not be going with them. Instead, she would be sent to another kingdom, one far less impressive than GERMA but no less powerful. A kingdom where her future husband was waiting.

She still hadn't said his name out loud.

A chill ran through her despite the warmth of the sun. The very thought of him, a man she had never met, made her stomach twist. She knew only the whispers—the rumors of his ruthlessness, the cold efficiency with which he had ruled. He was rich beyond reason, his army unmatched, his kingdom fortified and untouchable. But that wealth and power had come at a cost, and it was said that the women he married did not live long enough to enjoy it.

Her fingers tightened around the last piece of bread.

She could still run.

It was a foolish thought, a childish fantasy, but it lingered in the back of her mind all the same. She had never been a coward, but this was different. This was her life being sold away like some political bargaining chip, her freedom exchanged for a kingdom’s survival.

But if she ran, Velderis would fall.

Her father had been clear—without her marriage, their kingdom would collapse under the weight of its debt. Their enemies would seize the opportunity to strike, their allies would turn their backs, and soon, Velderis would be nothing more than a fading memory in history books.

And so, she would marry him.

Not because she wanted to.

But because she had no choice.

She exhaled slowly, finally throwing the last piece of bread into the sea. The seagulls fought over it, screeching and snapping, and she watched them without really seeing them. Her fate was sealed. There was no escape.

But still…

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Hmmmm..?”

Y/N blinked, turning her head sharply. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, but now, standing just a few feet away, was a man she instantly recognized—Niji Vinsmoke.

His posture was almost lazily arrogant, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly as he studied her with an expression caught somewhere between boredom and mild curiosity.

Y/N swallowed, suddenly aware of how alone they were. She wasn’t sure if he had been sent to fetch her, or if he had stumbled upon her by accident, but she had a sinking feeling that it didn’t matter.

Because unlike her, Niji Vinsmoke was not trapped.

He was free.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt something dangerously close to jealousy.

For a long moment, Y/N said nothing.

She simply stared at Niji, taking in the sharp, effortless confidence in the way he stood, the glint of amusement hidden just beneath the surface of his smirk.

He looked every bit the prince of GERMA—tailored suit, pristine and likely worth more than most people’s yearly income, the dark fabric perfectly fitted to his broad frame. A high-collared cape draped over one shoulder, fastened with gold accents that caught the light. His signature sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes completely. Even so, she could feel him watching her, assessing her with the same cool detachment one might have for a mildly interesting insect.

And yet, despite all of that, despite the unmistakable weight of his presence—she didn’t feel the need to bow.

Instead, she let out a slow breath and looked back at the sea. “You’re not very polite.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, a near-smirk that didn’t quite form. “And you’re not very subtle,” he replied. “But I think we’ve already established that.”

Y/N ignored him, focusing instead on the distant waves, her fingers brushing absentmindedly against the cool metal of the platform beneath her. It was easier than looking at him, easier than acknowledging the fact that she was speaking so freely to someone she probably shouldn’t.

GERMA was dangerous.

Everyone knew that.

Its princes were dangerous—weapons first, men second. Raised for war, hardened by battle, with no need for sentiment or mercy. She had heard the stories, knew what kind of people the Vinsmokes were. And yet, here she was, trading words with one of them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She should have been afraid.

But instead, she found herself irritated.

He was still standing there, still watching her with that air of detached amusement, as if waiting for her to crack first.

So she turned back to him, arms crossing over her chest. “Shouldn’t you be at the meeting?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Or do Germa princes get to skip out on their royal duties?”

Niji huffed out something that might have been a laugh. “The trial ended ten minutes ago,” he said, slipping one hand into his pocket. “But I’ll be sure to let my father know you’re so concerned about our political affairs.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “You don’t need to.”

“Oh?” He tilted his head slightly, as if studying her through the tinted glass of his sunglasses. “And what exactly are you doing out here, then? Feeding the seagulls? Hiding from something?”

Her fingers twitched, but she didn’t react. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she reached for the last remaining crumbs of bread, tossing it toward the water with deliberate ease. “Not everyone enjoys sitting through hours of royal negotiations,” she said. “Some of us prefer fresh air.”

His smirk widened just a fraction.

“You talk much for a servant.”

She froze for half a second.

