#^ kind of pales in comparison to other things in a way

[secretgardensinmymindd13]

thinking about how buck and eddie’s love story is so beautiful exactly because they were written as friends first throughout the show

just to count all the small and grand gestures they did for each other, from the very beginning -

and they did it not because of some physical attraction, but because they just devoted themselves to each other platonically

because they didn’t have the instruments to recognize their romantic and sexual feelings for each other (like eddie repressing every single emotion known to mankind and therefore not being able to recognize his feelings most of the time, and buck keeping these thoughts somewhere very deep in his mind as irrelevant), they kind of had no physical spark that would motivate their actions. so they literally fell in love with each other’s souls

this is the definition of unconditional love

i think that’s my problem with bucktommy - because they really can’t compare to what buck and eddie have, what they built

like, i really don’t get bt shippers, ‘cause when i have buddie’s relationship right in front of my eyes, i can’t take bt seriously. they pale in comparison

and that’s not to diminish the relationships built on obvious romantic and physical attraction, like bathena and henren (madney probably counts as friends-to-lovers) - these couples are beautiful and amazing in their own way, and i consider them soulmates too

but i guess something about the best-friends-to-lovers trope will always scratch my brain, especially when it’s between two characters who believe - or genuinely don’t know - that they can have each other in a romantic way

it’s just such a raw and pure kind of love. and the longer these characters think they’re just friends, the more foundation for an otherworldly love they build with each brick of their platonic fondness and dedication

i really think that if the writers made shannon eddie’s endgame, and had them forgive each other and create a beautiful relationship like all the other couples on the show, i would’ve liked them. i think the actors had chemistry and looked good together, plus the characters already had deep history

and if they gave buck an actually interesting and fitting partner, i’d probably like them too

but then again, i’m so glad they didn’t - because eddie and buck’s characters are so perfect for each other in so many ways, i really can’t imagine them with anyone else but each other

there’s too much stuff between them, and the chemistry between the actors definitely plays a huge role too

when you have something so great in your hands, you don’t fumble it. (this is a message to the writers, because buck and eddie have been fighting the narrative for their love since day one)

and that’s also not to say romantic love is somehow superior to platonic love. as someone who cherishes her friendships even more than her romantic life at times, that’s definitely not the point i’m trying to make

but it’s just that, first of all, it’s what makes sense for these characters. and second of all, we as a society really need such a beautiful queer friends-to-lovers slow burn. i swear it will make history and lay the foundation for more layered and deep queer representation in the future

so, yeah, buddie being best friends who slowly fell in love with each other is my favorite thing about them

it’s the “i don’t have to want to sleep with everyone i have feelings for” part of it all

but they do want to sleep with each other, obviously, so i think they deserve it

just let’s go. let’s fucking go. let them kiss already

[anghraine]

I was thinking about my personal "TOS is really its own thing" headcanons for K/S, and also, that one of the things that really surprised me when I actually marathoned the whole series was the acknowledged ethical issue around captain/crew fraternization.

To rewind back to my ship, lol: I definitely think that Spock and Kirk are obsessively in love with each other, and it's pretty obvious that every other relationship and person in their lives pales in comparison, but I don't actually imagine that they've said or done anything about this beyond the kinds of things we've seen onscreen.

I mean. Yes, that includes things like "when Kirk gets a massage on the bridge for his back pain, he just assumes it's Spock and is intensely uncomfortable to discover it's someone else" + the two of them saying breathtaking romantic things with obvious heart eyes while ignoring the existence of everyone around them + Kirk's most compelling and insightful love interest remarking that Spock obviously belongs with him as if he always will be at Kirk's side + everything "Amok Time" chooses to be + mutual seething jealousy/Spock excising his rival from Kirk's mind while he sleeps + Kirk saying Spock is closer to him than anyone in the universe + Spock regularly abandoning his principles when it comes to Kirk etc etc etc. But I don't think they've actually said what they feel or initiated a (physically) sexual relationship during TOS itself.

Taking TOS by itself and ignoring the regular reboots of their characterizations in ... well, everything else, I definitely feel like they're moving inexorably towards that kind of unambiguous romantic relationship in TOS, just that they haven't quite taken that last step yet.

In fact, I suspect that the "You are closer to the captain than anyone in the universe" statement from bodysnatched Kirk to Spock is likely the most explicit statement either has made about how they feel or what their relationship really is, and it carefully stops just short of saying too much. And it's immediately followed by a) a mind-meld, I think the fourth between them, but the first in which Spock effortlessly melds them without a single word to help, and b) one of the most extended periods of physical contact between them, with iirc over two minutes of Spock holding Kirk's bare hand/wrist on screen as they try to escape together signifying nothing, with scene cuts suggesting the actual duration may in fact be longer (*gasps in Vulcan*).

The show ends with that episode because of the cancellation, but there's something weirdly apropos about it as a finale on a purely shipping level. I definitely felt like the dynamic between them has reached such a point by "Turnabout Intruder" that there's no going back. But I don't think anything more significant than what we've seen has happened off screen, just that the acknowledgment of the nature of their feelings and the shift to an overtly romantic, sexual relationship seem inevitable at this point. And by "overtly," I mean to each other, not necessarily anyone else.

There are various reasons I feel this way. Partly it's the high-octane yearning and repression that both exhibit in very different ways, which I think make more sense if they haven't acknowledged anything yet or transitioned away from pretending it's platonic. But one reason I envision them as Not Quite There But Definitely Going To Be, that I've rarely seen mentioned thus far, is something I would never have guessed from pop culture or even fandom osmosis.

Early in the series, Kirk explicitly states that he considers his crew completely off-limits in a romantic context. This ethical restriction applies only to him and not any other senior officers. Throughout the rest of the series, we're told and shown that Starfleet does not forbid fraternization among crew members of different ranks. Kirk himself says that it would be fine for Spock to have a romantic relationship with Janice Rand, just not Kirk.

And moreover, Kirk never does voluntarily enter a romantic relationship with any crew member. He and Janice Rand have a mutual infatuation for awhile that both handle with as much professionalism as possible. The closest thing to an openly romantic interaction with a crew member is probably Kirk kissing Helen Noel after Helen and Dr. Adams artificially screwed around with his memories and feelings—but we discover in the process that he was the one who refused to do more than dance at the Christmas party, when he backed off and scrupulously talked about space while Helen was the one with the unsentimental sex fantasy who keeps pushing his boundaries even in the present. That's why he's so unusually hostile; they were never together, even as a fling, and she hasn't taken no for an answer.

I guess Kirk and Mulholl agreeing to be possessed by married aliens for a final goodbye kiss is sort of ...? I mean. You get it, sometimes there's some sci-fi plot device, but nothing real and nothing while he has full control of his body and mind.

Kirk's real exes are all former long-term girlfriends, most of them also part of Starfleet and professionals in science or science-adjacent fields, but never crew members.

It's not 100% clear in TOS if the repeated statements and suggestions about lack of Starfleet restrictions on fraternization except wrt the captain is Starfleet policy, or just Kirk's personal stance. Kirk says he's not allowed to have a relationship of that kind with Janice Rand in "The Naked Time," but he's contracted the disease by then and it's part of a generally unhinged ramble. It's later stated that romance isn't forbidden on Starfleet vessels, but that's about crew romances in general and not the captain in particular. So it's difficult to know the real source of the ethical prohibition. Maybe there are actual regulations around this (makes sense) or maybe it's just a hard ethical line that Kirk has independently chosen for himself (also makes sense), but when he's functional and autonomous enough to be held responsible for his actions, this is a line he does not cross.

The point here is that, while I don't remotely blame other K/S fans for ignoring this inconvenient fraternization detail, Spock is a member of Kirk's crew. Yes, he's a senior officer and the highest-ranking person on the ship after Kirk himself, so maybe it wouldn't be as egregious as with someone else—but then again, maybe Kirk propositioning Spock would be considered even more unethical than propositioning Janice, since Janice at least has other authorities over her, while Spock answers directly to Kirk in the chain of command and will do virtually anything Kirk tells or asks him to do.

Kirk and Spock's relationship is intense and [gestures] everything enough that there are scenarios where I could imagine Kirk dropping this otherwise non-negotiable ethical line (the classic is, of course, "Spock's human heritage makes his pon farr cycle erratic and it comes back early ... oh no..."). I don't think we've seen any such scenario during TOS, though.

In any case, I feel like Kirk is unlikely to proposition Spock either romantically or sexually during the five-year mission. After years of constant proximity and yearning and ostensibly platonic hijinks and assuming it would never happen, I could see his resolve crumbling if Spock tried to initiate a romance with him. But that is also unlikely throughout most of TOS, because of Spock's own hang-ups around emotion and attachment—he's struggling with shame over feeling basic friendly affection, and in reality he feels far more than that.

I also don't think their true preferences when it comes to love, or their sense of what love really is for them, are inclined towards casual/undefined relationships or even poly relationships. So I don't personally envision them as FWBs or in a "they were in love but not taking it that seriously" scenario; I don't think either situation would be all that probable or desirable for them. They're both conspicuously jealous of anything or anyone that could possibly compete with their own absolute centrality in each other's lives; Spock never so much as kisses anyone without being dubconned into it and is guilty about having friends; Kirk's entire sexual history when it's not For The Mission is consistently geared towards long-term and sentimentally romantic relationships. Kirk supplies a very clear, emphatic description of love as he understands it:

Is he important to you, more important than anything? Is he as though he were a part of you? [...] But you can't really love him. You haven't the slightest knowledge of love, the total union of two people.

Kirk understands impossible/forbidden love in terms of some fundamental separation from a single beloved, being perpetually apart from them and unable to achieve the kind of absolute joining of lives and minds that he regards as love. (In some ways, this seems an incredibly Vulcan perspective on love, which, well.)

I think he and Spock are close to crossing the last barriers to that point of absolute union by "Turnabout Intruder," given their extreme intimacy as well as the very real possibility of grafting their lives and minds to each other in the way both pretty clearly crave. But I feel like there are only two ways it can really happen: 1) some wildly fortunate circumstance makes it ethically justifiable for Kirk to approach Spock, or 2) Spock makes the first move, which means that unless they're just randomly very lucky, everything hangs on him coming to terms with himself.

Then again, I also think Spock's arc across the show is building towards a point where he is coming to terms with himself in that way, with asserting what he wants, what bothers him, and what he's willing to reach for or accept. By the finale, I can believe he's truly on the point of getting there.

The movies hit the reset and retcon buttons hard, but taking TOS by itself as aired, the arc of their relationship and its development over the course of the show feels more hopeful to me. I can believe that S3 Spock has grown into himself enough to get to the point he needs to be at to make the first ("first") move before much longer. This is the Spock who essentially told Starfleet to go fuck themselves because they wouldn't let him jeopardize a fraught diplomatic situation to search for Kirk, told Sulu to scan for Kirk for potentially years, then defied explicit orders and tracked him down personally. There is very little he wouldn't do for Kirk by S3.

Kirk, meanwhile, has never been anything but 1000% receptive to whatever Spock is willing to give him; he spends a significant portion of TOS looking like he's about to dissolve into hearts at eye contact and a slight mouth twitch from Spock, if that. By S3, though, he's visibly more ground-down and tired, he's been put through further horrors that he often only escaped via his intimacy with Spock, and he's increasingly desperate for real connection. I can believe that at this point, he'd finally be at "fuck it" if Spock's love was on the table.

So I don't think that during the time period of TOS, their romance is formalized at all, or even acknowledged, or that they have a sexual relationship beyond the turbo-charged UST and frequent physical contact (to a degree that seems likely obscene on Vulcan. but as Spock no doubt justifies to himself, they're not on Vulcan). But I also think that by the end of the show, their dynamic has moved towards a stage where the shift to an unambiguously romantic relationship, even if hidden, feels inevitable and imminent. I genuinely feel like they're so close to full honesty with each other at this point that it can't be long, and that's with over a year of the mission left.

[femmefaggot]

what if i umm... like... gave u smth for the pure enjoyment of it for the first time

[snekdood]

personally, i dont see the fundamental difference between deleting your account and making a new one and deleting all your old posts, if we're talking about "running from ones past", then what are you tryna hide there, bud?

[akutasoda]

"let me kiss that anger away"

synopsis - you're mad at them and they cant stand it, but they can only hope their affection is enough to win you back as soon as possible

includes - jing yuan, argenti, mydei, phainon

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, comfort, slight angst, phainon + mydei may be a bit ooc, wc - 1.9k

jing yuan ★↷

unfortunately for you, although it may be perceived as fortunate, being the general's partner meant you had unconsciously signed yourself up to be his very own personal pillow.

jing yuan always truly lived up to his title as the “lazing general” and his laziness was forcefully rubbing off on you. after all, it had become an unspoken rule in your shared abode that the time you two got up was entirely determined by jing yuan's choosing.

every morning you would wake up long before jing yuan yet you could never leave the comfort of your shared bed (and his embrace) until he decided to finally get up. his arms would always be loosely wrapped around your middle, but not loose enough to let you escape, his legs would be intertwined with your own and his head resting firmly in the crook of your neck.

although there always remained one issue. while jing yuan was the luofu's general and didn't exactly have anyone to properly tell him off about his indolence, you weren't that lucky. admittedly you did get some slack for being the partner of the general, but it wasn't enough to stop your superiors from occasionally lecturing your ear off about time keeping and properness.

one too many of such incidents had led to you making the tough, but necessary, decision of sleeping separately to your lover until you rebuilt your superiors forgiveness.

and as expected, jing yuan was not a fan of such arrangements. he would linger by the door, watching as you prepared your sleeping area that wasn't shared with him, a childish pout close to forming on his face as he complained about being lonely and making false promises to let you go when you wake up just so long as you returned to his embrace.

it pained you but you had to stand your ground on the matter. soon enough jing yuan would retreat with a defeated sigh and hesitance in his steps - not too long later you would fall asleep, determined to finally be on time for the first time since you started living with jing yuan.

but you should've known that jing yuan wouldn't have given up as you were abruptly woken up in the middle of the night to a familiar presence holding you in his embrace.

you could barely open your eyes yet you still tried moving away but it was a futile effort as immediately the arms wrapped around your frame tightened and pulled you back. all that was left for you to do was to sigh in defeat and go back to sleep.

as usual , you woke earlier than jing yuan and yet you couldn't move anywhere although your shuffling was enough to wake him. jing yuan could only let out a smug smile when you glared at him and give your scowl a quick kiss as an apology for your inevitable lateness to work.

argenti ★↷

argenti was always a gentleman to you, constantly showering you in praise and pure admiration, going out of his way to do things for you and so on - admittedly most of the time it was subtle, but just enough for you to know what he was doing.

and so, if anything, the only thing you could ever get mad at him for was either his occasional habit to put himself into dangerous situations for the sake of others, or simply the fact that it sometimes felt like there was nothing you could ever do for argenti.

it was not unheard of or even a surprise that the knight of beauty was quite the romantic and due to the fact that he lived up to that title, it was a challenge for you to try and reciprocate that kind of level of affection as whatever you did felt like it pales in comparison to what he would do for you.

in hindsight it probably was rather a trivial matter to be getting “mad” over, but for once you'd like to be the one to do something meaningful that flustered him.

argenti didn't let your sudden change in mood go unnoticed. he observed how you seemed more irked lately, always staring him down with half a scowl in your face seemingly lost in thought - he was always left wondering what happened and if he did something to cause this. and indirectly, he did.

no matter how hard you could try to hide your plan of trying to find a way to do something for argenti that rivaled what he did for you, he would find out - argenti was always very attentive when it came to you.

and when he found out the specific nature of your idea, he couldn't help but feel enamoured but he didn't really want you going to those lengths for him. so he'd soon confront you.

a smile would soon grace his features, a genuine soft one that very admittedly made his heart flutter. he'd readjust himself so that he would be kneeling down on one knee, holding both your hands in his infront of you - the knight would then proceed to also look up at you with the most lovesick look you'd ever seen from him.

argenti would then proclaim how much he appreciated your efforts in trying to do something for him and elaborate on how it was a welcome but slightly unnecessary endeavour as long as he could make you happy, that was all that he cared about.

he would soon stand back up so he could give you a kiss - his apology and reassurance to you that as long as you were happy, there was nothing more he could ever have.

mydei ★↷

mydei was never one to anger you on purpose. although it may seem as though he would enjoy riling someone up, he would never do so to the people he cared about - at least not seriously, more in a playful gist.

so it was never a surprise for onlookers to see you glaring down mydei who in return would then have a smug smile plastered on his face.

he always knew that when he made a sly, almost childish remark, that you never took it too seriously as at this point you were used to his teasing. unfortunately for mydei, a more recent counter you had devised involved starting to avoid him.

it really served no other purpose than being a sort of petty way of getting back at him. at first, mydei simplu huffed at your attempts. he claimed they were futile endeavours and you'd come seeking his presence not too long after. unbeknownst to him, you're resolve ended up being stronger than his.

for as strong as mydei was, you were always going to be a weak spot for him and that didn't change upon your presence being missing from his, even if it was for a short period of time.

with each time you deployed this tactic, the wait time between seeing mydei and then seeing him come looking for you got shorter and shorter. mydei would find himself missing you, realising just how much he cherished you and how weirdly empty he felt without you by his side - something he'd never admit to your face but certainly would show in his actions.

by the time mydei would seek you out, he'd be in a huff. grumbling nonsense to you about leaving him alone for so long and even throwing in similar remarks to the teasing that got him in this situation but you would pretend to let those ones go unnoticed.

almost instinctively at this point he'd grab your hand and drag you away, somewhere that had less prying eyes that would happily feed their curiosities on you and mydei's relationship. and once he had achieved such, he'd sneak his arms around your middle before burying his head into the corner of your shoulder, still grumbling away to himself.

there would be a brief moment in which the two of you stayed there like that. once he'd have his fill of your embrace, mydei would lift his head to give you a kiss

mydei would soon pull away fully, passing a remark to never do that to him again, before gently and very desultory hitting you on the head before walking a way with a smile on his face.

phainon ★↷

being infuriated at phainon was a near impossible task. even if on the rare occasion you were, he was an individual who would do anything in his power to turn that around as quickly and as sensibly as possible - he would despise it knowing you were upset with him and whatever he did would be his responsibility to fix in a reasonable manner.

and that was always something he would strive to do. even if you're anger was a result of your day, phainon would take it upon himself to help you cheer up and calm down, hopefully aiming to aid in melting away your stresses and worries.

in all honesty, you would be lying to say that he wasn't effective at it. whether it was because of his own fault or not, it didn't matter so long as you returned to him and his embrace at the end of the day.

although that was easier said than done when it did end up being phainon who was the source of your infuriation. and yet he was always still determined to make it up to you - if anything phainon could be rather persistent at times, especially when it came to you.

he would give you the space and time without him to have your moment for yourself, and when both of your heads were level, with your anger replaced for a gentle yearning, phainon would be the one to seek you out first. however, when he did find you he would make his presence known but he would stay silent and while retaining a small distance to give you the space and control just in case you needed longer.

you always knew what he was doing and it was very much appreciated on your end. there was a comfort in knowing that phainon was always there for you, always willing to do what he can for you and him.

perhaps that's why you could never be angry at him for too long.

as soon as you gave him some sort of signal that it was okay for him to finally be with you again, he took the opportunity with barely contained excitement. he'd listen to your worries or whatever it was you needed to get off your chest but if you didn't feel like talking then, he'd also happily wait in silence for you.

although phainon could never stand to see your face shadowed in something negative. so regardless of whether you wanted to talk or not, he'd open his arms for you to fall into his embrace - an offer you'd take up most of the time, a silent promise that he was still there for you and into the future.

