#a seemingly romantic line

[sskk-manifesto]

:)

[xcziel]

why is jin always the fucking VIBE

[deathbxnny]

hey I need you SO BAD to do like an arcane reaction where they’re drunk and what they do/say while it and btw I love your writing

What Arcane characters are like when drunk. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

So this may have become a little too angsty for some of them, so uh... don't mind me-

Also, thank you so much! I'm glad you love my writing. It means a lot to me!<33

Content: Alcohol obviously, some potential heavy angst, Pit fighter Vi, established romantic relationships, some toxic behavior, this has been written by someone who has never drank a sip of alcohol in their life so I'm sorry if this is unrealistic, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not fully proofread))

》VI

Her being drunk wasn't unusual, and in fact, it has become the norm for her at this point. It was the only way for her to numb the agony she was going through every day, and there was no stopping the cycle she was in. If she wasn't drunk, then she was fighting. But even the line that was drawn between those two states she was constantly in was becoming blurry and unintelligible. Things were getting out of hand, and so was her aggression towards everything that moved, anything that cared for her.

But at least you were still here with her, trying your best to keep her together and intact when she refused to be.

She can be cruel and unfocused whilst drunk, often either yelling or punching things to express her frustrations, and yet she never dared hurt you. You were the only light she had left, and she'd be damned if she snuffed you out, too. But this doesn't mean that she can control her words at times. She says things she regrets all the time, insults that cut deep or accusations that made no sense were common. Yet you stayed, you always stayed.

A part of her knows you deserve better, but until Jinx showed up, she refused to wane off the bottle that kept her even partially functioning daily. In a different life, she'd put the bottle down, however, and just finally hug you instead.

》CAITLYN

She doesn't drink much, and when she does, it's in strict moderation. She has a reputation to keep up and can't let her sharp senses falter at any time, especially once she becomes the commander of Piltover. But when it's just the two of you attempting to relax after an impossibly stressful day, the alcohol helps her relax and become more open with her troubles. Her grief had manifested into an uncontrollable force she shyed away from every speaking on, but in drunken moments like these, she'll allow herself to find melancholy in your arms, her flushed face pressed into your shoulder as she did so.

She may cry or laugh of the worries of the day, maybe break down from the guilt and frustrations, let the anger quell over but only still hesitantly even with her judgment clouded. This is a very rare state to see her in after the loss of her mother, and she trusts you to keep this vulnerable part of her safe and sound in your heart behind locked lips.

With that said, knowing how emotional she can get whilst drunk, she tries avoiding drinking too much during functions in case things get too much out of hand. She'd rather not make a fool of herself infront of everyone after all.

》JINX

She doesn't typically drink. But the few times she does with you at her side, she somehow becomes extremely calm and lazy. She'll practically lay in the chair she was sitting in, eyes squinting at a far away point on the wall, whilst she seemingly contemplates life. Most would think that the alcohol would enable her crazy tendencies even more, but alas, it simply turns her mostly docile.

I say mostly, as she usually mentally comes up with the craziest plans instead, all of which are questionably more unethical than the last. She'll eventually lose herself in those thoughts and become either unresponsive or mutter the silliest, incomprehensible things known to man. And there is certainly no in-between.

With that said, she will probably eventually snap out of it and begin rapidly speaking about all these thoughts to you without a single care in the world. Drunk Jinx is somehow less miserable and yet absolutely doesn't like the feeling of it afterward. Sure, it makes her mind stop thinking about her issues and past, but it still feels wrong, hence why it's rare to see her drunk.

Her terrible hangovers alone also cause her to stay away from alcohol in general. It's definitely not worth that pain to her.

》EKKO

Another person who doesn't drink often at all, albeit out of his responsibility as a leader. He has to be a good role model for everyone and only drinks when the occasion calls for it, like a festival or get together with friends and you. That's when he lets loose a little and allows himself to drink more than he probably should, resulting in a very clingy and loving Ekko.

His alcohol tolerance is embarrassingly low, and he always tells himself that he should know better than to down so many glasses at once... yet it's hard to keep count after about 2 and a half of them. Or so he'd say after he sobers up in the morning, much to your amusement. During the time he's fully hammered, though, he'll always have a hand in you and slur his words rather heavily, whilst he practically near proclaims his love for you for everyone to hear. This often results in you having to slap a hand over his mouth before he embarrasses himself further... which is somehow he hates.

He gets teased by the others all the time for it and glares when they mock his loving tone of voice that he only uses when he's in that impaired state with you. This alone makes him abstain from even a singular drop of alcohol... until the next festival roles around and he forgets to keep count again.

But hey, maybe he'll remember next time because you sure as hell won't remind him.

》SEVIKA

She drinks at bars all the time with you, although it's rare to see her ever get completely drunk. She has an extremely high tolerance to alcohol and it shows when there is barely a difference in her behavior. The only thing that may indicate something influencing her would be a slight slur in her voice and her being unwilling to get up or move around much at all. She'll just want to relax and play poker in peace, even if it starts getting hard to see the cards after a while.

Another way to tell that she may be getting drunk is by her sudden overprotectiveness. Sure, it was always there and never left, despite you being able to handle yourself alone. But when she's drunk, anyone that looks at you for too long in a way she doesn't like will either be punched in the face or yelled at to keep it moving.

She also definitely always denys being drunk or even tipsy when you ask her. Whether out of pride or stubbornness, you'll never know, but she will never admit to it. It doesn't matter if she denies it whilst being unable to walk straight either.

[fayes-fics]

A Beneficial Arrangement

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A marriage pact with a Viscount. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f), loss of virginity, vaginal sex. Bickering, developing relationship.

Word Count: 6.1 k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Anon request fill from HERE (Anthony and a headstrong independent reader make an unconventional marriage pact). Sorry it's taken so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy! <3

It’s a dreary, rather ordinary Tuesday in spring when your life takes a turn.

“The Viscount is in want of a wife.” 

That statement is all you hear as you walk past the drawing room where your mother is taking tea with her good friend, the dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

“My eldest needs a husband,” your mother responds, offering you as if merely chattel; bile rises indignantly as she does so. “But I fear she is far too outspoken to be a suitable Viscountess.” 

You sigh in relief, ear pressed to the closed door now.

“Oh, believe me, nothing would be a better match for my darling Anthony than someone who will challenge him, stand up to him,” Violet peals a knowing laugh. “We should arrange a meeting.”

——

3 days later.

He assesses you with a cool eye as your gaze drifts briefly over to both of your mothers, watching expectantly from a nearby table in the tea shop.

“You should know I will only be taking a wife to fulfil my societal duty,” he sniffs airly. “However, I do not expect you to produce an heir. The title may pass to my younger brothers; they are more inclined to form romantic attachments than I. Their offspring can inherit this title; it feels like a curse anyhow,” he adds quieter, his tone mildly embittered.

“Well, on your attitude to marriage, I can wholeheartedly agree,” you state, stirring your tea primly. “I do not wish to be shackled. I wish to remain free. I shall marry, as there is no other path available to me, but I do not plan nor do I ever want to be someone's wife.” You utter the word with disdain as if it is toxic. 

His admittedly very handsome face transforms into one of surprise, a faint dot of colour on his cheeks as he peers at you as if assessing you in a new light.

“What?” You frown at him, his silent stare becoming too heavy to bear as his interest and engagement intensify.

“You are the first woman I have ever met who shares my outlook,” he confesses, seemingly caught off-guard. “It is so utterly refreshing… and, frankly, novel.” He pauses to pass his fingers slowly over his lips in a way that makes your stomach swoop, even if you refuse to acknowledge such even to yourself. “I do believe we should meet again to discuss this further,” he concludes.

And thus, you find yourself with the suit of one Viscount Anthony Bridgerton, both of your mothers overjoyed at the prospect.

——

9 days later.

“If I must marry, you are the most tolerable woman I have met, I must concede,” he states nonchalantly as you meet to promenade. 

It’s quite an opening line for only your third meeting, even for someone as renownedly blunt as the Viscount.

“And a good afternoon to you too, Viscount Bridgerton,” you drawl pointedly with a raised eyebrow, subtly hinting how his greeting may have been lacking.

He chuckles, a flash of what looks like admiration in his dark eyes.

“As such,” he continues, “I would not be averse to a martial arrangement with you. An agreement, a pact if you will, based on our mutual understanding of what we both want from such an endeavour.”

The speed and pragmatism of his apparent proposal do not surprise you in the least. In fact, you are actually grateful for the lack of ceremony around it. If you must marry, you prefer it be swift.

“Did you mean what you said last week? In the tearoom?” You quiz as you begin to walk shoulder to shoulder through Hyde Park, the early summer air heavy with the scent of roses.

“Every word,” he replies solemnly.

“Then, I suppose this is a beneficial arrangement for me too,” you shrug as if agreeing about the weather, not the very course of your future. But there is something about this man that feels inevitable, fateful, but not in a way you dread. Also, his face is so very pleasing. If you must indeed marry, at least the view across the dinner table will be nice.

“Then it is decided,” he nods decisively, a brusque smile passing over his lips. “I so greatly appreciate your candidness with regard to this matter. It makes the whole business so much easier to deal with.”

He offers a hand to shake, and you take it, bemused, shaking on the deal, pretending this mere touch doesn't make every butterfly in your stomach roar to life.

“I shall make the arrangements swiftly,” he states, again with a short smile and nod.

You are married within three weeks.

——

6 weeks later.

‘‘What on earth is this?” he practically spits as he rounds the corner of Bridgerton House onto the back lawn.

“What does it look like?” you sass, tearing the netted visor from your face.

“It looks an awful lot like my wife is fencing,” his reply dripping with conceited judgement.

“Well, I’m glad to know you do not need glasses, husband,” you respond dryly, nodding to accept the excuses of the butler you were sparring with, who suddenly seems very keen to scurry away now the Viscount has arrived.

“Perkins, do not think this has gone unnoticed,” Anthony calls pointedly after the retreating man.

“Leave him alone!” you bark, taking your husband aback with your ferocity, him turning to you and almost gaping in surprise. “Perkins must do my bidding as lady of the house, and I told him to fence with me,” you elucidate, keen that the innocent party not suffer any consequences for your decision. 

“Women do not fence,” he sniffs, changing the subject somewhat.

“This one does,” you riposte, spearing your epee tip into the grass to remove the suede gloves.

“It is unbecoming of a Viscountess,” he adds almost haughtily.

“Good thing such matters hold no truck with me,” you shrug, knowing you are likely provoking him. 

To hell with what is appropriate for a titled lady. The title, and all of its stifling rules and expectations, is the very last reason you married the man standing before you. No, the reason is far, far more simultaneously complex and simple than that. He excites you—in ways you don't even want to admit to yourself.

It’s not something you would divulge to anyone, but arguing with your new husband has become your new favourite pastime. On the rare occasions you see him, that is. Since your wedding day, you have mostly been ships passing at the dinner table; otherwise, your lives have been very separate. At night, his rooms are at the other end of the long hallway from yours, and his days are apparently filled with business obligations. While the utter freedom to fill your days as you wish has been a blessing, it’s also been perhaps a touch lonely.

When you do see Anthony, you invariably end up clashing about something. And, well, it’s often the highlight of your week. A thrill zipping down your spine as you do so. The only person you have met who can keep up with your verbal sparring. It makes you excited, breathless, dizzy, a fizz low in your belly that feels entirely beguiling. Today is no different; you feel that same sensation as he stares at you, arms crossed, exasperated.

“Well, if you insist upon this rebellious pastime,’ he sighs after a few beats, snatching your epee, “the least you can do is improve your grip,” he grouses, rolling his eyes.

You startle as he crowds into your back, a warm hand wrapping around yours as he passes you the blade and demonstrates a different way to wield it that you concede feels better. The spike of victory in your bloodstream from winning the argument morphs into something entirely different as he stands behind you, his breath tickling your ear and the tendrils of your hair as he provides instruction. 

You try to take the details on board, but your thoughts scatter with his overwhelming proximity. How have you never noticed the stirring amber notes of his cologne before? Or how very broad his chest is compared to his slim hips? Perhaps because this is the closest you have ever been, his body heat seeping into your spine, your heart fluttering hard against your ribs. You can’t decide if this effect your husband can have on you is the best or the worst thing. Somehow, it feels like both.

——

1 month later.

You are both relieved to avoid most of the season on the pretence of being on honeymoon, but inevitably, the time comes when you must debut as a married couple. Speculation about you growing ever since Lady Whistledown breathlessly reported your nuptials, a nearly unknown minor Ton member rapidly snaring the most eligible of perenially eligible bachelors.

So when you enter your first ball as Viscountess Bridgerton, all eyes are upon you. You feel mildly uncomfortable bedecked in jewels and a heavy silk dress, but know refinement is of importance at events such as these. You just cannot wait to get home and get out of them. This will never be your preferred milieu, a sentiment you apparently share with your husband—underneath his calm, unruffled exterior, you sense his dampened disquiet.