Then, slowly, she turned to face him fully. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, as if the matter was of no real importance. “You’re dressed plain,” he said, gesturing lazily at her attire. “And you’re out here alone, wasting time with birds while everyone else is inside doing something actually productive. Not exactly a princess-like image, is it?”

She clenched her jaw.

Of course. Of course he would make such an assumption.

Unlike Hitomi, she had never cared much for the delicate, embroidered gowns or elaborate hairstyles their station demanded. She preferred practicality—a simple yet elegant tunic, high boots built for movement, and a cloak that shielded her from the ocean breeze. And now, apparently, that was enough for him to assume she was beneath him.

Her pride flared like a spark catching fire.

“I am Princess Y/N of Velderis,” she said coolly, her chin lifting just slightly. “The second daughter of King Eldric and Queen Selene.”

She expected shock, or maybe a hint of embarrassment.

Instead, Niji merely raised an eyebrow, adjusting his sunglasses. “Huh,” he said, as if it was the most unimpressive thing he had ever heard.

She grit her teeth.

“And,” she continued, voice clipped, “what I wear is none of your business.”

That, at least, earned her a short chuckle.

“Well,” Niji said, taking a slow step forward, just enough to lean in slightly, his voice dropping into something mockingly conspiratorial. “If you don’t want people mistaking you for a servant, maybe don’t dress like one.”

She stiffened.

A low, simmering frustration burned in her chest, but she bit her tongue, forcing herself to stay composed. He wanted a reaction—expected one, even. But she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Instead, she turned on her heel, stepping away from the platform’s edge.

“I should go,” she muttered under her breath.

“Good idea,” Niji said smoothly, watching her with that same infuriating smirk. “Wouldn’t want your future husband to think you’ve gone missing.”

That made her pause.

Just for a fraction of a second.

He didn’t know who she was engaged to. He was only poking, testing—but the fact that he even mentioned it at all sent a wave of cold realization through her.

She wasn’t free.

Not like him. Not like any of the people walking around this kingdom built on steel and war.

Her fingers curled into fists, but she didn’t turn back. She simply kept walking, her steps quick and purposeful as she made her way back toward the ship where her family was waiting.

Behind her, Niji let out a soft laugh—one that carried just enough amusement to let her know he had won this round.

Y/N didn’t stop walking until she reached the ship.

Her heart was still beating faster than she’d like, her frustration from her exchange with Niji lingering like an unwelcome guest in her chest. She had half a mind to throw something overboard—maybe one of those expensive, gold-plated goblets the GERMA royal family probably drank out of, just to watch it sink into the abyss.

But that wouldn’t change anything.

Her fate was sealed, and no amount of frustration could undo the chains her family had wrapped around her wrists.

She stepped onto the deck of their royal ship, brushing past a few familiar guards who offered quick bows as she made her way to the cabins. She needed to see Hitomi. Needed to know how things had gone, what decisions had been made behind closed doors, how much longer she would have her sister by her side before they were both married off to men they barely knew.

She found Hitomi in her cabin, seated by the large, ornately carved vanity table near the window. The room was filled with the soft golden glow of the evening sun, casting a warm light over the space, but Y/N felt no comfort in it.

Hitomi glanced up as she entered. “Oh, you’re back,” she noted, voice light.

Y/N wasted no time. “Well?” she demanded, shutting the door behind her. “What happened? What was decided?”

Hitomi let out a small hum, tilting her head slightly as she picked up a silver hairbrush, running it through the long, sleek strands of her dark hair. She looked... calm. Even pleased.

Y/N narrowed her eyes.

“Well,” Hitomi said at last, “the wedding is scheduled for two weeks from now.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped slightly. Two weeks. That was fast.

Too fast.

“But,” Hitomi continued, “it seems they haven’t decided who I should marry yet.”

Y/N frowned, stepping further into the room. “What do you mean?”

Hitomi set her brush down, turning in her chair to face her fully. “Father and Mr. Vinsmoke couldn’t come to an agreement,” she said, a faint, knowing smile curving her lips. “Father wants me to marry Ichiji, but Mr. Vinsmoke isn’t ready to give up his eldest son so easily. They’re still… negotiating.”

Y/N stared at her. “And you’re fine with that?”

Hitomi shrugged one delicate shoulder. “I suppose,” she said airily. “I’ll be married to one of them regardless.”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “And you’re okay with that?”