[sordidmusings]

Between Two Points - Ace

Art from the doujinshi Torch by NINEKOKS

Summary: You and Ace have had a ✨thing✨for a good while now so sharing a bed wasn’t strange for you. It was, however, absolutely tormenting Ace, who couldn’t keep his mind from every time you’ve touched. You wake up to find him wanting. You thought you could keep things quick and fun but they just keep on escalating. Especially when he begs to be inside you for the first time. 

A/N: oh how Ace has haunted me, especially while writing this lol he’s one of my top favs so brain said we extra need to do him justice 👏 pretty happy with the smut but I’m most happy with the ending scene - I wanted it to be sweet and silly and so very Ace. Part of the Between Two Points series (“just the tip” shots for separate charas)!

Warnings: nsfw, Implications of inexperience (Ace), first time together, sleepy sex (at first lol), subby Ace, he begs and thanks you like a lot, he calls you “pretty” as a pet name, praise kink both ways, emotionally fragile Ace, I didn’t mean for that to come out but he demands it, I just wanna shower him in love and validation until he Understands, until then he gets some pussy, multiple orgasms (for both yayyyyy), overstimulation on Ace, probably cumflation, definitely my obsession with men fighting not to cum, you make him suck the mess off your fingers, aftercare, silly banter to soothe the soul, fem!reader - kept it basically gn but then an old lady joke called to me at the end whoops

Word Count: 10.2k

Come get a serving of that soup ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

“If you see your daydreams in me, they'll not lack

What's been weighted in me, I'll make you quake with reason

I can feel your knees sinking into the bed

Searching in my dark eyes to break what’s been said

There’s a wake of grace, hunting your soreness down

There's a light in my skin that's been dimmed

I'mma dig you up and give you what I took

Pull you up and tuck you in and make you look

I'ma smooth your shoulders down and calm what's shook

It was all forlorn, if only for a season

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you”

“Can something like this be pulled

From under our feet?

Leaving our skin

And burning coals to meet

Tell me now

The shortest distance

Between two points

Is the line

From me to you”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Ace still can’t believe you’re in the same bed. Every step into intimacy he’s taken with you leaves him shocked and stumbling. He’ll keep tripping after you forever though because, gods, it’s you. You’ve done a hundred and one things to impress him in emergency and battle, to take his breath away with how you decorate yourself, to make him and others watch on in awe at your skills. Though, all of that pales in comparison to the simple act of you being you. You, who wormed your way into his mind with your quirks and open-minded talks. You, who could light up his body with a simple look, a tender touch, a loving smile. You, who took hold of his heart with your patient kindness and understanding. 

You, who is currently keeping him up with the delicious turmoil of holding you so close.

This is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. Now, you’ve done plenty of other things together, so Ace hadn’t thought that it would be such a big deal. When it hit him that he was really going to be falling asleep cuddled up to you, something so affectionate and domestic, his heart pumped an extra hard beat to wash tingles under his skin. He had thought the flush of excitement would peter off into comfort and contentment. To be fair, a part of it did. The problem is that the other part began incessantly bombarding him with thoughts of everything you could be doing in the bed besides sleeping.

His past experience with you is only making it harder where he thought it would ease his nerves at being close. The sweet or heated kisses you’d grab him to steal only make his lips lonely at their memory. The spark in your eyes as your kisses move southward haunts him and keeps his dick twitching pathetically against your thigh. The echoes of times he got to be the one with his head between your legs, smothering himself in the heady taste and smell of you, has him biting back whimpers. Fuck, he’s aching and flushed and desperate and all you’re doing is sleeping in his arms. He feels guilt creep in.

This should be enough. He shouldn’t be laying here wishing for more of you while you’re already so sweetly snuggling into his chest, offering him trust and affection. Holding you while you’re at your most vulnerable should sate him. Feeling how soft and warm you are with your weight sinking the two of you together should ease him to rest. Yet his mind keeps reminding him of the last time your weight was pressing on him, leaving him equal parts wound up and embarrassed.

As usual, you had been tapped right into when he needed you to escalate things but felt he didn’t have the right to ask. All day he’d been hovering around you, a hand always on arm or shoulder and eyes always ready to jump to you. He was chasing at your heels when you waved for him to follow you so you could settle him with some attention. He was pawing at you the moment your lips touched, moaning at the first rub of tongues, grinding right when you pressed deeper into him. 

Soon he was on the floor with you on his lap, your palms pressing your weight into his heaving chest and your hips working him over. He flushed an even deeper shade of pink when you told him how pretty he looks. The thought of it has his cock jumping even now, and he struggles to keep from grinding up into your lower stomach. He can feel a hint of your mound at the base of his cock, begging him to press harder to tease himself with your plush heat and the firmness of your pelvis underneath. Knowing your clit was hiding right there against him - in easy reach for him to make you squirm with pleasure, make such pretty pretty noises, think of nothing else but how good he’s making you feel - chips away at his resolve. 

The memory continues with the feeling of his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, caught between pulling you faster and shoving you off because he felt all too close to his end for a grown man who hasn’t even gotten his pants off yet. You were even still fully clothed but didn’t seem to pay that any mind as you circled and ground yourself on the hard cock trapped in his pants. Even with the layers, he felt how hot your cunt was getting, burning even more against him than your mouth when it took to painting a path through his freckles from cheeks to chest. When you took breaks to grind slowly over him, he felt the little moment where your hips slid before your clothes followed, delayed by you slipping through your own wetness first. His eyes rolled back at the fact that using him got you soaked and that out of everyone you chose him to sit your drooling pussy on.

With that thought and his grinds chasing you back, he felt his balls pull taught and his cock pound dangerously.

No, fuck, he hasn’t even made you cum - his clothes, fuck, he’s still in his clothes you, can’t see him cum in his pants like some pathetic boy, no nonono-

“Please,” Ace gasped out, using all his will power to still his hips and keep them pressed to the ground, “I’m- I’m too- please -hhah- you’re just so- fuck! Please, baby.” He was panting the words between moans, trying to find enough strength to hold your hips still. “Just s-slow down, I’m -nnnngh-” You just smiled devilishly down at him and kept picking up the pace. He grit his teeth and arched his head back, “I’m so fucking close- ah!”

He hides his face in the pillows and your hair even as the praises you had showered him in echo in his ears while he holds your sleeping body. His own painfully awake body shivers while he thinks of how hard he came, how each pump had felt like overwhelming bliss trapped against your heat and to the tune of your voice. It has him grinding against you before he can even think and sighing out in relief at a little bit of the touch he needs.

“Ace?”

Your sleepy mumble makes him freeze, every muscle taught like he grabbed a live wire.

“Why are you awake, honey?” The genuine concern in your sleep-thick voice only makes him feel worse. You try to lift your face from his chest, but a hand on the back of your head traps you there. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he swallows, hoping to trap the stutter back down. “Don’t worry - go back to sleep.”

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head and scratches your scalp to try and settle you. It works for a moment and he relishes in the feel of your body relaxing back against him. That is, until you shift to the side and snuggle deeper. Your thigh brushes his obvious hard on and you both tense. He panics when he feels your eyelashes tickle his chest, letting him know your eyes flew open wide.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks miserably. He’s confused when he feels you smile against his skin.

“Ace, honey, are you enjoying sleeping with me?” Even with the sleepy tone, you manage to get a lot of smug teasing in your voice.

“Yes?” That wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You sure?” you prod. “You seem awful tense.” 

You emphasize the last word with a firm press and rub of your thigh against his aching erection. His whole body shivers and a high sigh escapes him. His hands grasp you at hip and shoulder and he’s struck with the déjà vu of not knowing whether to drag you closer or make you stop. 

You’re having no such struggle, happy to find him a wanting mess. You’ll never get over seeing the confident and playful air he parades around with slipping off to reveal something fragile and seeking when you touch him. Sure, he won you initially with that part of him, charming you to his side like every other moth drawn to his inherent light, trapping you there with all the others under his protection and love. Knowing what pieces can lie under that blaze only makes the show more fun to watch. Knowing someone so powerful, so magnetic, feels the same way for you? Shows you places they’re scared to let others see? It’s your greatest rush and most cherished responsibility.

“You’re perfect, honey,” you praise. He just barely bites back a whimper. “Did you know I was dreaming about you?”

“You were?” Ace sounds much more disbelieving than you’d like.

“Mhmm, I do it often.” Your voice softens with honesty. “You’re always on my mind.”

There’s a slight tremble to Ace’s hold on you. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has closed too tight for words to pass. 

“I can prove it to you,” the flirtatious heat to your voice eases the fragile vulnerability away. Ace is yet again thankful for your sixth sense when it comes to his needs. Your thigh creeping its way over his leg and hips helps distract him from the pressure behind his eyes. You settle your leg when it’s resting centered on his sensitive head. The weight of your soft thigh easing down on him forces a shaky “hh-ah!” from him and he feels his face flush in embarrassment and need. You reward the sound with a kiss to his pec.

“Well?” you whisper. “Are you gonna check?”

“Huh?” Ace’s blood is all in the wrong head for him to understand anything but praise and orders. You giggle at him and it makes his dick jump against your thigh.

Taking mercy on him, you grab the hand that’s planted on your hip. Slowly, you lead it to the swell of your ass and press his large hand to grip at you. He does so eagerly, playing with the pliant flesh filling his warm hold. Your sleep shorts are thin, letting him feel you easily despite the barrier. He can’t resist the instinct to pull and spread you open. You hum happily at the feeling, arching into it. Ace blows out a tense breath, bedding his cheek into the top of your head and canting his hips up ever so slightly.

“So good, sweetheart,” you sigh. He squeezes down and turns his face to find comfort in the smell of your hair. “Let me show you.”

You urge his hand a little lower, right to the hem of your shorts. You only stop when his fingertips slip under and tickle the skin right beside the swell of your lips. You want him to decide this on his own. He teases the elastic for a moment before trailing the pad of his finger over your underwear right where the seam of your pussy is, starting from your entrance up to your clit and back. Another content hum leaves you, encouraging him, and he swivels his hand to cup your heat. He shivers at the hot breath curling over his chest, and his head swirls happily when you arch your hips up to push your cunt deeper into his palm. 

This time it’s your own hand gripping your ass to spread you open for him. You arch and nudge into his hold more, unintentionally grinding over his cock in your writhing. His fingers twitch, teasing your clit, sparking it to life and leaving you wanting. He’s having trouble keeping himself tempered instead of writhing when he can feel the dampness of your underwear and how they slide messily between his palm and your pussy. He wants it coating his fingers, smeared on his lips, maybe one day he can feel it soaking his cock- 

“Touch me,” you whine impatiently.

Hasty fingers push under the band of your underwear and slip between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ace moans. His voice is low in his chest but softened by his breathlessness. He takes his time petting around your entrance and enjoying the feeling of your lips slipping to encase his fingers when he flattens them out to reach your clit.

“Told you I was dreaming about you,” you mumble happily. Even though your body is heated and tingling, you’ve still got the weight of sleep pulling at you, leaving you in a content mix of dreaminess and pleasure. You relax further into Ace, happy to let him touch you as he likes in that tentative, worshipping way of his. It’s that endearing contrast to the brash and confident way he presents himself and fights. He always starts touching you like it’s an honor he doesn’t deserve, something he needs to take slowly lest he scare you off or never get the chance again. Even though you love the treatment, it breaks your heart that he thinks he’s so below you as to not deserve to touch you, let alone receive your affection.

The tip of a finger presses at your entrance, just enough to have the pad sink in. You swivel your hips to urge him further and moan when he listens to your plea. Ace moans with you, always amazed at your tight heat. It welcomes him easily despite gripping down snugly on his skin. He pulls his digit out with a curl, shivering when your muscles clamp back against him. You sigh his name in that dreamy way that makes him feel special, and he can’t help but add another finger and sink them in deep. Even though he’s in to the last knuckle, you shove your face down into his chest and your ass into the air to try and suck him in deeper. He rewards you by petting at your walls, drawing more pleasurable twitches from your cunt.

“More,” you whine. It’s half demand and half complaint and all turning his brain to mush. How quickly you are winding into desperation is only making his own need grow. He needs to hear more from you, he needs you to fix the burning under his skin, he needs fuck himself into a place so deep in you that you can never be rid of him.

“Need to be inside you,” Ace groans before he can think about the words. “Please, pretty baby, you feel too good-” he swallows thickly when you hungrily grind back onto his massaging fingers, “fuck -hah- need to know-” he can’t finish his sentence because you’ve snuck your hand down to palm his erection and stroke him in time with your thrusting hips.

“Think you’re ready to fuck me?” you ask. You meant to check in and make sure he was emotionally ready, but your breaths rushing out of you made it sound harsh.

“Please,” he begs, voice broken, holding you tight with his free hand, “I’ll make you feel so good- promise, promise.”

“I’m just worried-”

“It’ll be okay,” he promises immediately, “just a quick feel, you don’t even have to let me fuck you- just gotta feel you on my cock at least once.” He tries to win your favor by using his free hand to tease your clit.

“Ace,” you gasp. It’s hard to slow him down when he’s winding your body up so well. With a quick jerk, he shifts you up his body, giving him better leverage to work you on his fingers. It lands your face in the pillow next to his and he takes the opportunity to suck open mouthed kisses across your neck. You mean to talk to him and get a hold on how frantic he’s getting, but all you can do is let out muffled moans into soft cotton. 

“I’ll be good,” Ace whispers against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and humid and gets you one step closer to an orgasm lighting you on fire. “I’ll make you cum until you can’t worry anymore.” The fingers tweaking your clit and prodding your firming walls give weight to his promise. Your hips are already starting to stiffen and twitch with the oncoming climax. “I’ll keep begging, I’ll worship you, anything you want, just, fuck-” his voice breaks before he can stop it. “Please let me feel you.”

Ace feels like he can’t get enough air; he won’t be able to breathe if you pull away - he’s sure he’ll suffocate without you. His whole body is pulsing and alive with urgency, not just the cock straining against his pants. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is you. Your pretty moans slipping out, half-covered by the pillow. Your searching hands, grasping and working his body over in search of something to hold on to. Your chest blanketing his own, ebbing and flowing in waves with your heavy breathing pressing into him. Most of all, the slick, plush grip of your cunt around his fingers, singing to him in little wet slaps every time it welcomes his fingers back home.

“Ace, I’m-” you turn your head towards him so he can hear and find him already looking at you. His flush is deep enough to try and hide his freckles and his pupils are blown enough to turn his brown eyes black. His slack jaw lets your breaths mingle. The pressure of his fingers on your clit increases just the slightest bit, but it’s just right to get your body to clamp down and not let go. “I’m so close, gonna cum, please, love-” Ace sobs out a moan at the new pet name and presses the fingers inside you even more insistently “ahhn! Don’t stop, don’t stop, gonna-”

You suck in a greedy breath and it’s trapped in your lungs as your body starts to seize up. The hit of pleasure has you curling as close as you can into Ace, needing to clutch him when the first wave crests heavily. His fingers follow you when you squirm to center fully on top of him, soothing you through the ride with gentle pumps into your twitching walls. You breathe again after a moment, letting out a flurry of praise into Ace’s shoulder. The little shakes of your hips make you rub against his trapped cock and his eyes roll back against his wish to keep watching you. 

The way your pussy clamps down on his fingers is absolute torture. Pressed so close with his eyes shut, he can almost imagine the rhythmic waves of your spasming cunt milking him while he fucks you full of cum. It has him panting along beside you like he was the one who just came. 

You’re easing down from your high, swollen walls settled along his now unmoving fingers. The sound of your panting settles with you and the room starts to still into a cozy calmness. Your muscles feel liquid and uncooperative as you try to adjust into a comfier position. The movement yet again rubs you against Ace and he whimpers at the heavy gush of precum it pulls from him.