“Smile politely, nod in acknowledgement, but don't engage for any longer than necessary,” he counsels under his breath as an inevitable hush falls over the room when your arrival is announced. You are grateful for his steadfast support, his arm looped reassuringly through yours as you follow his advice, knowing he has navigated these waters much more than you have needed to. “The best thing to do is seem frightfully ordinary,” he explains quietly as you complete a circuit of the room. “They are ravenous for gossip; if none is to be had, their preoccupation will swiftly wane.”

Indeed, the initial excitement about your appearance soon dies down as other, perhaps more flamboyant, guests arrive. People approach expressing surprise about your union, but once he economically explains you just knew you were right for each other, they often quickly move on, seeming almost disappointed at the lack of apparent scandal.

As the evening progresses, you school your tongue at some of the barbs you overhear, more out of a wish to be left alone rather than any adherence to social rules. Most of the things that appear to preoccupy the Ton you have little patience for. As Anthony spends some time with business acquaintances, you eventually find yourself in the company of the female members of his family, whom you are quickly becoming very fond of with every passing day in their company. Particularly his benevolent mother and headstrong sister, Eloise. In fact, the latter is the primary witness to the flare of your true nature, fatigue overriding your ability to remain silent.

Cressida Cowper is being particularly venomous about a mutual acquaintance. Eloise is quick with her witty tongue in reply, and you cannot stop yourself from piling on your scorn as well.

“Perhaps if the braiding of your hair were less painful, it would allow you greater empathy,” you retort before you can stop yourself.

Eloise’s responding guffaw sprays lemonade all over Cressida, whose shocked mien is the last thing you see before she turns heel to attend to her ruined dress in private.

“That was sensational!” Eloise wheezes in awe as she blots the remnants of her beverage from her chin.

You sigh.

“It was unwise,” you correct, knowing you have probably just made an enemy of one of the worst gossips of the Ton.

“It was wholly accurate and justified,” a cool, authoritative voice cuts in, and you look up to find your husband before you, a rapt glint in his eye that makes your lungs feel tight. It appears he may have also been witness to the moment.

Eloise’s eyes briefly ping-pong between the two of you, and then she loops an arm into the crook of Anthony’s as you continue to gaze at each other, cataloguing something new about each other that you mutually admire.

“I like her,” Eloise nods at you. “Excellent choice of wife, brother,” she grins.

It breaks the spell between you but seems to further ingratiate you with at least one member of his family. And that makes you feel light as air in a way you don't fully understand.

——

2 months later.

Funnily enough, it’s another random Tuesday when your life takes a complete turn. Yet again, you find yourself in another heated debate with your husband of barely twelve weeks. This time while sojourning at your country estate, Aubrey Hall.

“Must you?” Anthony gripes, standing up from his desk and rounding towards where you stand.

“Must I what? Speak my mind?” you bite back, hands on your hips.

“Be so damn argumentative,” he expounds, hands also on hips, chest heaving a little, “urghh, you are so aggravating!”

“Same!” You shoot back. “I have never met a man quite as disagreeable as you,” you add, not realising as you argue that you have taken steps closer and are now huffing irritated breaths close to each other's faces.

“Why did you agree to marry me then?” he snarls, his gaze suddenly fixated on your bottom lip, unbeknownst to you, it’s glistening and swollen from biting in irritation at his demeanour.

“Right now, I have no earthly idea,” you volley in return, but your pounding heart gives away the real reason. No one makes you feel quite as alive as Anthony, even when he is driving you up the wall, like right now. “Why did you agree to marry me, seeing as I am so very ‘aggravating’?” you spit, parroting the word back at him.

His stare blisters as he draws himself to full height right before you.

“We made a pact,” he huffs, “this is duty, nothing more.” 

But the way he breathes and holds himself speaks to something else. A war in his body and mind. The maelstrom in his eyes belying his words… and then it hits you. So singular it knocks the wind from your lungs. This is desire. He wants you. In all the ways a man can want a woman. 

And damn it all to hell if you don’t feel precisely the same.

“For me as well,” your tart, mendacious reply is bitter on your tongue.

The tension in the air is taut like a cord, ready to snap. You both toe to toe, noses almost touching, laboured breaths as you stare each other down like some game to see who will capitulate first. 

“I do believe we are at an impasse… wife,” the last word dripping with disdain, but he is leaning closer than he ever has, his lips fractional inches from yours.

“It would appear so…,” you concur, “…husband,” you roll the last word slowly, lingering on the end of the first syllable as if it is both a treat and a bitter pill on your tongue.

“I have been raised a gentleman,” he hisses, “but there are times that you test my resolve.”

“I do nothing of the sort!” you decry, knowing you are lying even to yourself now. Somedays lately, you live to simply push his buttons, just to see what he will do. “And resolve of what? To not be a good husband? Because I can tell you, forthright, you are doing a wonderful job of being a terrible husband,” you goad, knowing you are poking the proverbial beast now.

“I give you a wonderful home to run as you please, I give you the freedom to pursue whatever pastimes you wish, I let you speak your mind. As Viscountess, the world is yours. What else could you possibly want in a husband? I do not ask you to do things, wifely things, that I could,” he warns, his voice buzzing low. “I could demand you submit to my will; it is my right,” he growls.

A flame behind your ribs catches fire, even as your eyes flash indignant.

“You do not wish for that sort of wife; you told me as much yourself.” It’s a heated whisper, much breathier than you mean it to be.

“A man can change his mind,” he gravels, “same as a woman can change hers if she wishes.”

“What made you change your mind?” 

He fixes you with a hypnotic, weighted stare.

“You.”

The way that one word drips from his lips tilts your whole existence. It’s so loaded you don’t know what to say. Unmoored, your system awash with chemicals, your mind flooding with images of sketches you have seen of men and women together. Of what the marital act can entail. It’s something you believed would not ever be a part of your marriage, your life, even, but now…. 

Now your handsome husband is staring at you, ragged breaths, face wild, telling you he has changed his mind. Maybe he wants that sort of marriage, that sort of union. Something gallops hard in your chest as he steps away, as if wrongly intuiting you are about to turn down his suit, and something bubbles up from deep inside you.

“Do not dare,” you growl.

His mouth falls open in shock.

“Do not tease me so and leave me wanting,” you continue with a boldness and timbre you barely recognise as your own. “‘Tis crueller to build false hope than to take what you want,” you sniff and stare him down, so wholly decisive in your intentions and desires. If this is the nudge he needs, you’ll give it.

“You want me to exercise my conjugal rights?” he falters, appearing utterly stunned.

You don’t answer; just do one thing, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. You close the last few inches and press your lips to his. 

They are soft and plush against yours, making your insides warm and glowing. Then, Anthony makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. So ferociously, you squeak into his mouth as he opens your lips and slides his tongue over yours, his strong arms pulling you into an embrace so you are enveloped by his warm body.

Good lord.

You feel like you are drowning in him as he grabs your jaw, directing the kiss, turning it into something wholly other. Your lips move endlessly together as you both greedily take from the other for what seems like ages. When you pull apart, you are both heaving breaths and staring at each other, almost confused.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” you snarl, wanting to rip every item of clothing from your body and his.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds airily.

And then you crash into each other again. Drinking desperately from each other's mouths, powerless to resist whatever flame draws you together. 

He walks you backwards as your tongues tangle, and you startle slightly as your bottom hits his imposing desk. Hands loop around your thighs, and he hoists you into the surface, never breaking the intoxicating kiss.

He tries to step between your legs, but your column dress is too tight to allow it. You attempt to wiggle the hem upwards as you kiss, then, with a frustrated grunt, he bats your hands away and, using a strength that shocks you, rips the silk material asunder from the hem to your hip.

“I loved this dress!” you decry over his lips, unwilling to admit you’d destroy every single dress you own if he just kept kissing you like this.

“I’ll buy you another,” he dismisses, pushing your thighs wide with his hands. “I’ll buy you as many as you want.” 

“You had better,” you challenge, scarcely able to believe you even have the wherewithal to debate with him, especially as this is the first time a man has ever touched your bare leg.

He pulls back from the kiss to stare intently into your eyes as his fingertips trace from your kneecap up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You don’t mean to, but you tremble, having never been touched this way before. You gasp as his palm cups the apex of your thighs, his hand feeling so warm through the thin silk protecting your modesty, his fingers swirling circles over your patch of hair as the heel of his palm presses against your slit.

“I can feel your heat,” he hisses.

You can barely process what is happening, your body rioting as he touches and teases you, staring you down. Instinctively, you reach for the tiny buttons at your hip, but your hands fall away as he flicks his middle finger downwards and catches a nub that makes your body buck.

“Anthony,” it falls from your lips unbidden with a halting breath. It may well be the first time you have uttered his first name in his presence.

He groans at the sound. “Please, always say my name like that,” he pleads through gritted teeth.

So you repeat it, the same intonation, even as that finger drags slowly up and down over the swollen pearl between your legs, undone by how good it feels.

“Are you chaste?” he inquires; it’s not judgemental in tone, just pure curiosity, his ministrations lighter.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, “but I do know of the marital act”, you add, wanting him to know you are not entirely innocent.

“Hmm,” he hums, looking at once thoughtful and blistering, his finger moving more insistently again, “I am glad to hear it. Then you shall not be entirely shocked by what is about to happen?”

“So… we are to undertake it? The act?” you stutter, his finger making you feel so good you have to bite your lip.

But he doesn’t answer your question directly. 

“Wife, how attached are you to these undergarments?” his tone almost idle, cocking his head to the side as his gaze lingers over them.

You shrug practically. “I have many exactly the same.”

Then, you gasp loudly as the sound of silk tearing fills the room. You are quaking as the warm air of his study swirls around your exposed, damp slit. He shocks you by dropping to his knees before you. Pushing your thighs wide on his desk and looking up at you with burningly intense eyes, he presses his face to your flesh, inhaling deeply, his nose buried in your pubic hair before his tongue peeks out and nudges the swollen nub he was teasing through the silk. 

Your mouth drops open, and something inhuman escapes your lungs. Then he does it again, this time enclosing the whole area between his lips and sucking hard on your flesh, tongue curling and ploughing into your folds. The heat, the suction, the muscular swipe of his tongue feels so good your mind blanks out, a tremor in your splayed thighs that he holds forcibly open with warm hands. He keeps doing so for a few moments as your fingernails curl hard into the edge of his desk, scarcely able to do anything but writhe and gently moan. IIdly you think upon all of your curious research, never once had you heard of or read about a man doing as he is now, placing his head between his wife’s thighs and sniffing, drinking from her body.

“You are plenty ready for me, wife,” he huffs, his warm breath tickling your responsive folds, little ripples of pleasure deep inside scattering your thoughts. “Are you averse to me taking you right here?” he waves a hand nonchalantly at his large, imposing carved wooden desk.

“I… I rather thought su-such things could only ha-happen in a bed,” you confess stiltedly, a quiver in your voice.

He smirks up from between your thighs, turning his head to kiss the fragile skin there. “Oh, no, wife. We can fuck anywhere we please…” he pauses and looks sincere, “however, should you prefer a bed…”

“Here is fine,” you rush out, so very keen to have your husband make a woman of you. As if leaving this room may break the spell you are under. Location be damned. You just want to know him. He smirks again, placing a final quick kiss on your flesh, looking very pleased at your response.

“I wholeheartedly concur,” he rumbles as he hoists himself back up to stand, stepping inwards to rock his clothed pelvis against your pulsing nub. There is something hot and swollen in his trousers now, and you realise this must be his member. 

“Show it to me,” you enthuse, nodding at the insistent bulge.

“So very impatient all of a sudden, wife,” he scolds with a bemused chuckle, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand over the bump. It feels so hot and steely even through the fabric. “Unbutton me,” he orders casually, pointing to the fastening at his hip. 

Exuberantly, you undo them quickly, keen to see if his member matches the sketches you have viewed. As the front of his trousers falls away, he quickly pushes down his white underwear. There, nestled in a thatch of dark hair at the base, is your husband's cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. It seems more considerable than the drawings you have seen, and you are temporarily taken aback by how red and almost angry it looks at the tip.

“Go ahead, touch it,” Anthony encourages, and with a slight tremble in your fingers, you reach forward and make contact with him.

“Oh!” you exclaim without thought, “it’s so soft, your skin, and so hot!” 

He chuckles warmly at your assessment. “Indeed,” he huffs as you wrap your hand instinctively around it, feeling its weight and mass in your palm.

“This will not fit inside me, surely?” you blurt out.