That earned her a small, amused glance. “They’re more attractive than I expected,” Hitomi admitted, leaning back against her seat. “I don’t suppose it really matters which one I end up with, as long as he’s not a bore.”

Y/N’s hands curled into fists. How? How could she be so calm about this? How could she act as though she were picking out a new gown instead of a husband?

“This is a marriage, Hitomi,” she said sharply. “Not some game.”

Hitomi’s faint smile faltered for the first time.

For a brief second, something flickered in her dark eyes—something that looked almost like sadness. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced once more with that same calm, unreadable expression.

“It is a game, Y/N,” she said softly. “We just don’t get to make the rules.”

Y/N swallowed hard.

She hated that answer.

She hated that it was true.

Hitomi sighed, shifting slightly in her seat, her gaze drifting toward the open window. The sea stretched endlessly before them, shimmering in the fading sunlight. “But we’re not here to talk about me, are we?” she mused. “I suppose you’d rather talk about your upcoming wedding, hm?”

Y/N went rigid.

Hitomi tilted her head slightly, her voice turning almost too casual. “To King Zeang of Malvera.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted at the sound of his name.

Zeang.

Y/N turned away, gripping the back of a nearby chair. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

But Hitomi only studied her, expression thoughtful. “You should,” she said. “You should talk about it.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she muttered. “The decision has been made.”

Hitomi’s voice turned quiet. “You don’t have to go through with it.”

Y/N let out a bitter laugh, turning back to her. “And what do you suggest?” she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “That I run away and doom our kingdom to collapse?”

Hitomi’s gaze was steady. “No,” she said. “I’m suggesting that maybe, just maybe, we could find someone else to marry instead.”

Y/N frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Hitomi exhaled slowly, rising to her feet. She walked over to the window, fingers resting lightly against the frame as she stared out at the vast expanse of the ocean.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “Zeang never kept his previous wives for long.”

Y/N stiffened. “I’m aware.”

Hitomi’s fingers curled slightly. “And do you know what they all had in common?”

Silence.

Y/N’s heart thumped loudly in her chest.

Hitomi turned to her, eyes dark and serious. “They were all innocent.”

A heavy, suffocating silence filled the space between them.

Y/N’s breath caught.

Hitomi watched her closely, as if waiting for something to click.

And then, softly—almost gently—she repeated it.

“If you weren’t innocent, he wouldn’t marry you either.”

Y/N’s hands went cold.

She stared at her sister, trying to understand exactly what she was implying, exactly what she was suggesting. But her mind was moving too fast, emotions crashing into each other like waves in a storm.

“That’s—” she began, but she didn’t even know what she was trying to say.

Hitomi sighed, stepping closer, placing a delicate hand on her shoulder. “Think about it,” she said, voice softer now. “Our kingdom needs this marriage, yes. But if you were… disqualified, they’d simply have to find someone else, wouldn’t they?”

Y/N swallowed hard.

Her mind reeled.

She had spent so long believing that she had no choice, that she was trapped in a fate she couldn’t escape. But now, for the first time, there was something else.

Something dangerous.

Something…possible.

Hitomi gave her shoulder a light squeeze before stepping back. “Just something to consider,” she murmured.

And with that, she returned to her seat, picking up her brush once more as if the conversation had never happened.

But Y/N?

Y/N stood frozen, her world suddenly spinning in an entirely new direction.

The party was louder than expected.

Y/N had thought it would be a simple gathering, something dignified and restrained, given that it was meant to honor the unity of two powerful nations. But of course, this was GERMA 66—a kingdom that was anything but dignified.

It was a riot of noise and movement, filled with the clatter of gold-rimmed goblets, the occasional sound of shattering glass, and the boisterous laughter of men who lived without fear. The scent of roasting meat, sweat, and expensive liquor thickened the air, and all around her, nobles and warriors alike indulged with reckless abandon.

Her father was at the center of it all, already deep into his cups, his booming laughter rising above the din as he slapped Judge on the back like they were old friends instead of two kings negotiating their children’s futures.

Y/N barely acknowledged any of it.

Her hands were tight fists at her sides, her breath short and uneven as she stood near one of the long banquet tables, staring blankly at the bottles of alcohol lined up before her.

She had spent the entire evening thinking.

Thinking about Hitomi’s words.

"If you weren’t innocent, he wouldn’t marry you either."

The sentence had lodged itself deep in her mind, replaying over and over like a cruel taunt.