With a pained sound, Ace wiggles the hand that had been toying with your clit out from under your hips and past his sensitive cock to draw shapes on your back. The action brings the smell of sex closer up to his face and he can’t help but groan. Fuck, he doesn’t want to push you or bother you, but the high of seeing you cum has passed and left him even more wanting.

“Pretty?” Ace starts softly. He kisses at your temple and you hum in reply. “...please?”

You hum again, only half hearing him between the orgasm taking the wind out of your sails and that wind having only been a small gust in the first place given it was somewhere around the witching hour.

“I still need you,” he urges, pressing his hips up gently for some miniscule relief and to make you understand. He’s scalding hot below you and throbbing into your lower stomach and it starts to bring you some clarity.

“While I’d love to continue, I’m tired,” you sigh. Before he can apologize or take it the wrong way, you continue. “Normally that wouldn’t really be a problem, but I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed the first time I fuck you.” Even with the casual way you’re talking, Ace sighs happily and pulls you tighter at the idea. Before you can think about how you’re about to contradict your words, your mouth moves and you’re back to riling him. “I’ve thought of our first time together a lot, and I’m going to treat you to much more than some sleepy sex.” He shivers and moves back to mouthing at your neck at the promise. “I want you sitting pretty under me while I show you everything I can do to you.”

“But I’m under you now,” Ace argues.

“You are, and you’re doing so good at the looking pretty thing too,” you sigh in mock defeat. You feel him smile against your neck, both from the praise and from gaining some ground. Gotta get that idea back out of his head. “I don’t wanna leave you hanging, but I want to do more for you the first time you’re inside me.”

Ace doesn’t share that worry. He’s more worried about using his free hand to start guiding your hips in slow circles to feel the motion around the fingers still sitting inside you. It also teases his still leaking cock and makes it painfully easy to imagine the sensation blending so his cock feels the circles and the grip of your cunt. It flutters on his digits and he flexes his hand to feel the twitching muscles better, putting pressure towards your lower stomach. You keen at the burn it sets in your nerves, arching against his hand to feel more. Shoved so snuggly into your body, Ace’s fingers pick up the thump of your racing heart beating behind the walls of your pussy. He’s never needed anything more than he needs to feel it tapping against the racing pulse of his own heart pulsing through his cock.

“Please, pretty, please please ple-hease” he begs again, beyond reason. “What if- what if we don’t fuck? What if you just let me inside you to keep me warm?”

The idea is quite tempting. You kiss at the side of his face, giving yourself time to enjoy the fantasy of cockwarming him. It’s one you’ve come back to many times in your daydreams of him. Still, you want to fuck the sanity out of him the first time he’s inside you.

“Ace, no-”

“Just the tip.” The words are rushed and breathless and broken. “What if it’s just the tip?”

You realize there’s no reasoning with him and you’re losing the want to try. It’s not like you haven’t been wanting to fuck him since lust rode in on the coattails of “wow he’s pretty and so sweet”. He’s not the only one hiding insecurities though, and you frequently fear that if you don’t keep up the trend of blowing his mind with all the physical stuff then he’ll get bored of you. You can’t accept your first time together being anything less than perfect; the very idea fills you with dread, so much so that the potent temptation of Ace writhing and begging and even just his fingers making you feel so fucking good hasn’t shaken it off you.

“I can’t-” Ace swallows hard, “I can’t just keep dreaming about it, please, fuck, pretty, I need you.”

You believe him. You’ve never heard him so lost before in all your times fooling around. He’s prone to his tongue loosening the longer you touch and this is far from the first time he’s pleaded with you, but this felt different. There’s a frantic undertone to his voice and the words spilling from his lips. There’s truth to the emotion turning his grasp into a delicious mix of powerful and trembling. There’s no arguing with the twitching length grinding into your lower stomach - no way you can deny how hard he feels or the heat of it burning against you even through your clothes. It’s enough to make you lose yourself to the thought of getting to clamp down around his firm cock while the length finds places to toy with much deeper than you can reach. You can tell from the shape against you his width would press back at every nerve you’ve got, waking them up and making them sing. 

You come back to reality when he sneaks in a deep thrust of his fingers. The wet sound makes him moan, and the responding clench turns it into a deep, throaty “fuck”. His head flies back as he arches and grinds. You look up from the pillow and see his pretty black waves piling next to the sharp cut of his jaw. The bob of his throat as he swallows matches the jump of his cock. You feel every detail of it and notice he’s leaked enough to soak through his shorts and your shirt, leaving a sticky spot against your skin.

“You make me feel so good,” Ace moans. “I can make you feel good too.”

The fact that he thinks he needs to convince you of that even with his fingers stuffed in you, held tight with how your cunt’s swelled from pleasure, proves he’s very far from rational thought.

“You did,” you promise with a sweet kiss to his neck. “Now it’s your turn.” His head shoots up to give you a hopeful look. “You’ve cum from less, isn’t this enough?” You swirl your hips down against him to illustrate your point.

“It’s not about cumming,” he grumbles, suddenly sounding a bit more coherent and honestly a bit offended. “I wanna be closer.”

That throws you so off guard you just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“We could take off our clothes?”

Ace doesn’t give you time to take it back, his hands flying from you and already shoving his shorts down his thighs. He sighs in relief when his cock springs free, and nudges his head into yours mindlessly in relieved affection. Too impatient to finish the task, he stops pushing his shorts while they’re halfway down to instead get his hands under your shirt. You go to finish what he started but get distracted taking handfuls of his waist and thighs. When you thumb at the descending line of his adonis belt, Ace can do nothing but press into your touch, even pausing his mission to get under your clothes.

You lay yourself back on Ace, now trapping his dick between his twitching abs and the soft skin of your stomach and the tease of trimmed hair on your mound. Somewhere in his brain he thinks he should be ashamed of how he’s an absolute mess from something so simple as feeling your skin on his cock. At the moment, the shame is overshadowed by sheer need and awe. This is you - he’s dreamed of this, agonized over it, sat drowning in a mind and body desperate to find a way to get you to look at him, let alone touch him. Even when you started pulling him with you for teasing tastes on top of your shared missions together, all the time between had them feeling fake. Getting to have you feels so foreign and unattainable that his brain writes it off as false memories when you aren’t in his hands. 

And that’s why he holds you all the more tightly when you’re in reach. He needs you cemented in his grip and sunk into every sense so you’re all he knows. No questions, no doubts, no loneliness, no hollowness, just the comfort of you. He gets his lips back on yours before he breaks.

You hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear but it’s not quick enough for Ace. He grabs them in a tight fistful and yanks. Your spread thighs keep them from getting lower than the end of your ass and Ace whines into your mouth. Trying not to break the kiss, you lean onto your right leg and try to work the other out of your clothing. It’s a clumsy and messy affair, each of you using a hand to tug at the garments while the other is busy trying to feel and hold as much of each other as possible. You lean back to look and finally get the damn thing off and Ace chases you the whole way. Between the hot slide of tongue, the nipping on lips, and the dancing rolls of kiss and grind you manage to get your left leg completely free of clothing.

“Fuck, pretty, how -hhh-ah!- do you do that?” Ace moans breathlessly after you set your hips back on him.

“Do what?” You’re moving your clit up and down his shaft in torturously slow grinds, mind fuzzed with the feeling of your wetness making you glide so smoothly on him.

“Make me -mmnngh!- fuck-” You circle your clit around his sensitive head, turning his speech into a few heaving breaths and groans. “Make me forget everything.”

Your lips are back on his in a rush, too fast for you to get out all the loving words living in you. First it’s as insistent and firm as your hips are working him over. After a long minute though, he’s lost too much breath to do much more than pant and hump into you in a desperate chase to feel more and more. You begin laying quick kisses to his cheek and land one in the shape of a smile on the corner of his open mouth. You feel it curl up under the press of your lips. 

“You m-make me happy,” Ace admits, a twinge of nerves managing to show through all the arousal in his voice. You bump your nose to his gently. 

“You’re my happiness, Ace.”

He whines and screws his eyes shut even more tightly. You feel his cock throb heavily against you. Taking advantage, you change to little circles against him and feel the pressure of it tease at your clit and entrance. A hand snakes into your hair and grips, holding you steady to press your foreheads together. His eyes crack open to search yours for lies. Even in the rush of your grinding bodies, the eye contact is still and sturdy as steel.

“You can’t just say that,” Ace breathes.

You feel how close he is, even harder than before and thrusts getting stilted in an attempt not to cum. You set on that singlemindedly, needing to hear his breathy broken moans, feel him squirm and jerk, shove him straight into a headspace empty of all but bliss. You get your own hand in his hair and tug, earning a moan and more pleads. Busying your mouth with his neck, you begin sliding along his whole length at a quick pace. The burn in your thighs is nothing compared to the pressure building between your hips, getting tighter and brighter with every swipe.

“No, holy shit, so close, s’close -hah hahngg-“ Ace starts babbling, “wanna cum in you, I’ll do anything, I’ll -mnnngh- anything please, fuck, too good, so fucking wet, so -fuck- can’t, please no, no ‘m gonna cum-“

You suck and teethe at the sensitive spot behind his ear and twist your grip in his hair, sure that would throw him over. Instead he lunges forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder and his hands clamp onto your hips to hold them perfectly still. You’re reminded of the power in the man who falls apart for you. It makes you clench and gush against him with a throaty moan. He holds on for dear life through it, tensing and throbbing and leaking and just barely managing to hold off his orgasm.

Once he’s sure he’s relatively safe, he lets go of your shoulder and begins kissing over the slight indents. The gentle touch feels electric on the tender skin. He continues to hold your hips prisoner, imobile against his own. After some deep breaths he pulls back to look at you. 

“I don’t want it to ever stop,” his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble, but not as much as his words. “Please.” That commanding grip lightens. He slides his hands so he can massage his thumbs into the creases where your thighs meet your hips, sending sparks under your skin. “Just a little of you.”

Your resolve finally breaks and you agree. “Just the tip.”

“Thank you,” Ace rushes out. “Remind me to take you out and spoil you.”

You huff out a laugh even though you’re pretty sure he’s serious. 

“As if you don’t try already.” 

You shimmy forward and he rights you into his grip again; getting you on him with as much skin to skin as possible, just where you belong. It makes maneuvering a bit more difficult but neither of you care; you’re too busy enjoying each other’s heat and taste.

“No goofing, just romance.”

His arms encase you while yours frame him, taking time to touch skin and play with his fluffy hair. You’re firmly settled against him, laying with your cunt just in reach of his leaking head. Each breath presses you deeper into each other and lets pressure tease at your breasts. You take a moment to sneak fingers to your sides so you can tweak his nipple. The shocked hiss is one of your favorites. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You reach back to grab hold of him and give him a few firm strokes, just to hear his pretty gasps. “The gentleman act isn’t as fun without the goofy contrast.”

“It’s not an a-aahhhhhhnn-“ You use your grip on him to circle his head on your entrance and press back just enough for the weeping tip to catch. After drawing out the sensation for a few more breaths, you move to sit up for a better angle to give him a shallow ride, but he stops you.

“Stay.” Even though it’s an order it sounds like a plea. At your confused look he continues, “If you stay like this I won’t be able to start fucking you if I lose myself.”

He feels you clench against his cockhead and it twitches in response, desperate to sink just a little deeper and letting you know with a pressure that hovers just under enough to finally slip into you. He knows “if” was too weak a word; the moment he feels the plush heat of your cunt he’s a goner. He’s had ambition and determination and stubbornness woven through parts of his being since his first breath. Yet they all fail him when he aims them at restraint here. Staring down a warlord was easier than fighting his bone deep desire for you. You just have a way of making him feel so full of life that it circles back around to an endless emptiness unless he’s smothered in your presence. Like any addict, the starting hits were no longer enough and he’d chase bigger and bigger ones til he had the endless high of being always near and always yours. His body being newer to such waves makes it easier for his instincts to take over him when more becomes not enough.

You feel the slick skin of his tip licking at your entrance with each breath you both take, so focused on every little motion you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your cunt. You start pressing back more.

“Wait,” Ace gasps. He plants a hand at the back of your head and turns it to face him. You meet blown pupils in shiny eyes, brows fighting not to pinch, freckles dancing with every word and expression. His warm breath tickles your swollen lips and you can taste its sweetness on your tongue. You want to keep looking around his pretty face but his pleading eyes have you locked in their heat. “Look at me.”

You barely think to give him a shaky nod. 

Ace reaches his other hand down to join yours on his shaft. It slips easily around your grip and holds gently, letting you keep control. Your hand feels so hot between his large one and the beating cock in your palm. Testing his grip, you slowly pump down his shaft, a slick sound from the dripping of your cunt and his precum sliding through your fingers, and make your way back up to the tip with a twisting wrist. His hand trembles around yours and he curses against your lips but he simply follows your movements.

Happy with the reaction, you continue on. He begins sinking in and his brows furrow further. The slow pace lets him feel every bit of texture, every flutter of the muscles of your entrance as they greet him. He’s in enough for you to encase his slit and you both feel the reward of a thick gush of precum spilling right into you. You breath out a syrupy “so good” and Ace fights again not to cum again - it gives him visions of fucking you fast and deep until you’re hiccuping those words and he’s pumping you full for real. He doesn’t want to be hasty though, he might miss a single second of this blissful torture.

His dick is pressed in to a catch, hovered right where his head flares widest. You hold him steady and give a little circle of your hips to feel him play with your stretching entrance.

“-hah- holy o-oh -nnnngh- thank you thank you,” he mumbles and moans between trying to breathe. His eyes roll back and screw shut for a moment before he fights them back open to watch your hazy eyes and slack jaw. He pulls you forward by the hand in your hair to press your foreheads together. Those fingers begin a haphazard massage as they switch between grasping for grounding and petting at you in adoration.

You take in a lungful of his breath and his musk and the ambient sex and shimmy just a little lower. At last, your cunt gives to let the rim of his head pop in, finally warming you from the inside. It immediately has you clench down and you can’t help but moan pathetically at finally having something to clench down on. The burning skin of his cockhead presses back at the twitching walls of your cunt, sending jolts up your spine.

“Y-you -ahh- you’re so-“ Ace is struggling against his scattered mind and an ocean of oxytocin to get you to understand how perfect you are and how his chest is so full it aches and how he’d fight through pirates, marines, the whole world government just to be this close to you again. All that comes out is a grumbling, fervent moan of “warm”.

You clench again at the word and he whimpers. You slip your hand off of his cock and out of his grip before using it to make him hold his cock for you. It gets the sticky mess all over him, which he quickly uses to twist his hand slowly up and down his shaft. You follow the movement for a few pumps then bring your hand up to your faces. You’d wanted a taste but you get a better idea. 

The moment the pads of your fingers touch Ace’s lips, he opens them just a bit wider for you. He can smell the heady mix of you both and his mouth waters eagerly. Slowly and deliberately, you sneak two fingers past his lips and press them on his tongue, his eyes burning into you the whole time. He’s quick to seal his lips and suck, hot tongue roving over your digits to collect every drop. You can hear the wet sound of his working hand get faster. You shove your fingers in to the last knuckle and he swallows them down greedily, moaning the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep yourself still; the fucked out look on Ace’s flushed face and the attention feeding but not sating your cunt make you squirm. All the movement from his jerking, constantly getting faster and firmer, has his cockhead massaging every nerve of your entrance and reverberated through your lips and clit, sinfully delicious yet maddeningly subtle. Your body is begging for him to force his way deep, split you around his thick cock, feel that pounding drag against every inch of your swollen and pulsing pussy. Instead, you have to settle for a slow tilt and pull of your hips, guiding the head sitting heavy in you to press more one way then the next. One particularly hard pump of his hand sends a strong shock to your clit and you grip him with your hands as tightly as your core wrings down around him. A heavy throb of his cock gushes more precum into you. 

Hearing how much he’s struggling to breathe fast enough through his nose, you pull your fingers from his mouth to instead pull at his hair. He’s mumbling out curses and praises between frantic kisses around your lips. The battle to stare into your eyes is becoming lost; Ace’s won’t stop rolling back and fluttering closed and losing focus. You can practically taste how close he is and it sets your whole body alight. You’re sure when he cums you’ll be able to feel the pleasure in your own body.

“Ace,” you call and his eyes crack open to see you again. His lashes are so dark and long and make his eyes look all the darker. “Need to feel you cum.” The words are rushed and urgent, trying to sneak around gasps and moans. “Love, I want you t-to -mnnn!- fuck me full.”

“Fuck!” The word “love” echoes violently around Ace’s head, and he’s so wound up and frayed he’s scared he may actually catch fire. His scramble is immediate - hands flying down to clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking deep into your skin, head thrown back giving you a full view of the flush hiding his freckles, the strong jaw working between going slack and gritting his teeth, but most importantly his hips thrust against his will. A mindless,  ravenous instinct locked in place and told him to rut until neither of you could move, until each thrust wrung more cum from him only to have it gush out of you because how could you possibly hold more?

Unfortunately, Ace had planned ahead. Your precarious alignment lets the first few thrusts sink him just a centimeter deeper, the relief of more of you only matched by the insatiable need to have all of you. Just when he feels the knot of pleasure pull his balls taught and tense his cock hard as a rod, a thrust knocks him loose.

Ace lets out an actual wail as he loses your heat. The bliss of his orgasm gets lost with it, ebbing away quickly and leaving him frantic.

“No fuck I- please I was so close, shit-,” Ace sobs right by your ear where he’s nestled himself close for comfort.

Needing to calm him and missing the feeling of him too terribly, your hand goes back to his cock while you distract him with sloppy open mouthed kisses. You find him easily and try to settle him with a few firm pumps. Ace is relieved as the feeling comes back fast and he’s already tensing and squirming and curling his toes as his orgasm beats to life in his cock again. 