“It will, I promise,” his tone mellow, tinged with understanding even as his breath staccatos when you start to move your hand, the instinct to rub inexplicable, but seemingly precisely what he wants. “Yes, perfect,” he rasps, eyes closing and tongue peaking out to lick his lips.

The odd mix of total honesty and soft appreciation between you as you acquaint yourselves with each other's bodies seems very apt, as if this is the only way such a development would ever transpire. And you realise, as you cradle his most intimate parts, that you trust this man with your very being. Despite your bickering, there is a thread of mutual respect under it that makes you feel safe, seen, and known in a way that no other person has.

“Take me now, husband,” you rattle through your teeth, watching a bead of something sticky form at the tip of his cock as you squeeze him in hypnotic, repetitive motions. The sight makes something in your body turn to fiery liquid, wanting him and that substance inside yourself in a way that doesn't make logical sense. 

He growls at your words, grabbing your hand away from his cock and bringing it to his mouth, kissing the back of your knuckles as your eyes lock, a chaste, almost romantic interlude.

But then his hands grab your hips and haul you almost roughly to the very edge of the desk, your torn dress framing your splayed thighs, his trousers around his ankles as he takes his cock in hand and rubs the tip over your folds of flesh in a way that makes you moan under your breath.

“Are you certain?” he checks, even as he pants anticipatorily.

“God, yes,” you confirm, craving him in a way you have never felt about anything before. An urgent hook tugging deep inside your loins, calling to him like a siren song.

“Watch,” he murmurs darkly, his other hand rounding the back of your neck so your gaze is tilted down to where his cock nudges your opening.

So you do, as does he. Stare down to where your body meet, hissing loudly as his tip slips inside your soaked channel. Your eyes want to roll back at the sheer overwhelming sensation of it, but equally, it's such an enthralling sight that you can’t look away.

He moans loudly, lewdly, decadently as he pushes further into your heat, pausing to readjust your legs wider and tilt your pelvis more open.

“This next part may hurt, darling,” he whispers quietly, the first time he has ever used such an affectionate term for you, making your heart race. 

“It's alright,” you reassure mutely in return, “I have heard as such.”

The hand around the back of your neck slides gently until he tilts your chin up to meet his tender gaze.

“You are quite the woman,” he says, almost reverential, as he leans in and captures your lips in a sweet, soft kiss. 

The movement propels his cock deeper into your body, and you cry out into his open mouth at a stab of sharp pain inside. 

“That's it done,” he mutters reassuringly into your lips as you whimper gently. 

He stills as you adjust to the girth, the heat, and feeling so very filled.

“More…” falls from your mouth spontaneously, the want rising, hungry for a need to be met, a thirst slaked, unlike anything you have experienced.

The smile that breaks out over his face makes your nipples pebble hard in your stays, and he slides deeper as you cling to him, exhaling unevenly as he keeps sinking further into your pussy, pushing you open. Just when you think you cannot take more, he stops, and you feel his body pressing wholly against yours.

You stare at each other, eyes wild and wide, unable to form words but knowing instinctually how good this feels for both of you. He looks untamed, something urgent rippling in his being. And without breaking the gaze, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock is inside you, then ploughs back in, in one determined, decisive stroke.

You don't stop the decadent noise that escapes your lungs, your toes curling into the soles of your feet at how wonderful and all-encompassing that feels. Same as you don't miss the victorious smirk on his face at your reaction.

Then it’s a hungry blur of movement as your hands grab his biceps through his clothing, clinging on for dear life as he proceeds to move just like that first thrust. Over and over. Building in pace and with increasing intensity, him sensing your need for such things.

“Anthony…” his name spills over your lips again, and the impact on him is nothing short of extraordinary.

His hands clamp vicelike to your hips, branding heatedly over your skin through your dress, straining the tendons of your inner thighs as he pushes your legs open impossibly wide, his pelvis crashing into yours in a way you are certain may leave bruises. And what shocks you most is just how much you want it. Want him to leave signs of his presence, want to look in the mirror and see the outline of his digits in the globes of your bottom.

He moans your name, hot and desperate, into your ear, his pace never wavering, a drop of sweat forming on his forehead that you can't look away from when he pulls back to tilt your heads together.

“I want to see,” you stumble out, pantingly, as he takes you harder.

“See what?” he sounds almost winded, his thrusts still spearing his cock into your body.

“See you entering me,” you huff into his cheek.

His responding noise is feral and has every inch of your body alight. He bows his spine outward so your bodies only touch where you are joined, and his hand feels heated and heavy on the back of your neck as you tilt your chin down to take in the sight.

His cock, rigid and huge, ploughing repeatedly into your body, shining with a slick substance you can only assume is from within you, the sight making you shudder, but not with anything approaching disgust. It’s something primal. A need to chase a conclusion, the power of the vivid tableau burned into your retinas.

“Don't stop, please don't stop,” you petition, looking back up to his face, your hands sliding up and down his torso now, raking urgent fingernails over his clothing.

He swears, and his lips are back on yours, searing and demanding. This feels like a frantic wave you are riding together, a trickle of moisture running down your spine as you start to push your hips forward as much as you can, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“You are fucking perfect,” he snarls over your tongue, and you couldn't agree more.

Time seems elastic as he lowers you so your back rests on the piles of no doubt important paperwork, not that he pays it any mind, him hunched over you, pulling your hips out over the edge now, the range of motion it allows him making you gasp. He is taking you without mercy now, breath hot on your throat as he moans your name, his hand squirrelling between your bodies and making your vision dance with dots as he passes a slightly calloused tip over your clit.

“Come for me,” he breathes, the request both hopeful and commanding.

“What does that mean?” your question puffed into his lush hairline.

“Oh my darling, just you wait,” his voice dripping with promise even as your skin feels like it wants to vibrate off your very bones as his fingers and cock take you somewhere you never envision. An ecstasy both outside but rooted deep in your being.

He murmurs encouragingly as you struggle for air, your lungs burning, scarcely remembering to breathe, skating some kind of precipice that feels dangerous and addictive. Then, with a flick of his thumb and a gentle bite of your earlobe, you fall into an abyss. Everything all at once quiet and loud, eyes screwed shut as colours burst behind them, and every fibre of your being seems to snap and break, rearranging in a mind-shattering way. Your pussy convulsing hard around his cock that now seems impossibly large.

Then, with a deep booming cry, you feel him lance deeper than ever, his whole body tensing and jerking. A warmth spreads inside, and you vaguely realise he is reaching completion, spilling his seed inside you. For what seems like ages, your mind and body float somewhere, utterly sated, suddenly understanding why this act can be so all-consuming and there is so much written of it.

When your mind returns to the room, you are panting into each other's necks, both breathlessly stunned at how animalistic your first intimacy was. Somehow, your antagonistic chemistry transmuting into an explosive, consuming passion.

“We are going to bed right now,” his tone wrecked, rough, so damn irresistible you want to bite his flesh, even while you still recover from what transpired. Fires stoked again just by those seven words.

He pulls up his trousers haphazardly, picks you up bridal-style, and sweeps you out of his office and up the grand staircase, ignoring the shocked looks of staff at your torn dress and his roughly pulled clothing. 

“We are not to be disturbed,” he barks at his valet, who blanches and leaves the room as Anthony practically throws you onto his imposing four-poster bed. Then, as you lay there, he strips naked before you, and you want to nuzzle every inch of his toned, magnificent body. 

___

It’s three days before you reemerge from what is now your joint bedroom. From that day on, you are never without your husband for more than two days; such is your magnetic need for each other. And when your belly swells with the first of your many children, he confesses his ardent, undying love for you, you returning the sentiment instantly, having felt the same for what seems like forever. 

A hurried, naive pact between two proud, independent souls becoming something wholly other—a loving, passionate marriage of equals. You still squabble with unerring frequency, but now it ends in lovemaking, the intensity sweeping you both into an ephemeral bliss.

A beneficial arrangement indeed.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 2

Masterpost

Danny spends the next few days exploring the town more, while he considers the implications of everything he’d learned  at the library. He’d taken notes, but they’re not exactly the best. Danny’s never been that good at taking notes, after all, but he has a pretty good memory, so the various key words and few quotes he’d scribbled down are plenty useful in reminding him of all the wild shit he’d read about.

There’d been a lot of history involved in the whole meta situation. It seems like these so-called meta humans, and various other races (species? Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about the cultural implications of that) have been around long enough to have had a significant impact on the world at large. And yet, at the same time, there really hadn’t been a lot of personal information on any of the heroes. Oh, there’d been plenty on some of the villains - and of course there’d still be villains here, he’s not lucky enough to escape that - but aside from various speculation about their romantic lives, and a few acknowledgements of family ties here and there, there’d been very few details about where most of them actually came from.

Superman, for example (he seemed to be this world’s go-to example of metas and superheroes), is listed as being an alien, who’s powers come from his biologies unique interaction with this planet’s atmosphere, although it doesn’t explain anything about what that means. Interestingly, there seems to be almost no speculation about Superman’s so-called secret identity. Only about half the listed heroes seem to have one according to the public, but Danny knows that song and dance too well to fall for it. Honestly, they’re even more likely to have a secret identity than Danny himself, seeing as Danny’s alter ego is literally dead. Not that ghosts seem to be much of a thing here.

He’d felt so silly looking up information about ghosts, right before leaving the library. Compared to the deep dive into recent history, googling “are ghosts real” must have looked insane if anybody could see it. The answer he’d returned had been not unlike the way things had been when he was ten or twelve. Before the portal, you’d see dumb ghost hunter shows where they never actually saw much of anything. Ghosts were, like, poltergeists that moved your furniture around and slammed the doors shut. The results here had been a little more interesting - clearly in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, fantastical stuff is a little more rational, and the speculation was clearly affected by that fact, but it still had been, seemingly, all speculation.

Of course, none of that really mattered when it came to Superman. Danny was at least ninety percent sure he wasn’t a ghost. And even if he somehow was, it didn’t change the fact that he either has a secret identity, or he basically never takes part in society. And if he doesn’t have a secret identity, then the question very much becomes why not. Because that means he either has no real reason to care about anyone here (which seems implausible), or he’s unable to spend that time in public. It’s that possibility that’s knocked out any chance of Danny approaching any of the heroes. Because there’s always the possibility that the endorsed heroes are being used to lure other metahumans in. And Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about this world to make any kind of judgment on what’s most likely here. After all, historically there’s plenty of examples of governments that  work with specific people among targeted groups, in order to more successfully take out the others. it tends not to end well for those people when it’s all over, but anyone who’s short-sighted or even just backed into a wall enough can fall for that.

Hell, the GIW had actually tried that line on Danny once or twice, not that he’d ever accepted. After all, they’d never realized that was actually sort of alive, so their pitches had always been... less than convincing. 

Danny blinks, reaching out to touch the brick wall in front of him. He hadn’t meant to come back here, but honestly at this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised. This random little alley on side street wouldn’t be interesting at all to anyone else. But if Danny stares long enough, he can almost see the green-tinged light of the portal that brought him here. Not that he’d ever seen the portal from this side. He hadn’t turned to look until after the light had faded. The idea of seeing his friends’ faces through the swirling green had been too much.

They had all known exactly what it meant when he came here. The difficulty of the journey was the point. Between the anti-ecto acts gaining not just mainstream awareness, but support, and the GIW gaining access to better funding and training, well, the second the GIW had started successfully ending ghosts, it seemed like all the denizens of the zone had collectively decided to stay the fuck home.

At first Danny had enjoyed it, had relaxed and been excited to finally be able to focus on just being a teen. But the GIW hadn’t calmed down, had just started going even more on the offensive, and the second he and Jazz had noticed agents showing up casually at their house, everyone had gone into full alert.

That’s how they found out that the next goal was to apparently take the fight to the zone itself.

The conclusion had been easy from that point. The portal needed to be destroyed, and fast. But with the ghost zone blocked off (and Danny’s death being the unknowing link that made the portal ever work in the first place), that would leave Danny as one of three remaining targets.

They’d all immediately agreed that Vlad could figure out his own solution. Dani- well, she had been traveling, but the second she turned up, the others had made plans to send her on her own one way portal trip too.

Of course, the likelihood that she’d end up here is probably minuscule. So he’s alone.

“Hey,” a stern voice cuts through Danny’s thoughts. He glances over to the person who’s standing at the door to a building. “There’s no loitering here.”

Right. It’s almost easy to forget, in the face of his life’s inescapable absurdity, that to everyone else in this town, he just seems like a possibly-homeless delinquent. Not that the delinquent part is unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” Danny mutters belatedly, realizing that the person is just waiting as he stares at them like a weirdo. He’s not very good with people anymore. Not that he was that good to begin with. Phantom had been a Ghostly Menace, constantly destroying the town with his fights, nobody had expected him to function as a person. Nobody had thought he was a person. But as Danny Fenton- well, he’d fallen short of just about every expectation set at Danny Fenton’s feet.