It was simple. Blatantly simple.

A way out.

She had never been particularly sentimental about her purity. It wasn’t something she clung to with any great sense of importance. But now—now it had become a bargaining chip.

A key to her own freedom.

Her throat felt tight, her palms slightly damp as she finally reached forward, her fingers brushing over the bottles. Her gaze scanned the labels, searching for the one with the highest proof.

She wasn’t foolish.

She knew herself well enough to understand that she wouldn’t have the courage to go through with it if she were sober.

So she wouldn’t be.

The bottle she selected was strong—stronger than anything she had ever dared to drink before.

She poured herself a glass. Downed it in one go.

It burned.

A hot, fiery path down her throat, sharp enough to bring tears to her eyes.

She coughed, her body immediately rejecting the intensity, but she forced herself to keep going.

Another glass.

Then another.

The world around her began to blur at the edges, the sounds of laughter and clinking goblets dulling into an indistinct hum.

She could feel it now—the warmth spreading through her limbs, the soft fuzziness settling into her brain, numbing everything it touched.

Good.

This was what she needed.

She stumbled away from the table, barely aware of her surroundings anymore. Her vision was unfocused, her thoughts hazy, but she had one goal in mind.

A man.

Any man.

Someone to make sure she could never be married off to Zeang.

Her steps were unsteady as she wove through the crowd, her body light, her mind floating somewhere between awareness and unconsciousness.

Then—she bumped into someone.

A firm, solid figure.

Strong.

Warm.

The scent of something clean and expensive filled her senses—subtle cologne mixed with the lingering sharpness of the sea and sweat.

She barely looked up.

Didn’t care who it was.

Instead, she stood on her tiptoes, swaying slightly, and pressed her lips against his.

The touch was brief, barely more than a soft press of warmth, before darkness swallowed her whole.

...

Y/N awoke to noise.

Loud. Jarring.

The clash of metal against metal, the distant sounds of shouted orders, the rhythmic pounding of boots against the floorboards.

For a brief moment, she didn’t register anything at all.

Her mind was still wrapped in a thick, alcohol-induced haze, her body heavy and warm, nestled against something soft and unfamiliar.

She blinked groggily, her lashes fluttering as she stretched—

Only to feel cool air against her bare skin.

Her bare skin.

A strange, creeping feeling crawled up her spine.

Slowly, she sat up, the sheets sliding down her body. The moment she saw herself, the moment she saw the way her naked form was tangled in silk covers, her heart stopped cold.

She felt her breath hitch, her fingers clutching the sheets tightly, dragging them up to her chest as panic rose like bile in her throat.

This…

This wasn’t her bed.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she darted her gaze around the room.

The space was larger than hers, the walls lined with neatly arranged weapons, the faint scent of steel and cologne lingering in the air.

This wasn’t her cabin.

This wasn’t even her ship.

Her mind raced, piecing together what had happened.

The party.

The drinking.

The kiss.

Then—blackness.

Her stomach twisted violently.

Who?

How?

Her thoughts were still sluggish, her memory a hazy void, but before she could dwell on it any further, the door creaked open.

Footsteps.

She snapped her head up, her grip on the sheets tightening like a vice.

And then—

Her entire body went still.

Niji Vinsmoke stood in the doorway.

Still in his training gear, a towel draped lazily over his shoulders. His blue hair was slightly damp, strands falling across his forehead in a way that should have looked casual, but instead sent a sharp, sinking dread straight into her gut.

He took one look at her.

And grinned.

A slow, amused smirk that curled at the edges, sharp and mocking, as his gaze flickered down to where she sat clutching the sheets to her chest.

Y/N felt her face drain of all color.

Oh.

Oh no.

Niji clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice thick with amusement. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Princess.”

[m4iya]

⋆⭒˚.⋆𝜗𝜚 Order up! Lychee black tea with 50% ice, 50% sugar and lychee jelly for @tokiloki!

An open book Iwaizumi Hajime (comfort, high school, misunderstanding)

The bell signalling the end of the school day had rang almost twenty minutes ago. Where on earth were they? With the rest of the team starting warmups, the coach instructed you—the manager—to search for them Sure, it was only daily practice; not a formal match or anything, but It was definitely uncharacteristic of them to not show up, so maybe you would cut them a little slack.