 “That’s it, love,” you encourage. “I’ve got you.”

“Can’t, cumming cummingcumming-“ Ace chants urgently, kicked straight over the edge by your care. You rush to get him back inside you first but his cock’s already kicking in your grip. The first spray of cum lands where your thigh meets your ass and the second splashes over your pussy. By the third you’re pressing him back in. The whole time Ace is moaning high and gasping and pulling you to him like he needs you to breathe. He’s squirming and handsy, back arching off the bed while he takes any handful of you he can get. You feel the heavy pump of his next spurt of cum and fall to instinct yourself. You push your body down his and plop the weight of your hips in his lap, taking him in one swift motion and a heavy slap.

“Yes! Y-ye-nnnghah!- yesss thank you thank you so good so good s’good-“

You grind yourself in a heavy drag, forward and back, relishing having him all the way inside you. He feels thick enough to press your hips wide and long enough to punch at your lungs. Each grind has him play with your insides, lighting every nerve to make you feel like he’s filled you from head to toe. Each grind also has a fresh throb press at your cunt and spurt more sticky cum where his head twitches against your deepest spots. It has an unfamiliar pit swallowing the orgasm that’s nearly formed in your core, filling your nerves with a new life. You pick up the pace, needing more of that deep seated burn you can feel with each rub of him in the pit of your gut.

Ace whines as his sensitive cock has less and less to give yet keeps up its pumping. He’s beside himself, feels completely out of control of his muscles and voice as he grinds and moans and pleads, yet somehow his hands help press your hips harder into his, adding strength to your ride with every push and pull. He’s left slack jawed at the feeling, mouth hung open to let out every humid pant and desperate sound. He can feel your thighs clamp up around his hips, your fingers claw frantically at his chest, your hips begin to shake and jump. Most of all he can feel the coming orgasm sink into the muscles of your cunt as they swell and twitch and begin to clamp down on him like a vice. 

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop-“ now you’re chanting to him and he feels a new rush flow through his body. The ending orgasm is replaced with new interest amid the burning haze of overstimulation. Every fiber in him knows that he just needs to make you cum and he’ll know what heaven is like.

Ace sits up quickly to meet you, detouring to mouth over your swaying chest and enjoy a taste of your perked nipples before he gets some space to watch your blissed out face and writhing body. He begins thumbing at your clit while his other hand urges your hips up a few inches. For a moment you keep your hips moving but they freeze when Ace plants the hand that was on them behind him and his feet on the mattress and he starts to fuck up into you. They’re shallow, staccato slaps of his hips into yours, sloppily pushing his cum out of you to make stickier sounds, sending vibrations rattling through the underside of your clit still pressed under his thumb, and it’s exactly everything you ever needed. 

The deep pit his fat cockhead taps at again and again pulls taught until your whole cunt squeezes and then you feel like you burst. A breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a holler of his name and you curl forward to cling to him. You try and ride out the high as it seizes you, shaking through your hips and legs and tightening its fist around your whole core. You don’t remember an orgasm ever massaging through you like this before - pulling heavy waves of clamp and release from your cervix to your entrance, each one making Ace’s cock feel even bigger and the pressure of that cock forcing you to stay open makes you nerves sing and dance tingles through your clit and up your spine and under your skin. 

You’re not the only one stuck at it’s mercy; Ace’s head is empty of all but the way the sensation ravages through his nervous system, taking his body from him and commanding it to hold you closer, harder, to fuck you faster, firmer. He knows his mouth is moving, but he’s not sure what it’s saying. His head is full of curses and wonder and “thank you”s and “love you”s but he has no clue what’s making it past. The only things he seems to hear are the roaring of his blood in his ears and the stream of praise tumbling from your lips. You gasp out, “Ace! Fuck, you’re so -hahn- perfect”, and he sears it in his brain forever. The way you pray your pleasure to him, bleed his name and “love” together as if they’re the same thing, it has his head spinning and his heart swelling and cock burning.

The pulses of your high get further apart so you force will into your legs and bounce with Ace to chase them. After a few though, his feet slip out straight and both hands are back on your hips to guide your thrusts and hold you tight. He’s kissing down the side of your face then hiding himself in the crook of your neck, where he can switch between kissing the taste of salt off your skin and huffing in lungfuls of the scent of your hair and skin and sweat and sex. He can taste his bliss on every moan he chokes out, can feel it throb closer with every clap of your hips he just clap needs a little more, needs the way clap your fingers tug his hair clap yes just like that and clap fuck, the way your pussy clap sucks him in clap so so close, just-

“Fuck, Ace, can’t breathe -hahnngh- too much, don’t let it stop -ah!- please, need you-“ 

He whimpers and crushes you in his hold, forcing you to sit still with him pressed as deep as he can go so he can feel every inch of you while he cums again. The first wave hits and he surges forward when his abs clamp tight, knees pulling up behind you to fully surround you. 

“Again?” You manage to gasp against his cheek.

“Yes,” he whines, “you’re just- fuck, fuck!”

It’s near painful to cum so hard so quickly after the last. His head is murky and floating at the strange sensation of the orgasm tearing through his muscles to make him grind and pump into you without having anything to gush out. Your body still seems happy enough with the offering though, completely in sync to milk out everything he could possibly give. 

It’s the perfect end to your high to be in your body enough to take in every bit of his high moans and mumbling and feel every bit of touch his instincts have him showering over you. He keeps nosing at your neck for comfort and tickling the sensitive skin there with kisses and words spoken right against your skin. His hands are deeply kneading the flesh of your hips, petting in trembling fingers and always pulling to keep your hips flush to his. His abs tense and jump, both with his stuttering breath and with the strong pulls of his dick every time it tries to force more out of him in a soul-deep need to fill you with him until he’s a permanent piece of you. His thighs are doing much the same, jostling you slightly against him from how he’s curled around you. Yes, this is exactly what you needed to cap your high and ease you back into reality. Especially with that deep voice of his showing off its range.

“Thank you, thank -nnngh- you, wanna be this close forever -ahhh- never -mm!- stop feeling you, love this, l-love y-y-hah!”

You guide him the whole time, petting his hair, kissing his temple, teasing his skin with your nails, and holding his back. The way he clings to you sets you ablaze but also lets you know how desperately he needs to feel held. His firm hold and your returning squeezes are the anchor that secures you both through the torrent and the drop from sharing bodies. Because of the affection, that drop is a landing in pure comfort and relaxation. Your muscles are all becoming liquid and you simply melt into each other and breathe. 

Ace may have never finished that thought out loud, but he continued it in the affection of his lips pressing so tenderly to your heated skin. He made it clear in the reverence of his hold on you, full of trailing fingertips worshipping your shape and gentle squeezes closer with warm and supportive palms. You understood from the cozy sway he set while drawing his temple up the side of your face to then skim the tip of his nose over your cheek and rest your foreheads together then find stillness. All the words he didn’t say came through in your shared breaths, which grew from humid puffs to a slow and smooth rhythm.

Just in case you missed the rest, he brushed his lips across yours, light enough to tickle before easing forward to mold them together. Your lips part to taste him once more and he indulges you, happily slipping his tongue between your lips for another dance. It’s unhurried how you kiss, lips firm and sure in how they press and drag together, tongues brushing slowly not to arouse but to simply enjoy. The slick sounds of the deep kisses ring in your ears in the quiet room along with the hushes of breath slipping between you two. Ace pulls in one particularly deep breath through his nose before breaking the kiss to sigh his happiness out. The whole thing is punctuated by one last sweet peck.

“I feel it too, Ace,” you promise.

His voice is thick when he whispers out once more, “Thank you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and press a smile to his skin. Ace tilts his head just so to rest it on yours and closes his eyes to simply be. You’re not sure how long you stay sat in his lap holding him. Instead of the tick of a clock you have the swell of his breaths and the brush of his thumb. Now and again he’d start and leave a subtle sway or press kisses to your hair or squeeze you just a little tighter. You’d respond to it all in kind but his favorite was when he could feel a smile press your cheek into his collarbone or when you’d rest your hand over his pec just to better feel his heartbeat. 

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arms cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”. 

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to say no to that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out expectantly and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had. 

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you. 

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever. 

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed 🥰 Please let me know if you did and criticisms are also welcome 🤍

Restarting tag list because Overthinking lol please lmk if you want to be on one! Even if you think it's obvious. I am: Stupid and Anxious 💀

Between Two Points Masterlist - separate character shots for the “just the tip” trope

Masterlist

[obeymeluv]

Getting Kidnapped was Not on the List! [Malleus x Reader]

Trigger warnings: Mentions of being eaten alive. Mentions of body pain/descriptions of shifting.

Not proofread.

The future king of Briar Valley isn't sure why he has such a feeling of impending doom, but it worries at him. He looks out the window of his room in Diasomnia as if he can see across the cobblestone and into town where you're supposed to be shopping right now. Malleus hums, green eyes narrowing as the book he's reading presses into his lower lip.

Yes, something is certainly amiss.

He feels tingly, like his very nerves are pricking and sparking at something. Malleus stands to his full height, putting the book down as he makes his way outside. There's nothing unusual in the sky, no ominous clouds, but he feels the shimmer of a glamour in the air.

It's faint, but he can sense it. Nowhere near the school, he'd gather. Wherever it is, he can't quite pinpoint it. He heads back inside to grab some snacks for the crows and ravens that call the trees around Diasomnia home. Hearing the familiar rattle of croutons, seeds, and nuts, a few of them perk up and call curiously. "Come, my friends!" Malleus encourages, sitting on the stone bench outside the dorm. They swarm, wings fluttering impatiently as he picks balanced handfuls and lays them at their feet. "Now that you're fed," Malleus leans down to them and speaks casually, like he's having tea with Sebek or Lilia, "would you mind doing a bit of scouting for me? There seems to be an active glamour and I'm curious. You would be rewarded handsomely, I assure you." They take off and he chuckles. Loyal familiars, birds. His grandmother adores them, too. Malleus brushes crumbs and bits from his pants, pushing off of the bench. All at once his chest seizes and Malleus startles.

It's enough to knock the air out of him. Is it...terror?

His phone rings in his pocket and he fishes for it, growling through the fluttering squeeze in his chest. "Hello?"

"Malleus! Help me, please!"

"Child of Man?! What's wrong?!" Malleus felt his fangs growing, threatening to cut his own tongue. The tremble in your voice, the fear, sent his stomach churning and boiling. He could feel the muscles in his back rippling as he lost his grip on his own glamour, the extra ligaments and bones needed for his wings threatening to tear his human shoulders as he staved off shifting from a biped to a quadruped.

"You dare call upon the future king?!" he heard a voice sneer with rage and disbelief. "Insolent, disgusting thing!"

"How dare you?!" Malleus roars, wincing as his jaw pops a little. His human mouth pales in comparison to the wide maw of his dragon form. Pearly teeth click against each other as they begin lose their human shape. "You shall not address my Child of Man in such a way!"

"My liege, please--"

"You call me liege but fail to state your name! That is TRUE insolence!" Malleus feels the claw on his thumb cut his cheek. He doesn't care. "To WHOM do I speak?"

"E-Elm Leafdance, sire."

The name is somewhat familiar. He vaguely recalls a miserly fae always moping about and telling old tales about horrible humans. Everyone in the castle could recite them word for word. Lilia was at odds with him, he recalled. At one point Elm had been accused of kidnapping Silver but Lilia never made a formal complaint before the court so it faded into obscurity.

"Unhand my Child of Man, Leafdance! If you have qualms with them, I shall be addressed in their stead. Come to me at once!"

"A most generous offer, young king," the fae is stuttering now, "but leaving would prove costly to, your, um...Child of Man..."

He can barely comprehend through the haze of rage. Malleus feels his chest burning to a nauseating degree, the green fire begging to be set free. Wisps of smoke slither from his lips. He snorts, expelling most of it. If Leafdance cannot leave you unattended, that means you're at the mercy of some kind of enchantment with sentience that he controls.

That sentience would diminish with distance and who knows how that would leave you? Clearly you're being restrained if it would prove 'costly'. The idea of you being in any peril ESPECIALLY from a fae has Malleus seething. His phone is barely holding on; Malleus can feel the fractured screen poking his cheek.

He turns sharply towards Diasomnia, half-floating as he jumps from ledge to crenel, climbing up a merlon to stare at the town in the distance. "Raise your sigil and I shall come to you." Malleus snaps the phone even though he tried to mash the 'end call' button. Putting his thumb through it just pressed everything inward and it crumpled like a can.

Malleus casts the broken phone aside, watching the sky out of the corner of his eye as he ascends the main tower of Diasomnia. It is one of the taller point on campus, only rivaled by NRC itself. He hunches, releasing his glamour.

His grand shadow looms over Diasomnia, wings stirring gusts as he launches off the stone. The stone crumbles a bit, his claws leaving scratches. Malleus doesn't remember the last time he flew in his true form but the wind cutting around his scales feels nice. A glittering leaf sparks in the distance and he bellows, pawing at the air as if that will help him rise faster.

Malleus catches an updraft, oblivious to Lilia ripping out of Diasomnia's storage room on a broom. The prince darts forward, his eyes hard and pupils slitted. His tail whips to and fro, top layer of scales raised and acting as a stabilizer.

He breaches the enchantment and lands in the clearing. Sadly, the thought to land ON Leafdance didn't cross his mind. The ground trembles beneath him, claws sinking into the soft grass. Malleus lowers his head to Leafdance not as a greeting, but to better see the cretin that dares harm his cherished Child of Man.

"S-Sire!" the chestnut-haired man squeaks, "H-How nice to see you!"

Malleus snorts in response, knocking the fae back. I cannot say the same, Malleus glares at the fae, green embers dancing at the back of his throat. Flecks of green sparkle in his teeth. Some dragon fae can talk in their true form but he cannot. Where is my Child of Man?

"On the subject of the human--" Leafdance begins.

His ferocious rage dims as he inhales your scent. Malleus relaxes a bit and it's like his vision clears, allowing him to see the clusters of trees and tangle of roots you're stuck in. It was a nasty gnarl, for certain. If Elm left, it would surely knot around you and you'd lose a limb (at the very least). Judging by the lone arm sticking out of the tangle, he'd guess you were being twisted and the weight of the branches would crush you.

Not something to be stuck in.

Release them, Malleus' stares at Elm, satisfied with the way the fae shakes while looking at the reflection in his large eye.

"But sire! Please come to your senses! Humans are--"

Malleus isn't sure what came over him in that moment. He was annoyed, yes, but even when in his dragon form he was rational. Composed. Regal. Fully cognizant.

And he's fully aware that he lunges forward, all teeth.

The terrified squawk is muffled in the wet cavern of his mouth, Malleus chomping on the feeble body. He feels the bones roll, flesh squishing against his teeth like pulp. I think I'd rather have Lilia's cooking, Malleus muses as he bobs his head to send the remains down his throat.

The twist of roots explode, no longer connected to their summoner. He's surprised to find you awake and alert. Perhaps Elm meant to keep you conscious and make you suffer. You're dazed and covered in tree bits.

Even in this form he finds you adorably tiny. He can't laugh in this form; it turns into a rumble of a coo. You flinch when the towering creature registers in your vision but something about the brilliant green of that eye, the way those massive paws--claws?--fold patiently in front of you, gives you pause.

"M-Malleus?" you've turned over onto your hands and knees. He rests his maw on his paws, blinking at you.

It is I, Child of Man, Malleus snorts gently. It blows your hair around and the sound he gives is akin to a purr. You sit back on your knees, stunned and staring up at him with thoughtful adoration.

Joy. Relief. Love, perchance?

He can tell it's weird for you to hear his voice but you recover quickly. The idea that his voice sooths you is more than enough for him.

"I didn't realize you could turn into an actual dragon. I just thought being a dragon fae meant you had horns and a tail!" you laughed, cheeks turning red as the embarrassment hit you.

We fae have many secrets, Malleus nudges you with his snout, careful not to shove you. He feels your tiny, warm hands brush his scales. Trace them.

Ooh it's divine! Malleus' tail beats the ground and he's careful to knock the trees away from the two of you. "Thank you for saving me," You kiss the side of his face and wonder if he feels it. His pupil dilates and you laugh as the side of a pink tongue comes out to lick you. "But you squished my groceries. I'll need to make another trip. Want to join me?"

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!" Lilia drops down from the broom, landing squarely between Malleus' horns. He grabs onto the closest one, feet slipping as Malleus furrows his forehead and starts to move. "Don't swing me, you heathen! I can't believe you FLEW OFF FROM THE SCHOOL!" Lilia shakes the broom, yelping as Malleus looks down and forces him to dangle.

My human was in trouble. What was I to do?

"Tell Crowley?!" Lilia lets go to float in front of Malleus, one hand on his hip. Malleus huffs in response, blowing the fae towards a tree. Had he not teleported, Lilia would be dealing with some serious back pain! He reappeared beside you, leaning on the broom.

I needed a solution, not another problem, Malleus shook his head.

"Why can't Malleus come to the store with me?" you interrupt the staring contest. Apparently Malleus could filter people out when it came to telepathy; he and Lilia were making faces at each other.

"Because he needs to digest what he ate before he reverts to his human form." Lilia sighed. Malleus certainly wasn't the first dragon to eat someone but the boy hadn't been properly educated about taking care of himself after doing so. He'd been taught basic etiquette about showing off his fangs and how to control his wings but eating things in his dragon form hadn't been on anyone's mind since he preferred to be in his human form.

He was a gentle soul, much like his father, and no one really saw him resorting to such things. Queen Maleanor, absolutely! Stories of Queen Maleficia tearing chunks out of annoying suitors certainly made the rounds but no one really saw that in Malleus until now.

"He'll have terrible indigestion if he doesn't." Lilia frowned. "Among other issues."