Distantly he wonders if his friends even bothered to disguise his disappearance. He’d always kind of wondered if his parents would ever notice if he and Jazz just- left. School definitely noticed, though most of the faculty would probably take it as completely expected. After all Danny Fenton was a terrible student, constantly skipping class and never doing his work, and even when he was in class he was usually halfway to falling asleep anyways. Lancer had certainly lectured him about his lack of discipline more than enough. So they might just come to the conclusion that he’d dropped out and run away.

He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that, honestly. The truth is messed up and complicated and frankly, unbelievable. But maybe if they knew the truth at least one person might feel a fraction of sympathy for all the bullshit that he’d been dealing with. Funny, Danny thinks, how coming here feels more like a death than when I actually died.

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞! | genshin males x gn!reader

「 "𝐡𝐞𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫!"」

— in which you give him chocolates before he attempts to give you his??

— fluff. highschool!au but built like a shoujo manga lmao ... happy valentine's day ~ ♡ another fic will be going out tomorrow :)

THOMA, albedo, ayato, alhaitham, childe, KAVEH, HEIZOU, VENTI, GAMING, CHONGYUN, KAZUHA, wriothesley, tighnari, freminet, lyney ♡

Calling yourself a "romantic" person would be quite a stretch.

Saying Valentine's was your favorite day of the year would be even worse.

Sure, sure, you'd heard plenty of things, from the nagging old man manning the grocery store, always red in the face from regular swigs of cheap liquor, or the seemingly never endless musings from your classmates, swooning and fainting every moment anyone, or more specifically, the leads starring in those dramas of theirs, did anything remotely affectionate.

Young, innocent love, while a splendid thing, for someone like you, your really only option was to endlessly pine after someone who would certainly not return your affections.

The recipient of such foolish affections? That much was obvious. What a rather hopeless person, you were.

At the very least, he seemed to enjoy your presence. A smile would adorn his lips, and he'd always meet your gaze with his familiar greeting of, "Good morning, did you sleep well?"

Fuck, you hated how such a simple line, questioning of your wellbeing, could tug at your heartstrings so effortlessly. The man was playing you like a fiddle, and a part of you didn't try to resist that.

So the moment February 14th rolled itself around, bearing promises of youthful laughter, baby cupids, hearts, and sweets, you tried not to pay heed to the extra weight of chocolates in your school bag.

Had you stayed up late making them just the right sweetness, making sure they were perfectly heart-shaped?

Yes. As stated previously, you were truly hopeless.

"Ah, good morning." Wow, look at you, taking the initiative to greet someone? Truly, a day of magic and wonder! You're almost jump scared at the sight of him in your classroom, just what the fuck was he doing here? He leaned against the doorway, looking terribly pretty in the morning lighting.

This was not doing wonders to your heart.

Upon seeing you, he straightened his posture, looking suspiciously sheepish with an extra non-characteristic, flusteredness on his features. "You're here early today."

"It's Valentine's." That's all you managed to sputter out with that tied tongue of yours.

"Yes, and?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly, not entirely convinced, and followed you to your seat like some sort of lost puppy.

Your brain raced to find a rationale he'd deem reasonable. "Uhm, ah... my friend... is planning to confess to a guy, so I had to come early and help her... set up the place she's planning to do so at?"

"I see... ah," His eyes lit up like he had thought of something. "Are you free after school? We should meet up afterward, so you can tell me how it went...?"

"Yes!" You responded a little too quickly, and cussing yourself out in you head, you corrected it. "Ahem- yes, I'd like that." The burning feeling that arose on your face was starting to become too prominent to ignore.

He didn't seem to pay it any mind, and instead beamed in a close-eyed smile. "Perfect. Then, I'll see you?" You were to bid him goodbye, but he ran off before you could even utter a sound, leaving you rather dumbfounded, blank-faced and still feeling the tingling warmth on your cheeks.

Holy shit, is this my chance?? You’d made chocolates on the eensiest, weensiest off chance that you might grow bold enough to hand it to him, even if under the pretense of “as friends”, but with the violent way your heart was pounding in your chest, you didn’t think avoidance would be an option.

Ahaha, you were making a mistake, weren’t you?

Only one way to find out.

The rest of the day went by as predicted. Fanatic screams and a wave of crazed people chasing after the more popular figures of the school, throwing boxes of chocolates and bouquets of roses... hey, wasn't this a safety hazard? There were other screams too - but not of excitement, but terror as a man was crushed and trampled under a wave of love-sick girls chasing after the popular boy in class 2-A.

You just hoped that he wouldn't sue the school. The place was already cutting enough corners when it came to the monstrosity of cafeteria food.

The bell rang, signaling your freedom, and you massaged your shoulders with a sigh. You'd survived, somehow. As you stepped out the door, a ding from your phone alerted you with a text, and as you lit up the screen, the corner of your lips unconsciously turned upwards into a soft smile.

hot guy <3 - don't forget.

hot guy <3 - ill be waiting for you

Stepping into his classroom, you scanned your surroundings for the familiar sight of the man. Low and behold, there he was, sat upon, presumably, his desk, and staring out the window like some main character. You walked over, trying your best to disregard the clamminess of your fingers - or more specifically, the hand that was holding your homemade chocolates hidden safely(?) away behind your back. His features brightened at the sight of you, and he swung his legs, ushering you over to share the view with him.

"Sorry, did you wait long?" You sheepishly grinned as he scooted to the side to give you space to sit down next to him. As you did so, you were made painfully aware of how his body was still pressed up against yours. “I almost got trampled on my way here, not a pretty sight.”

“...Pretty sight?” He echoed his words, tilting his head as he pondered, the slightest curve of a smile tugging at his lips. “You?”

“W-What? No, I-” You cleared your throat before he could say another word, trying to dispel the blush on your features. Naturally, you failed to do so. “What kind of things are you saying now? Just who’d you learn that from?”

“Haa? What do you mean, learned? I just said the truth, that’s all…”

God, he was so adorable. This man had definitely run off with your heart.

Now or never, you supposed. Standing upwards abruptly, you pulled out the heart-shaped box of chocolates you’d been hiding behind your back the entire time, visibly trembling as you held it outwards.

“Will you be my valentine?”

It took him the count of three to respond, his eyes round and doe-like. He blinked rapidly, and then his cheeks flushed - not with his usual cheeriness, but a red that definitely spoke of flusteredness. “H-Hey, that's no fair…”

“...What?” Damn, was this your rejection? You had expected as much, but-

“I was supposed to give you chocolates first, y’know…”

And just like that, the familiar boy before you reached beside him into the darkly lit space and pulled out his own box of chocolates, lightly colored and wrapped beautifully in shimmering golden ribbon. “It took me so long to do this, and yet…”

“Holyfuckingshitwhat.” The curses flew from your mouth, condensed into a single word. “W- H- Y-You… You got chocolates for me?”

Now this was a first. Seeing his cheeks and tips of his ears all rosy, and seeing him all kicked-puppy-like. He nodded slowly, “Mhm… But, this is good too!”

He likes me.

He likes me.

He likes me.

Hoooooly shit.

“Ah, oh no, I didn’t give you an answer, did I?” His usually soft eyes now filled with panic. “Don't tell me I'm too late, I’ll be your valentine!”

The chocolates, surely, would be sweet. But the sensation of your lips meeting his, the undeniable warmth he bestowed upon you — it was sweeter than anything. ♡

(a/n) lmao guess what. i got sick again. i was sick last month and i mfucking sick and dying again and the only thing saving me is shitty couhg medicine that doesn't even work and like expired coughdrops my couhgdrop supply is running low and oh god i don't THINK IM GOINNA MAKE IT-

hahah anyways remember when i said id come back. well . guess what. ive been working on original works for a while now, but the delulu has indeed returned ( for longer than a week this time, hopefully )

i did work on some stuff during my inactivity! the post will probably be out tomorrow, but please don't be upset if i push the date back :)

anyways whipped up this quick drabble so all of you could be well fed on valentines. remember that its okay to be single on this day, and that there are plenty of other people out there like you. there is no shame in being single, and i love every one of you ! mwah <33

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori

[romanoffsbish]

Discovering Paradise

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Sapphic best friends wrapped up in a familiar warm embrace, who knows, they might even kiss… | WC: 1,336

18+ | Minors DNI

Warnings: Idiots in Love

Smut: Dry Humping (Non-Con) | Wet Dream (R) | Mommy (N) | Hinted at Fingering / Oral

A soft blue light cast out into the otherwise dark living room of your shared apartment; Natasha watched your face in anticipation as an action packed scene broke off on the screen. You didn't even flinch, but had you been awake you would have buried yourself in her to hide from the bloody mess and to her that was amusing.

Natasha snorted softly at the recollection, then she settled down with her arms crossed on your chest, chin propped up to observe you over the film. This was the woman's favorite thing to do, movie nights where you never failed to pass out by the second film. Leaving her the time to appreciate your beauty and it not be weird.

——

Whenever you catch her staring, which is rarely, you always gave her a dopey smile and cluelessly teased her about the crush she very well did have. For Christ sake here she was lying on top of you, but you’d failed to get it and it was never clear to the trained spy if the look of adoration in your eyes was platonic or romantic.

Poor woman was head over heels for you and all she could do was to pine in the quiet moments like this.

Then you broke her trance as you whimpered softly, “Natasha,” and her eyes were wide and moving up. Natasha shifted ever so slightly, trying to see if your eyes were open now, but something about the way her hips moved made you moan loudly in your sleep.

“Oh,” she realized what was going on, her cheeks flushed red and her irises blew. You were best friends, but deep down it was clearly more than that, because what 'best friends' sleep with their fronts pressed together, in the tiniest sleep shorts and whimper their names and moan like that at the softest of touches.

Only the ones with a sapphic prophecy to fulfill...

"Fuck," Natasha groaned her frustrations, her core now alit with a throbbing need, one you seemingly share. The redhead rubbed her face against the exposed side of your neck and swiveled her hips more noticeably.

Once again she was rewarded with a moan, alongside a subtle twitch of your own hips. Natasha paused, pulling away to see your scrunched up expression.

"What are you dreaming of detka?" Natasha posed the question that couldn't yet be answered. "Is it me?" She continued to firmly press her covered pussy to yours, "Fuck, I really hope it is detka, I-I need this so badly."

With the sudden urge to cross the line and make you hers, well, the humping intensified; to a point where you were both far too wet to consider this encounter dry anymore. The intense course of pleasure that rolled through your body woke you with a frightened moan.

"Natty?"

The redhead practically squealed, your sleepy voice was too attractive and it made her entire body quake. "Good morning sweetheart," she husked against the shell of your ear, her wet tongue flicked over the warm skin and you whimpered so deliciously that she nearly came. “You were begging mommy in your sleep…”

Natasha chuckled as you whined, your hips now moving in sync with hers as your orgasms built. It was clear she had more to say, so before she could continue teasing you, you turned your head and sloppily kissed her lips, catching her off guard; rendering her silent as she met your eagerness with her own intensity.

In a matter of seconds she took total control of the kiss that had sent her heart and mind racing. It was exhilarating finally being able to taste and feel you. Knowing that you were not upset but eager to continue this made Natasha stutter in her movements, it was hard for her not to use her fingers on you instead but she knew you were both so close and it would be even hotter if you finished with her bare minimum touch.

To keep herself from giving into her urge Natasha's strong hands fell to your hips, and with the strength of a superhero she flipped your positions, using the moment of shock to slip her tongue into your agape mouth. All the while her firm hands began to help you roll your hips in sync with the way she jutted upwards.

"That's it detka," she murmured against the skin of your throat, you were now panting, breasts heaving against the redhead’s chiseled jaw with every breath you took in. The shuddered release against her cheek with every press of your throbbing core to hers.

“I-I’m clo—.” Natasha cut you off with a breathtaking kiss, she was in the same position as you but for some reason she just craved the simple intimacy to bring her to the edge. “Let go detka, come with mommy.” It was like a landslide the way that you fell over the edge with your roommates command, the abrupt release as you felt the entirety of your body tingle with pleasure.

The way you moaned against her cheek and wet her abdomen through your shorts made the redhead feel a returned stamina but she could tell you needed to rest so she guided your lips to hers for a kiss, just in case this moment was a once off test of chemistry for you.

For now Natasha would hold you close, and pretend that there’s nothing to figure out now. It was once she felt your lips lose their fight that she guided your face into her neck. “Mommy will take care of you, but first you need to rest..." You were lost in your head, unsure of the care she promised, but you unconsciously smiled against her skin at her soft attempt at reassurance.

Thoughts aimlessly swirled around your head while you steadily came down from your orgasm: ‘does she love really me too? — of course she does idiot’; ‘do I tell her? — who knew that dreams really did come true.’