You took a few laps through the hallways, glancing into the classrooms and asking people who walked by if they had seen them. A pair of girls from your class giggled as they told you that they had just left the classroom where Oikawa still was, noting that Iwaizumi was also there with him. Something about the way they spoke, brushing hair behind their reddened ears as they mumbled to each other while walking—it irked you a little.

You couldn't exactly waltz in telling the boys off for being late, expecting them to laugh it off. Not that you hadn't joked around with them before, it was just you felt it was a little easier to joke around with Oikawa than it was with Iwaizumi, and seeing that they were both there made things a little awkward for you. You knew it was a little odd, but you struggled to figure out why you had such a hard time holding a conversation with him. Something about his gaze being so intense made you a little nervous, but you knew he was just a little rough around the edges; not as scrutinising as his eyes suggested. On a couple occasions, he'd helped you fill up bottles of water for the team, not allowing you to carry any of them on your own despite them being light, and whenever practice would stretch out later than usual, he'd stay back and help you pack things up.

Few words had been exchanged between the two of you, but something about him felt different from the rest of the guys. Oftentimes, your gaze lingered a little longer than usual on him during practice, and you'd noticed the way his tone becomes a little softer around you as opposed to his teammates.

And so you braced yourself as you stepped towards the classroom, opting to simply slide the door open and tell them that they were late. But before you could make it to the door, faint voices sounded from the other side.

"Something's definitely up." You recognised the voice as Oikawa's. What were they talking about?

"For the last time," Iwaizumi shot back, sounding exasperated. "There's nothing between us."

Oikawa hummed in thought, “But you’re always around her, helping her and stuff,” He teased. “Even Makki and Mattsun told me they’ve caught you staring on a couple occasions during practice. Iwa, you’re an open book when it comes to—”

A hand frustratedly gripped the door, forcefully sliding it open. “I’m sick of you constantly picking on me for this,” He spoke, his elevated tone laced with annoyance, “I told you, I couldn’t care less about—”

Startled, you watched as he threw the door open, his head turned towards Oikawa, whose eyes widened at the sight of you.

"Oh!" He awkwardly spoke in an attempt to smoothen the situation, "We're late, aren't we?"

You nodded, plastering a less than convincing smile on your face; a futile effort to hide the way you felt your stomach drop just moments ago.

"I came to call you two—we should get going." Your voice became smaller as you spoke, unable to meet either of them in the eyes. Walking down the hallway at a faster pace than the two of them, you felt a pair of eyes staring daggers into your back.

You didn't want to know what they were talking about. You continued to ignore the most obvious answer that plagued your thoughts whenever you noticed Iwaizumi glancing at you from the corner of your eye as though he had something to say. Throughout the remainder of practice, you were all over the place, struggling to complete the same tasks that you'd usually do with ease, even finding yourself nearly being slammed in the face with a ball at one point due to being so dazed.

This definitely wasn't a good look for you. For someone who didn't him to know you'd been affected by what he said, you sure did a terrible job at hiding it.

At last, the coach blew the whistle, signalling for a group meeting to be conducted. Soon after, the team began preparing to leave, taking down the net and packing the equipment away.

You did your part, steering the ball cart into the storage room, wondering how you were going to leave without not saying goodbye to him. Though, as you spent a few more extra minutes than usual 'counting the balls' in the storeroom, you noticed the chatter lessen continuously until a pair of footsteps approached you from behind.

"Got a minute?" Turning around, you saw as Iwaizumi stood at the entrance of the door, eyes staring directly into yours. Your heart dropped.

Struggling to maintain eye contact, you nodded, placing the last ball into the cart before turning to face him. "Everything okay?" Your voice cracked as you spoke, only making the carefree attitude you attempted to display even harder to maintain.

"Look," He ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he did so, "I didn't, um—I didn't mean what I said, you know, earlier." You'd never seen this side of him, given the little conversation you'd both shared. Neither of you had ever taken the initiative to do anything other than exchange a few jokes here and there during practice. But it looked like this long maintained distance would be closed soon enough.

You struggled to muster a reply, the feeling of unease still lingering in your stomach. After all this had happened, you began to wonder what you were to him; it hadn't been something you'd thought much about before today. You'd only met due to being in the same club together, and you didn't expect anything to come from this small bond of sorts that had been fostered between you both. But the desperation in his tone as he struggled to explain what he meant threw you off guard—you weren't used to being spoken to in this way, to have someone show you that they didn't want to lose you.