How long will it take? Malleus cocked his head at Lilia.

"At least an hour. Two to be on the safe side." Lilia sighed, shaking his head.

"Well, I still need groceries." you shrugged, getting off the ground. You'd just have to use whatever bags the store gave you. You're sure the ones under Malleus can't be saved.

Oh Child of Man, for whom my heart sings, might you pay tribute with a bit of ice cream?

"A kiss wasn't enough?" you teased.

"A kiss? Oh, Malleus, you cheeky thing!" Lilia laughs. His young charge may be in dragon form but even dragons can be embarrassed. It's mostly awkward shuffling, dismissive wing flaps, and avoidant eyes, but it's still hilarious.

I would like both, thank you, Malleus' tail starts to wag again. It wags harder when he takes Lilia by surprise and blows him through a cluster of trees like a dandelion seed.

"I'll see what I can do," you pat the side of his face before walking over to help Lilia up and head back to the store.

[woncheolisms]

At any given moment, i am thinking about Apex Alpha!Ushijima.

Not just alpha. But apex Alpha.

It’s pretty clear even from a distance that Ushijima is like no other alpha around him. Taller than any of his fellows, undoubtedly broader, he takes up space in a way the others fail to. His face is set in a perpetual blank look. Something in his expression screams ‘watch out’.

He also has an excruciating presence. When he enters a room, the scent of every other alpha pales in comparison. Even before he presented, Ushijima had an aura about him, so no one was surprised when he presented not only as an alpha, but an apex.

Shiratorizawa is proud to have an Apex in their ranks, considering how rare a breed they are. Ushijima is a star pupil, a star athlete. Shiratorizawa’s golden boy. The alphas revere him. They can’t even bring themselves to have a jealous streak when it comes to him. All that exists is envy. And the knowledge that they can never be him.

And the omegas. Oh lord. The omegas throw themselves at his feet. Often figuratively, and sometimes even literally. An apex alpha would be the ideal mate. The very pinnacle of the food chain. Any omega who he ended up with Ushijima would be the luckiest little thing on the planet. What a rare luck it would be, bagging an apex alpha as your mate?

Imagine how the school reels in surprise when Ushijima sets his sights on you.

You are, by no means, special. You are not a prime omega. Your scent, while undoubtedly omega, is light. It is not an omega scent that reels alphas in with how rich it is. Your stature isn’t particularly impressive for an omega either, though it isn’t bad. There is no way to describe it. You are just….. ordinary.

So you are confused as all hell when the king of alphas, an apex, presents you with a delicate bracelet one day. He had always been friendly with you, and you assumed it was just him being kind to the students of Shiratorizawa as part of his makeshift pack. But this, a thin, shiny chain with a single heart-shaped charm, made his intentions clear. This was a courting gift, there was no two ways about it.

You saw the apex alpha smile for the first time when you accepted his gift. And it solidified the fact that you accepted his advances.

Being courted by an apex alpha was also an interesting experience. Different to other alphas. His gifts were extremely personalised, stuff that he knew you needed or would be very useful. He was a man of few words, but his actions were glaring, they seemed to scream his intentions at you loud and clear. His aura and scent were so strong that there wasn’t even any need for him to scent you or your things. Five minutes in his presence meant that everyone would know where you had been for hours afterward. Despite being so physically huge, his touch was gentle and comforting. And slowly, you grew so attached to him that it hurt to be without.

Overtime, you realised that a lot of what ushijima did was not his status but rather just him. He was naturally so firm yet gentle. His gifts being so practical was just how his mind worked. Being a good person and a good leader was not because he was an apex, but because he was….. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It was so easy to love him. And to choose him as your mate. He was truly the ideal. And every second of every day you were grateful that he had chosen you, for whatever reason, to be his omega.

Just the thought of Apex Alpha!Ushijima is so near and dear to me. If anyone can be an Apex, it’s him.

[girlgenius1111]

luckier than grapes

clearly into one another, neither you nor alexia do anything about it. alexia is convinced to make a move on new years. you're clueless. fluff :)

—

Playing with a team that performed at the caliber that Barcelona did should have been the most intimidating part of the whole moving to a different country thing for you. Somehow, it wasn’t. There were many intimidating things about it; a new language, a new style of play, a tight knit team, high expectations. All of that paled in comparison to the fear the Barcelona captain caused in you. 

You’d played against Alexia before, and she brought an intensity to the pitch that left you breathless. She was an otherworldly presence when she played. All furrowed brows and sharp words thrown at the ref. She was Alexia Putellas, one of the best in the world. She carried herself in a way that made you feel smaller, somehow. Like you were an amateur and she was an expert. Better yet, like you were playing for a high school team and she was… Alexia. Mononymous. 

When you’d joined the team, though, you didn’t meet the overwhelmingly perfect version. You met Alexia, your captain, who was running late because she spilled coffee in the hallway outside her apartment door, and didn’t want to leave it for somehow else to have to clean. She was still striking, still sent butterflies fluttering around your stomach. This time, it wasn’t because she intimated you. It was because when she smiled, one side of her mouth raising slightly higher than the other, you were a goner. 

Alexia was beautiful, anyone could see that. But as you spent the next few months getting to know her, you saw more. Alexia was gentle when she’d help you up after a rough tackle or wake you up on the plane to tell you it was time to get off. She was kind and caring, and fiercely passionate about her friends. You were drawn to her in a way you couldn’t really explain, and miraculously, it seemed she was drawn to you in the same way. 

Chats in the locker room turned into grabbing lunch with her after training. Rides home from matches turned into movie nights where you both passed out on the couch. 

You told yourself it was platonic. What else could it be? The chances that Alexia felt something for you outside of friendship… that just wasn’t possible. In the few months you’d gotten to know her, she’d become your best friend. You weren’t naive to your true feelings, but you were firm that there was no way they were returned. As quickly as you’d fallen for Alexia, you’d convinced yourself you could never have her. That she’d never feel the same way. You were addicted, or maybe you were just hopelessly in love. Either way. You valued your friendship with her too much to put it in jeopardy by confessing your feelings. And if you couldn’t have her as your girlfriend, you’d settle for having her as your best friend. Because any Alexia was better than no Alexia. 

You could pretend her touch didn’t send chills up your spine, or that her laugh didn’t instantly bring a smile to your face. You could pretend that making her smile didn’t feel better than winning all the titles in the world, or that you liked to take her sweatshirts not because they smelled like her but because they were just oversized and comfy. You could pretend. You just didn’t know how long you could pretend for. 

You didn’t know a lot of things, it turned out. 

—

“Alexia, if you don’t invite her, I will and I’ll bother you about it anyway, so you might as well just–”

“Fine! Fine, María. You are so pushy sometimes.” Alexia snapped, her eyes flickering over to where you were chatting with Kika, her frustration with her friend almost evaporating as she watched you laugh. 

“And you are hopelessly in love and I can’t take it anymore. So if I have to be pushy, I’ll be pushy.” 

Alexia didn’t even bother contradicting Mapi. That ship had sailed weeks ago when she’d had too much wine at dinner with her sister and she’d called Mapi half sobbing about how much she liked you. Drunk Alexia was an evil Alexia, she’d decided. Because now Mapi knew and the defender was making her do something about it instead of pining after you from afar. 

She began to walk in your direction, trying to hype herself up and failing miserably. You didn’t like her like that. She was sure, absolutely convinced. There was just… no way. No way on earth or in heaven. But here she was, like an idiot, about to stumble her way through an invite to a New Year’s Eve party because for some reason, her words tended to become all jumbled when she talked to you. 

As soon as you spotted her walking in your direction, whatever conversation you’d been having with Kika promptly fell out of your head. Kika, oddly, seemed to disappear the next second, as if knowing to give you and Alexia a moment to yourselves. Strange. 

“Hola.” Alexia said softly, her hands twitching at her sides as if she wanted to give you a hug or something. 

“Hi.” 

“Um… I have a question.” Alexia said, switching to English so she was sure you’d understand. Her accent made your heart beat faster, as it always did. 

“Shoot.” You replied.

Alexia’s eyebrows knit together, a look of confusion washing over her face. “Shoot? Like a ball?” 

Biting your lip to keep from chuckling you shook your head. “Kind of? It’s a saying. It means ask your question. Go for it.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Alexia nodded, trying to regain her composure. Her hair was falling out of the ponytail it was in, you could see a sheen of sweat across her forehead, and you were completely bewildered at how someone could look so beautiful after several hours of intense exercise. “Vale, you said you would be home for New Years Eve? There is a party, Patri is throwing a party. And I wanted to invite you. So… I am. Inviting you.” 

There were no errors in Alexia’s words, and you couldn’t help but feel that she had rehearsed what she’d just said before. It was a bit awkward, too, but Alexia was always a bit awkward. At least around you. 

“I’d love to come.” You smiled back, pretending you weren’t analyzing every single part of what she’d just said. 

“Good! I.. want you there.” Alexia said quickly, hoping you’d attribute the flush of her cheeks to the heat and the workout. You didn’t even notice it though, too busy staring at her eyes, and how one of them was a bit lighter than the other. 

“I’ll be there then.” 

The two of you smiled at each other, more oblivious than any two people had potentially ever been before. With a few more words exchanged, you headed in for the locker room and Alexia bounded back over to Mapi like an overexcited dog. There was something… different about this. You and Alexia hung out all the time, but the way she’d asked about New Years…as if it meant something. It was several weeks away, though, so you had plenty of time to think about it and figure out what specifically Alexia’s game was here. 

—

And think about it, you did. All through the break. Christmas may not have even occurred and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you could think about was her on New Years. What would she wear? Why had she invited you so… formally? What would she wear? Was this… could it possibly be what you secretly hoped it was? What would you wear?

By the time the 31st came around, you were still just as confused as you’d been before the break. You and Alexia had talked, often, but it didn’t feel different the way her question about the party had. Even when you fell asleep on facetime together on Christmas Eve, it didn’t feel… weighted, like her invitation had. It felt normal, comfortable. Safe. Alexia always felt very safe. 

That was what you focused on, as you got dressed for the party. You forced your brain to stop overthinking, and just reminded yourself of several things. You always felt safe with Alexia. You always had fun with Alexia. There was no way your feelings were requited so there was nothing to be nervous about. You were alarmingly calm, as you walked into Patri’s apartment, a nice bottle of champagne and a bag of grapes in your hand. 

That calmness lasted all of 10 seconds, after which you spotted Alexia in a lace crop top and black jeans and you forgot how to breathe.

—

Alexia was nervous. She didn’t really get nervous, but here she was, watching you walk in through the front door and feeling her pulse quicken rapidly. You were greeted by Patri, hugging her tightly and handing over the things you’d brought, unaware of your captain’s eyes on you. 

“Be cool.” Mapi instructed. “Casual, but confident. Be yourself but don’t–”

“Get away from me before I pour your drink on you.” Alexia mumbled, fixing a smile on her face as she watched you look in her direction, raising your hand in an adorable little wave. She’d thought about how this would go for weeks, since you’d agreed to come to the party. She thought and thought and thought, and somehow, as you walked towards her, she was completely blank on what to say. 

“Hey, you.” You greeted, smiling that soft smile Alexia never really saw you give anyone else. She swallowed hard, forcing her brain to start functioning again. 

“Hi… um. How are you? How was your flight?” 

“God, awful. Delayed and I got moved to a middle seat and I barely slept at all. I’m so exhausted, I almost didn’t come, but I knew you were looking forward to it so I drank some coffee and threw an outfit on and here I am.” 

It was a long winded answer not at all justified by the question, yet you felt that familiar comfort take over as you looked at Alexia, at her soft hair falling to her shoulders and the hazel of her eyes. All she had to do was look at you, and you were talking, telling her every detail of your day. 

“Well, I am glad you came, but I am sorry you are tired. And it does not look like you threw that outfit on. You look… good. Really good.” Alexia blushed, gripping her champagne flute tightly in her hands. 

You blinked, a shy smile spreading across your face. Maybe… maybe you hadn’t misunderstood the undertone of her invitation to this party. The thought barely took hold in your head before it was pushed away. 

“I have to go find Mapi for something. I’ll see you later.” Alexia said suddenly, turning and walking away from you so fast, she was out of sight before you could even process what had happened. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure what was going on now. It had seemed like, for a minute.. maybe. But no. She’d rushed away like she couldn’t get away from you fast enough, and you cursed yourself for getting your hopes up, even if it was just for a minute. You had to resign yourself to the fact that Alexia was your friend and nothing more. 

With a deep breath, you turned away from the spot Alexia had vacated, looking around for Pina. You needed a shot. And she’d give you one, surely. 

—

“Ale, breathe.” Mapi insisted, eyes flickering back and forth as Alexia paced the length of Patri’s bedroom, her panic taking over completely at this point. The defender had very aggressively pulled away from the conversation she was in with Ingrid, finding herself in Patri’s bedroom with Alexia before she had a chance to yank her arm back. Alexia, it seemed, was panicking. 

“I told her she looked really good! What was I thinking letting you talk me into this. She doesn’t like me, María, she doesn’t. This is insane, and I’m not doing it.” 

Mapi rolled her eyes. “You better or I’m locking the two of you in this bedroom until you do it.” 

“I can’t kiss her!” Alexia half shouted, throwing her hands up in the air and flopping down onto Patri’s bed. 

Mapi sat on the edge of the bed next to her, an amused smirk pulling at her mouth. “Do you not know how to–”

Alexia removed her hands from her face, her glare intimidating enough that Mapi trailed off without Alexia having to say anything. 

“Look, Ale, it’s a good plan. You kiss her. It’s midnight on New Years, it's what people do.”

“It’s cliche.” 

“But that is what's perfect. You kiss her. She likes it, you’re good. She asks you what the hell you’re doing, you say… Everyone needs a New Year's kiss. It’s tradition.” 

“That’s insane, she isn’t going to buy that!” 

Mapi sighed, frustration bubbling over. “It won’t come to that! She likes you, Ale, she wants you. Just trust me.” 

Alexia inhaled deeply, trying to calm her nervous system down. This wasn’t her. She was Alexia. She was confident and sure of herself, even if you had a magical ability to see right through all that. Alexia had learned a long time ago that if you carried yourself with confidence, you’d become confident.  

She stood with a renewed purpose, taking a few more calming breaths. “Okay.” 

Without another word, she left the room, leaving her best friend sitting on the bed, utterly confused as to what had just happened. Mapi checked her watch. 11:55. She’d find out soon enough what Alexia had decided, she thought. 

— 

When Alexia reappeared, she seemed much calmer. Maybe it was the two shots you’d taken in a row at Pina’s insistence, but she seemed like herself as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and casually steered you to the corner of the room. 

“This is the best spot for the countdown.” She declared, hoping you wouldn’t ask why because she didn’t have a reason other than… everyone would be facing forward, watching the TV, and not looking at the two of you. Luckily, you just nodded your head, looking around the room. It was quite full of people, and you wondered if maybe Patri could set you up with one of her friends. You had to get over this crush, you decided, because it was going to ruin your friendship with Alexia if you didn’t. It was a minute or two to midnight, surely you could find some random girl to kiss. This was Patri’s party after all. 

But Alexia was staring at you, you noticed out of the corner of your eye. You turned to her, seeing that the nervous energy had returned and she was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, one of her feet tapping on the wood floor. 

“I–”

“Are you–?”

Both of you spoke at the same time, laughing slightly as you both gestured for the other to continue. 

“You first.” Alexia insisted with a smile. She was wearing some kind of lip gloss and it was… distracting, to say the least. 

“I… uh.” You shook your head, trying to clear it of thoughts of Alexia’s lips. “Are you okay? You seem nervous?” 

Alexia looked like a deer caught in headlights, frozen for a moment before she bobbed her head up and down. “I am fine! Just excited.” 

“If you’re sure.” You looked at her skeptically, briefly reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Anyway, what were you going to say?” 

“Sí, vale.” Alexia nodded, trying to ignore the stares of Mapi and Ingrid and Patri and Pina and Kika and the entire team who were more focused on her than the countdown on the TV. She knew Mapi would open her big mouth and now she had an audience. 

She took another calming breath, letting the attentive look on your face relax her. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, something about liking you or maybe about kissing you, she wasn’t sure, you spoke. 

“Where are your grapes?” You asked, realizing with a jolt that it was a minute to midnight and Alexia was grapeless. 

Alexia froze. “My… what?” 

“Your grapes! The twelve grapes at midnight, under the table in under a minute. Did you forget to bring some? I brought extra, in case anyone forgot theirs, let me go get them–” 

Of course you’d brought grapes for a tradition you didn’t even participate in. It was one of those things that was so thoughtful and so you, Alexia was almost overcome with adoration. She couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t pretend any longer. As you turned to rush to the kitchen, knowing you didn’t have much time, Alexia grabbed your hand and spun you back around to face her. 

Your question died in your throat as she cupped your face in her hands and leaned in and kissed you. Kissed you. Alexia kissed you. You were stunned for a moment before your instincts took over and you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her body flush into yours. It was the most natural thing in the world, kissing Alexia. Feeling her soft lips on yours, her thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. Feeling her. It was… right. She pulled away, her eyes fluttering open and finding yours, just a few inches away. 

You looked awestruck, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, though she was absolutely sure you’d been kissing her back. Arms still linked together around her neck, you shook your head slightly, as if waking yourself from a daze. 

“You… kissed me.” You murmured. 

“It is New Year's.” Alexia said, biting her lip as she stared at you, waiting for any kind of decisive reaction. 

“It’s not midnight yet.” 

“I could not wait any longer.” 

The voices of the crowd echoed around you, counting down as the clock struck midnight, but all you could do was stare at Alexia in astonishment. You couldn’t really formulate any thought other than… oh my god. 