As the haze faded one major thought remained, and it was that you wanted an entire life with Natasha. Not just one wet dream inspired encounter, it would break your heart but you also respected your friendship...

No matter what though, you knew you'd be okay, which is why you broke the metaphorical silence.

"We should probably talk," you chuckled against her neck and you felt the rumbling of her own laughter. "Or we can just finish the movie, take a nap, then I'll take you out to dinner then return to have dessert..."

You, begrudgingly, pulled back from the warmth to catch the look in her eyes. The resentment faded when you saw a deep, genuine swirl of affection in her eyes that was paired perfectly with a natural smirk. It was clear she was patiently waiting for your reply but it was delayed by your need to simply admire her beauty.

The freckles on her face had just begun to pop with the increased sunshine and they looked so pretty alongside her blush. The blush that the steamy sex with your best friend caused. It was unreal that you witnessed the reason for never harboring feelings. Because, yes, Natasha was always going to hold that title, it was never a question, but she's not limited to it either, and she's always been a self-proclaimed a jack of all trades.

So, if she was to be the love of your life you’d hoped she wouldn’t mind and would accept the offer with joy.

When her lips turned into a frown you leaned in to peck them briefly before nuzzling back into her neck where you left a smattering of lazy kisses. "I could use a nap."

Natasha pinched your hips playfully but it was all in good fun because she knew your teasing well enough. Her lips softly pressed to your temple before she shut the TV off and let the sound of your calmed breathing ease her into the best sleep she has ever gotten.

[lackadaisycats]

I’m getting really curious on the whole seemingly complex situation that is Mitzi’s romantic relationships.

Cause like, we got Zib, we got Atlas, AND we got Wick!

As far as I’m understanding Zib and Mitzi was like a situationship?? Or maybe just an unofficial relationship from teens to early twenties?? Like they have history together!

But then Atlas comes in and Mitzi kinda leaves Zib for him? Like did she just lose feelings for Zib all together and now only sees him as a friend in the current timeline?

WHATS THE LOVE STORY THERE??

Was there a messy breakup type ordeal??

Then theres Wick! Who I’m unsure if Mitzi does or doesn’t have genuine feelings for!

Cause like, her husbands been dead for a year? And now she’s smooching around with Wick? I can’t tell if this is simply a tactic Mitzi’s using to keep Wick wrapped around her finger or not.

Not that she’s doing it out of malicious intent! It’s clear she feels guilty when she had to use Wick. All things will go into deeper shit if she doesn’t have Wick around! So maybe she’s playing his heart to keep him around because she is extremely dependent on him money wise?? Or does she have actual feelings too??

Girlie has three (or more) men smitten by her! But does she feel the same way in return? I’m pretty confident she did at least have real genuine feelings for Zib in the past! But did she actually love Atlas or was it a marriage of convenience? Or Wick! Is it only a tactic to keep him around as long as possible or has she also had some feelings for him that she’s now partially showing cause her husbands been dead for a year!

Her love life looks so complex! I feel like she needs a drink with how many men seem to be into her at the same time!

sorry for the slight rant and multiple questions 😭

It is indeed messy and complicated, but I can't think of many romantic relationships that don't have some chaos woven in. Even taking account of meaningful, non-romantic relationships in my own lifetime with friends or family, "It's complicated" is an apt descriptor. She and Zib had a past, yes. There were definitely feelings involved, but the structure of the relationship was uncommitted and wishy-washy. Then some things happened that caught Zib by surprise. For indicators as to how Mitzi felt about Atlas, well, take into consideration that she still speaks to his portrait. You can maybe find some clues about the nature of their relationship in things that Zib and Mordecai say in Volume 2 of the comic. As for Wick, I hope it's clear there's at least some mutual attraction there. Mitzi's got her priorities, though, and Wick is actively trying to sort out exactly what his feelings are and where he draws a line in the course of the comic. Really, details are meant to unfold gradually in the story to paint a fuller picture of the past. Things you surmise about it and conclusions you draw (even if they don't ultimately line up with canon) are likely to be far more interesting than whatever dry explanations I could provide here, though.

[wikiangela]

It's a quiet evening, they're winding down after a long, exhausting day of work, just enjoying each other's company. They're on the couch, a cheesy romcom playing on the TV, Tommy's head in Buck's lap, Buck's fingers playing with Tommy's soft curls.

He's watching Tommy more than the movie. He observes his reactions, the soft smiles, the small chuckles, the eye rolls and scoffs - depending on what's happening on the screen. He's so beautiful and Buck wants to stare at him forever. And he gets to.

He beams, as he glances at his hand, still in Tommy's hair, where a simple silver band sits right on his ring finger, an exact match to the one on Tommy's hand, now casually resting on his stomach. Well, almost an exact match, the inscription on the inside just a little bit different - they both say their wedding date and the word 'forever' but they also have each other's names inscribed. Buck likes to take if off sometimes and just look at the words, trace his fingertip over Tommy's name, still amazed that this is his life, even after over a year of being married already.

So he observes his husband, eyes scanning all over, while Tommy's completely immersed in the movie, the romantic dork - Buck loves that he's the only one who truly gets to see this side of him. He's so cute and gorgeous, and Buck loves him so much and just can't take his eyes off him.

That's when he notices it, and a gasp breaks out of him. He can feel a huge grin pulling at his face.

"What's wrong?" Tommy immediately looks at him, a small concerned frown creasing his forehead. When he notices Buck smiling, worry turns into pure confusion. "Evan?"

"Baby." Buck says seriously, his fingers gripping a strand of Tommy's hair, as he announces happily, "You have your first gray hair." He's looking right at it, just a tiny, barely noticeable, silvery hair. It's there, and it looks beautiful, and Buck already kind of can't wait to see his husband get more of them.

"Okay?" Tommy's frown deepens, this time with amusement. "So?"

"So-" Buck starts, then shakes his head. It's stupid, it's just a hair, no big deal, everyone gets them eventually, it's nothing special. But in a way, it is. Because when they met a few years ago Tommy didn't have gray hair. Because in their line of work, and with their luck, with Buck's luck, seeing yourself or a person you love grow old is not always a given - and it's such a blessing. This, seeing a gray hair in Tommy's hair, combined with wrinkles starting to form on his beautiful face - it's an amazing sight. They're sharing a life together, growing older together, they're able to see each other go through all these changes, step by step, day by day, seemingly unnoticeable unless you pay particular attention. It makes Buck feel so grateful for this life he has, for his husband, for getting this chance. "Nothing," he says, fingers resuming combing through Tommy's thick curls, eyes still drawn to that lone gray hair. "I just love you."

"I love you, too, Evan." Tommy smiles that crinkly smile that makes the lines around his eyes even more pronounced. Buck has to lean down and kiss his lips, then the corner of his eye, making Tommy laugh. "What's that have anything to do with my gray hair?"

"I just really like the thought of getting to grow old with you. Of spending my life with you." Buck whispers, and sees Tommy's smile melt into that soft 'Evan' smile, reserved just for him.

"And you say I'm sappy," he responds teasingly, and Buck laughs. Oh, he loves Tommy so much. He looks into Tommy's eyes and sees everything he was just thinking about. He sees how Tommy wants the same things, how he appreciate those reminders, like a silly gray hair, of getting to go through life together.

He kind of can't wait to start going gray, too. To grow old with his husband.

[malereadermaniac]

Innocent ~ Natsumi x Male Reader

The tall, handsome man has surprisingly little experience, he's too innocent to understand why he's so drawn to you Top!Natsumi x Bottom!Reader word count: 2.7k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI Cw: blowjob (giving), Fingering (receiving), Heat = sweat kink, body worship (recieving), Praise (recieving), feet, scent kink

The sun had been scorching all campers since it dawned this morning, most campers having to pour water on their heads or go shirtless the whole day to avoid heatstroke. Your activity for the day was simple, bake! You and Hiro were really the only two competent men in your cabin when it came to baking, so you two decided on a recipe and gave out a task to everyone; the recipe? Apple pie. The task wasn't simply to just bake, it was to find ingredients and make everything from scratch, and both you and Hiro knew that there were apple trees in the forest behind you cabin. And so, that's how you ended up with Natsumi all alone, tasked with bringing back a few apples back to your cabin - two people necessary due to the height of the trees.

Chatting on your hunt for apples was enjoyable, Natsumi was definitely your favourite cabin-mate, organised and not too shabby looking, but his personality and kind-hearted personality is what made you enjoy his presence. The tall man also loved spending time with you, he was friendly with everyone by nature but when it came to you, Natsumi just felt as if you he needed you to be a close friend; not just someone he politely waved or smile to from time to time. But your friendliness with each other did seem to walk on the line between romantic and platonic feelings...

Take for example the fact that on your walk towards the apple trees, you have had to force your eyes away from Natsumi's slim-fit build at least 5 times already; his quite large muscles on his arms and his heard abs sweating and shining from the searing sun, it made your heart skip multiple beats. But whilst you faced your small feelings for the handsome swimmer, he did not. Not because he didn't like you or want to! But rather, Natsumi as a person isn't that great with romantic or sexual feelings... Which has not only led to the poor man questioning his seemingly random affinity for you, but also popping quite a few boners around you.

Speaking of which (the boners and the feelings that is) was occurring right this very second. Once you two had found some trees with actual apples on them you had to figure out how to reach them.

"Wanna get on my shoulders or should I get on yours?" You ask, a s mile on your had as you tilt your head in a questioning manner

"U-Uhm.. You can get on my... my shoulders!" Natsumi stutters out, unusual for his well-spoken self, a blush also adorning his face - but he just put that down to the heat.

You chuckle at the handsome man's response. You weren't a narcissist or anything, but you knew that you were definitely above average in terms of looks - so you were used to guys being a little nervous around you, you found it cute. You also understood why Natsumi was continuing to stutter when you had made it onto his broad shoulders, your plump and boiling, sweaty thighs enveloping Natsumi's tan face. The feeling of you on him, around him, along with the feeling of your crotch rubbing against his head as you reached back and forth for the apple easily resulted in a lot of blood rushing south of the innocent man - Natsumi blushing profusely at the situation and at the embarrassment of popping a boner in this moment. After getting down off of the muscular man, you noticed it (the massive tent in his shorts that is), but you didn't mention it - Natsumi's face already beat red and the handsome man avoiding looking into your eyes, you felt it was a little unnecessary to call it out. That doesn't mean that you didn't take a note of it, though, or that the fact that your camp crush clearly had some sort of feelings for you.

After gathering a couple of apples and making your way back to the camp, you watched as Natsumi headed straight to his bed and 'smoothly' (very not smoothly) use a pillow to hide his little (big) problem. None of the others noticed though, so you all continued on with baking; a soft blush on your face when you noticed the navy haired man staring at you the entire length of the task. With the pie baked, the others left to hand it in, leaving you all alone in the cabin with a still very embarrassed Natsumi. With the temperature still incredibly high, the two of you were half-naked, skin shiny from the beads of sweat on your bodies - you couldn't help but throw a few glances Natsumi's way, his rock-hard abs glimmering so sexily, along with his pecs and obvious V-line. Natsumi on the other hand literally could not take his eyes off of you...

The way that your sweat shined so beautifully on your (s/t) skin, beads of sweat running along your abdomen as you sexily stretch out on your bed - fuck man... Natsumi's problem had hardened ten fold! When you catch his eyes with yours, you flash him a warm smile, chuckling at the soft pink hue on his usually tan face. "ya know... you don't have to be embarrassed about it" You say, lifting your upper body off of your bed in an upward dog pose; your nipples out for Natsumi to ogle at, along with your sexy arms and brief showing of your abdomen "A-About what?" The flustered man responds, his sharp jawline being shown off as Natsumi turns his head away from you, unable to comprehend why he felt his stomach do backflips whenever he looks at you "Your little... hah... big friend~ It's perfectly natural" You say with a smile, pointing at his poorly hidden boner in Natsumi's khaki shorts The man short circuits at your words. Not only did you just outright mention it, but did you just compliment him?? Now, Natsumi isn't experienced at all, he doesn't understand shit like this or whether or not having a big dick was good or bad... But the tone you used? The comforting smile on your face? Your personality and words could make this man cum alone!