A lump formed in your throat as you opened your mouth, not knowing what words would come out even if you happened to voice your thoughts.

"I don't hate you, you know that, right?" He mumbled, his gaze leaving yours, as he embarrassedly shifted on his feet.

Once again, you nodded, leaning back on one of the pieces of stored equipment. "Me neither," You replied, blood beginning to rush through your cheeks, "It's.. actually the opposite, I think." Hearing your own voice, your stomach dropped in shock at what you'd just said.

"You think?" He scoffed, a smile lacing his slight laughter, "You're seriously hard to read."

"Well, you're pretty hard to ignore if I'm being honest." You took a few steps towards him, speaking as you did so. "For me, at least."

"Maybe that's on purpose." He teased, "I'm not the only open book here."

You laughed, stepping outside the storage room as he followed beside you. "I guess not."

In the light of the gymnasium, you caught a proper glimpse of his face as you turned to reply; he wasn't looking at you, instead glancing at the floor. A rosy hue was mixed into his tanned skin, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as you approached the exit, together.

from my 100 followers event

[puppyregceo]

lucy maclean regression headcanons !

c/w : brief mentions of invo / impure regression

a/n : this is soooo self indulgent eehehehe X3 srry i know i made a poll 4 what i should do next but this has been taking over my mind like cray ૮◞ ◟𑁬∘˙˚ also this is my first time writing about involuntary regression so plsplspls lmk if i'm incorrect about anything / if i should remove the term " impure " from the cws !!! NONE OF THE CHARACTERS MENTIONED ARE SHIPPED WITH LUCY !!!!! divider by the lovely @strangergraphics !!!

🦌 age regression is totally foreign as a concept to lucy , but it's not exactly new - she's always had a tendency to act a bit younger from time to time

🦌 norm always knew and indulged lucy where he could , playing with some of her childhood dolls when she'd come up to him pouting

🦌 she lost a lot of her childhood toys at shady sands but the vaults always have a surplus of toys on hand for any of the younger kids ( which she toootally takes from occasionally )

🦌 she's nervous to let anyone else know or see her regressed besides norm . everyone has always been super nice but the idea of anyone else figuring out that she's smaller scares her

🦌 she couldn't be more thankful for the fact that she has her own room , as when she's small she likes to build pillow forts and hide away from the rest of the vault

🦌 she'll occasionally let norm in to come say hi and he'll help her expand and fortify her fort with all of his " useless " knowledge

🦌 leaving the vault was incredibly stressful , and she started to notice that she tended to feel much smaller when she was in scary situations

🦌 age regression became an unconscious way for her to cope with all the change that had been happening in her life

🦌 she took a few of her favorite toys n stuffies out with her , buried deep in her backpack , n when she would sit by herself around the fire she made she'd pull her knees up to her chest and hold her favorite stuffie ( a little deer ) chose to her

🦌 even with no one to play with , she'd still have fun imagining drama-filled stories with her dolls , even including elements from her own travels into the plot

🦌 i could write a whole thing abt the ghoul n lucy .... hes so parental to me even though he no longer knows how to take care of a child from years of the wasteland n ends up a little rough around the edges ......

🦌 i think her and maximus are more like silly playmates than a cg and regressor relationship !!!! that man is totally regressing , albeit i think he'd be more of a teen regressor than a kid / baby regressor like lucy

🦌 she's sooo happy that she finally has someone else to play with out here !!! it takes her a while to learn to trust max and vice versa but once they do .... ohhh theyre terminally silly

🦌 now reader with a regressed lucy .... i'm thinking some whimsical thoughts

🦌 you'd probably be the first person to explain what regression actually is after lucy opens up enough to regress around you and she's confused at first but ends up super happy that there's a word to describe how she feels !!!

🦌 you worry about her regression putting her in danger in the wasteland but she's spent so much time out here on her own that she knows how to keep herself safe , even when small

🦌 she regrets not bringing more gear with her when she leaves , but you try your best to look out when you go scavaging , and you find her a few kids books and some more toys which she's ecstatic about

🦌 loooves loves loves it when you read to her !!! it reminds her so much of her mom and it brings her so much joy ( and sometimes lulls her off to sleep )

🦌 lucy is the most playful kiddo in the wasteland X3 she has soooo much energy and will run around or yap to you until she tuckers herself out n comes to you to nap

🦌 she's not a nap person normally but you make her feel safe enough that she'll curl up in your arms n rest

🦌 you make her feel soo safe and don't think less of her for her regression and it in turn leads to her regressing more around you which you never mind ; it means more time with your small girl 🫶

[frogemeat]

Back on my shit for my relativity falls AU where Stan goes missing because I can!! And no one can stop me!