Words were failing you, so you surged forward, kissing Alexia again. It was even better the second time, if possible. Her arms held you securely against her, and you felt the smile on her face just before she pulled away again. 

“I really like you.” You mumbled, voice barely audible as the countdown ended and everyone cheered, wishing each other a happy new year. 

“I really like you, too.” Alexia replied, pressing her forehead to yours. “I have been wanting to do that for a while.” 

You smiled, too, allowing her to pull you closer. You hugged her tight, pressing your face into her shoulder. You still couldn’t quite believe it. But over Ale’s shoulder, you could see your teammates high-fiving and cheering, and you knew it had nothing to do with the New Year. 

This wasn’t some fever dream. It was real. 

“Your grapes.” You said again, pulling back from the warm hug to look at Alexia. 

She just laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I think kissing you is luckier than grapes.” 

You melted at that, pushing a strand of fading blonde hair away from her face. “Kissing on New Year's… kind of cliche, no?” 

Alexia rolled her eyes. “Shut up.” 

Before you could decide whether to shut up or not, she was doing it for you. Alexia kissed you again, ignoring the wolf whistles from your teammates. She’d found her new favorite thing. And if she had to make a resolution, it would be to kiss you every second of every day.

You felt the same; if anything could bring you luck in the New Year… it was Alexia. 

—

i wrote this in like two hours i hope it isn't terrible!!!!

[rafesplaymate]

The Other Woman

Rafe Cameron x Stripper!Reader

݁༉‧₊˚. navigation. ݁༉‧₊˚. masterlist.

warnings: angst. cheating (not on reader). substance use. descriptions of smut. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: there will be no second part

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

“The other woman has time to manicure her nails

The other woman is perfect where her rival fails.”

Her arms feel like the sun on a breezy day. Shining on him and encasing him in warmth while the cool winds prickle at his skin. Her scent like a pheromone that was designed solely to attract him. Her skin like expensive silk under his fingertips, delicate and smooth. Her lips felt like satin, brushing and sponging against his skin, lips and body in a way that was entirely addictive. She was entirely addictive; she was his haven. The luxury between her legs only he had access too. Her arousal was a flavor that could never be matched and that he yearned for when she wasn’t on his tongue. Slipping inside her felt like he had a taste of heaven, something he was entirely dedicated to worshipping. She was a deity he would willingly sacrifice his soul and life to.

“Baby… she keeps calling you.” Whispered out that voice that was like a sweet symphony to his ears and calmed down the ocean of complex emotions that dwelled in his heart. Rafe groaned in disappointment at his moment of peace being interrupted once more, burying his face deeper in the softness of her tummy while her manicured nails grazed his scalp. Feeling the soft pricks of hair under her smooth finger tips, touching him with a delicacy only she knew how to have. He sighed once more before bringing his head up and reaching a hand over to the incessant buzzing next to them in her satin sheets. Watching as Sofia’s contact showed for the 5th time that hour.

Rafe can’t exactly blame her, he promised her a nice dinner. Yet, he got to caught up in the girl who captivated his entire being and the one whose inner legs he finds solace in every night or day he can. Just seeing her glimmering smile or seductive gaze makes his knees buckle. He’s entirely fascinated by her, like a diamond in the rough of people who inhabit the island they live on. She’s unlike anything or anyone he’s ever known, the way she maneuvers her body on stage and glimmers under the club lights. The way he was entirely bewitched by the siren she was. He won’t ever forget the night Topper and Kelce dragged him out to a club he had no interest in being at. Small, yet no conviction in his claims of, ‘I have a girl, bro.’ He’s so entirely grateful he went. Topper’s convincing of, ‘what she doesn’t know won’t kill her, man. Trust there’s this girl there that will drive you insane. She’s got me and Kelce hooked.’ To which Rafe gave a small eye roll and scoff of, ‘any girl with her tits out has your attention.’ Topper only laughed and Kelce along with him before biting back a, ‘but hers are premium.’ As they all toppled into his truck.

That night was fate, and he knew that any woman he met or has yet to meet will pale in comparison to the goddess who’s enthralled his being and keeps him stuck in a perpetual state of desire for her and her alone. The moment he saw her glide across stage, in nothing but glimmering lingerie and wild hair. Her eyes packed on with glitter and pretty lips glossed so enticingly. Her body the kind of thing men carve into stone to keep as a recollection for life. The way she slithered across stage with her eyes set on him and only him. Singling him out while the cheers and hoots of his friends, other club goers and patrons faded into the background. Both of them fascinated with one another. The way she slung herself across his lap with her freed tits pressing into him and her intoxicating perfume swirling around him like an aphrodisiac.

“The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume.”

He paid for a lap dance that very night and let her help him escape in the private room under glaring, neon pink lights. Running his hands over every inch of her beautiful body as scraped her long nails against his skin and moved sensually across him. That night sealed their fate, and it didn’t take much convincing to let him take her home to Tannyhill. Making out in the back of Topper’s truck while him and Kelce smirked as they watched through the rear-view mirror. Praising their friend and promising to seal their lips when they were dropped off. That night y/n and Rafe brought their bodies and souls together, all night long. Sweat sticking them together as her inner thighs dripped with their mixed arousal. Their lips not leaving any inch of each other‘s bodies undiscovered. He marked her that night with his possession and allowed her to rake her nails down his strong back, calculating in his mind how he’d hide it from Sofia.

After that night any thought of another woman aside from the one under him was gone, his girlfriend included. The unsaid energy bringing their souls together as if they were lovers destined to meet. He licked and snorted lines off her body as he rubbed the powdery substance against her gums. Pouring champagne on her as he licked it up and let it soak his sheets right next to her arousal. She was like an added substance he was quickly growing addicted to and he knew this was an addiction that would never end. He took her apart over the balcony under the stars of the night sky as she whined and whimpered into the warm air. He was king and she would be queen.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

Now months later their affair is still going strong, he more often than not finds himself entangled in her at her penthouse he put her into. Vowing to move her into his mansion next. He’s yet find a way to end things with Sofia, he knows y/n is the one he wants to settle with. He wants everything with her. Aside from the passion that connects them physically it’s the understanding of their minds that really links them together. She understands him, she loves him in all his dark glory. Allowing him to be himself without feeling the need to try and fix him. Her understands her, in all her shady grandeur. They’re just as fucked up as one another; she’s not ashamed of who he truly is. She doesn’t keep him from changing either, she grows alongside him as the learn to love one another beautifully.

Rafe tells her about his dad, the pogues, even the yearning he has to reconcile with his sister. He cries to her and lets her hold him as he sobs into her naked chest, feeling her kiss his tears away. She always whispers soft, ‘let it out, baby. it’s okay, I’m here.’ Consoling him with gentle caresses and kisses. He feels guilt, guilt for keeping her in the shadows of secrecy. Yet, he’s not ready for the universe they’ve built for themselves to come to an end. He doesn’t want to share her with the world, he’s selfish and wants her all to himself. He keeps her locked away in the luxurious penthouse he’s granted her and has even taken her out of the club by providing for her. She’s his hidden gem, he knows it hurts her. It hurts him too.

He finds it difficult to end things with Sofia. Her softness and kindness to him never forgotten. He’s still fond of the girl who was there for him when no one else was. Who listened to him cry and his grieving words as he spread his father’s ashes into the ocean. Sofia is familiar, she’s routine. She’s comfortable in a different way and he doesn’t want to let it go. He knows he deeply adores y/n, he loves her with every fiber of his being. But he loved Sofia first, she’ll always have a place in his heart for the kindness and love she granted him when he needed it most. That’s why he leaves y/n every morning to go back to her. He knows it’s cowardly; he knows it’s completely selfish. He can see the tears falling from her closed eyes as she pretends to be asleep while he softly walks around the bedroom as to not wake her when he leaves in the mornings. He always knows she’s awake. Especially when he presses a kiss to her forehead as he softly strokes her hair. Promising with a whisper to her skin that he’ll be back and that he loves her. He’ll always go back for her, he’ll always go back to her.

When he greets Sofia, she looks at him with those pretty doe eyes that are so different yet just as beautiful as the ones he’s grown accustomed to love. Natural lashes in comparison to y/n’s pretty extensions he pays for. They’re both so beautiful, yet so different to him. Especially in the way they hold his gaze. When he kisses Sofia it’s not quite as intoxicating, yet he likes it nonetheless. Her scent not as addictive but he still finds himself burying his nose into her neck as he hugs her. While Sofia is all earthly beauty, y/n is pure glamour. Sofia is soft, meek, not a touch of makeup kisses her pretty face. Whereas y/n is more resilient, durable and she has to be in the line of work she succumbed to. With the way of life she lived. Her gorgeous face accentuated by flawlessly done makeup. He doesn’t think she needs it, but he loves it nonetheless. Sofia’s nails are always blunt and rarely polished, y/n’s nails always have a nicely perfected manicure. Sofia loves sandals and sneakers, y/n loves wedges and heels. Sofia’s lips always moisturized with chapstick, y/n lips always glimmering with gloss. He likes how different they are from their personalities to their styles. They’re like day and night. Polar opposites so beautiful in their own right. He’s a selfish, selfish man. He knows one day he’ll have to choose, but for now….he holds both hearts in the palm of his hand. Only one of them is feeling the stabbing pain of abandonment and pining the other has the pleasure of not being subjected too. He knows it, yet he can’t help it. Sofia is pure routine, y/n is his passion. Being with her is like being inebriated. Like an adrenaline rush he always craves, that he loves. He lives for it.

“And when her old man comes to call

He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen.

‘Cause to be by her side

It's such a change from old routine.”

Y/n waits, she always will. She knows he’ll be back. She’s begged him to stay, but he never does. Just a quick promise of his awaited return as his fully clothed body steps to her naked one which is kneeling in the satin sheets. A representation of the vulnerability she’s subjected herself to just for his approval. Her long lashes clumped with tears as her chin wobbles. He thinks she looks so beautiful like this; the dark part of him liking the way she longs and whines for him. He always gives her chin a quick pinch as he pulls away from their kiss and steps out of the bedroom. Y/n always falls back into the sheets as the tears that watered in her lash line fall down her smooth cheeks. Listening to his footsteps farthering and ultimately the front door closing shut as he leaves her once more.

She knows why, she knows what she is. A secret, a mistress. His side girl. She can’t help it; the desire she has for him overcoming her self worth and respect for his girlfriend. She feels the grief that fills her body every time he leaves, only to disappear every time he returns. She can’t bring herself to end it. Can’t bring herself to leave him alone, or give him an ultimatum that it’s me or her. She knows it’s pathetic, yet she can’t bring that thought to overcome the undying love she’s developed for him. So she does as he wants, she waits for him. She always will. When her body lays back down, and she’s sure he’s gone. Only then is when she lets the overwhelming hurt leave her body in sobs of pure anguish as she lets sleep overtake her body. Succumbing to the fatigue of a heart that is continually broken.

“The other woman will always cry herself to sleep

The other woman will never have his love to keep.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

a/n: was feeling angsty tn ugh. i hope you all enjoy, pls let me know your thoughts! muah!

© 2024 | rafesplaymate

[solxamber]

If its alright for you^^ Can you do Malleus, Vil, and Jade with gn reader being an angel (reader inspired to Robin fron Hsr and also Columbina, or seraphim if thats what they both are). Being and Ethereal—how would they be in a relationship with Reader? Write how you like! Also could you write a little angst on Vil envying because reader is much more beautiful than him.

Malleus, Vil, Jade with an Angel! reader

I hope I've interpreted it correctly and I hope you like it <3

Malleus Draconia

Being in a relationship with someone as ethereal as you—a being reminiscent of a seraphim, with an almost divine presence—would captivate Malleus in ways even he didn’t fully understand. Your wings, your aura, everything about you felt ancient, otherworldly, and yet, in your company, he felt something warm and grounding.

He’d spend countless nights with you under the stars, speaking of things beyond mortal comprehension, your shared silence often saying more than words ever could. He cherished how you never treated him with fear but rather saw him as an equal, someone to confide in, to trust, to protect.

However, Malleus couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty at times. While he was powerful, revered, and feared, you were something altogether different—transcendent. Your beauty wasn’t just physical; it was the kind of grace that belonged to myths, a presence so strong that even the most stubborn fae would bow their heads to you.

He’d watch you as you moved gracefully, your wings casting soft, shimmering light that seemed to ease his darkest thoughts. Malleus loved you deeply, but there were moments where he pondered: how long would this peace last? Could someone as divine as you ever truly remain grounded by someone like him?

And yet, each time those doubts surfaced, you’d turn to him with a gentle smile, sensing his unease. “Malleus, I chose you. Not because of your power or your lineage, but because of your heart.” And in those moments, Malleus knew that no matter how distant the stars seemed, you’d always stand by his side.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil Schoenheit, a man who built his world on beauty and perfection, found himself in a relationship with someone whose very existence redefined those concepts. Your ethereal presence—a being so breathtaking that even the sun seemed to shine less brightly in comparison—challenged everything Vil once held dear.

He adored you, admired you, but in the quiet moments of solitude, envy crept into his heart. How could he, the man known for his flawless appearance and impeccable standards, ever compare to you? His reflection in the mirror seemed duller these days, his beauty pale in comparison to your effortless grace.

Vil wouldn’t voice his insecurities, of course. He was Vil Schoenheit, after all—poised, confident, and above all, perfect. But you could see the cracks in his armor, the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was searching for a flaw that didn’t exist.

One evening, after a particularly intense photoshoot, Vil found himself alone with you, the two of you resting in his dressing room. You could feel his tension, the way he was fidgeting, unusually quiet. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Sometimes... I wonder what it's like for you,” Vil murmured, not meeting your eyes. “To be so effortlessly beautiful. To have all eyes on you, not because of your hard work, but because... because you simply are.”

You reached for his hand, your touch soft, like the brush of an angel’s wing. “Vil,” you began gently, your voice carrying a soothing quality. “Your beauty is more than what people see on the outside. You work hard, you inspire others, and your drive is what draws people to you.”

He shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s not enough, is it? I will never be able to match you.”

You cupped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Vil, I never asked for you to match me. I fell in love with you—your strength, your vulnerability, your passion. You don’t need to be more than who you are. You’re already enough for me.”

Vil closed his eyes, letting your words sink in, though the jealousy still lingered in the recesses of his mind. But, for tonight, with you by his side, he allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t need to compare himself to the divine when you already saw him as someone irreplaceable.

Jade Leech

Jade would find your ethereal nature endlessly fascinating. From the first moment he saw you, he knew there was something different about you. Your wings, your almost serene grace—everything about you was an enigma, something he wanted to unravel.

In his mind, you were a creature of beauty, but also of great mystery. He loved the way your mere presence could change the atmosphere in a room, turning the mundane into something almost magical. He loved even more how you seemed unphased by the chaotic nature of his twin, Floyd, or the dangerous waters of Octavinelle.

"Fascinating," Jade would often muse, his eyes gleaming with curiosity whenever he caught you mid-flight or gazing at the ocean, as if seeing it through otherworldly eyes.

You would tease him for it, smirking as you caught his stare. “You know, you don’t have to analyze me like one of your mushroom specimens.”

He’d chuckle, not denying it in the slightest. “Can you blame me? You’re far more intriguing than any mushroom I’ve encountered.”

While you remained an enigma, your kind and grounded nature endeared you to Jade in ways he couldn’t quite explain. You had this ability to see through his carefully constructed facade, to touch the softer parts of him he rarely let anyone witness. Whenever he was feeling particularly mischievous or cryptic, you had a way of disarming him with just a smile or a well-timed quip.

One night, after hours spent exploring the coral reefs beneath the surface, the two of you floated together in the calm waters, stars reflecting off the surface above. He looked at you, his gaze softened by the water’s gentle ebb and flow.

“You’re like a rare treasure from the deepest trenches of the sea,” Jade whispered, voice low and contemplative. “Something that shouldn’t exist, and yet, here you are.”

You smiled softly, your wings brushing against the water as you drifted closer to him. “And yet, here we are,” you echoed, leaning into his embrace.

Jade, despite his usual composed and calculating nature, found something precious in the way you balanced him, in the way your kindness and ethereal presence made him feel less like a creature of the depths and more like someone who could reach the surface—if only for you.

Masterlist

[jezabelle9299]

You're It for me S.R x FEM! reader

Overture- Your walking through a used bookstore when you spot an old magazine with your boyfriends face on the cover-- not for his academic ability

CWs- Comparison to Lila Archer, feeling replaceable, this is diet angst- I don't have the guts or skill for the truly heart wrenching, kissing

A/N- I was kind of picturing an early season 2 Spencer? Like they've been dating for a while, but like-- not more than maybe 2 years, so they're still a little bit nervous. Also this is the first of many things I'm doing this December so hopefully everything goes well and if you want to read any of the other things I'm doing you could do so HERE

Right in your favorite used bookstore, on top of some other old magazines, there it was. It caught your eye at first because of the vibrant photo— but when you stopped to look you saw a beautiful young actress rubbing her face onto your wonderful boyfriend's hand. You felt sick, but you pushed through it to buy the stupid thing so you could read it. 

You barely made it through the checkout line, pale as a ghost and wishing you’d never walked in there. Because why didn’t he tell you? The publishing date was only months before you started dating and he hated touch. Was this a long relationship? An intimate moment no one else was supposed to see?

By the time you got to your car you’d ripped the plastic covering off the magazine opening up the article about Lila Archer. You hadn’t really heard of her before, but she was gorgeous. The more you read about the ‘secret relationship’ between her and Spencer the more upset you got— until in one of the final sentences it said one of their reporters found them in a pool—fully clothed—making out. Spencer. Your germaphobic boyfriend who was nervous about so much as touching you in passing for your first 3 dates jumped into a pool to make out with someone he couldn’t have known for that long.