A silence fills the warm cabin, not an awkward silence, but a silence no doubt. That is until your soft voice breaks the thick, sexual tension once more "Want me to help you out?" You ask, working up the courage to make the first move on mr. perfect "How would you do that, (Y/n)?" Natsumi retorts after a moment of pondering, his eyes glued to yours You chuckle back at Natsumi and stand up from your bed, making your way over to the muscular swimmer. Receiving a quick nod from the sheepish man after mumbling 'lemme take the lead...', you go ahead and hold yourself above your shirtless camp-mate; trapping the inexperienced man below you, watching as Natsumi's eyes wander your shirtless body, down to your crotch and back up to your soft face. 'can I kiss you?' you say with a smile, to which Natsumi replies 'O-Of course', his eyes glued onto your soft looking lips. With that, you lowered your face to the sharp-featured one below you, you soft lips pushing against Natsumi's as you took control. It didn't take long for the innocent man to be whimpering into your moan, a few moans escaping his lips from your knee rubbing against his hard dick. Although you didn't want to rush the soft moment, Natsumi was becoming more desperate by the moment, which led to his tongue dancing in a tango with yours as the handsome virgin below you moaned and groaned into your mouth. Your hands roamed the tan man's muscular body as you made-out with him, your thumbs playing with his perky nipples, your palm running along his strong abs and hips as your other held you up above him.

Eventually, you pulled away. Panting above Natsumi, you watched as the man desperately tried to reach your addictive lips once more, his hips humping so sexily against your knee - who knew it would be so hot to hold the reigns once in a while! To soothe the horny man below you, you began trailing down his hot, sweaty body with soft kisses; worshiping his tanned, muscular, slim, masculine body with soft praises and kisses. You made yourself comfortable between Natsumi's legs, resting your head cutely against his muscular thigh, hand running up and down his leg, ever so close to his twitching, clothed cock. Teasing Natsumi resulted in sexy whines accidentally erupting from the man's throat, his eyes glued onto you, pleading with you to do more as you rub your nose gently against his covered hard-on - his briefs absolutely drenched in his sweat and musky scent. But you weren't that mean, so you gave in to Natsumi's needs and pulled down his tight underwear, revealing his fucking massive cock. To say it shocked you would be an understatement. You were surprised that the man was a virgin with a weapon like this between his legs, but whatever, you didn't like to share.

The air in the room had gotten even hotter, aided by Natsumi's heavy, hot pants as he moaned like never before. Natsumi had never even really masturbated before, so a blowjob actually rocked his world! Your eyes were glued to Natsumi's flushed complexion and sweaty body as you sloppily sucked his veiny cock; the man too big to easily deepthroat, so you decided on sloppily licking at and sucking on his cute pink tip and veiny, and jacking off whatever your mouth struggled to reach. Natsumi's moans alone could make you cum, the man sounding so sexy as he moaned incoherent words along with your name so incredibly loud, with such evident pleasure dripping off of his voice. Natsumi's words were also incredible, praises falling off of his tongue would feed your ego and your dick so, so much - constant praises of your beauty/looks, your skill, and how good you were making him feel; it was all so fucking hot! But it wasn't just his moans and praises, Natsumi's body was contorting in pleasure, his hands in your hair tightly pulling you onto his dick as his knees were raised, his feet on either side of your head as his thighs encapsulated your head. Fuck man, sucking off Natsumi was more pleasurable than being fucked by some of your past flings! It didn't take long for Natsumi to cum, he had been holding back so well, but one look at your panting face, your tongue out so sexily with spit and precum rolling down your chin was enough to send Natsumi way over the edge. Tightening his masculine fingers in your hair, Natsumi groaned a deep "(Y/n)" and pulled you with all of his might onto his dick, forcing your face to smash against his pelvis, his pubes stuffing your nose and his massive cock going fully down your throat. You chocked on the massive man's cock, doing your best to relax your throat to be able to breath as Natsumi shot what felt like gallons of his thick, hot cum down your throat; the white substance shooting directly down your throat, pooling within your mouth and even spilling down your chin - this man was pent the fuck UP.

After coming down from his high, the navy-haired man looked down at you, seeing the fucking damage he'd done, and finally pulled his 8 inch monster out of your mouth. Hundreds of apologies flooded out of Natsumi as he grabbed some tissues from his bedside and tried to clean you up; but he couldn't deny that watching his cum drool out of your mouth and down your chin, your teary eyes looking at him with a soft smile on your face as you panted like a horny fucker, holy shit did it turn Natsumi on even more. But slowly, Natsumi's 'sorry's transitioned into 'Thank you's, his voice a little more confident as the handsome man looks down at you, a lazy smile on his face as he basks in the afterglow. After cleaning up, you chat with Natsumi, the post-nut clarity kinda hitting the sharp-featured man as he talks to you about why he was really a virgin; you two talked for a while, about his brother, how gay sex actually works n shit, everything really. That's why, when you went to stand up, Natsumi grabbed your wrist - his sweaty palm nice and warm as his masculine, big, veiny hand wrapped around your wrist. "huh? you want more or something, handsome?" you tease, a quizzical look on your face as your eyes look into Natsumi's "Uhh.... I wanna make you feel good too" The sexy swimmer says, looking up at you with doe-eyes, innocent, attractive eyes. Fuck... how could you not fold?

And that's how you ended up in your next position, with your legs up on Natsumi's broad shoulders and your shorts slid off on one of your legs. The sun had began to set, the golden-hour lighting making you look fucking incredible below Natsumi as his long, masculine fingers made you moan his name like a chant. The inexperienced man couldn't take his eyes off of you, sure he'd seen some porn here and there, but holy shit you looked ethereal; with the sunset's gleam making your sweaty body shine, your eyes rolling back and your sexy panting, you just turned Natsumi on so much! Your praises of his fingers and skill egged the tanned male on, applying what he'd learned in a crash-course in fingering you'd given him. Natsumi instantly found your prostate from how long his fingers were, the man curling his two fingers into your pleasure spot and making you see stars; his eyes couldn't stop darting across your whole body, admiring your flushed face, your sweaty body, your twitching, precum leaking dick, your tight hole around his digits, and Natsumi didn't expect to enjoy the way that your sweaty feet curled in pleasure from his attacks on your prostate. The handsome man did his best to pleasure your whole body, not just your tight walls, kissing your nipples and chest in doing so, marking and biting your thighs and legs and kissing your feet - because, yes, the man is so tall that by the time your legs reach his shoulders, only your feet make it onto them. Natsumi was practically worshiping your body as he made you feel so incredibly good, praising your body and your tightness and warmth as he kissed your hot skin, his dick fully hard again just from the way your hips twitched and buckled, lifted off of the bed towards him with every rub of his fingertips against your p-spot.

Finally, after more kisses with a lot of tongue from Natsumi and more magic work from the man's incredible fingers, you were pushed way past the edge. You moaned Natsumi's name as you gripped at the sheet below you and at whatever skin of his you could reach, your legs twitching in rhythm with your cock as you covered your stomach with your cum; the sight made Natsumi blush, so erotic yet so adorable to him - the man was falling in love. Your panting and soft moans filled the room and the navy-haired man's ears, the air was still as hot as ever and your bodies were sweatier than before, but you both could give less of a shit; the two of you stuck looking into each other's eyes as you panted and smiled, fuck you were both falling head over heels! But after Natsumi breaks a very sloppy and passionate kiss with you to fumble iwth his belt in order to pull out his now re-hardened 8-incher, the attention of the two of you was redirected to the slam of the cabin door; behind which was a very happy looking Hiro, whose face dropped when he saw what filthy activites were occuring in the shared cabin. For God's sake! Now the whole cabin knows you and Natsumi fucked!

Oh well~

You could deal with an angry Hiro and Yoichi for an hour or two if it meant you and Natsumi were now basically seen as a couple by your cabin-mates - and you're sure Natsumi didn't mind either from the way he chuckled as he looked at you with a hand scratching his head.

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Hidden Affection

༉‧₊˚. Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Nikto

・❥・"Audere est facere"

Ghost

Calculated steps, it’s like a slow dance you both partake in

Like an alarm going off in his head, he proceeds with caution

So skeptical of love, his feelings, everything

Even if he slowly narrows the path to you don’t expect immediate love

He doesn’t want to be the only one who gets hurt

He wants you to be his only one

To call out your name and for a warm smile to light up for him

While in a group conversation, he’ll crack a joke or two hoping you’ll laugh

Those softened eyes that rested upon you

Gazes that lasted a little longer than they should’ve

He couldn’t help it

Soap

A hopeless romantic all his life

The lonely feeling that goes away when he’s with you

Lots of daydreaming and heart-racing

That eye contact feels like an electric spark that shoots straight up his spine and keeps him alert for the rest of the day

He lights up when you’re near

The words he sincerely wanted to tell you

You’re the one he desperately looks for every chance he gets

Finds every excuse to see you

Nothing hurts him more than having to ignore you while in front of others

“It shouldn’t have to be like this…”

And he hugs you as if it’ll be the last time he’ll ever get to touch you. every. time.

Gaz

Tries to learn things about you, for instance, your favorite things, your preferences

He may be talking all giddy and comfortably and suddenly go quiet to observe you while you do something

Subtly acting differently when he’s around you

Something in the air changes when you make eye contact

Like a moment of silence and stillness when from across the room you find one another

Electricity runs through his veins when his fingers graze your skin

Traces of a smile that remains on his face long after you’ve talked to him

Leaves love notes hidden among your belongings

Maybe nothing else in the world belongs to him, but he’s at ease knowing he has your love

Alejandro

He’s smug when he notices your voice falter knowing he’s doing something to you

Sees it like a game to see how close he can come to the line between playful banter and genuine interest

A lot of patience testing, a game of pushing and pulling

What he thought would be a light and easily enjoyed game soon turned into something more

The growing heartbeat gets louder until the last second

A sweet game of Russian roulette

You constantly remind yourself to keep your beating heart still

What you don’t know is however many times you’ve had to calm your heart, how much more did he find himself in a tumult of emotions wishing he could come forth with his feelings

Phillip Graves

He hates the way he feels dumb and dizzy when he gets too close to you

Idiot in love but in denial

You start to notice his attraction to you through his trivial habits

Once, he helped you stand up, and the way he grasped your hand and flexed it after you had let go

Not only does he start to show his feelings through wit and charm but also when it comes to your wellbeing

He cares for his Shadows but cares excessively when it is about you

“I have the right to be worried” or “Stop fooling around, you’ll get yourself killed”

Behind those seemingly harsh words is a tender spot that’s reserved just for you to take over

He had hit the limit of his patience when you finally decided to make a move, after that it was smooth sailing

Secret meetups in his office ;)

Keegan

I can’t imagine him gazing at you with those deep blue eyes without it making you uneasy

Just gazing at you would grant him peace

He wishes to devour you; kiss you, touch you, to show how much you ignite passion within him

Treats your mouth as if it were heaven’s gate

Meeting in secret is difficult and not always easy, when more than a week goes by without some sort of intimacy he’ll get jealous

Lashing out because he can’t just stride over to you and embrace you

Firmly takes your wrist and guides you to a secluded area

“Don’t show that smile to anyone else darling, it’s for me only”

He makes it up to you; the little time spent together makes up for the entire day

König

Won’t say anything you have to listen carefully to notice his barely perceptible acts of affection

He watches you, can’t speak, wandering around you without taking his eyes off of you

Every thought naturally flows toward you

Like a sugar craving, he wants a sweet love like this

He stares at you for a long time, waiting for you to fall into his hands when you’re alone

What if it’s just infatuation?