So let’s actually dive into the characters a bit more this time and their reactions to Stan’s disappearance.

We’re going to start with Mabel because I feel like in any universe Mabel and Stan have a special connection, one where they just understand eachother, y’know?

In my relativity falls au, Stan is reluctant to open up at first to Mabel. Surprisingly it was Ford who warmed up to her first. Stan, at first, is very distrustful of adults and people in authority in general (when I get you Filbrick, when I get you-) so he keeps distance between himself and Mabel at first.

He’s his usual rambunctious self, loud and unapologetic about, but he doesn’t rant to her about the latest addition of his favorite comic, he doesn’t let her look at his drawings and anytime she wants to spend one on one time on him he would turn her down. Eventually he warmed up to her, which is more my actual relativity falls au then this, so I won’t go into it (unless someone wants me to 👀).

So when I say Mabel worked hard, she worked hard to get Stan’s trust. And she’s proud of that dammit!

To her Stan is such a bright star who’s often overlooked by his genius of a twin brother (something she can heavily relate too) and she wanted to nurture his creativity. And she did!

She displayed the weird Frankenstein taxidermy he made in the shack, she taught him how to knit and sew and he even started to let her watch “the duchess approves” with her!

They grew close and Mabel started to see both the twins as her sons. She had suspicions that their home life was… less than good and she was SUPER unsure about sending them home after summer ended. She didn’t think the decision would’ve been made for her.

Weirdmaggdeon was over. They won. Steve (Bill’s replacement in this AU) is gone. But they weren’t celebrating. The only thought the three Pines had was…

Where’s Stan?

They searched the woods for him long at the r the sun set. She had to drag Ford back home when he started tripping over his own feet, his exhaustion evident. Ford tried to insist he was okay, that he could keep looking, that he needed to keep looking, that Stan was out there, he needed to continue. Stan would keep looking for him if their roles were reversed.

All Mabel could do was shush him as he cried against her shoulder.

Dipper stayed behind and kept looking and both Mabel and Ford went home without their other half. Long after Ford had passed out Dipper had finally come home, empty handed. They spent the rest of the night talking about what to do. They would check town first thing in the morning, they had decided. Maybe in his daze he had wandered out of the woods and one of the townsfolk’s found him. If not, they would go to the police, see if anyone had reported a small brown haired preteen wandering around. (

They also discussed the possibility of Stan being dead, but Mabel couldn’t even stomach the thought of it. They quickly stopped when Mabel started to cry.)

She had just met the twins, only known them for three months, yet they were hers. Her boys. Her babies. Her peanut and walnut. And Stan was gone.

The boy she swore to protect, the boy who pretended he was tough when he was really the sweetest kid she ever met.

Days go by and still no Stan. Ford refuses to talk to anyone, Dipper is out of the house for most of the day searching, and Mabel is left alone, surrounded by half finished knitting projects and echoes of a boy who’s laughter warmed her heart.

She cries a lot. That’s all she does for the first few months.

One day, after Ford’s parents (not Stan and Ford’s, just Ford’s, because apparently no one remember’s her little peanut outside of Gravity Falls) drops off all his stuff for his apprenticeship with Dipper, she’s pulls herself together, makes her famous Mabelcakes, and starts to rebuild. Dipper had done amazing keeping them together, but it was time for some Mabel magic.

Three years pass and the Stan shaped hole in their family doesn’t get smaller. Ford still turns to his right whenever he gets excited, Mabel still hasn’t watched the season finale of “the duchess approves” (she couldn’t finish it without Stan, not when he was so excited to show it to her), and Dipper sometimes still goes into the woods to search.

Ford is turning 17 in a few weeks. June 15th. She’s in Greasy’s after deciding that a snack sounded good after buying birthday presidents for her walnut and instead of Susan greeting her and taking her order like she has since she started working there, she was greeted with a new face.

A familiar face.

Even older, more pimply, and with a beanie pulled down so far it almost covered his eyes, she would recognize him.

Her peanut.