You sat on the couch in your apartment after a silent ride home. Spencer was supposed to meet you to spend some time together, he’d be landing any minute– but it was all you could do not to cry. It was before you were dating but you just felt– Insecure? Replaceable? You weren’t quite sure, but comparison stole your joy and left you with nothing but a sour mood and a boyfriend on his way to see you– one who was qualified to notice that you were upset nearly immediately upon seeing you. 

“Hey honey— I’m so glad I’m finally home. I’ve missed you so much.” He walked through the door, you’d told him so many times that he could come in without knocking– he even had his own key– and he moved straight to you. He leaned in to kiss you, but your lips were unrelenting, not soft like they usually were. You weren’t in the mood for romance right now and he wanted to figure out why. 

Not that you always had to be in the mood for physical touch, but usually when he got home from longer cases you were on him from the moment he walked through the door. He loved that— he missed that right now. 

“Is something wrong? Are you ok?”

“Yeah Spence, I’m fine.” You plastered on your best fake smile to no avail, only making Spencer more concerned in your efforts. 

“Did something happen while I was gone?”

“Nothing happened.” 

“I know you’re not telling me something. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.” Despite his words, his tone wasn’t accusatory at all. Only concerned. 

“I don’t need help— I just saw something that kind of… freaked me out is all.” You were really trying to downplay the effect that stupid magazine cover had on you.

“Did I leave one of my case files laying around? Oh honey I’m so sorry— I thought I picked them all up before I left.”He was wracked with guilt over something that didn’t even happen. 

“No Spencer it wasn’t that. It was a magazine? You were on the cover.” You thought he knew what you were talking about. I mean he’s been in a few science magazines for his academic ability, but nothing else like this. At least you certainly hoped not. 

“What magazine? From this month?” 

“No— it was a few months before we started dating. It was you and Lila Archer? I know it was before we started dating; and I know I have no right to be upset by it but it just— it just kind of took me by surprise, you know?”

“Oh. I forgot about that.” 

“You forgot about it? It said you were found fully clothed in her pool, and you just forgot?” You weren’t accusatory, just hurt—your voice was breaking by the end and you were still trying to look up at him. 

“It really wasn’t like that, I only knew her for a week— we were in LA because she was being stalked, I was supposed to be guarding her and she pulled me into the pool.” with just that one sentence he made it infinitely worse. He knew her for a week, and he wasn’t worried about her germs? What made her so different?

“You only knew her for a week?”

“Well–yes?” It was clear by the way he looked at you that he thought that would be a comforting notion. It was anything but. 

“On our first date you didn’t even want to touch me. You didn’t kiss me until we’d been dating for almost 2 weeks. I was perfectly fine with those things because I know you don’t really like touch but I need you to be honest with me about something. Do you just not like me as much? Because if you don’t that’s– well that’s ok. I mean I don’t want to be worried that you’re going to get a case in LA and find someone better.”

“Honey let me be perfectly clear– there is no one better. I love you more than anything or anyone on this Earth.” Spencer’s reassurance just wasn’t comforting you like it usually did. 

“Then–why? I mean do you just not think about me physically in that way?”

“I think the way I feel about you physically could easily be described as clingy and/or obsessed. You know this, sweetheart.” He held tightly onto your hands- rubbing the back of hand with his thumb

“Well now sure, but I honestly kind of thought you just weren’t attracted to me when we first started going out.”

“I was– and am for the record– extremely attracted to you. Some of my hesitance towards touching you was germ-based, but honestly I was just so ridiculously, extremely nervous around you that I was afraid to touch you and mess everything up.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, honey in case you hadn’t noticed you’re kind of it for me.” That feeling in the pit of your stomach finally subsided— giving way to the same feeling of love you always feel when Spencer wraps you in his arms. 

[wordssoonforgotten]

Let it happen — chapter one.

Jinx x Kiramman!daughter!reader

A/N — this is a multi-chapter fic that was sitting in my drafts for months so I just decided to publish it. I don’t know where it’s going, and I’ll probably make edits as I go along. But for now you enjoy it anyway!

Content: 2,621 words, descriptions of panic attacks, reader discribed with darkskin and curly hair, modern!au, use of y/n (only because it’s from jinx’s POV)

Also available on AO3. | Jinx and Y/N Kiramman playlist. |Jinx playlist. (Not specific to this story)

Powder Lanes—or if it had been up to her at birth, Jinx—was a hater of plenty things.

School, early rising, and her brother’s stupid pranks that she always seemed to fall victim to—and the list goes on. However, truth be told, her hatred for all those things combined could still pale in comparison to the absolute loathing she felt for those wealthy fuckers in Piltover. Her whole life she’d seen them; only miles away from Zaun, yet the lives they led were completely different. Everything from the clothes they wore to the cars they drove, to even the litter on the street was so perfect. It was sickening. How could a place so disgustingly great be that close to a place like Zaun? Zaun, her home, which was drowning in poverty, crime, and starvation? It left a taste in her mouth so bitter that she couldn’t help but frown in distaste whenever the city was brought up.

She and her sister indulged in the mutual disdain together for a while. Off-color jokes about Piltoveran habits and horrible impressions of their accents became their thing. A source of comfort after a bad dream, a way to make one laugh when the other was sick, an extended olive branch after a fight. She wouldn’t go as far as to say it was the backbone of their relationship, but it was one of the steady planks that kept them standing.

Maybe that’s why she felt like her world was ending when she first heard the news. Her sister. Her Violet. A piltie lover. But not just any old Piltie girl! No, the universe wasn’t kind enough to make this girl just some rando. Vi was dating a Kiramman. One of the richest families in Piltover. She knew it was slightly dramatic, but it felt kind of like betrayal. When Vi broke the news, she could only sit there. A mixture of shock, dread, and a spark of anger brewed together to create the most awful feeling her stomach had ever felt. She held back for as long as she could, silently watching as their dad gleefully patted her shoulder and as their brothers playfully teased her for “finally being tied down.” Her words wouldn’t even come to her as she stood up with a blank expression and walked back to their shared room.

About thirty minutes later, Vander, probably on behalf of Vi, made an appearance. She had to practically force herself to stay present and absorb the words he was saying. It was a load of bullshit about how you “can’t help who you fall for,” and “She’s still your big sister”. All things she already knew but listened to him repeat anyway. After he got done, she simply nodded, with her best attempt at a reassuring smile. The last thing she needed was for him to think she wasn’t being supportive of her sister’s relationship, even if that was technically the truth. She needed time to process, to be alone with the fact that her own sister was in love with the enemy. She couldn’t do that if he never left the room.

After she finally came to terms with the facts, concern flurried in her body. What did this piltie—Caitlyn, possibly want with Vi? Didn’t she already have everything she wanted? More even? What if she was using her? What if she planned to get whatever it is she wants then to leave her high, dry, and miserable? Vi would be devastated. Heartbroken. Her gut clenched at the thought. She knew her sister like she knew her own mind. There was no one else as trusting, kind, or stupidly self-sacrificing as Violet Lanes. She’d always felt it would lead to her downfall, but over her dead body would she let this piltie-girl be the one to spark her downward spiral. She had to figure this out. For the good of her sister’s mental state.

Jinx’s opportunity to sleuth around came way sooner than she expected. Two days after Vi broke the earth-shattering news, she dropped another bombshell. (what was with her?!) The Kirammans had invited their entire family to dinner. At their house. In Piltover. She nearly choked on her breakfast at the thought. If she wasn’t sure her sister had lost the plot before, there was her unasked-for confirmation.

Dinner with one of Piltover’s wealthiest sounded like an early trip to hell, yet Vi seemed so ecstatic about it. Of course, Vander readily agreed at the sight of his eldest daughter’s poorly concealed excitement, and Mylo and Claggor will go anywhere free food is, so that left Jinx as the only one who didn’t express pleasure at the invite. She didn’t even notice them looking at her until Vi bumped her shoulder with a gentle, but slightly nervous “What do you think pow-pow?”

Even if the truth was that the very idea of sitting with those prissy, elite, sure-to-be assholes made her want curl up and throw a tantrum like she was six again; she can’t stand to see her sister upset. Especially not if the cause was her. So, with her most convincing smile and nod of her head she gave a tight “Can’t wait sis,” and hoped that would be enough. (Vi knew Jinx just as well as Jinx knew Vi, so it didn’t convince her much. She was glad her little sister was putting forth effort.)

There are so many better things she could be doing right now. Beating Ekko at video games, working on her new paintball-blaster gun in the garage, hell, even doing all the homework she’d let pile up. Anything, even that, was better than spending her night eating along side Piltover’s richest. However, she couldn’t deny the opportunity this gave her. Under the guise of being a concerned yet slightly overprotective sister, She could subtly interrogate this Caitlyn girl and spy any ulterior motives she may have regarding Vi. Then, she could have this whole situation wrapped up with only a little damage to Vi’s ego.

She and her brothers had been made to wear their best dress attire, which for her included a dress behind by she and vi’s mother that was slightly too big for her. (It felt weird wearing something that belonged to her; like chasing ghosts. She could ignore it for one night, though. For her plan. For her sister.)

The Kiramman estate was just as extravagant as she’d read about in all the articles. Big, stupid mansion with gardens, fountains, and the rest of the rich people bullshit. Her family’s beat up (but still perfectly good!) van looked extremely out of place parked in front. Another reason for her get them in and out as soon as possible. Vi looks more nervous than Jinx has ever seen her before. It’s unnerving. She’s not used to her older sister being nervous about anyone, especially not some wealthy pricks. Man she must really like this girl. Jinx ignores that thought and follows her brothers out of the backseat.

She intentionally falls behind next to Vi and without looking at her, elbows her in the arm. She can feel Vi’s stare at the side of her face. When she glances over at her she’s nursing a small, amused smile. She reaches over and ruffles jinx’s hair, who in return gives her a short huff and glare. (She hides her smile as she speed walks ahead. That felt right. Just like old times.)

When they get up to the door, they’re greeted by the Kirammans’ butler. The man has the straightest, stiffest posture she’s ever seen, and he takes his job way seriously. He leads the five of them to the Kirammans’ dining room. The three of them make up some sight. Pristine, white collar, individuals sitting in a triangle, Cassandra Kiramman being the center.

Caitlyn Kiramman is just as perfect as Vi made her out to be. It was sickening. She looked like your average Piltoveran girl, only taller. Pin-straight dark blue hair that sat on her shoulders way too neatly, like it’s never seen a single tangle. At first glance, she seems…intense. However, she doesn’t stay that way for long. The second she notices Vi’s presence, (and she assumes the rest of them, but her eyes remain on Vi the entire time) it’s like she comes to life. She stands up and stumbles over to her like a lovesick puppy. (How can one be clumsy so gracefully?) Vi catches her by the arm gently; then they both just stare at each other in that disgusting in love way every new couple does. It makes Jinx’s stomach turn. She has to admit. If this girl is messing around with Vi’s feelings, she sure is playing the part well. It almost convinces her that she’s being irrational, but not quite.

Claggor clears his throat with an amused smirk at their older sister. Mylo snickers until Vander elbows him in the side gently. Jinx’s eyes subtly narrow in Caitlyn’s direction, trying to keep a lid on her feelings. Vi introduces her to each family member one by one, Caitlyn greets them each with a firm handshake and a polite smile, until she gets to Jinx. Her smile falters and makes way for nervousness.

“And this is my little sister, Powder.” Vi introduces her with more caution and gentleness than the others as if already sensing the tension between the two. Jinx gives her a look, already gearing up to correct her sister with her chosen name before Caitlyn interrupts. “Oh, yes! It’s lovely to meet you. I have a sister about your age too. She hasn’t come down yet.” She says as she glances at the stairs quickly before offering her hand to Jinx.

The mention of a sister does shock her. Since when was there another one?! Jinx had done her research, there had been no mention of another Kiramman daughter. Especially not one her own age. She pushes the momentary surprise away, refusing to let this throw her off her game. She shakes Caitlyn’s hand firmly as she holds eye contact, almost as if asserting dominance. Silently telling her that her money and impromptu relationship with her sister don’t scare her.

Eventually, they all take a seat. Each member of her family members takes her turns shaking hands with Cassandra and Tobias Kiramman. They’re polite in that wealthy aristocratic way that makes Jinx feel as if it’s not real. She sits between Mylo and Claggor, watching her surroundings carefully. She watches the way Vi smiles too hard and stumbles slightly when talking to Caitlyn’s parents. She watches them look at her in amusement. Mostly, she watches Caitlyn. Looking for any sign of dishonesty. The woman alternates between staring at Vi with that disgusting lovesick smile and glancing up the stairs, assumingly looking for this mystery sister that apparently no major news outlet knows about.

Light footsteps hurry down the stairs, causing a visible relaxation in Caitlyn’s shoulders. When Jinx looks up, she feels the air being knocked out of her lungs. The second Kiramman sister looks nothing like the rest of her family. She’s shorter than Caitlyn, with black curls that stop at her shoulders. The purple dress she’s wearing matches Caitlyn’s blue one. It brings out her dark skin and pretty eyes. Oh my god, did she really just think that? Whatever, stay focused jinx. Caitlyn’s sister smiles politely, just as her sister did, but for some reason it makes Jinx hot in the face. She takes a sip of water to combat the warmth.

“You’ll have to excuse my tardiness, I’m terribly sorry.” The girl smiles and takes her seat between Caitlyn and Tobias. Caitlyn bumps her shoulder with a relieved smile as she clears her throat. “This is my sister, y/n.” The girl—y/n— bumps Caitlyn back. Despite looking nothing like them, she fits perfectly. Her posture is just as straight, and her tone is just as diplomatic. It confuses Jinx. Why had she not heard of this girl?

“Y/N! This is Powder. Vi’s sister I told you about?” Caitlyn’s tone is friendly but the hints of nervousness shine through to jinx like headlights. (Was this her plan? Trying to get her somehow-secret-sister to get in close with her so she won’t sniff out her true intentions? Oh-ho! She was smarter than she gave her credit for.)

Y/N holds out her hand politely. Jinx takes it hesitantly. The girl has the warmest, softest flesh she’s ever felt in her life. It’s like shaking hands with a pillow. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a little about you, is it true you’ve turned down Piltover University six times?” Y/N says curiously. That bit of information is true. She has turned down free admission to Piltover University six times. And she’d do it six more until they got the memo. Jinx knows her work is good. She knows she’s smarter than the average. Her teachers have said that her whole life. (Though, it’s usually in bitter company with “but she just doesn’t try!” Or some reimagining of it.)

Of course, she knows if she did accept their desperate pleas, she’d be one of the only people from Zaun to ever get a scholarship there. At just sixteen. That doesn’t mean she’d demean herself and hurt her Zaunite pride by actually going to the piltie school. She’d rather chew glass.

“And I’ll turn them down six million more,” Jinx scoffs sarcastically. “I’m not sticking myself in a school with those rich, stuck up, snobby—“ Vander clears his throat firmly. That’s when she knows she’s crossed the line. Vi is giving her sternest big-sister glare. Jinx rolls her eyes and sits back. She’s preparing for whatever scolding or argument she’s about to get from the second Kiramman daughter, but the girl just laughs. So light, so sunny, so perfect that it nearly blows her away. “They are pretty snobby,” Y/N hums thoughtfully. “But I’ve heard your work is genius. It deserves to be rewarded.”

Jinx can feel the heat climbing back up her neck, and immediately busies herself with her water glass again, ignoring the questioning look from Vi. As dinner is served, Jinx does her best to subtly question Caitlyn, just as she planned.

It’s harder than she thought.

Y/N makes it hard. Just by being a good sister. Every time she’s asking Caitlyn something, she gets nervous. And every time Caitlyn gets nervous, her sister swoops in like fucking Wonder Woman to guide her. Not letting her slip up even once. Ugh.

Vi and Caitlyn spend the night making goo-goo eyes at each other. It’s tough to discredit the feelings she sees when they lock eyes. Maybe…just maybe…No jinx! Stay focused! This can’t be real. It just can’t be.

The thought makes Jinx's breathing speed up. If this was genuine, and this piltie really cared about Vi as much Vi cared about her, then it was all true. It was all real. Her sister was in love with this rich girl and eventually would be so in love that they move in and get married and have babies and—and what about their family? What about their sisterhood? She’d forget all about her and Zaun. She’d lose her sister. Forever.

Suddenly the room feels smaller and she can’t breathe. No air is getting to her lungs, her muscles burn. She can hear Vi talking to her, firm, calm, but still concerned. Her brothers are holding her shoulders and she can hear Vander’s chair screeching from how fast he’s standing up. All of it is too much.

Jinx stands up and runs out of the house through the back doors.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Accidentally Bring Up an Insecurity| Jisung

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You had always admired Han's loving spirit and his ability to find inspiration in the smallest things. He brought light into your life in ways you never thought possible. And he helped you see the world in a way most didn't. You loved that you had that in common with Han- an appreciation for things that breathed life into your creative works.

You had never been very good at drawing. Or writing. Or anything having to do with the fine arts. Rather your creativity came more in a problem solving way. But in order to connect with Jisung, you decided to take up sketching to connect with Han a little more, because you loved him.

But that just created a deep-rooted insecurity about your creative abilities. Surrounded by so many talented people - as you were around the kids -you often felt your own contributions paled in comparison, and it was a fear you kept to yourself.

One evening, Han was over at your place, working on some new lyrics while you attempted to write poetry. He was sprawled on the couch, notebook in hand, humming a melody under his breath. You sat at your desk, scribbling down words and then erasing them feeling increasingly frustrated with your lack of progress.

You had long given up drawing, and you thought it might be easier to write a poem, since it was words that described your feelings. You could easily write a poem about something you knew well right? It couldn't be that hard.