The emotions that are halfway there, might not be that sweet he realizes

He just feels afraid it’ll all shatter if he tries reaching out and making the relationship known

So his eyes wandered around

Sometimes feeling his heart trembling

Daydreams of one day reaching that love like a sweet fruit on the end of an outstretched branch

Nikto

The truth is, it wasn’t love at first sight

He saw nothing distinctive about you right away

He’s never been a man to seek flirting

Although it took time for your subdued personality to come to his attention

When he found a certain liking for you it surprised him

Conversation with you had always been easy

One of you will glance at the other only to find them already looking and neither of you can help but smile

“You know you don’t have to pretend”

Rushed kisses given in secret

Frustration building in his chest, all pent up and ready to burst when he senses you nearby

His heart is thrown into chaos and he doesn’t know what to do, but you’re there to assure him it’s going to be fine <3

[taesansbeloved]

ARE YOU UPSET? (엔하이펜)

synopsis: when you do the tiktok trend where you slam the car door shut. warnings 🚨 fluff, skinship, kissing, petnames, and all that stuff. not proofread 👍🏻

(Maknae line)

nova notes: HIHI yall.... I have exams... :< okay anyhow I will try my best to update faster 🙂 enjoy! 🎀 hyung line here

Sunoo (수누)

You and Sunoo just came back from a little midnight drive because neither of you could sleep. It was very romantic and sweet how the soft music was surrounding you, and Sunoo's warm hands on yours, and the dark night sky with no one around. But now, sleep was very evident in the silence surrounding the car. Both of you have grown tired from that little drive. Suddenly, you remember that tiktok you saw while you were wide awake in bed. 'Why not?' You though as you turned to the tired Sunoo who was tiredly driving you guys back home. As Sunoo put the car in park, he was on his was to open the car door for you like a gentleman but you beat him to it and got out yourself, not forgetting to close the door loudly. Sunoo stood infront of the car, frozen, seemingly wide awake now. He quickly walked up to you and culled your face in his hands. "Baby, is everything alright?" He asked softly, voice filled with concern. You nodded as you feel your facade starting to break. Sunoo pushed the stray hair away from your face and tucked behind your ear, not believing your words. "Love, are you sure? Did I say something wrong?" He asked again as a small giggle escaped you lips. "I was just joking, baby. Sorry." You explained, lazily resting your head on his chest. Sunoo sighed loudly in relief. He held you close and kissed the top of your head tenderly. "Come on. We need to sleep." He said as he pulled you closer to him and walked to your shared house

Jungwon (정원)

You and Jungwon were in the car driving to the convenient store to get some ramen as a midnight snack. While Jungwon was concentrated on driving, you were on your phone scrolling through tiktok, trying to find the video you saw this morning (you were a little distracted as Jungwons hand kept running back and forth on your thigh). When you found the video you inspected it, trying to get the details just right. Once you did, you put the phone down with a cheeky grin etched on your face, that did not get unnoticed by Jungwon. "What's with the smile, baby?" He asked, smiling himself. You quickly turned away as you said, "nothing. Just happy." Well you didn't lie either. Jungwons smile got wider as he patted you thigh. When you arrived, you both got out of the car at the same time, but with you slamming the car door shut. "Jeez, baby. You're gonna wake up the whole area." Jungwon shushed you as he walked infront of you and pulled you into a hug. "Are you alright?" He whispered in your ear before kissing your earlobe gently. You nodded, feeling butterflies swarming in your stomach. Jungwon pulled away from the hug to inspect your face. He leaned in, placing a feather kiss on your lips before looking at you with heart eyes. "You know I love you, right?" He asked, voice still low. You nodded as you wrapped your arms around his torso. "Mhm. And I also love you very much." You said back making him smile until his cheeks hurt. "Come on. Let's get some ramen." He said as you both walked into the store, hand in hand.

Ni-ki (니키)

You decided to do the prank a little differently on Ri-ki. You both were on your way to the mall to get some clothes for Ri-ki (he desperately needed you with him because your opinion matters, his words not mine). Ri-ki was waiting for you in the car as you forgot your bag inside. Ri-ki caught the sight of you coming out if the house while locking the door, and smiled fondly. As you were walking to the car, you felt Ri-ki's eyes on you, you looked up and saw him winking at you from behind the passenger seat window. You opened the car door and entered the car, then slammed the car door shut. "Holy crap, baby. That was loud." He said while chuckling. Definitely not the reaction you were expecting. "Sorry." You muttered, feeling a tad bit embarrassed. "No, you're good.... you're okay, right?" He asked, looked at you with slightly furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes shot up to his and nodded quickly. "Yes, I was just pranking you." You said simply as you watched Ri-ki's smile appear. "You're impossible." He said as he leaned in and kissed your temple gently before starting the car and making your journey to the mall.

Do not copy this post. Spam likes = blocked. Spaming and plagiarism are not tolerated. Respectfully follow these rules :)

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

you know how you did bg3 types of yanderes, could you do that for castlevania? Like the trio and isaac, hector, dracula/lisa, carmilla, st. germain??

A/N: For reference, here is the one I did for BG3 villains, and here is the one I did for the BG3 Main Companions. Also, this is unedited as hell so if you see grammar mistakes, no you didn't. 

Castlevania Characters as Yandere! Types: 

Yandere! Trevor: 

Defensive. Calucative. Hardened. Trevor’s seen far worse than you, from humans and monsters alike. He knows the terror and the cruelty that lurks out there. He wants to shield you from it all, for as long as possible. He has this overwhelming need to prevent what happened to his family from happening to you. Even then, he knows your innocence won’t last; it couldn’t possibly. So long as you’re tied to him, you will know hardship. So as much as he babies you, and refuses to grant you complete independence, he is also distant, and frequently unaffectionate. In his line of work, people don’t die of old age; neither of you will be in the other’s life forever. Just let him love you the way he needs, when he asks for it, please. Everything else is so difficult in his life, you don’t want to add to that. Make yourself into the one piece of his life that is easy. And enjoy the easy while it lasts. 

Yandere! Sypha: 

Confident. Feisty. Unyielding. Sypha is always sure of herself. Everything she does, she does with 100% effort and full intent- your relationship is no different. From the moment she sees you, she’s sure she likes you, and she’s certain you like her. Any behavior that suggests otherwise on your part must simply be beginning relationship nerves. After all, she is a scholar and a Speak Magician. Her infectious optimism seeps out of her every pore. Her love for you knows no bounds, and she will not hesitate to throw herself into danger to prove it. I mean, she can conjure fire and ice instantaneously in her own two hands! Who wouldn’t want to be her partner?  Only some sort of complete and total asshole would try and turn her down, or worse, fight against her. She fights for what is right, and what is just. You wouldn’t fight against what’s just, would you? 

Yandere! Alucard: 

Intellectual. Sharp. Melancholic. Alucard is not a stranger to romance nor heartbreak. Losing the people closest to him has left him vulnerable, both emotionally and physically. Instead of processing his feelings, he bottles them up, until he can no longer bear their weight. He feels such pressure to remain composed, remain controlled, not animalistic, to go against the programming of half of his biology. At the same time, he is starving, desperate, and filled with an insatiable thirst for closeness. Such a complicated, disconsolate man, Alucard needs you to stay, more than anything. His life has been so lonely, and so hard; at times it feels like all he knows is loss and the cruel impossible whispers of desire. You need to stay. You need to choose him. He cannot take another heartbreak. It’s quite possible, given his role throughout history, that humanity wouldn’t survive another one of his heartbreaks either.  

Yandere! Isaac: 

Keen. Precise. Self-Righteous. Isaac has journeyed far on his quest for revenge, coming not only into a new land and new role but a new self as well. Gone is the former subservient, sacrificial lamb, who has risen into a stronger, wiser, seemingly benevolent king. Do not mistake this kindness for weakness, however. You must be either admirable or too kind-hearted to pose a genuine threat. Once you’ve caught his eye, prepare for an odd game of cat and mouse, you being the mouse of course. Isaac is not used to having friends, much less romantic companions. You must be patient as he learns the intricacies of your psyche. Surely, you must know he’s been analyzing it since you met? Be an honest, positive presence in his life, and he will keep you safe from all others who may do you harm. Treat him as the wise king he now sees himself as, and perhaps, he will ask you to be his queen. 

Yandere! Hector: 

Reclusive. Embittered. Suspicious. Hector has been forced to toughen up. Too late did he realize at the end of the road, that it is the people, not the zombies you command that can make or break a man. That is where you come in my dear. Following Lenore’s death, Hector’s purpose is up in the air, he is suddenly a puppet, free of its strings. He feels much wiser, but just as lonely. Hector cannot help but latch on to you, the first “normal” person to view him as human. He yearns for a simple quiet life, with a dog (a live one) and a partner to call his own. You’re perfectly plain, or perhaps, you’re just odd enough to make him look normal, and he relishes that. You have to understand that he can’t share much about his past. He can’t possibly tell you about his old life, no, no, no. He’s hiding it from you, hells, he’s hiding from it with you. He loves you dearly, he does. But he can’t trust you, not fully. A man with a history like his cannot truly trust anyone. 

Yandere! Dracula/Lisa: 

Nurturing. Captivated. Smothering. Dracula was not keen on humans before meeting Lisa; she bewitched him body and soul. And now the two of them have become enthralled by you. Dracula has learned the ‘other’ humans are not to be trusted, not with you, and certainly not with his wife. Lisa finds it unfortunate how she is no longer able to treat her former patients in Lupu, but she’s also incredibly thankful now that she has you to take care of! Ever the eager student, she still wants to learn so many things, and how wonderful of a practice dummy you are. Dracula is also eternally grateful that his wife will not be completely lonely; he knows how much helping her fellow humans means to her, and now that you’re here, Dracula no longer has to worry about keeping his wife (and by extension, you) to himself for eternity. 

Yandere! Carmilla: 

Prepared. Calculating. Cruel. Carmilla is a sadist at heart, there’s no denying it. She loves feeling the power she wields over all other people, humans, and vampires alike. For you to have caught her attention, surely you must be something special. Either you are particularly gifted in something she’s not (negotiations, necromancy, art, etc.) or you’re just so unbelievably precious, that she can’t help but want to steal you away for herself. She sees you as a possession, as a rare and beautiful gem, not a person. Even if she did ‘hear’ anything you had to say, she’d simply consider it further fodder to be used in manipulating you should it all come to that. She is not a woman who is denied, not by God, not by man, not by Dracula, and certainly not by you. Chin up, pet. Things could always be much worse. You could be thrown in the dungeons and left to rot. How lovely of Carmilla to instead treat you to more luxury than your kind could ever dare to deserve. For your continued safety, may I suggest showing a little gratitude? I mean it’s not like your life depends on it or anything. It does. 

Yandere! St. Germain: 

Wise. Inquisitive. Obsessive. St. Germain is a man who knows his mind. He knows a great deal about alchemy, and that alchemy, at the end of his days, will be his greatest work. That was of course, all before he met you. You opened up a whole side of him that he didn't know existed. Before you, his conquest was kings and courts; his acquaintances were mages and scholars! But now, in his effort to keep you from himself, you have become his conquest; his acquaintances are vampires and demons, all practitioners of dark magic. To him, it’s of little matter, so long as he can secure you, his one true love. To him, it’s the most important to have someone to share all his knowledge with, all that he’s achieved. To bask in the victory alone does not hold the same merit. He needs you at his side, he needs you to be invested in the great work. Without you, without your love, he fears he cannot achieve it. As such, he will do whatever it takes to get you by his side. And I do mean- whatever- it takes. 

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[crybabykiko]

All Mine

Sakura Haurka x f!reader WC: 1.3k Warnings: pwp, established relationship, oral+piv, pull out method (sorry it’s just who I am now), undertones of possessive Sakura, everyone is aged up to early 20s, mentally this is supposed to have a 2nd part so ignore the abrupt ending...

Daisy Says: Idk how we got here but damn...

tagging @interstellar-inn bc network tings

“How come you never kiss me like that?”

When you asked, it was a joke, of course. You were curled up on the couch next to Sakura, feet tucked neatly under his thighs to keep your toes warm. There you were, wrapped up in blankets, a shared bowl of popcorn the only thing truly separating you two from getting closer.

You had noticed he wasn’t laughing, though.

“Helloooo,” you called, tossing a single piece of popcorn to barely thud against his temple, his gaze on the film breaking as he looked to you with red-stained cheeks. The truth of the matter was that even though you and Sakura had agreed to take things slow, things were going a little bit too slow for your liking. You liked watching movies, sure, but every time? watching movies could be even better if you were face down, ass up with the Are you still watching? screen pixelated in your blown-out eyes.

The couple on-screen is clearly having more fun than you are; the romantic climax of the movie featuring a kiss in the rain. Their lips meet in a fervent, sensual kiss, each touch igniting a wildfire of longing. The rain is drenching them, but they are oblivious, lost in the heat of the moment. Time stands still as their kiss deepens, every second brimming with unspoken promises and the raw, uncontainable passion of two souls finding their perfect match. Their bodies pressed together, hands roaming with a desperate, aching need, as if trying to memorize every curve and contour.

He shifted a bit, the seemingly permanent scowl on his face temporarily softening the moment his eyes fell onto you again. With you, he was never really angry- or even aggressive, but instead, so much more relaxed and comfortable,despite the discomfort with being close to.. Well anyone. Even against the mounting and overtly sexual tension that had been building much like your closeness- it was no secret that he was insecure at times about your intentions with him. After all, you were such a hot commodity around town- choosing him sometimes felt odd to him in particular. He thought about the things the guys said about you, the things they wanted to do to you, the things that he could do to you. The stare lingered a bit, his eyes trailing from your head and down your neck, before settling on your chest. He could just barely trace the lining of the top of your bra through the deep cut neckline of your shirt, eyes straining involuntarily in an effort to see even more. He had you. You were his. And he had made up his mind in these tangled thoughts- that you had waited long enough.

“Is- that… is that what you want?” His eyes were fixated on the way your chest rose and fell with every breath you took.

You reached out to lift his chin, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you inched closer and closer to his face, lips barely touching as you spoke.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, confirming your desire and giving him even more indication while batting your lust-ridden eyes. You fully closed the gap, pushing your tits against him as if to say that you weren’t leaving his apartment without what you came for… him.

His complexion flushed an even deeper, carmine red as your hand trailed down to palm him. You felt him stiffen almost immediately in response to the touch, your voice darkening as you stared into his now bewitched multicolored eyes.

“Just wanna be yours.”

It’s barely a full blown make out, but his lips are on yours as soon as you give him the go ahead. There's no real time to melt together but the urgency is there, making it feel as if once your lips part, they’ll never be able to touch again. It gets deeper over time, hands beginning to roam between fabric and skin interchangeably while you gasped for the spaces of thickened air between you, Sakura mumbling ‘all mine,’ against your lips, jawline, and neck as he made sure to leave no patch of skin untouched. He took the lead, pulling your shirt over your head and pushing you to your knees.

Licking your lips with anticipation, you saw him finally spring free from his makeshift pajama pants, cock already glistening at the tip. One hand began to twist at the base of while the other worked to peel your low-rising lounge shorts down to your knees, wiggling your legs until they fell just past your ankles. His hands found their way to your hair as he began to move your head up and down in an effort to guide you. The movement of his arms and hips was feverish and mismatched, desperate for any contact he could have. The weight of him on your tongue alone was enough to send your pussy into overdrive after waiting for what felt like an eternity for this moment. After a few passes, you popped your lips off of him, strings of your saliva separating you from the length.

At first it was slow, making sure he could feel every inch of himself entering you as you adjusted to the pleasure of fullness. He raked his hands into the sides of your flesh, speeding up your pace as he started to thrust upward to meet you. You hadn’t noticed him snaking a hand behind him, reaching over his head to draw it forward- his old Furin jacket. You knew how important that thing was to him- the stories it held, the person it made him way back when. When it came into your vision, you immediately took the hint, gently fumbling with the cool metal buttons that adorned it. Never slowing down, he guided your hips to make figure-8s around him as you slipped it over your shoulders.

“Fuck-” the moan was drawn out and broken as his cock rammed into you more vigorously then, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in harmony with your moans as you felt yourself losing balance. You placed your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself, but he pulled you forward by the breaklines of his jacket, fixated instead on feeling your body in his.

“Now, you’re all mine,” Sakura exalted. His eyes- one blue, one brilliantly golden, were completely glossed over, much like yours at this point, but the intensity of the eye contact brought you closer to the high you’d been chasing as both of your breath patterns slowly began to waver. You could feel his nails softly digging into your side as he concentrated, deepening his claim on you by ghostwriting his name in your skin- you had memorized every character even as your vision began to white, body giving way to land onto his frame and gripping the blankets below you for dear life. He grunted in compliance as he felt you start to clench around him, making sure to get you through it all, eventually slowing his pace and slipping out just in time to come completely undone where your lower abs met.

You both collapsed into the floor beneath you, bodies writhing as you recollected your bearings. There were several seconds of soft pause before anyone moved, heads innocently knocking into each other’s in your disoriented state. He mumbled a soft apology, pressing his lips to the affected area near your temple before reaching over both your bodies to grab his phone.

Oh shit. It was almost 8:45.

Following his lead, you too grabbed your phone- several missed texts flooded your screen. Both of you were late for that night’s festivities- the debut of Tsubakino’s new number down at the club- the one your entire friend group had been invited to at least 2 weeks ago…. The one that Tsubaki would kill you for missing… especially because you helped with the choreography.

“I should probably go back to mine and get ready,” sighed, wrapping yourself in Sakura’s jacket and heading toward the door back to your place, conveniently located a few units away.

“I’ll give this back to you later.”

[lecsainz]

Hope you're doing amazing! I love your blog so much! I come here almost every other day to day dream about my favourites and read your pieces again and again. Could i request Carlos x reader fic where Carlos comforts the reader after some reporters prod into their private life and the reader feels overwhelmed... Angst to fluff and maybe smut in the end?

SHE’S A BAD BAD GIRL

parings: carlos sainz x famous!reader

authors note: I gotta say, mixing a bit of AU with regular fanfic, can I just say I love doing magazine features?

summary: that one where the media makes up stuff about your relationship with carlos but he ain't gonna let that shake our relationship.

☆. . . masterlist !

Exclusive Source Reveals Startling Insights Into the Relationship of F1's Rising Star and the Elusive Heiress

The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?

By TMZ Magazine - September 2023

In the glitzy world of fame and fortune, where the line between reality and illusion often blurs, power couples are born just as swiftly as they fade away.

None have captured the public's attention quite like that of Formula 1 sensation Carlos Sainz Jr. and the enigmatic heiress Y/N Y/L/N. This power couple's whirlwind romance has been the subject of intense speculation, with many questioning the authenticity of their love. In a TMZ exclusive, we delve into the inner workings of their seemingly sensational union, revealing what lies beneath the surface.

It's no secret that the world of celebrity romance often blurs the lines between genuine affection and calculated publicity. In the case of Carlos Sainz Jr. and Y/N Y/L/N, sources close to the couple suggest that their relationship might be more PR strategy than a heartfelt connection. Our exclusive source, a close friend of the couple, disclosed that the pair has carefully orchestrated their romance to maximize benefits on both ends.

"They both know that being in the spotlight can help boost their respective careers," our source shared. "They decided it's a mutually beneficial arrangement. Carlos gets more media coverage, and Y/N can use his popularity to her advantage."

Y/N Y/L/N, the elusive heiress whose life has been shrouded in mystery, has raised eyebrows with her numerous high-profile relationships over the years. It's no secret that she's been romantically linked to at least eight A-list celebrities, including musicians, actors, and even fellow heirs. Despite her apparent aversion to fame and the media circus that surrounds it, Y/N has consistently found herself in the headlines due to her high-profile affairs.

"The irony is that Y/N has always claimed to hate the attention that comes with dating famous people," our source revealed. "Yet, she's continued to choose partners from the same world she professes to despise."

As the couple's relationship has garnered more attention, their PR teams have been working tirelessly to manage the narrative. They've employed tactics such as carefully timed public appearances, social media posts, and interviews to keep the public intrigued and invested in their romance. This calculated approach, however, has led many to question the authenticity of their connection.

"Their teams are skilled at using the media to their advantage," our source admitted. "It's all about perception and maintaining their status as a 'power couple.'"

As the world continues to watch this captivating couple's every move, one question lingers: Is their love story genuine, or is it a calculated maneuver to seize the attention of the masses and advance their respective careers? Are Carlos and Y/N truly in love, or are they orchestrating a well-choreographed PR campaign for mutual benefit?

Stay tuned for more exclusive updates and revelations from TMZ Magazine.

Y/N lay sprawled across the plush sofa in the cozy living room of her shared home with Carlos in Spain. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting warm rays of light across the room. She'd been catching up on some reading when her phone buzzed incessantly, drawing her attention away from the book.

The headline on her screen was impossible to miss: "The Power Couple: Carlos Sainz and Y/N Y/L/N's Love Story or PR Masterpiece?" The TMZ article had surfaced online, and her heart sank as she read through the scandalous claims about their relationship. It was a relentless invasion of their privacy, dissecting their love as if it were a staged performance.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and she felt overwhelmed by the intrusion into their lives. She knew she had to confront this with Carlos, who had always been her rock in times of turmoil.

Carlos entered the room, sensing the tension in the air. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with concern as he sat down beside her.

She handed him her phone, unable to speak the words herself. Carlos read through the article, his expression growing darker with every word. He clenched his jaw, his protective instincts kicking in. "This is complete nonsense," he muttered angrily.

Carlos's anger simmered as he continued to read the invasive article. His protective instincts flared, and he couldn't fathom how anyone could twist their love into something so far from the truth.

"They have no idea what they're talking about," Carlos said, his voice low but filled with determination. "This is just trash journalism trying to stir up controversy."

Y/N looked up at Carlos, her eyes filled with gratitude. She'd always admired his strength and resilience. "I know, Carlos, but it still stings. I hate how they're trying to make our love seem fake."

Carlos's expression softened as he turned to her. "Mi sol," he whispered, using the affectionate term he had for her. "Our love is as real as the sun streaming through those windows. Don't ever doubt that."

Y/N managed a faint smile, her heart aching a little less with his reassuring words. "I just wish we could shut them up, Carlos."

A mischievous glint flickered in Carlos's eyes as he looked at her. "Well, maybe we can," he said cryptically.

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, Carlos swept her into his arms and stood up. She laughed in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Carlos, what are you doing?" she asked, her laughter mixing with curiosity.

He grinned down at her, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I'm taking my sunshine to our room," he said, "away from all this nonsense."

Y/N couldn't help but giggle as Carlos carried her bridal style down the hallway to their bedroom. His laughter joined hers, and it echoed through their home, drowning out the noise of the world outside.

In that moment, as Carlos playfully carried her, Y/N realized that their love was a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of fame and gossip. It didn't matter what others said or wrote about them. What they had was real, unbreakable, and filled with a kind of love that could weather any storm.

As they reached their bedroom, Carlos gently set Y/N down, and they both burst into laughter. He pulled her into a tender kiss, sealing their promise to protect their love from the prying eyes of the world.

As Carlos set Y/N down in their bedroom, their laughter filled the air like a sweet melody, banishing the remnants of unease brought on by the intrusive article. With a loving smile, Carlos cupped her face in his hands, his gaze locked onto hers.

"You know," he whispered, his voice laced with desire, "there's one thing those journalists will never understand."

Y/N's breath hitched as she met his intense gaze. "What's that?" she asked, her voice barely more than a soft murmur.

Carlos leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a teasing, tantalizing kiss. "That our love," he murmured, his voice husky, "is the real deal."

Their kisses deepened, their passion igniting like a flame. Carlos's hands slid from her face down to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair, and she moaned softly against his lips.

Their love was a fire burning brightly, an unbreakable bond that no amount of gossip or scrutiny could diminish. As their clothes fell to the floor, they reveled in the intimacy that was entirely their own, a celebration of their genuine love.

In the quiet of their bedroom, away from the prying eyes of the world, Carlos and Y/N proved that their love wasn't just a masterpiece of public relations. It was a passionate, fiery, and deeply genuine connection that left no room for doubt.

As their bodies entwined and their moans of pleasure filled the room, they knew that their love was their most cherished secret, a sanctuary where they could be their true selves, far away from the judgmental eyes of the world.

liked by charlesleclerc , taylorswift , and 13.657.473 others

carlossainz55 just had the best night of my life! thanks, gossipmongers, for the motivation.

tag: yourusername

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[madbard]

I just realized another reason I love Hozier’s music. It’s not just that the lyrics are complex, or the music itself is beautiful - it’s that Hozier is a musical liar.

Take Cherry Wine. This is a song about an abusive relationship, told from the perspective of someone very much in love with their abuser. Throughout the song, the narrator describes their lover’s cruelty. Lyrics like “I walk my days on a wire” and “open hand or closed fist would be fine” make the darker aspects of their relationship all too evident. At points, the song suggests that they are defending this relationship to someone else who cares about them (“it looks ugly but it’s clean. Oh mama, don’t fuss over me”) and even the more beautiful and seemingly romantic lines later in the song (“oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing”) have dark undertones (what else is sleep to the freezing but death?) Still, I often come across the song being used in a wholesome, romantic context. A lot of factors contribute to this, but I would argue that this song mainly gets mistaken for a romantic song because of how soft and gentle the music is - it presents as a sweet love song in every way except the lyrics. Even those lyrics are told through the lens of someone defending their broken and abusive relationship, deepening the lie. Our narrator wants to portray this relationship as something dark, yet also immensely beautiful and encompassing. The result is a song about the agony and pleasure of a broken relationship, disguised so well as a love song in every possible way that it gets mistaken for something romantic. (Even if you are aware of the meaning, there is still that deep urge to experience the song as something romantic. Just like the narrator, the listener is drawn in by beauty and the powerful idea of love, so much so that it can blind them to reality.)

Variations of this can be seen in Talk. In this song, the narrator makes their intentions very clear - they are sweet-talking someone in order to hide their own thoughts and desires (“I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out how I’m imagining you”). Despite knowing this, the sheer power of the lyrics (“I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus / when her body was found. / I'd be the choiceless hope in grief / that drove him underground. / I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee / that made him turn around, / and I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice”) overwhelms the listener. We know the speaker is putting on a show. We know they have ulterior motives, and likely don’t even believe what they are saying. But their words are so beautiful that we don’t care. The intense, almost mythic music in the background is so lovely and deep, it makes the lyrics seem genuine, because what lie could sound so astounding and true? In this case, the song about smoke and mirrors and empty talk becomes a love song because the narrator is just that skilled at lying.

Even songs like Too Sweet, sung by a narrator who refuses to be with someone unless they allow their standards to slide, become ‘romantic’ and ‘sweet’ to certain listeners - not because the lyrics are impenetrable, but because so many of Hozier’s narrators are unreliable. His songs spin sweet stories, lies so stunning that listeners are willing to deny what they know in order to experience the beauty of that untruth, the complexity of that space between what is real and what we want to believe.

And isn’t that more true to the experience of being a person, and loving other people, than the simple truths we often see in these types of songs?