You scratched your head as you tried to think of rhymes.

"How's it going over there?" Han asked, glancing up from his notebook.

"Not great," you mumbled, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Han chuckled, not noticing your tone. "I figured."

His casual comment felt like a sting, a reminder of your perceived inadequacies. You forced a smile and nodded, but inside, you felt your confidence crumbling.

He got up and walked over to you, picking up your paper in his hands. He chuckled. "Poetry now huh?"

You felt your cheeks burn and tried to take it from him. "No-"

"No jagiya I want to read it." He said holding it above your head and reading it. "You make me laugh when I am sad, Your jokes are the best I've ever had. When you smile, my heart feels light, You make everything so bright." Han giggled again. "It's like one of those poems we had to write in elementary school."

That made your cheeks burn even more. "Jisung give it back-"

"Your hugs are warm, your eyes so kind, With you, I leave my worries behind. You're my sunshine, my best friend, With you, I hope the good times never end." He gives you a cute pouty face in a teasing manner. "Awww Y/N... it's such a cute little poem. It's like a little nursery rhyme."

"Jisung stop!" You called out again, feeling your eyes burn as you put your fists to your eyes, the embarrassment you had taking over.

"I know my poem's not that great, But loving you is my favorite fate. Thank you Jisung..." His smile fell and he swallowed. "Thank you...Jisung for...for being you. My love for you is always true." He looked up and seemed to realize what he was teasing you about and his lip trembled. "Y/N-"

"I want to be alone." You mumbled through your tears. Jisung wanted to reach out, but he knew he had hurt your feelings, but knowing you he also knew you needed space.

The next few days were a blur of self-doubt and creative blocks. You avoided drawing and writing, and found excuses to stay busy with other tasks. Han noticed your change in behavior and even if you guys had talked a couple hours after the incident, he still didn't think his apology was enough.

One afternoon, while you were both working on a puzzle together, Han brought up the subject again. "Hey, you know I'm really really sorry right?"

You nodded. "I know. I'm not mad anymore, Jisung."

Han frowned. "But you haven't been writing at all. Or drawing...I feel like it's my fault. No...I know it's my fault. I'm sorry I made fun of your poem- I loved it. I really did. It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever written me..."

You felt a pang in your chest, wishing you could believe him. "Thanks, but sometimes it feels like I'm just not good enough."

Han looked taken aback. "What do you mean? You're incredibly talented."

You sighed, finally letting out a bit of your frustration. "It's just… I see how talented everyone else is, including you, and I can't help but feel like my work doesn't measure up."

Han's expression softened, and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "You're amazing in your own right, and comparing yourself to others isn't fair to you. I wouldn't ever want you to compare yourself to me. That's like comparing a doctor to an actor. Both are genius in their own right, but do you expect an actor to be able to perform surgery like a doctor? Or the doctor to recite the entire second act of Hamlet? You have your talents that I could never even begin to measure up to, Y/N. Its the same with everyone who walks this planet..."

His words were kind, but they didn't fully reach the core of your insecurity. You forced a smile and nodded, hoping the conversation would end there.

A week later, Han invited himself over to your house, hoping to put an end to both of your guy's misery. You hated feeling like you had to walk on eggshells around him, and he hated thinking he was making you uncomfortable.

You guys ate dinner and started watching a drama. After the fourth episode Han pressed the pause button.

"Baby...can I show you something?"

You nodded, slightly confused as to why Jisung would pause your binge.

He grabbed his laptop from his bag and came back towards you, placing his headphones on your head.

He unlocked his laptop, clicked a few buttons and a soft melody filled your ears. Your eyes widened.

"Did you guys wrtie a new song?" You asked excitedly, but Jisung shushed you gently and motioned for you to listen.

You closed your eyes and let yourself go, embracing the music fully.

You felt your heart almost stop when you heard the words of your poem masterfully intricated into the song.

"Why did you show me that?" you asked, your voice trembling. You didn't dare open your eyes, or you were sure the tears you had would fall.

Han sounded puzzled. "Because it's great and I wanted to share it."

"But it's not great," you snapped, tears falling from your eyes as you opened them. "People will know you just used those words. You're so much more well versed and-"

Han stopped in his tracks, realization dawning on him. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just wanted to show them how talented you are.” You shook your head.

"Ouch, Y/N..." Jisung chuckled, his voice breaking a little. You looked at Han, whose chubby cheeks were encompassed by his pout. His boba eyes sad.

"No- No baby I meant... I feel like my words are stupid. Not your voice. Your song was absolutely beautiful... I just feel like I made you waste such a good backtrack."

You wiped away a tear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "It's not your fault. It's just… I can't help but feel like I'll never be as good as everyone else. And I feel like you did that to make me feel better..."

Han pulled you into a tight hug, his voice gentle and soothing. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You're incredibly talented and creative, and your art is a reflection of who you are. It's unique and beautiful, just like you."

You clung to him, the sincerity in his words slowly breaking through your walls. "I just want to feel like I'm enough," you whispered.

Han held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "You are more than enough. Your worth isn't defined by how perfect your art or writing is or how you compare to others. It's about the passion and love you put into what you do."

His words resonated with you, and you felt a sense of comfort and reassurance. Han's unwavering support and belief in you made a difference, and you realized that your insecurities didn't define you.

"And I didn't make that song to make you feel better...I made it so you could see just how much inspiration I find from you. Y/N I love you more than anything. So, I was over the moon when I wrote this. And even more elated when I got to use the words the love of my life wrote. That's only the demo..." He grins sheepishly. "I was thinking...it would sound cool if you could leave that poem as a voicemail. I could make it the outro of the song..."

You looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean it?"

"Of course I mean it baby. I mean... I know Stay speculates I'm in a relationship...it's been a year now so I feel like this would be a fun way of confirming that. And I want the world to hear the beautiful voice of my baby." He coos, squishing your cheeks.

You giggle and nod, as Han peppers kisses all over your face.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch, Han handed you a sketchbook he had bought for you. "I got this for you. I want you to fill it with whatever makes you happy. No pressure, just pure creativity. It doesn't even have to be art. Maybe you could write me more poems..."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Ji. For everything."

Han wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close. "I'm always here for you. And for inspiration. Because you're my inspiration." He says nuzzling his nose against yours.

You leaned into him, feeling a sense of peace and contentment.

His inspiration. You thought.

What an amazing thing to be...

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel

[thedensworld]

I need your fluff scoups please🥺

Time for the Rose | C.Sc

Pairing: Scoups x Readera

Genre: Fluff, established relationship

Summary: you found out how he always got you flower at the perfect time.

Not only are you dating at the perfect time, but you are also dating the perfect man. Seungcheol loves giving you flowers ever since he discovered your secret fondness for them. It was during his first visit to your place when he noticed a bouquet of fresh flowers laying on your kitchen countertop. His mind immediately raced, wondering, "Who's the guy brave enough to give you flowers?" Especially when he thought he had made it clear to everyone that you were his.

"I got those myself after work," you explained, noticing the puzzled look on his face.

Seungcheol tilted his head, still uncertain. "You got them?" he asked, seeking confirmation. You nodded enthusiastically, taking the bouquet and showing it to him.

"Isn't it pretty? I usually get roses, but they were sold out. So daisies are my second choice," you said with a bright smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, charmed by your excitement over the flowers. To him, they paled in comparison to your beauty. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful thing in the room.

From that moment on, Seungcheol made it a point to bring you flowers regularly. It became his way of showing his affection and making sure that the sight of fresh blooms never left your kitchen countertop.

He loves seeing the flowers he gives you sit in vases around your house. Sometimes they are red, pink, or white. You always say that the kind doesn't matter, but he knows you love it every time he hands you red roses. The smile on your face that reaches your eyes, the sound of your laughter every time he shows up from afar with a bouquet in his hand—these are the moments he cherishes the most.

Oh, how he loves those moments. He makes sure to keep them forever, capturing each one in his heart like a precious photograph.

Besides that, Seungcheol loves that you get flowers for other people, a fact that makes him fall even harder for you. It was lunchtime when he picked you up from work to have lunch together. On the way back to the office, you asked him to stop at the flower shop.

"Didn't I get you some flowers just a few days ago, love?" he asked, worried that maybe he was forgetting something.

You nodded with a smile. "These are for Minji. It's her birthday today."

Seungcheol watched as your smile grew wider the moment you entered the flower shop. Your eyes closed with every breath you took, savoring the scent of the flowers. He couldn't help but look at your face closely, feeling grateful to be the man standing beside you with your arm linked to his.

Seeing you this happy over something so simple made his heart swell with love. He couldn't imagine anyone else being in his place, sharing these precious moments with you.

"What do you want to get for her?" he asked, his mouth drawing closer to your ear, a habit he had whenever he spoke to you.

You turned your head to him, your eyes sparkling. "I was thinking of getting yellow roses, but everything looks so pretty here," you said, your mouth pouting in a way that Seungcheol found utterly adorable.

"Why do you like flowers so much?" Seungcheol finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"They're pretty," you said simply. "And they have meaning. You know I love things that are subtle and symbolic."

Seungcheol nodded. You always had a penchant for the symbolic, for gestures that spoke volumes without needing words. It was one of the many things he adored about you.

"Like yellow roses for friendship, sunflowers to show adoration, and irises to show faith and hope," you continued.

Seungcheol smiled, his thoughts drifting to your favorite flower. "How about red and white roses?" he asked.

You pondered for a moment before selecting yellow lilies and white daisies for Minji and asking the staff to arrange them into a bouquet. You shifted your attention back to him and smiled. "Love and purity."

Seungcheol shook his head in disbelief, guiding you out of the store. Though he prided himself on his masculinity, he found himself considering learning about flowers just for you. Every time he saw the joy they brought to your face, he knew it was worth it.

*

You finally visited Seungcheol's office after a long time. He had sent you a text earlier saying he would be busy today and couldn’t pick you up for lunch. However, you asked if it would be okay to visit him instead, and his response was ecstatic. Seungcheol just loved having you around.

Seungcheol waited for you in front of the elevator, a wide smile spreading across his face as soon as he saw your figure revealed by the opening doors. He immediately took everything from your hands, the lunch you brought for the two of you, as he walked you to his office. His staff mostly knew who you were by now. Seungcheol had made it clear that he was dating someone amazing and had proudly introduced you to everyone. They seemed to enjoy the sight of their boss looking completely smitten every time you visited.

Once inside his office, Seungcheol set the lunch down on his desk and turned to you, his eyes filled with affection. "I’m so glad you came," he said, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You two were conversing comfortably as you savored the lunch you brought. You asked him about the job that had kept him busy, and he explained it to you in detail. While talking, your eyes wandered around his office and landed on something that piqued your interest. A single red rose sat in a vase on his desk.

"You have a rose in your office?" you asked excitedly.

He nodded with a smile. "That's your flower."

You didn't understand, so you asked, "What do you mean, my flower?"

"I always take one of your flowers and take care of it just like you do, so I know when it's time to get you another one," he explained.

Your body felt like it had stopped working. That's how he knew how long they would last.

Everything made sense now. He always seemed to know the perfect time to get you a bouquet of flowers—always exactly a day before your current ones began to wilt. Typically, your flowers would last 10 days to two weeks, but sometimes they withered sooner. Yet, Seungcheol always had another bouquet ready, as if he had been with you, watching over the flowers together.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. "You really pay attention to everything, don't you?"

He shrugged with a modest grin. "I just want to make sure you always have something beautiful to look at."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you, Seungcheol. For everything."

He leaned in, "anything for you," he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

You looked him in the eyes, your gaze full of adoration, and you couldn't help but pull him closer and kiss him right away. He seemed flustered and mumbled, "We're at my office, love," but you didn't care. You loved him so much and felt an urgent need to let him know.

"I love you, babe," you whispered, smiling as your palm rested on his cheek, caressing it slowly.

Seungcheol closed his eyes as his smile grew wider. "Fuck it, I love you too, love," he said before grabbing the nape of your neck and pulling you in for a kiss.

A kiss at lunchtime in his office.

Seungcheol was glad he had installed blinds in his office two weeks ago.

[aventurineswife]

Urm… can I rq Honkai men reacting to your babies giving them a drawing of your family for Father’s Day?🥺 (please include Gepard and Jing Yuan and Boothill if possible pls I love your work so much)

A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

Tags: Gepard Landau, Jing Yuan, Boothill, Father’s Day, Parenthood, Emotional, Fluff, Character Development, Comfort, Hugs, Drawing, Protective, Tender Moments, Character-Centric.

It was a quiet morning in the Landau estate, and Gepard was finishing his patrol rounds when his young child bounded up to him, holding something tightly in their small hands. Their face was beaming with excitement.

“Papa, Papa! Look!” they shouted, their voice filled with joy.

Gepard bent down, his gaze softening as he looked at the drawing they handed him. It was a colorful sketch, a crayon masterpiece. The child had drawn a picture of their family: Gepard standing tall in his familiar white armor, their parent beside him with a kind smile, and the child, of course, depicted with their tiny arms wrapped around both of them. The details were simple, yet the love and warmth shone through the child’s shaky lines. The family was drawn under a sunny sky, a house with flowers in front of it, and even a little silvermane guard helmet beside Gepard, as a symbol of their pride.

Gepard’s heart swelled with emotion as he traced his finger over the crayon-drawn figures. His stern demeanor softened, and for a moment, he looked at the drawing in silence. His child eagerly waited for his reaction, and he smiled, kneeling to their level.

“This is beautiful,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you so much, my little one.”

Gepard gently pulled the child into a warm hug, his strong arms wrapping around them tightly. He had faced countless battles in his life, but nothing compared to the overwhelming feeling of being loved and treasured by his family. His duty to protect them, to protect Belobog, never felt so meaningful.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa!” the child said, snuggling against him.

“Happy Father’s Day,” Gepard repeated softly, the words more tender than they had ever been. He held the drawing close to his chest, knowing it would be a cherished reminder of this precious moment for the rest of his life.

The day had started like any other on the Xianzhou Luofu, with Jing Yuan overseeing the Cloud Knights’ preparations. He had always been a calm and composed leader, preferring to let things flow naturally, and today was no different. However, when his child appeared before him, holding a brightly colored drawing, he couldn't help but smile warmly.

“Papa!” they said, their face alight with excitement. “Look what I made for you!”

Jing Yuan’s eyes softened, and he paused in the middle of organizing some scrolls. He took the drawing from their small hands and studied it carefully. The crayon sketch depicted a grand scene: Jing Yuan was in his full armor, standing tall with a calm expression, as his child and their parent stood beside him. The family was surrounded by soft clouds, with the words “I love you, Papa” written in bold letters at the top. A small cub—perhaps inspired by his rumored pet Mimi—was also drawn by the child’s hand, faithfully recreating the spirit of his ever-present companion.

Jing Yuan chuckled softly as he examined the picture, his fingers gently tracing the lines of his own image on the page. He could feel a deep sense of pride and tenderness swelling inside him.

“Thank you, little one,” he said, his voice rich with affection. “This means the world to me.”

He set the drawing aside, pulling the child into his arms for a tender hug. His normally detached demeanor gave way to a softness that only those closest to him ever witnessed.

“Happy Father’s Day, Papa!” the child exclaimed, hugging him back.

“Happy Father’s Day,” Jing Yuan replied, his voice full of love as he gazed down at the drawing once more. The peace he had worked so hard to maintain on the Luofu, the victories and trials, they all paled in comparison to the warmth in his heart. With his family by his side, he had everything he truly needed.

Boothill sat on a worn-out bench beneath a starry sky, his mechanical fingers tapping idly on the worn leather of his gloves. His mind was a whirl of thoughts, but his gaze lingered on the quiet town below—just another stop on his long journey across the galaxy. He’d been a lone wolf for so long, it was hard to imagine a time when he’d ever know peace again. But everything had changed since meeting you—the one who had managed to make a heart as cold as his start beating again.

You stepped up behind him, a gentle smile on your face as you approached, holding something small in your hands. Boothill turned slightly, eyebrow raised, sensing the presence of your little ones—his babies. They stood just out of sight, giggling quietly, holding something between them.

“What’s this?” Boothill asked, leaning forward slightly.

One of the little ones, with a shy smile, stepped forward and held up a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s a drawing... for you, Papa,” they said, voice barely above a whisper.

Boothill blinked, his expression unreadable. His eyes scanned the paper as he took it into his hands. At first, it was just a chaotic mess of colors and shapes—lines, stars, and some strange squiggles—but as his gaze sharpened, he saw something familiar. The drawing depicted a rough sketch of your family, together. He could make out you in the center, smiling. Beside you, Boothill saw himself—his white hair, his cowboy hat, and those unmistakable red stars on his shoulders.

He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. It was simple, childlike—but it was genuine. The scribbled lines somehow managed to capture the love and warmth that had begun to form a bond between him and the children. The warmth he thought was long gone.

One of the kids giggled, bouncing on their heels. “It’s for Father’s Day,” they added, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Boothill’s breath caught in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. It had been so long since anyone had called him a father, or even treated him as part of something like this. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the weight of the paper in his hands seemed to ground him.

Slowly, Boothill lifted his gaze, and despite the tough exterior, something vulnerable flickered in his eyes. His voice came out low, gruff, but laced with something softer than usual. “Thank you, kid.”

He paused, then looked at the other, trying to suppress a rare smile. “And you too.”

The children beamed, their small faces lighting up as they stepped forward for a hug. Boothill hesitated for a moment, his mechanical limbs creaking as he moved, but then he knelt down, gathering them into his arms, his cold metal body strangely warm with the weight of their trust.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Boothill finally allowed himself to relax, just a little. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he could protect something more than just his revenge.

The drawing was crumpled, imperfect—but it was his, and that meant everything.